Read Bridgetown, Issue #1: Arrival for Free Online Page B

use tape,
she said she didn't want the tape to leave marks in the paint. The
message was clear— this isn't your room,
you can just stay here until the law relinquishes us of your
custody. And when you go, don't leave any reminders that you were
ever here .
    He would be happy to oblige them; it was his
last summer before high school, and he had no designs to live with
a couple of angry old farts in a baby's nursery room any longer
than he had to.
    His parents had taken the brothers to
Disneyland when they were good; there was no Disneyland in
Mississippi, and if there had been, Jesse doubted his grandparents
would have seen fit to take them there. There were only the swamps,
portals by which to get lost in one's imagination. Jesse spent
every moment he could that summer away from the city, getting lost
in the swamps.
    The swamps of Mississippi give up none of
their secrets easily. In Los Angeles, the waters were clear but the
skies were choked with smog; in Mississippi, it was just the
opposite. The skies were clear and had been for millennia, while
the waters were murky, full of promises of hidden dangers and
hidden treasures alike.
    Though the swamps made a
great attraction for Jesse, they were marginally less appealing to
Wayne, who was deep in an Isaac Asimov spell at the time and would
have just as soon stayed in his room all weekend, devouring the
copy of Foundation that he'd pulled down off the shelf of his grandfather's
study. Nevertheless, Jesse usually managed to wheedle him into
coming with him, because at the end of the day, the nursery room
was stuffy and even Wayne could only put up with it for so long
without going stir crazy.
    After twenty minutes' walk along old dirt
roads and through the woods, the brothers came to their usual spot
at the edge of the swamp. The earthen scent of dirt and stagnant
water filled their nostrils. It was comforting.
    Jesse removed his shoes, and dipped his toes
in the muddy bank. "Come on!"
    "Yeah, you can go ahead," Wayne said. "I'm
not ruining my shoes."
    Jesse looked out at the water. He spotted a
waterlogged, decrepit old raft composed of strung-together timber
just a ways down the shoreline. "Look at that raft!"
    He began to run towards it, all the while
splashing water with as much force as he could.
    After a moment, he realized Wayne wasn't
following suit. He turned around. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
    Wayne put his hands on his hips in an older
brother disapproval posture. "We can't just take someone else's
property for a joyride," he said, exasperated. "Besides, where are
we going to go once we're in it?"
    Jesse rolled his eyes. "Out there," he said,
matter-of-fact, gesturing broadly to the deepening swamp behind
him. His finger landed on a small, muddy bit of land in the middle
of the swamp. "Island" wouldn't have been the right word for it—it
was more of a pitcher's mound, albeit one that would be right-sized
for Paul Bunyan. "We can take the raft," Jesse said. "That way you
don't have to look like you're drowning, trying to dog-paddle
across."
    Wayne said nothing.
    Jesse felt a little bad for always bringing
up the fact Wayne had never learned to swim. But not that bad.
    He gave a big, dramatic sigh. "I'm supposed
to be the kid brother you beat up on, you know. Not the other way
around."
    Some moments later, they were on the raft,
floating across the body of still, soupy water to the tiny
outcropping in the middle of the swamp.
    When their dubious raft reached the little
island, they disembarked. Jesse, excited, began to explore the
stomping grounds.
    Broken bottles of booze. Empty cigarette
boxes. "Kilroy was here" graffiti on one of the rocks.
    Yes'sir, this place had all the marks of a
great, good-for-nothing hangout.
    "Look at all this neat stuff!" Jesse said
with a hushed, reverent excitement. "I bet it's been here for a
real long time."
    Wayne rolled his eyes this time. "Paper
wouldn't last that long in these humid conditions. It would
deteriorate too quickly. And