Cole
WHEN GROVER AND I arrived at the clubhouse, I was surprised to see that Tank, Raptor, and Tail were also still wearing the clothes they’d had on the night before. They were all standing next to their bikes and talking.
“What’s going on?” I asked, noticing their grave expressions.
“We got a situation. It’s not good,” said Tank. “Follow me. Be prepared, though. We’ve got a little bit of a drive.”
“Okay,” I replied.
Tank nodded to the others and they all got onto their bikes.
“I wonder what’s going on?” asked Dover, as we followed them away from the clubhouse in the van.
“You don’t know either?”
“No. I have no idea.”
Forty minutes later, we were driving down a dirt road, two towns over from Jensen. When we finally stopped, it was at a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods.
