Code(21)

“I’m taking Coop for a walk!”

Kit’s head popped from the kitchen. “Now?”

I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t ask more questions.

Kit didn’t disappoint. “Okay, but be back before dark. It’s a school night.”

“Promise, bye!”

Coop and I shot down the front stairs and beelined to the dock. I heard another door open, turned to see Shelton hurrying from his unit.

“I’m serious, Brennan.” Shelton had changed into white Nike gym shorts and a black Walking Dead hoodie. “My foot’s coming down. No more last-minute hijacks of my evenings.”


“Whatever you say.”

“Believe that.” He let the matter drop.

I didn’t take Shelton too seriously. Though none of them would ever admit it, I think the boys secretly liked me bossing them around. Most of the time. Every snake needs a head.

Hi and Ben were already aboard. We cast off, rounded Morris Island, and entered Charleston Harbor.

The evening was pleasantly warm. Seagulls rode the thermals high above our heads, mirroring Sewee’s progress as we passed Fort Sumter and headed toward downtown.

A tiny islet materialized just short of the peninsula. Low and rocky, its shore consisted of a dismal stretch of sand running a few hundred yards before melting into the waves. A weathered stone structure occupied a stretch of high ground at the island’s north end. Castle Pinckney.

What was left of it, anyway.

Loose stones littered the uneven ground. Whole trees grew from the crumbling mortar of the outer wall. Everything was soaked in pelican poop, and looked on the verge of collapse.

“What a dump,” Ben grunted as he eased the runabout closer to shore.

“How come no one ever restored it?” I asked. “Aren’t you Southerners crazy for preserving Civil War monuments?”

“I think you mean the War of Northern Aggression,” Hi deadpanned in a prim Southern voice. “When ruthless Union troops invaded our sacred homeland to rob poor Dixie of her freedom. Being from Boston, it’s mostly your people’s fault.”

My eyes rolled. “I lived in Westborough. All of New England isn’t Boston, like everyone down here thinks.”

“All Yankee towns are the same,” Hi said with a wink. “Nothing but factories and coal mines.”

I didn’t return fire. Hi was just messing around, and I tried to avoid reminiscing in public. Thoughts of my former home inevitably led to thoughts of Mom, and that often led to waterworks. Best friends or not, I hated when the guys saw me cry.

“Fixing up Pinckney has been proposed a dozen times, but the money’s never there.” Shelton hopped into the surf and began helping Ben ease Sewee closer to dry land. “It gets overshadowed by Sumter and the outer forts, even though it’s older.”

Ben dropped anchor a few yards off the seaweed-strewn beach. We slipped off our sneakers and waded ashore, re-shoed, then crossed a short patch of grass to the base of the ruins. Sighting a flock of roosting seagulls, Coop gave chase. The birds scattered, cawing in irritation.

The castle’s curtain wall was roughly twelve feet high and intermittently broken by rectangular openings that had once been windows. A single entry was cut into the center of the monolithic stone fa?ade, which curved away to either side, totaling perhaps seventy feet in diameter.

We studied the ancient fortress. It glowered back.

Shelton spoke first. “I’m not setting foot inside that house of cards.”

I pulled the Gamemaster’s clue from my pocket, hoping for inspiration. No such luck. The smile-like image remained indecipherable.

“Think.” A light breeze fluttered the page in my hand. “What are we missing?”

The wall loomed above us, empty windows spaced five yards apart like a row of black teeth. The castle seemed to scowl, like an evil, rotting jack-o’-lantern.

No, not scowling. The windows form a ghastly grin.

It hit me.

“Of course!” I waved the clue, used air quotes. “The ‘teeth’ in this picture match the windows!”

“Wow, you’re right!” Hi said. “Which means the snaggletooth must be—”

“The cache location!” I finished. “Come on!”

Moving clockwise along the wall, I counted openings to the left of the archway. Stopped at number five.

“Here.” I stood before a three-by-five gap. “This one corresponds with the outside rectangle in the sketch.”

Air wafted from within the castle, cool and dry. The window was a yawning, black pit that the pre-dusk sunlight failed to penetrate. Even straining, I could see only a few feet ahead.

“This section seems less run-down,” Hi observed.

“The stonework looks sturdier,” Shelton conceded, “but that doesn’t mean it’s safe to go in. This castle’s so old, the forest’s grown on top of it.”

Ben pushed the wall with both hands. Tugged the stones forming the windowsill. Kicked the fortification’s base. Pushed again. “Seems pretty solid.”

“Great work, Ben,” Hi deadpanned. “That oughta do it.”

“You have a better plan? Or should we run back home?”

“Actually, I do.” Hi dropped his head. A beat, then shivers wracked his body. He snorted. Coughed. Spit.