Depth Perception Read online

  “Good point.” Even though I completely supported cleaning up the park, nothing could ever make picking up other people’s junk as fun as cruising around in our sub.

  Noah and I said our good-nights to Sam and Amy, then fell into the stream of guys heading back to the boys’ campsite. Since we didn’t have a super camper like Amy on our side, none of the guys had bothered to build a campfire. Needless to say, the area was pretty dark and also a little eerie as people used the glow from their phones on flashlight mode to make their way to their tents.

  After Noah and I climbed inside ours, Noah’s phone still illuminated the interior. He lay on his stomach and tapped at his screen.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m getting the locations of the other wrecks in the lake. Maybe there’s something else we can check out in the sub.”

  “You can get online?” People had been complaining all day about the weak cell signal in the area. Talk about roughing it.

  “Shhh! Keep it down, man. If everyone finds out the signal is decent over here, they’ll be crowding our tent for the rest of the trip.”

  “All right,” I agreed, stretching out on my sleeping bag and glancing over at his screen. “What did you find out?”

  “There’s a cool scuba diving site that has them all laid out.” Noah pulled up a map of the lake and tilted his screen toward me. Around eight tiny triangles were scattered across the blue area.

  I pointed to a triangle beside the island. “That’s the armored truck, right?”

  “Yup.” Noah tapped on the arrow and several images of the truck came up. He scrolled through shots from different angles, some with scuba divers posing in front of and inside the wreck. There was even a thumbnail image linking to the video I’d seen where divers filled part of the rear compartment with air.

  Noah went back to the map. “Trouble is, most of the wrecks are on the other side of the lake.”

  I pointed to one of the far markers. “I think that’s the school bus.”

  Noah tapped the arrow, and, sure enough, dozens of images of the sunken bus filled the tiny screen. It seemed that my diving class wasn’t the first to come up with the idea of sitting in the seats for a group shot.

  “That would be cool to see,” Noah said.

  I nodded. “It is.”

  Noah went through the other markers. He brought up pictures of the sunken airplane, an old army jeep, a rusted pickup truck, an aluminum camper with the windows and doors missing, and two run-down sheds, one of which leaned more than the Tower of Pisa. From the looks of their frailty, they must have been in use way back when the lake was still a rock quarry. They might even have stored explosives back in the day. Unfortunately, the Leaning Shack of Carlopa was the only other sunken object within range of our sub’s battery.

  “I guess we could check it out,” Noah said half-heartedly. “If it hasn’t fallen over by now.”

  “We still haven’t tested the drone,” I said. “We could send it through one of the windows.”

  “I still want to fly it into the back of the armored truck,” Noah said with a grin. “Maybe there’s a secret compartment someone missed.”

  “You just saw all those pics of people inside the thing,” I shot back. “You don’t think someone’s thought to look for a secret compartment before?”

  Noah shrugged. “You never know.”

  “First of all, like you said, any cash underwater for that long is bound to have disintegrated by now. And second, who knows if that’s even a real armored truck?”

  Noah raised an eyebrow.

  I shook my head. “I mean… I know it’s a real armored truck. But what if it was just placed there for scuba divers, like all the other stuff? My dad could’ve made up that whole story. He didn’t even know about the name Boldero until you showed him the footage.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, he was having way too much fun up there in front of everyone tonight.”

  Noah nodded. “You could be right. But then why is the truck the only vehicle on its side? And you saw how the front was all banged up.”

  I opened my mouth to reply but realized I didn’t have an answer.

  Noah switched off his phone, and the tent went dark. I heard his sleeping bag rustle as he climbed inside. “Either way, I say sending the drone into the truck is more exciting than using it to look in some old shed.”

  “You’re right there,” I agreed. “And the truck won’t possibly collapse, trapping our drone inside.”

  “Man, I didn’t think of that,” Noah said. “Now I definitely vote truck.”

