“Did you . . . find anything?” asks Zack, eyeing the evidence bag.
The deputy gives him a sad smile. “There’s nobody onboard, as you know. But we’re still having a look around.”
“Do you think he just fell overboard?” asks Zack.
Nola shoots him a confused look. “What do you mean? Obviously that’s what happened.”
Zack stays focused on the deputy. “I mean, like, there wasn’t evidence of—foul play?”
The deputy’s eyes widen in surprise. But only for a split second. Almost instantly, they narrow into suspicious slits. “Did you expect there to be?”
“I—no! I just . . .” He shrugs. “I watch a lot of TV.”
“Apparently.” The deputy purses her lips. “We can’t say more until the Coast Guard folks get here. But there’ll be a thorough investigation. I can assure you of that.”
Nola takes Zack by the arm. “Thanks, Officer. Good luck.” To Zack, she adds, “Come on. No point hanging around here gaping like this.” Zack lets her guide him away from the scene.
Lamar falls into step on the other side of him. “You okay, Zack? You look a little sick.”
“I’m fine,” Zack mutters. “It’s just pretty awful, you know?”
“It is,” Nola agrees. “But what on earth made you ask about foul play? Nobody gets murdered on Wardwell Island. The crime rate is literally zero. And the guy went out in that boat by himself.”
“To be fair,” says Lamar, “somebody could’ve pulled up alongside him in another boat.”
“And then what? Thrown a harpoon at him? Get real. The poor guy probably lost his footing on the wet deck.”
“I heard one of his friends say he was an experienced sailor . . .” Zack starts.
“Accidents can still happen. Or maybe he had a heart attack or a seizure or something and just fell over the side.”
“But doesn’t something about this seem . . . off to you?” Zack demands. “Like it isn’t that simple?”
“No,” says Nola flatly. “It’s awful, but it’s not suspicious.”
“Well, what about the anniversary thing?” Zack presses. “What’s that about?”
“Anniversary thing?” Lamar echoes, confused.
Zack explains. “Back at the store, Eliza said something about an anniversary. Something like, having a tourist disappear felt spooky, because of some anniversary. Do you know what she meant?”
Lamar frowns and twists at his ring. “I can’t think of anything . . .” He trails off as his phone starts buzzing.
“Neither can I,” says Nola. “That is kind of weird, actually. I guess we can go back to the store and ask Eliza about it . . .”
“Uh, no, we can’t,” says Lamar. “Li just texted me to say she’s closing up early. Now that is weird.” He starts typing on his screen. “I’m asking why. Also, babe, it’s almost six.”
Nola swears quietly. “If we’re late to dinner, Grandpa will cook us and eat us as his appetizer.”
“Huh,” says Lamar, staring at his phone. He’s clearly not reacting to what Nola just said. “Li says she’s feeling sick. She was fine an hour ago . . . Oh, and Zack, she says to tell you that your dad just came by and got Ben and Leah.”
“Tell her thanks,” Zack says. “And that I hope she feels better. If you guys need to run to dinner, I can catch you later . . .”
“No, come with us,” Nola cuts in. “Grandpa likes you. I mean, as much as he likes anyone. And he always makes too much food.”
“Plus,” says Lamar, “if anyone knows anything about that anniversary . . .”
Zack almost smiles. “It’d be Weird Hal.”
***
Weird Hal is a living legend. Technically, his name is Felix Halwin. Former mayor of Wardwell, founder of the island’s most popular B&B, board member of every local organization. Wardwell’s biggest street is named after him. So is an ice cream flavor. The souvenir shops sell mugs with his face on them. He also happens to be Nola’s grandfather.
His house sits on the western slope of Moray Hill and has one of the island’s best views. All the outside walls are glass, from floor to ceiling. Same with most of the interior walls. Standing outside, you can see the entire living room and kitchen. The first time Zack got invited here, when he was about ten, he and Hal discussed this.
Zack: “Mr. Halwin, why is your house made of glass?”
Hal: “Have you heard the phrase ‘People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones’?”
Zack: “Um, I have now.”
