Weekend - By Christopher Pike Page 0,38

However, there was a more likely possibility, at least to his own mind. Sol had picked up a lot ofsomething in Tijuana, and had stored it in the back of his van. He had assumed that it was drugs Sol would sell for a profit in L.A. But perhaps it had only been an ingredient for a drug. PCP - Angel Dust - required ether for its production. Ether was explosive, highly unstable.

"What do you think, Sol?" Park asked.

He hesitated. "Flynn's idea sounds good."

"You don't have any of your own?"

"I'm no scientist."

"I don't suppose it matters," Park said, hoping to goad him. "The experts will figure out what blew."

Sol stared at the crater. It could easily have swallowed a house. "They'll have a hell of a time doing it."

Shani walked with Kerry to the front door, glancing nervously at Flynn, who seemed to want to speak with her. Park followed briskly, passing them on the porch steps. He had to make a call. Before he contacted the police, he would have to tell Bert's parents that their only son was dead.

But the phone in the front hall was broken, as was the one in the kitchen and the one in the second floor hallway. The explosion must have been somehow responsible.

Park put down the silent receiver. They were thirty miles of desert from nowhere. None of the other kids had come and he was beginning to believe they never would. Their transportation was destroyed. They couldn't even call the outside world. They were stranded.

And his friend was dead. He had been concerned about the girls - how they would take the shock. He hadn't even given himself a chance for his own grief. Surfing would not be the same without Big Bert.

Nothing would.

Sick sorrow rocked his guts. He groped for the bathroom.
Chapter Seven
The hill was taller than it had appeared from a distance. Altitude couldn't be a factor. Nevertheless, the air was unsatisfying, hot and dry, burning her lungs. And the path had gone to the dogs. Tumbleweed clawed through her jeans, irritating her sunburn. Sharp pebbles slipped under and inside her Nike running shoes. The sun would set in minutes but the thermometer would have had no way of knowing. Sweat salty as sea water covered her body. She should have brought water. She should never have come. A snake would bite her next. Stumbling across a boulder, Shani sat down.

Far beneath her feet, two miles in the distance, the Carlton Castle was lit up, window by square window. On the surrounding sandy canvas, the late garage and carport were spilt black ink. The ocean was dark, but the tips of the rolling swells still caught the rays of the fading sun, crashing in orange foam on the deserted beach. Overhead, like torn cotton dipped in red dye, clouds raced to blot out the first stars. Yet, where she sat, there was no wind, no noise, only a deep silence that made her internal turbulence stand out in painful relief.

"I need some air," she had told the others, meaning, I need to get away from you all . Park had told her to be back before dark. There was small chance of that, as the blotted sun was already touching the horizon. Kerry had wanted to read prayers for Bert from the Bible. But it was too soon for her to even mourn properly. And she still hoped, in spite of all reason, that he was alive.

Robin had fainted upon hearing the news. By the time Shani had started on her hike, she had regained consciousness, but all had agreed that she should remain in bed. If only grief had been the sole cause of her collapse. Robin's pulse was unsteady, her skin had a sad colour. She had every symptom of uremia, a build up of urea and other wastes in the blood. Lena was perplexed. Kerry was dropping hints that it was Lena's fault. After all, she said, who was doing Robin's dialysis?

Shani closed her eyes, massaging her aching temples. Another reason she had gone for her walk was to have the necessary solitude to figure out who in their group was both a friend and potential murderer, an analysis she should have completed last November. For maybethey were preparing to kill again. Bert may simply have been the first.

Lena: Definitely the number one suspect. She had both the guts and motive to poison Robin. The Carlton fortune and a greedy