Sylo

by D. J. MacHale

  “His or the horses?” I asked.

  “Both. It’s a great gig for me. I love the horses and ride whenever I want. It’s like they’re mine.”

  “But you didn’t name them,” I pointed out.

  “Derby,” she said. “Her name is Derby. This one is Racer.”

  I patted Derby on the neck. “Sorry, Lassie.”

  I thought I saw Tori smile, but it quickly vanished.

  “There were two others,” she said softly. “Remi and Nimbus.”

  “‘Were’?”

  She fell silent and gazed out over the ocean. Her head had gone to another place, just like when we were at the Lobster Pot Festival. I’m not sure what made me finally realize the truth. Maybe it was seeing her on that horse as if she were born to ride. Maybe it was being out there on the bluffs. Or maybe it was the way the tears were growing in her eyes. It was probably all of the above, because in that moment, I understood.

  “It was you that night, wasn’t it?” I asked. “You were the one riding on the bluffs when the shadow exploded.”

  Tori didn’t answer right away, which was her answer. I looked around to realize we were very close to where we had chased the shadow down.

  “It was your dad who spoke to Deputy Donald, right? I thought I recognized him.”

  Tori kept her eyes on the ocean and said, “He didn’t want me to get involved. He’s always protecting me. He told them he was the one who got thrown from the horse when the shadow exploded.”

  “Did you get hurt?” I asked.

  “Just bruises,” she replied, trying to control her emotions. “I know how to fall.”

  The image of the massive explosion that silhouetted the rearing horse and rider was one I thought I’d never forget. Now that I knew it was Tori, there was no chance I’d ever forget it.

  “So then whose pickup truck was parked on the bluff that night?” I asked. “I thought it belonged to the guy who said he saw the whole thing, but if that was your father and he wasn’t out here, whose truck was it?”

  Tori shrugged. “I don’t know. I wondered that myself. When I rode back to my house, it was gone.”

  “So maybe there was another witness,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Tori agreed.

  “You could have told me this sooner,” I said. “I’m not a bad guy.”

  Tori finally looked at me with a pained expression that I truly didn’t understand. She was hurting and it wasn’t from being tossed off the horse.

  “What did you bring me out here to see?” I asked gently.

  Tori took a deep breath and said, “A few days after the explosion, I rode Derby out here to round up the other three. Racer was waiting by the gate. The other two were…”

  Her throat convulsed as if she had trouble saying the words. “I saw them coming over that rise,” she said, pointing. “They were galloping. Fast. Like, impossibly fast. I thought it was an optical illusion but they flew by me like they were, well, flying. Saliva was spraying from their mouths and their eyes were wild. They pulled up just beyond that dune and started jumping. Up and down, like bucking broncos.”

  She was fighting to keep her emotions in check.

  “I didn’t dare get off Derby. I was afraid they’d trample me. So I cautiously walked her over, calling to them, trying to get them to focus on me and calm down. It didn’t work. They were out of control. Their whinnying was horrible, like they were excited and in agony at the same time. Then suddenly they took off together, charging back the way they came.”

  I was afraid I knew where this story was going but didn’t interrupt. Tori had to tell it her way.

  “I galloped after them but there was no way I could keep up. They were just so fast. Eventually they circled back toward here and—”

  The words caught in her throat as tears starting streaming down her cheeks.

  “When I got over that rise, I saw them. Both on the ground. Dead. Just like that.”

  “Just like Marty,” I said.

  “They actually looked like they were at peace. Nimbus had her head on Remi’s belly. Those two loved each other.”

  Tori sniffed back tears, then nudged Racer to walk, headed for the shore. I followed on Derby, quietly. After about twenty yards, we came to what looked like a pile of rocks that had washed up from the sea. When we got closer, I saw it for what it really was…two large graves. We stood over them silently.

  After a few moments, I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “You think Feit gave them the Ruby?”