Hal: “Well, that’s why. It’s a good reminder for me.”
By now Zack’s used to it. And nobody else lives on Moray Hill, so it’s not as if nosy neighbors will be spying on tonight’s meal. Still, the structure looks extra exposed tonight. Zack wouldn’t mind some brick or even some concrete, something solid to block the outside world.
Nola lets them all inside with her key. Weird Hal is in the kitchen, making some kind of soup. Judging by the smells, he’s used all the spices in his cabinet. Hal is what you’d call an adventurous cook. You’d call him that because you can’t call him a good cook.
“Cutting it close, young lady,” he says gruffly without turning away from the stove. “Did you bring Mr. Wyatt with you?”
“She did,” says Lamar. “Good to see you, Mr. Halwin. Thanks for having me.”
“I brought our friend Zack Silver too,” Nola adds. “If you don’t mind another person?”
“Does it matter if I mind? I can’t exactly throw him out now that he’s here.” Hal finally looks over at them. For a guy who’s in his eighties, he has an amazing energy in his face. If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was angry. But he’s just intensely alert. The thick eyebrows are always furrowed, like they’re waiting for birds to nest in them. The eyes are always sharp and watchful. It’s half impressive, half terrifying. “Mr. Silver, make yourself useful and help Nola set the table. Mr. Wyatt, taste this. Tell me if it has enough salt.”
Five minutes later they’re sitting in the dining room eating. Hal quizzes each of them in turn about school, sports, jobs. Zack waits it out. You don’t try to steer a conversation with Weird Hal. You let him ask the questions, wait for him to leave you an opening.
The full-length glass walls look out onto the endless Pacific. Zack suddenly notices that Hal has no family photos on display, no artwork or maps, no certificates or plaques. The guy doesn’t need to decorate his walls, because the walls are also windows. Zack has never thought about this before. It feels sad to him for some reason.
“What’s the matter with all of you?” Hal finally demands. “Something wrong with the food?”
“No, sir,” they all say.
“It’s just been kind of an upsetting day,” Nola begins. She launches into the story of the lost tourist. Hal keeps eating, but the spoonfuls move more slowly. When Nola finishes, he doesn’t comment.
Zack drops a question into the silence. “When’s the last time there was an accident like that on Wardwell Island, Mr. Halwin?”
“Oh, probably seventy-some years ago,” says Hal dismissively. “But I’m not surprised to hear that it’s happening now.”
The present tense—happening—surprises Zack. But he focuses on the more important part. “Why aren’t you surprised?”
Weird Hal takes a long, slow slurp of soup. He seems determined to suck every drop off his spoon. “Because this island is cursed.”
Chapter 4
Nobody knows what to say for a minute. At last, Zack settles for “What do you mean by ‘cursed,’ sir?”
Hal adjusts his shirt collar. “Oh, nothing.” He picks up a roll and starts tearing it up. Scraps of bread plop into his soup bowl. “I just meant that wherever you are, it’s only a matter of time before bad luck strikes. We were overdue for some unfortunate incident. That’s all.”
Zack knows that tone. His dad uses it all the time. I’ll make it to the next game. We’ll go see that movie together. As soon as I’m done wi
th this article . . . As soon as I get another new staff writer . . . Next time . . . It’s the tone people use when they lie.
Zack looks at the others. Lamar’s face is all confusion and curiosity. Nola looks tenser, more deeply worried. Hurt, even?
Hal seems deeply absorbed in destroying his dinner roll.
Zack tries another angle. “Is there an anniversary of some kind coming up, Mr. Halwin? Or one that’s just happened?”
Hal drops what’s left of his roll into the bowl. Soup sloshes onto the tablecloth. “Excuse me, Mr. Silver?” He’s not exactly glaring at Zack. At least, not more than usual. But Zack can almost see the lights swirling behind the old man’s eyes: blue and red, blue and red.
“Someone in town mentioned an anniversary.” Zack keeps his voice steady, casual. “I was just curious.”
Hal picks up his napkin. Wipes up the spilled soup. Fishes his spoon out of the bowl and wipes it off too. All without taking his steely eyes off Zack.
