The Shark Rider (31 page)

With the help of its undersea road crew, the submersible was now free from the sand. Coach Fred steered it toward the sinking boat and the two men, who were now treading water, terrified. Enraged dolphins, furious rays, livid sharks, and angry campers surrounded the men.

The rain and wind began to let up. It was a lull in the storm. The teens gathered together trying to decide what to do next. Tristan was busy convincing the sharks not to kill Marsh. He told them the campers would see to it that the man got what he deserved and, besides, he would taste really bad; probably worse than most humans. The sharks grudgingly agreed not to fatally wound Marsh, but one shark did bite him solidly on the leg as a little remembrance of his time in the BVIs.

The sea creatures assured the teens they could lead them and the sub back to the Bitter End safely. Rosina held the unconscious green moray eel in her arms; they had an instinctual bond based on mutual mucus affection. She made sure that water passed in
through the sleeping eel's mouth and over its gills so that it could breathe during its drug-induced nap. The shark that had been hit was drowsy and acting kind of loopy. The other sharks helped it, but at one point it came close to giving Hugh a little love bite. Hugh wasn't flattered by the shark's affections and tried to climb on top of the sub to get away from it. His newfound confidence only went so far.

Ryder joined the group. “Their boat's just about on the bottom. Let's just leave them here in the storm.”

The others still looked stunned that he was even there.

“Hey, I was, like, faking it. I wasn't going to work for that dude. What a whacko.”

“We can't just leave them here,” Sam said. “That'd make us just as bad as them.”

“Let's leave them on the reef,” Tristan suggested.

“But you just told the sharks not to kill Marsh?” Hugh noted.

“It'll just rough 'em up a little. We can send a boat out from the Bitter End to get them.”

The others agreed. They towed the injured boat driver and Marsh to the reef off Eustatia Island. It was shallow enough for the two men to stand on.

“Hey, you can't just leave us here at night,” Marsh yelled. “I'm hurt and there's a hurricane coming.”

Most of the teens simply turned and began swimming away. But Tristan couldn't resist a look. He paused and watched the men. As waves struck and blew across the reef, the two men fell over. When they
got up, they hopped around trying to avoid numerous black spiny sea urchins and the sharp coral. Then another wave hit. It looked as if they were walking over hot coals while being blasted by a fire hose. Tristan thought—
couldn't happen to nicer guys
.

He also couldn't resist shouting, “Just relax!”

The campers swam slowly alongside and behind the sub. The sea creatures led the way, navigating through a channel in the lagoon between Eustatia and Virgin Gorda. As soon as they passed behind Saba Rock, the wind and waves subsided even more and they saw a familiar boat cruising toward them.

The small, covered workboat glided to a stop next to the group and submersible. Director Davis and Luis leaned out. Alvin was at the helm. He nodded to them. The teens thanked the other members of their undersea rescue team, telling them they couldn't have escaped or survived without their help. The campers then climbed into the boat and gratefully wrapped themselves in dry, warm towels. Without wetsuits, Hugh, Rosina, and Ryder were shivering and their lips had turned an interesting shade of blue. Alvin drove the boat slowly back to the dock at the Bitter End. The sub followed. The teens helped Coach Fred and Meg out of the submersible and it was secured as well as possible. Alvin, Director Davis, and Coach Fred went back to get Marsh and his man. Coach Fred still had one of the tranquilizer guns. Luis led the others as they made a beeline for the hurricane shelter.

26

UNFINISHED BUSINESS

T
HE WORST OF THE STORM HAD YET TO HIT THE
British Virgin Islands. The bad weather they'd been experiencing was just the outer bands of the still intensifying category one hurricane.

By midnight, everyone left at the Bitter End was huddled together, hunkered down in the hurricane shelter—except Marsh and his man. After they were rescued from the reef, Coach roughly patched up their wounds military style, and they were locked up in a concrete shed for the night. It would be safe and secure, but not the most comfortable place to ride out the storm.

Tristan and the others were now dry and warm, lying on cots, and trying to sleep. The noise outside the shelter was frightful. The wind continued to howl,
and strong gusts rattled the roof. Debris periodically slammed against the small concrete building's walls. And although they were halfway up a high hill, they could still hear huge waves crashing ashore below. Other noises were harder to identify, but no less disturbing.

Rosina and Hugh were under their blankets with pillows over their heads. Sam was curled up in a ball on her cot, while Ryder lay on his back staring at the ceiling. Tristan was awake as well, wishing he could fall asleep. He wondered what he'd done to deserve this. Seriously, could one person be that unlucky? Especially after all they'd already been through and done. Trying to take his mind off the thought of being crushed inside the shelter as it blew apart or being impaled by flying debris, he turned to Ryder. “So, how'd you get off the yacht, anyway?”

Since no one was able to sleep, the other teens either sat up or rolled over to hear the answer.

“Like, I can't believe you all thought I joined up with the pajama dude and toad guy.”

“That's what you said when you left with them,” Hugh explained.

“Yeah, well, I decided to go after I saw what you did in the pool, Hugh. Cool move dude, except for, like, losing the shorts. Didn't need to see that.”

After a few snickers, Ryder continued, “I figured I could fake it too and maybe find a way to radio for help or escape or something.”

“Really?” Tristan said.

“Dude, c'mon. Anyway, once I agreed to work with them and tell them about you guys, they let me roam around the yacht. Fed me whatever I wanted. It was pretty sweet.”

