But it wasn’t. Gary let out another scream and ran for his truck. He covered the twenty yards so quickly he seemed like a blur. He jumped behind the wheel, threw it into gear, and hit the accelerator. His tires squealed and smoked as he took off and flew down the road, taking a corner so fast it seemed as though the truck went up on two wheels. Seconds later he was gone. The only proof that the incident had happened was the lingering smell of burning rubber and the baseball bat lodged in the gazebo.
“What the hell?” Tori said, aghast.
She had no idea what had just happened.
I, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea. Gary losing it like that answered a question I hadn’t even thought about asking until then.
Mr. Feit had been caught in the quarantine.
He was still on the island.
And he was still pushing the Ruby.
ELEVEN
“I didn’t cut him off,” Tori said softly, with a slight nervous quiver. “He just came up behind me and…flipped.”
Before I could respond, the sound of screeching tires once again cut through the park. Tori and I both looked around quickly, expecting to see a crazed Gary behind the wheel of his pickup, headed our way.
Instead we saw a silver sedan speeding out of a side street and skidding onto the main road as it turned toward town. The driver gunned the engine and picked up speed, going way too fast for the quiet lane. Behind the car a black Humvee sped out of the same street, in pursuit.
“Now what?” was all I could say.
The silver sedan continued to accelerate, but didn’t get far. An ambulance with a SYLO logo on each side turned onto the street in front of it and sped toward a head-on collision. The two vehicles had the sedan boxed into a three-way game of chicken.
Tori and I could only watch and brace ourselves for what was sure to be a horrific crash.
The driver of the sedan bailed. He turned hard, bounced over the curb and onto the grass of the park. The move may have prevented a head-on crash but he was moving too fast to make such a sharp turn. The car skidded sideways, digging up grass and spewing dirt, then slammed into a cement bench and came to a sudden stop. The impact spun its nose until it was facing back the way it had come, just as the pursuing Humvee arrived and skidded to a stop, blocking his way. A moment later the ambulance arrived, pinning the sedan in place.
The sedan’s passenger door flew open and the driver scrambled out. It was a woman I didn’t know or recognize. She wore a yellow sundress and sandals and looked like any one of a thousand moms you might see walking along Main Street in Arbortown with a toddler in tow, shopping for sunscreen. She leaped out of the car, landed on her knees, then quickly jumped to her feet and started to sprint to get away.
“There’s nothing right about this,” I mumbled.
An older mom-looking preppie lady fleeing from the police wasn’t something you saw in Arbortown every day. Or any day. The Humvee doors flew open and several SYLO soldiers sprang out. One ran to the rear of his vehicle and went down on one knee to steady himself—as he took aim at the woman.
“He’s going to shoot her!” I exclaimed.
Tori grabbed my arm out of surprise and fear. She had the strong grip of someone who had worked on boats all of her life. If I hadn’t been so shocked at what we were seeing, it probably would have hurt.
The soldier fired, but what he had wasn’t a gun. My guess: It was some kind of Taser because there was no crack sound that would normally accompany a gunshot. The only reason I knew he had fired was because the woman suddenly stiffened, stood straight, and fell to the grass. Hard. The SYLO soldiers were on her instantly, picking her up and dragging her back to the vehicles. The woman was limp, her sandaled feet trailing across the grass. They bundled her into the back of the ambulance and the other soldiers jumped inside. One ran back and got into the Humvee, another got behind the wheel of the silver sedan. Moments later, they all drove off the grass and disappeared down the side street.
The only sign that there had been an accident were the tire marks on the lawn.
“What the hell?” I said with a gasp.
Where I was stunned, Tori seemed totally freaked by the scene and sprinted for her scooter.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Where are you going?”
She jumped onto the scooter, fired the engine, and sped off without saying a word.
“You’re welcome,” I called after her.
She didn’t hear. Or didn’t care. In a few seconds she was gone and the park was quiet once again.
