Oracle--Fire Island

by C. W. Trisef

  “Your attention please, your attention please,” the announcer’s voice returned, quieting the crowd. “It is with great pleasure that we introduce our new girls’ volleyball coach,” he paused, asking for a drum roll while all the boys strained their necks, “Miss Carmen!”

  A silhouette emerged within the shadowy veranda where the trainers and assistant coaches were seated. Miss Carmen, full of poise and dignity, walked unhurriedly onto the center court. With remarkable balance, she strutted in the sand as if she were a model on a runway, penetrating her audience with a wanton stare that sent men’s hearts swooning and women’s brows furrowing. There was no denying she was fair to look upon, with a body built for volleyball, and there was a strong self-confidence in her dark brown hair and ruby red lips. Even the announcer seemed mesmerized by Miss Carmen’s presence, as he fell mute for several moments.

  “Uh…let’s see here,” he was heard at last, struggling to find where he had left off, “Miss Carmen comes to us all the way from South America, where she is the setter on the women’s Chilean national volleyball team.”

  “You were right,” Paige whispered to Ana.

  “Yeah,” she replied, “just look at those shorts! Ret’s boxers are longer than that.”

  Paige blushed. “No, I mean about Chile.”

  “Girl, how can you think about food at a time like this?” Ana asked. Paige let it go.

  “When she heard about the success of our volleyball program,” the announcer continued, “Miss Carmen jumped at the opportunity to take over as head coach and fulfill one of her dreams to teach the sport she loves. And, having just celebrated her twentieth birthday, she’s sure to fit right in at Tybee High. Please give a warm welcome to Miss Carmen!” The crowd again roared with thunderous applause.

  “And what’s up with everyone calling her ‘Miss Carmen’?” said Ana, sounding put upon. “Doesn’t she have a last name?”

  It wasn’t long after Miss Carmen’s grand debut that the tryouts got underway. The first group on display was the remaining members of last year’s team. Miss Carmen played a couple points with them, and Paige and Ana weren’t sure if their purpose was to show off or intimidate the girls who would be trying out.

  “Wow, she’s really good,” Paige admired Miss Carmen, whose superior setting skills proved to be the downfall of her opponents.

  “Don’t let them scare you,” Ana cautioned, but the only person Paige didn’t want watching her was Ret.

  It was lucky for her, then, that Ret hadn’t joined the festivities yet, preferring to play in the water a little bit longer. He was having too much fun, taking advantage of the day’s unusually large waves, which only improved as the afternoon wore on. Before catching a wave, Ret liked to paddle a good distance offshore and lie on his surfboard, rolling with the approaching swells before they became breaking waves. It was in this position when, all of a sudden, something grabbed Ret’s leg and yanked him off his board. Ret watched the sunlight at the surface gradually disappear as he was dragged deeper and deeper into the sea. Finding his bearings, he looked down to see what had latched onto him. Seeing no blood and feeling no pain, he wasn’t very surprised to see the figure of a man. And then he recognized the subsuit.

  “Mr. Coy!” Ret screamed, then abruptly stopped upon losing so much air. Knowing he would drown if he didn’t halt Mr. Coy’s dive, Ret spotted some rocks on the approaching seafloor and waved his fingers to propel them at Mr. Coy’s grip. The pelted hand forsook Ret’s leg, and he rushed to the surface.

  “What’s that guy trying to do, kill me?” Ret said to himself in between desperate gasps for air. “It’s not like I have power over water,” which was exactly what Mr. Coy wanted to find out.

  Suddenly exhausted, Ret found his surfboard and slowly paddled to shore, frequently searching his surroundings for any more Coy traps. He collapsed on the beach and had only closed his eyes for a few moments when he heard the names of Ana Cooper and Paige Coy announced from the volleyball courts. They were in the next group to try out for the high school team.

  Ret made his way up the beach towards the grandstand, where hundreds of people were still gathered, all watching the goings-on with rapt attention. From his vantage point in the very back, all Ret could see was the volleyball flying back and forth in the air from one side of the court to the other. As he reached and strained for a better view, he felt something like static moving up and down the back side of his body. When he turned around to see what was going on, he bumped into a man holding a metal detector.

