Sligger Island Page 3

  Eaver shrugged. “Maybe. Fishing in the cove?”

  “No, shooting guns. He’s taking a couple guys out to Wrecker Island where no one can hear the noise.”

  “Wrecker Island? That’s way out there in the ocean.”

  “I know, but it’d probably only take about an hour to get there. I thought it sounded like fun.” He took in a forkful of coleslaw.

  She shook her head. “Naw, that sounds more like a guy thing. But you go on and spend a day with your friends. Weather should be nice tomorrow.”

  “Okay, as long as you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Go have some manly gun fun. I’ll hang out with Momma or something.”

  “Alright.”

  Eaver watched her boyfriend continue to enjoy his lunch. She wanted to stay and eat with him, but she was needed back at the restaurant to help wait on customers.

  “I’ve gotta get back,” she pouted. “But I wanted to stop by real quick and bring you lunch.” She bent down and gave him a kiss. “Love you, Sheriff.”

  “Love you too, sweetie. And thank you. Tell Momma and Cinch it’s great.”

  “Naturally,” she grinned. Then she headed for the door.

  She could not stop thinking about that marine biologist flipping her hair around to flirt with her man. That ol’ hussy would go to the island with him, she thought. Then she dismissed the notion; Denise Baddington wouldn’t even know about the boat trip. Unless Mason had mentioned it to her in the station today. But even if he did tell her about it, he would never take her out there with him.

  …Would he?

  He was a loyal, faithful man, Eaver knew that. But she also knew how crafty and persuasive a woman could be when it came to getting something she wanted. A moment of unfounded insecurity took hold of her.

  She turned around just as she got to the door. “You know what? On second thought, I think I will go with you guys tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Mason beamed, pleased to hear it. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Early the following morning, Mason and Eaver piled into his old, blue Mazda. Making sure they had the cooler, water, sunscreen, and bug spray with them, Eaver drove them over to Danny Young’s house on the inlet. They arrived at the modest, white Colonial, parking the car to the side.

  Danny was on the side of the house to greet them. “Hey, you two,” he welcomed. “Come on around the back, we’re loadin’ the boat up.”

  Mason grabbed the cooler from the back seat, then Eaver gathered the rest and shut the car door. The couple followed their friend through the yard and down the slope toward the water.

  The large motorboat was moored in the shallow inlet at the edge of Danny’s back yard. Mason had never been on this boat before, as it belonged to Danny’s unfriendly father. But now that Ricky was dead, the boat – along with the house, the truck, and the grocery store – became Danny’s.

  As they approached the thirty-four-foot dual-console boat, Mason recognized the two people that would be joining them today. He was a little surprised: they were the town’s two remaining drug dealers, Mitch Haverson and Jesse Reed.

  The two young men were stowing green duffel bags onto the boat when they caught sight of Mason and Eaver coming down the hill with Danny. The reactions on their faces indicated they were just as shocked as Mason was to be going out to sea with each other.

  There was no bad history between the three of them. Yes, Mitch and Jesse used to work for the town bully and delinquent, Malcolm Gibbs, selling marijuana that they grew in their secluded greenhouse. Yes, Malcolm had assaulted Mason a few times over the years. And yes, even with Malcolm dead and Mason being the new sheriff, Mitch and Jesse were still selling pot.

  But despite Mason’s torrid past with Malcolm, he got along well with Mitch and Jesse. All he asked was that they kept their product out of Sweetboro. Mitch and Jesse would never admit they were still growing marijuana, but they received Mason’s message nonetheless. They did their business in outlying towns that were at least forty-five minutes away.

  “What’s up, fellas?” said Mason. “How’re you guys doing?”

  Mitch stood in the boat. “Hey there, Sheriff. We didn’t know you were coming with us.”

  “Surprise,” Danny said. “Last time I talked to you guys, I hadn’t invited them yet.”

  “Fine by us,” said Mitch, shrugging his thin shoulders. He looked to his partner, who nodded in agreement. “I didn’t really peg you two as gun enthusiasts.”

