12. Maya

Chapter twelve

Maya

T he following morning, I receive a text that Wildlife and the Police have called a town meeting to let the community know what is happening. Levi and I make our way to the community center, and I'm surprised at the buzz of activity already echoing across the room. It looks like most of the town is already here to discuss the turtle poaching problem. The air is thick with a mixture of anticipation and tension.

Levi walks beside me, his presence a comforting constant. "This should be interesting to see what kind of plan the authorities have come up with?" he says, his voice low.

I nod, taking a deep breath. "We need their support, Levi. This community is as much a part of this fight as we are."

As we move around the center, we see people milling about, talking in hushed tones. The room inside is packed, every seat taken and more people standing along the walls. At the front, a table is set up for the officials: Sarah, the Fish and Wildlife Officers, a couple of local police officers, and Detective Goodwin. Their serious expressions underscore the gravity of the situation.

I spot Sarah and give her a small wave. She nods back, her face a mask of determination. Levi and I find a spot along the wall near the front, ready to listen and, when necessary, speak up.

Sarah stands and calls for attention. "Thank you all for coming today. We're here to discuss the recent turtle poaching incidents and what we, as a community, can do to stop them."

A murmur ripples through the crowd. One man, older and weather-worn, stands up. "Sarah, we've heard promises before. What makes this time different?"

A Fish and Wildlife Officer, a stern-looking woman named Officer Daniels, steps forward. "We have solid leads this time," she says. "With the help of some brave individuals, we've gathered information that will help us track down the poachers."

A woman in the back stands, her face flushed with anger. "Leads? Information? We need action! My husband saw them just the other night, and nothing happened. How can we trust you to protect our livelihoods and our community?"

The room erupts in a cacophony of voices, some agreeing, others trying to calm the dissenters. I glance at Levi, who gives me an encouraging nod. I stand up, raising my hands to call for silence.

"Please, everyone," I say, my voice steady. "I understand your frustration and fear. But we're all in this together. The authorities are doing everything they can, but they need our help too."

An elderly man, his face lined with years of worry and hard work, speaks up. "What can we do, Miss? We're just fishermen and shopkeepers. We're not trained for this kind of fight."

Officer Daniels steps in again. "Your vigilance is crucial. Report anything suspicious immediately. We're setting up a hotline and increasing patrols. We'll also need volunteers to help monitor the beaches and nesting sites."

A younger man, who I recognize as a local shop owner, raises his hand. "I'll help," he says. "I can organize shifts for beach patrols. We need to protect what's ours."

More voices join in, volunteering their time and resources. The atmosphere shifts from one of despair to one of determination. I feel a swell of hope; these people care deeply about their home and its wildlife.

Levi stands next to me, his voice carrying a tone of authority and empathy. "We've already seen what happens when we work together. Joe's information has been invaluable. We need more of that kind of bravery. If we stay united, we can make a difference."

Detective Goodwin stands and addresses the crowd. "We're coordinating with Fish and Wildlife. Your cooperation is essential. Let's show these poachers that we won't stand idly by while they threaten our community."

The meeting progresses, plans are made, contact information exchanged, and roles assigned. The sense of unity and purpose grows stronger with each passing minute.

By the end of the meeting, the community seems more resolute, ready to do whatever is necessary to save the turtles.

***

As the meeting disperses, the tension in the air remains thick. People mill about, talking in hushed tones, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty. I turn to Levi, feeling

the weight of the morning pressing down on me.

"Let's get lunch with Lori, Jim, and Hank before we head out to the boat," I suggest. "We can discuss our next steps there."

Levi nods, his expression serious. "Sounds like a good idea. We need to regroup and figure out how we're going to handle this."

We gather our team and head to a small, local café not far from the center. The place is cozy, with a few scattered tables and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and homemade bread. We find a table in the corner, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other patrons.

As we settle in, the waitress comes over to take our orders. Once she's gone, we dive into the conversation.

"So," Jim starts, leaning forward, "what's our game plan? We can't just keep reacting to what the poachers do. We need a strategy."

"I agree," Lori chimes in. "We need to be proactive. The authorities are doing their part, but we can't rely on them to do everything."

Hank nods. "We've got to keep gathering evidence. The more we have, the stronger our case will be. But we also need to be careful. Those guys are dangerous."

Levi looks at each of us in turn. "I think our best bet is to continue our research quietly. We still have a project to complete so we need to continue dividing our time between research and investigating. We need to stay under the radar and avoid drawing too much attention. If we can find out more about their operation without getting caught, we'll have a better chance of shutting them down."

I take a sip of my coffee, thinking about how to contribute. "We also need to keep the community informed and involved. They need to know we're on their side and doing everything we can to protect them and the turtles. Maybe we can organize another meeting soon, but this time, focus on educating them about the poaching issue and what they can do to help."

Jim nods. "Good idea, Maya. If we can get the townspeople on our side, it'll be harder for the poachers to operate. They won't be able to hide in plain sight anymore."

The waitress returns with our food, and we take a few moments to dig in. The conversation pauses, but the tension remains.

After a few bites, Levi speaks up again. "We'll coordinate with the authorities, but let's start planning our own moves. We need to try and stay one step ahead."

We finish our lunch, the conversation flowing easily as we discuss possible strategies.

Lori suggests, "Maybe we should use drones to monitor the islands. We can cover more ground that way."

Jim nods in agreement. "And hidden cameras in strategic locations. If we catch them on camera, it'll be hard for them to deny what they're doing."

Levi nods, his expression thoughtful. "Good idea. And we should keep detailed logs of our findings. The more evidence we gather, the stronger our case will be."

Hank leans in, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I've got some high-tech surveillance equipment we could use. Motion-activated cameras, sound sensors—the works."

As we walk back to the boat, the ideas keep coming.

Hank chimes in, "I can start installing some equipment tomorrow. We just need to decide where to place everything."

Approaching the dock, the conversation continues, but Levi suddenly stops, holding up a hand. "Wait," he says, sniffing the air. His eyes narrow with concern. "Do you smell that?"

I stop and take a deep breath, the acrid scent hitting my nostrils. "What is that smell?" I say, my heart skipping a beat.

Levi's face hardens, and he quickens his pace towards the boat. "Something's wrong."

We follow him, a sense of dread settling over us. As we get closer, the smell of gasoline becomes overpowering. My pulse quickens, and a knot forms in my stomach.

"Stay back," Levi says, his voice tense. "Let me check it out first."

We watch anxiously as he approaches the boat, scanning the area for any signs of tampering. The tension is palpable, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Suddenly, Levi turns back to us, his face grim. "It's gas. The fuel line has been cut"