  “Oh, excuse me, pardon me,” the intrusive man said gruffly through his thick mustache. When he scurried off, the breeze swept the wide-brimmed hat off his head, and Ret’s suspicions were confirmed: Mr. Coy.

  Ret knew that Ana would be mad if he didn’t keep his promise and watch her performance at tryouts, so he set out to find himself a better seat. He snaked his way through the crowd, all the way to the bleachers. At the very end of the fourth row, he spotted a tiny piece of bench that a young woman was reserving for her purse. He decided to approach her and ask if he could sit there. Just before he opened his mouth to speak to her, however, Mr. Coy, concealed underneath the bleachers at precisely the end of the fourth row, released into the air an invisible cloud of helium from one of the kickoff’s many balloons. So when Ret asked his question, his voice sounded like a chipmunk’s.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” Ret’s eyes widened at the sound of his voice. He quickly covered his mouth. The young woman and her friends giggled but obliged.

  Ret’s frustration with Mr. Coy subsided as he directed his attention toward the tryouts. Ana, with a face full of determination, was bringing the heat and pleasing the crowd while Paige was buckling under the pressure. Once, when Paige was playing at the net, her curly hair got tangled in it, halting play. Then, when it was her turn to serve, she sent the ball directly into the back of Miss Carmen’s head, which earned her an ugly boo from the crowd.

  “Wow, she’s terrible,” Ret heard someone behind him say about Paige. Ret would have countered such a rude comment directed at his good friend, but he wasn’t sure if his voice had returned to normal.

  When the whistle blew to end their group’s audition, an exultant Ana exited the court with Paige following behind, her head down. Ret hurried after them.

  “Good job today,” he called out before joining them by one of the few fire pits that had not been swallowed by the crowd.

  “Yeah, good job today, Ana,” Paige said sullenly, excluding herself from the compliment.

  “I like the way you play,” Ret said, trying to make her feel better. “I mean, not everyone’s hair is so pretty that it disrupts the whole game.”

  Unseen to Paige, Ana shot Ret a confused glare, as if to say, “That’s supposed to make her feel better?”

  “So you think my hair is pretty?” Paige reiterated, suddenly perking up.

  “Um, yeah,” said Ret, looking to Ana’s facial expressions for help. “Pretty…curly?”

  “Oh, Ret,” Paige smiled, “you always know how to make me laugh.”

  “So,” Ret sighed, wanting to change the subject to something less awkward, “you’re not going to watch the rest of the tryouts?”

  “No,” said Ana, “we’ve both had enough of Miss Carmen for one day. Besides, we wanted to claim a pit before they’re all taken.”

  With the setting of the sun, the tryouts had been reduced to free play, although the only ones waiting in line were googly-eyed males whose lifelong wish, it seemed, was to play alongside Miss Carmen. Even though the temperature had scarcely slackened a degree or two, the fire pits were ignited, casting flickering panels of light in the growing darkness.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” a voice with a thick Italian accent greeted them. “May I take your order?” With a white apron taut around his waist and a poufy chef’s hat on his head, the waiter stood with pen and paper, poised to write.

  “Yes, I’ll have one of the hamburgers,” Ana
stated quite instinctively, never denying the chance to be served, “but with no onions—you know, bad breath and all.”

  “Ah, but of course,” replied the waiter, scribbling down Ana’s order. “And to drink?”

  “I’ll take a diet…wait a minute,” Ana stopped mid-sentence, “since when are there servers at a buffet-style barbecue?”

  “Yeah,” Paige joined in, “and why doesn’t anyone else have a waiter?”

  “My, my,” the waiter said quickly, “looks like your fire could use some more fuel.” The waiter bent over and picked up a fresh log from the wood pile.

  “Dad!” Paige exclaimed, getting a better look at their server when he bent closer to the flames. “Is that you?”

  The waiter made no reply but hurled the log into the pit, where the disturbed fire exploded into sparks and flames. Then, still bent over, he spun around until his backside collided with Ret, launching Ret forward into the blazing pit.

  “Ret—watch out!” Ana cried.

