Deadout

by Jon McGoran

  I smiled as I ran, but picturing that pug face even angrier made me stop smiling.

  The winding streets had me totally disoriented, but I found the Mustang and took off, winding through the Campgrounds, worried that at any moment a bullet would shatter my windshield or my skull.

  Glimpses of the Tabernacle’s spire through the trees taunted me with how little ground I had covered. My speed crept up with each wrong turn, as adorable little houses closed in menacingly on all sides. I slammed on the brakes just short of plowing into a small wooden house as the tiny lane I was on ended abruptly. An older man got out of a wicker rocking chair on a porch less than six feet from my window.

  “Hey!” he yelled, reading glasses swinging from a chain around his neck. “Slow down!”

  “Bob!” yelled a voice from inside the house. “Come inside!”

  “What?” he said, turning to look back into the house. “Guy’s driving like a maniac out here.”

  I backed up the car, and then turned hard to the left.

  “Slow down!” the old guy yelled after me.

  I didn’t. I kept going, my tires singing as I pulled left again, and found myself behind the Wesley Hotel. I killed the lights and sat there, waiting and watching, letting my heart settle down.

  After fifteen minutes, I slowly got out of the Mustang and went inside the hotel. The lobby had settled down, only a half dozen security types hanging around. They seemed to be legitimately ignoring me, as if they legitimately didn’t care.

  But I paused at the door and looked down at the floor, at the muddy footprints from the front door to the stairs. I was pretty sure I caught a faint whiff of poop.

  Whoever had been trying to kill me was staying in the same hotel I was.

  27

  I slept half the night with one eye open, and the other half with both eyes open, wondering if some busted up meathead with crap on his shoes and a silencer on his gun was going to kill me in my sleep. A silencer. That was hard-core.

  Teddy’s shadowy friend seemed hard-core, too. I didn’t know how the three of them fit together. I assumed they were together, but I didn’t know that for sure. Pug-face could have been spying on them, just like I was. Hell, he could have had nothing to do with them, and just been pissed off at me for any number of things.

  I thought about how whatever Teddy was up to would impact Nola, and at the thought of her, my stomach tightened. I didn’t know what was going on between her and Teddy. Probably nothing. But I’d seen the way he looked at her, and the way she looked at him, too. I wondered if it would be any better if the guy wasn’t such a douchebag.

  When I finally drifted off to sleep, my thoughts turned to bees. Little ones flying this way and that. Huge containers of them swinging across the sky under helicopters that looked like bees themselves. Dead hives full of dead bees, or even worse, full of nothing at all but mystery and blackness and something sinister.

  I woke to the sound of buzzing and swatted at the sound, but it was my phone, vibrating on the nightstand.

  Moose.

  “Doyle! Can’t believe you left without saying good-bye.” He actually sounded hurt, and I felt bad for a second, even though I hadn’t left and that would have been ridiculous anyway.

  “I didn’t.”

  “You what?”

  “I didn’t leave. I’m still on the island.”

  “Really? Oh, cool. I thought Nola had said you were leaving yesterday.”

  I laughed convincingly. “No, apparently there was some kind of misunderstanding. I’m still here.”

  “So when are you leaving?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh … okay. Well, in that case … are you available to help us today?”

  “Um, yeah, I guess.” It was nine-thirty. It occurred to me that while I’d been asleep, the one-fucked-up-armed man hadn’t snuck in and shot me. “Why?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re short. Pete blew us off. And he’s not answering his phone. Can you step in?”

  I didn’t really feel like it, and I’d agreed to keep an eye on Teddy, but Renfrew had said I didn’t even need to be as involved as I had been. I decided to get a little less involved.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Awesome. Thanks. I’m at the lab. I could pick you up at the farm in twenty minutes.”

  “I’m not at the farm.”

  “Oh, good.” He laughed. “I thought I just woke you up.”

  “I’m at the Wesley.”

  “The hotel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh,” he said, quiet and sad. I felt like I’d let him down. “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m okay. I’ll be at the lab in fifteen.”

  * * *

  It turned out to be more like thirty. Traffic was a mess in Vineyard Haven, a small convoy of black SUVs accompanied by a couple of cruisers and motorcycle cops turning left onto Main Street, toward Renfrew’s house.

  The day before, I’d been ready to tell Renfrew to forget it, and I was still on the fence. I didn’t want to give back the money, but I also didn’t want to go in there and say, yes, your punk-ass son is up to no good—not without having something more to back it up. I needed more information. Plus, when someone tries to kill me, I want to find out who and why. The more I thought about it, the more I was starting to regret telling Moose I would help him.

  When I got to BeeWatch, Moose was checking the equipment in the back of his truck. He looked up and smiled, like he was glad to see me. “Thanks for helping out,” he said as I walked over. “Better be careful, though. You’re on your way to honorary person-who-gives-a-crap status.”

  “Yeah, well, just make sure it doesn’t get out. So what’s up with Pete?”

  “I don’t know. He still thinks we were keeping something from him. He’ll get over it.”

  I nodded. “So what are we doing today?”

  “We’ve got to move the units, switch out the hard drives again, and upload a software patch.”

