“You’re not as polite when my granddaughter isn’t around.”
“Neither are you, sir.”
Small upward tick of the mouth. “Fair enough. I assume you’re looking for answers.”
“Tell me about the bargain you made. Tell me about the curse.”
“Can’t. See, part of the bargain is that I can’t talk about the bargain.”
“So this was Fight Club forty years before Fight Club.”
“Right. But . . .” He holds up the object he took from the drawer. “I can give you this. I recorded it secretly. No one else knew.”
He places it in Zack’s hand. A clear plastic case, containing . . . “Is this a cassette tape?”
“Very good, young man. You’re better at tech history than you are at military history, I see.”
“What am I supposed to do with this? I don’t have a player thing.”
“You’re bright enough. You’ll figure something out. Now excuse me. I’m in the middle of a good mystery novel.”
Hal shuts the door and returns to his living room. Zack doesn’t move for a minute. He stands there holding the tape, watching as the old man sinks onto his couch. Hal doesn’t pick up a book. He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and puts his head in his hands.
Chapter 9
Zack spends the next three hours hunting for a cassette player. No luck at the music stores. Plenty of records, some CDs, but nothing in between. His only hope is the thrift shop. He texts his dad: Do the whale watching without me. I’ll meet you back at the B&B. No apology. No explanation.
Twenty minutes into his search of the thrift shop, Dad texts back. OK. Can we talk tonight?
So now Dad wants to talk. Since he’s always such a good listener.
Zack doesn’t reply.
At 3:07, in the thrift shop’s back room, at the bottom of a box that smells like rotting cats, he finds it: a cassette player. He pays for it, plus some batteries, and heads for the Haven Café.
***
The three of them sit at a corner table with their drinks. Lamar takes The Atlas of Cursed Places out of his backpack. “Here we go.” He flips to the back of the book, scans the index. Zack moves his cup holder up and down the length of the cup. It makes a sound that could be backup percussion for a band.
His phone buzzes. Another text from Dad. Zack ignores it.
“Got it.” Lamar turns to a map of the state of Washington. He points to a small skull-shaped icon off the northern coast, in the lowest section of the San Juan Islands.
“The skulls are cute,” says Zack dryly.
Lamar flips forward a few pages. “Wardwell Island. Full-page entry.” He reads aloud.
The curse of Wardwell Island is known as a dormant curse. It will be activated by the sixtieth anniversary of Project Pandora, an underground nuclear test that took place on April 17, 195—
“Skip to what the curse actually does,” says Nola.
His finger skims down a few paragraphs. “La de dah, stuff we already know . . . wait, this could be important. Holy mother . . . Listen.”
. . . The radioactive material from the bomb was not fully contained at the test site. Radiation immediately began to leak into the rocks and groundwater beyond the blast radius. Personnel overseeing the test became aware of the problem immediately. To contain the damage, they consulted an alchemist and “fixer” known as Talbot.
“What’s an alchemist?” asks Zack.
Nola’s already looking it up on her phone. “ ‘Alchemy: a form of science that was popular during the Middle Ages. Goals included changing the basic nature of materials, curing disease, and prolonging life.’ In other words, totally not a legit science.”
“Well, whatever this guy did must’ve worked,” says Lamar.
Talbot agreed to use his powers to keep the radiation trapped deep underground. In exchange, local authorities agreed to let Talbot remain on the island and conduct experiments of his choosing. These experiments will begin exactly sixty years after the Project Pandora explosion.
“Wait,” Nola cuts in. “This guy’s still alive? And he’s been on the island this whole time?”
Lamar shrugs. “Like I said. He seems to have mastered the alchemy thing. Maybe he can make himself invisible or live underground or something.”
Zack swallows hard. The building with the “radioactive” sign. “Actually, I think he’s probably on the east side of Moray Hill. There’s a building over there, on private property. I saw it today.”
Lamar and Nola stare at him. “I’ve never been over there,” Nola says, almost in disbelief. “I’ve lived here all my life. And I never wondered about that private property.”
