Read Online The Last Place on Earth by Carol Snow - Free Book Online Page B

double-check the directions.”
    â€œI wish I had a pony,” Peter responded.
    We passed a cabin set close to the road. It was all roof, shaped like an upside-down V. A painted wooden sign out front said 1135 HEMLOCK ROAD—THE MURPHY’S (which, by the way, is an incorrect use of the apostrophe).
    The Shooting Star Society was at 1137 Hemlock Road. “It should be next.” My pulse raced.
    We passed an empty lot before coming to the next cabin: 1139 HEMLOCK ROAD — THE JONES ’ (also wrong). Where was 1137? Did the numbers go out of order? We traveled down the road, checking the house numbers, and they all went up. We turned around and parked in front of the lot. Perhaps the building was set too far back to see from the road.
    I opened my door. The air smelled of pine trees and wild grasses. Around us, birds chirped and branches clicked with the sound of little critters hopping around the canopy. Cute little critters. Like squirrels. Or raccoons. Or rats or snakes.
    I was going with squirrels.
    The dry ground crackled underfoot. It was much cooler up here than on the valley floor, but still the air felt heavy. And also, there were bugs. I swatted at the air and worked my way around the brush. The trees grew thick and tall. A pricker stabbed my toe. It stung again when I pulled it out. And I’d thought flip-flops were the perfect shoe for every occasion.
    Peter, in sneakers and basketball shorts, strode ahead of me. When I finally caught up to him, I saw what he did: a vista opening onto wilderness. There was no headquarters building here. There never had been.
    â€œYou sure you got the right address?”
    â€œPositive.”
    â€œAnd there’s no other Hemlock Road in Big Bear?”
    â€œNope.”
    Peter wiped sweat off his brow. “Well, this blows.”
    I was all set to agree. Instead, I burst into tears.
    â€œOh, Daze. It’s gonna be … Henry’s gonna be … I’m sure we’ll…”
    â€œI’m hungry,” I sobbed.
    â€œThat’s why you’re crying?”
    â€œNo-oh-oh.” I sobbed a little more. Peter looked majorly uncomfortable. I don’t cry all that much, and when I do, it’s almost never in front of anybody. Besides, Peter had had very little human interaction over the last few months, so he really didn’t know how he was supposed to behave in the face of human emotion.
    â€œSorry.” I wiped my hand across my face and sniffled. “Even though I knew he probably wouldn’t be here, I kept hoping.”
    â€œHe’s got to be somewhere,” Peter said. “People don’t just disappear.”
    â€œI never thought so before, but—”
    â€œWe’ll find him.”
    Peter turned around and headed for the car, and I followed him, not even stopping to pull out my prickers.
    *   *   *
    After grabbing a snack at one of the little country stores, we wound down the mountain, past the burnt-out trees, and down to the flatlands that led back home.
    Nothing made sense. Nothing. Why would Henry’s family run away like that? Who were they hiding from, and what was the Shooting Star Society? Were they in the federal witness protection program or something? I thought stuff like this only happened in the movies.
    Now that we were off the mountain, I had service again. I had a text waiting from an unknown number.
    I pushed a button and there it was:
    34.451431
    -119.347873
    HURRY

 
    Eleven
    WHAT DID THOSE numbers mean? Were they some kind of code? Or a math puzzle I was supposed to solve? I was more confused than ever.
    The text was from Henry; I was certain. It didn’t come from his old cell number (which was still out of service; I had checked every day), but the area code, 714, was right.
    I thumbed a quick reply— Where are you? —before calling the number, only to receive an automated voice mail recording. The phone was turned off.
    â€œHow