Virals(6)

Shelton Devers is short and skinny and wears thick, round glasses. His chocolate skin favors his African-American father, but his eyelids and cheekbones hint of his Japanese mother. Shelton's parents both work on Loggerhead Island, Nelson as the IT specialist, Lorelei as a veterinary technician.

"So wise to consult an expert." Shelton raised both arms. "Be at peace, brother Ben. I can save your boat."

A beat, then Shelton's mock-solemn expression morphed into a grin. Snorting laughter, Ben shoved to his feet, anxious to get to work.

No surprise that Ben wanted Shelton's help most. He's a whiz at anything with pieces, parts, or pixels. Shelton loves puzzles, ciphers, and anything with numbers. Computers, too. I guess you could call him our techno guru. It's what he calls himself.

Shelton's weakness? A fear of all things crawly. At his insistence, bug spray is kept in the bunker at all times. He won't win any athletic awards, either.

Ben and Shelton spread the manual and papers across the table. Soon they were bickering about the nature of the malfunction and how to fix it.

Who knows? If they hadn't repaired the boat, we wouldn't have gone to Loggerhead that afternoon. Perhaps none of this would have happened.

But we did.

And it did.





CHAPTER 4


"If you can't find the problem, just admit it." Ben's voice carried a sharp edge. "I don't want more damage."

I could tell Shelton was irked by Ben's lack of confidence. His body tensed. At least, the south half of it did. His head and shoulders were hidden inside the boat.

"I'm just running the possibilities, one at a time." Shelton's head re-appeared. "Relax, man. I'll figure it out." Clutching a schematic, Shelton dove back into the wires of the boat's electrical system. Ben loomed over him, arms crossed.

"Anything I can do to help?" I asked.

"No." Two voices, one reply.

Well then.

While Hi lounged in the bunker and Ben and Shelton argued over the boat, I sat on the beach. Out of the way.

In front of the clubhouse, a stone outcrop curves into the ocean, creating a small, hidden cove. The rocky spur protects the shoreline, conceals the boat and its tie-up from passing crafts, and, my favorite, isolates a cool little beach just five yards long.

I glanced at the narrow path ascending to our sanctuary. Even this close, the window was impossible to see. Uncanny.

Shelton says our bunker was part of a Civil War trench network known as Battery Gregg. Built to guard Charleston Harbor, much of the maze remains uncharted.

This place is ours. We must keep it secret.

Strident voices crashed my thoughts.

"Is the battery switch on?"

"Of course it's on. I smell gas--maybe the engine's flooded. Let's give it a minute to clear."

"No, no, no. Maybe the engine doesn't have enough gas. Pump the rubber ball."

"You can't be serious. Hey, make sure that silver toggle switch is pushed into the cowling or it'll never start."

Fed up, and feeling useless, I decided to rejoin Hi. No matter the heat outside, the bunker always stayed pleasantly cool. Halfway up the path I heard the outboard roar to life, followed by howls of delight from the amateur mechanics. I turned. Ben and Shelton were high-fiving madly, grinning like fools.

"Well done, genius squad," I said. "I'm impressed."

Parallel tough-guy nods. Man fix boat! Man be strong!

"What now?" I asked, hoping to divert the two from actually beating their chests.

"Let's take her out, make sure she's good," Ben offered. "Maybe run down to Clark Sound?"

Not a bad idea. Boating had been our original plan for the afternoon. Then I had a sudden thought.

"What about Loggerhead? Maybe we can locate the wolfdogs. The pack hasn't been spotted for days."

Confession. I am a canine fanatic. I love dogs, maybe more than humans. Heck, no maybe about it. After all, dogs don't gossip behind your back. Or try to embarrass you because you're the youngest in your grade. Or drive cars and get killed.

Dogs are honest. That's more than I can say for a lot of people.

"Why not?" Shelton replied. "I wouldn't mind seeing the monkeys."

Ben shrugged, less concerned with the destination than the journey.

"I can't believe you jokers fixed it." Hi was picking his way down to the beach.

"Believe it, clown. Too much brain power here to fail." Still pumped, Shelton threw another palm Ben's way.

"Oh, I'm sure." Hi stretched, yawned. "It was something highly technical, I suppose? Something requiring mechanical ability? Nothing as simple as tightening a wire or flipping a switch, right?"

Ben reddened. Shelton developed an interest in his sneakers.

Score one for Hi.

"You up for a run out to Loggerhead?" I asked.

"Let's do it. Monkeys are always funny. You pretty much can't go wrong with a monkey, right?" Hi paused. "Well, unless that monkey wants you dead, or does needle drugs or something. Then it's wrong, and a bad monkey."

Hi dropped into the boat, oblivious to our stares.

Minutes later we were skimming across the sea. I have to admit, it was wicked cool. Even for someone who spends as much time on boats as I do.