Radioactive

  Copyright © 2016 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  Darby Creek

  A division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North

  Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA

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  The images in this book is used with the permission of: © iStockphoto.com/Nobilior (hallway); © iStockphoto.com/Iryna_Rasko (abandoned room); © Joe Techapanupreeda/Shutterstock.com (woman in window); iStockphoto.com/mustafahacalaki (skull); © iStockphoto.com/Igor Zhuravlov (storm); © iStockphoto.com/desifoto (graph paper); © iStockphoto.com/Trifonenko (blue flame); © iStockphoto.com/Anita Stizzoli (dark clouds).

  Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5. Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  The Cataloging-in-Publication Data for Radioactive is on file at the Library of Congress.

  ISBN 978-1-5124-1327-4 (lib. bdg.)

  ISBN 978-1-5124-1355-7 (pbk.)

  ISBN 978-1-5124-1356-4 (EB pdf)

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  1-39787-21324-3/28/2016

  9781512419504 ePub

  9781512419511 ePub

  9781512419528 mobi

  For D.T. “So the kids go to the place and do some things?” Yep, pretty much.

  Chapter 1

  Something’s different about the island.

  Zack’s been coming here since first grade. It’s always had a specific vibe. Calm, lazy. Like a 3-D tourist brochure.

  Not today, though. Today there’s a static electricity in the air, like before a storm or a riot. As soon as Zack gets off the ferry, he feels as if someone is pinching each of his veins with a pair of tweezers. He glances at his dad, at his younger brother and sister. They don’t seem to be picking up on the tension. Maybe they’re all too distracted. Ben’s arguing with Leah about what to do first tomorrow: hike to Moray Hill or go whale watching. And Dad is looking at his phone. Work stuff, of course.

  Zack tightens his grip on his duffel bag. He leads the way from the ferry’s landing point to the shoreline road. The Halwins’ bed and breakfast is just a few blocks away. Zack could find it with his eyes closed. But he’s not going to try that. He’s keeping his eyes wide open.

  Everything looks the same as it did last year. The intense blue of the Pacific water—the kind of blue that makes your eyes ache. The marina, full of sleek boats with names like Paradise and The Dreamer. The perky little buildings, mostly white with red roofs, clustered along the shore like a welcoming party. The sloping hills crammed with fir trees, just beyond the town. Even the sun. There’s sun here, off the coast of Washington state. Back home in Seattle, it’s raining, as usual. The weather is half the reason Wardwell Island has always seemed so cheerful. Almost magical.

  Except right now. Zack can’t shake the feeling. Something’s more than different. Something’s wrong.

  One obvious red flag: the emptiness. The marina should be crowded on a day like this. But hardly anyone is out here. And the handful of people Zack does see—they look the way he feels. As if they’re carrying grenades in their pockets.

  “Fine,” sighs Ben. “Moray Hill first. But whale watching right after.” For a nine-year-old, he can sound like a weary old man when he wants to. Must’ve picked it up from Dad.

  “Deal,” says Leah. Zack doesn’t turn around to look, but he suspects Leah is shaking Ben’s hand. She’s a year younger than Ben, almost seven years younger than Zack. But she likes to pretend she’s the mature one.

  Dad swears under his breath. “Then run a correction, you idiot,” he mutters at his phone screen.

  “Problems at work?” Zack asks. Still without turning around. What’s the point?

  Dad doesn’t exactly answer. But he keeps muttering, which tells Zack all he needs to know. “I’m gone for one day and people forget how to fact-check. I should just fire Amber. This is a business, for the love of . . . When you’re not sure about a date, you can’t just make one up . . .”

  This is Dad. Constant work mode. Even at the start of a five-day vacation, the only vacation he takes all year. The only time he really spends with Zack, Ben, and Leah. They’ll be at the top of Moray Hill, or out in a boat looking for orcas, and Dad will still be editing BehindTheCurtain.com.

  Zack glances out at the water. The ferry’s already pulling away from shore. They were the last passengers. Everyone else got off at the other islands farther north. Wardwell is small compared to the other San Juan islands. It’s also cheaper, less choked with tourists. And at the moment, it’s making Zack’s skin crawl, for reasons he still can’t pin down.

