Eric made a face at the kayaks, then turned to me. “Did you try Dad again?”
“Fifteen times,” I told Eric. “Do you want me to try sixteen?”
His shoulders slumped. “Better save your energy, if you’re planning to row all the way out to that island.”
Once we were on the water, I realized how right Eric was. The island was much farther away than it had looked from the end of the dock. The land receded behind us, but the island never got closer. My arms started to burn, then went numb.
“Um, Gillian? Are you rowing?” Savannah asked from the front of our kayak.
“Yes?” I looked down at my jelly hands and willed them to move.
Eric and Howard sailed past. “Should have worked out more with Mom and me this summer, Gills. Stroke! Stroke!”
I scowled and started rowing again. After what seemed like ages, the solid green mass of trees and overgrowth on the island resolved itself into a thin strip of beach with a deep piney woods behind. Through the thick foliage, I could just make out the shapes of blocky buildings and metal structures. Here and there, sunlight bounced off hidden glass, and over it all stood a tall, rocky outcrop topped with the unmistakable metal spire of a radio tower.
We pulled the kayaks up to the edge of the beach. The narrow band of sand was strewn with driftwood and debris, and very unlike the pristine, wide expanse of beach across the cove.
Savannah wiped her face with her sleeve. “That was no fun. I’m melting out here.”
“You should put on your suit,” said Howard. “Cooling level three.”
“We should all put on our suits,” I said.
“Why?” Eric asked. “It’s not like it’s camouflage.”
“Neither is your red T-shirt, ace,” Savannah said.
“I think the suits are invisible on infrared camera,” I explained, shoving my legs into my suit. “Maybe because of the temperature controls, or maybe because of the silver material, I don’t know. But Howard was invisible to the infrared cameras on the smart courts. And if someone is watching us, it’s probably through infrared camera.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Savannah.
Eric sighed. “It’s because of the bushes. And I hate that I know this.”
“What do you mean, the bushes?” asked Savannah.
“What do you mean, you hate that you know this?” I echoed.
Eric rolled his eyes. “The bushes and trees mean they wouldn’t be able to see us with regular cameras. Also, they can monitor the premises even at night.” He looked at me. “I told you, I don’t always tune out when Dad talks.”
Savannah unrolled her suit. “I hate this thing.”
Howard helped her adjust the zippers. “You won’t say that after you get the cooling system on.”
Once we were dressed, with our cooling levels turned to three, we set off into the woods. Though it looked pretty thick from the beach, with a dark canopy of trees over a tangled, vine-choked undergrowth, about twenty yards in, the foliage thinned out and I could see a sunny clearing beyond the trunks and leaves. We fought our way through the underbrush and eventually broke through. Before us was a small, brownish field enclosed by a series of wire fences that divided the space into square paddocks. Beyond the grass was a cluster of boxy, almost windowless concrete buildings nearly eaten by vines, and a large, crescent-shaped crystalline structure that arched as high as the roofs. Everything was old and grungy compared to the glistening, modern technological wonderland of the rest of Eureka Cove.
“Wow,” said Eric. “Guidant just abandoned all this?”
“Well, they wanted it more green,” Savannah said. “Do weeds count?”
“That’s not what Elana meant. She meant they weren’t able to fix these buildings to be in keeping with their environmental initiatives,” said Howard.
I didn’t see any solar panels or smart cars. Then again, I didn’t see any roads, either. So far, it appeared to be exactly what Elana had described—a whole lot of nothing.
We approached the fence, and as we did, what looked like a pile of dead grass shifted and started coming our way. We all froze. As it got closer, I saw tiny black snouts and bright eyes emerging from the light brown mass.
“It’s . . . sheep,” said Eric. “They’re . . . sheep?”
Tiny sheep. The creatures were probably no taller than my knee, with thick, shaggy coats that swept the ground as they headed toward the wires that separated us from them.
“Aww, how cute,” Savannah said.
“They’re so small!” cried Eric, bending over the fence wires. “Who’s a widdle sheep?”
