Surrounded by Sharks (14 page)

Davey was wide-awake again. His nerves buzzed as his eyes scanned the water below him. He’d been riding the adrenaline-rush-to-crash wave all day, and what he had left filled his system. Both his body and his mind were starting to understand that he wouldn’t have to do this much longer, one way or the other. If they didn’t find him soon, there’d be nothing left to find.

The blacktips were up high now, their fins occasionally breaking the surface. Davey almost liked that. It made them easier to keep track of. With its old territory back, the blue had gone back to circling. The circle was tighter now. Everything was closer to the surface and closer to Davey. The blue’s aggression and the blacktips’ competitiveness had done that.

The little fish — the four silver-gray and the one bright blue — huddled tightly under the bottle now. Even they sensed the danger in the water.

Davey kicked his feet slowly underneath him. It helped keep him warm and alert. He was also using them as bait. He let them hang down into the water and moved them slowly back and forth. They were the most obvious targets for the sharks, and he didn’t try to fight that. He couldn’t watch the whole ocean, but he could watch his feet.

He was so focused on them that a new arrival nearly bumped into him. It was a jellyfish. Its pulpy head pushed to within a few inches of Davey’s left arm, which was wrapped around the bottle. He noticed it just in time and kicked himself a little off to the right.

He watched as the thing drifted past, its soft, ghostly head in front and the fine, stinging threads trailing behind. He’d never been stung by a jellyfish. He wondered if it would hurt more or less than a bee sting. But he didn’t let himself wonder for very long.

He quickly looked back down at his feet. Nothing. He checked the surface for black-edged fins. Not there. He peered through the bottle again. After a long, bad minute, the blue circled back into view. He located the blacktips a moment later.

He let himself relax, just a little. He had no way of knowing that a much larger animal had slipped into a wider orbit around this little aquatic menagerie. He wanted another look at that jellyfish. It was such a weird creature. The light passed through it. The tentacles moved like curtains in a summer breeze. It could be a creature in
The Lord of the Rings
, straight out of the Sundering Seas. He wondered if J. R. R. Tolkien had ever seen one. Did they have them in England? Or maybe when he was in the army, in the First World War?

He reluctantly took his eyes off it and went back to his grim watch. Thinking about Tolkien had opened something up in him, though. He was looking down into the water, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. He thought about home. He thought about seeing
The Hobbit
in the Cineplex and knowing before it was even over that he needed to read the books. All of them. He remembered his mom taking him to Joseph-Beth Booksellers and the haul of treasure he’d returned with.

And then he remembered taking that treasure and locking himself into his bedroom with it, as if he lived in the dark and doomed Mines of Moria. Why had he done that again? It seemed so dumb to him now. He had come to understand one thing very clearly during his time in the water: Being alone, truly alone — it sucked.

If I was home again
, he thought,
I would take the first book to the living room table and read them all through right there. Mom and Dad would be just through the archway in their office, and Brando would be over on the
—

“Ow!” he said.

He felt a sharp pain on the back of his leg.

The first thing he thought was that he’d lost track of the jellyfish and it had stung him. He looked down into the water behind him. He was blinded by a momentary glare on the surface. When it cleared, he knew he was wrong.

He saw two things. The first: a shape disappearing down and away. The second: a little red cloud, wafting up through the clear water.

It was blood, his own this time.

It felt good to be running. Drew and Brando had been tagging along behind their parents all day: asking permission, moving at the speed of grown-ups. Now they were ready to get a move on.

“This way,” said Drew, waving Brando over to the right.

“Where are we going?”

“The dock! That’s the last place I saw them.”

As soon as Brando knew where they were headed, he sped up. He passed Drew, but only for a moment.

“Oh no you don’t,” she called. She sped up and passed him back. She had longer legs, but was wearing flip-flops; he had shorter legs and sneakers. It was a pretty even race, and they were neck and neck when they reached the dock.

“Not here,” huffed Brando.

“Doesn’t look like it,” puffed Drew. The two launches bobbed on the little waves on either side of the dock. The last time she’d been here, the two men were in the larger one, using the radio. Both of them were empty now. The dock was deserted except for a family of three, sitting on their suitcases, waiting for the next boat.