  I climbed into my own sleeping bag and went over the launching of the drone in my mind, visualizing everything that could possibly go wrong and what we could do to prevent those scenarios. Just as I’d pictured the shed collapsing, I was doing much better anticipating and planning than I ever had before. Maybe I had finally conquered my act-first-think-later instinct. Then again, maybe not. After all, I didn’t think about going to the bathroom first before zipping up the tent and bundling up in my sleeping bag.

  I sighed and slowly climbed out of my bag. Noah’s breathing had already slowed, so I knew he was asleep. I did my best to get out of the tent as quietly as possible—no easy task when every zipper movement seems as loud as a chain saw in the still of the night.

  After managing to climb out without waking my tentmate, I made my way to the camping area’s restroom and shower facility. Since the moon was full and there weren’t phone screens glowing everywhere, I could see well enough without my own phone’s flashlight.

  I swung by the lakeshore on my way back. Bright moonlight glinted off the water, making it look as if I were standing in a black-and-white photograph.

  Movement caught my eye, and I instinctively brought up my phone. My mind raced back to Andrew Foger’s bear comment. I was ready to switch on the light. I don’t know if that would have scared off a bear, but hey, it was all I had on me.

  My finger froze over the button on the screen when I realized the motion wasn’t a bear. Someone was walking around by the docks. I took a couple of steps forward and saw a tall figure leaning over our sub. Several small flashes of light illuminated the Advance, as well as the person taking photographs with his phone. It was Mr. Jefferson.

  I crept back into the shadows of the tree line as he left our dock and moved toward his own. I watched him untie his kayak, climb aboard, and push off. He unlatched the paddle from the side of the small craft and paddled away from shore. It seemed strange that Mr. Jefferson would grab pics of our sub before going on a recreational paddle in the middle of the night.

  It seemed even stranger when I realized he was paddling all the way to the scuba diving boat anchored by the island.

  8 The Exertion Aversion

  “MAYBE HE KNOWS THE SCUBA people,” Sam suggested the next day.

  “That’s what Noah said,” I replied. “And I’ll tell you what I told him…. Of course he knows them. I can’t see someone like J. J. Jefferson being the type to sneak out and spy on people. But why take pics of our sub first?”

  Sam didn’t reply right away. I couldn’t read her expression because I was talking to her legs. They were poking out from under the Beach Comber as she made adjustments to the mechanism.

  “He’s been photographing everyone’s stuff,” she finally said.

  “And talking about stealing our designs,” I muttered.

  “He was obviously joking.”

  I sighed. “That’s what Noah said too.”

  Her right hand waved from under the machine. “Hand me a crescent wrench, will you?”

  I grabbed the tool from the nearby toolbox and placed its handle into her outstretched palm.

  “Look, maybe he was just going for a quiet night paddle,” Sam suggested. “Did you actually see him get into the divers’ boat?”

  I shook my head. “No. It was too dark and too far away.”

  Sam slid out from under the Beach Comber. She adjusted her glasses and pulled a twig from her hair. A wide grin stretched across her face. “Okay, so maybe not only does he know them, but he’s hired them to search for… the lost Boldero treasure.”

  I should’ve seen this coming. Sam had always been one to latch on to a good urban legend or conspiracy theory. She totally believed Bigfoot exists and that the government keeps aliens hidden away at Area 51. While she was probably the smartest student at the academy, she loved speculating about the impossible, or at least the improbable.

  “I hate to break it to you,” I said, “but I think my dad made up that story. I’m pretty sure the armored truck is just another wreck for scuba divers to explore.”

  Sam shrugged but didn’t lose the grin. “If you say so. It looked pretty authentic to me.”

  As promised, Noah had taken Sam out in the sub first thing that morning. They had toured the armored truck, just as we had the day before. After that, I took Tony Garret for a quick dive. We didn’t visit the truck, though; he wanted more footage of the Basker in action. It was a pretty boring trip for me, to be honest, but like Noah said, it was better than picking up trash. Once Tony and I returned and our solar panel had recharged the sub’s batteries, Noah took Terry Stephenson for a trip. He was still out there, which reminded me…

  I pulled the radio from my belt and keyed the mic. “Just checking in.”