  “Eh,” Mason shrugged. “They’re fun to shoot sometimes. Besides, I haven’t once had to use my sidearm since I became sheriff. This’ll give me a chance to finally shoot something.”

  Jesse sniggered. “Sweet.”

  Eaver was unsure of spending the day with these two. She had grown up with them since junior high school, and knew them well enough. But part of her was still guarded because they used to be buddies with the worst character in the county. Since Mal had died, however, Mitch and Jesse had been low-key, non-disruptive, and actually friendly to everyone in town.

  She looked at the two of them together. They could have been twins. Both young men had the same skinny frames, similar faces, and matching short, brown hair. Except Mitch’s hairstyle was a clean, buzz-cut look while Jesse’s hair was a little longer, shaggier and tousled.

  “How’re you doin’, Eaver?” Jesse said with a friendly voice.

  Eaver gave a relaxed wave. “I’ve been good, Jesse, thank you. And you?”

  “You know, hangin’ in there, takin’ it day by day.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with that,” she stated.

  Mason gestured toward the canvas duffel bags. “I take it that’s where the guns are?”

  Mitch beamed proudly. “Yep, the ‘artillery bags’. And we brought beer, too! A shitload!”

  A recipe for disaster, thought Mason, laughing. “Of course! Guns and beer… goes together like peanut butter and jelly.”

  “Or crab cakes and ketchup,” added Eaver.

  The rest of the group cringed at her bizarre obsession with putting ketchup on everything. “Yuck,” said Danny. “I still can’t understand your ketchup fetish.”

  “The redder the better,” she boasted, enjoying the fact that she was grossing them out.

  Once everybody’s gear was loaded onto the boat, Danny turned the key to start the engine. The propellers grumbled to life on the twin outboard motors. Danny took one last look to be sure he had brought the extra gas cans to get them home, then he backed the boat away from the shore.

  The motorboat chugged through the inlet, slow and serene. The group watched the herring gulls root through the tufts of cord grass at the water’s edge while they passed. A couple of herons were spotted as well. Soon the boat was out of the inlet and into the open waters of the ocean. Danny opened up the throttle, and the group was soon speeding along the waves.

  “So what all do you have in there?” asked Mason, nodding at the duffel bags.

  Mitch raised his eyebrows and smiled mischievously. “All sorts of fun stuff. Got an M4 Carbine, an HK416, an AR-15, high-grade ammo, and some explosives.”

  Danny felt uneasy hearing this. “Wait, you brought explosives on the boat?” There was concern in his voice.

  “Relax,” Mitch assured, “it’s harmless until the two components are mixed together.”

  “That makes me feel so much better,” said Danny sarcastically, although it did ease his mind knowing that.

  When they were ten miles out, Mason noticed that Eaver had been very quiet. He studied her to make sure she was okay. She seemed fine; there was no sign of queasiness or discomfort on her face. Maybe she was just indifferent about coming along today.

  By the time they were about twenty miles out, Mason could finally tell that Eaver was enjoying being on the water. Face to the wind, she had her eyes closed and wore a peaceful smile. Mason liked how her hair looked in the airstream. The natural dark-brown blew back with the subtle streaks of highligh
ting she had added, everything intertwining in the air so that it all looked like one lighter tone.

  This was going to be an enjoyable day. Mason dug a bottle of water out of the cooler and opened it. He sipped it while continuing to admire his surroundings. The ocean all around the traveling motorboat glistened in the sunlight, seemingly welcoming them as they made their way to Wrecker Island.

  CHAPTER 7

  Thirty miles away from the mainland, the sizable island loomed before them. Half a mile wide, it had a steep, rocky peak on the north end and leveled out to a flat, lush region to the south. Wary of the unseen, submerged reefs surrounding the island, Danny slowed the engine. It was high tide, so he was safe from the rock and coral, but he still thought it best to navigate the shallows with caution.

  He brought them to a small beach on the north shore. Cutting the engine, Danny coasted in until the hull nuzzled the sand beneath the breaking waves. “All ashore,” he said.

