by C. W. Trisef
“Satellite imagery suggests a great disturbance in the waters of the Western Atlantic and Caribbean,” the NOAA’s National Hurricane Center said. “The water appears to be swirling, as if rushing to fill some vacant space.”
Jin Lee of the Japan Meteorological Agency agrees with this observation. He says a very large swath of what was thought to be the seafloor suddenly gave way to a massive empty space immediately below it. “In a very real sense,” says Lee, “there was a giant air bubble trapped under the earth’s crust, and something was triggered that popped it.”
The Russian Federal Space Agency claims the incident was not an earthquake at all but instead the impact of a meteorite from outer space. They assert this as a more logical explanation for the profound magnitude, absence of tsunamis, and sudden presence of a crater on the seafloor.
But the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) balks at this proposal. “A massive sinkhole may have appeared at the bottom of the ocean overnight,” said NASA engineer Vincent DeGraw, “but we’re pretty sure we would have noticed a meteorite the size of Texas hurtling towards us.”
“Well this is the most confusing article I’ve ever heard,” Ana said, rolling her eyes at all of the acronyms, statistics, and theories presented in the paper.
“Hold on,” Ret urged, “there’s more.”
“Oh, hooray.”
Despite the wide array of opinions, it may be quite some time before hands-on research can be conducted. The western Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea are closed to all naval and air transportation until further notice, including rescue crews and research teams. Even the Bahamas have been evacuated in anticipation of aftershocks.
Recent events have been of particular interest to scientists at the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA).
“Hey, that’s where Lionel works!” Ret pointed out with excitement.
“Is that right?” Ana asked, trying to sound interested.
Shortly after the incident, the United Nations (UN) approached the IAEA and asked for a status update on all of the nuclear reactors around the globe. Dr. Lionel Zarbock, the IAEA’s leading physicist, was chosen to deliver the oral report at the emergency UN council held just 48 hours after the Atlantic tremor. He told world leaders, “After thorough investigation, the IAEA is pleased to report that all of the world’s nuclear operations are secure following the quake that shook the world. However, based on global positioning data of reactors in and around the mid Atlantic region, my colleagues and I have reason to believe that the recent implosion in the ocean may have disrupted the regular movement of the earth’s tectonic plates.”
Despite Zarbock’s warning, however, the UN classified the issue as not immediately threatening and voted to examine it in the near future once more pressing issues have been addressed.
“What?” Ret said in disbelief. “How could they just dismiss Lionel like that?”
“He’s a physics nerd, not a plate guy…or whatever they’re called,” Ana suggested.
“Yeah, but still.” Ret refocused on the final words of the front-page story.
As the death toll rises daily, people around the world demand answers. Earthquake, meteorite, tectonic bubble—what really caused such a tragedy? The world may never know.
“Well, I know,” Ana asserted, “and I don’t have any degree or work for some fancy agency. We all know what really happened.”
“Do you think we should tell someone?” Ret wondered.
“No way, Jose!” she counseled. “Don’t you remember the last hour of our trip back here on the yacht? When Mr. Coy lectured us on not telling a soul about what happened?”
“Yeah,” Ret recalled, “and it doesn’t sound like Lionel has told anyone what actually happened either.”
“Besides,” continued Ana, “it would probably do more harm than good. Mom just got back from talking to the school board.”
“Why’d she do that?”
“You know Mom,” Ana explained with a sigh. “Ever since we got home, she’s been thinking of ways to get Principal Stone fired—expose his ‘real’ side. She hates the guy; you’d think he strapped her to the front of a speedboat or something.” Ana grinned. “She even said she’d rather home school us than send us back to any institution under his leadership. But I told her I’d rather go to school under the threat of death every day than suffer through home schooling.”
Ret shot her a glare as if to say, “Are you for real, girl?”
“Priorities, Ret,” she sighed, flinging her brown hair over her shoulder. “Priorities.”