“Baa,” said the sheep all at once.
Eric snapped back up. “That was . . . creepy.”
“Look at this.” Savannah pointed at a sign affixed to the fence.
FLOCK 4
SIZE RATING: IDEAL
WOOL PRODUCTION: IDEAL
MEAT PRODUCTION: UNSATISFACTORY
METHANE PRODUCTION: SATISFACTORY
REPRODUCTION RATING: SATISFACTORY
RESOURCE RATING: SATISFACTORY
COMPLETION DATE:
“What’s methane?” I asked.
“Sheep farts,” said Howard.
Eww.
“There’s another sign over here.” Savannah jogged over to the next paddock, which was empty. The sheep turned their heads as one to follow her movement, like they shared a brain or something. Was that a normal sheep thing?
“It says ‘Flock Three.’ The ratings aren’t as good. ‘Completion date’ was back in May.”
Eric ran to the paddock on the other side. “‘Flock Two.’ Almost all unsatisfactories, except for meat production and size rating. Completion back in March.”
“Completion!” Savannah echoed sarcastically. “They mean the day they killed them. Poor sheep.” She patted one on his woolly head.
“Baa,” they all said.
“Do you think they’re clones?” I asked. That’s what people did, was clone sheep, right? “They all look exactly alike.”
“I think that’s because they’re sheep,” said Eric. “Sheep always look exactly alike.”
“Do they always move like this?” I asked. “Bleat at the same time, turn at the same time?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Do I look like a shepherd?”
We both stared at each other as we realized what he’d just said. Shepherds ready to move on target. Phase two to be launched on island.
Shepherds.
“Oh, no, Gills,” he said. “Don’t tell me we’re out here because of some actual, literal sheep.”
“No.” No. I refused to believe that.
“This isn’t the school’s cryptography club,” Eric went on. “It’s their 4-H.”
“No!” We didn’t just get some message about shepherds. We also got one with our name in it. “Elana said this island wasn’t in use. So at the very least she was lying.”
“Wow, call the cops,” Eric drawled. “The head of an enormous company lied to a twelve-year-old about something that was none of her business anyway.”
“Or maybe she doesn’t know about every single project happening on the campus,” said Savannah. “She has a huge international company to run. How is she supposed to stay on top of a few dozen sheep, especially if it is a school project like the numbers station? Maybe she doesn’t know about the sheep. Poor things.”
“Baa,” said the sheep.
“Or maybe she doesn’t know about it because it’s a Shepherd project,” said Howard. He pointed to the sign.
There, in tiny print at the bottom right corner, was the image of a pair of J-shaped shepherd’s crooks crossed over a globe. I recognized it instantly, from the bags our utility suits came in, the electrified fences placed around the smoking ruins of Omega City, the faded tattoo scar on the inside of Fiona’s arm. It was the symbol of the Arkadia Group.
It was the mark of the Shepherds.
I took two steps back, as if the crooks drawn on the sign
were about to reach out and grab me. I no longer needed the cooling setting on my utility suit, as the blood seemed to drain away from my body.
I’d expected to feel vindicated—after all, we’d come to the island looking for proof that the Shepherds were here—but instead, my stomach twisted in knots. A few Shepherds hiding out and sending coded messages were one thing. Paddocks bearing the Arkadia Group brand . . . that was something else.
Just then, a loud buzzing filled the air and two flying drones buzzed over the tops of the trees. The sheep all turned their faces to the sky.
“Hoods up!” I hissed, and pulled the silver hood up over the top of my utility suit. This would be the real test. If the drones were only equipped with infrared cameras, there was a chance they wouldn’t spot us.
The drones flew about fifteen feet in the air, buzzing along until they reached the middle of the paddock housing Flock 4 of the pygmy sheep. A hatch in the bottom of the drones’ bodies opened, dropping green pellets all over the dusty field, and then they zipped off toward the center of the island. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Think they saw us?” Savannah asked.