  The group brought their gear to the front of the boat. Danny and Mitch jumped from the bow and landed on the soft beach. Then they reached up to collect the supplies from their friends on board. After the coolers and duffel bags were unloaded, Danny called for the mooring line that would tether the boat securely. Mason tossed it to him, and he tied the rope to a palm tree on the beach.

  Mason and Eaver had never been on Wrecker Island before. They had seen it from a distance while boating closer to the mainland, but this was their first time seeing the island up close and actually setting foot on it.

  “It’s pretty here,” Eaver remarked, looking all around her. The short beach they were on was framed with palm trees and grass. Just beyond that the terrain jutted upward and became a high mount of rock. To their right they could see the island coastline stretch out and become a thick, verdant lowland of trees.

  Mason agreed with her. “Yeah, this is cool.”

  The sound of beer cans being cracked open drew their attention back to the group. Mitch took a swig of cold beer and set the can down on the sand. Then he unzipped one of the duffel bags and spread it open. Everyone stepped closer to look. There was a Heckler & Koch HK416 assault rifle, an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle, a Colt M4 Carbine, a pile of loaded magazines, and half a dozen boxes of different ammo inside.

  Mitch turned to Mason. “Go ahead, Sheriff, you can have first pick.”

  “Come on, guys, I’m off the clock. You can call me Mason.”

  “Okay, Mason. What’s your pleasure?”

  Mason scanned the assault rifles and shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t tell the difference between any of them.”

  “Oh,” said Jesse. “Let me help you out. This one’s awesome, that one’s awesome, and that one is awesome.”

  The others laughed.

  “This is my favorite,” Mitch announced, holding up the HK416. “This is the same gun SEAL Team Six used to kill Osama Bin Laden!”

  “Really?” said Eaver, her eyes widening a bit. “That’s pretty cool.”

  “Alright,” Mason grinned, “then that’s the one I wanna try.” He turned his head to face Eaver. “And you probably do too.”

  She was admittedly curious. She had never fired anything besides shotguns and pistols, and the chance to fire a semi-automatic was appealing. Even if it was just once. “Sure I do,” she said. “I’ll shoot it.”

  Mitch handed the HK416 to Mason, then grabbed the M4 for Jesse and the AR-15 for himself. He took a moment to make sure the magazines were full, and distributed the correct ones to their respective shooters.

  Finally he produced a box of earplugs. “Don’t forget these,” he stated. “You’re definitely gonna want earplugs shooting these babies.” The others reached in, took pairs of the spongy plugs, and rolled them thin before setting them in their ears to expand.

  Mason hated the vacuous sound that wearing earplugs brought, but after a while he always got used to it. He kept the HK416 pointed safely at the ground while he watched Mitch trot to the edge of the beach. Once Mitch found a suitable target – a foot-long section of tree bark – he propped it up in the sand and returned to the others.

  “Okay, now,” he demonstrated. “Take your safety off whenever you’re ready, pull back on the bolt, and hold it steady against your shoulder. She’s gonna have a kick. Here, me first.” Mitch took his stance and raised his AR-15. “Remember, these are semi-autos so they’ll fire every time you hit the trigger. Always aim away from people; gun safety, y’all.” Then he let loose on the target, shredding the bark with a dozen rounds.

  “Hell yeah!” said Jesse. “Now me.” He scanned the beach for a new target, spotting a lone piece of driftwood. Pulling the M4 to his shoulder, he released the safety and unloaded until the driftwood was a heap of splinters.

  While Mason took his turn with the HK416, Eaver brought out her phone to take pictures. She noted that she had no signal, which did not surprise her since they were so far out to sea. She snapped a few shots of Mason firing rounds into a dead tree stump.

  After half an hour of shooting, the group decided it was time for something a little more exciting. They were ready to try the exploding targets.

  Mitch knelt down next to the second duffel bag and opened it. He pulled out a .223 Remington bolt-action rifle, some more ammo, and his Tannerite kit. The kit contained plastic containers of ammonium nitrate, packets of aluminum powder, and an assortment of jars.

  Mitch opened a mixing jar and began to measure out the correct amounts of the ingredients. He poured them in, using one teaspoon of aluminum powder per pound of tiny ammonium nitrate pellets, and shook them together thoroughly in the jar until the contents were a charcoal gray. Then he emptied the compound into smaller plastic jars, which would be the target charges.

