Red Rider's Hood

9 Troll Bridge Hollow

Nightshade Boulevard ran into Bleakwood, and Bleakwood ran into Troll. Troll Street went over the river. The Troll Street Bridge was an old gray monster: an iron suspension bridge, with two towers rising like twin tombstones, cables spun like spiderwebs between them. It stretched across the mile-wide river, making you think there was a way out of the city. Like maybe if you crossed it you might find life a little bit easier. But, as everyone knew, when you got to the other side off the Troll Street Bridge, all you found was more of the same.

The bridge itself was the sort of crumbling mess that always seemed minutes away from plunging into the river. Whole chunks of the roadway had fallen away, and you could actually see the river through the potholes. Beneath the roadway, where the bridge touched shore, was a walled-in space at least fifty feet high. In that stone wall beneath the bridge was a single steel door. For as long as I can remember, and before that I'm sure, there were stories about what was behind that door. Some people said there were bodies hidden there, back from the gangster days before even Grandma was born. Others said it was full of gold stolen from Fort Knox. Still others whispered that it held secret stockpiles of nuclear weapons the govern­ment had forgotten about.

But the truth was worse than any of that. Troll Bridge Hol­low was a werewolf lair.

If there was a secret knock, I didn't know it, so I just pounded on the door until I heard heavy bolts sliding on the other side.

The door creaked open, and in the dim light I saw a pair of eyes, pupils open all the way, like a cat at night.

"Who told you to come here?" It was one of the many Wolves I didn't know.

"I told myself," I said. Although this guy was much bigger than me, I wasn't going to let myself feel threatened. Rule of the jungle: Don't show fear unless you want to be lunch.

"Let him in," I heard Cedric say from somewhere in the darkness of the hollow.

The guy looked at me with a menacing glare.

"You heard him, let me in."

He grunted and stepped aside. I went in and he closed the door behind me. The metallic boom of the closing door echoed in the vast hollow chamber beneath the bridge.

The place had a gamy, damp smell, like wet dog and mildew. It took my eyes a while to adjust, and when they did, I could see that the chamber was full of high brick arches that disap­peared into hazy darkness above. I could hear the buzz of traf­fic on the bridge overhead. The only light came from a TV in the corner, and around it the Wolves stretched out on old couches, watching some bloody action film.

"Our new pledge wants to hang with us," Cedric's voice boomed. He didn't bother to get up from his comfortable couch. "Should we let him?"

"Only if he lets me use him as a footstool," said a kid called A/C, who I guessed was Cedric's second in command. I don't know what his real name was―everyone called him A/C because he always claimed to be "too cool for the room."

Cedric laughed. "You heard him, Red. Go be a footstool."

"Nobody uses me as a footstool."

Cedric's eyes turned from the TV and looked at me, meaner than I thought they could get. "You're a pledge. That means you gotta do whatever we tell you until you're a full-fledged Wolf." Then he grinned a nasty grin. "Or would you rather run crying to your grandma?"

"He knows our hangout," said another voice in the dark­ness. "If he tells her . . ."

"He won't," said Cedric. "See, we keep a watch on that old witch. If she starts sniffing around here, we'll know Red told her, and that will be the end of Red's story."

I tried not to think about what end Cedric had in mind.

"Do you want to see what I brought you, or not?" I said impatiently.

Finally he got up and stalked toward me. He glanced down at the bag in my hands. "For me? And it ain't even Christmas." A few of the other guys laughed. Not because it was funny, but because Cedric thought it was. Cedric was the kind of guy who had to have his own private laugh track cackling behind his jokes.

"So, what is it?" he asked. "And it better be more than just chips."

I held the bag up to him. "See for yourself."

He took the bag, threw me a suspicious glance, then tried to look inside, but it was too dark. So he reached in, felt around a bit, and his hand came out holding a human skull. He yelped in surprise and dropped it to the musty ground.

"You think that's funny?" Cedric barked.

"Nothing funny about it," I told him. "Take a good look at it. Tell me if it looks familiar, because it should."

By now all the rest of the Wolves had crowded around. Cedric picked up the skull.

"Is it someone I should know?"

"It's your grandpa."

I watched as a whole busload of emotions drove by on Cedric's face. By the time the bus had passed, I could tell he believed me.

"Where did you get this?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Well, I couldn't tell him the truth―but I had a better story anyway, and I knew I could sell it, because lately I'd become a real good liar.

"Where do you think I got it?" I said. "I stole it from my grandma. She had it hanging on the wall like a trophy, in that secret room where she keeps all her werewolf-hunting stuff."

The Wolves all murmured, cursing in awe and anger. Cedric screwed his lips into a scowl. "That old woman is going down! I won't even wait until the full moon."

"Bad idea," I said. "If you do that, you'll never get all the others."

Cedric looked at me with suspicion written all over his face. "What others?"

"You know . . . The C.W.H."

He gave me a blank look.

"The Confederacy of Werewolf Hunters," I explained. "They're coming into town during the next full moon. They mean to get rid of all of you." And then I corrected myself. "All of us, I mean."

The Wolves all looked at one another, whispering worry. Cedric snapped his fingers to shut them up.

"It ain't gonna happen," Cedric said. "Because Red here is going to feed us information and let us know their every move, so we can attack first. Isn't that right, Red?"

"I don't know," I said. "I thought you wanted me to be a footstool."

"You do this right," Cedric said, "and I'll make A/C into your footstool."

"Hey!" said A/C.

"Shut up!" said Cedric.

I paused for effect. "Okay, I'll do it," I told him. "On one condition."

"What's the condition?"

"That my grandma doesn't end up in a werewolf's belly."

Cedric looked at me, then broke out laughing. At first I wasn't sure what his laughter meant. The rest of the Wolves didn't know, either, but they laughed along with him anyway.

"We got ourselves a master negotiator here!" he said.

"Yeah―maybe we oughta send him to negotiate with the Crypts," snorted Loogie. That brought another round of laugh­ter. The Crypts were the all-girl gang whose turf was way across town. Scary bunch, from what I'd heard.

"So," said Cedric, "Little Red's willing to sell out his grandma's life's work in exchange for her life."

"She's a crazy old woman," I told him, "but she's still my grandma, and I want her to live. If you get rid of all her werewolf-hunting friends, you won't have to get rid of her, because she'll be powerless."

Cedric began to pace the big space of the Troll Bridge Hol­low, weaving in and out of his pack of Wolves. "Sure," he said. "I'll make her watch all her friends get eaten, and then make her watch as you turn into a werewolf right before her eyes. You're right, Red―letting her live will be a much better revenge. It'll be sweet."

He grinned at A/C, and although A/C grinned back, he looked a little worried―like maybe he really would end up being my footstool.

Cedric pointed at me. "You go back to your grandma, but keep your eyes and ears open. Then report back to me."

"I'll be your man on the inside." I turned to go, but Cedric called to me.

"Hey, Red!"

When I turned back to him, something was flying through the air toward me. I snapped my hand up to catch it, and the second it hit my hand, jingling slightly, I knew what it was. My car keys.

"It's parked near the corner of Moat Street and Troll," said Cedric.

I clasped the keys in my hand and felt my heart speed to near breaking. I had my Mustang back! I could have just walked right out of there, gone to my car, and driven off into the sun­set, but instead, I threw the keys back to Cedric. "If Grandma sees me with the Mustang, she'll be suspicious. She'll wonder how I got it back. Best if you keep it, and we play enemies for a while."

Cedric smiled. "Red," he said, "I think you might just be too smart for your own good!"