Seizure(7)

Kit was avoiding something, but I held my tongue.

The crossing was weird. Cooper sat beside me on Mr. Blue’s shuttle boat, his large head resting in my lap. Kit kept the conversation light, focused on trivial subjects.

So why the parental summons? By the time we reached Morris Island, I was on high alert.

A note about Christopher “Kit” Howard. He’s my biological father, but I call him by his nickname. Not Daddy, or Pappy, or Father, or Sir. We’ve known each other less than a year. For now, it feels like a good fit.

I came to reside with Kit nine months ago, after a drunk driver killed my mother. The shock of losing Mom had been doubled by meeting “Dad.” I’d barely had time to grieve before being shipped hundreds of miles to my new home.

Hello Carolina, good-bye Massachusetts. Whatever. I’d only lived there my whole life.

Kit and I are still figuring each other out. We’ve made progress, but there’s a long way to go.

“Home sweet home!” Kit stepped onto the dock and made a beeline for our front door. I followed, baffled. Home sweet home? Seriously?

Most of LIRI’s senior staff lives on Morris Island, in a row of townhomes owned by Charleston University. Constructed on the remains of Fort Wagner, an old Civil War fortification, our tiny community is the only modern structure for miles. The rest of the island is a nature preserve held in trust by CU for the state of South Carolina.

Morris Island is pretty far off the beaten track, even for Charleston. An outpost on the ass-edge of nowhere. I live in almost total isolation. Tough at first, but I’ve grown to love it.

“Come on, Coop.” I slapped my side. “Let’s get the news. Whatever it is.”

When I arrived, Kit was seated in the kitchen, toying with a napkin. His eyes met mine, darted away. Shooing Coop to his doggie bed, I took a chair at the table.

“You’re clearly uncomfortable,” I said. “Spill it.”

Kit opened his mouth. Closed it. Crumpled the napkin. Tossed it. Put his face in his hands. Rubbed his eyes. Looked up. Smiled.

“First of all, we’re going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” One hand made a chopping gesture. “At all.”

“Okay.” Now I was worried.

“There’s a chance, that maybe, possibly, I might …” Kit searched for words, “… lose my job.”

“What!?! Why?”

“Budget cuts.” Kit sounded miserable. “Charleston University may have to shut down the whole LIRI facility. Obviously, that would eliminate my position.”

Bad. Very bad.

“Close LIRI? Why would they do that?”

Kit sighed. “Where do I start? The institute is in turmoil. We’ve had no director since Dr. Karsten …” awkward pause, “… left. The press has been brutal. Rumors are flying about Karsten running unauthorized experiments, maybe taking corporate bribes.”

I sat bolt upright. That hit way too close to home.

“Unauthorized experiments?”

“They found a new lab in Building Six,” Kit continued, oblivious. “Secure. Unregistered. It had a ton of expensive equipment, but no records. Very strange. We have no idea what Karsten was doing.”

My heart went hummingbird. Parvovirus. Cooper. Our illness.

If anyone ever found out …

I clasped my hands below the table to hide the trembling.

Coop sensed my unease. He popped from his bed and padded to my side. I stroked his head absentmindedly.

Wrapped in his own private gloom, Kit didn’t notice my agitation.

“The recent publicity caught the eye of some environmental groups. Now they’re protesting the ‘monkey abuse’ on Loggerhead Island.”

“But that’s stupid!” For a moment, I forgot my own distress. “The monkeys aren’t abused; they aren’t even disturbed. It’s observational research.”

“Try telling them,” Kit said. “We offered a tour of LIRI to ease their concerns. No dice. They don’t seem worried about facts, or that these animals have no place else to go. They just want to scream, ‘monkeys in captivity!’ and shut us down.”

Kit leaned back and crossed his arms. “But that’s all secondary. Bottom line: CU lacks the funding to keep LIRI operating. The bad economy has gutted the budget.”

“How big is the shortfall?”

“Huge. The trustees have been told to make deep cuts, and LIRI is extremely expensive to run and to staff.”

“Tell them to close something else!” Sharp. I didn’t care. Dominoes were falling in my head. The inevitable conclusions terrified me.

Again, Kit avoided my eyes. “That’s not all.”

I waited.

“With LIRI closed, the university won’t keep these town-houses.” He waved an arm wearily. “We won’t be able to stay here.”

Ice traveled my spine. I didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

“We’ll have to move.” His shoulders tensed. “I’m sorry, but there’s no other way. There aren’t any jobs for me in the Charleston area. I’ve looked.”

“Move?” Barely whispered. It didn’t seem real.

Kit rose, crossed to the living room, and gazed out the bay window. Beyond the palm-tree-speckled common, waves lapped softly at the docks below. The tide was slowly rolling out.