Kathy Reichs - Virals

A third growl, full throated. This time, the other dogs joined in. The sound was fierce, terrifying.

A flood of adrenaline shot through my body.

Maybe this was a bad idea .

Lowering my gaze, I slowly spread my hands. Stood rock still, urging Whisper to understand. I knew my safety balanced on a knife’s edge.

No sound. No movement.

Blood pounded in my ears. Sweat trickled my back.

Keeping my chin down, I raised my eyelids. Whisper’s gaze locked onto mine. She seemed to hesitate, to debate in whatever way wolves do.

Then, abruptly, she circled to stand with her mate and child. As one, the three glanced at the hole, back at me.

I had permission. I thought. Hoped.

I risked another tentative foot forward. The pack watched intently, but held position.

Quickly, Tory. Your pass will expire .

Moving forward, I looked down into the hole, an abandoned shaft, once boarded over. The brittle wood had just given way.

Ten feet down, a small furry bundle yelped pitifully. Two perfect blue eyes gazed skyward. A wolfdog puppy.

Seeing me, the pup scrambled to its feet and scratched the dirt wall with its small paws, desperate to be reunited with its mother.

Without thinking, I dropped to my stomach, grabbed a ropey vine, swung my legs over the rim of the shaft, and braced my feet against the wall. Death-gripping the vine, I began to lower myself in a modified rappel.

One hop. Two.

A shadow fell across me. I looked up. Three canine faces hung above my head, eyes following my every move. No pressure.

Oh so carefully, I descended.

Three. Four. Five.

Halfway down, my feet encountered a series of narrow shelves. Using them as stair steps, I closed the gap to where the terrified puppy crouched. It barked in excitement, eager for rescue.

When I reached the pup’s level, I sat, catching my breath. My new friend crouched on a broken barrel with Cooper River Boiled Peanuts stamped on its side. He crawled into my lap. Face lick. Adorable.

That’s when I named him. Cooper.

A sharp bark sounded from above. Whisper was growing impatient.

Carefully lifting my cargo, I stood, back to the wall, surveying my options. The shaft was uneven, with protruding rocks and roots. A relatively easy climb.

Easy, if a pack of angry canines aren’t topside, waiting to eat you for lunch.

Cradling the pup in one arm, I began hoisting myself up with the other, one foot at a time. Grab. Pull. Step. Grab. Pull. Step.

Wiggling close, my passenger gave a funny little bark.

“I agree, Coop. Hang on.”

My arms were burning when my face broke the plane of the ground. And came nose-to-snout with a wolf.

Whisper. Jaws inches from my throat.

Moving slowly, I placed Coop on the ground. Mama wolf clamped her teeth on his scruff, lifted, and bounded into the brush.

Two more flashes. The pack was gone.

Trembling, I pulled myself from the shaft and tried to dust off.

I grinned. Mission accomplished, and me not dead.

Still brushing dirt, I looked over at my companions. Hi was hyperventilating. Ben and Shelton were slowly shaking their heads. The collective relief was palpable.

All three made me swear to never act so recklessly again. I promised, but just to placate. I knew, given the circumstances, I’d do it again.

Returning to the beach, I sensed, more than heard, rustling off to my right. I glanced into the woods. Two golden eyes gleamed in the shadows. Whisper. She studied me a moment, then disappeared into the forest.

Perhaps my proudest moment.

Months had passed since that encounter. I’d seen little of Whisper or her pack.

If I found them, would they remember me? Would Coop?

Yes. I was sure of it.

With that happy thought, I was ready to explore.

After allowing Hi a few more seconds to regroup his gut, we strolled over the rise and down the path to the research compound.

And ran smack into trouble.

CHAPTER 6

Hi had been captured by the enemy.

Okay, I exaggerate. But not much.

As we crested the rise, the LIRI complex came into view downslope. A dozen structures stood tightly packed within eight-foot-high chain-link fencing. Glass and steel buildings contained research labs. Aluminum sheds provided storage for equipment, monkey chow, supplies, and vehicles. The perimeter fence had only two openings: the main gate leading to the dock behind us, and a smaller one leading to Turtle Beach.

Hi was standing by the main gate. He wasn’t alone.

“Now he’s done it.” Shelton shielded his eyes as he peered downhill. “We’re gonna catch hell.”

“Crap.” Ben’s voice was tense. “It’s Karsten.”

Of course , I thought. Who else?

“He’s waving us down,” Shelton said. “Anybody else care to run for it?” Sarcastic. There was no point in running. Professor Karsten knew who we were. Worse, who our parents were.

Ugh .

“Let’s go.” I spoke with more confidence than I felt. “Karsten knows we’re allowed to be here if we don’t break the rules. I don’t get why he’s always hassling us.”

Loggerhead is essentially closed to outsiders. But since our parents are employees, the Board permits us to visit as long as we avoid restricted areas and don’t cause problems.

“Dr. K’s never liked us being on the island,” Shelton said. “My dad told me he constantly brings up banning us, but can’t get the votes. The jerk acts like we’re terrorists or something.”

“You did break that ATV.” Ben, deadpan.

“Right.” Shelton’s eyes rolled. “Shelton broke it. Not Ben and Shelton, because Ben is better at hiding in the woods. So only Shelton.” He cuffed Ben’s shoulder. “By the way, you’re welcome, Blue.”

“I said I owe you one.”

We began trekking downhill. To either side I could see nothing but trees. No surprise. No permanent structures exist outside the main facility. Some rough paths crisscross the island, but very few. From the get-go, LIRI was designed to have as invisible a human footprint as possible. The reality comes pretty close.

As we descended, I thought about all the cool research hosted at Loggerhead. The primates are my favorite, but there’s also a stacked marine biology station. That’s where Kit studies his beloved turtles and dolphins. The nature preserve attracts ornithologists and botanists. Butterfly guys, too. Swamptown brings the gator fans. Archaeologists have excavated a few sites on the plateau and in the interior.

An elite confederacy of nerds. My peeps.

By the time Shelton, Ben, and I got to the gate, Karsten had dragged Hi inside the enclosure. At our entry, he spun and angrily gestured us to him.

We obliged. No choice.

Dr. Marcus E. Karsten: Professor and Department Chair, Charleston University College of Veterinary Medicine; Head Administrator, LIRI.

Head Ass, if you ask me. That’s where he kept his , most of the time.

Famous for his work on the Ebola virus, Karsten had an impeccable reputation in animal epidemiology. He supervised all research conducted on Loggerhead.

The man was also a complete tool.

Not much to look at, either. Late fifties. Skinny. Glasses. Dark, thinning hair worn in the ever-popular comb-over. Lab coat pressed so sharply the creases could probably slice cheese.

I’ll give him this: he didn’t treat us like kids. He treated us like criminals.

Karsten and Hi stood in front of Building One, the complex’s largest structure. Inside are the most elaborately and expensively outfitted labs. Hi’s dad works there. So does Kit. The security office is housed there, too. Great.

“Get over here and explain yourselves.”