The edge of El Pliegue near Isla Roca, Puerto Rico
“What do you think that was about?” Aaron asked Carl.
“Probably some kid had his first taste of rum and didn't bother coming home last night. Rich parents think it's time to call in the National Guard. Something like that. You know how parents are these days. Don't let their kids play outside, think they're 'missing' if they are more than ten feet away,” Carl said, shaking his head.
“Yeah. I suppose,” Aaron agreed, still not convinced.
They were moving to the fourth buoy to get the last phone when the Grady boys had shown up. They moved to collect the fourth phone once they were out of sight of the tourists. “Shocker. Four for four,” Aaron said as he turned the fourth phone over in his hands looking for any signs of damage. “Screen comes on for this one though, still seems odd.”
“I figured 'corrosion' was a long shot. Whatever damage is done to these phones is going to be more subtle. The one with the dead screen is probably just defective hardware to begin with. We'll have to let the techs back at the lab figure out why they are dead.”
Aaron still had a sense that something was not exactly right with these phones. They were brand new when they put them out here, and now the three screens that worked seemed to have taken on an amber cast to the backlight. And he could swear that the plastic covers also appeared slightly yellowed. They were in totally mint condition, but they had somewhat of a patina. It just seemed strange. “Well let's get moving. We need to get back here with EMF meters and check the next theory, now that we have mostly ruled out corrosion.”
Carl fired the engine and gunned it for Isla Roca.