She trails off when a stretcher appears, coming from the pool area. We both stop in our tracks. Violet covers her mouth, steps out of the way.
I pray that I’m not about to see a dead kid. I think of Rusty and my heart twists, because I can’t help but imagine my feisty, wonderful niece on that stretcher.
I swallow hard. It’s not her, I tell myself. Someone was with her all night.
The paramedics come closer with the stretcher. They’re hurrying, not walking, not running. The person on it isn’t covered up.
A foot moves on the stretcher, and relief prickles through my body. It’s an adult, not a kid, someone who’s still moving, someone with sandy blond hair and bandages wrapped around his head.
Someone I know.
“Kevin?” Violet says, taking her hand off her mouth.
The stretcher goes past, Violet’s intern laid out on his back, wearing nothing but boxers and a head bandage.
As he looks at us, he weakly lifts one hand as if to wave. Violet watches him go, then turns and walks toward the pool.
It’s full of guilty-looking Bramblebush employees. Zane, Brandon, and Naomi are sitting on lounge chairs, looking shell-shocked. Lydia and Martin are there, fully-clothed. Lydia’s wide-eyed and pale, and to his credit, even Martin looks concerned.
On one side of the pool is a big bloody spot. Everyone’s giving it a wide berth, the blood slowly seeping through the cracks in the tiles.
Bobbing gently nearby on the surface of the pool is a huge, dark inflatable… thing.
“Oh no,” Violet says again, and now she’s moving toward the pool, arms held out, careful not to slip. “No, no, no.”
I follow her coming around the side of the pool, until finally I can see the behemoth straight-on.
It’s unmistakably a floating mechanical bull. Bobbing next to it in the water are four more floats, each about six inches across, with a can of beer firmly wedged in the middle.
“How did this get out here?” Violet says, mostly to herself, crouching at the edge of the pool. “What happened? Is Kevin okay?”
Zane clears his throat, or maybe it’s Brandon. They’re both wrapped in towels, wide-eyed and pale.
“He fell off,” Zane says.
“No shit,” Violet snaps. “What the hell are you doing at the pool?”
No one answers.
“This was closed off for a reason,” she goes on. “There’s no lifeguard. There’s no one watching, and you’re not supposed to be here and you’re absolutely not supposed to be drunk out here!”
“Violet,” Lydia says, stepping around the blood to put her hand on Violet’s arm.
“Did you do this?” Violet snaps.
“I got here five minutes ago,” Lydia says.
“Kevin?”
“Probably just a concussion, but they’re taking him in just in case,” Lydia says, her voice still low and soothing. “Head wounds always bleed like crazy. He’ll be fine, Violet.”
She takes a deep breath, presses her fingers to her eyes, and without thinking I step forward and put my hand on her back.
If anyone sees me or thinks something of it, they keep their mouths shut. Violet takes a deep, shaky breath, and I realize that she’s trying not to cry.
“Okay,” she says. “Okay, we need to get a mop and lots of bleach out here, and I think we’re going to have to drain the pool because this is definitely —”
The door from the lodge opens, and Montgomery walks out.
We all freeze, like teens caught smoking in the basement.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands, his accent thick as syrup even now.
Lydia shoots Zane, Brandon, and Naomi a dagger-filled look.
“This was to be closed off,” he thunders.
Zane stands. He wobbles slightly on his feet, but he keeps the towel on and he doesn’t fall over.
“A couple of us sneaked in to take a swim,” he says, uncertainly. “And… Kevin fell.”
Montgomery gives Zane a withering look, then glares at the mechanical bull.
“Off of that thing?”
Zane just nods.
“That yours?”
“It was just here,” Zane says.
Under my hand, Violet’s back muscles tense.
“Where did it come from?” Montgomery barks.
“Um,” Zane says, rubbing his head. He sways again, one hand clutching his towel, but valiantly stays upright. “I dunno?”
“There’s a box in the corner over there,” says Martin. “That might have a clue.”
“It’s mine,” Violet suddenly says.
Over her head, I catch Martin’s eye. He betrays nothing, his gaze flat and dark.
You fucking shitweasel, I think.
“Yours?” Montgomery says. “Care to explain why you thought this was a good idea?”
“Last time I saw it, it was in my office,” Violet says.
Montgomery just waits.
“It showed up here because there was a… misunderstanding when my credit card got stolen,” she says, rubbing her forehead with one hand. “I was supposed to send it back. I don’t know how it got out here.”
“No?” Montgomery asks quietly.
“Someone must have brought it,” I say, looking right at Martin.
Nothing shows in his face.
“Thank you for that, Elijah,” Montgomery snaps. “Yes, someone must have brought it. All of you, get the hell out of here. Close the pool off now. No one comes out here until biohazard cleanup is finished, and I want all of you in my office first thing Tuesday morning.”