Deadout Page 8

  The cabin was less than twenty feet away, but I had to put my hands out in front of me to feel for the porch post in the darkness. I turned the light on when I got inside, and then immediately turned it off.

  I took off my boots in the darkness, then sidled up to the window so I could see the tables in the commons. I had to get pretty close in order to see Teddy. Sure enough, a couple minutes later, he stood, stretching in that same fake way I had done, and said his goodnights. I backed away from the window, waiting for him to pass. Then I stepped up and watched him walking up toward the big house. When I lost the angle, I opened the front door a crack, watching through the gap.

  I could just make him out. Halfway to the big house, he looked over his shoulder. Then he stopped and turned, and headed off to the right, toward the compost piles and the tree line.

  I stepped silently out onto the porch; then I looked down at my bare feet, stark white in the darkness. I’m not a barefoot-in-the-park kind of guy, but I figured it would help keep the noise down.

  The porch floor felt smooth and cool as I padded across it, but when I stepped off, the ground was cold and damp, a mixture of grass and dirt and dew. Probably some bugs, too.

  I crept through the gap between the two cabins, and stopped at the rear, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The moonlight seemed brighter back here, and I could see Teddy’s silvery outline making its way toward the trees. When he disappeared behind the compost pile at the end, I crept forward to the space between the two in the middle. At first, I couldn’t find him, and I was concerned that maybe he was headed back already. But then I saw a red glint through the trees.

  I moved my head and got a better angle on it. It was the taillight of a car. I could see Teddy’s outline moving toward it, disappearing and reappearing as he made his way through the trees. By the time he stopped, he was mostly obscured by the trees, partially outlined in red as he stood behind the car. For a moment, there was another light, the dim yellow of a dome light. Then it winked out. A few seconds later, a another figure appeared in the shallow pool of red light.

  They stood there for a few seconds. Then they both disappeared. The dome light winked on, as I heard the car door close, and it winked off. The red light drifted off to the right before disappearing completely.

  I turned to head back, but the moon had slipped back behind the clouds and the ground was transformed into a pit of blackness. I stepped forward and my foot landed on something wet and squishy, probably half-rotted garbage that had tumbled off the pile. The next step was good, but then the third step landed on what felt like a punji stick. I was convinced that if there was any light, I would see it protruding from the top of my foot. As I took a moment to catch my breath and bite my lip so I didn’t curse out loud, I was rewarded with a soft wash of yellow light illuminating my way back. I hopped as quickly as I could back to the cabin, stopping only when I realized the source of the light.

  Lights on in the cabin meant Nola was back. Probably wondering what I was up to. Creeping around the front of the cabin, I noticed everyone was gone except the skinny guy and the object of his affection.

  When I got inside, Nola was lying in bed, reading. She looked at me over the book, up and down, lingering on my feet, then on my face.

  “I went for a walk,” I said.

  She looked back down at my feet to let me know she didn’t believe me. “Nice night for it.”

  Then she closed the book and rolled far enough away from me that even in the tiny bed there would be plenty of space between us.

  17

  Nola was gone when I woke up, and so was everyone else. It was only eight, but the sun was up and the morning was warm. I went outside in jeans and a T-shirt. No shoes, just to prove a point, and maybe to toughen up my feet a bit, since apparently they needed it.

  It was Sunday morning. If there had been a communal breakfast, I had missed it. What I really missed was coffee.

  I walked down to one of the trails at the far end of the commons. The fields spread out below on a gentle slope, rows of scrubby bushes covered with white blossoms, a few young farmers hard at work, dabbing little brushes in each little blossom. It looked like they were dusting for fingerprints.

  I spotted Nola at the far end of the field. She might have seen me, but she didn’t look up, so I didn’t wave. Besides, she was at work.

  Back in the cabin, I put on my boots and grabbed the car keys. I needed a coffee.

