Strike

by D. J. MacHale

  At the edge of one clearing, beyond three burning fires, a crowd of prisoners was gathered. There looked to be a few hundred of them and they were growing in number. Their arms were locked as they chanted something that took me a while to decipher.

  “Water! Water! Water!”

  This might not have been a prison break after all, but more of a demonstration. During the day we were forced to do backbreaking labor under the hot desert sun and weren’t given anywhere near enough water to keep us hydrated. This nighttime riot seemed more like a massive show of anger over how we were being treated than a breakout attempt.

  I didn’t think for a second that it would do any good.

  Facing the chanting crowd was a row of Retro soldiers. Though the prisoners outnumbered them ten to one, the Retros had weapons they weren’t shy about using. I hoped the demonstrators knew what they were doing because they would certainly pay a heavy price for this insurrection.

  The Retro soldiers didn’t move. They held their baton weapons with both hands but had yet to aim them at the protesters.

  The crowd was getting more animated. Their shouts of “Water!” grew louder and more insistent. Tension was high. If either side made a move against the other, it would certainly trigger violence. Part of me wanted the prisoners to rush and attack the Retro guards. There were enough of them to be able to grab a few weapons and do some real damage. But that meant many prisoners would be shot, and from the look of things nobody was willing to risk that.

  I relaxed, thinking there wasn’t going to be a mass execution that night. It was at that moment that I caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the camp. It was a bus, not much different than a school bus, but painted in dark colors. It moved without headlights along a narrow section of barracks and finally came to a stop at the building one over from where I stood.

  I hurried along the roof to get a closer look at this new arrival. My fear was that the bus was bringing Retro reinforcements with heavier artillery to put an end to the midnight protest. I ran right up to the edge of the roof, peered down, and saw that I couldn’t have been more wrong. The bus was empty. What was it doing there?

  The answer came soon after.

  Several orange-clad prisoners hurried out from the barracks next to the bus and quickly boarded. They moved without a word as they quietly filled the vehicle.

  The true purpose of the demonstration now became clear. It wasn’t a protest. It was a diversion. The bombs, the chanting, the standoff . . . it was all to draw the attention of the Retro guards to the other side of the camp so that these people could load onto the bus.

  It was a prison break after all, and the Retros didn’t have a clue.

  The people in the courtyard were sacrificing themselves in order to help a handful of prisoners get away.

  Up until that moment I thought that the prisoners in this Retro camp had been turned into mindless workers who had given up and accepted their fate. It now appeared that Major Bova’s rules did nothing to stop them from communicating and working together to fight back against their tormentors. It gave me a rush of pride and excitement like I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  This was definitely a well-rehearsed plan. The prisoners moved quickly out of the building and entered the back door of the bus. Part of me wanted to jump off the roof to join them, but this wasn’t my show. All I could do was watch and root.

  I looked back at the action in the clearing. Even more Retro soldiers had arrived. They now stood two deep. It was an intimidating show of force, which meant there were fewer of them back in the camp who might happen upon the real event. The plan seemed to be working perfectly.

  I looked back to the bus as the last few prisoners scampered out of the dark barracks . . . and nearly fell off of the roof when I saw a girl among them.

  A girl I knew.

  There was no mistake. The long waves of curly black hair were a dead giveaway.

  It was Tori Sleeper.

  Alive and well.

  “Tori!” I called out and immediately regretted it.

  I was so surprised to see her that it came out before I could think.

  Tori froze and looked back to see who had called her name.

  Several prisoners stopped abruptly and turned to look up at me. They seemed horrified that somebody would have called out like that, inviting attention.

  I wasn’t so happy about it myself. I could have blown the whole plan.

  At least my dumb move confirmed one thing: It really was Tori. I was so excited that I wanted to scream out again and say, “It’s me! Tucker! I’m alive too!” But I’m not that much of a fool. All I did was give a small, embarrassed wave.

  The other prisoners snapped back to their senses and pushed her onto the bus. They moved with urgency, thanks to the screaming fool on top of the infirmary. I scanned the area quickly but didn’t see any Retro soldiers running their way. No sooner did the last escaping prisoner board than the back door closed tight and the bus began to roll.

  It seemed as though every Retro guard in the camp was facing off against the protesters. None of them had any idea that they were in the wrong place looking the wrong way. I actually punched the air in triumph and would have shouted “Yeah!” but I’d learned my lesson.

  The next day there would be hell to pay. I didn’t even want to think about what punishment Major Bova would condemn the rest of the prisoners to for helping the others escape. I had to believe that they had all considered this and chose to go through with it anyway. These were incredibly brave and selfless people. Once again it gave me hope that the Retros hadn’t completely triumphed.

  Best of all, Tori was on her way to freedom. It was a very good night . . .

  . . . until I heard a sound over the distant protest chants of the prisoners. It was music. The kind of music I didn’t want to hear.

