Sylo

by D. J. MacHale

Mr. Sleeper frowned and shook his head. “No. Too dangerous.”

  I stalked toward him and said, “It’s no more dangerous than what we’ve been through already. We’ve been out there, Mr. Sleeper. In your boats, in the middle of a battle. One of them was vaporized with my best friend on board. That’s how Quinn died.”

  Mr. Sleeper went white. “You made a run for the mainland? Tori?”

  “We did,” Tori said. “The Patricia was hit by a light that vaporized it, along with Quinn.”

  “Seriously?” Olivia said, stunned. She looked whiter than Mr. Sleeper. “Evaporate? Like…poof?”

  “I don’t know who is fighting who,” I said. “Or why. But they’re not taking prisoners. We saw it all, which means we have a hell of a lot more experience making a run for the mainland than any of your weekend warriors here. We will be on one of those boats, Mr. Sleeper. In fact, Tori will be the captain. I trust her more than anybody. It’s not a request, it’s a fact. Accept it or you won’t be getting any map from me.”

  Tori stood up and said, “Or from me, Dad.”

  I looked toward Kent. He saw how serious I was. He gave a resigned shrug and said, “Or me. I don’t want to be stuck here either.”

  Mr. Sleeper was speechless. Tori went to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his chest.

  “Don’t think that leaving us here is the same as protecting us,” she said. “We stand just as good a chance of surviving by making a run as staying on the island.”

  Mr. Sleeper closed his eyes and hugged his daughter. She was all he had in the world. It must have pained him to think that he would lose her. But he wasn’t the kind of guy who would step back, hope for the best, and let fate play out on its own.

  “All right,” he said softly, then looked at me and added, “You know how to pick ’em. If anybody’s got a chance of piloting a boat through a crapstorm, it’s my daughter.”

  “That’s what I figured,” I said. “Do I have your word?”

  He nodded. “You do.” He wiped his brow and added, “Let’s get to work on those maps.”

  We spent the next hour drawing, talking about what we saw in the SYLO compound, and answering questions thrown at us by a group of people that Mr. Sleeper brought in. Most I knew from around town. They were Mr. Sleeper’s buddies, and now they were his lieutenants. It was clear that Mr. Sleeper was the boss. He’d grown up on Pemberwick; he knew every inch of the island and most of the people. He also had a very strong personality. When he spoke, his buddies listened.

  They didn’t fill us in on the details of their plan to snatch Granger. I think they were still figuring it out, especially since we had dumped a boatload of new information on them. All we knew was that once the team left Chinicook, we would move down to the boats and wait.

  Feit was not part of this discussion. When the lieutenants showed up, Feit was asked to step out. Obviously, nobody trusted him. He wasn’t going to play a critical role in the kidnapping other than to provide a boost from the Ruby. I got the feeling that nobody liked him much. Made sense. As far as I was concerned, the guy was a murderer. I hated that the good guys had to rely on him and worried that they were going to take the Ruby, but it was a small risk compared to everything else that was going on.

  It didn’t help my opinion of him that he was such a good liar. Everything he first had told me about the Ruby was bogus. It made me wonder where his lies stopped and the truth began. We accepted everything he told us about SYLO and Granger because it fit and helped to explain some things. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if everything he said was the absolute truth.

  It was nearly four in the morning by the time we finished. I hadn’t slept much earlier that night and I was definitely feeling low after coming down from my adventure with the Ruby. Olivia had already crashed somewhere because she didn’t have anything to offer. Kent got bored quickly and was asleep on the floor of the tent.

  “Get some rest,” Mr. Sleeper said. “If you think of anything else, you can tell me later. And sleep in. We don’t move around much during the day. We’re like a camp of vampires.”

  The lady from the ice-cream shop came in with a couple of sleeping bags and pillows for us and started to lay them out near the crates of the Ruby.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I’d rather not sleep near that stuff.”

  She glanced at the Ruby and nodded. “Right. Sorry.”