  “Didn’t we just switch out the hard drives?”

  “There might be a software glitch. I hope there’s a glitch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He stopped what he was doing, his eyes suddenly dark and worried and serious. “No bees,” he said quietly. “None. We’re not picking up any. If it’s not a glitch … I don’t know.”

  We rode in silence for a while. Then Moose said, “So what’s up with you and Nola?”

  “What do you mean?” I preferred the silence.

  He rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re still on the island but you’re not staying with her, for one.”

  I sighed. “I took some time off, so I could stay up here with her. She didn’t want me to.” He looked at me with his eyebrows raised. “She said the city wasn’t the only thing she needed a break from.”

  “Ouch.”

  “It’s been a little tough, back at home.”

  “How could it not be? You know she’s not a city girl.”

  “This whole thing with the multiple chemical sensitivity doesn’t help. She feels trapped in the apartment. She can’t find a job she thinks is safe enough.”

  He gave me a hard squint. “You think she’s making the MCS up?”

  “No, of course not. Nothing like that…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, the whole thing is very vague, she’ll tell you that herself. But she went for treatment and she hasn’t had an event since then.”

  “Yeah, but that’s where she met her friend Cheryl, who had the exact same treatment, then had another episode, and now she has to live out in the woods.”

  “Yeah, I know, but Nola’s had some serious exposures. When we left Dunston, they used powerful chemicals for the decontamination. She didn’t have any reaction. There have been other exposures, too.”

  “So what are you getting at?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to say it. “I think on some level she suspects that she doesn’t have MCS anymore, and it’
s freaking her out. Like it was such a big part of who she was, if she lets that go, she won’t know who she is anymore.”

  “Wow.” He nodded, thinking for a minute. “Don’t they say it’s extra hard for relationships that start out from some sort of crisis?”

  “Some people say that.” What Nola and I went through a back in Dunston was definitely a crisis.

  Moose turned to me. “Nola’s great.”

  “I know she’s great. And I’m an asshole. I realize how improbable this thing is.”

  “I’m not saying that. You’re both, I mean … it should work out.”

  “I hope it does work out. But you look at us and, if you’re honest, you know the odds are against it.”

  He didn’t counter that, and as we drove, I thought about how, really, the odds were against me and anybody. Especially if I couldn’t make things work with Nola.

  It was a gorgeous day, still a little nip in the air but a brilliant, warm sun that you could feel through your clothes. We’d been through the tasks at hand enough times now that we could do it without talking. It felt good to be moving.

  At noon we went back to the BeeWatch headquarters for lunch and to drop off the switched-out hard drives. Benjy was pulling up the same time we did. Annalisa was with him.

  Moose and Benjy started loading the hard drives out of the trucks and into the shed.

  “This a new sideline for you?” Annalisa asked, walking up to me. She was wearing jeans and hiking boots, a crisp white shirt tucked in. The other times I’d seen her, she’d been either dolled up for work or dressed for running. She hadn’t seemed like the type to wear jeans. I saw now that she was. She was pretty good at it.

  “Beats police work,” I replied. “How about you? Doing some field work?”

  She smiled grimly. “Trying to find out what the hell is going on out here. I don’t know for sure what’s going on with Stoma and their GMO bees, but the native bees have disappeared completely. I’m helping Benjy analyze his data, but even just driving around this morning, I didn’t see any bees at any of the bait stations. And there are more deadout hives. I’m analyzing samples, but I don’t have any results yet.” She sighed and lowered her voice. “I’m not saying I agree with bringing in the GMO bees, I don’t, but if the native bees are decimated, at some point it might be a conversation you have to have. I can’t even say anything remotely suggesting that possibility, because these guys think I’m some sort of stooge for Stoma, and I can understand that. Just because I work for them, doesn’t mean they don’t scare me, too.”

  “Scare you? You mean like, for the future?”

  She laughed, but it was uneven and unconvincing. “No, I mean now. They’ve brought in all these security types. The way they look at me, I don’t think they trust me any more than Moose does. And everybody seems tense and paranoid. I don’t like it.”

  She stepped up closer, her face inches away. I could feel her body close to mine. “But I feel better knowing you’re around. Maybe I’ll see you at the Alehouse tonight.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. But as luck would have it, Moose emerged from the shed just then. Benjy came out behind him, his phone up against his ear.

  “Okay,” Moose said, loud and abrupt. He tossed me a burrito, hot from the microwave. In his other hand he was cradling another burrito and two bottles of water. “Let’s go.”

  As we were getting into the truck, though, Moose seemed to notice that Benjy was still standing by the shed, one hand holding his phone up to his ear, the other hand covering his other ear.

  He paused, waiting until Benjy put his phone down.

  “Everything okay?” Moose asked.

  Benjy nodded. “Yeah, my mom, though. I got to go up to Springfield tomorrow, take her to the doctor.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, she’s fine. Probably just lonely, really. I’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Moose said, starting up the truck and giving him a thumbs-up. See you then.”