“How curious?”
Zack fights the urge to swallow. “Like, on a scale of one to ten?”
“Like, you want the short answer or the long answer?”
“The . . . complete answer.”
Hal’s eyes don’t change, but his mouth hitches up in a half-smile. “Well, I can’t give you that. But I can give you the long version.”
He refolds his napkin and sets it down. Sets the spoon on top of it, at a perfect ninety-degree angle with the table edge.
“You’ve heard of the atomic bomb, right?”
“Um,” says Zack, not sure where this is coming from or leading to. “Sure.”
“What do you know about its history?”
Zack glances at Nola and Lamar. They look as lost as he does.
But Lamar says, “Well, nuclear weapons were invented during World War II, right? By us. The United States, I mean. And we basically ended World War II by dropping a nuclear bomb on Japan, right?”
“Two bombs,” says Hal flatly. “One on the city of Hiroshima, one on Nagasaki.”
“Okay,” says Zack, who vaguely remembers this from his history classes. “But what does that have to do with us?”
Hal raises his bushy eyebrows. “Well, I can give you one example. I served in the Pacific during the war. My division was scheduled to be part of the invasion of Japan. Military experts predicted massive casualties for that invasion. But the invasion never happened at all, because the US government dropped nuclear bombs instead. Two cities were partly vaporized. Tens of thousands of people died. Radiation from the explosions poisoned countless others. And Japan surrendered. So those bombs probably saved my life. If they hadn’t been dropped, perhaps I wouldn’t be here today. Neither would Nola. You wouldn’t know her. Maybe you wouldn’t be alive either, if you had a grandparent or a great-grandparent in my position.”
He picks up his spoon and slurps a mouthful of soup. “So there’s that. But in terms of how this relates to Wardwell Island . . . Let me put it this way. You know about the Cold War? The nuclear arms race?”
“Kind of?” Zack ventures.
Nola jumps in. “The United States versus Russia. In, like, the fifties. When everybody was stocking up on bombs in case of another world war.”
Hal rubs the crease above his nose. Zack thinks he looks irritated. But it’s always hard to tell with Hal. Irritation is his facial screensaver. “The United States versus the Soviet Union, which was more than just Russia. And it lasted from the fifties through the early nineties. But the point is, during that time, the US military did a lot of nuclear testing. Trying to figure out how to make bigger, better bombs. And by better bombs, I mean bombs that would cause even more destruction. They tested weapons in the ocean, in deserts, deep inside mountains.”
He leans back in his chair, looks at the window-wall behind Zack. This time Zack has no trouble reading his expression. It’s pure bitterness.
“Sixty years ago, they did testing here.”
“Are you serious?” blurts out Lamar. “In the San Juan Islands?”
“On Wardwell Island, specifically. Deep underground. Under Moray Hill, six thousand feet down, they exploded a bomb. Just to see what would happen.”
“Holy . . .” says Zack. He can’t find any other words.
Hal goes back to eating his soup. No one else does. “That’s the anniversary you heard about. Yesterday was the sixtieth anniversary of the test.”
“Did you have any say in it?” asks Nola. “You were already the mayor by then, right?”
Hal nods. “Youngest mayor in Wardwell’s history, just starting my first term. I was briefed. Couldn’t say no, but I was informed. I still remember the commander who talked to us. He explained that no radiation would leak out of the underground test site. We’d be perfectly safe, and so would the island’s environment. The soil, the water, all that.”
Zack says slowly, “You said they did this—just to see what would happen?”
“Pretty much. Scientific experimentation, you know.”
“That’s insane.”
“Insane but normal,” says Hal. “Like many things that governments do.”
“So what happened?” asks Nola.
Hal’s face turns grim again. Zack sees his jaw go tight. Sees him swallow even though he hasn’t had another bite of soup. “I made a bad bargain. But we don’t have time to get into that tonight.”
“But—”
Hal raises one hand to shut him up. He lifts the other hand to read the watch on his wrist. “You should all be heading home. My granddaughter and Mr. Wyatt have school tomorrow.”
