The Mystery of Croaker's Island

by Linda DeMeulemeester

  After the class was over, Owen once again mentioned to Blake that he should check the receiver on Blake’s laptop. Khallie glowered at Blake, and he swallowed, saying, “Sure, Owen, how about Saturday night?”

  “But that’s the opening of the fall fair,” said Khallie. “Blake, Owen, why don’t you come with? Sam’s coming.” She shot Sam a heart-melting smile, making Sam nod like a bobble-head even though his face flushed when Blake muttered something about how lame it would be.

  “I’ll come with you guys,” Owen said eagerly. “And if you go too, Blake, I can come by your house and check the transmitter.”

  “I’m not going to some stupid . . . ” Blake began.

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Evans said nervously. Blake’s mother and father had come into the observatory. “What a great evening out.”

  “No way,” said Blake.

  “It’s time, son,” said Mr. Evans. “You’ve stayed home long enough.” Blake stopped arguing, but anger settled over his features.

  “Is your other son coming?” asked Dory, who had followed in behind the Evanses. “We can bring our little sister and make it a lovely family event.” Her Australian accent grew thicker and her voice sweeter than Babcia’s blackberry syrup.

  “That sounds nice,” said Mrs. Evans. “Would you like that, Blake, to have your brother take you around?”

  Sam ushered Khallie and Owen out of the observatory before Blake answered. He could tell Blake was upset. Not to mention, Sam had a bad feeling about the carnival because if Dory got near Colton, they’d either click or not. Either way, she wouldn’t need Sam anymore and he’d be powerless once again. He couldn’t let that happen. Maybe Khallie could help him keep those two apart.

  “Hey, do you want a ride home?” Sam asked, remembering how last time he’d seen Khallie standing at the bus stop.

  “Thanks, but my parents are picking me up,” she said with a smile.

  But when Sam and Dory drove past the bus stop, he spotted several new missing cat posters . . . and . . . Khallie boarding a bus. It was past 9:00. What were her super-strict parents thinking?

  And Sam noticed for the first time that it wasn’t even the bus that went through Khallie’s upscale neighbourhood. She’d boarded the bus for the coastal road . . .

  × 13 ×

  ONLY TO STEP INTO A CALAMITY

  SAM HELD MOLLY’S hand as they crossed the gravel parking lot at the fall fair and stepped through the admission gate. A calliope piping out a version of “Fifteen Men on a Dead Man’s Chest” drifted from the carousel. Instead of merry-go-rounds with painted ponies, there were bobbing parrots and boats. Skull-and-crossbone banners festooned the tents and lamp posts. Lanterns swayed in the constant sea breeze, lighting the night sky, and the tantalizing smell of sugar-spun candy floss made Sam’s mouth water. Molly’s eyes opened as wide as saucers as she took in the colourful fair.

  “OMG. I saw him, Sam, and he’s even hotter than his picture.” Dory burst through the gate. “I think he even winked at me, but he turned a corner and disappeared.”

  “Who?” Sam said as if he couldn’t care less, but he knew, and he immediately felt a knot in his stomach. He couldn’t let those two cross paths.

  “Sammy, I want to ride on a parrot,” Molly chirped up. “And then a boat. And then I want to play the fishing pond game, and then I want . . . ”

  “Colton, you doofus. Quick, introduce me, because I didn’t see Mrs. Evans with him. Or that poor kid in the wheelchair.”

  “Blake. His name is Blake,” Sam said through gritted teeth.

  “Sammy, I want to ride the parrot.” Molly tugged his arm.

  “First you want Sammy leading us to the Evanses, right,” Dory said pointedly.

  “I don’t see them.” Sam swept his eyes over the fair. So far he hadn’t seen any of his friends, which was a good thing as long as Dory was in tow.

  “C’mon,” insisted Molly as she glared at Dory. “I don’t care about meeting any Evanses.”

  “Why didn’t you set up a meeting place with your friends?” Dory put her hands on her hips. “That’s sort of a no-brainer, don’t you think?”

  Not when you’re trying to avoid people, Sam thought to himself.

  “Parrot,” said Molly, tugging Sam’s hand.

