Siren (14 page)

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My heart raced as I stood next to him, and I wasn't sure if it was because we were temporarily stranded in Camp Heroine in the middle of a thunderstorm, or because simply being near him felt different now.

"This wasn't in the forecast." Simon's eyes met mine. "The radar didn't show any sign of this system--here, or anywhere close to here."

"Storms don't move that fast, do they?"

"Not usually." He turned his gaze back to the rain. "But the frequency of these storms is increasing, and so is their strength. And the meteorologists are dumbfounded every time, because there's nothing to indicate their approach."

"Like when we went to Chione Cliffs? You checked the weather, and it said it was supposed to be clear?"

"Like then. And today, and every other time the sky has gone from blue to black without warning, like Mother Nature just hit the switch so no one can see the damage she's about to do. It's what I've been researching. Because the meteorologists don't get it. The National Weather Center doesn't get it. My professors don't get it. And by the time they do, there could be millions of dollars' worth of damage done. Towns could be devastated. More lives could be lost."

More lives.

"And it's not just an off summer?" I asked. "Another example of climate change throwing the planet out of whack?"

"I wish it was that easily explained. But these storms, as big as they are, are confined to a very specific area. The Pacific

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Northwest sits at about the same latitude as the upper Northeast, and their weather patterns are totally normal compared to other summers." He looked at me. "Remember how crazy the waves were when we saw Mark and his friends surfing? And the way the tides moved?"

I nodded.

"I think they're related--the hyperactive ocean and the storm systems. I don't know how or why, but I'm trying to find out. I've been traveling up and down the Maine coast, recording high and low tides, salt content, pH, hourly weather conditions--anything that might help piece together why this is happening where and when it is."

"That's a big project for one person."

He looked down. "Except I'm not just one person. Not anymore."

My cheeks warmed, as if the summer sun had broken through the blanket of clouds.

"And besides, I have to do it. I can't
not
do it." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "If this were any other summer, Justine would still be alive. If this were any other summer, Caleb wouldn't be running."

This clearly wasn't any other summer. And as the thin wooden walls shook and the rain roared even louder overhead, I began to think that Simon might be right.

"Do you hear that?" he asked a moment later.

I held my breath and listened. Outside, the wind and rain slowed, and the air grew still.

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The wind resumed first. As it whistled through the walls and shook what was left of the door, it felt colder, like the temperature outside had instantly plummeted thirty degrees.

The rain followed a few seconds later. At first, it was hard to hear over my throbbing heart, but then it fell faster, harder, shaking the ceiling like a herd of moose galloping across the roof. Soon, the noise was so overpowering, I braced for the church to rip from its foundation and spiral up and away with us inside.

"Is that hail?" I shouted as Simon grabbed my hand and led me away from the door.

He didn't answer. Reaching the back left corner of the room, he dropped to the floor and pulled me with him. The air grew so cold I could see my breath, and Simon took off his fleece, wrapped it around me, and held me close. It was the kind of protection any caring big brother would've offered in the same situation ... but I didn't feel like Simon's little sister. In fact, I thought that if he moved his face just an inch closer to mine, and if our lips accidentally brushed together, I probably wouldn't even notice the church flying from its foundation.

"I think that was the worst of it," he whispered a few minutes later.

I opened my eyes and lifted my head from his chest. The church still stood. Through the shredded door I could see water dripping from the trees instead of the sky. The air grew brighter and warmer as the sun shone through thinning clouds.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. Because we'd just survived

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a freak assault by Mother Nature, we still had to find Caleb ... and all I could think was that I didn't want to move.

"Are you cold? Hurt? Did anything fall on you?"

"No." I made myself pull away and climb to my feet. "Just a little rattled."

"Well," Simon said, standing, "that enormous cloud had a silver lining. If Caleb was here before the storm, he's still here now; he couldn't have gotten far with that going on."

I followed him outside. The military had apparently done something right when they built Camp Heroine. There was no physical evidence of what had just transpired besides a fresh layer of leaves and twigs blanketing the dirt path. The fake steeple still stood atop the fake church, and the rest of the buildings had survived just as well.

"Do you mind if I get a few measurements before we keep looking?" Simon asked. "It'll take three minutes, tops."

"Of course. Go ahead."

He looked like he was going to say something else, but then he turned and started down the bluff. I stayed close behind. The bluff was steep, but sandy instead of rocky, which made the trek fairly easy. When we made it to the beach, he pulled a small notebook and plastic case from his backpack and jogged to the water. The ocean hadn't recovered from the storm as quickly as the sky, and waves still pummeled the shore. Keeping an eye on Simon, I stayed near the bluff to avoid the spray.

He took several samples and scribbled in his notebook. Three minutes turned into five, and then seven and then nine.

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After ten minutes, I walked a few yards down the beach, turning every few feet to make sure he was still there and okay. Reaching a low group of rocks that would give me perfect views of him and the water, I stepped carefully across them and sat down.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head toward the sun. I had to get it together. A lot had happened and continued to happen, but that didn't mean I could just let it drag me out and pull me under. Whatever I was feeling for Simon was natural, considering how much time we were spending together in strange circumstances. I would feel the same way about a fireman who pulled me from a burning house, or a policeman who recovered my purse from a thief. The feelings would return to normal eventually.

