Wake Up Missing Read Free

old plume hunter’s camps—I been known to spend a night or two in those when weather comes in fast.”
    â€œYou sleep out on some island by yourself?” Ben raised his eyebrows. “Don’t people think that’s weird?”
    His aunt elbowed him, but Molly laughed. “Doesn’t much matter what they think. You can’t let other people decide who you’re going to be.”
    She peered into the tangled branches. “Look close in here. You’ll see a couple poachers’ huts.” Weathered wooden boards showed through the trees.
    â€œThere was something about poachers in the newspaper.” Mom’s voice wobbled, but Molly didn’t seem worried.
    â€œYep. They go after alligators. Plume birds. Sometimes endangered butterflies. But you stay outta their way and you’re okay.” The airboat drifted toward the trees, and we had to duck to keep our heads out of the branches.
    Molly started the engine again and brought us through a wide tunnel of mangroves. “Here we are. . . .” She hit the throttle as we pushed out of the trees, onto an open lake. A huge island stretched in front of us. There was a dock, a modern-looking building that looked half hotel and half hospital, and an older building that might have been a garage or airplane hangar.
    The airboat drifted up to the dock, where a man with curly brown hair waited in shorts and a faded blue golf shirt. Two kids who looked about my age stood behind him—a boy with dark skin and wire-rimmed glasses and a short, skinny girl with abouncy, dark-brown ponytail. She plopped down on the dock and plunked her feet into the murky water, while the curly-haired guy waved us in. “Welcome, welcome, everyone. Good trip, Molly?”
    â€œJust fine.” She looked like she was about to say something else, when an osprey swooped down from a dead tree and dove straight into the water.
    The girl jumped up, water dripping down her pale ankles. “That bird’s got a fish!”
    In its talons, the bird clutched a fish nearly as large as itself. But the fish was fighting back. Its tail slapped the water as the osprey tried to take off with it.
    â€œWhat kind of fish is that?” Ben asked.
    â€œLooks like a snook,” Molly said, squinting. The sun flashed on the splashing water as the fight continued. “Maybe a bigger one than that bird can handle.”
    I’d seen birds catch fish before on the docks at home, but never a fish that size. Molly was right; it was
too
big. No matter how many times the osprey tried, how hard it pumped its wings, it couldn’t fly. In fact, the bird looked exhausted, and the fish was starting to pull it down into the water. “Why doesn’t the bird let go?”
    â€œCan’t,” Molly said. “Has its talons in too deep.”
    I could feel the osprey’s panic as it struggled. We watched as bird and fish battled in the glittering water, until finally, the osprey went under for the last time and disappeared.
    â€œWhoa,” Ben whispered.
    â€œIt truly couldn’t let go, and the fish overpowered it.” Mollyshrugged, as if this sort of thing happened all the time here, not just on TV nature shows. “Sometimes the prey wins.”
    Finally, we turned our attention back to the man on the dock as he tied the airboat to a post.
    Dr. Mark Ames. Back then, I thought he looked a little like my uncle Steve, with dimples and a young face, younger than the rest of him.
    â€œWelcome to the clinic, Ben . . . Cat. I want you to meet Quentin and Sarah.” He gestured toward the two kids who’d been waiting with him. “They arrived two weeks ago, and they’re already feeling quite a bit better, so they’ll help me out giving you and your parents the grand tour. You can leave your suitcases and backpacks right here on the dock; our orderlies will take them to your rooms. Should we start with the pool?”
    â€œThe