Operation: Survival Page 4

  Ken gave a grunt. He shoveled a spoonful of the oatmeal into his mouth. Then he spit half of it back out.

  The oatmeal was bad. But I didn’t think it was that bad.

  “I knew she’d find a way,” Ken said. He picked up the blob of cereal he’d just spit out.

  Man. Was everyone in the bunk mental-health-challenged in some way?

  Ken wiped the blob with his napkin, and I realized there was a piece of plastic underneath. And inside the plastic was a piece of paper that had been folded until it was the size of a fingernail.

  “We’re not supposed to have any contact with the girls,” Ken explained as he smoothed out the note. “But if you’re smart …” He grinned as he began to read.

  “Anyone want to feel jealous?” he asked when he finished. “Anyone want to see what Janet wrote me?”

  “Janet Russo? No way!” Andrew exclaimed.

  “Oh, yes, my friend.” Ken passed the note across the table.

  “Which one is she?” I asked.

  “The best-looking one in the place,” Ken answered.

  I scanned the tables and spotted a cute girl with her hair in a long braid staring at him. I figured that had to be Janet.

  “Red shirt and braid?” I asked.

  “That’s her.”

  James snagged the note from Andrew. “I can’t believe she wrote you this when Zack’s only been dead for a few months. That’s one cold-hearted chick.”

  “Yeah,” Tim agreed. “Let the guy’s body start to deteriorate a little first.”

  “She wasn’t that into him.” Ken grabbed the note back.

  “You wish,” James answered. “You were sniffing around her the whole time they were together. And she wouldn’t even look at you.”

  And the suspects keep on comin’, I thought. I’d been sure Frank and I would spend our whole time here investigating Saunders. But yesterday it started to seem like Russell and James both had reasons to want Zack dead.

  * * *

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Ken Purcell

  Hometown: Toledo, Ohio

  Physical description: 5′11″, approximately 160 lbs., age 17, brown hair, brown eyes, scar on chin.

  Occupation: Sentenced to Camp Wilderness

  Background: One arrest, one conviction for forgery; father died when he was two; two stepfathers; six stepsiblings.

  Suspicious behavior: Helped Zack get into his mountain-climbing harness the day Zack died.

  Suspected of: The murder of Zack Maguire.

  Possible motives: Zack was going out with the girl Ken wanted.

  * * *

  Now Ken. Could he have killed Zack to have a shot with that Janet girl?

  “She was trying to figure out how to break up with him,” Ken answered.

  Wait. Had Janet and Ken gotten something going while Zack was still alive? Had she told him she wanted to break up with Zack?

  Another thought hit me. Could Janet and Ken have teamed up to murder Zack? Had they both wanted him out of the way?

  I took another look at Janet. She was laughing at something the girl next to her had just said. Hey, the girl next to her was Miss Hanks. Who’d have thunk she could be funny?

  Anyway, Janet was laughing. And her blue eyes were all sparkly. And right then she didn’t look like the kind of girl who could do anything bad to anyone.

  But looks don’t tell the real deal. Every kid in this place—well, except for me and Frank—had done something criminal. You couldn’t tell it by eyeballing them. No one had “arsonist” or “thief” or whatever stamped on their forehead.

  I wanted to follow up on the whole Janet slash Zack slash Ken love triangle deal. But it was time to hike. Ken was a middle-of-the-group hiker, and

  * * *

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Janet Russo

  Hometown: Chowchilla, California

  Physical description: 5′2″, approximately 125 lbs., age 16, long brown hair, blue eyes.

  Occupation: Sentenced to Camp Wilderness

  Background: Two arrests, one conviction for gang violence, attended four high schools in three years, one older brother.

  Suspicious behavior: Unaccounted for at the time of Zack’s death.

  Suspected of: The murder of Zack Maguire.

  Possible motives: She wanted to be with Ken but Zack was in the way.

  * * *

  I—Brian Moya, aka Spuddy—had to be all the way at the back. Which prevented much talking.

  And guess who was back in the way back with me? Yep. Russell. I told you we were going to be BFF. Someday.