  “Dory, I’m glad you came!” shouted Gina, as she hurried past the gate and joined them. “I was supposed to meet Angel Chan outside, but she didn’t show and I already paid for my ticket.” Gina pouted. “I was hoping to run into Dane as well, but he’s also a no-show.”

  “Parrot.” Molly tugged harder.

  “Well, no point in hanging around here,” Dory said, giving Sam a look of menace. She said to Gina, “I’m supposed to be looking like I’m at a family event, so just in case, Molly, I’ll take you to the carousel while Sam searches for his friends. Right?” She narrowed her eyes at Sam until her demon eyebrows almost met.

  Dory grabbed Molly’s hand, and as they walked away, Molly gave Sam a beseeching look. Sam shrugged his shoulders and then strolled along the fairway for quite a while, crisscrossing in and out of the booths and tents on the grounds. The fall fair was crowded with townspeople, but he hadn’t met up with either of his friends. He spotted Andy and Ravi at the game tent, tossing balls and knocking down pins. Beside Andy, Andrea carried a giant stuffed turtle and shouted, “Win me the pirate’s chest!”

  When Sam walked by them she glanced at him curiously, as Ravi leaned over and said to her, “Yeah, I heard he’s been hanging out at Blake’s.”

  “Want to join us?” asked Andrea.

  Sam was confused. Had he suddenly become visible? Maybe she liked Babcia’s latest sweater creation? He looked down at his striped sweater—nope, not likely. He shook his head. “Ah, maybe later.” He wanted to find Khallie and Blake.

  As Sam passed the hot dog stand, his stomach growled even though Babcia had made them eat dinner so they wouldn’t stuff themselves with sulphites and sodium. He turned a corner and ran straight into Owen.

  Owen’s bag of popcorn tumbled to the ground, liberating the white puffed kernels onto the sawdust fairway. “Oops, sorry. I had my eyes closed. Hi, Sam.”

  “And why did you have your eyes closed?” Sam stooped to pick up the empty bag and hand it back to Owen.

  Owen flushed. “I, uh, I was visualizing the spectrograms on Blake’s laptop.”

  “There have been more echoes?” Sam’s voice squeaked in excitement. His voice had been doing that lately, and it was annoying. Deliberately lowering his tone, he said, “I mean, are you talking about new echoes?”

  “Yeah, a bunch of new echoes. I think they’re slowdowns. What if you’re right, Sam? What if they’re echoes of a secret military project?”

  “Not so loud . . . ” Sam warned, but Owen wasn’t listening and his eyes were closed again.

  Owen shook his head. “You see, the echoes are only appearing on the transmitter I rigged. I’m thinking maybe we’re the only ones picking up the signals because nobody knows about our hydrophone. I checked the audio feed from the Ocean Institute and it shows only static. It’s like someone’s blocking the transmissions from the other hydrophones and trying to keep the echoes a secret.”

  Sam got a weird flashback of Professor Marigold going into the Ocean Institute when it was closed up for the night.

  “So that’s why I think it’s a secret weapon and not giant squids. If it was giant squids, the press would be all over that.”

  Sam noticed that Andy, Andrea, and Ravi had stopped talking and were looking their way. “Owen, shh. I’m begging you.”

  But Owen was so focused, he didn’t notice anything or anyone else. “The echoes always spike in the evening at the same time, and the echoes are super sharp, so like I said, it can’t be a giant squid or even a bunch of giant squids. But Blake isn’t wrong. Those aren’t phantom echoes, they’re the real thing.”

  “Ooh, ghostly echoes? I bet it’s not giant squids coming to shore to eat our town,” A
ndy said sarcastically. “I think it’s Godzilla. His footsteps would make a pretty loud noise.”

  Andrea and Ravi burst out laughing.

  Blake had been right—they couldn’t be blabbing this around for all sorts of reasons. The biggest reason right now was not to be a laughing stock. Sam grabbed Owen’s arm and dragged him farther down the fairway.

  “Owen, we can’t let other people know what we’re doing until we have more information.”

  Finally Owen stopped babbling. He looked at Sam’s exasperated expression. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “I’ve been all over the fairground and your friends aren’t here.” Dory and Gina stepped from the shadows with Molly in tow.

  “My stomach hurts,” complained Molly. She leaned over and barfed a rainbow all over Dory’s shoes.