  But before Ret made any contact with the inferno, he subconsciously called upon all the sand surrounding the pit to come pouring into it, completely and immediately extinguishing the fire. Then Ret came crashing down on the sand, safe and unharmed.

  “What on earth are you trying to do, Dad?” Paige interrogated her father.

  “He’s been harassing me all day,” Ret explained.

  “Harass is such a harsh word,” Mr. Coy began to justify himself. Then, seeing the faces of his three young associates cloud over with silent perplexity, he turned around to see what had captured their attention. It was Miss Carmen. She had seen the whole thing.

  “Who the heck are you?” Mr. Coy asked the snooping witness with no sense of propriety.

  “Miss Carmen,” she said sweetly. “And you must be Benjamin Coy,” she assumed, analyzing his costume from head to toe with an air of ridiculousness.

  “At your service,” said Coy, regaining his posture and resuming his stance as a waiter.

  “I am your daughter’s volleyball coach,” Miss Carmen informed.

  “You mean she made the team?” Ret blurted out. Miss Carmen nodded.

  “But she stinks,” said Mr. Coy.

  “She most certainly does not stink,” Miss Carmen asserted, “and she and Ana will both make great additions to our team.” She winked at Ana.

  “Yes!” Ana celebrated, pumping her fist at the announcement. “Did you hear that, Paige? We made the team! Both of us.” She hugged Paige, even though she didn’t seem as thrilled at the news.

  “Now would someone kindly tell me what just happened here?” Miss Carmen asked, staring at Ret who was still half-buried in the fire pit. The others looked at him as if they had forgotten all about him.

  “Nothing that a sweet little thing like you should worry about,” Mr. Coy told her coldly, turning his back to her to give her the hint that he wanted her to leave. For the next several seconds as she waited for an answer, Miss Carmen never took her eyes off Ret. She slowly analyzed his every feature while Paige followed her wandering eyes, unsure if the flames she saw in Miss Carmen’s eyes were a reflection of the surrounding bonfires or the distaste swelling within herself.

  “Fine,” Miss Carmen finally concluded when it was apparent no one was willing to explain what had just occurred. Then, with her gaze still fixed on Ret, she said with an enticing grin, “All I can say is, I like what I see, Ret. I like what I see.” She walked off.

  “Well that’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” Mr. Coy said once she was gone.

  “Yeah, looks like someone’s got the hots for you, Ret,” Ana observed. “I like her!”

  “What?” a ruffled Paige interrupted. “All you’ve ever said are nasty things about Miss Carmen, and now you like her?”

  “And she likes me!” said Ana. “Did you see the way she looked at us? And we know she likes you. I mean, you hit her in the back of the head during tryouts, and she still wants you on the team!”

  “Whatever,” Paige sighed. She knelt down to help Ret out of the pit.

  “Have any of you been in your principal’s office lately?” Coy asked another one of his off-topic yet loaded questions, something obviously on his mind. The three students shook their heads to tell him they hadn’t; then they asked why he wanted to know. “Because I need to know if that second chest is still in his office.”

  “Why?” Ret wondered.

  “Because I want to know what’s inside of it,” Coy responded in a condescending tone, as if Ret had asked a silly question.

  “You mean you only looked inside one of the chests?”

  “I ran out of time,” Coy explained, “but I’m hoping its contents give us a clue as to what the next element is and where we can expect to find it because I’m all out of ideas. The fire pit was Plan Z.”

  “Why don’t you break into his office like you did before?” Ret suggested.

  “Because he’s on to us now,” said Coy. “He’ll be expecting that. It needs to look natural—something that won’t give him reason to be suspicious of us. Besides, there’s no sense in going to the trouble of breaking in again if, in fact, the chest isn’t even there.”

  “Here’s an idea,” Paige suggested as she brushed the last little bit of sand off Ret’s arm. “How about you just look through his window?”

  “No, he keeps the blinds shut,” Ret remembered.

  “You could pay off the janitor,” Ana said.

  “No, it needs to be one of you three,” Coy decided. “One of you needs to get sent there.”

  “Once was enough for me,” Ret said, counting himself out.

