SYLO (THE SYLO CHRONICLES) (14 page)

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.

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.”

He broke into a big smile and added, “Unless…”

Feit pulled a vial of the red crystals out of his pocket and held it up to me, shaking it temptingly.

“You can’t be serious,” I spat at him.

“It’s totally safe if you take it properly. Marty didn’t. But you’re smarter than that. What do you say? Don’t you want to be the one who gets the girl?”

I stood there, mesmerized, staring at the sparkling red substance. The dazzling glow that came from the crystals was almost…hypnotic. It was so tempting. Marty
had
overdosed; that much was obvious because Kent was fine. The Ruby could be used safely.
What harm would it do? Nobody would know. I could finally compete. I could make that catch. Without it, I didn’t stand a chance. It would be so simple. Just a little bit and things would be so different.

I started to reach for the vial when…

“No!”

Somebody knocked the vial out of Feit’s hand. I came to my senses to see that it was Tori. She stood with her legs apart and her fists clenched, facing off against Feit.

“Get out of here,” she ordered Feit. “Take that crap with you.”

Feit was momentarily thrown but recovered quickly and scooped up the vial. He backed off with a smile.

“Easy now,” he said calmly. “No need to get all worked up.”

“I’m going to the sheriff,” Tori threatened.

Feit stopped walking and gave her a curious look, as if he didn’t understand what she had said.

“The sheriff?” he said and laughed dismissively. “Let me know how that works out for you.” He looked at me and added, “It’s your call, Tucker. I’ll be around.”

Feit turned and strolled off, whistling as if we had just had a casual, friendly conversation.

My brain had locked. Too much had happened too quickly, not the least of which was the realization that I had actually considered taking the Ruby again.

“You’re welcome,” Tori said. “Now we’re even.”

“You know about it?” I asked, desperately trying to collect my thoughts.

Tori kicked at the ground, as if buying time to decide on how to answer.

“Would you have taken it?” she asked.

I had to think about that for a second.

“I don’t know,” was my honest answer. “I’m being publicly humiliated. Taking that stuff would be dangerous, and totally unethical, but man, it’s so tempting.”

Tori nodded as if to say she understood where I was coming from.

“But I think it killed Marty,” I added. “And maybe Mr. Nelson. That makes Feit a killer. I think that guy with the baseball bat took it too, and he nearly brained you. You’re right, we’ve got to tell the sheriff. This could be what SYLO is looking for.”

“But we need more than theories,” she said. “We need proof.”

“Fresh out of that,” I said.

Tori gave me a small smile. It was the first time I had ever seen her smile. I liked it.

“Come with me,” she ordered and strode toward the parking lot.

“What? Why?”

“You need to see something,” she said without breaking stride.

I followed obediently until we arrived at her motor scooter.

“You want me to get on that? With you?”

“Unless you want to run alongside,” she said.

The seat was barely big enough for two, but there didn’t seem to be much choice.

“What about helmets?” I asked.

“Do you have one?”

“No.”

“Then I guess you don’t wear one.”

I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and sat on the back of the seat. Tori turned the key and the engine whined to life.

“Hang on,” she said.

“To what?”

She hit the throttle and I barely had time to grab her around the waist. The bike wasn’t big, but it was fast. At least it seemed pretty fast as we hurdled along with no protection.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“I’m going to show you what a huge mistake I just kept you from making…and how we’re going to get SYLO off this island.”

I
decided not to ask her any more questions until we had arrived at wherever she was taking us. The whine of the scooter was too loud and besides, I wanted her to focus on not wrapping us around a tree. Tori liked to go fast and take sharp corners. It felt just shy of reckless but I didn’t want to sound like a weenie by complaining.

