Virals(58)

Wolf: Need to meet. Today. Bunker. Not a word until then.

Fingers danced on both sides of me. Willing Mr. Edde to stay engrossed in his puzzle, I dropped my eyes.

Snowman: Too sick. Getting scared. May tell Mom.

Napoleon: No bathroom in the bunker. Problem.

I felt a prickle of irritation. Didn't they realize the source of the illness? We couldn't tell our parents. Not with Karsten watching.

My fingers flew across the screen.

Wolf: Must talk first, sick or not! In private. Bunker. After school. Super important.

Wolf: Say NOTHING! Not even to each other!

Mr. Edde lowered the front legs of his chair, a sure sign he was retiring the crossword. Conversation over.

I dropped my cell into my purse. Hi slipped his into his front pocket. I raised an eyebrow. Well?

Hi ran both hands through his hair, pretended to pull it out. Then nodded.

Shelton squirmed, frowned, dipped his chin curtly.

All aboard.

Now to get through the day. One class at a time.

A light breeze meandered the marina, carrying with it the scent of salt water, hydrangeas, and diesel fuel. On the harbor, sails flashed white in the afternoon sun.

The heat and humidity both hovered around ninety. Not a day for the great outdoors.

Upon boarding the shuttle, Hi and Shelton had headed straight for the semi-air-conditioned cabin. We hadn't talked since second period, wouldn't until we reached the privacy of the bunker.

Neither seemed happy, but they hadn't rebelled. Yet. I'd get an earful later, no question about that.

I chewed a thumbnail, repeatedly scanned the dock. Where was Ben? I hadn't seen him since biology. He'd missed both of the afternoon classes we shared.

Ben's continuing good health was my ace in the hole. If he succumbed, hello panic.

As if on cue, Ben came loping down the dock. Mr. Blue shoved off the second his son's shoes hit the deck.

"Welcome aboard, sir. Shall I show you to your cabin?"

Ignoring my joke, Ben dropped onto the stern bench, stretched his legs, and leaned back.

I waited. There was no rushing Ben.

Finally, he spoke. "I feel like three-day-old spit."

Crap.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything. My head hurts, my lungs, my feet, even my teeth. It makes no sense."

It made terrifying sense.

"And that's not the worst of it."

As he talked, Ben watched our wake vee back toward the city. Above it, gulls swooped and bobbed, anxious for scraps.

"My body's out of whack. I keep going in and out of some kind of trance.

"Yesterday, in my garage, my heart went apeshit, and I felt flames race through my veins. I started to fall, so I grabbed some metal shelving nailed to the wall."

Ben avoided my eyes. "My dad has an old Z28 engine he's using to restore a Camaro. Anyway, the shelving came loose and the engine started to fall on me."

Ben's eyes finally met mine. "That thing weighs a ton. I could've been killed."

"What happened?"

"I caught it." Disbelief. "The heat flashed, I reached up, and I caught the frickin' engine. I even placed it back on the shelf." Ben sounded as though he'd replayed the scene again and again in his mind.

"That's impossible, right?"

"No," I said gently. "I have a lot to tell you."





CHAPTER 42


Coop nipped my fingers, wanting to play. Not a good time. I'd just spilled my guts. About everything.

Well, almost.

"So that's what happened. At least, that's what I remember."

"You could see patterns on the fly's wings?" Shelton asked. "From across the house?"

"And a billion little lenses making up its eye."

"That beats my attack." Shelton's sport coat rested on his lap. I'd been afraid of losing the boys if they went inside to change. "My vision blurred, so I took my glasses off. Whammo: 20/20. For a few seconds, anyway."

"I felt normal until yesterday," Ben said. "Then it hit me like a freight train. No sonic hearing or super-smells, just weird cravings. Impulses. And my mind scrambles."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"At times, my limbs feel like they're on fire. When the burning fades, I'm strong, like I could blast through walls." He shook his head. "Then I throw up, pass out, it all goes bad."

"I'll take that over my symptoms," Hi said. "I can't leave the throne for more than a few minutes. And I must've fainted at least twenty times." He pointed at me. "You talk about smells? I got slammed while eating cream cheese. I'll never touch the stuff again."

Without question, Hi had been the sickest. He'd suffered every misery imaginable.

"It's like I was food-poisoned while suffering from malaria and poison ivy," Hi grumbled. "And brain fever. And get this. From my roof deck, I watched a mouse creep through the grass on the common. I could see his earwax from fifty yards out. Worst part was, I wanted to eat the little bugger." Hi rubbed his forehead. "Just for a second, though! I swear!"

"I understand. Raw hamburger, remember?" I shuddered. "And you saw me try to snatch Herbie."

Hi nodded.