  She laid both of the bags down on the opposite side of the tent and I went right for one, ready to crash.

  Tori gave her father a playful poke in the chest. It reminded me of when she pushed his hat over his eyes on their dock. “I’m proud of you, Dad,” she said. “If anybody can pull this off, it’s you.”

  “It’s not like I have a choice,” he said. “I’ve gotta take care of my little girl.”

  He kissed the top of her head and headed out of the tent.

  Tori came over and lay down on the sleeping bag next to mine.

  “Did you ever imagine that your father would be the leader of a revolution?” I asked.

  “No, obviously,” she said. “But if there’s gotta be a revolution, there’s nobody better to run it. People listen to my dad.”

  “Seriously. I can’t imagine telling him what to do.”

  Tori leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and whispered, “But you did tell him what to do. And he listened. Not bad.”

  She lay down on her sleeping bag and was asleep in seconds.

  It wasn’t fair. I was about as exhausted as I’d ever been in my life, but I had been jolted awake by a kiss that I never saw coming.

  There was so much rattling around in my head, good and bad, that I feared I’d never get to sleep. I probably lay there thinking for, oh, a solid eight seconds before dropping off.

  I didn’t sleep for long though. Can’t say why. I definitely needed more downtime but my brain needed my body to be awake so we could both get back to stressing over the situation.

  It was still dark. I saw that Tori was fast asleep. Kent and Olivia were, too. I wanted to fall back to sleep but knew it would be impossible so I got up and left the tent.

  The sky was slowly growing lighter. The sun would soon rise on what promised to be a dramatic day—maybe the most important day of our lives. Witnessing the dawn on that kind of day felt like the right thing to do, so I walked through the campground, snaking past tents, looking for a trail that would lead me out from under the protective canopy. The entire camp was surrounded by dense scrub trees. There was no way to bushwack out. I had to walk halfway around the perimeter until I found a trail.

  I followed the narrow meandering path for at least thirty yards until I broke out into the open to find a wide expanse of sand and grass that stretched to the ocean. From the end of the scrub where I stood to what looked like the edge of a bluff was about fifty yards. Luckily I had come out on the east side of the island, the side where I would see the sunrise.

  It was spectacular.

  The sky was growing brighter by the second. I thought about walking out to the edge of the bluff but remembered Mr. Sleeper’s warning. It wouldn’t have been smart to be spotted by a passing Navy ship. So I stayed close to the edge of the scrub, where I had a perfect view of the sunrise.

  Standing alone with only the sounds of the ocean and the occasional squawking seagull to keep me company, I felt oddly at peace. As uncertain as I was about how the day would unfold, it was good to know that there was a plan. I wasn’t so naïve as to think that we would put a quick end to the nightmare, but at least we now had direction. And friends. We weren’t alone anymore. I guess you have to appreciate the good stuff when it comes because there was more than enough bad stuff to go around.

  If there was anything positive to take from recent events, it was that in some small way I had proven to myself that I was able to rise to a challenge. That’s saying a lot. I guess you could say that I had been floating. I didn’t like to fail—at anything—which meant I usually didn’t try. Q
uinn loved to point that out about me. When I was faced with a challenge, I backed off, whether it was in school or with girls. It was always easier for me to pretend as though I didn’t care than to put myself on the line and risk falling on my face. If I had known I was going to land in the spotlight on the football team, I never would have joined in the first place. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to look bad. Or to be seen as somehow lacking. I think that’s why I never allowed myself to have the kind of dreams that Quinn had: to leave Pemberwick and make a difference somewhere. That was the kind of stuff other people did. I didn’t think I had it in me—whatever “it” is.

