D. MacHale - Storm

When we got to the Explorer, Tori jumped behind the wheel while I got in the passenger side. She fired up the engine while flexing her left hand.

“Is it hurt?” I asked.

“Just numb. What are those guns they have?”

“They must be the same kind of thing the black planes have. It shoots a burst of energy.”

“That’s like science fiction,” Tori said. “Since when does the military have stuff like that?”

“That and lasers that evaporate people and disintegrate buildings, and magic medicine that instantly heals injuries, and fighter planes that sing, and red crystals that turn people into super humans before killing them. The Air Force is using some serious technology.”

“Why doesn’t SYLO have the same stuff?” she asked.

“You’re asking me like I might have an answer.”

Fenway was tumbling. One whole side had collapsed, making the ballpark look more like the remains of the Roman Colosseum than a modern-day stadium. The Navy fighters continued to scream over while launching missiles. The steel structure that Feit called “salvation” was destroyed, yet the punishing attack continued. Terrified people fled from the crumbling stadium. Both soldiers and civilians flooded out from every door, desperate to escape the destruction.

“Drive us back to Faneuil Hall,” I said. “The others have to know what’s going on.”

Tori hit the gas, did a sharp one-eighty, and we sped away from the smoldering wreck that was once Fenway Park.

“Is it possible?” Tori asked, breathless. “Could the Air Force have wiped out most of civilization? How could that help mankind?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get my mind around any of it.”

“What if Feit is right? What if SYLO is plotting something even worse?”

“Worse than genocide?” I asked. “I have trouble believing that.”

“Why? Because Feit’s a liar?”

“Because my parents are part of SYLO. I don’t care what they did to me, there’s no way they could buy into something like that.”

“And Feit’s a liar,” she added.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Then why did SYLO choose Pemberwick Island to make a stand?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they thought they could defend it. They sure sent enough firepower there. What I don’t get is how nobody knew a civil war was brewing. You’d think that kind of thing would make the news.”

“Maybe the government thought they could stop it,” Tori offered.

“What government?” I shot back. “The Air Force is the government too! There’s gotta be something else behind this.”

“Yeah,” Tori said. “If we believe Feit.”

The sounds of the attack on Fenway grew fainter as we tore through the empty streets of Boston.

“Does this mean you’re with me?” she asked.

It took a second for me to understand what she was asking. “You mean Nevada?”

“That radio broadcast might be the only hope we have of finding people who are ready to fight back.”

“Fight back against who?” I shouted in frustration. “SYLO is supposedly trying to destroy the world, and the Air Force has already wiped out most of the population. I’m not seeing a clear choice here.”

“If we believe Feit,” Tori cautioned.

“The guy’s a liar, but everything he just said seems to be true. What we don’t know is why it came to this, and who can be trusted.”

“Exactly,” Tori said with conviction. “The only people we can rely on are survivors like us.”

It was the first logical thing I had heard since I woke up that morning.

“Oh man, we’ve gotta hurry,” I warned. “Look!”

A squad of twenty soldiers wearing gray camouflage fatigues and black berets was on the street ahead of us, headed in the same direction we were: toward Faneuil Hall. They jogged together, two by two, each holding a black baton gun.

Tori took a sharp right to avoid them.

“Whatever they were building at Fenway is destroyed,” she said. “Fenway is rubble. They don’t need workers there anymore.”

It was a sobering thought. If the survivors at Faneuil Hall were no longer needed, what would happen to them?

“Drive dangerously,” I said.

Tori accelerated, flying along a street that ran parallel to the one the soldiers were on.

“Why aren’t they on a bus?” Tori asked.

“How should I know? At least it gives us a little time.”

“We’ve gotta be careful,” she said. “If we fly in there shouting about how Chris is really with the Air Force, his cowboys could turn on people.”

“We won’t make a big show,” I said. “We’ve gotta get Olivia and Kent and Jon out. Whoever else we see along the way, we’ll tell them quietly. The news will spread fast, and people can slip away without a lot of noise and disappear into the city.”

“What if they don’t believe us?” Tori asked.

“Then the soldiers will convince them when they show up,” I said grimly.

Tori took the gun that was in her lap and tossed it to me.

“The shells are in the glove box,” she said. “Load it.”

The gun was still warm, the result of having been fired seventeen times. It took me a few seconds to find the lever that released the clip from the handle. I grabbed the box of bullets from the glove compartment and tried feeding them into the clip, but they wouldn’t go.

“Other way,” Tori pointed out.

I flipped the clip. That made the job much easier. In no time it was reloaded with seventeen more shots.

“I’ll carry the gun,” Tori said. “No offense. I just don’t want you shooting off your foot.”

“None taken.”

“How do you want to do this?” Tori asked.

We were nearly back to Faneuil Hall, and we needed a plan. We would get there well ahead of the soldiers, but they would catch up quickly.

“Park near the east end of the Hall,” I said.

Tori made the last turn off the surface street and pulled to a stop behind an abandoned FedEx truck.

“Are you okay with splitting up?” I asked. “We can cover more ground that way.”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, find Kent and bring him here.”

“How? I have no idea where he goes during the day. He’s totally secretive about it.”

“I don’t know what he does either, but I’ve seen him eating lunch under the trees on the south end of the complex. If he’s not there, forget him and get back here.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“Jon’s probably at the battery-charging station. I’ll tell him to meet you here and then look for Olivia.”

“I have no idea where she could be either,” Tori said.

“Neither do I, but everybody knows her. Somebody’s bound to know where she is.”

“Yeah, she’s hard to miss.”

I thought I caught a note of disdain. Or maybe it was jealousy. I ignored it.

“Whenever you see somebody, let them know what’s going on,” I said. “Tell them to spread the word fast, leave their stuff, and get the hell out.”

“There isn’t much time, Tucker,” she said, troubled. “If you can’t find Olivia…”

She didn’t have to finish her sentence.

“I’ll find her,” I said. “Just try not to attract any attention.”

I handed her the gun and the clip. She took it and slammed the clip home.

“I guess shooting Chris Campbell would attract attention.”

“Yeah, try to avoid that,” I cautioned.

“What if we don’t all make it back here?” she asked, looking me dead in the eye.

Tori was the most confident person I had ever met. Back home, when a SYLO soldier had a gun pointed at her head, she had taken him down with a Taser without blinking. She had fearlessly driven a speedboat into a firestorm between burning warships and saved our lives. She had just fired on Feit and his Air Force bodyguards, giving us the cover we needed to escape from Fenway. But in that moment, I saw a hint of fear in her eyes. It wasn’t that she was afraid of SYLO or the Air Force or whatever else we might encounter. She was afraid of being alone.