Читать книгу Mysteries in Our National Parks: Escape From Fear: A Mystery in Virgin Islands National Park - Gloria Skurzynski - Страница 11

Erh er erh er eeeerrrr!

The noise pierced Jack’s brain like a jolt of electricity. In a flash Forrest was up, peering out his window. Through half-opened eyes, Jack could see the sky had lightened to the color of silver as morning broke across the horizon of St. John. Forrest, in shorts and T-shirt, craned to glimpse the source of the noise.

Erh er erh er eeeerrrr!

“Man, what is that?” Forrest asked.

“Go back to bed,” Jack moaned. “It’s just a rooster.”

“A rooster? What’s a rooster doing outside our hotel?”

Jack yawned a gaping yawn and flung an arm over his eyes. “We’re in a motel, not a hotel, remember? Haven’t you ever heard a rooster crow before?”

“There aren’t many animals in our dorm—unless you count the juniors and seniors,” Forrest snickered.

When the rooster crowed again, Jack wrapped his pillow firmly around his ears. “It’s 5 a.m.,” he groaned. “My body clock says it’s two o’clock. Go to sleep.”

Although Forrest kept muttering beneath his breath, Jack could make out every word. “My soccer league has stayed in plenty of bottom-of-the-barrel hotels, but I’ve never had to endure a dump like this.”

“Quit whining,” Jack retorted. “That’s all you’ve done since we found you.”

“I’m not whining, I’m commenting.”

“Then quit commenting and go to sleep.”

Forrest slipped beneath the thin cotton sheet. Bed springs groaned as he turned on his right side, flipped to his left, then back to his right once more. Jack was just drifting off when Forrest’s husky whisper pulled him back. “Jack?”

“Hmmmm?”

There was a pause, then a muffled, “Never mind.”

Closing his eyes, Jack tried to ignore Forrest, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched in the room’s half-light. Forrest kept staring, watching, waiting. Jack’s parents would want him to try to draw Forrest out since he wouldn’t tell them anything more about his cryptic message. Running to? they’d asked. What did that mean? But even Ashley hadn’t been able to get him to talk. And now, in the middle of the night, Forrest seemed to want to chat. Figured. Pulling the pillow off his face, Jack sighed. “OK. What?”

“Do you…do you think your parents will keep me? Or will they turn me over to the authorities?”

“I don’t know,” Jack answered. “Why couldn’t you ask me all this before we went to bed?”

“I didn’t feel like talking then. I do now. So what do you think?”

“It depends on what your parents decide. Since my dad couldn’t get through to them at the embassy last night, we don’t know anything for sure.”

“The embassy will open soon. I know my parents, and they’ll let me stay with your family until they come to retrieve me. But the question is, will your folks go through the hassle of keeping me till then?” He paused and added, “I really need to know.”

And I really need to sleep, but you don’t care, do you, Jack groaned inwardly. Pale daylight sliced through the cheap curtains, creating a latticework of shadows on the walls. Jack raised up on his elbow and faced Forrest’s outline. “We take in kids all the time. My folks are registered as temporary-care foster parents.” With a sinking feeling, he put into words what he’d hoped wouldn’t be true. “I bet you’ll stay.”

“Good!” Forrest sighed. “That’s good. I can’t be locked up. It would ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? Are you going to talk in riddles again? Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

Forrest didn’t answer, but Jack could see him shaking his head.

“Are you worried about what’s going to happen when your folks find out you’ve run off? I mean, are you going to be grounded for life or something?” He figured Forrest would get in major, spectacular trouble for taking off on an airplane and making his parents fly after him all the way from Paris. If Jack ever pulled a stunt like that, his mom and dad would lock him up and throw away the key.

“Grounded?” Forrest snorted. “I’ve never been grounded in my life. No, I’m not worried about that. I know how to handle adults.”

That arrogant response irritated Jack, so he said, “You mean your parents won’t even care?”