“Should we ask ’em?” she said.

“You do it,” said Brando.

“You shy?” she said, and that did it. Brando marched right out onto the dock. She waited on the sand, catching her breath.

“They said they went that way,” he said, pointing down the walkway that led toward the far side of the island.

Drew nodded and then reached down and slipped off her flip-flops. Brando knew he was in trouble now. He took off running. For a good ten seconds, all he could see was the open path in front of him. Then he saw Drew coming into view out of the corner of his eye. He leaned forward and ran even harder, but it was no use. Once he saw the soles of her feet, he knew he had no chance. On the plus side: It took them no time at all to catch up with Bautista and Fulgham.

“There they are,” said Drew. She went from a run to a walk in the space of a few strides. Brando slammed on the brakes behind her and just avoided a collision.

Bautista and Fulgham were standing just off the walkway, looking out over the water. Now they looked over. Fulgham leaned in and whispered something to Bautista.

“Yes?” said Bautista.

After running flat out to find them, Drew and Brando suddenly realized that they had no idea what to say.

“Um,” said Brando.

Drew gave them a weak wave with the hand that wasn’t clutching her flip-flops. She felt a little dumb holding them, so she knelt down and put them back on.

“This isn’t really a good time,” said the deputy. That was putting it nicely. The island was too small and the boy had been gone for too long. The fact that they’d basically been chasing their own tails all day made it that much worse. “Do you have something to tell us?”

Drew pointed to Brando.

“Um,” he repeated.

“Something besides ‘um’?” said Fulgham.

Bautista was a little more patient. He’d just arrived, after all. “What’s your name?”

“Brando.”

“And you’re Davey’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

“And is there something you’d like to tell us?” He wasn’t, when it came right down to it, that much more patient.

“Um …”

Fulgham leaned over to say something else to Bautista. Before he could, Brando blurted out, “I knew Davey didn’t take the boat!”

Fulgham gave him a look somewhere between
Now you tell me
and
Thanks for throwing me under the bus
. But Bautista was more curious. “And how did you know that?” he said.

“Because he’s not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Davey, he doesn’t like, like, loud stuff.”

“No?”

“No. He, um, reads a lot, up in his room. Like a not-normal amount. And he took his book with him. His favorite one.”

“And he wouldn’t go to a busy place like Key West to read a book,” said Bautista.

It wasn’t really a question, so Brando didn’t answer. But Drew added, “And when I saw him, he was sitting under a tree and reading.”

“So he found a quiet spot here,” said Fulgham, the annoyance gone from his face.

“But then people start walking by,” said Bautista.

“And it’s not so quiet anymore,” said Fulgham. “So …”

“He goes to find somewhere that is.”

Bautista looked over at Brando and Drew. They both nodded:
Yes, exactly
.

“So, any ideas where he would find a place like that?” said Bautista.

“Whole island’s pretty quiet, especially at that hour,” said Fulgham.

“Yeah, but we’re talking alone-in-his-room quiet,” said Bautista. He turned to Brando. “You were all in the same room, right?”

“Yeah. He had the cot.” He wasn’t sure why he added that last part.

“Right, so he’s thirteen, crammed into a room with his whole family, wants some me time …”

“There’s a roof deck,” said Fulgham.

“I was up there, right after we got back,” said Drew. “He definitely wasn’t there.”

“Okay,” said Bautista, looking out at the band of sand between the walkway and the water. “What about the beach?”

“People there, too,” said Fulgham. “Morning walks on the beach … It’s a thing.”

“Right, right,” said Bautista. He’d forgotten about that; it wasn’t a thing in the Coast Guard.

Everyone was quiet for a few moments. The only sound came from the small waves and the gulls. Finally, Brando spoke up. “There’s a little beach,” he said.

“What do you mean?” said Bautista, but Fulgham already knew.

“Oooh yeah,” he said. “But you went there, right? Marco said —”

“Yeah,” admitted Brando. “We looked around a little.”

“And?”

Brando just shrugged.

“What are you … ?” said Bautista.

