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.
“I can’t afford Bolton on my own, Tory. Not without the LIRI subsidy.”
The other Virals and I attended Bolton Preparatory Academy, Charleston’s oldest and most prestigious private school. Hoity-toity. Very expensive.
As an incentive to live and work so far from the city, CU picked up most of the tuition for parents working out on Loggerhead.
“Don’t worry.” Kit turned and locked eyes with me. “I saw some listings online that might work. I’ve already contacted a lab in Nova Scotia that needs a marine biologist.”
“Nova Scotia?” I stared, dumbfounded by the turn of events. “Canada? We’re moving to freaking Canada?”
“Nothing’s decided, I just thought—”
“Stop!” My hands flew to my ears. “Just stop.”
Too much.
Too fast.
I stormed past Kit, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.
Slammed the door.
My face hit my pillows seconds before the tears began to flow.
THE PITY PARTY was short.
I flew to my Mac, powered up, and had iFollow running in seconds.
I needed the other Virals. Now.
iFollow connects groups online. When users log in from a smartphone, the app will track the movements of all group members on a city map. The program also has file sharing and social networking functions. It rocks.
We still use it, despite everything. We need a way to locate everyone in a pinch. To watch each other’s backs.
I checked the map, posted a message, then switched to videoconference mode.
And waited.
Shelton popped onto my screen first, head bobbing, making me slightly queasy. A motor hummed in the background.
A check of the GPS confirmed my guess. A red orb indicated that Shelton was just off the coast of Morris Island, inching north. He’d activated face-to-face from his iPhone.
“Did you hear?” Shelton asked, voice panicky.
“Yes. Where are you?”
“On the shuttle.” His pitch climbed the scale. “Everyone at LIRI’s getting fired! My dad just told me.”
“I know. Kit said the same thing.”
My spirits sank through my shoes. I’d held a vague hope that Kit had somehow gotten it wrong. Overreacted. But Shelton confirmed the awful truth.
“What will we do?” Shelton tugged his earlobe, a nervous habit. “We’ll all have to move away.”
Before I could answer, my screen divided into thirds. Hi appeared on the left, framed by his bedroom walls. Huffing and sweaty, he’d clearly run to his computer.
“Oh crap. You guys know, too.” Wheeze. “Can you believe it?”
I shook my head, at a loss. I hadn’t felt this powerless in a long time. Not since Mom died.
“Did you get all the details?” Hi asked.
“What details?” I felt a new surge of worry.
“According to my dad, the problems run deeper than just CU’s operating budget. Apparently the whole state is broke. The legislature is trying to liquidate assets they’ve deemed nonessential.”
“What does that mean?” Shelton asked.
“The state may seize and sell Loggerhead Island. Developers have been salivating over those beaches for decades.”
“No!” I snapped. “They can’t!”
“They can,” Hi said. “My dad called a friend in Columbia who said a deal is in the works right now.”
“Don’t they have to vote on something like that?” Shelton asked. “Loggerhead is technically public property, right?”
Hi shook his head. “CU has title, and the legislature already has authorization to sell university assets. They can move forward with a sale any time they want.”
“Given all the bad publicity, the state kills two birds with one stone.” My fingers curled into fists. “PR bullshit.”
“It gets worse,” Hi said. “Morris Island may also be on the block.”
“No way.” I couldn’t believe it.
“Think about it,” Hi said. “Morris is even hotter real estate than Loggerhead. It’s closer, has a road, and is three times bigger.”
> “And since CU also holds title to Morris Island,” Shelton concluded, “it’s fair game too. That’s some slick dealing. Bastards.”
“They’ll build freaking condos over our bunker,” Hi grumbled. “So fat seniors from Hoboken can tan by the pool.”
“Goddamn it.”
Blasphemy, but right then, I didn’t care. My world—the new one I’d struggled so hard to create, to make work—was crumbling.
My computer screen restructured into four quadrants. Ben scowled from the sofa in his father’s rec room.
“You heard?” Shelton asked.
Ben nodded tightly.
“What about Whisper and her pack?” I said. “Or the sea turtles? Around five hundred rhesus monkeys live on Loggerhead. What about them?”