“Let’s not wait to find out.”
As a unit, the sheep all turned and trotted over to the pellets, bleating in chorus. As a unit, they all lowered their heads to the earth and began snuffling up the food.
As a unit, Howard, Savannah, Eric, and I all turned to one another. I couldn’t see the others’ faces behind the visors of the suits, but I’m sure they were as astounded as I was.
“Okay, they are really freaking me out,” Eric said.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s find out where those drones went.” If we followed them to the source, we could discover who was really behind this operation, and see if they had Dad.
We slid beneath the wires of the paddock and waded through the mass of bleating sheep. I had to admit, they were quite adorable, with their tiny little faces and fluffy, matted coats. I didn’t know sheep came this small. They definitely weren’t lambs, either, but full-grown sheep with thick, fluffy coats and long snouts. I couldn’t imagine how cute their lambs would be. They’d probably look like little teacup poodles.
I wondered when their “completion date” was. Savannah was right. Poor things.
“Baa,” said one, as a whole mess of poop fell out of its backside near my foot.
Then again . . .
On the other side of the paddocks, the vine-choked concrete walls of the nearest building rose before us. I didn’t even see a door through the foliage, and there was no sign of the drones, or anything else.
I sighed. I don’t know what I’d been expecting. A nice big window into a room where the Shepherds sat like cartoon villains, twirling their mustaches while my dad was tied to a chair?
Yeah, right.
“I’m going to try Dad again.” I pulled out my phone, but there was no reception. I showed Eric the screen. “Didn’t Elana say that radio tower was a cell phone relay? If that were true, we’d have a signal now.”
Another lie. And now the truth seemed horribly clear. What if Elana had lied to us about everything on the island because it was all one big Shepherd project?
What if Elana Mero was a Shepherd?
14
THE FIRST ASTRONAUTS
NO. THAT WAS RIDICULOUS. THE SHEPHERDS HAD TRIED TO DESTROY MY father’s reputation; they’d made Dr. Underberg disappear and erased all his contributions to science. Ms. Mero and Guidant, on the other hand, had offered my father a job—she’d invited Dad to come speak to them about Dr. Underberg and his city, and wanted to bring his battery to the world. They couldn’t be more different.
Right?
But here’s what I knew. One: this island belonged to Guidant. Two: this island had the marks of the Shepherds all over it. Three: this island was off-limits, and Elana claimed there was nothing here. So either she had no idea what was happening right under her nose . . . or she’d been lying to us all along.
Either way, things didn’t look good.
“We should go back,” Savannah said. “I kind of promised your mom we wouldn’t go off exploring on our own.”
“Too late for that,” said Howard.
Back where? To Eureka Cove, where every move we made was tracked, and Elana Mero, possible Shepherd mastermind, had my dad?
What if they were all Shepherds? At dinner last night, Elana and Anton and even Dani had been defending the Shepherds, arguing that maybe they weren’t as bad as we’d thought. And Anton had said they had a point.
How had we been so dumb?
“If Guidant is somehow involved with the Arkadia Group, we’re no safer back there than here on the island,” I said.
“I kind of think that’s not true,” said Eric. “Back on the mainland, we can call Mom.”
Mom . . . I remembered what she’d said, about the Shepherds leaving Dad alone because it wasn’t Omega City they’d been worried about him exposing. The Shepherds had abandoned Omega City decades ago, but whatever was going on here at Eureka Cove appeared to be happening now.
But if they were worried about Dad finding them, why would they bring him here, to Eureka Cove? Why would the Shepherds, of all people, offer my father a job? If they’d wanted to kidnap him, they could have just done it. Instead, they bought us dinner.
It didn’t make sense at all.
Howard spoke up. “The messages from the numbers station talked about the Shepherds. They talked about the island. And they talked about your family. That’s why we’re here. Back on the mainland, they tracked our every move. Here, at least, we have a chance of looking around without them knowing what we’re doing.”
“Huh,” said Savannah. “That’s a good point.”