  The mountain we were hiking up reminded me of the Outer Limits ski run. Except in reverse. I felt like I was climbing straight up instead of zooming straight down. Which would usually have gotten me breathing a little heavily. But since I was Brian, I made myself pant.

  “Too bad,” I said. Pant. “No girls.” Pant. “On hike.” Pant. Pant. “Anybody.” Pant. “Else.” Pant. “Managed to.” Pant. “Hookup?” Pant. Pant. “Besides Ken?”

  I figured even without Ken around I could still get some info. Don’t ask me why I didn’t see Russell’s reaction coming.

  “Saunders want.” Wheeze. “To know?” Wheeze.

  “No!” Pant. “Man!” Pant. “Just hoping.” Pant. Pant. “Might get.” Pant. “Lucky.”

  Russell didn’t answer for a moment. I didn’t know if it was because he needed all his air for wheezing. Or if he was deciding whether or not to trust me.

  Finally, he started talk-wheezing again. “Some of the guys sneak out at night. Meet up with a girl. Zack was the only one who was all ga-ga. He actually thought he was in love.”

  Russell stopped and retied his shoe. Actually, he pretended to tie his shoe. The shoe was already tied. It was a maneuver that gave him about two seconds of rest. The guy really needed at least a fifteen-minute water and catch-your-breath break.

  But that clearly wasn’t on Saunders’s agenda. He was at the head of the group of guys—no girls on the hike. And he was showing no mercy.

  “Now Ken thinks he’s in love too,” Russell continued. His wheezes were coming in the middle of words now. Not just between them. “Don’t know what it is about that Janet girl.”

  I was about to ask if Russell thought Ken and Janet were sneaking around behind Zack’s back. But a miracle occurred before I could. Saunders actually called the group to a halt. We were about three-quarters of the way up the mountain.

  Saunders strode back down the hill. He stopped when he was about in the middle of the straggling line of hikers. “Look down there,” he ordered.

  I looked. Off the left side of the trail was the sheer rock face of the mountain. The bottom was a long way down. We’d done some serious hiking.

  “As many of you know, a young man was mountain climbing along that stretch of the face not too long ago. And he died down there,” Saunders announced.

  He was the kind of guy who would never have any use for a microphone. His voice boomed and echoed all on its own.

  “The young man’s name was Zack Maguire. He was murdered by the members of his team.”

  Russell’s head shot up. I stared at Saunders.

  “He wasn’t ready for the climb. He was exhausted. And exhaustion makes for mistakes,” Saunders continued. “But Zack would have been ready for that climb if his team had been there for him.”

  Huh? I didn’t see the logic in that.

  “Every time Zack slowed down—on a hike like this one, for example—one of his teammates should have made sure he kept up the pace. Every time Zack slacked off on his assigned laps in the lake, one of his teammates should have made sure he finished them.”

  Saunders shook his head. “Instead of being there for Zack, his team murdered him.”

  I thought it was possible one of Zack’s teammates had killed him. But not the way Saunders was saying. Not by neglecting to force Zack to become some kind of super-fit climb-any-mountain kind of guy.

  I glance
d over at Russell. He was staring down at the long drop to the ground. Was he thinking about what he had done? Was he thinking about how he made sure Zack fell—because he was so sure Zack was some kind of informant?

  I couldn’t tell. Russell didn’t have the word “murderer” stamped on his forehead either. That was something Frank and I were going to have to find out about him. And Ken. And Janet. And Saunders.

  “Let’s have a minute of silence for Zack,” Saunders said. “Let’s use that time to think about what it means to be a real team member. If one of your teammates fails, that means you fail. Remember that. And remember that I have the option of booting an entire team out of this camp if one member isn’t worthy.”

  Is anyone thinking about Zack? I wondered as the minute of silence began. Or is everyone just thinking about keeping their own butt safe and out of juvie? Or jail, I added to myself, thinking of James.

  “All right! To the top of the mountain. Double time!” Saunders ordered.

  Russell was clearly having trouble with single time. I let myself lag, staying even with him.

  James dropped into step beside us. “You heard what Saunders said. You wet-butts are my responsibility. You screw up, I screw up,” He reached out and gave Russell a shove.