  “Gross!” Dory gagged.

  Gina stared at Dory’s vomit-splattered shoes. “I told you not to let her eat two hot dogs and blue candy floss and drink an orange pop before riding the Scrambler.”

  “Eew, eew, eew.” Dory poured her own soft drink over her shoes, trying to rinse them off.

  “I don’t feel good,” whimpered Molly.

  “We’re out of here,” Dory said to Molly. “And you’d better lean out the window all the way home. No puking in my car.”

  “You’re not used to little kids, are you?” said Gina.

  Molly clutched her stomach as Dory kicked off her own shoes. Owen dumped the last of his popcorn and handed her his empty popcorn bag which she then used to pick up her shoes. She stood in her bare feet for a moment, wiggling her toes in the sawdust and frowning. Then she stomped off.

  “This night has been a bust,” said Gina, before following Dory and Molly out of the fairground.

  Sam stared after them. “I’d better go too, if I want a ride.”

  “I can take you back,” volunteered Owen. “My parents are picking me up later in the parking lot.”

  “Right, you already went to Blake’s. I thought he was supposed to come to the carnival,” said Sam.

  Owen shook his head. “He refused and his parents didn’t make him. And Khallie didn’t come by like she said she would.” Owen gave Sam a serious stare. “Have you noticed no one makes Blake do anything he doesn’t want to except for Khallie? She doesn’t let him off the hook.”

  Owen was right. “What happened to Khallie?” asked Sam. “She was looking forward to the fair. This was her idea.”

  Owen shrugged. “She was going to meet with us first. Blake figured her parents didn’t allow her.” He leaned over and whispered, “People say they don’t allow her to do a lot of stuff.”

  Except take buses down random roads late at night . . . unless she got grounded for doing just that. Sam hoped everything was all right. He and Owen lingered a while longer and tried a few video games at the arcade section of the fair, but his heart wasn’t in it. Gina was right. This evening had been a bust.

  After Owen’s parents kindly drove out of their way to drop Sam off, he waved goodbye and headed inside his house . . .

  Only to step into a calamity.

  Every cupboard and closet had been opened and the entire contents scattered on the floor. Molly was howling for her cat, and Babcia and even Dory were trying to calm her down.

  “What happened?” Sam stared at the disarray of brooms and coats and pots.

  “Pix is missing!” Tears streamed down Molly’s face.

  “I’m sure he just went outside for a little walk,” soothed Babcia.

  “He’s probably hiding under the couch laughing at us,” grouched Dory.

  “No. No. No. He’s gone,” Molly gulped between sobs. “I forgot to close my bedroom window, and those people came and called for him.”

  Molly wiped her glistening eyes and stared straight at Sam. “I think they’re the zombie people.” Then she began wailing again.

  × 14 ×

  RACING AGAINST TIME

  MOLLY STAYED UP half the night, repeatedly opening the back door and calling for her lost cat. Then she’d sob when Pix didn’t appear. Reassurances from Sam and Babcia that there was no such thing as zombie people who stole cats couldn’t calm her. When Molly became so exhausted that she collapsed onto the couch in a miserable whimpering heap, she finally fell asleep, and then Babcia carried her to bed.

  “Zombie people stole her cat. Jeez, what an annoying imagination.” Dory shot Sam a scowl as if that was somehow his fault. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Still, something might have got her stupid cat, poor kid.” Then, sighing heavily, Dory dragged her chair from the table, walked to the back door, and opened it one more time. Chilly night air crept in. She softly called, “Pix, please come home, you silly thing. Please.”

  Sam was half-frozen by the time she came back in; shaking her head, Dory shrugged her shoulders and went to bed.

  Sam went to his room too, but he only lay on his bed and waited there until everyone else was fast asleep. He didn’t have to wait long. Babcia and Dory had been falling-down drowsy. Sam, on the other hand, was as alert as if he’d drunk a bucket of power drinks.

  Sam knew there was no such thing as zombie people luring cats away, but he had an idea about what might have happened to Pix. He never did have the chance to mention to his friends the tangled nest of cat collars he’d seen on Croaker’s Island when he was running away from Sinistrus Mansion.

