by B. C. Tweedt
“Keep going!” Greyson commanded.
Greyson led the group, coughing at the smoke and stumbling with the floor tilting at nearly impossible angles. Navigating with only the fuzzy yellow emergency lights glowing at his feet, his adrenaline was working overtime, numbing the pain from the blows to his body, giving him hollow strength. Reaching another landing, Greyson glanced at the sign dangling from a screw that barely kept a grip in the plaster.
The Empress Deck.
“Two more!” Sydney shouted raspily, the red welts vivid on her neck.
No reply was needed. They saved their energy for the last two flights, ignoring the wave of heat and crackling of fire coming from the landing. He wanted to shed his soggy shoes, but there was no time to stop. Looking back, he saw the lobby to the Empress Deck crack in two, swallowed by the level below with a plume of flame and smoke rising from beneath.
Suddenly, a shuddering lurch sent them sprawling into a wall.
“Come on!”
He tugged on their arms until they were back on their way. They would not be left behind, and he didn’t have the strength to carry them. He barely had enough to carry himself.
“Through here!” Sydney pushed at the door and the storm raged in their faces with lashing wind and stinging rain. But it was friendlier than what was behind. They stepped into it, onto the sloping main deck, trailing single file as the wind whipped at their clothes.
As the colossal ship lolled to the side, slamming the kids against the railings, they were suddenly very aware of the fact that the sinking was almost complete. The waves, once twelve floors down, were now splashing over balconies of the rooms beneath, only a few floors down.
Greyson searched for an escape route, but the last lifeboat was already gone. At least the passengers had escaped.
“Watch out!”
A deck chair came sliding toward them and Greyson grabbed it just in time, pushing it away, keeping its trajectory toward the ship’s bow.
More chairs came careening toward them with a rush of water overflowing from the deck’s pool.
“Hold on!”
They grasped the railing, rocking with the waves as if standing up on a roller coaster. Nick and Greyson battled with the deck chairs, but Jarryd, Avery, and then Sydney saw something. Their eyes went wide, searching, their fists clenched white to the railing. They shared a look as another blast of lightning bathed the storm clouds with a blanket of light. There was something illuminated. Massive. Powerful.
“Greyson!”
The ship tipped the other direction, sending the chairs back toward the pool. Greyson managed to stagger over one last chair to join the others at the railing.
“We have to…” he trailed off, catching a glimpse of the massive battleship, its guns gleaming with rainwater, its steel hull piercing the hurricane’s waves like they were nothing. Some of the orange lifeboats had gathered near it, bobbing in the storm swells.
Greyson’s mouth hung open and fear stole his breath. The realization cut at him, slicing an icy blade along his spine.
It can’t be. All of it. All of it for this.
The life vests. The change of clothes. The distress call.
Greyson gulped, letting the rainwater wash over his trembling lips as the words formed and reformed.
“It’s…it’s a deadfall.”
Chapter 64
“A deadfall?” Sydney asked.
“A trap!” Greyson yelled, angry with himself for not seeing it. How could he not have seen it? “They’re going to attack the battleship! The soldiers will rescue them, take them on the ship thinking they’re the hostages…and then…”
Nick drooped his shoulders with defeat. “Oh no…”
“What?” Jarryd asked. “I don’t get it.”
Greyson gave him an annoyed sneer. “The sailors will rescue them, but the terrorists will use the guns in their life vests to take over the ship. It’s the only way the sailors would ever let them on.”
Nick squinted and chimed in through the deafening wind. “It’s a destroyer. I think Arleigh Burke class.” He drew a deep breath. “Over ninety missiles. Range of 1,000 miles.”
Greyson eyed the dark ship’s silhouette. “Nuclear?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly there was a giant groan from within the ship, shaking the deck and sending cracks rippling under their feet.
“We gotta go!”
They set off running along the edge of the ship, searching for another lifeboat, but they were all gone. There was no way off except for one – and no one wanted to acknowledge it.
