Storm

by D. J. MacHale

  There were two pilots sitting at the wide console, not one. The cockpit was huge, with plenty of room for me to run in and target one of them. I went for the guy on the right, the copilot. With my adrenaline pumping, I was ready to grab him, yank him out of the chair, and throw him to the floor so Tori could hold the gun to his head.

  I took one step inside. The copilot spun around, and I froze.

  “Wha—?” he gasped with surprise.

  The guy in the copilot’s seat . . . was Mr. Feit.

  He was as stunned to see me as I was to see him, and I took advantage.

  I leaped forward, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him out of his seat. Feit was bigger than me, but I had surprise on my side . . . and anger. I finally had my chance for revenge. Seeing him gave me the added boost of adrenaline I needed to take the guy apart.

  I whipped him around and slammed his back against the rear wall of the cockpit. The force must have knocked the air out of his lungs because I heard him grunt with pain and gasp for breath. I kicked his legs out, and he went down to the deck. Hard. I quickly twisted one of his arms behind his back and pulled his hand up to his shoulder, making him squeal.

  I’m ashamed to admit that I enjoyed hurting him.

  No, I’m not.

  Tori jumped behind me, sat on his legs, and jammed the muzzle of the Glock into his lower spine.

  “One shot and you’re a cripple,” she snarled.

  “Land the plane!” I ordered the pilot.

  The cockpit looked more like an elaborate computer work-station than the controls of a plane. There were no mechanical toggles or switches. Instead, the console was made up of multiple touchscreens. There was a narrow windshield in front, but the line of video monitors beneath it was what gave the pilot the information he needed. There were several live views of the ground, along with multiple indicators of various functions.

  There was no wheel or joystick. The pilot seemed to be guiding the plane by sliding his fingertips across a touchpad.

  If there was ever a moment when I bought into Kent’s theory about the Retros being from another planet, it was then.

  The pilot was the same guy we had seen running up the ramp. He didn’t look much older than me, with short military-cut hair. Both he and Feit wore gray flight suits.

  His eyes were wide and frightened. He had no idea what to do.

  “Sir?” he asked, near panic.

  “Stay the course!” Feit bellowed.

  Tori jammed the gun barrel into Feit’s back, making him grunt.

  “I swear I’ll do it,” she warned.

  “What the hell?” Feit bellowed. “I can’t get rid of you people!”

  I had my knee on Feit’s cheek, squeezing his head into the deck.

  “Land the plane, Feit,” I demanded. “If you think we won’t shoot you, you are dead wrong.”

  The pilot bolted out of his seat and dove at Tori.

  Neither of us expected that.

  Tori didn’t react in time, and it cost her. The pilot knocked her off of Feit and went for the gun. The move threw me off-balance, and that was all Feit needed to twist free and shove me back against the control console. I hit my head and saw stars but fought through it and launched myself at Feit, driving my head into his chest.

  We hit the hatch, and it flew open, sending us tumbling into the cargo bay. The hinges must have been on springs because as soon as we cleared it, it slammed back shut.

  A shot went off inside the cockpit. Then another.

  I heard Tori yelp.

  I tried to go back for the hatch, but Feit kneed me in the gut.

  I doubled over as he pulled away from me and scrambled to get back to the cockpit.

  Though I was hurting, I couldn’t let him get back in there. Not if Tori was hurt.

  I struggled to my feet and went after him. I wrapped my arms around him and kept driving my legs forward, using his momentum and mine to drive his head into the hatch, making a sickening thud.

  He was just as amped as I was and pushed off the bulkhead with his foot, sending us both backward and down to the invisible deck.

  I caught a brief glimpse of the ground flashing by below. We were no longer in the desert. There were buildings down there. Many buildings. We were over civilization and headed for Los Angeles.

  Feit shot an elbow backward and caught me in the temple, snapping my head back. It was all he needed to pull away from me.