  But that changed when life changed. I could no longer sit back and say, “Really? The island’s been invaded? Oh well, pass the popcorn.” Maybe you have to have things taken away before you can truly understand how valuable they are…or however that song lyric goes. I had been pushed. Hard. I’m proud to say that I finally pushed back. And I would continue to push back. It was a strangely exciting feeling. It made me wonder what I might be capable of once we got past all of this crap and life settled back to the new normal. Maybe I’d start thinking more like Quinn and start looking around to see what could be accomplished. I’m not sure if that kind of thinking frightened me before, or if I just couldn’t see myself succeeding. But after what we had been through, I no longer had those doubts. I felt confident that I could rise to the challenge. Any challenge.

  I wanted the chance to prove it…for myself, and for Quinn.

  While I stood there contemplating the wonders of my newfound enlightenment, the sun began to peek up over the horizon. The strip of sky above the sea quickly turned orange, lifting the curtain on a new day. It was a day that would set the course for the next chapter in this strange adventure. I felt certain that the next time the sun came up it would be on a whole new reality—one that we all had a hand in shaping because we were about to make another Pemberwick Run.

  Then I saw something on the horizon.

  It started out as a black speck on the sun…that soon turned into two specks.

  I stared at the aberrations, not sure of what I was seeing as the mysterious blots grew larger. It was the sound that brought it all into focus. It took a few seconds after I had registered the black specks for me to hear it because the speed of sound is painfully slow.

  It was a steady, low thumping sound. It was incessant. It grew louder. Fast.

  I don’t know why it took so long for me to react. Maybe it was ignorance or disbelief or wishful thinking—or stubborn resistance to the fact that all of our carefully crafted plans were about to go into the toilet.

  The black specks were flying out of the rising sun.

  They were helicopters.

  SYLO had found us.

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Wake up! Get up! We’re under attack!”

  I ran through the camp screaming like a lunatic, trying to roust the dozens of people who were sleeping peacefully, totally unaware that the game was about to change. People crawled out of their tents, wiping sleep from their eyes, looking more annoyed than worried.

  “Get up! Helicopters are coming this way!”

  Nobody reacted. Maybe they were still asleep and didn’t trust the ravings of a guy they didn’t know. They wandered about, grumbling, rubbing their eyes and generally looking dazed. I had the odd thought that this was what it must have been like on Pearl Harbor just before all hell broke loose.

  “Tucker!” Mr. Sleeper called as he crawled out of his tent. “What’s going on?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him, but didn’t get the chance.

  His answer came from the sky as the first helicopter swooped in low and unleashed a torrent of machine gun fire on the camp.

  They hadn’t come to capture anybody. This was an all-out attack.

  Nobody saw the flying beast. The camouflage cover worked both ways. What we saw instead was the sky falling and the ground torn up by two lines of bullets that raked the ground, splintering trees, tearing through tents, and sending small explosions of dirt into the air.

  That woke everybody up.

  Some people went for their shotguns. Others turned and fled into the scrub. Still others crawled out of their tents with looks of shock, as if the reality was too much to comprehend.

  I hit the ground but didn’t know why until I realized that Mr. Sleeper had grabbed me and thrown me down while shielding me with his body.

  “Get Tori,” he said. “Go for the boats.”

  I jumped up and started running for the big tent just as the next helicopter made its attack run. I hit the ground on my own this time, grabbing my head for protection—not that that would have helped against a white-hot bullet. The stream of bullets strafed the camp, pulverizing the plastic coolers, blowing them into the air with a shattering barrage. This time people were hit. I saw a guy running through the center of the camp, headed for his shotgun. He didn’t make it. At least one and probably more bullets hit him, dropping him instantly. A red cloud that seemed strangely pretty erupted from his back. My mind wouldn’t accept it for what it really was. The poor guy hit the ground and didn’t move.

  “Go!” Mr. Sleeper yelled to me.

  I scrambled to my feet and sprinted for the big tent.

  Inside, Kent was just starting to wake up. Fool.

  “What’s all the noise?” he asked, groggy.

  “Get up!” I shouted. “We’re under attack.”

  “Attack?” he repeated dumbly as if it didn’t register. “By who?”

  “Where’s Tori?”