“We never wondered about the symbol either,” Lamar reminds her. “Let’s blame it on the curse. Must’ve fogged up our minds or something. What did this building look like, Zack?”
“Super unfriendly.”
“Did you go inside?” asks Nola.
“No way. Even if I’d wanted to, there’s a pretty high-tech looking scanner on the door. And I’m guessing the windows are shatterproof.” Still, he feels as if he’s let them down. As if he should’ve pushed through the instinctive fear, the mental alarm bells. Maybe he can blame that on the curse too.
Lamar starts reading again.
Talbot vowed not to experiment on Wardwell residents. Instead he will use outsiders who visit the island. The nature of his plans for these outsiders is unknown.
Without realizing it, Zack has removed his cup holder and torn it to shreds. “The symbol. That’s what it’s for, I bet. To mark the residents. To set them apart from the outsiders.”
Lamar looks down at his ring, then back up at Zack. He looks horrified.
Nola, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to hear Zack at all. “How do we stop it?” she demands urgently. “How do we break the curse?”
Lamar throws up his hands. “It doesn’t say. The entry ends right there.”
Zack dives for his own backpack. Retrieves the tape and the player. Sets both on the table. “Maybe this will tell us.”
Chapter 10
The café is empty, but they keep the player’s volume low and lean in close. Just in case. A crackly voice reaches them from the depths of the ancient tape.
“Mr. Halwin, I’m sorry to be the bringer of bad news.”
“What’s going on, Commander Nish?” A young man’s voice. Hard to recognize. But the sharpness is the same.
“I’m afraid some radioactive material is leaking from the test site.”
“You said that wouldn’t happen.”
“We miscalculated.”
“How much radiation are we talking about?”
“Small levels. But enough to do great damage to this area over time. Possibly enough to sicken the population. Certainly enough to poison the soil and water. Which will harm local wildlife and eventually move up the food chain . . . ”
“I know how this works, Commander. I also know that you told us we didn’t have to worry about any of that.”
“I do regret what’s happened, Mr. Halwin. But we’re hoping . . . ”
Something catches inside the cassette player. The sound warps and dips, turns into a wordless jumble that reminds Zack of underwater whale noises.
“No no no,” says Nola under her breath. She presses the STOP button, then pops the player open. “Did we ruin it?”
Zack examines the tape. “It looks fine. I mean, the little brown ribbon part isn’t coming out of it. Isn’t that what messed-up cassettes look like in old movies?”
He suspects there isn’t anything physically wrong with the tape. The curse—and the “bargain” Weird Hal mentioned—is built on secrecy. It’s powerful enough that nobody on Wardwell Island can talk about it. Which means it’s probably also powerful enough to garble this recording. They try again. But the sound is still distorted. They can’t understand a word.
“Well, that wasn’t much help,” sighs Lamar. “Maybe we should go see Weird Hal again.
We might be able to pry something helpful out of him.”
“He says he can’t talk about it,” Zack says. “It’s built into the arrangement. Part of the curse, I guess.”
“Hal’s a smart guy. He must’ve figured out a loophole.”
“I think this tape was the loophole,” says Zack.
“Oh. Yeah. Good job, Hal.”
“Stop it!” snaps Nola. “It’s not my grandpa’s fault. None of this is his fault.”
“Look, I respect the guy, but he did make a deal with a crazy sorcerer dude,” Lamar points out.
“He didn’t have a choice! It was either that or let this island get blasted with radiation. The military and the government put him in this position. They messed up the test. They brought in Talbot. It’s their fault.”
“Okay, sure,” says Lamar. “I agree with you. But what good does that do us? It’s not like we can call up Big Brother and say ‘Yo, we’re cursed because of you. Please put together a curse-breaking task force.’ Remember what Zack found out about the other testing sites? Other places are leaking radiation, and the government’s doing nothing. Denies it’s even happening. To me, it looks like Weird Hal is more likely to actually help us.”