  “So let me give you a little pep talk.” He shoved me forward. “Whichever of you two gets to the top last is going to get a lesson in teamwork tonight. Something that will help motivate you.”

  Something like beat you bloody, I figured.

  I knew what I had to do. James was one of our murder suspects. I needed to see exactly how far he would go tonight.

  So I slowed down.

  6 ARE YOU IN?

  Saunders stared at the last few guys struggling up the mountain. Joe was bringing up the rear.

  “If you men don’t make it up here in sixty seconds, you go down to the bottom and start over!” he shouted. He pulled out a stopwatch and clicked it.

  Was he kidding? It had taken us almost five hours to reach the top.

  I watched as Joe put on a burst of speed. I watched as he suddenly stopped and put his hands on his knees and lowered his head. Acting like he could hardly breathe. My gut twisted up.

  I knew what Joe was doing. He was trying to enrage Zack’s murderer. He was trying to see if being the kind of guy who couldn’t keep up would make the killer take some kind of action. A dangerous maneuver. My brother is nothing if not brave.

  “What am I seeing? WHAT. AM. I. SEEING?” James screamed. “Get your sorry butt up here, Moya.”

  “Time!” Saunders shouted.

  Joe was the only guy who hadn’t reached the top.

  “Who are that boy’s teammates?” Saunders asked.

  Slowly, the guys in our bunk raised their hands. Dylan only raised his to the top of his shoulder.

  “Clearly, your teammate needs your support. So all of you can escort him to the bottom of the mountain and back up here. Go, go, go!” Saunders ordered. “That means you, too, Smiley. Your men. Your responsibility.”

  I started down the hill. And walked straight past Joe. If his plan was going to work, I couldn’t interfere. The other guys—even bunk peacemaker Andrew—blasted Joe all the way down the mountain. Calling him every name you’ve ever heard.

  And Joe just took it. Gasping so hard he probably couldn’t have said anything if he wanted to.

  Smiley didn’t add to the Joe-bashing. Brian-bashing, I mean. But he didn’t do anything to stop it, either.

  On the way back up, the group was mostly silent. Even for guys who were in good shape, the second trip up the mountain was hard.

  And the fun didn’t stop once we got back to the top. “Smiley, your team is responsible for dinner and digging latrine holes,” Saunders bellowed when he saw us return. “And why don’t we add kitchen prep to that as well?”

  “Mr. Moya. Mr. Barbour. You start on the holes,” Smiley snapped. “Mr. Jameson,” he said, pointing to Dylan, “fires. The rest of you—chow prep. That means cleaning the fish the other men caught while we were traipsing back down and up the mountain.”

  Somehow I ended up as one of the fish guys. Ken groaned as he sat down next to me. “I thought my legs wouldn’t start hurting until tomorrow.”

  “Steep grade. And a different set of muscles gets pounded going up and down,” I commented.

  “Saunders is a sadist,” Ken said. “The only way I made it the second time was pretending Janet was waiting for me at the top. In a bikini.”

  “I need a Janet.”

  Ken sliced open the belly of a fish with one smooth stroke. He obviously had experience with a knife. “Don’t even think about taking mine,” he answered.

  “I won’t. Not as long as you’re holding that blade,” I told him. “But does she have a friend?”

  “I would ask—but that’s not how I want to spend my Janet time.” Ken started working on another fish. “I still can’t believe that she wants to be with me. When I got that note … It actually said that she’d been thinking about me the whole time she was with Zack.”

  “It still must have busted her up when he died,” I said.

  “I guess.” He quickly corrected himself. “I mean, of course she didn’t want him to end up like that. Lots of people kind of had meltdowns when it happened. Especially the girls. But some guys, too.”

  Ken shook his head. “I was there, you know. When it happened. I still see it sometimes, when I close my eyes. He fell right past me. His mouth was open. Like he wanted to scream. But no sound came out.”

  A shudder ripped through his body. Was he feeling guilty? Did he have anything to feel guilty about—besides wanting Zack’s girlfriend? I didn’t have enough info to say.