  He held up one of the charges, turning the jar so his friends could see the orange label with the printed bulls-eye. “Here ya go,” he beamed. “Aim for the center, and ka-boom!”

  “Cool,” said Danny. “Let’s do this!”

  The group moved up the hill a little to get closer to the stony face. Mitch placed one of the targets atop an outcrop of rock. He then backed away, bringing the others with him. When they were about seventy feet from the target, he stopped.

  “Okay,” he said, “who wants first shot?”

  Jesse held up his hand, beer bottle and all. “Me, man!”

  Mitch handed the rifle to his friend and held Jesse’s beer. Jesse loaded a round, locked the bolt, and took aim. He took his time centering the target in the scope sight, not wanting to waste his bullet. Then he squeezed the trigger.

  The target exploded with a bright flash and a large cloud of white smoke. The wave from the resounding boom was felt by the group, making them howl out loud.

  “Me next!” said Danny. Jesse loaded another round in the chamber for him and handed the rifle over. Danny waited for Mitch to run back to the rock, set down another charge, and return. Then Danny pointed the rifle and found the orange label in the scope. He held the weapon as steady as he could, but when he pulled the trigger the bullet missed. It ricocheted somewhere toward the ocean with a sharp ping.

  Mason stiffened. “Ooh, don’t do that,” he warned. “We don’t want to have a bullet bouncing back in our direction.”

  “I got this,” claimed Eaver. She held her hand out to Danny. “My turn.”

  Mason was less concerned about their safety with the Remington in Eaver’s hands. He knew she had shot rifles before, and that she was a good shot. Watching her collect a bullet from the box, chamber it, and draw the scope to her right eye, he could not help but smile admiringly.

  Eaver squeezed the trigger, and her round struck the target. The charge detonated with another thunderous blast of bright, white smoke. Again the sonic wave was felt in the chests of the nearby shooters.

  “Awesome!” Jesse exclaimed. “Nice shot.”

  “I’m next,” stated Mitch. The rest of the group watched him trot back to the target zone to set up his charge. When he leaned down with the explosive, he paused
. Then he looked back to the others. “Hey guys, you gotta come check this out!”

  Curious to see what had caught Mitch’s interest, the others walked up to join him at the rock face. As they neared, they could see what he was looking at. The explosions had blasted open some surface rock to reveal a fissure beneath.

  “Cool,” said Mason, plucking his earplugs. “We opened a cave.”

  The rest of the group also removed their earplugs to better hear each other. They gazed at the dark opening, which was about five feet high and one and a half feet wide. “I wonder how far back it goes,” said Danny.

  “Let’s see,” Eaver responded. She pulled her phone from her pocket and activated the flashlight app. The bright LED light from her phone’s flash came on, and she leaned down to look inside the fissure.

  The phone illuminated the interior, showing that the fissure only went back a couple of feet. Beyond that was a vast, empty chamber. They had apparently discovered a hidden cavern inside the rock. “Oh, you all have to see this.”

  She handed the phone to Mason, who leaned in to take a look. “Oh wow,” he said. “It’s huge.”

  “Lemme see,” said Mitch. He took his turn with the light and had a look inside.

  “We should go in there,” suggested Eaver.

  Mason was reluctant. “I don’t know… the rock might be too unstable to be safe.”

  Danny peered inside and studied the thick limestone. “Looks pretty darn solid. I’m with Eaver.”

  “C’mon, guys,” Eaver said excitedly, like a wound-up kid. “Let’s go inside and check it out!”

  CHAPTER 8

  After retrieving a couple of flashlights from Danny’s boat, the group was ready to explore the cavern. Single file, they stepped into the narrow fissure and cautiously moved through the opening in the rock.

  The cavern inside was absolutely breathtaking. It was hollowed out about seventy feet above them, with scant light coming in from small openings in the rock ceiling. The dome of limestone met with a sizeable pool of water from the ocean. At the opposite end of the cavern the group could see a distant window of daylight coming from a tunnel leading out to the open sea.