Zack takes the tape out of the player, turns it over in his hand. “Here’s another thought, though. The first part of this recording still works fine. And it proves that the military messed up. It proves there was a leak. The commander guy says it flat out. There’s nothing like that for the other test sites. No proof that the people in charge knew about the radiation at the time and admitted it was happening. If this got out—I mean, if it was in the news—think about it. The military and the government would have a lot of explaining to do. And maybe that would make them want to fix things. That’s what my dad’s website always tries to do. Embarrass powerful people so that they face up to what they’ve done, or take action. Let the truth push people into doing the right thing. If we get their attention, maybe they can at least contact Talbot, try to strike a new deal with him.”
Nola and Lamar look at each other. Slowly, Nola says, “Zack, would your dad publish something like this on his news site? A transcript of the conversation, maybe?”
“Uh—he might . . .”
“Then let’s show him the recording.”
The thought of bringing his dad into this—of asking Dad, again, to listen to him, really listen—makes his chest hurt. “I’m not sure he’d take it seriously. He gets approached with a lot of fake stories. He might think this is some kind of hoax.”
“But not if you’re the one who tells him about it, right?” says Lamar. “And maybe we can convince Weird Hal to confirm that it’s all real. Even if he can’t actually tell your dad anything. He could do one of those ‘blink once for no, blink twice for yes’ deals.”
He slides the cassette player across the table toward Zack.
Zack sweeps his shredded cup holder out of the way. “Okay,” he says reluctantly, “I’ll talk to my dad tonight. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”
“You think you have a tough job?” asks Nola, getting up from the table. “I’m about to go talk to my grandfather. And ask him how to break a curse that he helped start.”
Chapter 11
“Zack? Can I come in?”
Zack stares up at the ceiling of Room 4. Takes a deep breath. He might only get one shot at this. “Sure, Dad.” He hears the door open, then close. “Missed you at dinner. You got food with Nola and Lamar?”
“Yeah.” Zack sits up on the bed. “Listen . . .”
“About what happened earlier . . .”
“Yeah. I’d like to try to explain myself better.” He looks his dad in the eye. “Forget what I said about the disappearances. I was just being paranoid, probably. But the nuclear testing—that definitely happened. And I think it caused a lot more damage than anyone realizes. I . . . ”
He trails off. Because his dad has that look. The closed-off look he gets when he suspects someone is wasting his time. “Zack, you don’t have to come up with some wild conspiracy theory just to get my attention.”
Zack stiffens. “That’s not—I’m not—”
“I know I haven’t always been there for you the way I should be. I know I’m distracted a lot. But this is a little ridiculous.”
“Would you just—”
“I care about what’s going on with you. So let’s talk about that. Let’s drop this stuff about the nuclear testing.”
“I’m not making it up, Dad!”
But he’s clearly not getting through. “All right. I’m going to give you some more time to yourself. We’ll talk when you’re ready to talk seriously.”
Dad’s gone before Zack can fit in another word.
He’s failed. His dad will never even hear him out. Much less actually believe what he has to say.
He flops down on the bed and falls asleep instantly. His dreams are full of glass houses surrounded by sunset-colored radiation.
***
The next morning, Zack passes Room 3 on his way downstairs. The door’s open. Inside, a sheriff’s deputy is talking to Mr. Dyson.
In the dining room, the buffet has already been cleared away. It’s almost eleven. He’s overslept and missed breakfast. His dad texted him three hours ago. Knocked on your door. Sounds like you’re still asleep. Heading to the beach. Hope you can meet us there when you’re up.
He also has a text from Nola. Grandpa wasn’t home when I went over last night. He left a note saying he’d be back in a few days. Not sure where he went. Worried.
Zack texts Nola back. He probably didn’t get kidnapped by Talbot, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a local. He should be safe.
Even though Nola’s in class, she replies right away. I know. I just wish I knew where he is.