  * * *

  The next monitoring station was at Polly Hill Arboretum, half a burrito away. When we had the stations positioned where we wanted, we leaned against a fieldstone wall and finished eating. The breeze felt great but then it died out, replaced by an unnatural stillness. Moose seemed to sense it, too, looking around like a dog with his ears back. The place was ablaze with tulips and azaleas, the air fragrant with perfume, but the silence was conspicuous. There were no bees.

  The flowers looked almost desperate, all tarted up and no one around to take advantage of them. Some of the blossoms were already on their way out, the edges of their petals soft and brown and curling. The breeze picked back up, and the tulips dropped a flurry of yellow petals. Several of them transformed in moments to naked stalks, still waving in the breeze, like headless chickens running around, not knowing they are already dead.

  * * *

  We worked quietly the rest of the afternoon, Moose’s dark depiction of “life without bees” hanging over us. The closest thing we saw was a small bright yellow jet arcing across the sky with a winking cartoon bee and the words BEE-PLUS on the tail. That didn’t help, either.

  As we drove back to the lab, I checked my phone. No calls, no e-mail, no messages, and especially none from Nola. She’d be out in the fields all day, I told myself. If she was going to call me, it would be later, after work.

  I helped Moose unload the truck and said yes when he asked if I could help again the next day, since they’d be missing Benjy.

  “Go out for a beer?” he asked, when we were done.

  I looked at my watch. Four o’clock. “No, I have a stop to make.”

  He nodded, studying me. “And I guess you have plans for dinner.”

  I laughed and shook my head, thinking of Annalisa’s suggestion of the Alehouse. “Nothing really. I’ll call you later.”

  28

  My original plan was to go home and clean up before anything else, but the traffic was so congested as I approached Main Street, I couldn’t bear the thought of getting through it and then coming back.

  It took ten minutes to traverse the mile and a half to Renfrew’s compound. When I got there, I pulled onto the grass behind half a dozen black SUVs. As I got out of the car, a dozen Navy SEAL–types emerged from the SUVs, all wearing thin black sweaters and camo pants, looking at me through their shades. I held my hands halfway up as I crossed the street to let them know I’d prefer not to get shot.

  “I’m working for Mr. Renfrew,” I said.

  They stared without saying anything.

  As I walked up the driveway, a different kind of asshole walked down toward me. He was wearing a suit. But as he approached, he held up a badge with one hand while the other one hovered next to the gun on his hip. His fingers were visibly twitching.

  “Right there,” he said.

  I stopped. There was a sniper on the roof, scoping me. For some reason I flipped him off.

  “Can I get my ID?” I asked.

  “Can if you like. Probably not the best idea to flip off the sniper right before you do, though.”

  “I’m with Philly P.D., but I’m doing a side job for Renfrew. He asked me to check in. Name’s Doyle Carrick.”

  He put his ID away and held out his hand, wiggling his fingers.

  I slowly reached into my jacket and pulled out my ID. He looked at it, looked at me, and then looked up at the sniper on the roof and nodded. I hoped that was a good thing.

  “This way,” he said, turning on his heel and walking back up the driveway. As I followed him, the sniper lowered his rifle. He looked about twenty, with spiky blond hair, or maybe a bad case of helmet head. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he shook his head and spat.

  I followed my guide through the front door and into the living room. Percy and McCarter were sitting on the sofa in their new suits, watching TV. They looked at me with blank faces, then they turned back to the TV as we went out onto the patio. Renfrew was standing on the top step, looking ou
t over a lawn that had been transformed. A large tent covered most of it, and the outdoor furniture where we had eaten our bisque had been replaced by a temporary wooden floor covered with rugs and several rows of seats surrounding a mahogany table encircled by ten plush leather chairs.

  Security types in suits and earpieces were milling around, caterers darting back and forth between them.

  Renfrew looked over at me, his eyes widening with mild surprise.

  “Clowns or ponies?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “You’re having a party, right?”

  “I am and I’m quite busy, actually. What are you doing here?”

  He looked over my shoulder and dismissed the guy who had led me there.

  “Checking in.”

  “Oh. Okay, good. Go ahead.”

  “Well, I think you’re right. Teddy is into something.”

  He looked at me, just for a second; then he turned back to watch whatever he was watching. “Like what?”

  “I’m not sure. But he’s skulking around, taking evasive actions to avoid being followed, having secret meetings.”

  Renfrew’s head whipped around. “Meetings with whom?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “But you saw him?”

  “I caught a glimpse.”

  “I thought he took evasive actions and they were secret meetings.”

  I shrugged.

  “Excellent!” He clapped his hands together. “I knew you were the right man for the job.” He came over and put a hand on my shoulder, gently turning me around and walking me back toward the house. “That’s great work, Carrick. Excellent. Percy and McCarter are good men, loyal, but they couldn’t keep up with him. So I can count on you to stay on the job?”

  “Someone came at me with a gun while I was watching Teddy.”

  He stared at me, his eyes narrow. “Someone Teddy was meeting with?”

  “He wasn’t the guy Teddy was meeting, but I think he was with the guy Teddy was meeting.”

  “But you don’t know.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What happened to the man with the gun?”

  I didn’t want to go into detail. “I incapacitated him and escaped.”