“So how’d it go?” Ret inquired, curious as to the outcome of Pauline’s visit with the school board.
“Not so hot, from the little she told me,” said Ana. “She gave them all the dirt on Stone—how he planned the raid on our home, then tricked her, kidnapped her, and held her hostage. But when they asked for proof—even just a reason why Stone would do such awful things—Mom was speechless.”
“She didn’t say anything?” Ret said in awe.
“What would you have said?” Ana rebutted. “That her adopted son has enchanted scars on his hands that led us to an underwater road where we swam into the bowels of the earth and found a lost city that killed itself in a war over a clod of magic dirt?” She paused to take a breath. “Yeah, right. Next stop: loony farm.”
“Well it’s true, isn’t it?” Ret persisted.
“Of course it is, Ret,” Ana confirmed, “but that doesn’t mean it’s believable. Sometimes truth is harder to believe than fiction, and people don’t seem to like it as much as the fake stuff. Why do you think reality TV is so popular?”
Ret wasn’t following. His and Ana’s opposing perspectives on life were clashing yet again. “So what’s Pauline’s next move?” he inquired, trying to redirect the conversation. “Tell the police?”
“No, I think she’s done trying to sack Stone. When the board dismissed her, she said she wouldn’t leave until they told her why they wouldn’t even investigate her claims. So they said things like she’s still loopy from Jaret being gone, or she’s bitter from some romantic interest with Stone, or she’s just coming up with old wives’ tales to pass the time. Someone even asked if she had been drinking. Can you believe that? Pauline Cooper—drunk! Since when did the honorable name of Cooper go down the tubes in this town?” Ana’s face showed her frustration.
“Sounds to me like the school board is full of Stone loyalists,” Ret observed.
“Anyway, as soon as the board started questioning Mom’s mental stability, she got all fired up—you know, huffy. They had to call in security to escort her out.” Then, with slight pain in her face, Ana said, “She’s not taking it very well.”
Ret also ached for poor Pauline. There was nothing she wanted more than the happiness, success, and protection of her children. Yet, the more she tried to secure their safety, the more it appeared she contributed to their danger. It seemed an odd thing to Ret that a person’s efforts at fulfilling some personal desire could have the opposite effect—that so much pulling toward was actually pushing away; that a step forward was actually one backward. If that were the case, Ret reasoned, then the solution would be simple: just turn around.
“Hey, is that a picture of Quirk?” asked Ana, pointing to a photograph on the back of the newspaper. Ret turned the paper over and started to read the small paragraph under their former teacher’s portrait.
TYBEE SAYS GOODBYE TO ONE OF ITS OWN
TYBEE ISLAND—The Island has been fortunate so far, as none of the casualties from the recent tragedy in our Atlantic Ocean has been a Tybee native. But our luck has run out with the death of Ronald Quirk.
“Mr. Quirk is dead?” Ana blurted out incredulously.
Very little is known about Quirk. It has taken his passing for the community to learn just how mysterious a man he was. As Tybee High School’s World Geography teacher last year, the Times turned to Principal Lester W. Stone for his comments on this member of his staff.
“Ronald was a fine man who will surely be missed,” said Stone. When we asked questions pertaining to Quirk’s background, education, and family, Stone declined to answer, admitting he was too emotional and would discuss the matter at a later date.
“Stone was ‘too emotional’?” Ana repeated in disgust. “That doesn’t sound like Stone at all, that big ninny. What a liar.”
Stone did not say who would replace Quirk when classes resume this fall. Given the lack of knowledge concerning any relatives, the school board held a brief memorial yesterday in front of the school. No one attended.
“Ouch,” Ana cringed with a chuckle.
“Yeah, that hurts,” Ret agreed.
“Like I always say, you can tell a lot about a person by how many people come to their funeral.”
“When have you said that?” Ret challenged her with a playful smile. Ana stuck her tongue out at Ret.