  Quietly, Sam slipped out of his bed and put on his jacket. Changing into his pajamas had never been an option. He crept out the back door, went to the garage, and got out his bicycle. Once he’d ridden down the bluff, he switched on the bike’s headlight and made his way to Blake’s.

  Sam rode on a hunch and a shaky plan A. There was no plan B.

  When Sam reached Blake’s house, he stashed his bike beside the hedge and looked up at the night sky. Stars glittered in the cool night air. He spotted the pinprick of red that was Mars. There hadn’t been that many clear nights since Sam had moved here. His hunch was that Blake wouldn’t let the opportunity of a brilliant night sky slip away. He rounded the side of the house and stood by the stairs that led up to the Evanses’ sprawling deck, which reached over the cliff. Sure enough, he spotted a blond head glued to the lens of a telescope.

  “Blake,” Sam rasped, trying to whisper loudly. “Blake.”

  If he called any louder he’d wake the whole family. Sam grabbed a handful of small rocks and threw them on the deck. Blake’s head turned. Then his head moved from the telescope, and Sam could hear something roll across the deck.

  “Blake,” he rasped once more. “It’s Sam.”

  Blake peered over the gate of the deck. “Come on up.”

  Sam climbed the stairs, and Blake opened the gate. Sam leaned forward, trying not to stand over Blake. This was the first time Sam had seen him in his wheelchair. It’s not much different than sitting in a regular chair, Sam thought, only more convenient for him.

  “This better be good,” Blake said.

  Sam launched into the woeful tale of Molly’s missing cat, and how she thought her cat had strange friends who lured him away. Then he told Blake about the cat collars he’d spotted on Croaker’s Island.

  “There’s no way zombies stole your sister’s cat.”

  “Kind of goes without saying,” agreed Sam. “But someone is bringing all those missing cats to the island, and I think Pix might have met the same diabolical fate.” Sam punched his fists together.

  “I’ve never believed that the island is haunted,” Blake added thoughtfully. “Or at least, I mean, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders. He was more the type to believe in undiscovered sea monsters or super-secret conspiracies than mumbo-jumbo supernatural stuff. “But . . . ”

  “Yeah, I know,” Blake cut in. “When it comes down to Croaker’s Island, there’s always a but.”

  “And if Molly’s cat has been taken there,” Sam half-whispered, “I can’t leave him another minute.”

  “Why did you come
here?” Blake stared at Sam expectantly.

  “I need your boat. I have to row to the island and find Pix.” Those words came easily, but Sam’s heart hammered out each one.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Blake rolled back and forth in his chair. “You can’t navigate those waters, at least not yet. And how would you search the island on your own?”

  Sam couldn’t think of details right now. He just knew he had to get to that island and save Molly’s cat. He hadn’t seen any live cats on Croaker’s Island—only empty cat collars. Waiting even a few hours meant Pix would become the latest cat poster on the street. He shrugged. “I don’t have a plan B.”

  “Wait here a sec,” said Blake, and he rolled to the sliding door, opened it, and went inside the house. Sam noticed for the first time that a small ramp had been built so Blake could easily roll in and out, not to mention an outdoor elevator against the back of the house.

  Sam shivered as he waited on the deck, afraid to leave the shadows in case one of the Evanses looked out a window. He gazed up at the sky and spotted Orion’s Belt. This would have been a great night if he’d only stayed home and set up his own telescope for stargazing. It was never going to be a perfect night at the carnival, what with him riding damage control with Dory at the fall fair, but he hadn’t expected it to turn out this badly.

  The patio door slid open. Blake stuck his head out. “Okay, meet me at the wharf. I’ll still row. My brother says we need one more man: one to stay in the boat, and two to search the island. He’ll stay on shore with a spotlight so we can navigate back, and he’s also bringing a rescue kayak in case there’s trouble.”

  Sam wondered if Colton meant trouble in the water or trouble on the island.

  “I’ve already texted Owen. Can you double him on your bike?”

  “How did you know he’d still be awake?”

  Blake arched his eyebrows and then smirked. “There isn’t a guy in town over eleven who goes to bed earlier than 2:00 a.m. on a weekend. Even my brother is up playing video games.”

  Blake handed Sam a hastily scribbled address. “Owen will be waiting outside.” Then Blake frowned. “I’d . . . give you both a ride . . . but . . . ”