  “All good,” Noah’s voice squawked from the tiny speaker a few seconds later. “We’re heading back now.”

  “Copy that.” I returned the radio to my belt.

  “I have some more adjustments to make,” Sam said, kneeling down, ready to crawl back under the Beach Comber. She pointed her wrench at a nearby trash bag. “Mind taking another load over to Jessie?”

  “You bet.” As I grabbed the bag, I was surprised b
y how heavy it was. It appeared that Sam and Amy’s machine had been quite efficient.

  I hauled the heavy bag over to where Jessie had set up her sorter. Sam wasn’t the only one making adjustments. Jessie crouched beside her long machine, slowly turning a screw with an Allen wrench.

  I plopped the bag onto the ground with a grunt. “Here’s another load for your…” I realized that I didn’t know what Jessie had named her invention. “What do you call this thing?”

  Jessie shrugged and blew away a long strand of black hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I haven’t landed on the right name yet. I’ve just been calling it the sorter.” She pointed at the large triangular funnel on one end. “Dump that in the hopper, please.”

  I opened the bag and grunted again as I lifted the heavy load up to the hopper. Tilting the bag, I emptied the contents, careful not to spill anything. Once the hopper was full, Jessie pushed a button, and her invention came to life.

  Now, one of the cool things about Jessie’s sorter is that she used a long piece of transparent plastic for its cover so you could look past the solar panels and see just how the mechanism operated.

  First, the litter spread out over a slow-moving conveyor belt. Next, a set of thin metal tines raked over the trash, pulling out any plastic bags and wrappers that couldn’t be recycled, depositing them into the first bin. Then two arms outfitted with magnets took turns waving over the debris as it passed by. When they returned to where they’d started, they ran over a thick brush that knocked away anything the magnets picked up, and metal bits rattled into the second bin. The conveyor belt carried the remaining load through a series of laser beams that detected bits of glass or plastic. I heard jets of compressed air fire as they targeted items, sending them into the third and fourth bins. Finally, all that was left were crumpled aluminum cans. The nonferrous metal that hadn’t been caught by the magnets tumbled from the end of the conveyor belt and landed in the final bin. The thing worked like a charm. Sure, there were similar devices at recycling plants, but I bet none of them were portable like Jessie’s invention.

  “That’s amazing, Jessie,” I said. “You should name this the Super Sorter.”

  She smiled. “Hey, I like that. Thanks.”

  While her invention continued sorting, I made my way to the docks before anyone else could find more jobs for me. I was just in time to catch Noah and Terry tying up the sub.

  “Thanks, man,” Terry said, giving Noah a fist bump. He turned and offered me one too. “Nice sub, Tom.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, returning the bump.

  “I got some sick pics of that wrecked truck,” he added. “It was just like your dad said.”

  As Terry walked up the dock, I helped Noah connect the solar panel to the battery. “It’s still at seventy-five percent, since we went straight to the truck and back,” Noah reported. “It should be good to go again soon.”

  “Excellent,” I replied. “Amy’s already called the next ride.” I glanced toward the island. “Did you run into any scuba divers this time?”

  Noah shook his head. “None at all. You’d think we would’ve seen at least one with the way they have the whole place blocked off.”

  Noah and I left our sub to charge and made the rounds to check out everyone else’s projects. Overall, the students and adults were ecstatic with the cleanup. In fact, at the rate we were going, we’d have our section of the lakeshore litter-free well before the trip was over.

  The only students who didn’t seem completely satisfied were Tony and Maggie. The Basker wasn’t running efficiently enough for them, and they were brainstorming ways to make it better.

  By the time Noah and I made it to Sam and Amy’s area, we were surprised to see them watching their invention at work from the comfort of a long bench made from different-size branches.