“It’s not even eight yet,” Nola points out. She looks pale, but she’s trying to keep it together.
“Correct. Which means my favorite show is on in ten minutes.” Hal stands up. Point taken. The old man is clearly done talking to them.
“We can help with dishes—” Nola tries.
“I’ll be fine, young lady. My motor skills are still in working order.”
“Well, thanks for dinner,” Zack says as Hal turns away. Hal heads into the kitchen without answering.
“He’s just being stubborn,” mutters Nola. “Come on, we can at least bring stuff to the sink.”
Zack carries his dishes into the kitchen. Hal has turned his back to them. But Zack can see the old man’s face reflected in the kitchen’s glass wall. He watches as Hal undoes the top button of his shirt. There’s a small shape imprinted on the leathery skin, just below his collarbone. Zack squints at the reflection. He’s not close enough to be sure, but that shape looks familiar.
Yes. It’s the wheel: three thick spokes, just like Mrs. Halwin’s necklace, Nola’s earrings, Lamar’s ring.
Except Hal’s version isn’t a piece of jewelry. It must be a tattoo . . .
“Sir? Should these go straight into the dishwasher, or—?”
Weird Hal whips around. He covers the wheel shape with his hand, starts refastening the button. “Just set them on the counter by the sink. I told you I’d take care of everything.”
Chapter 5
Single-file, they take the narrow path down the side of Moray Hill. The sun is finally setting, blanketing the sky and water with neon colors.
“Can I ask you guys something?” Zack doesn’t wait for confirmation. “That wheel design on your jewelry. Does it, like, mean anything?”
“What a random question,” says Nola over her shoulder. “And no, I don’t think so. These earrings were my grandma’s. I’ve had them forever.”
“Yeah, same,” says Lamar, who’s in front. “My mom gave me this ring when I was practically a baby. I don’t really know anything about it. Except lately she wants me to wear it all the time. She and Li have matching tattoos on their shoulders with the same design.”
“I noticed that it’s a really popular design around here,” Zack says.
“Island pride, I guess.” Lamar shrugs. “Or tourism pride. Helps guests pick out us natives to ask for directions.”
“Your mom has a n
ecklace with it, Nola,” Zack says. “And your grandpa has a tattoo . . .”
“What?” Nola looks almost offended. “He does not have a tattoo. I would’ve noticed.”
“But I saw it tonight. Right here.” Zack touches the space below his collarbone. “Maybe he just got it recently.”
“That doesn’t seem like something he’d do.”
“Well, he’s full of surprises, isn’t he?” says Lamar.
Nola can’t exactly deny that. Zack decides to let this go for now. He can guess how she’s feeling. In the pit of his stomach, where all his worst thoughts live, he sometimes wonders what his dad isn’t sharing with him. Wonders why his dad holds back so much. Maybe his dad doesn’t trust him. Maybe he hasn’t earned his dad’s trust. They’re stupid thoughts. Zack doesn’t want to feed thoughts like that in Nola’s mind.
“Wow, look at that sunset,” he says, trying to change the subject.
“Chemicals in the atmosphere,” Nola points out. She’s obviously in a dark mood.
“Hey, at least it’s not radiation from a nuclear bomb,” Lamar replies. “I’m seriously still like—my mind is blown, man. A nuclear bomb went off right beneath our feet.”
“Not right beneath our feet,” says Nola dryly. “Thousands of feet underground.”
“But I never knew about it! I was born here—you were born here. Have you ever heard anyone talk about this?”
Nola’s in front of Zack, so he can’t see her expression. He suspects it’s a lot like her grandfather’s, though. “I—no. Not that I remember, anyway.”
“You would remember something like that!”
“Well, it must be a big government secret,” says Nola, a little defensively. “Grandpa’s probably not supposed to tell anyone about it.”
“But my stepmom seems to know about it. So it can’t be a complete secret.”
“Plus,” Zack adds, “Weird Hal didn’t have to tell us anything tonight. It’s not like we forced it out of him. He could’ve shut me down right away if the whole thing was classified information or something.”
Radioactive Page 2