“Little beach, at the end of the island, kind of cut off,” Fulgham explained. “It’s definitely secluded. People can get a little carried away out there because —”

“Carried away?” said Bautista.

“I didn’t mean …”

Bautista looked over at Brando, then took another quick look over his shoulder at the water. “Think it’s worth a second look?”

Fulgham thought about it. It was a small beach, and it had already been searched. But searched by whom? An upset, untrained family and the hotel manager.

“Might as well,” he said.

Brando let out a long breath. Drew looked over at him. “I think this is good,” he said.

“Aces,” she replied.

They headed straight down the walkway. It wasn’t far, and in just a few minutes they’d navigated the narrow path and arrived on the little beach.

“This is nice,” said Drew.

Brando looked around. Everything was the same as this morning, except two ladies were sunbathing halfway down the sand. They looked up and saw two men in uniform and two kids in shorts.

“Is it okay to be here?” called one.

“There was no sign,” called the other. “Except for that.” She pointed to the sad little
NO SW MM NG
sign.

“No, no, you’re fine,” called the deputy.

The ladies dropped their heads and went back to catching rays. Bautista had missed the whole exchange. He was walking slowly across the sand and staring straight out at the water.

“Oh no,” he said.

“What?” said Fulgham, but then he saw it, too. “Son of a …”

“What?” said Brando. He looked out at the water, but all he saw was, well, water.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” said Bautista.

“No, I think it might be.”

Both men started jogging toward the water’s edge. Then they started running.

“What are they after?” said Drew.

“I don’t see anything,” said Brando.

“It’s not …” began Drew. She couldn’t bring herself to say
a body
, but Brando read the word in her silence.

“I don’t see anything!” he repeated.

They took off at a run, too. It was no race this time. There was a bad feeling in the air, like they’d already lost. They caught up with Bautista and Fulgham at the edge of the water.

“Well, I guess we know why that sign’s there,” said Bautista.

“It’s completely inadequate,” said Fulgham. “Gonna write about eight citations.”

“Make it a dozen,” said Bautista. Then he began to walk out into the breaking waves, shoes, long blue pants, and all.

“What’s he doing?” said Drew.

Brando had no idea, and then he saw it. The water was higher and the waves were bigger than they’d been that morning. The larger ones tucked themselves into neat little barrels as they broke. They were bigger everywhere, except where they weren’t. Where the rip current was cutting them down. Bautista waded diagonally into the stretch of flatter water off to their left. The waves hitting his knees there were little more than bumps on the surface.

Drew saw it now, too. She watched as he waded out a few more steps. He stood still there for a moment, then quickly turned and headed back toward shore. He was a big, strong man, but she could see he was working hard. He was powering his way to shore.

Fulgham saw it, too, and walked toward the water to give him a hand.

“Stay there!” Bautista said. He grimaced and pulled his legs forward through the shallow water.

“The sea is
pulling him
,” said Brando.

Drew could hear the horror in his voice.

A few more powerful steps and Bautista broke free.

“Something must’ve shifted out there,” said Fulgham. “Think there’s a sandbar. If it’d been this bad for long, someone would’ve noticed.”

“I’m afraid someone might’ve,” said Bautista. He pulled a blocky device from a sheath on his belt. He pressed a button and got static back. “Akers, you copy?” he said. Brando remembered the Coast Guard man in the hotel office.

The big walkie-talkie crackled. “Yes, sir. This is Akers, over.”

“Yeah, I need you to get down to the boat and patch me through to Marathon, ASAP.”

“Now, sir?”

“Yes, now. Get it!”

“Roger that, sir. I’m gone!”

He turned to Brando and Drew. “Which one of you is the fastest runner?”

Brando pointed to Drew. It didn’t hurt his feelings or wound his pride. He was glad she was so fast. Right now, he wished she had wings.

She reached down and slipped off her flip-flops.

“Get back to the hotel and get everyone off those phones and back here. Lead them straight here, to this beach, yourself. I don’t want any more confusion today. I don’t want any more wrong turns.”

He cast his gaze around the edges of the beach. “We’re going to turn this place upside down,” he added, but Drew was already gone.