  Tori’s look turned hard. “Is that what he calls it?”

  I nodded and said, “How did he give it to them?”

  “He didn’t.”

  Tori reined Racer and continued toward the shore. We approached a sandy bluff that led directly down to a small, rocky beach. It was a beautiful view, looking out over the ocean and a brilliant, cloudless sky.

  “They found it themselves,” she said and pointed down to the beach.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be seeing. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust and to register the horror that lay below. What at first looked like a beach covered with rocks, wasn’t.

  Instead of tide-washed stones, the beach was littered with chunks of red crystal. Most of them were baseball-sized, but some were as big as grapefruits. The larger chunks rested on a bed of smaller, shattered crystals. There had to be a ton of the stuff, just sitting there as if it had washed up like so much sea glass.

  It was the Ruby.

  “I saw Remi and Nimbus an hour before they died,” she said. “They were down there, grazing. Whatever that wicked stuff is, it turned my horses into demons and then killed them. And now that Feit character is feeding it to people.”

  “I took some,” I blurted out, without thinking.

  Tori shot me a look of surprise and confusion.

  “He said it would improve my performance,” I added. “Serious understatement. I only took a few tiny crystals but the result was incredible. I felt like like…Superman.”

  “But you’re okay now,” Tori stated, confused.

  “Because I hardly took any. Feit said Marty took too much, and obviously so did the horses. I guess your body can operate in overdrive for just so long before it crashes.” I looked at Tori and said, “You’re the only person I’ve told.”

  “What is the stuff?” she asked. “Why is Feit pushing it?”

  I got off Derby and walked to the beach where the Ruby was spread out.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s an experiment gone wrong or some new toxic substance or something from Mars, for all I know. Whatever it is, it’s—”

  I didn’t finish the sentence because I saw something else on the shore. Something out of the ordinary. Scattered throughout the field of red crystals were chunks of a black material that looked to be anything but natural. They were all sizes and shapes. Some as small as crackers, others the size of dinner plates. I picked one of the larger pieces up to see that it was like a piece of sheet metal, but much lighter, and paper thin. All the pieces were paper thin. It seemed to be made of some kind of plastic, which meant it was definitely man-made.

  “I think that stuff washed up with the crystals,” Tori said. “It might be pieces of a boat that was carrying the stuff. Looks like it broke up on the rocks.”

  “Smashed up is more like it,” I said. “It was totally destroyed. I mean, there’s nothing left but bits and pieces, like it was…” The words caught in my throat. I looked up to Tori and finished my thought. “Like it was blown up.”

  Tori’s eyes went wide as the possibility hit her.

  “Like maybe that shadow wasn’t a shadow,” she said, numb.

  I quickly put one of the smaller pieces into my pocket, then knelt down, pulled my sleeve over my hand, and picked up a golf-ball-sized chunk of the red crystal. I didn’t want to touch it with my bare skin in case the poison could somehow leach through my pores.

  “We’ll bring this stuff to the SYLO compound.
This has got to be what they’re looking for. Those CDC brains can analyze it and—”

  The sound of a speedboat powering up cut me off. We both looked up to see a high-speed cigarette boat blasting away from the island, headed out to sea.

  “Where did that come from?” I asked.

  “There are private docks up and down the coast,” Tori replied.

  After watching the speeding boat for another few seconds, I said, “I think he’s making a run for it.”

  The boat had huge twin outboard engines that churned up the water. Only one person was on board, standing at the wheel.

  “What’s that sound?” I asked.

  Tori listened. “All I hear is the boat. What does it sound like? Wait—I hear it.”

  It sounded like the sharp, tearing sound of a jet engine. It quickly grew louder, which meant it was drawing nearer. Fast. Tori and I both looked back over the island and saw a slim, streaking shape flying high overhead. It had short stubby wings and a rounded nose. The thing was moving so fast it was hard to focus on, and it was headed out to sea.