They reached the ship’s bow, where the mini-golf course and the water park used to hold happy guests.
“I’ll jump,” Greyson said, grabbing the railing closest to the destroyer. “I’ll try to get help.”
Sydney nodded. “We all have to.”
“Not you. Stay here.” Greyson thought of her jumping from the moving van. Pulling her to shore. Thinking she was dead. “The last time you jumped, you almost died.”
She shook her head and put her finger in his chest. “The last time you jumped, you needed someone to help you.”
“Should have kept the waverunner,” Jarryd mumbled.
Greyson shot him a look. But as they surrendered to the idea of jumping, a light flashed on them from afar.
They shielded their eyes and held on to the bars with one hand as the rocking nearly sent them toppling.
They heard the beating of the chopper’s blades over the howling wind. Greyson peeked through his fingers at the glaring spotlight beaming down on them as if from a UFO.
“Hey!” he shouted at the helicopter, waving with his one free hand. “Down here!”
The helicopter hovered directly above them as the ship finally seemed to succumb to the rocking. It leaned on its side, tried to rock the other way, but it was stuck, keeping the kids pinned against the railing – the only thing keeping them from falling to the ocean below.
They screamed for help, some of their limbs slipping between the railings. The churning, deep blue sea loomed closer, but the light was still on them.
Suddenly two objects sent shadows over them from above. Ropes unwound and coiled at their sides with a zipping sound. Then, they were there. Two masked men dressed entirely in black held the ropes and found footholds on the railing.
“Grab on. Now!”
It only took a moment for the kids to realize the men were there to save them. The kids reached out and the men pulled them into their strong arms, but Greyson drew back. Each man had grabbed two. They could not carry a third.
“Stay here!” one shouted.
Greyson recognized his gruff voice. “Where else would I go, butthole?” He smirked.
The masked man tugged the rope, and Sydney gave Greyson an odd look just before she was zipped up in the air with the men.
Greyson watched her as she disappeared into the rain.
The ship jerked and he fell against the railing. It was nearly on its side now and still tipping. He had climb.
He knelt on the railing and envisioned the sideways railing like a ladder lying on its side.
Timidly at first, he stepped along the rungs toward the bow where the railing ladder began curving upwards – away from the water. He grew more confident and treaded along as the railing curved and tipped toward the ocean. The wind whipped at him and the rain blinded him, but he was numb.
He climbed the ladder, using each slippery rung, approaching the tip of the ship. The ship was now completely sideways. Water poured from the overflowing chasm, back into the ocean from where it had come. Deck chairs toppled out along with the debris from its interior.
Greyson clung on and pulled himself around to the other side of the ladder as the ship turned toward its back. It would flip over completely at any second, slamming him into the sea.
He fought for handholds and footholds, but it was growing awkward. How long until they came back? He had to hang on, just a li
ttle longer.
And then he slipped. His calf cramped and his foot jetted off the railing. He let out a yelp as he hung from the railing over the thrashing waves below.
He’d been hanging on too long. He could only do so much. The railing was heading for the ocean. He would have to let it take him there.
The man’s hands wrapped around his midsection.
“Gettin’ tired of saving you, Orphan.”
They were yanked upward, blowing free in the wind. The once massive ship grew smaller beneath his dangling feet – a spectacle lying on its side, dipping beneath the bulging waves. Its giant rotor blades emerged from the water, spinning like calm wind turbines.
“Lucky you kept the infrared tag on,” Grover said, referencing the button the soldiers had put on him during the battle in Camden.
Greyson managed to yell despite the man’s arms grasping hard around his lungs. “It’s a trap!” he yelled. “You have to warn them. Warn the destroyer!”
“What? What trap?” Grover yelled.
“The Plurbs. They’re dressed as civilians. You have to take me there!”
“We’ll warn them. You’re going nowhere.”