It took me a minute or so to get my head back together enough to remember how to move my feet. I went straight home, rolling over in my head the two different events I had just witnessed. As much as the attack on Tori was frightening, in some small way it made sense. I had no doubt that Gary had been introduced to the Ruby because of his over-the-top energy and the fact that he moved with inhuman speed. It was wrong, but explainable. What disturbed me more was seeing the SYLO soldiers chase down and Taser that mom-looking lady. Everything I had heard was that those soldiers were here to protect us. But from what? Ladies who rolled through stop signs? The fact that they zapped her and dragged her away in handcuffs like some escaped prisoner seemed pretty extreme. What could she possibly have done to deserve that?
The event was so disturbing that I couldn’t bring myself to tell anybody about it. I had to hold on to the idea that SYLO was there to help us. I mean, President Neff told us so. What else could I believe? Before pointing fingers and making accusations, I wanted to know more about what was happening. But I had no idea how to do that.
The rest of the week passed without any more disturbing events, unless you count the fact that Pemberwick Island had become the butt of jokes for every comic on TV. “Looking for a hot vacation spot?” Jay Leno asked. “Try Pemberwick Island. You’ll never vacation anywhere else…because they won’t let you leave!” We even made David Letterman’s Top Ten list of reasons to vacation on Pemberwick Island. “Number one: Free CAT scan with every cup of delicious, creamy chowder.”
I might have thought the jokes were funny if I lived anywhere else. Letterman’s line wasn’t even that far from the truth. Every person on the island was required to go to the town hall and give a blood sample. When my family went, I recognized several of the CDC people who had gotten off the troop transport under Granger’s cold glare. It felt a little creepy to have to give blood, mostly because we weren’t given a choice. But if they were trying to isolate a potentially deadly virus and feared that some people were genetically predisposed to contracting it, then I guess it would be stupid not to get tested.
It was one test I desperately wanted to ace.
In spite of the CDC’s bloodletting, Arbortown had started to feel close to normal. The tourists were poking out of their rooms and beginning to go back to the shops and restaurants. And why not? There was nothing else to do and the government was picking up the tab. I even saw people posing for pictures on the pier while pointing to the warship that sat ominously off shore. It was a surreal experience. A thin veil of normalcy had returned, though we all feared that just below the surface was a truth that we didn’t necessarily want to learn.
On Wednesday the announcement was made that there would be a football game on Saturday morning. We were scheduled to play Memagog High, from the other side of the island, in November, but under the circumstances the date was moved up. Captain Granger made the announcement on TV, saying that it would be good for everyone to get out and enjoy a game; and since there were actually two teams on Pemberwick, we were nominated to be the day’s entertainment. I guess that made sense. It wasn’t like either team could travel off the island, so why not play each other? My only problem was that with nothing else happening on the island, the game was sure to be a sellout. That meant I’d have an even bigger crowd to witness my lame attempt to fill Marty’s shoes.
I tried to talk to Tori a few times at school, but she avoided me and it was starting to tick me off. I had st
ood in front of a raging, armed maniac to protect her; the least she could do was acknowledge that I existed. I tried not to let it bug me and turned my focus to the challenge at hand…Memagog High.
Saturday came up fast. The game was on our home field because our stadium was twice as big as Memagog Field. It turned out to be a wise move. When we came out on the field for warmups, the stands were already packed. I’d never seen that before, even when there was a county championship on the line. It seemed as though everyone on Pemberwick had shown up because we were the only game in town. Literally.
As exciting as this was, there was an ominous touch. Armed SYLO soldiers casually circled the field. They walked in pairs, keeping an eye on the crowd. They seemed to want to keep a low profile, but it was hard to miss them. None went into the stands. They weren’t there to watch the game…their eyes were on the people.
Kent was in his glory. During warmups, he ran around the sidelines, screaming things like: “This is our house! Nobody messes with our house!” It was all totally clichéd football psych stuff that was more for the crowd than for us.