The teens shook their heads and rolled their eyes at him.

“I'm just saying. Once we left the dock, I overheard on a guy's radio that you got away. So when nobody was looking, I went to the side and, like, just dove off.”

“How'd you find us after that?” Sam asked.

“Well, kinda turns out I can talk to sea turtles. Ran into one and it led me to you. I didn't have full webs or anything. But after a while a little came out, leftover from the pill I think.”

“Not bad, Jones,” added Coach Fred, who'd been listening from a nearby cot. “Any idea where the yacht was headed? Did you overhear anything that might help us locate it?”

Ryder grinned. “I did better than that, Coach. Right before I got on the yacht, I took the robo-jelly that was still in Meg's mesh bag from when we swam out to the reef. It was sitting in Marsh's lab. Took it out of the case and hid it in my pocket. By the way, will it, like, work in freshwater?”

Coach looked at him questioningly. “That's an affirmative. Why?”

“I stashed it on the yacht—but I'm not sure if it's in fresh or saltwater.”

“Where'd you put it?” Tristan asked curiously.

Ryder smiled even broader. “In the toilet.”

Even Coach smiled. “Excellent job, Jones.”

Tristan was impressed. Maybe he'd been wrong about Ryder—maybe he wasn't such a bad guy after all.

The director had also been listening in. “As soon as I can, I'll let Flash know. We should be able to use the signal from the robo-jelly to track the yacht. I'll also notify the authorities. Hopefully the men aboard the yacht won't discover too quickly what's in one of their toilets.”

Nearby, Mary had her ear to a battery-operated radio. “The storm has taken a jog to the west. That's good news for us.”

By about three in the morning, the hurricane had passed to their south into the Caribbean Sea, and conditions began to slowly improve. As quiet descended outside, the people inside the shelter got some much-needed sleep.

Mary and her husband were the first to wake up. They held hands and nervously tried the shelter door. Debris was jammed in at the base. Using all their weight, they pushed the door open. Sunlight streamed in, along with air still heavy with moisture. Coach, the director, Meg, and Alvin soon joined the Bitter End's owners as they surveyed the damage. From what they could see, trees were down and debris was scattered about. A few buildings appeared to have sustained minor damage.

“Doesn't look too bad,” Mary noted.

“Nowhere near as bad as a few years back during Hugo—the hurricane that is,” her husband added.

“Speaking of Hugo,” Director Davis said. “I suppose we'd better go check on our overnight guests in the shed.”

“I'll join you,” Coach offered. “Think I'll take that last dart gun with me, just in case.”

“Sounds good. We'll let the campers get some well-deserved rest.”

The adults headed down the trail, clearing debris as they went.

When Tristan woke up, he thought for a moment he was back in Marsh's psycho spa. It was a huge relief to realize that he was at the Bitter End and that the shelter was still standing and intact. He rose groggily to his feet and promptly tripped over Hugh lying on a cot nearby. He landed on Rosina, who woke up with a start. Seeing the look on her face, Tristan leapt to his feet and went for the door. “Hey, check it out. The storm's over.”

“Yeah, I'll check you out,” Rosina said with smirk. Ever since Tristan had helped her in the boulder pool and then returned to get them from Marsh's lair, she'd been acting strangely nice toward him, even joking with him. It was a bit unsettling.

Sam got up and joined Tristan staring out at the blue sky. “Today's got to be better than the last couple of days.”

“You can say that again,” Tristan added. “But, what a mess. Imagine if the hurricane had come right over us.”

Alvin arrived back at the shelter with a scarily large machete in hand.

“Its nots toos bad,” he told them. “Justs a few days of works. Ms. Marys and the others are downs at the office. Says you should goes down theres.”

After rousting Ryder, Mia, and Luis, the teens followed Alvin down the trail to the road. He used the machete to help clear the path as needed. Leaves, branches, and palm fronds were strewn about and piled high by the wind. The shoreline road had been flooded and then drained, leaving several inches of sand behind. One of the long docks was torn up and the sports shack had no roof and one wall was missing. Several small sailboats had also been washed off their moorings. They'd collided and run aground in front of the office building.

The teens tossed debris to the side and picked their way over slabs of wood, pieces of roof, and plant material. On the patio outside the office building, a makeshift breakfast had been set out. It included some fruit, orange juice, coffee, and an assortment of day-old muffins. Alvin left as Director Davis and Coach Fred joined the group.

“Where's creep-man Marsh?” Tristan asked through a muffin-filled mouth. He was so hungry the stale muffin tasted better than a hot-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie. And that was saying a lot.

“No worries,” Coach responded, holding up the dart gun. “He and his pal are taking a little nap till the local authorities get here.”

Mia stared at the two sailboats piled up against the dock. “Are we stranded here? Is the place ruined?”

Director Davis smiled. “No, Mia, the place just needs some cleaning up. We were lucky not to get a direct hit by the storm, so the damage is pretty superficial. We expect communications to be up and running later this morning. But we probably won't be able to get out of the islands for a day or two. As soon as I can, I'll let your parents know everyone's alright and that we'll be headed back to Florida soon.”

“What about the yacht?” Ryder asked.

“No word yet. But once communications are up, we'll get right on it. We're setting up a command post for cleanup and we'll get you all set up in a couple of cottages for the night.”