  The B&B is a gorgeous two-story Victorian house. The sign on the front proudly says Family-owned since 1955. Zack’s family stays here every year. Zack sleeps better here than he does in either of his beds in Seattle. He always wakes up hungry and leaves the breakfast buffet with a goofy smile. Maybe once they’re inside, whatever’s crawling up and down his spine will leave him alone.

  No dice. The lobby hits him in the face with tension. In a way, the feeling is familiar. It reminds him of times before his parents’ divorce, moments when they wanted to argue but didn’t.

  And yet this runs deeper than anything he’s used to. Bigger than the feelings of a few people. It’s a pent-up panic infesting the walls like mold.

  Zack is not a fan.

  Mrs. Halwin is at the front desk, the landline phone pressed to her ear. A man and a woman, both in their twenties, hover in front of the desk. Off to the side, another young woman sits in one of the lobby’s chairs, crying.

  Mrs. Halwin sees Zack and his family come in. Holds up a finger. “. . . All right. Thank you, Officer.” She hangs up and says something to the two guests. Zack tries to listen in but can’t overhear anything.

  The man and woman both nod, jaws clenched. They thank Mrs. Halwin and turn to the woman in the chair. “Come on, Steph,” the guy says to her. “Nothing we can do right now except wait . . .”

  “But it doesn’t make sense!” she wails. “He’d been sailing all his life! He knew what he was doing! He wouldn’t—he couldn’t have just—” That’s as far as she gets before the sobs crowd out the words.

  While the crying woman’s friends half-carry her out of the lobby, Mrs. Halwin lets out a huge, shaky sigh. She adjusts her necklace, a silver chain with a small wheel-shaped charm hanging from it. Then she tries to smile at Zack. It’s painful, watching her mouth twist so unnaturally.

  “Welcome back! Right on time for check-in, as usual. I’ve got your room keys right here, Mr. Silver. Ben, Leah, would you like to sign the guestbook?”

  Dad swaps his credit card for the keys and chats with Mrs. Halwin about the ferry trip. Ben and Leah take turns scribbling in the notebook on the desk. Zack waits for an opening. When Dad runs out of things to say, Zack asks, “Mrs. Halwin, is everything okay?”

  The same fake smile. “Of course, Zack. It’s great to have you back. How’s school? Junior year, right?”

  So much for that. “Uh, yeah. It’s good. I have homework over break, but not much.” Enough filler talk. New tactic: “Is Nola around?”

  “She’s getting some rooms ready. Her shift’s over soon, though.”

  “Cool, I’ll just text her. Thanks, Mrs. Halwin.”

  He trails behind his dad and siblings. Halfway
up the stairs, he looks back.

  The smile’s gone from Mrs. Halwin’s face. Replaced by a look Zack doesn’t have a word for. The closest one he can find is terror.

  ***

  Hey, we just got here. Your mom put us in 4 and 5. You up for hanging out when you’re done working?

  Zack fires off the text to Nola, then starts unpacking. He has Room 4 to himself. Dad, Ben, and Leah have the bigger room across the hall. One of the perks of coming here in April, before peak tourist season. They get to spread out at least a little.

  His phone buzzes. Just Mom, checking that they got here safely. Of course Dad forgot to text her. Zack has just replied, with an emoji to make her feel better, when someone knocks on his door.

  “Come in.”

  By the time Zack looks up from his phone, Nola’s shutting the door behind her. “Hey, Zack.”

  “Hey. You look awful.”

  They’ve known each other since they were six, so she won’t take that comment the wrong way. She’ll know he’s not insulting her new super-short haircut or the touristy Wardwell Island T-shirt she wears while she’s “on duty” at the B&B. She’ll know he just means her expression.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Nola runs a hand through her hair, making it briefly stand on end. Zack notices her thick silver earrings, the same wheel shape as her mom’s necklace. She’s had those for ages. He just doesn’t remember them being so polished before. They seem to suck up all the stray light in the room and reflect it back in narrow, blinding glints.