When warmups finished, I jogged back to our locker room under the bleachers. Glancing up to the crowd, I saw Mom and Dad give me a thumbs-up. I also noticed that many people were wearing surgical masks, a grim reminder that we might all catch something deadly. I did a quick scan of the bleachers, looking for Mr. Feit. I didn’t see him but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. The crowd was too big for me to see everybody.
One person I didn’t miss was Olivia because she was standing near the tunnel to the locker room. It was a warm morning and she looked incredibly cute in an Arbortown Wildcats T-shirt (that I’m sure Kent gave her) and mini jean shorts.
“Tucker!” she called, waving me over.
I took off my helmet and went to her.
“How’re you doing?” I asked.
“As good as anybody, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “It’s weird being here without my mother. It’s weird being here at all.”
“I hear you,” I said.
“I haven’t seen you all week,” she said.
It was my turn to shrug. “I’ve been keeping a low profile.”
“I miss you.”
She did? I couldn’t think fast enough to say something clever in return.
“Do me a favor?” she asked.
“Sure.”
She leaned forward and gave me a big kiss. Right on the lips. It wasn’t one of those friendly pecks-from-your-aunt kisses either. This was like…a real kiss. It’s not like I hadn’t kissed a girl before. I had. Once or twice. Or once. But Olivia was a couple of years older than me and, well, she knew what she was doing. In that one brief instant, I forgot all about the game. And SYLO and the Ruby and the mysterious exploding shadow. What can I say?
After a few seconds, she pulled back and gave me a sweet smile that was even more electrifying than the kiss. I blinked, cleared my throat, and croaked, “Uh, and what exactly is the favor?”
She touched my cheek and said, “Make me proud.”
I instantly went from the height of ecstasy to the depths of despair. Olivia had opened the door wide for me to impress her and maybe start a real relationship that held the promise of more kissing like that. But there was no way in hell that I could deliver on that favor. That door would slam shut two seconds after I was handed the ball for the first time.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said with about as much casual cool as I could muster…which wasn’t a whole lot.
She gave me a flirty wink. I headed into the locker room.
The game was a good one, a real back-and-forth battle that kept the fans cheering until the final gun. I think it probably helped everyone to forget the mess we were in, at least for a couple of hours. The best thing I can say about my own performance was that unlike the first game, I didn’t embarrass myself. I guess that’s saying something. On the other hand, I didn’t make anybody proud, either. Coach tried working me into the offense early, but I couldn’t do any better than stumble for a few measly yards per carry. I guess the worst came when I was thrown a quick outlet pass in the flat. Our quarterback really put some heat on the ball. I wasn’t ready for it and the ball bounced off my hands—incomplete.
Normally during a game, you don’t really hear the crowd. It’s all just white noise and there’s too much to worry about on the field to even think about it. But the moment that ball bounced away, I heard a collective sigh of disappointment that meant everyone was thinking the exact same thing: “Pierce sucks.” It’s a horrible sound, one that most people never have to hear. But I heard it and it stung.
I have to admit, in that brief instant I wondered what would have happened if I had taken a small sample of the Ruby before the game. Would I have made that catch? Would that massive groan of disappointment and disapproval been turned into ecstatic cheers and the approval of my teammates? And Olivia? I shook the thought quickly. As tempting as the idea was, it was wrong. No, worse, it was dangerous.
As the game went on, I handled the ball less and less, which was probably for the best. The undeniable truth was that I wasn’t as fast or as strong as the other players. It wasn’t for lack of trying. I just didn’t have the physical ability.
Kent, on the other hand, played the game of his life. He kept up the steady cheerleading and pushed the defense to attack. I don’t know how many solo tackles he made, mostly after blasting through a couple of blockers to get to the ball carrier. He had two interceptions, one that he returned for a touchdown, and he caused a fumble that he recovered himself. That play ultimately led to the winning score. I was genuinely impressed…
…until I went over to him on the bench to give him some encouragement. I banged his shoulder pads and said, “Unbelievable, man. Great game!”