So Weird Hal isn’t around to offer curse-breaking tips. Which means they’re at a dead end . . .
“Zack!”
Dad charges into the room. He looks like his face has just been hit by a bus. Leah’s right behind him, pale and confused.
“Have you seen Ben?” Dad demands.
“What? No. Isn’t he with you?”
“He was, but—oh, no.” Dad clutches his head, shoots panicky glances around the room. Like maybe Ben is hiding behind a potted plant. “I turned around and he was just—gone. He’s not in the room. Mrs. Halwin hasn’t seen him. What if—”
He sinks down into the chair next to Zack. He’s shaking.
Zack has gone completely still.
Room 1, Room 3, Room 5. Talbot must like odd numbers.
His dad stares up at the ceiling. Maybe he’s seeing those radioactive symbols too.
The symbol. The sign. The sign on the building . . . “This is all my fault.” His father’s voice sounds blank, hollow.
“Dad, no. It’s not . . .”
“I should’ve been paying attention.”
Zack wonders what he’s supposed to say to that. Um, yeah?
But before he can respond at all, his dad starts crying. It’s almost more alarming than anything else that’s happened today. Zack has never seen his father cry. Leah puts a hand on Dad’s shoulder. He scoops her into a hug that will probably crack her ribs.
“I’ve let him down. I’ve let you all down. I’m so sorry . . .”
Zack stands up. “Dad, it’s—it’s going to be okay. We’ll find him. We’ll get him back.” He pulls out his phone. “Just stay here for now.” His dad doesn’t seem to register this through his sobs. Zack hesitates, then gives his dad’s shoulder a squeeze. “Leah, there’s a cassette player up in my room . . .”
“A what?”
“It’s the thing on the dresser. Go get it. Dad needs to listen to the tape. And then wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
Maybe.
He races outside. Lamar and Nola are at school, but he texts them anyway. Meet me on top of Moray Hill. NOW.
Chapter 12
Zack rubs his hand across the filthy window. Dirt and dust smear acr
oss his skin, but he still can’t see through. “Should’ve brought glass cleaner,” he mutters.
“I’m getting seriously creeped out by this building,” says Nola. “Which probably means it’s the right place.”
“Let’s get this over with,” says Lamar. “How do we get in?”
They walk over to the door. “Clearly Talbot’s made some upgrades since the fifties.”
Nola leans down and peers at the scanner. “Do you think this is a fingerprint reader, or . . . ?”
Her earring glints in the sunlight. Too brightly.
“Take off one of your earrings,” Zack says.
“Excuse me?”
“The symbol,” Zack tries to explain. “I think . . . just try holding your earring under the scanner.”
She tries it. The scanner beeps, and the door swings open a few inches.
“Whoa,” says Lamar. “You think that would work with anything? My ring? The tattoos?”
“If so, Talbot doesn’t have a very secure lair,” Nola observes.
“I’m not interested in his security methods. We need to find Ben.” Zack pushes the door all the way open.
He steps into a dark room draped in dust. It opens out into a hallway. The walls and floors are cracked and rotting. But what matters most is the door at the end of the hall. That’s where the light is coming from. A narrow outline of it, sneaking past the frame.
This time Lamar holds his ring under the door scanner. It works. They step into the brightly lit room beyond.
It’s a stairway. With stairs that only lead down.
“I hope this thing doesn’t go down six thousand feet,” says Lamar.
In fact, it only goes down one level. Now they’re in an enormous room that looks like a medical lab. In the middle is a long table filled with test-tube holders, different kinds of microscopes, containers with very long label stickers. The walls are lined with cabinets and shelving. More containers, more equipment.
Against the back wall are the chairs. At least twenty of them in a tight row. Similar to dentists’ chairs, but with more restraining devices attached. Three of the chairs are occupied.
A tan guy in his twenties is strapped into the first chair. Next to him is a slim, white-haired woman. And next to her is Ben.
Radioactive Page 4