“Yeah,” said Eric. “Scary, but good.”
“Okay,” I said. “So we’re agreed. We’ll go back to the mainland once we’ve figured out what’s going on here.” We knew the Shepherds had a presence on this island, but not what it was they were doing. Or why.
Or if they really had my father.
WE CIRCLED AROUND the first set of buildings, looking for a way to enter, or any sign of the Shepherds or the drones we’d just seen feeding the sheep. Howard was arguing that if the animals were being cared for by drones, it was possible that no actual Shepherds ever needed to set foot on the island.
“Drones didn’t nail up those signs,” said Savannah, and Howard fell silent.
Around the other side, a new building came into view, and we all stopped and stared at it. This one was short and squat, with curved walls studded with long, high windows. It was shaped like a short, squat ring, and up through the hollow center rose the jagged, shattered remains of what I now realized must have once been a towering glass dome.
I followed the wreckage up, up, up, to where the remains of the dome rose above the tops of the surrounding foliage. Enormous panes of cracked glass dangled from triangular metal support structures, looking like they were held aloft by no more than the vines that crawled up the sides. A bushy green growth like a treetop peeked up from the center of the ruin.
“What is it?” Eric asked in a whisper.
“I think . . . I think it’s a geodesic dome,” Savannah whispered in reply.
“A what?” asked Eric.
She pointed. “See those metal struts? They form a lattice of triangles to help distribute the weight so it won’t collapse.”
“But it did collapse,” Howard said.
“How do you know this?” Eric asked, looking at Savannah in disbelief.
“I built one out of toothpicks for extra credit in math class last year.”
“You did?” He made a face. “I didn’t know that was an extra-credit project.”
“That’s because you could barely handle the regular credits.”
I stared at the treetop jutting through the center. It looked too big—too tall and thick—to have just sprouted up in the last few years since the building was abandoned. But this structure—whatever it
was—was the largest thing on the island. If “phase two” of anything had been activated on the island, surely it would be here. “Let’s check it out.”
As we drew closer, I saw a pair of double glass doors. The handles were padlocked together, but the panes of glass had broken and fallen away. I reached the doors and checked the ground at my feet. There was a large pane of crumbled glass with the remains of etched writing in it. I could make out the Guidant logo—a large, stylized gamma symbol—and the following words.
IMPANZ
SEARC
ENTE
“Any guesses?” I asked the others.
Howard unzipped one of his cargo pockets. “I’ll get the code book.”
“It’s not code,” said Eric, crouching in the dust. “It’s missing letters. This first one . . . I have no idea. But I think the second word is ‘search.’”
“Or maybe ‘research’?” I suggested.
“Yes! ‘Research Center.’ Now we just have to figure out what they are researching.”
“Chimpanzees,” breathed Savannah.
“Huh,” said Eric. “I guess that does fit. Good guess.”
“No.” Savannah nudged him with her foot. “Chimpanzees.” She pointed and we all looked.
The interior of the building was dim and shadowy, a mess of debris, fallen leaves, and broken office furniture. Overturned desks and cracked tables lay alongside piles of abandoned paper, chalkboards, and computer equipment with tangled wires. Beyond these was the massive space under the dome. At one time, it looked like it was separated from this room by large panes of glass, but those were long gone. The interior of the dome was set up like a zoo habitat, crisscrossed by giant ropes and climbing nets and dotted with plastic buckets and rubber balls around the platforms built into the spreading branches of an enormous tree. And there, hidden among the branches and peering out over the nets, were more than a dozen chimpanzees.
They watched us as intently as the sheep had, their tiny black eyes not blandly interested, like the sheep, but rather sharp and knowing . . . and more than a little hostile. They were scattered all over the dome, large and small. Funny, I’d always thought of chimps as cute and sweet, in movies or zoos or on posters in my science classroom. I’d seen them at zoos, looking through the glass with calm disinterest, used to people moving past their enclosures day in and day out. These animals weren’t like that. They were wild.
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