Then I saw his eyes. They were wild…just like Marty’s. Gary’s too. In that brief moment I realized the truth. Feit had lied to me. Marty Wiggins had taken the Ruby before he died. I must have been in denial to believe that his incredible performance had been natural. There was no doubt in my mind that he had been under the influence of Feit’s sea salts.
And now it was Kent’s turn.
The rest of the game passed in a blur. I couldn’t take my eyes off Kent, fearing that he might drop dead at any second. He played every play with the same speed and ferocity that he’d started the game with. The Ruby was indeed an amazing substance. When Kent fell on the fumble that gave us the ball for the last time, the crowd on our side went nuts.
I turned away and looked into the stands again because I knew he had to be there.
And he was. Feit was standing in the center of the bleachers, surrounded by a group of ecstatic fans who had no idea that Kent’s life was in danger. He stood out because he was the only one who wasn’t cheering.
He was looking straight at me. When we made eye contact, he pointed to Kent as if to say, “That could have been you.”
My mind was spinning wildly. What was I going to do with this information? Feit was pushing a wonder drug that helped people perform at superhuman levels…and could be deadly. It made our victory feel hollow because Kent was definitely the MVP of the game. If he hadn’t taken the stuff and played like a monster, we might not have won.
One other disturbing thought tickled the back of my brain: If Marty died after taking the Ruby, did this supposedly harmless ergo-whatever supplement have anything to do with the mysterious virus that SYLO was looking for? It wasn’t all that crazy to think that somehow they might all be connected. I wasn’t about to start running around telling people that the sky was falling though. I tried that once before and got nowhere. Nothing happened after we told the sheriff and the Coast Guard about the exploding shadow. Before pointing fingers I wanted to know more.
The game ended shortly after we scored the go-ahead touchdown. After the gun the crowd erupted with enthusiastic cheers for both teams in appreciation for the amazing game and the short vacation from the grim reality of the quarantine.<
br />
I showered quickly and was the first to blast out of the jubilant locker room. A crowd was waiting outside to congratulate the players on our first win, but nobody stopped me. I had been a non-factor in the game. I rounded the building to head for home and saw the one and only person who had stuck around to see me.
“Great game,” Mr. Feit said.
I was so shocked that I stood there with my mouth open.
Feit added, “Then again, you didn’t do much, but that was your choice.”
“Kent took the Ruby, didn’t he?” I said.
Feit’s answer was to smile.
“And Marty did too,” I added. “That’s what killed him.”
“Whoa,” Feit said. “We don’t know that. Did he take it? Yes. I told him to take only a few granules but he downed the whole vial. Hell, you can’t swallow an entire bottle of aspirin without getting sick.”
“You lied to me,” I said flatly.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he said.
“Scare me!” I shouted. “You’re handing out drugs that are killing people and you’re worried about scaring me? You’re responsible for Marty’s death! Did Mr. Nelson take it too? And that carpenter, Gary. He nearly killed a friend of mine!”
“Hang on,” he cautioned. “Don’t go throwing around accusations. The Ruby is totally safe.”
“Tell that to Marty’s family,” I sneered. “And the SYLO people. Is that why they’re here? Is it the Ruby they’re looking for?”
“I don’t know what they’re looking for,” Feit said. “But it’s not my sea salts.”
“No? Is that a lie too?” I asked.
Feit walked slowly toward me. It took all of my willpower not to back off but I didn’t want to give the guy an inch.
“Look,” he said. “You saw what the Ruby can do. You felt it. Do you think Kent could have played like that without it? He took a small dose, the amount he was supposed to take, and what happened? You won your first game. He’s a hero, and the hero always gets the girl. That’s what it’s really about, isn’t it? That cutie with the jean shorts. Olivia, right? I’ll bet she’s outside that locker room right now waiting for Kent just so she can throw her arms around him and tell him how great he was. And you know what? That could have been you. I saw how she kissed you before the game. Don’t expect a repeat performance.”
Sylo Page 10