A sudden urge made Greyson thrash at Grover’s grip. He had to go! He had to save them! His Payback list was too long – but ninety missiles would make it unimaginably longer. He had failed the 8,000, but if he stopped the attack – maybe it would make up for the rest. The entire list, paid back – four times as much!
“Let me go! Let me go!”
Grover grasped him even tighter as they drew closer to the helicopter. Greyson bit at his arm, but some sort of hard armor hurt his teeth more than it hurt Grover. “Please!” he cried.
“Where do you think we’re going, kid?”
Greyson stopped struggling and the ropes swung them around until the destroyer came into view. Little muzzle flashes were popping all over the deck and inside the rooms on the ship’s superstructure. The battle had already started, and they were headed straight for it.
Chapter 65
Grover pulled Greyson in and pushed him toward an open seat. “Buckle, now!”
Greyson found the buckle and snapped in next to Sydney. She hugged him from the side and he closed his eyes, still catching his breath.
When he opened his eyes, a man with a painted mask was staring back. His mask was mostly black, but a red skull with jagged bones was painted over it. Only his dark eyes were showing, and they glared at Greyson. It was only a momentary stare; the man turned again to gaze out the side door with his four-foot long sniper rifle pointed into the storm.
Diablo.
Inspired by the man’s mask, Greyson unsnapped his soaking hat and fit it on his head. It wasn’t as cool as a skull mask, but it’d have to do.
Grover held a handle on the cockpit’s door. He leaned in to the pilot. “Get us to that ship, Forge.”
Forge nodded. “They put out a distress call a moment ago, but now…nothing.”
“Then we assume the worst. Hightail it before they gain control of its weapons systems.”
Grover turned back and took his seat next to Diablo as the helicopter banked hard, letting whips of rain through the wide-open side. The kids grasped their seats. They’d had enough of unstable ground.
“Where’s Kit?” Greyson asked through the roaring wind.
“Stack’s got him,” Grover snapped. “Now shuttup.”
Sydney leaned to Greyson and whispered, “You know these guys?”
“They’re my friends…kinda.”
Jarryd had been eavesdropping. “You’re friends with these guys?” He reached into his pocket and held something invisible in his hand. “You can have your man card back.”
Forge piloted them near the ship’s starboard side and then hovered at a safe distance. There were several lifeboats strapped on to rope ladders that had been thrown over the side of the massive ship to aid in the rescue. Several soldier’s bodies also lay about the deck, signs of the battle. But it had already been won – at least on the main deck. More gunfire was faintly audible, but Greyson knew the soldiers had been taken completely off guard.
“You’re seeing right, boys,” Grover said to Diablo and Forge, who was piloting. “Orphan says they’re dressed as civilians. Do your thing, Diablo. Then we set her down.”
Diablo raised his rifle. Greyson didn’t even get the chance to spot the terrorists.
POW! POW!
Greyson leaned toward the side door and glimpsed two men collapse to the deck, dropping their flashlights.
POW!
Another one fell from the superstructure.
Jarryd put his hand to his mouth and bit. “Beast…” he murmured.
Greyson nodded solemnly until Sydney’s hand nudged his. He turned to look at her. She kept looking forward, but her hand shifted under his.
Catching on, he grabbed her hand and held it tight. He examined her face and the red finger marks on her neck. She was scared, near tears, but she was alive. And he had this moment no matter what – better than any picture.
He rubbed his thumb against her skin and took in a long sigh.
POW! POW!
“Set her down, there!”
Forge swung the chopper to the back of the destroyer and began to set it down between three bodies. Grover and Diablo jumped out even before the skids had touched, their rifles raised and night vision goggles lowered. Greyson watched as they light-stepped forward, each aiming at one side of the deck.
As soon as the skids hit, Forge exited the pilot seat and wheeled around to retrieve a large case from the interior. In a few moments he had unhinged and removed the same drone that had spotted Greyson on the roof at Meyer’s Crossing. With a few strokes on his wrist pad, the drone rose from the case and hovered in the air at his shoulder.