  Andrew strolled over. “Fish. I need fish. I’m ready to start cooking. Bam! Bam!” Ken and I both stared at him. “Like that chef. Emeril? Bam!”

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Never mind. Just hand over the fish you’re done with,” Andrew told us.

  “You’re gonna have to wait a minute. We just got started,” Ken said.

  “Well, pick up the pace.” Andrew clapped his hands. “I don’t want to serve Saunders his dinner late. I thought lava was going to start flowing out of his head this afternoon.”

  “I couldn’t believe that stuff he spouted about Zack,” Ken said.

  “Yeah. I don’t get how Zack could have been Saunders’s favorite like Russell was saying.” I slid a fish onto the “done” pile. “He didn’t exactly sound broken up that Zack died. He sounded like he thought Zack practically deserved it.”

  “Russell’s the kind of guy who always thinks something’s going on behind his back,” Andrew said. “He thought I was a snitch for about a second too.”

  Andrew sat down next to Ken. “You were here when Zack was. What do you think? Was he Saunders’s ooo-ooo eee-eee monkey?”

  “If he was, they both deserve Oscars,” Ken answered. “Saunders acted like he hated Zack. And not just because Zack was always slowing the group down.” Ken shoved a gutted fish into Andrew’s hands.

  Andrew dropped the fish and picked up a plate. “Ever seen one of these before?” He twisted the plate back and forth in his hands. “Use it.”

  “The big reason Saunders didn’t like Zack was that Zack never kept his big mouth shut,” Ken continued. “Zack always had a smart answer for everything. Or some better way to do something. Or some reason that Saunders’s philosophy was stupid.”

  “Yeah, I can see why Saunders wouldn’t have him as a pet,” Andrew said. “That speech today … The way he used Zack’s death to give everybody a kick in the pants …”

  “He pretty much said Ken, Russell, and James killed Zack,” I commented.

  “Saunders has said that before. He loves using Zack as part of his little inspirational speeches,” Ken said. “But he was glad Zack died.”

  Ken stared down at his fish as he continued. “No more Zack always questioning him. No more Zack refusing to believe Saunder
s’s lies. Zack just didn’t buy that how good you were at hiking and stuff had anything to do with how good you were as a person.”

  “That guy Brian was saying that some people think Saunders killed Zack. That he did it during the mountain climb so it would be easy to make it look like an accident.” I added a fish to Andrew’s plate.

  “There were a lot of rumors like that right after Zack bought it,” Ken agreed. “Supposedly Saunders had another camp out west. A girl died there. The girl’s parents thought Saunders killed her—or at least pushed her so hard she died. But Saunders paid them off.”

  Interesting. Joe and I hadn’t heard that Saunders paid off the girls’ parents. Guilty conscience? Fear of prosecution? Actually feeling bad about what happened?

  I wasn’t sure. But I was sure it was interesting information.

  “Here comes Smiley,” Andrew warned. “He’s not happy after that public scolding he got from Saunders. So mush, mush, mush! Or whatever you say to speed up fish gutters.”

  I thought Ken and I had been doing a decent job with the fish. But Smiley was all frowns when he stopped in front of us.

  Joe had been doing hard duty as wimpy boy. It was my turn to get in the game. And that meant showing a little attitude.

  “Smile, Smiley,” I coaxed. “As my aunt would say—it’s a waste not to show those pretty dimples.”

  That didn’t get a smile out of him. “Pathetic,” he said, eyeing our pile of cleaned fish. “You men are an embarrassment,” he said. “The whole team is an embarrassment.”

  “You mean your whole team?” I asked. Heaping on some more ’tude. “Doesn’t that sort of mean you’re not doing your job right?”

  Andrew’s mouth dropped open a little.

  “Are you implying your failures are my fault?” Smiley demanded.

  “Hey, I just got here. And I was up to the top of the mountain on time. I don’t have any failures to worry about,” I shot back.

  “No failures.” Smiley crouched down in front of me so he could look me in the eye. “You’re not even out of high school and you’ve been arrested. You’re half a step away from juvie. You don’t consider that a failure?”