  I half expected the Buick to still be parked in front of the driveway, but it wasn’t. It was a hundred yards down the road, facing back toward the driveway. I slowed as I passed it, sharing a look with the two suits inside.

  They scowled, but it wasn’t like they were trying to be discreet. I tapped my forehead in a salute; then I tapped the accelerator and sped off.

  * * *

  I was starting to get my bearings on the island, and I drove into Oak Bluffs without looking at the map. I ended up at Mocha Mott’s and ran into Moose, sitting at a table with Benjy and Pete. They each had a bagel and a coffee. A map and a bunch of papers were spread out in front of them. Moose and Benjy looked like they’d been up for a while. Pete didn’t look much better. Moose did a double take when I walked in.

  “You’re still here?” he said.

  “For the moment. Why?”

  “Are you busy?”

  I shrugged. “I have plans to get a cup of coffee, but I’m open after that. Why?”

  “I need you to help move some of the bee stations. Can you give us a couple of hours?”

  Benjy and Pete looked up for the first time, as if they had both just noticed me.

  “Um…” That wasn’t how I had planned on spending my morning, but I hadn’t planned anything else, either. “Sure, I guess.”

  I got a large coffee with a double shot of espresso. It seemed like that kind of morning.

  * * *

  “I thought you were leaving this morning,” Moose said, driving at a decent clip. “When are you here until?”

  “I don’t know. I have the next couple of days off, but it might be good to have some home-alone time. Besides, I’m not sure Nola likes the idea of me being here.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “Seriously? I’m sure that’s not the case.”

  “You think?”

  “No, she’s crazy about you. She told me so.”

  I didn’t ask when, but I had a feeling it might not have been recently. “So what’s going on with you? You looked like crap yesterday, you look worse today. And your friends have the same look.”

  He shook his head, gave me a look so scared it scared me, too. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Not yet.”

  “I don’t know anyone up here, and I don’t talk to anyone anyway.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath, his face going pale. “It’s the bees, man. Something very messed up is going on.”

  “What’s wrong with them?”

  He turned and gave me a look like stone. “They’re all dying.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For weeks we’ve been tracking them, how many there are and where they’re going. Or we were. From the first day of spring, something was up. They emerged from the winter, and then their numbers started dropping, almost immediately. In the last few days, it’s been dramatic, like ninety percent declines. It started up island, first the stations in Aquinnah and Menemsha, then Chilmark and West Tisbury, too. Now it’s almost the whole island. We thought there was an equipment malfunction, but we’re pretty sure the equipment is fine. That’s why we’re resetting it all, so we can check it one last time.”

  “So, shouldn’t you be telling someone? Why are you keeping it secret?”

  “Because this is huge. We have to be totally sure, and then … I don’t know, I guess folks are going to have to figure out the right way to tell people, because they are going to freak the fuck out.” He shook his head. “And I’m going to be right there with them.”

  We worked in silence for the n
ext few hours, covering one half of the island while Benjy and Pete covered the other half. We moved each station, just a few feet, then Moose switched out the hard drives and we reset them: turn the server off, disconnect the power source, wait a full minute, hold down the power switch, then reconnect it, and power up. Each time he pulled out the hard drive, he’d stare at it, as if by looking at it he could figure out what was on it.

  When we were done, he drove me back to the coffee shop to pick up the Jeep.

  “All right,” he said as he pulled over. “I’ve got to drop these off at the lab. Then we’re going to meet up at the Black Dog in Vineyard Haven for brunch.”

  I looked at my watch. “It’s three o’clock.”

  He smiled, first time all day. “Yeah, Black Dog brunch is until four. And it’s awesome. Everybody goes there.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was up for brunch, and I didn’t know what would be waiting for me back at the cabin. The suits in the Buick were gone and the campground was deserted. Inside the cabin, there was a note on the bed: “Finished early. Gone to brunch. See you later.”