Our trip took us past the Oak Hills Country Club where we saw that it had been transformed into the SYLO base camp. Dad had a contract with Oak Hills, so I’d spent a lot of time there tending the clubhouse gardens and knew the layout pretty well. Flashing past, though, I barely recognized the place. There were dark green military-looking tents erected up and down the golf fairways. Some were small and looked to be where the soldiers slept while others were massive, circus-tent-sized structures. I also saw the tops of some wooden structures that were going up. That made me nervous. They may have been prefabricated quickie buildings but it gave the impression that they planned on being there for a while.

Humvees and Jeeps came and went. A helicopter swooped
overhead and skimmed the treetops before landing somewhere within. I caught a glimpse of a truck that had sprouted a dozen antennas, all pointed in different directions. The amount of equipment that had suddenly appeared on Pemberwick was incredible. The once-perfect golf course had a new personality. There had always been a tall ivy-covered wall surrounding the property but now with armed soldiers at every entrance, that wall had taken on a different, more ominous character. I saw the glint of silver razor wire peeking over the top as if another, more secure barricade had been erected within. This was now a secure military base. There would be no sneaking in to walk your dog or going for a run on the wide fairways as long as SYLO was there.

“I guess the members aren’t going to be playing a whole lot of golf for a while,” I said to Tori above the engine whine.

“So sad,” she replied with total sarcasm. “What’ll all those rich guys do with their time?”

“Seriously. I just hope my dad gets the contract to clean it up.”

Tori had probably never set foot inside the country club, I realized, unless it was to deliver a load of lobsters. Being so close to her, I caught the unmistakable scent of lemons. I couldn’t help but think that it was her way of masking who she really was. Was she ashamed? Or embarrassed? She said she hated Pemberwick, but was that because she hated being the daughter of a lobsterman? Or did she resent the “rich guys” who spent their days playing golf while her dad was out on the ocean pulling lobster traps? The more I learned about Tori Sleeper, the more I wanted to know.

We shot quickly out of town and sped along the winding Memagog Highway, which was a fancy name for the four-lane road that
circled the entire island. It was the same road that Quinn and I used for our midnight rides. Every so often the road dipped closer to the shore, where glimpses of the ocean could be caught through the trees. A few times I thought I saw a military ship moving far offshore, but it was hard to get a good look through the dense foliage. It was a sobering thought. Did the Navy have the island surrounded?

We passed a farm where I spotted a familiar structure that I’d seen a thousand times before and never gave a second thought to…until then.

“Silo,” I said aloud without thinking.

It was a tall red-and-white grain silo with a rounded dome that was used to store feed for a small herd of dairy cows. Was that what we were dealing with? Was SYLO doing the same with us? Storing us for some purpose other than what they would admit to? It was a silly thought that I shook off quickly. There was no sense in letting my mind spin to possibilities that didn’t make sense.

After fifteen minutes of butt-numbing, teeth-rattling travel, Tori turned off the highway onto an unpaved road that led toward the shore. The sandy road was packed enough so that we didn’t spin out, but I had to fight to keep my balance as we bounced over the washboard-like surface. Finally, we arrived at our destination: a house that sat on the edge of a quiet salt pond. The place was classic Pemberwick Island, with steel-gray shingles and a porch that wrapped around the three-story structure. There was a narrow yard in back covered with a checkerboard of grass and sand that definitely could have used my dad’s expert touch. Beyond the yard was the water. A dock was built out from the shore that led to a long float where
two lobster boats were tied up, bow to stern. It was a tidal pond, which meant the float would rise and fall with the tides.

A man was sitting on the float wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and a worn Sox cap, working on a lobster trap. The place was classic Maine, like you’d see on a postcard.

Tori got off the scooter and strode toward the house.

“Wait here,” she commanded. She climbed the porch and went right into the house.

I wasn’t about to sit there like some barnacle, so I got off the scooter, dropped my gym bag, and followed. The place was old, but well taken care of. Across from the house was a gray barn that was nearly as big as the house and just as weathered. The expanse between buildings was nothing but hard-packed sand with sprouts of sea grass poking through everywhere. I walked onto the porch but rather than knock on the door, I rounded the house on the porch until I was on the pond side.