Read Online The Third Adventure by Gordon Korman - Free Book Online Page A

from Cedarville exited the highway a little farther on, heading west on a two-lane rural route. A half mile from the interchange, the streetlights ended, and they navigated without GPS in the darkness. To the residents of the farms they passed, they must have seemed like a funeral cortege, a tight formation of cars on otherwise deserted roads.
    As they approached the vicinity of the three camps, the parents faced a dilemma: Unlike their children, they were planless. Should they split up, with the Bings and Drysdales proceeding to Ebony Lake, the Dukakises and Kellermans to Ta-da!, and the Slovaks and Bensons to Endless Pines? That made sense, except that everyone was convinced that the six missing friends were together. Perhaps they should remain en masse and visit the camps one at a time, maintaining a united front.
    â€œWhy go to the camps at all?” Mrs. Slovak challenged. “Those are the only places we know for sure that our children
aren’t
.”
    Mr. Bing had a suggestion. “Let’s stop at a diner and talk this out over coffee. We’ve all been on the road for three hours. We’re not thinking straight.”
    â€œGood idea,” approved Mr. Kellerman, three cars back. “Is there any place open around here?”
    Towns were few and far between in these woods. The biggest businesses were the summer camps, and they provided their own food service. Mile after mile of wooded nothingness unspooled before the parent parade.
    Just as Mr. Bing was about to despair, a neon sign flickered up on the left.

    â€œFoot gargle?” his wife repeated, bewildered.
    But as they drew closer, they could see that the glowing letters had burned out over the years. Illuminated by headlights, the message was:

    The place turned out to be a grimy gas station that sold drinks, snacks, and cheap souvenirs from a row of dilapidated vending machines. The twelve parents sat down over watery coffee to weigh their options.
    Mrs. Slovak was becoming visibly more agitated every minute. “Why aren’t they answering their phones?”
    â€œMaybe they don’t have them,” Mrs. Bing suggested. “The rule at Ebony Lake is to leave all devices powered off in the cabins. Besides messages home, they’re supposed to be just for emergencies.”
    â€œ
This
isn’t an emergency?” Mrs. Slovak demanded.
    â€œThe reception is probably spotty out in the sticks,” suggested Mr. Kellerman.
    â€œOr their batteries are dead,” added Mrs. Dukakis. “Melissa is always running dozens of applications. What for is beyond me, but I do know that power drain is a problem.”
    â€œLet’s focus on the big picture,” Mr. Bing advised. “Out in the wilderness, separated by not just miles but entire forests, our kids have managed to get themselves in some kind of trouble.”
    â€œTrouble!” Ben’s mother spat. “Why don’t you call it by its real name? It’s your son who’s The Man With The Plan!”
    â€œBut what kind of plan could they possibly have around here?” wondered Mrs. Benson.
    And then an all-too-familiar name was spoken in the tiny shop:
Palomino
.
    Two men leaned on the counter. One, in greasy coveralls, was chewing on a cinnamon bun and talking with his mouth full. “Guy called himself Palomino. Real obnoxious. Must be from downstate.”
    Mr. Drysdale stood up. “Excuse me, are you talking about S. Wendell Palomino?”
    â€œDidn’t catch the fellow’s first name,” the mechanic replied. “He a friend of yours?”
    Savannah’s father flushed. “In a manner of speaking.”
    â€œWell, you might want to take a ride over to the old Peterson place, seeing as how I can’t get there till morning.”
    Mrs. Slovak spoke up. “Did he mention anything about children? Thirteen-year-olds?”
    The coveralled man shook his head. “Nah, nothing about any kids. Says he’s