  18

  I’d always suspected the Black Dog existed only as a trademarked logo, but there it was, right on the water in Vineyard Haven, next to where the ferry had let us off. An honest-to-God place.

  The parking spaces out front were full, so I parked in the lot across the street. Apparently, late brunch was a big deal around here.

  The place had a vaguely rustic feel, done up in exposed wood, like the Alehouse, but instead of some of the nautical tchotchkes, it had windows all the way around.

  As soon as I walked in, I saw Nola sitting with her coworkers at a large row of tables pushed together. She had her back to the door, and was sitting across from Teddy, who was once again in the center, talking. He looked up when I walked in, and I gave him a little nod, but he just kept talking.

  The room was loud, festive but with a frantic edge to it. Dawson and Tyrique, Johnny Blue’s bodyguards, were sitting in the corner with proportionately massive piles of food in front of them. They seemed to be watching Teddy, then Tyrique saw me and said something to Dawson, who turned to look in my direction. I wondered if there was going to be trouble, but they went back to their food.

  I hadn’t seen the Buick out front, but the two suits were there, too. It felt like a reunion from the Alehouse. I hoped it wasn’t going to turn into a reenactment.

  Pete was at a table with four other guys. I nodded to him and he nodded back, but the whole table seemed to be watching me warily.

  Moose was sitting with Benjy in the other dining room. He waved me over and pointed to the two empty seats next to him. I held up a finger and headed over to Nola’s table.

  As I approached, Teddy looked up again. This time Nola turned around.

  “Doyle!” she said with a slight smile. She stood and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You remember everyone, right?”

  I smiled at the table, but no one was looking at me except Teddy. He didn’t smile back.

  “I saved you a seat, but then Elaine’s friend showed up. Let’s see if we can get another chair.” She beckoned the hostess. The table was strewn with empty plates, all smeared with egg yolks or syrup.

  “It’s okay,” I said, stopping her. “You guys are almost finished. Moose and his friends are here. I’ll eat with them and see you back at the cabin.”

  “Are you sure? There’s plenty of room.”

  There was absolutely no room. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave her with Teddy and his self-righteous eco-warrior charms, but I was sure I didn’t want to sit with him and I was sure I didn’t want to be sitting there waiting for my food to come out when everyone else was finished and leaving.

  “I’m sure.” This time I gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, relieved but concerned.

  As I made my way to the other dining room, I could feel her looking at me. But by the time I got to Moose’s table, she had turned back around, engrossed in conversation with the woman sitting next to Teddy.

  As I sat, Benjy stood and waved over my shoulder. I turned to look and saw Annalisa coming our way, weaving through the tables.

  Instinctively, I looked at Nola, and saw her eyes narrow as she watched Annalisa. She glanced at me, then turned back around and resumed her conversation.

  Moose leaned close to me. “Benjy asked her to double-check our data.”

  “I got here as soon as I could,” Annalisa said to Benjy, her eyes darting to meet mine, then back to the others. Her face was as somber as Moose’s and Benjy’s. She looked around the room, and I followed her gaze. A lot of the eyes in the room were on her, and I sensed that it was not just aesthetic appreciation. They were staring at our table, reading us. Benjy and Moose seemed to notice it, too. As Annalisa took the seat next to me, the buzz in the room seemed to change pitch.

  Benjy leaned forward over the table, and the rest of us leaned toward him.

  “They know,” he said quietly. “Pete and his beekeeper buddies have been staring daggers at me since I came in.”

  Moose looked around. “Somebody said something,” he whispered, looking at me, then turning to Benjy. “What did you tell Pete?”

  Benjy shook his head. “Nothing. I just said we needed a hand. But he already knew something was up.”

  The buzz in the room became a whisper, and we heard a chair scraping the floor. One of the guys sitting with Pete stood up and slowly made his way to our table.

  Benjy looked at Annalisa. “I hope you’ve got good news.”

  She slowly shook her head.