  She takes a deep breath.

  “One of the guests has gone missing.”

  Chapter 2

  “Missing?” says Zack. “As in . . .”

  “As in he was supposed to check out at eight this morning. It’s now, what, three thirty?”

  Zack checks his phone. “Three thirty-eight.”

  “Yeah. And no one’s seen him since yesterday morning, when he went down the marina to rent a sailboat. The friends who came here with him haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

  Zack can guess who those friends are. One third in tears, two thirds silently grim. “You think he had some kind of accident?”

  “That’s what we’re afraid of.” Nola flops down on Zack’s bed. Her earrings flash again, snatching more afternoon light from the window. “My mom called the Coast Guard and the sheriff’s office. They’ll start an official search. But by now it might be too late.”

  “Man, I hope not.” Zack sits down next to her. “I can’t remember anybody ever getting hurt here.”

  “Neither can I,” says Nola. “And I’ve lived here all my life.”

  Zack picks at a loose bit of skin around his thumbnail. Maybe this explains the weird mood he’s been sensing. On a small island like this, news travels fast. And bad news is bad for everyone.

  Still. It’s one thing for people to be on edge. It’s another thing for the actual air to have dark undercurrents in it. A missing tourist doesn’t seem like an answer to that. Except in a tip-of-the-iceberg sort of way.

  “Sorry,” says Nola. “Guess this doesn’t start your spring break on a good note.”

  “Hey, that’s the least of your worries. And I’m still glad to be here. Are you free this afternoon?”

  “I’m meeting Lamar when he finishes work. We’re having dinner at my grandpa’s tonight, but before that we were just going to hang out. You should tag along.”

  Zack grins. “Yeah, I bet I’m exactly the third wheel you’ve been waiting for.”

  “Phsh, don’t be stupid. We’ve all been friends since we had our baby teeth. Just because Lamar and I are together now doesn’t mean we don’t want you around. You’re only here for a few days anyway.”

  “True. You’ll have plenty of time to yourselves when I’m gone.”

  “Okay, go ahead, twist my words.” She swats him on the arm. “Anyway, Lamar’s done at four. Want to walk over there? You can bring Ben and Leah too if your dad needs to get some work done.”

  “Either you’re a mind reader, or you know my family pretty well.” Zack grabs his phone and room key. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  The town of Wardwell is just what you’d expect an island tourist trap to be. There are clothing boutiques and souvenir shops, cafés, a couple music stores, an ice cream parlor, a cupcake place. Zack finds it boring, but in a pleasant way. Usually, at least.

  Lamar’s mom and stepmom own the used-book store wedged between an art gallery and a thrift shop. Ben and Leah charge straight for the kids’ section while Zack and Nola go up to the counter. “Hey, Nola,” says Lamar’s stepmom, Eliza. “Hi, Zack! You just get here?”

  “Yeah, literally just. How’s it going, Eliza?”

  “Oh, I guess it could be better.” That’s one thing Zack loves about Lamar’s family. Polite honesty. He loves Nola’s folks too, but Mr. and Mrs. Halwin have “hospitality industry” carved into their bones. They’ll never admit to having a bad day. Or to being freaked out. Eliza has just made it clear that she’s mildly freaked out.

  Lamar sticks his head around the side of a bookcase. “Zack, how you doing, man? Good to see you.” He raises his hand in greeting, and the silver ring on his hand glimmers, catching Zack off guard. Maybe he’s developing some weird medical condition. Ultra-sensitivity to metal jewelry. He should look it up online.

  Lamar grins at Nola. “Baby, I’ll finish shelving this stack and then I’m done.”

  He disappears again. Zack turns back to Eliza. “You heard about the missing tourist?”

  “Yeah,” says Eliza grimly. “I hope he turns up. Feels extra spooky, with the anniversary.”

  “What anniversary?”

  Before Eliza can respond, the phone at the counter rings. While she answers it, Zack shoots a questioning glance at Nola. She shrugs and mouths, “No idea.”

