The jackhammer stopped and the trill of birds replaced it in the quiet. Somewhere, over a low hill, Turtle heard the sound of traffic - a bus stopping with a whine of hydraulics, a horn beeping once in warning, the rev of a high-powered motorcycle peeling out into the street. He knew that the rest of the track team was somewhere far ahead, but there were more pressing matters.
Turtle looked carefully at the bushes, convinced the twins were hiding there somewhere, but in a few seconds he had confirmed what he suspected: the boys were gone.
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