Having finished the short obituary, Ret put down the newspaper. For several seconds, he stared at the picture of Mr. Quirk. It was the same one that was in the yearbook, and it captured the essence of Ronald Quirk to a tee: his glasses sat slanted on his crooked nose, with salt and pepper curls dangling at random from his head. The student body was stunned to find an actual picture of Mr. Quirk in the yearbook, fully expecting him never to give his consent to be photographed. But it seemed the flash of the camera provoked one of his eye spasms because, in the end, the Quirk that was captured had his entire left eye shut, left lip peaked, and left nostril flared. It almost draws all attention away from the Hawaiian tie-dye shirt he wore on picture day.
“I bet it was Stone,” Ret accused. “He killed Quirk. Or at least got rid of him.”
“Yeah,” Ana concurred. “Probably pushed him overboard or something. Hope he did the same to Bubba, that lousy putz. He ruined Winter Formal for everyone!”
As Ana continued to complain relative to her “priorities,” Ret’s mind wandered in contemplation of what lay ahead for him. What element wished to be collected next, and where would he find it? When would another scar illuminate on his hand—in a few days, weeks, or years? And what sort of scheme did Principal Stone have in store for him, now that his bumbling buddy Quirk was no longer alive to slow him down?
But Ret was not half so much concerned about Stone as he was about Lye. Even though he saw no feasible way that Lye could have survived the total demise of Sunken Earth, Ret was not so naïve as to think an ancient lord of his caliber could be defeated so easily. Yes, Ret felt Lye was still alive—somewhere, somehow. He could feel it in the night; sense it in the shadows. What else could explain the frightful, eerie chills that haunted Ret amidst such pervasive heat?
Chapter 2
Plan Z Backfires
Although it was still quite a few weeks until they would officially be high school sophomores, the start of the next academic year also marked the beginning of the girls’ volleyball season, and Ana and Paige were gearing up for the summer tryouts.
“Have I ever told you how convenient it is that your house has a huge gym inside of it?” Ana told Paige as they entered the southeast annex on the fourth floor of Coy Manor. It was almost every day now that they patronized the manor’s facilities in preparation for tryouts. In an effort to be versatile, they would spend the first half of their routine playing on a traditional wood-paneled court, then, at the touch of a button, remove the floor to uncover sand and finish their practice beach-style.
“You’re going down, girl,” Ana teased Paige as they each took one side of the court. Ana, coordinated and competitive, loved volleyball, and since she was taller than most other fifteen-year-old girls, she had a knack for the sport. Paige, on the other hand, pretended to possess the same enthusiasm, but it wasn’t exactly her favorite thing to do. True, she wasn’t very good, and she would be the first to admit it, but she knew how much it meant to Ana, so she was willing to be a warm body to return her friend’s serves.
“Nice bump,” Ana complimented Paige, who had impressed herself by her own hit, “but not as nice as this.” Ana spiked the ball into the sand on Paige’s side. Another point for Ana.
“Do you think there will be many people at tryouts?” Paige asked as she went to retrieve the ball. The thought of lots of people watching her play volleyball had been haunting Paige for weeks, her nervousness building daily.
“Are you kidding?” Ana replied. “The whole school will be there. Everyone’s dying to meet the new volleyball coach, Miss Carmen.” Ana sneered upon saying her name.
“What, is she a bad coach or something?” Paige wondered, sensing Ana’s scorn.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s all that and a bag of Doritos when it comes to coaching,” Ana said. “I heard she’s even on some professional volleyball team in Chile, wherever that is.” Ana sent another serve over the net. “That’s all fine and dandy, but all the guys can’t stop talking about how gorgeous she is—slim and tan, with that whole foreign-exotic vibe going on.” In her wrists, Paige could feel Ana’s contempt building with every fireball she was sending her way. “And I’m sure she gets plenty of looks in her skimpy volleyball uniform. I mean, how can anyone feel comfortable wearing such short shorts? I’m so glad you found these extra long ones for us, Paige.”