  But he was dazed. He couldn’t think fast, let alone move quickly. He struggled to get to his feet.

  I wasn’t much better off. My ears rang, and colors swirled around me. I had to force myself to focus. If I didn’t end the fight soon, he would crush me. Any advantage I had was gone. He was an adult. A soldier. He knew how to fight. All I was was angry. If he was able to get himself together, I was done.

  I spotted the jump seats. Feit was gathering himself up a few yards in front of them.

  I pushed off the deck and charged him again.

  This time, Feit knew I was coming and whirled around to face me. He stood up straight. Big mistake.

  It was like a tackling drill I had done hundreds of times before. I got down low and led with my shoulder. I hit him square in the chest and pumped my legs, forcing him backward. Feit staggered back and landed in the jump seat.

  Instantly the safety straps wrapped him up and locked him in. But he could still use his arms and legs. I couldn’t back off. I drove my forearm into his neck and held it there, jamming it against his windpipe.

  My face was now inches from his. Feit’s nose was bleeding. It was probably broken. His hard breathing sent disgusting bits of blood and spit into my eyes, but I didn’t back off.

  “Land this plane,” I demanded, seething. “You are not going to hit Los Angeles.”

  “You can’t stop this, Tucker,” he hissed. “We’ve already won.”

  “Who are you?”

  Feit’s labored breathing turned into a gruesome laugh as he said, “Don’t you get it?”

  “No. Explain it to me.”

  “We’re you!”

  His strange answer made my brain clutch for a brief instant. It was all the opening he needed to hit the release latch with his free hand to retract the straps. He shoved me, and I careened backward, fighting to keep from falling.

  Feit launched out of the chair.

  I got my balance and ran forward, cutting the angle to beat him to the hatch.

  But he wasn’t going for the hatch.

  He dropped to his knees and reached underneath the jump seats to grab something.

  Whatever it was, I couldn’t let him get it, so I put on the brakes and headed his way . . .

  . . . as he pulled out a black baton weapon.

  He quickly turned it my way.

  I froze. He had me.

  Feit’s face was a mess, thanks to me. He was covered in blood from a smashed nose that was still spewing.

  Through the gore, he shrugged and laughed. He always laughed.

  “You know something? I don’t like you that much anymore,” he said and raised the weapon.

  Boom!

  The plane rocked so violently that we both fell to the deck.

  Boom!

  We were jolted again as I saw a white flash of light through the transparent floor.

  Two gray fighter jets screamed by below us.

  We were under attack.

  SYLO had joined the party.

  Feit was disoriented. I had my chance and dove at him, grabbing the black weapon. We both had two hands on it, struggling to twist it out of the other’s control. Whoever lost would be dead.

  It wasn’t going to be me.

  Instead of pulling back, I pushed forward. Feit hadn’t expected that and fell onto his back. I did a somersault over his head while still clutching the baton. The weight of my body and the force from the move gave me the power to wrench the weapon from his grasp. I kept rolling, got to my feet, and spun back to face him.

  Feit was still flat on h
is back. He was done.

  I glanced quickly at the weapon, trying to figure out how to fire it. There was a button that was flush to the grip handle right where my thumb rested. I aimed the baton toward the silver canister on the far side of the cargo bay and pressed it.

  There was a slight jolt as the weapon chugged in my grip, but not enough to make me lose control. The charge of energy hit the silver canister but only caused a slight dent. Whatever that thing was made of, it was strong.

  More important, I knew how to use the gun.

  “Get up,” I demanded as I took aim at him.

  Feit slowly got to his feet.

  “In there,” I said, nodding toward the cockpit. “If you so much as fart, you’re done.”

  The guy was beaten. He nodded and shuffled toward the hatch with no argument.

  I stole a quick glance at my watch.

  In eighteen minutes the charges would explode.

  I stayed close behind Feit, but not close enough for him to attack me. He pulled the hatch open, and I saw that the pilot was back in his seat. In one hand he held Tori’s pistol, aimed at something I couldn’t see. I had to believe it was Tori, and if he was aiming the gun, she was still alive.