  “Here!” she called.

  Tori was huddled under one of the picnic tables with Olivia, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights with wide, frightened eyes.

  “New plan,” I said, breathless. “We’re going for the boats now.”

  “I knew it,” Tori said angrily. “That’s why we escaped so easily. They let us go.”

  Kent crawled over and scrambled under the table.

  “No way,” he argued. “My plan worked perfectly.”

  “Because there weren’t any guards around, you idiot!” Tori screamed. “They knew exactly what we were doing. We were set up. They followed us here.”

  Her words stunned me, but made total sense.

  “Kent?” Olivia cried with confusion. “Are we going to be okay?”

  Kent didn’t get the chance to answer as another strafing run hit the camp. The pounding sound of the helicopter flying low over the trees was broken up by the nasty chatter of its guns. I jumped under the table just as the surface was hit, sending splinters of plastic all over the tent.

  Olivia screamed. Kent did too.

  I grabbed Tori and held my breath, bracing against the pain I expected to jolt me at any second. But the strafing run ended and I was still in one piece.

  “Anybody hit?” I asked.

  I was answered with wild, frightened gazes.

  “We gotta go,” I declared.

  “No,” Olivia cried, shaking her head like a petulant two-year-old. “I’m not moving.”

  I grabbed her and stuck my nose right in her face.

  “That’s your call,” I said. “But if they keep pounding the camp, this might not be the safest place to be.”

  She was on the verge of hysteria but she had enough sense to understand that staying could mean death.

  “Okay,” she said, nodding quickly. “I’ll go.”

  I pushed her toward Kent and said, “Watch out for her.”

  “Seriously?” Kent snarled. “Who’s gonna watch out for me?”

  I don’t think I could have hated Kent any more than I did in that moment.

  “I gotta find Dad,” Tori said as she crawled out from under the table.

  “No,” I said, grabbing her arm. “He’s okay. He told me to get you and head for the boats.”

  A helicopter roared over. Olivia grabbed her head and screamed again as Tori and I dove beneath what was left of the table. This time the helicopter didn’t unload.<
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  “They’re just messing with us now,” I said.

  “They’re doing a good job,” Kent whined.

  “I can’t believe this is a mass execution,” I said. “They’re going to land and try to round us up. Our best bet is to get lost in the trees and bushwack out.”

  Nobody disagreed. They needed guidance and mine was as good as any.

  “Then let’s go,” Tori shouted.

  We headed out of the tent to witness total chaos. Many people had shotguns pointed to the sky at…what? Sunlight streamed through the bullet holes in the camouflage, making it look like a giant spaghetti colander. At that moment I was more worried about getting shot by a trigger-happy friend than by SYLO. There were a few people down and hurt, or worse. Others huddled together, staring up, waiting for the next attack.

  “This way,” I said and started for the trees on the north end of the camp.

  Tori didn’t follow. She stood still, staring at something.

  “C’mon!” I yelled.

  She took off in the other direction.

  “Let her go,” Kent demanded.

  There was no chance of that.

  “Tori? What are you—”

  I saw where she was headed. Lying in the dirt on his back, unmoving, was her father. She ran to him and fell to her knees. I hurried up behind her to see that he was alive, but barely. His eyes were vacant and dreamy. His mouth hung open and, worst of all, a thick pool of blood was growing under his back. Tori lifted his head and put it on her knees.

  “Dad?” she said, holding back tears. “How bad is it?”

  Her father focused on her. Surprisingly, he smiled.

  “Not bad,” he said in a weak whisper. “But I won’t be paying Granger a visit tonight.”

  “We’ll get help,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ll stay with you until the soldiers get here and—”

  “No,” he said and grabbed Tori’s hand. “Go. Now. While there’s still a chance.”

  “I won’t leave you,” Tori argued. She was losing the battle to keep from crying.

  “You have to,” Mr. Sleeper said and winced. The guy was in serious pain.

  “Don’t move,” Tori pleaded.