“Me, too. Is Ret still going to be there?”
“You know Ret,” said Ana, “he lives at the beach. Why? Are you worried Tybee’s new heartthrob might catch his eye?” She smiled slyly.
“I’m more worried he’ll see me make a fool of myself,” Paige fibbed, who was silently panicking over the probable flirtations of Miss Carmen.
As usual, the pair concluded their rigorous exercise by cooling off in one of the many bodies of water in the annex, whose multiple floors were more like terraces of varying heights within one massive room. On the top level, amid courts for volleyball, tennis, and basketball, sat the Olympic-sized swimming pool, one of whose sides came all the way to the edge of the floor where it spilled into raging rapids on their way down to the floor below. The second floor’s pelagic pool, situated between a soccer field and a baseball diamond with a gymnast’s paradise in one corner and a weightlifter’s in the other, was deep to accommodate scuba diving, and the waterslides at its edge led to the third level. This next tier was home to a body of water that was more so a lake than a pool, as it had to be spacious enough for waterskiing, wakeboarding, and other aquatic and boating activities. Around the perimeter of the lake lay a racetrack for cars, cyclists, or runners, while a handful of floating islands with putting greens and colorful flags proved a challenging golf course certainly full of mulligans. A perilous waterfall plunged from the lake to the bottom level’s fish-laden shallows, which licked the blades of a football field or zip-line landing or hang-gliding runway—or whatever purpose it happened to be serving. Not to mention walls made of rock for climbers, the annex contained the world’s recreational activities all in one convenient—albeit gargantuan—room. Nothing less for Coy Manor.
Little did Paige and Ana know, however, that the fake duck in the nearby pool was watching them intently. Besides serving as a floating chlorine dispenser, the mallard’s right eye had been replaced by a tiny camera, through which Mr. Coy was secretly peeking. To some, this behavior might seem creepy, but because it was Mr. Coy who was doing the creeping, it was quite normal.
“So that’s why they’ve taken such a liking to volleyball,” Coy whispered to himself as he overheard the girls’ conversation. “They’re preparing for tryouts—of course!” Then, upon hearing that Ret would be attending the tryouts, he said with glee, “I’d like to try out a few moves of my own.” He leapt for joy in his faraway observation room. “Aha!” he cheered, “Peeping Tom, you’ve done it again, my feathered friend,” he complimented the duck. “I don’t care what they say about you: I think you really are all that you’re quacked up to be.”
Even before his yacht taxied into the manor’s harbor, Mr. Coy was already focused on figuring out what element would be collected
next. He had loved the adventure to Sunken Earth, as exploring and trailblazing were among his favorite things to do. Plus, it had kept his mind off other things.
However, instead of trying to unravel the riddle and collect the clues on his own (which was utterly unsuccessful last time), Mr. Coy had learned to pay a little more attention to his three teenage acquaintances: Ana, Paige, and especially Ret. Ret had proved to be the quintessential piece to their success in procuring the earth element—an obvious fact that Mr. Coy would not soon forget.
And so, after several more days of patient surveillance, Mr. Coy learned of the precise time and place of these tryouts, where he intended to make his move.
* * * * *
“Welcome, one and all, to Tybee High School’s volleyball season kickoff,” the announcer’s voice bellowed from the modest grandstand on the sand. “As soon as everyone gathers in from their activities on the beach, we will introduce our new head coach,” which words were greeted by hearty cheers and whistles from all the listening guys, while the girls sighed and rolled their eyes. “Then we will proceed to tryouts, and please make sure to stick around afterwards for the barbecue and dessert.”
It seemed the scorching, mid-summer heat had kept no one away. As Ana predicted, nearly the entire school was in attendance, except for Principal Stone, whose absence might have been why everyone was so happy. Upon hearing the announcement that the kickoff was about to begin, the hordes of people made their way from the waves to the courts, seeking refuge under the many shady umbrellas.