  “Put it down!” Feit ordered.

  The pilot gave him a confused look. The guy was terrified. Can’t say that I blamed him. We were being attacked. I wondered if the massive plane could maneuver like the smaller fighters. If not, we’d be shot out of the sky . . . and maybe that would be a good thing.

  My question became irrelevant when two black Retro jets flashed by beneath us. The attack had become a dogfight. More black jets arrived to protect the mother ship as even more SYLO fighters arrived. The two sets of planes screamed past and around each other in a confused aerial ballet.

  The SYLO fighters fired their missiles, but the Retro planes blew them out of the air before they could reach their target.

  Us.

  “Sit down,” I ordered Feit.

  I wanted him in his seat, where I could see him.

  “Drop the gun,” Feit said to the pilot again.

  The pilot gave me a panicked look, then dropped the gun to the deck and turned his entire attention to the controls.

  “I’m okay,” Tori called out.

  I stepped into the cockpit and saw that she was sitting on the deck on the far side. She was alive, but she wasn’t okay. She clutched her thigh, where she had been shot. I kicked the gun across the deck to her. She gladly picked it up with her right hand while clutching her injured leg with her left.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I’m okay. But I’m sick of getting shot.”

  She lifted her hand from her leg to reveal a blossom of blood growing on her jeans.

  The control screens were alive with the frantic sights of the dogfight. About six different cameras, as well as the long windshield in front, gave a full-circle view of the activity outside.

  A SYLO jet was headed directly for us. It launched a missile and then broke off. Seconds later the missile exploded in the air. It rocked us, but that was all.

  “Where did they come from?” the pilot asked, frantically glancing at Feit. He was all squirrelly, as if he didn’t have much combat experience. “How could they know we’re headed for Los Angeles?”

  “I doubt if they do,” Feit said. “The fools probably think we’re going to attack Catalina Island. Relax, the fighters will keep them off of us.”

  “Why would they think you’d attack Catalina Island?” I said.

  Feit shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It’s a SYLO base, like Pemberwick Island.”

  I looked down through the deck to see that we were over the ocean. Below us was a fleet of warships. I flashed back to the air-and-sea battle we had gone through to escape from Pemberwick.

  Tori’s theory was true. SYLO had been protecting Pemberwick Island from the Retros, just like they were now protecting Catalina.

  But Feit wasn’t going after Catalina. He was headed for Los Angeles and what were probably thousands of survivors. Maybe hundreds of thousands.

  I glanced at my watch. Sixteen minutes.

  “Turn around,” I demanded.

  Feit looked over his shoulder and gave me a hideous grin.

  “We’re not landing,” he declared.

  “Not here you’re not. You’re going back to Area 51. Now. Right now.”

  The pilot gave a questioning glance to Feit.

  “Let me see,” Feit said. “That would be . . . no.”

  I fired the weapon at the plane’s console, blasting out two of the video monitors.

  Feit and the pilot threw themselves out of their chairs for protection.

  “Those jets may protect you from SYLO,” I said. “But they can’t get to me. You’ve got a choice. Turn this thing around and fly back to Area 51, or I’ll take it down right here. One way you lose this plane and die. The other way you give yourself a chance.”

  “Take this down and you die too,” Feit said, though with a hint of genuine concern.

  I answered by firing two more shots into the console, hoping I wasn’t hitting anything vital.

  “A Retro said we primates were already dead, we just didn’t know it yet. I guess that means we have nothing to lose. If we go down, so be it, but we are not going to Los Angeles.”

  I raised the baton, aiming it directly at Feit’s head.

  I saw terror in his eyes.

  I loved it.

  “Bring us around,” Feit ordered the pilot.

  “But, sir,” the pilot protested. “We’ll face a court-martial—”

  “We’ll deal,” Feit shot back. “Bring us around.”

