Stra…vin…Stravin…
The distant purr of airplane engines snapped him out of it.
* * *
Philby and Willa watched as Charlene made her move.
“Did you see that?” Willa asked.
“I did.”
“Where did she come from?”
“The south side of the runway,” Philby answered in his typical Professor Philby way that angered Willa.
“Talking to you is like talking to a computer.”
“My laptop has a speech component. The dual processor allows—”
“Enough! I have no interest in dual anything. A friend of ours just ran behind a taxiing plane, did a home plate slide under the back of a mini truck, and is currently suspended from what looks like a spare tire.”
“I have eyes,” he said.
“And you’re telling me that doesn’t impress you?”
“She’s the gymnast. Who did you expect to do something like that?”
“What is it with you?”
“What is what with me? It’s Charlene. She does stuff like that. Remember the time outside Wonders of Life?”
“Sometimes you really bug me,” Willa said, contorting herself to get out of the seat and to the door.
* * *
Charlene clung to the spare tire on the truck’s undercarriage, not fully understanding how she’d gotten there. Her back only inches from the asphalt, her fingers dug into the tire tread’s hard rubber, each bump in the road threatening her grip. She disliked her own impulsive tendencies, but had never figured a way around them. She heard a call for action and she acted. It was only in the aftermath of such actions that she had the chance to reflect on her own stupidity.
The truck rolled on—thankfully slowly, no doubt in part because the driver chose to drive with the lights off. The fireworks had been in the midst of the grand finale as she’d reached the truck, possibly explaining why no one had seen her: who could resist a grand finale?
The cruise passengers would be headed back to the ship now. The all-aboard was thirty minutes after the fireworks; the Dream would sail in exactly forty-five minutes. Anyone not on the ship at that time would miss the rest of the cruise.
The truck turned left, leaving the roadway unexpectedly. It bumped off the asphalt, and Charlene lost her grip. She fell into sand on her back and the truck pulled away without her. She rolled into the nearby bushes and tried to collect herself as the truck’s brake lights flashed red and the brakes squealed. The truck slowed to a stop in an area heaped with piles of sand and gravel. The driver cut the wheel sharply; the truck stopped again and then began backing up.
Movement to Charlene’s left. She leaned back behind the cover of the vegetation.
“Psst!” she signaled when she saw it was an out-of-breath Willa. Behind her, equally out of breath, came Philby.
The two hunkered down next to Charlene and tried to speak.
“What…were…you…thinking?” panted Willa.
“I wasn’t,” said Charlene. “That happens with me sometimes.”
“They’re backing up to a boat,” Philby said.
“To deliver the crate to the Dream,” Charlene said. “There’s no way we’re going to stop it.”
“We’re at a distinct disadvantage,” said Philby. “They outnumber us, and the boat is a Boston Whaler, so it’s not like there’s anywhere to hide on it.”
“What’s in the crate?” Charlene asked Philby.
“As if he knows,” said Willa, still not pleased with Philby.
“I don’t know,” Philby admitted. “But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s a bear.” The girls looked at him skeptically. “Notice the air holes top and bottom. Whatever it is, it’s alive. The size of the crate suggests an animal in excess of six feet and, judging by the difficulty six guys had in moving it, three to five hundred pounds—i.e., a beast.”
“But why so secret?”
“I’m as confused as you are. The presence of the Cast Members suggests it’s legit—”
“Unless these are the same Cast Members Finn saw with Tia Dalma,” said Charlene. She quickly recounted what little she knew of Finn’s encounter, which wasn’t much.
“If they’re legit,” Philby said, seemingly ignoring for now what Charlene had just told them, “then the secrecy would be easily explained: the company wanted to bring a surprise onto the ship and didn’t want guests knowing about it. A performing lion, maybe, like in Vegas?”
“And if not legit?” Charlene pressed.
“Then we’ve got trouble,” Willa said, “because whatever’s in there is big. Big as in dangerous. More hyenas? A wild boar?”