No one said a word.
The real-world answers were terrible.
Hi broke the silence. “Laws protect the turtles somewhat, but Whisper’s family isn’t really supposed to be there. The monkeys are worth big bucks. They could be sold to anyone, even medical research companies.”
Tears burned the back of my lids. I choked them off. Going to pieces would accomplish nothing.
“My parents say we’ll have to move,” Shelton said quietly. “They’re looking for new gigs right now.”
“Mine too,” Hi mumbled. “I hate change.”
I rolled my eyes. “Kit is looking at a job in Nova Scotia.”
“Canada?” Despite everything, Hi chuckled. “Have a good time, eh? Don’t fight with any moose. Meese. Whatever.”
“Shut up.” Against all expectation, I giggled. At least I had my friends.
For a while.
“We can’t let them split us up.” Ben’s first words.
His finger pointed at me from the screen. “You say we’re a family. A pack.” His arms folded across his chest. “A pack never gives up its own. Ever.”
I was surprised. Quite a speech for Ben.
“He’s right,” Hi said. “I can’t handle making new friends. Not my forte. Plus, where would I find new superpower-wielding mutants to argue with?”
“And let’s not forget the dangerous part,” Shelton added. “We don’t know what’s wrong with us, or what’s gonna happen. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t deal with this flaring thing solo.”
Bobbleheaded nod from Hi. “I’m not getting dissected like some lab rat. You guys are supposed to watch my back.”
Then, almost as one, the boys looked at their screens. Directly at me.
Huh? I was the youngest. The only girl. Why was I in charge?
No matter. I was in total agreement.
If I had to lead, then I would lead.
This seizure will not happen.
“We’re going to need a plan,” I said. “Fast.”
I’D FORGOTTEN MY French project.
The end-of-year presentation, worth a third of my grade. Due today, I’d done nothing. So I stood before the class, panicked, faking a speech I hadn’t prepared.
But I couldn’t think of a single word. It was as though I’d never heard the language. I fidgeted, miserable, searching for something, anything to say.
Je m’appelle Tory. Parlez-vous français?
How could I have been so careless? I’d never pass now. My entire transcript would be ruined. College. Grad school. Everything down the drain.
Giggles rippled through the audience. Smirks. Points. Muffled laughter. Confused, I glanced down.
I wore Mom’s old bathing suit, a ratty one-piece with a flimsy skirt stitched to the waist. It couldn’t have been more out of style. Or place.
Mortified, I tried to cover myself. With my hands, my book. My cheeks flamed.
Where are my clothes!?!
Classmates howled, pounded desks. Hiram. Shelton. Jason. Even Ben. In the back, Chance Claybourne stood beside Dr. Karsten, glaring with angry eyes.
Too much, I couldn’t take it. The door. The hall. Escape. I ran.
I rounded a corner into a dark, narrow corridor. A strange odor stopped me. It was musky, like wood chips and freshly turned earth. Confused, I scanned for the source.
Lockers lining the hall began to rattle. Doors bulged, gave way. Hundreds of chickens burst forth. Squawking and flapping, they milled at my feet. The noise was thunderous.
Where to run? What to do?
The mass of poultry pressed tightly. Beady eyes zeroed in on my throat.
Adrenaline arrived in buckets. And with it, something else.
A crimson streak split my vision. My brain expanded, then contracted to a point. I trembled uncontrollably.
Fur sprouted on my arms, my legs. My hands melted into paws.
Oh no! No no no no no!
Claws sprang from my fingers. A low growl spilled from deep in my throat.
The wolf was emerging.
This time, all the way.
A hand closed on my shoulder. Terrified, I spun, shoved blindly. The figure crashed to the floor.
Kit looked up at me with startled eyes. He wore a tuxedo, now a ruin of grease and feathers.
“Tory, I made breakfast!” he shouted.
I shook my head, uncomprehending, starting to hyperventilate.
He can see me! Kit sees what I really am!
I howled in dismay.
“Tory! Breakfast!”
I sat upright in bed. Kit’s voice echoed on my eardrums. I heard bacon frying, smelled burned toast.