“Of course they’ll care—my father will be livid. My mother will probably just cry and tell me how much I’ve disappointed her. But you know what? They’ve disappointed me. Look at my skin!” he cried, jutting out his arm as if Jack could discern something important in the dimness. “They always told me it didn’t matter that I was half black because I was their chosen son. They said I had no past, only a future. I used to believe them. But they don’t know what I found out….” His voice broke off suddenly. Jack waited as Forrest lay on his bed, unmoving, mute.

Jack pushed himself into a sitting position. The thin sheet draped like a tent between his knees as he tried to think how to keep Forrest talking, because all this evasiveness was making Jack more and more curious. “So…you won’t get into much trouble when they come and get you, right? You’re lucky.”

“It’s not ‘they’—it’s ‘she.’ My father will send my mother. She does his errands. He’s an important diplomat, remember?” Forrest let out a loud sigh. “Look, the fact is, I can’t afford to trust you or anyone. I don’t even know you—you’re just somebody I met on the plane.” Rolling over, he clutched his covers and pulled them over his chest. “Just forget this whole conversation.”

“Wait a minute—back up. Saying you can’t trust me,” Jack sputtered, “that’s an insult.”

“No. I can’t reveal anything. It could be dangerous.”

“How? Are you guarding some kind of nuclear secret or something and the spies are trying to snag you and if you tell me they’ll have to kill us both?” Jack made it sound as ridiculous as possible.

“The less you know, the better.”

Even though it was too dim for Forrest to see, Jack rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to believe that a guy like Forrest, with his preppy manners and perfect clothes, could be involved in something dangerous. Sure, Forrest had enough spare cash in his account to hop on a plane—First Class—and come to St. John, which meant he lived a very different life. Jack could believe “different.” But to be involved in something dangerous? He wondered if Forrest IV had a clue how absurd he sounded. He didn’t even talk like a kid—more like some snooty college professor. “OK, don’t tell me if you don’t want to,” Jack said, frustrated, “but I know my parents would try to help you—”

“Do not repeat anything I told you, understand?” Forrest’s voice chilled as he put a space between each word. “I mean it, Jack. I may have said too much—

OK, that’s my fault. But I expect you to keep your mouth shut. Unless you’re a squealer.” He paused. “Are you?”

For a moment, the question hung in the air. Finally, Jack whispered, “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” With his back toward Jack, Forrest clutched his pillow and thumped it hard. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”

“Hey—maybe this time I won’t let you sleep.”

Silence.

“I’ll shut up if you tell me about this big secret you’re carrying around.”

More silence. Jack watched as Forrest’s sides rose and fell in sudden, rhythmic breathing. He wasn’t asleep—no one could nod off in seconds like that.

But it let Jack know he’d been dismissed. As far as Forrest was concerned, the conversation was over.

Sliding back down onto his hot mattress, Jack kept his eyes focused on the slowly whirling ceiling fan overhead, forcing his mind onto other things—good things—like snorkeling in the bays around St. John. He made a mental checklist of the supplies he’d need: film, check; camera lenses and filters, check; sunscreen, check. Without that, Jack—unlike Forrest whose skin was naturally dark—would broil like a lobster. Forrest, the guy with the big mystery. What could he be running to?

The question dimmed in Jack’s mind as he drifted back to sleep, dreaming of Forrest IV being chased into the Caribbean Sea by an enormous, crowing rooster.

Knocking reverberated through the room. Jack heard the door open and close, and then his father’s voice said, “Time to get up. Your mother has a meeting at Park Headquarters. Forrest, good for you.”

Forrest, good for you—what did that mean? Jack struggled to open his eyes. The clock next to him read 8:00. Forrest stood there, already dressed, looking as pressed and as perfect as he had on the plane, his shampooed hair still damp and curling in tight ringlets. “Good morning, Mr. Landon,” he said. “Were you able to get in touch with my parents this morning?”

“I tried to contact the embassy again, but I’m having a lot of trouble getting an international line on that pay phone down in the courtyard.”

Since Steven had left the door wide open, the sounds and smells of St. John tumbled inside: The low rumble of trucks, the chattering of birds, the air tinged with lemon. As Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed, he rubbed his belly sleepily.

“Forrest and I will meet you in the courtyard. Move it, son. We need to plan our day.”