  Near the steel dome, three black fighter planes on the ground had come to life. The ground beneath them lit up. The planes were about to take off.

  What were they going to do? Was this why the Retro guards hadn’t moved on the protesters? Were they going to bring in the heavy guns and attack the mass of prisoners? I thought about running to the far end of the building to scream out a warning, but it wouldn’t have done any good. The protesters were chanting too loudly. They wouldn’t hear one lone voice. . . . They couldn’t even hear the music of the planes.

  I was totally helpless.

  The three planes lifted slowly into the air and hovered near the dome.

  Three planes.

  The situation was even more dire than I thought. It was dark. The laser weapon the Air Force used to wipe out so much of the earth’s population only worked in the dark. It took the combined power of three planes to make it work. I couldn’t breathe for fear these three planes would hover over the protesters and fire their deadly light on them. Every last one of them would be obliterated in seconds.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. I ran to the far end of the roof screaming, “Run! Get out of there! They’re coming!”

  It was futile. I was a lone voice lost in the wind. These brave people were all about to die. I wanted to think they were prepared for the worst, but how could anyone prepare for something like that?

  I looked back to the dome where the three aircraft continued to hover. It wouldn’t be long before they drifted over the crowd and each shot a ray of light that would combine with the others to sweep the ground and wipe away everyone there. I’d seen it happen before.

  It was how Quinn died.

  “Run!” I yelled one last time.

  I needn’t have bothered because they couldn’t hear me . . .

  . . . and the planes were on the move.

  In the opposite direction.

  My brain didn’t comprehend at first. The planes weren’t going for the protestors. For one fleeting m
oment my hope soared that they were headed somewhere else. Planes had been coming out of that dome and leaving for parts unknown all day. This might be just another scheduled departure. The protestors, at least for the moment, were safe. I had a brief moment of total relief.

  Very brief.

  The planes banked and moved off in unison. They weren’t headed toward the protestors. . . .

  They were going for the bus.

  “No!” I shouted and ran back in the other direction.

  I sprinted along the length of the building, getting no closer to the planes as they moved away from me. In the distance I could still see the bus. It was a dark spot moving between buildings with Tori Sleeper on board . . .

  . . . being stalked by three flying marauders.

  The dark planes were in no hurry. They didn’t chase so much as drift ever closer to their quarry.

  “Tori!” I shouted in absolute futility.

  I couldn’t bear to watch, but I had to. The three dark shapes moved closer to their prey. In seconds they would be over the slow-moving bus. I hoped the people on board that bus had no idea of what was about to happen and that their end would be quick and painless. They had all suffered enough already.

  Especially Tori.

  I stood with my legs locked and my feet planted firmly. I wanted to witness it. I wanted to remember it.

  The three planes stopped advancing and floated in place directly above the bus. I knew what would come next. I saw it over the ocean when Quinn fell victim to this kind of ruthless attack. Now I would have two memories to haunt me . . .

  . . . and add fuel my rage.

  A narrow, intensely bright beam of light shot from each of the three stingray-shaped planes. The lights joined together and continued on as a single more-powerful beam that hit the bus. The vehicle was instantly enveloped in light and began to glow brightly, lighting up that section of the camp as if it were daytime.

  Though my knees went weak, I managed to stay upright and focused. I had to see what happened next.

  The glowing bus continued to move for another second. That was all. A moment later, it was gone. Vaporized. The light dissipated to reveal there was nothing left. There was no wreck, no scorched ground. No bodies. It was as if the bus and its passengers never existed.

  But it did exist. So did the people on board.

  People who were now dead and gone.

  Including Tori.

  The beams of light retracted and the planes flew off. Their job was done. They had deadly business elsewhere.

  My legs couldn’t hold me anymore. I fell to my knees, too stunned to know how to think. Or feel. I stayed that way for longer than I can say. I was in shock. In a single few minutes I had gone from feeling the joy and relief of learning that Tori was alive to witnessing her execution. Was it my fault? Had I called the attention of the Retros to the bus? I hoped not. It had happened too quickly. They were all dead. Tori was dead. With all that I had seen and been through since the invasion of Pemberwick Island, I had never cried. This time, I had no choice.

  I sat there, alone, and let the tears flow.

  Tori had survived the helicopter crash after all. Freedom was within her reach. Now, no amount of healing miracle-medicine would bring her back. I had lost another best friend. My hope was that she died with the confidence she was about to escape and had no idea of what had been hovering in the air above her.

  “Tucker?” came a girl’s voice.

  I thought it was a dream. Or another hallucination caused by my grief.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  I spun around to see her standing on the roof, not five feet from me.

  Tori.

  Or Tori’s ghost.

  “I . . . I . . .” Finding words was impossible because I couldn’t even find my brain.

  I dumbly pointed back in the direction of where the bus had been obliterated.

  “You saved me,” she said.

  “I saved . . . ? What?”