  “I’m not getting in trouble,” said Paige, unwilling to volunteer herself and mar her record.

  “Oh, come on,” Ana groaned at her friends’ aloofness, “I’ll do it. How hard could it be?” Then, turning to address Mr. Coy, she asked, “What did you have in mind, boss?”

  He replied, “Look for the sign.”

  Chapter 3

  A Visit from Lionel

  It was the smell of sizzling bacon that awoke Ret from sleep. Theirs was the kind of house where they were always within earshot of each other, especially when Pauline took to cooking in the kitchen. The bang of bowls and clang of cutlery were not uncommon. Pauline was a regular souschef, capable of whipping up just about any dish on demand. She found great satisfaction in nurturing her children, and there was scarcely a meal eaten except together as a family.

  Ret saw Ana whiz past his bedroom door, outfitted in her volleyball gear. At the scent of something peppered and oniony, he rolled out of bed and followed his nose, knowing the aroma portended delicious things. It was going to be a good day.

  “Eat up, dear; you’ll need your strength for practice today,” Ret overheard Pauline say to Ana as he descended the stairs. “I still feel awful for missing your tryouts. It was poor planning on my part—you know, having met with the school board just a few days before.” She wasn’t telling them anything they hadn’t already heard, but Ana listened politely, hoping it would help her mother feel better about the situation. “I wasn’t feeling up to braving the crowd, especially one with so many people from school.” She turned from the stove and placed a skillet full of scrambled eggs on the table. Her apron, speckled with splatters, hugged her waist tightly. “Good morning, Ret.”

  “Good morning,” he replied, taking his seat at the breakfast table.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Ana consoled, the same way she had before. Then she added, “Besides, Ret was there to cheer me on. And so was Mr. Coy, so you—”

  “Mr. Coy was there?” Pauline asked in shock.

  “Yeah, but not for the tryouts,” said Ana. “He was mostly just bugging Ret the whole time, trying to figure out what the next element is going to be.”

  “He wasn’t bugging me,” Ret corrected, trying to downplay Ana’s words since Pauline had a tendency to overreact, especially if Mr. Coy was involved.

  “You said he tried to drown you—” Ana inserted.<
br />
  “He did what?” Pauline balked.

  “—and he pushed you into the fire pit.”

  “Good grief,” Pauline said with frustration, “not this mess again. Will that man ever leave you alone, Ret? Hasn’t he put you—us—through enough lately?” Her discontent was evident as she smashed her toast while trying to butter it. “Now he’s conspiring behind my back again. I think it’s time I marched to that mansion of his and gave him a piece of my mind.”

  “No, no,” Ret protested respectfully, “I’m actually a little glad he did what he did.” Ana glared at Ret with a mouthful of hash browns. “I’ve also been wondering what’s next with the Oracle.”

  “Oh, Ret,” Pauline sighed. “I think it would do us all some good if we took a break from that stuff for a while. It was quite the disruption to our lives, and I know you’re still shaken up about what happened.” She was right about that, at least. “Let’s just leave it alone for a while. You’re both going to be sophomores soon, and you need to focus on your schoolwork. Plus, I’m just ecstatic that Ana and Paige made the volleyball team, and we don’t want anything getting in the way of them having a great season.”

  Pauline’s words had a calming effect on the conversation. Soon, all that was heard was the scraping of silverware on well-worn plates, the kind with lots of gray marks in the center from countless uses. Pauline’s attention shifted to the small stack of mail sitting beside her place setting.

  “Oh,” she said, “here’s a letter for you, Ret.”

  “Ret got mail?” Ana asked incredulously.

  “There’s no return address,” Ret observed, receiving the envelope from Pauline.

  “That’s sketchy,” remarked Ana.

  Ret eagerly tore open the envelope, for, as Ana had pointed out, mail for Ret was a rarity. Inside was a small sheet of yellow notepad paper, with a short message scribbled on one side in black ink:

  Dear Ret,

  I hope this note finds you well. I’ll be in town this week and would very much like to speak with you. If possible, meet me at the Savannah River Delta Nuclear Power Plant this Thursday at noon.