  “Working hard, I see,” Noah said as we approached.

  The bench creaked as Sam leaned against its long backrest. “Pretty cool, huh? Amy made it.”

  “No way,” I said, moving in for a closer look. Thick branches were neatly lashed together to form the frame. Rows of thinner branches had been secured to the frame to form the seat and backrest. I grabbed a corner and gave it a shake. The thing was surprisingly sturdy. “That’s so cool.”

  “Thanks,” Amy said as her hands fidgeted in her lap.

  “You’re quite the pioneer woman,” Noah added.

  Amy shrugged. “It wasn’t very difficult. The design was in a camp craft book I found in the library.”

  Sam gave Amy a playful nudge. “And here she was worried about camping. She’s a natural.”

  I glanced up and saw Mrs. Scott holding a couple of pairs of gloves and empty trash bags. She glanced around, clearly looking for volunteers for trash detail.

  “Are you ready for your ride in the sub, Amy?” I asked.

  Amy shot to her feet and grinned. “Oh yeah.”

  “You think it’s charged enough?” Noah asked.

  I glanced at the approaching teacher, then back to Noah. “It’s charged enough,” I said as I handed him the radio.

  Noah tracked my eyeline. His shoulders slumped when he spotted Mrs. Scott. “Aw, that’s cold, man.”

  I shrugged, and then Amy and I made our escape.

  When we got to the docks, I was happy to see that I hadn’t been wrong. Our batteries were charged to 90 percent. I knew from experience that we had more than enough power to get to the armored truck and back.

  “Where do I sit?” Amy asked.

  I pointed to the rear hatch. “Climb in there, unless you want to drive.”

  Amy shook her head and moved toward the opening. “I’ll leave that to you. And you’re sure this is safe?”

  “Definitely,” I replied.

  As she climbed in, I attached the snorkel and untied the rear line, then closed Amy’s hatch, showing her how to lock it, before climbing into the front. I was releasing the line when J. J. Jefferson strolled out onto the dock.

  “I’m hearing great things about your sub.” He held up his phone. “Mind if I get some pics later? Inside and out? I’d really like to study your design.”

  “Uh, sure,” I replied. I didn’t get it. Did the ones he’d snuck the night before not turn out well enough?

  “I’d ask for an actual ride, but”—Mr. Jefferson gestured to his large frame—“I think things would probably be a little cramped.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I think so.”

  Mr. Jefferson turned his attention to the open water, pointing to a spot away from the island. “Have you checked out that shack yet?”

  I shook my head. “Everyone wants to see the truck.” I glanced back at Amy. She nodded inside the clear dome.

  “Could be cool,” Mr. Jefferson said. “And it would keep you far from those scuba divers.”

  “We haven’t run into them yet,” I replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “But we’ll be careful.”

  Mr. Jefferson shrugged. “Okay,” he said, but his brow was furrowed.

  I closed and latched my own dome before motoring away from the dock. I aimed for the island and opened up the throttle, then turned and looked back at my passenger. “Are you ready to dive?”

  Amy nodded and gave a half smile. She gripped the side of the hatch with both hands.

  “It’ll be fine,” I reassured her.

  Before I could turn back to face forward, I caught a glimpse of Mr. Jefferson on the dock. His hands were on his hips as he watched us motor away.

  9 The Concession Confession

  “THIS IS AMAZING,” AMY SAID as we cruised three meters below the surface.

  I checked the compass and adjusted my heading. Noah and I had made a note of the truck’s location in relation to the dock. That way we could save battery power by not running the external lights until we got there. There was still plenty of light from the surface to see the underwater wildlife in our little sphere of visibility, anyway.

  “And look at all the fish,” Amy said. “They actually come right up to you.”

  I told Amy about what I’d learned in scuba class about how curious fish were compared to animals on dry land.

  “Speaking of wildlife, have you seen any this trip?” I asked. Kevin Ryan had mentioned coming across a raccoon on his way to the restroom the night before.