  “Once I saw you there was no way I was going to leave. I got on the bus and ran straight for the door in front.”

  She looked off beyond me and I could see that she was crying too. “All those people. They took me in because I was in their work unit today. Now they’re . . . gone.”

  The reality of the situation was gradually sinking in. She wasn’t an illusion created from my paralyzing grief. She was really there.

  Alive.

  I got to my feet and threw my arms around her.

  “I thought you were gone,” I said.

  “I would have been if you hadn’t called to me.”

  “It was a stupid thing to do.”

  “I know,” she said. “But it saved my life.”

  We stood there for a good long time, hugging and crying. The different emotions that were bouncing around my brain, and my heart, made my head hurt. I was devastated by the murder of so many prisoners and fearful for whatever punishment Bova would dole out to the others, but I was also back together with my friends. With Tori and Kent. We weren’t alone anymore.

  “The crash?” I asked. “What about my mother? And Granger?”

  “And Kent,” Tori added.

  “He’s down below getting healed. He’s fine.”

  Tori wiped her eyes and let out a small, happy laugh.

  “Thank God,” she said, sniffling.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I saw you get sucked out of the chopper and then we went down and everything went black. The next thing I knew I was lying in the infirmary hooked up to an IV. I was fine. Even the gunshot wound I got on the Retro plane was healed. But I don’t know what happened to your mother. I’m sorry.”

  “Cutter is dead,” I said flatly. “I think he died before the chopper even crashed.”

  Tori nodded. She wasn’t surprised.

  “This just keeps on getting worse,” she said.

  “Not entirely. I found you and Kent. At least we’re together. That makes things a whole lot better.”

  “Do they know we were the ones who destroyed the fleet?”

  “No,” I said. “But I’ll promise you one thing, before we’re done here, they will. They’re going to know exactly who we are.”

  EIGHT

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  It was a rude awakening from what had been, up until that moment, a very restful sleep. I opened my eyes to see a Retro soldier standing over me with an angry scowl and an electronic device in his hand ready to zap me. It was the same guy who didn’t want me staying in the hospital with Kent in the first place. When he saw that Tori had now joined me on the bed, his head must have exploded.

  I didn’t move but braced myself for the shock.

  “It’s all right,” another soldier said as she rushed up to the bed. “We’ll send them back to their unit.”

  The new arrival was a woman who wore Retro fatigues but had no weapons. She was probably on the medical staff.

  “Damn right,” the first soldier said as he slipped the device back into his pocket. “I want them out of here, now.”

  He stormed off, leaving the woman soldier standing over us.

  “It’s time you all went back to your units,” she said kindly, which was totally odd because from what I’d seen, none of the medical staff had any conversations with the patients other than to bark single-word commands.

  She went to Kent and carefully removed the IV from his wrist.

  I felt Tori’s weight behind me on the bed. We had come back down from the roof to be with Kent and had fallen asleep while lying together. It probably wasn’t the brightest thing to have done, but now that we were all back together, I didn’t want to risk losing them again by splitting up.

  Kent sat up, groggily, wiping the sleep from his
eyes.

  I raised both my hands in a “So? How are you doing?” gesture.

  He shrugged and gave me a thumbs-up. The juice had done its job. Kent was healed. When he caught sight of Tori, his eyes lit up. But he didn’t say anything. He knew the drill.

  The soldier leaned down to me and said softly, “You are a very brave young man. I wish you all well.”

  She put her hand over her heart in the same gesture used by the soldier who brought Kent and me to the hospital.

  Sounders.

  Was she a Sounder? Who were Sounders anyway?

  I nudged Tori to get up. The three of us got on our feet and left the hospital without a word. I took one last quick look at the woman soldier who stood at the foot of the bed. Her hand was still on her heart. When she saw me, she lowered it and walked away quickly.

  Once outside, Kent grabbed Tori in a big bear hug.

  “Jeez, Sleeper, I thought I’d never see you again,” he said with genuine joy. “You okay?”

  “I’m good,” she replied. “Hate the Retros. Love their medicine.”

  “Do me a favor and stop getting shot, okay?” he said.

  That made Tori hug him even closer.

  It was still dark but the sky to the east was beginning to lighten, which meant sunrise wasn’t far off.

  “Let’s go back to the barracks with my unit,” I said.

  The three of us walked through the quiet, dark camp shoulder to shoulder. The simple presence of friends was more than comforting. Knowing we were all safe and back together gave me a shot of confidence that made me believe we might actually stand a chance of surviving this latest ordeal.

  “What’s the plan, Rook?” Kent asked. “I know you’ve got one.”

  I was so happy to be together with these guys that I didn’t even mind that he called me Rook. I actually kind of liked it, though I’d never admit that to him. It was our own private connection to another life.

  “I’ve got to find my mother,” I said. “If we all survived the crash, there’s a good chance she did too.”