  “Oh my God,” I said with a gasp.

  “What is it?” Tori screamed.

  I didn’t have to answer. A few short seconds later my fear came true. The streaking shape was a missile. It tore by overhead, zeroing in on its target.

  “Is that—?”

  The missile hit the cigarette boat and exploded into a ball of fire. It took a few seconds for the sound to reach us, but when it did, it was deafening. The horses panicked and reared back. It was all I could do to hang on to Derby. The impact point had to be half a mile out to sea, but I felt a wave of heat wash over us. That’s how intense the explosion was as the boat’s gas tanks ignited.

  “Easy! Easy!” I commanded Derby.

  We both got our horses under control and turned our attention back to the water. The only thing left of the cigarette boat and its skipper were a few pieces of smoking wreckage. I looked back to the sky, wondering where the missile might have come from, and saw the dark speck of a military helicopter flying back inland.

  “This can’t be happening,” Tori said, her voice shaking.

  “Attention!” came an amplified voice.

  We looked up the coastline to see a military Jeep with a SYLO soldier standing in the passenger side, holding a megaphone.

  “Do not move,” he commanded. “Hold your position.”

  “No way,” I said.

  “What do you mean, no way?” Tori cried. “They’re the good guys.”

  “Really? Well the good guys just blew somebody out of the water. I don’t care why they’re here. That’s murder.”

  I climbed onto Derby’s back and slapped the reins on her butt. The old horse still had life and charged forward. I had no idea if I could even stay on the back of a galloping horse, but at that moment I would rather have taken my chances with her than with an army of murderers, no matter whose side they said they were on.

  THIRTEEN

  Irode Derby back the way we had come, leading Tori up the rise that led back to the sandy road that snaked through the long stretch of sea grass.

  “This is crazy,” she called. “We can’t outrun a Jeep.”

  I didn’t care. They may have worn uniforms with official-looking arm patches and had the backing of the president of the United States but what we’d just seen was murder. If they could blow an innocent guy out of the water for trying to leave the island, they could just as easily do the same to a couple of kids who had witnessed it.

  I crested the rise and was about to kick Derby into gear when I caught sight of two people sprinting across the open field. They were tourist types wearing khakis and sweatshirts.

  “Hold up!” Tori commanded.

  I looked back to see the Jeep speeding after them.

  “They aren’t after us,” she declared.

  I reined Derby to a stop as Tori joined me.

  The Jeep bumped over the rough surface, closing on the two.

  “Hold your position,” came the command through the bullhorn. It wasn’t directed at us but at the two running men.

  The two guys didn’t stop. They split up. A soldier jumped out of the Jeep and chased after one while the Jeep went for the other.

  “I don’t think they even know we’re here,” Tori said.

  “Let’s keep it that way, c’mon.”

  “No,” Tori shot back. “I want to see.”

  The Jeep was gaining ground on the one guy. There were two soldiers on board. The driver and…

  “Granger,” I said. “The head SYLO guy.”

  The steel-haired soldier stood up in the Jeep as casually as if he were on solid ground—and lifted a rifle. He had done this before.

  “No,” Tori said with a gasp.

  Granger raised the gun with the calm authority of someone who had done it before and took aim at the fleeing man.

  The guy dodged and weaved, trying to make a difficult target.

  Tori said, “He wouldn’t—”

  He would. Granger fired. There was a quick crack, and the man fell. Unlike with the woman who was run down and captured in the park, this weapon fired bullets. It was like seeing hunters chasing down and killing a fleeing animal, except that the animal was human.

  The Jeep skidded to a stop right next to the fallen victim as the driver jumped out and went to the guy. Granger didn’t move. He didn’t even look down at the body. It was like he couldn’t be bothered. That job was left to his subordinates. He rested the rifle casually on his shoulder while scanning the horizon, maybe looking for his next victim. The driver hoisted the body onto his shoulder and dumped it in the back of the Jeep like a sack of fertilizer. Or a dead deer. He then quickly got behind the wheel and took off the way they had come.