  “Yes, sir,” the pilot said and crawled back into his seat.

  After a few swipes of his finger on a screen, the plane banked hard. We were constantly being buffeted by the force of missiles that were exploding all around us. I had to have faith that the Retro fighters would continue to protect us . . . even though the mission had been aborted.

  “I’m getting questions,” the pilot said as he touched his ear. He was being contacted by someone. “They want to know why we’re coming about.”

  Feit said, “Tell them we’re having technical difficulties.” He gave me a snide smile and added, “I’d call this a technical difficulty.”

  “Step on it,” I said.

  “Isn’t there somewhere else you’d like to go?” Feit asked sarcastically. “The Bahamas? Paris? Sydney? You’ve got the most advanced aircraft ever created. Let’s take it for a spin.”

  “Area 51 will do just fine,” I said. “Not that I don’t trust you, but you’ve got ten minutes to get us there. If we don’t make it by then . . .”

  I raised the baton threateningly.

  I felt a slight surge of power as the pilot accelerated. The ground sped by in a blur. There were fewer explosions and no jets in sight. SYLO must have thought that they had repelled the dark invader.

  “Why are you here, Feit?” Tori asked. “I thought you were all about slave labor and rebuilding. Does this mean you get your hands dirty with the killing too?”

  Feit didn’t answer. It was the first time that he wasn’t quick to run off at the mouth.

  “I’ll take a guess,” I said. “I think you’re a bigger part of this deranged mission than you’ve let on. If you’re on the deck of this new plane, you’re not just some officer who’s carrying out orders.”

  “I’m flattered,” Feit said. “Is that why you keep following me?”

  “I guess it is,” I said.

  “How do you feel, Tucker?” he asked, regaining some of his confidence. “Did it feel good to shatter my nose? And shoot at me? Which is better? Causing physical pain, or knowing that you outmaneuvered me this time? Does revenge feel as good as you imagined it would?”

  I didn’t answer right away. Feit really was an expert on human behavior. He knew what was driving me. I wanted to give him an honest answer, but first I had to decide for myself how I actually felt.
r />   “What do you say?” Feit pressed. “Doesn’t revenge feel great?”

  “No,” I said. “But it will.”

  The smile fell from Feit’s face. For a change, he wasn’t laughing.

  Time was running out.

  I glanced down to see that we were back in the desert and flying over the desolate landscape. I noticed a few shadows streak by below us and looked to the remaining video monitors.

  We were being escorted by Retro fighters.

  “One minute out,” the pilot announced.

  I glanced at my watch. Five minutes till the boom.

  “What happens when we land?” Feit asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Set down in the middle of the base, and we’ll all get off.”

  “And then?”

  “Then Tori and I leave.”

  Tori stood up and limped over to me.

  “Can you walk?” I asked.

  “It hurts,” she said. “But I can move.”

  “You’re a lousy shot,” she said to the pilot.

  The pilot ignored her.

  The base appeared below us. The plane slowed and hovered above the runway, then began its descent.

  “What are you going to do, Tucker?” Feit asked. “You realize there’s nowhere to hide.”

  “Who said anything about hiding?” I said. “Maybe you’re the one who should be looking for cover.”

  Feit laughed, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew something was going on but had no idea what it was.

  The landing tripod extended, and with a thump, the plane set down. I heard the whine of the engines as the ramp was lowered to the ground.

  “Everybody out,” I said.

  My heart was racing. I stole a quick look at my watch.

  Three minutes left.

  Feit and the pilot walked ahead of us down the ramp.

  I held the black weapon in one hand and had my other arm around Tori’s waist to help her walk. She was in pain, but she wouldn’t admit it. We walked down the ramp and didn’t stop, moving past Feit and the pilot.

  “That’s it?” Feit asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re just going to walk off into the desert?”

  “That’s it,” I said and picked up the pace. “See ya!”

  “How big is this going to be?” Tori whispered to me.