Ah.
A dream. A terrible, f’ed up dream. I don’t even take French. Hablo español.
I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to wipe away the nightmare. Covered in sweat, lower back aching from tension, I felt more tired than when I’d gone to sleep.
“Tory! Get down here now!”
“Blargh.”
Slinging aside covers, I trudged to the bathroom. Brush. Swish. Spit. Comb. Morning ablutions completed, I plodded downstairs.
Shocker.
Kit had set the table. Placemats. Silverware. Napkins. Glasses of ice water and OJ. Plates heaped with eggs, bacon, sausage patties, and grits. He’d even filled a pitcher with milk and set it on ice.
Someone was clearly overcompensating.
“Well, well,” I said. “Is there a birthday I don’t know about?”
“Nope. Just time I started feeding my daughter properly. Toast will be ready in a minute. The first batch didn’t cooperate.”
Cooper was following Kit’s every move. Hopeful. He glanced over when I entered the kitchen and yapped once, but stayed rooted in place. The prospect of human food trumped my appearance.
“Sellout,” I muttered.
Coop kept his eyes on the prize.
“The mutt can spot a master chef when he sees one.” Kit dropped a piece of bacon to the floor. Tail wagging, Cooper devoured the offering.
I shook my head. No chance this would become routine. But hey, you know what they say about gift horses. I tucked in with gusto.
Thirty minutes later my stomach was full, and I barely remembered the nightmare.
“I’ll be at work all day,” Kit said, “but call me if you want to talk. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Sure.”
“I’m serious.” Kit forced eye contact. “I got an email this morning about another position, and this one’s in the U.S.”
“Progress.”
“It’s a bit farther away, but a much better job. Science adviser to a major fishery. Great pay.”
My eyebrows rose. “Farther? Where?”
“Dutch Harbor, Alaska. The online pictures are beautiful. Scenic. Rustic.”
My forehead hit the table. Struck a beat.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“They’ve got wolves there,” he added lamely.
“Alaska?” I sat back. “Now it’s Alaska?”
“Think of the adventure!” Kit smiled, but his eyes betrayed anxiety. “The Last Frontier!”
“Are you messing with me? Say yes.”
“Nothing’s sett
led yet, obviously. All I know is they liked my résumé.”
“How much would it take to keep LIRI operating?”
I’d given the problem some thought. Fundraisers? Donors? Surely something could be done.
Kit frowned. “Ten million, annually. Minimum.”
Ugh.
“There’s nothing we can do? No trustees to beg? Letters to write?”
Kit shook his head. “It’s just too much money. CU can solve its fiscal crisis and fix a PR disaster with one pen stroke. To them, it’s a no-brainer.”
Silence. Not much to say.
Kit grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Hand on the knob, he turned.
“Chin up, kiddo. We’ll land on our feet. You’ll see.”
With that, he was gone.
“Chin up, my ass.”
Coop padded over and nudged my palm. I scratched his ears, but even the wolfdog failed to brighten my mood.
Loggerhead Island was home to so many animals. Whisper, Polo, and Buster. The rhesus monkey troops. A centuries-old sea turtle colony. Hundreds of other species. Lives would be uprooted, possibly destroyed. All so the university could save a few bucks.
I thought of the LIRI scientists and staff. Everyone would get the ax. My friends and I would be scattered across the country. Our pack destroyed.
Enough.
We had to preserve LIRI. Had to save Loggerhead Island.
There was simply no other option.
Kit said it would take millions?
So what.
Time to find them.
Somewhere.
“HOW WOULD YOU like to make thousands of dollars, from the comfort of your very own living room?”
Hi read from note cards. He wore a white button-down shirt, navy clip-on tie, and tan slacks. Business casual. A quick glance at his audience, then he resumed his presentation.
“What about cash? Fabulous homes? Luxurious vacations?”
Hi searched the group for receptive faces. Found none.
“You can’t be serious,” Shelton groaned, eyes returning to his laptop. “I’d nearly hacked the Ben and Jerry’s website when you called. We could’ve been eating free Chunky Monkey right now. I’ve got to start all over.”