Forge turned to the kids still buckled in to their seats. “Look at the black strip and don’t move.”
Still wary of the machine, the kids did as they were told.
“It’s recording your faces.”
Jarryd made a face for it to record – his beaver-face, when he squeezed his front teeth out of his lips and scrunched his nose.
Beep!
“Now it won’t shoot you while it’s on overwatch. It still needs a name, Greyson. We’ll be back.”
The soldier pulled a pair of goggles over his head and joined Diablo with his machine gun leveled in front of him. Through the helicopter’s windshield, the kids watched them move silently, disappearing through the wind and rain like ghosts. The drone maneuvered up and around the helicopter’s blades, vanishing into the night sky.
And they were alone.
There was nothing but the dimming sound of the helicopter’s blades. They were stiff with fear, their hearts still beating from the fresh thrills they’d been through. They stared out the sides at the raging storm, which was Darryl’s strong arm. He was getting closer and stronger.
A minute passed without a word. Their eyes were locked on the ship’s superstructure, its giant gun barrels and missile launchers, and the outline of the sinking American Dream. When Greyson finally sighed and rested his head on the back of the seat, the group’s tension released. They might have to stay awhile.
Finally breaking from her fear, Avery attended to Nick and Jarryd’s wounds, even popping open a first-aid kit she’d found under their seat. Sydney put her hands near the cuts on Greyson’s face, but she didn’t know where to start. He eyed the welts on her neck, still visualizing Orion’s big hands strangling the life from her.
“You okay?” he asked, reaching toward the welts.
She gently pulled his hand away from her neck. “Yeah. You?”
He paused, thinking about all of his injuries. Most of his body was bruised or bleeding, but he was lucky. “I’m alive. But my shoulder hurts worst.”
He rotated his shoulder and massaged it with one hand. Sydney gave him a look and added her hands to the massaging. “There?”
“Yeah,” he moaned. “Thanks.
And my calf. Cramp I think.”
Sydney eyed him for a few moments. He returned a serious look and draped his leg over her knee. Still eyeing him, she began to massage his calf.
“Thanks,” he said, feeling the muscle relax. He glanced at her. “And here…” He pointed at his lips.
She gave him a childish smirk.
“It’s a joke,” he explained with a tired smile. “From Indiana Jones, remember?”
She tried to hide her grin as she reached to his lips and massaged them with her fingers. His laugh was muffled through kneaded lips as Avery wiped a sterile pad across Jarryd’s bloody nose, which had crusted under his nostril.
“You took quite a beating from that bloke.”
Jarryd shrugged. “Seriously. I need another spa day.”
She smiled. “Maybe lat’ah. I’ll need my dad’s credit c’ahd, and he’s…well, somewh’ah.”
“We’ll find him,” Jarryd reassured. “Right, Nick?”
Nick was lost in his thoughts, staring at the floor and then his hands. There were raw scrapes where the fanny pack’s strap had rubbed off skin. His biceps were stiff from holding them as tight as he could.
He had wanted him to die.
He’d lost his mind for that moment, and the idea of losing it scared him.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“What’s that?” Jarryd asked, leaning toward the cockpit, where a red light blinked with each beep. Sydney stopped massaging Greyson’s lips.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Nick shook from his reverie and unbuckled; he made his way through the cockpit doorway where a small green screen revealed what appeared to be radar.
Beep, beep, beep.
“It’s getting faster,” Jarryd noticed.
Greyson unbuckled when he saw Nick’s face.
“Something’s coming,” Nick whispered.
Beep, beep, beep.
The kids’ faces dropped. What now?
Greyson heard the noises first and jumped from the side of the helicopter.
“Greyson! What are you doing?”
He ignored Sydney and padded onto the wet deck, craning his neck toward the sound in the sky. His eyes settled on the bulging clouds, hanging like loose sheets from the darkest bed.