  They soon caught up with the other soldier, who came trudging toward them with the other guy draped over his shoulder. He had bagged his own kill. He dumped the body in the back of the Jeep, on top of the guy’s dead friend, hopped on, and the hunters charged off, headed for the road.

  “Did that really just happen?” I said, stunned. “They could have captured those men easily. Same with the cigarette boat. They’re the freakin’ Navy. They could have caught that boat and arrested them but they killed them instead.”

  “What do we do?” Tori asked, sounding equally numb.

  We had just witnessed a triple murder carried out by the U.S. Navy. What possible explanation could there be that would justify that?

  “The sheriff,” I said. “We’ll get this piece of the Ruby to him and tell him what we saw. He can get it to the CDC people. Or the FBI.”

  “There’s nothing right about any of this,” Tori said, still stunned.

  We trotted back toward the barn near Tori’s house. The whole way I kept glancing over my shoulder for fear that Granger would come blasting out from the brush in the Jeep with his rifle up and ready. It was a nerve-wracking ride, but we made it back safely and started to pull the saddles off the tired horses.

  “Maybe we should tell your father,” I offered.

  “No,” she said instantly. “He’s got enough to worry about, and…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “And what?”

  Tori struggled to find the right words, as if she was wrestling to understand her own feelings.

  “I don’t want him to be in danger too.”

  “You think we’re in danger?” I asked.

  Tori shrugged. “I think we saw something they didn’t want us to see.”

  “Damn,” I said. “Let’s get this stuff to the sheriff.”

  We went right to Tori’s scooter and she drove us back into town. Neither of us said anything on the way. I think I was in shock. In the last few weeks I had seen more people die than, well, than ever. As horrible as the deaths of Marty Wiggins and Mr. Nelson were, they were nothing compared to what we saw out on the bluffs by Tori’s house. Those people didn’t just die, they were killed. Shot. Hunted down. Was it murder? Could it be
justified? I had trouble believing that our military had a policy of killing unarmed civilians, quarantine or no quarantine. There had to be another way to deal with people who were trying to leave the island. I wanted to talk to my parents about it, but Tori’s words kept ringing in my ears. Maybe it was better if they didn’t know. My hope was that we would drop the sample of the Ruby and the mysterious black material off with the sheriff, he’d get it to the proper authorities, they’d figure out that it was the cause of all of our problems, and then the SYLO soldiers would get the hell off Pemberwick.

  Riding into Arbortown, I was struck by how normal the place looked. Boredom had replaced fear and people had returned to the streets. The only sign that things were different from any other typical September day were the soldiers that patrolled the streets…and the warships lying offshore.

  Tori took us right to Sheriff Laska’s office, which was a small one-story building on the opposite end of Main Street from the harbor. There was nothing official looking about the place. From the outside it could have been a candle shop or a bookstore. Tori and I stepped into the lobby area, where a receptionist sat behind a desk doing paperwork. Or a crossword puzzle, I couldn’t tell.

  “Is Sheriff Laska in?” I asked.

  “Sure is,” the lady replied brightly. She could have been somebody’s gray-haired grandma. “Who should I say has come calling?”

  I looked to Tori to see if she wanted to answer for herself, but she had gone back into silent mode.

  “Tucker Pierce and Tori Sleeper,” I answered. “We have something important to show him.”

  “Well, then,” the lady said, putting on an official tone that I didn’t believe for a second. She had a hint of a condescending smile as if she thought we were two children who were there to report a cat stuck in a tree. “I’ll get him right out here.”

  She stood and walked quickly down the hallway that led to offices in the back of the building.

  “She thinks this is a joke,” Tori said.

  “That won’t last,” I replied.

  Sheriff Laska came right out, rolling his ample gut into the room. His receptionist followed and sat at her desk.