  “My bees are just about all gone,” the man said, looking down at us. “If you know something more about this, you need to tell us right now. You owe us at least that much.”

  Benjy stood up, working his mouth like he was trying to find a little bit of moisture in there. I met Nola’s eyes across the room, and we both looked up at Benjy.

  “We’re collecting data and analyzing it, Paul, just like I told you,” Benjy said. “We’ll release the results as soon as we’re done.”

  “You already know,” someone else called out. “Why don’t you just tell us?”

  Benjy shook his head, holding out his hands, trying to calm things down. “Now, that’s not true, and just as soon—”

  While Benjy was talking, a cell phone chimed. One of Pete’s beekeeper friends covered one ear and put his phone to the other. Then he shot to his feet. “Those bastards are doing it!” he exclaimed. “They’re bringing in bees from the mainland.”

  “Who is?” Teddy called out.

  “Johnny goddamned Blue. They’re bringing them over on the ferry.”

  Every eye in the place was looking at the beekeeper—then they turned to the windows overlooking the harbor. The ferry was sliding across the water toward the dock, sixty yards away.

  Teddy exhaled, shaking his head. “Son of a bitch,” he said quietly. There was a moment of absolute stillness, except for the silent progress of the ferry on the water. Then half the people in the restaurant surged toward the door.

  The farmers looked up at Teddy, and when he followed, they did, too. Nola looked at me, wondering what to do, but suddenly there were a lot of people between us, and she followed them out the front door before I could tell her to stay put. Tyrique and Dawson shared a look, threw their napkins on the table in unison, and headed out, focused on Teddy. The two suits scrambled to follow them.

  There was a bottleneck at the door, and by the time it started to clear, the rest of the room had gotten up to follow, probably just to watch whatever was going to happen.

  I looked over at Moose.

  Benjy shook his head. “This isn’t good.”

  We got up to follow them, but the door was still jammed. Good thing there wasn’t a fire, I thought. “Follow me,” I said, leading them through the kitchen, toward the back door.

  The dishwasher looked up at us, surprised. “Sorry, you can’t come
back here.”

  “Oops,” I said as we filed past him and out the back door. “My mistake.”

  We got out in front of the crowd and got to the terminal next door just as the ferry was touching the dock. The crowd from the Black Dog was right behind us.

  We ran along the rows of cars waiting in the staging area to get on the ferry. By the time we got to the ramp, it was already down and cars were driving off. The crowd surged forward, Teddy out in front. The car coming off slammed its brakes, almost rear-ended by the car behind it.

  Teddy put his hands on the car’s hood—a bit dramatically, I thought—and peered through the windshield as the driver honked his horn and gave him the finger. Teddy straightened, looking around him as the vehicles streamed off the ferry.

  The guys directing traffic yelled a few words, but at the sight of the crowd they backed up and got on their walkie-talkies.

  There were only a few cars left when a black, unmarked flatbed with a tarp-covered load pulled off. Teddy ran toward it, the rest of the crowd following right behind him. The driver tried to go around him, but Teddy stayed in front of the truck, slamming his hands onto the hood. The driver started honking and yelling, but as the crowd wrapped around the truck, he began to look scared. The rest of the cars pulled around him and sped away.

  I spotted Nola in the crowd, hanging back. She looked scared, too. Off to one side, Tyrique and Dawson were scowling at Teddy. To the other side, the two suits were looking around nervously.

  I pushed through the crowd, stepping up next to Teddy and holding up my hands. “Calm down, everybody,” I shouted over the din. “Let’s not get out of hand.”

  “No!” Teddy shouted. “Don’t calm down! If they’re bringing these bees onto our island, things are already out of hand!”

  The crowd circling the truck roared in agreement. Half a bagel bounced off the windshield, leaving a smudge of cream cheese.

  The driver revved his engine, scared and angry and threatening to drive off regardless of who was in front of him. I knew the scene could easily turn violent.