I opened my eyes when the cool ocean water reached the toes of my sneakers--and keeping it together was no longer an option.

"Simon," I whispered.

I wanted to yell, to scream his name at the top of my lungs. I wanted to jump off the rocks, charge up the bluff, and get as far from Camp Heroine as possible.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do any of it. My entire body was frozen, as if encased by a thick block of hail.

"Simon," I tried again, my lips barely moving.
"Simon."

I don't know how he heard me, but he was by my side in seconds.

"Vanessa? What--"

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And then he froze, too.

A lifeless arm, attached to a lifeless body, stretched from the water toward the rocks. The body was facedown, but it was clear from the build that it was a man.

"Simon ...," I breathed, my eyes filling with tears. "It's not ...?"

"No," he said, his voice grim. "It's too big. And Caleb doesn't wear a watch."

My eyes managed to move from the purple hand to the swollen wrist, where a thick, silver band glinted in the sun like beach glass. A second later, a tall wave crashed onshore, sending the runoff streaming past the rocks--and the victim turning on his back.

I turned away, and Simon's arms were around me, pulling me off the rocks and away from the man. "What's wrong with him?" I whispered into his shoulder as tears ran down my cheeks. "What's wrong with his face?"

He tightened his arms around me and rested one hand on the back of my head to keep me from turning again and seeing anything more. "Let's go. We'll call the police from the car."

Simon didn't have to worry about my seeing anything more. I'd already seen too much. As police and ambulance sirens howled toward Camp Heroine, I slid down the passenger seat of the Subaru, closed my eyes, and thought of Mom, Dad, Justine, Paige, Zara, Betty's, the lake house--anyone and anything that would keep me from seeing it again.

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The man, whoever he was, was dead. Done. Gone. Washed up like a fish.

And when he turned over, his eyes were wide open and his mouth was stretched in a wide smile, like he was happy about it.

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CHAPTER 11

"I CAN'T BELIEVE you can just lie there like that."

I lifted my head to see Paige jogging toward me across the rocky shore. "It's eighty-two degrees.
Eighty-two
. That's ten degrees warmer than the last warmest day we had."

"Which is why you should be
swimming."
She spread a towel next to mine and dropped to the ground. "You can actually dry off outside without freezing."

I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. "I don't swim."

"What do you mean? Your family has a house in one of the East Coast's most beautiful waterfront vacation destinations. How could you not take advantage of Winter Harbor's greatest natural asset? The one thing--besides Betty's Chowder House, of course--that has drawn visitors here for decades?" Paige managed to mock the Lighthouse sales pitches, and me, in one go.

My right cheek grew warmer as I turned toward her. "Truthfully?"

"Please," she said, wringing out her hair. "On a day like today,

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the reason is going to be hard to believe no matter what."

I paused. Today, as in recent days, the truth included a lot of things I didn't feel like talking about. And not that I would've anyway, but after my Camp Heroine discovery three days before, I definitely wasn't jumping in the ocean anytime soon. It was probably better to tell her
something
than to let her come to her own conclusions.

Plus, she was Paige. I trusted her.

"I'm scared of the water," I said finally. "I wasn't always--up until a few years ago, the only thing I
wasn't
afraid of was the water. It didn't matter if I was in the ocean, Lake Kantaka, the school pool, wherever. I always felt comfortable ... safe even."

She stretched out on her towel and turned her head toward me. "So what happened?"

"On a cold June day two years ago, my family and I decided to have a picnic on Beacon Beach. There'd been a bad storm the day before, and the waves were huge." I closed my eyes briefly, picturing the blue sky, the green water, Big Poppa's hair growing frizzier in the salty spray. "And after lunch, my sister dared me to go in the water."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

I looked away. In my moment of partial honesty, I'd almost forgotten which things I wanted to keep private. "Later," I continued, hoping Paige wouldn't press, "she said she was kidding. But at the time, I thought she was serious. And there weren't--aren't--many things I hate more than disappointing her."

"I know what you mean," Paige said with a sigh.

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"So since my parents would've flipped, I said I was going for a walk. I headed down about a half a mile--close enough that they could see me, but far enough that they could mistake me for someone else if they weren't really looking." I shot up and scooted back when the cool runoff reached my feet. "It was a bad idea. As soon as the water hit my ankles, I knew it was a bad idea. But I did it anyway."

"Sisters,"
Paige groaned. "A blessing and a curse at the same time."

"Seriously," I said after a pause. I trusted Paige, but she didn't really need to know that pleasing Justine wasn't the main reason I let the water pull me in.

"There are no lifeguards at Beacon Beach," she said a minute later. "Did you make it out on your own?"

I focused on the water as my cheeks burned. "EMTs are pretty strong swimmers."

She shuddered. "Oh, Vanessa. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

I offered her a small smile. "Anyway, I haven't been swimming since. I still love the ocean, but it's just so
big
, you know? And it can change direction, gain momentum, and drag you toward the horizon without warning."

"Plus there's the issue of all the scary creatures lurking below." She tilted her face to the sun. "Before the accident, Grandma always said that she was more comfortable in the water than on land, and that if she didn't go in for at least an hour a day she felt mentally and physically off. Raina and Z