  “Yes, we’re open until eight on Sundays,” Eliza says into the phone. “And tomorrow we’re open from eight to nine. Yes, that’s our normal weekday schedule. Sure thing, take care . . .”

  She hangs up just as Lamar emerges from the maze of bookshelves. “Consider me clocked out, Li,” he tells her. “And I’m having dinner with Nola and Weird Hal at six, so I’ll be home like eight-ish.”

  “Okay.” She rubs her shoulder lightly, as if the muscle is sore. Zack’s pretty sure she has a tattoo there, but she usually keeps it covered. “Just . . . be careful.”

  Lamar raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “Uh, yes ma’am.”

  Zack jumps in. “Eliza, do you mind if I ditch Ben and Leah here for an hour or so?”

  He’s done this plenty of times. It’s practically an annual tradition. But Eliza hesitates. Zack can see her calculating, weighing something. It takes her just a half-second to decide. But it’s a half-second she’s never needed before. “Um . . . sure. I’ll keep an eye on them. And just call if you get delayed. Or if you want your dad to come get them instead.”

  “Sure. Thanks, I owe you.” The whole exchange feels uncomfortable. Eliza keeps rubbing her shoulder. Zack wonders if there’s a bug bite under her sleeve.

  He gets Ben and Leah up to speed, then follows his friends outside. Eliza’s strange “be careful” settles in the nape of his neck. You don’t usually have to be careful on Wardwell Island. Wardwell Island takes good care of you.

  “So,” says Nola. “A walk? Down by the marina?”

  “Works for me.” Lamar takes her hand and they all head toward the shoreline. Now Zack gets a good look at Lamar’s ring. Same wheel shape engraved on it. Somehow he’s never noticed this design before. Or at least never thought about it. He’s not even sure why he’s thinking about it now.

  Lamar’s voice breaks in on his brooding. “Zack, fill us in. What you been up to?”

  Zack tries to shove his uneasiness aside. Tries to catch up with Lamar and Nola the way they do every year. They’re like friends from summer camp. Their bond formed fast and has lasted a long time. Most of the year, they’re only in touch
through social media. But for these five days he feels closer to them than to friends he sees way more often. So he does his best to make the most of it. To ignore the churning in his stomach, the strange urge to run for cover.

  They walk slowly along the shore road. Past the marina. Past the ferry landing. Past the outskirts of town. The road ends, replaced by a flat, rocky strip of beach. To their right, the shadows of the fir trees hover. To the left, water laps at the rocks. It’s almost five, but sunset is still hours away.

  The feeling hasn’t faded. It keeps zinging through Zack’s body, stubborn, insistent.

  “And how’s your dad?” asks Lamar. “Has he uncovered any new government conspiracies?”

  “Not really. Behind the Curtain did get hold of some of Senator DeWitt’s private emails last month. But that’s pretty much the biggest story they’ve run lately . . .”

  He trails off when he sees the boat.

  It’s beached a few feet ahead of them. Slumped sideways, like it’s exhausted.

  Zack knows it must be the tourist’s boat. And even before they reach it, he knows it’s empty.

  Chapter 3

  Zack closes his eyes to block out the flashes of the cop car’s lights. He and Nola and Lamar have been standing here for half an hour. First, waiting for the deputies to show up after Nola made the call. Then explaining how they found the boat. Now just standing. Not sure what else to do.

  Red and blue splotches attack the backs of his eyelids. He gives up and opens his eyes again. A small crowd has gathered around the washed-up boat. Zack sees some locals he recognizes, plus a smattering of tourists. Walking stereotypes in Hawaiian shirts and hats that say I Heart Wardwell. Zack feels vaguely embarrassed for them.

  His phone buzzes. Dad. Zack had texted him twenty minutes ago, asking him to pick up Ben and Leah from the book store. Just saw your text. Will pick up B & L. You OK?

  He replies Yeah and puts his phone back in his pocket. One of the deputies walks back to the cop car. She’s carrying a clear plastic bag with a few lumpy, dark objects in it. “You kids are free to go,” she says. “Thanks for calling this in.”