D. MacHale: Storm

The people who were supposed to protect me and make our home a home weren’t doing either. I will never forgive them for that… if I ever see them again.

My tragic story is only one of many that developed once SYLO came into our lives. Tori’s dad was killed while trying to fight back against the occupation. Kent’s father died when he took the Ruby to try to gain the strength to protect their home.

Olivia was visiting the island from New York City, but her mother was on the mainland when the invasion hit. They may never see each other again because there’s no way to know if she’s dead or alive. The details may be different, but the bottom line is the same: We have all lost the familiar base that helped make us who we are.

We’re adrift. All we can do is move forward and try to understand the biggest question of all: Why? Why has this happened? Why have so many people been killed? Why are the Navy and the Air Force battling each other, and who should we hope will win? That’s the most confounding question of all. SYLO held us prisoner, and the Air Force tried to poison us. The Navy murdered anyone on Pemberwick who challenged their authority; the Air Force wiped out thousands on the mainland.

Why? What were they hoping to gain? I can’t imagine anything being worth the pain and destruction that this war has already caused. There has to be a reason for it. Someone must be calling the shots. Someone sent SYLO to destroy my home. My life. When I find out who they are, I’m going to do everything I can to cause them the kind of suffering they brought to my friends, to Pemberwick Island, and to me. Maybe then we can start over and establish a new base. A new history. A new home.

If there’s any hope of that, we must first search for the truth… and hope that what we find won’t be worse than what we’ve already seen.

“We’ll take the Saab,” Kent said. “It’s butt-ugly, but the tank is full.”

We had made it safely to a parking lot that was packed with the cars of people who had come to the Old Port for a night of fun, and never left. We piled into the ancient burgundy sedan while keeping one eye on the sky. Nobody had to say it, but we all feared that another attack plane would come swooping in. I sat in back with Tori. Olivia rode shotgun.

“Where’s the hospital?” Kent asked.

“Head back the way we drove into town,” Tori said. “It’s near the Western Prom.”

“You say that like I know what you’re talking about,” he said snidely.

Kent started the engine, put the car into gear, and jammed his foot to the floor, launching us out of the parking lot.

“Hey, take it easy!” Olivia cried.

“Easy?” Kent said with a scoff. “Those planes are out hunting. I don’t want to get blown up.”

“And I don’t want to smash into a light pole,” Olivia chastised sweetly. “C’mon, Kent, I know you can get us there safely.” Kent backed off the gas.

“Sorry,” he said as if he actually meant it.

Olivia had an almost magical hold over Kent. Maybe it was the way she made it seem like he was always making his own decisions, while in reality she got exactly what she wanted. Or maybe it was because she looked incredible in the same short-shorts that she had been wearing since the night before. Or maybe he genuinely cared about her. Didn’t matter. Kent was a loose cannon, and if he had to be reined in, Olivia was the one to do it.

“How are you feeling?” I asked Tori.

“Tired, but okay,” she said.

I examined the bandage that Olivia had wrapped around her wound while we were on the boat making the run from Pemberwick Island.

“You’re not bleeding,” I said. “But we have to make sure you don’t get infected.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “Wouldn’t want you to go all gangrene and have to cut your arm off.”

Nobody reacted.

“Jeez, I’m kidding!” he complained.

Nobody reacted.

“Fine, I’ll shut up and drive.”

“Does it hurt much?” I asked Tori.

She didn’t answer, which was all the answer I needed. She was hurting.

As we drove through the streets of an empty Portland, I kept glancing to the sky for fear of seeing another dark plane. I rolled down the window to listen for incoming music.

None of us spoke. We were all wound tight, tuned for signs of danger. With each empty street we passed, the enormity of what we were facing grew more real. The idea that thousands of people had been wiped off the face of the earth was beyond horrifying. Not that the death of any innocent person can be justified, but with a war, there’s the grim expectation of casualties. But were we truly at war? If so, the people of Portland hadn’t gotten advance notice. They had been attacked without mercy and for seemingly no reason. It’s not like a victorious army came in afterward to occupy the city.

It seemed as though the attack was all about death for death’s sake.

As bad as it was, there was no way to know if Portland was the only target. What would we find when we left the city? Was the rest of the world safe and watching the grisly events unfold here in Maine? Or were there similar battles raging over New York? And Philadelphia? And Baltimore? And and, and…

Even more sobering, if civil war had broken out in the United States, it would affect the entire planet. We had allies and enemies.

The world economy relied on us. A civil war would create chaos everywhere. What we were witnessing would have an impact that stretched far beyond the borders of our little universe. With those dire thoughts in mind, it was no wonder that none of us could bring ourselves to say much until we reached our destination.

The Maine Medical Center was a sprawling, modern complex of brick buildings.

“Go to the emergency room,” I called to Kent.

“Yes, sir!” he replied with mock enthusiasm.

He followed the signs and pulled to a stop in front of the glass

ER doors. We all got out and took a quick look around. The parking lot was full, but not a single person was around.

“What’s the point?” Kent asked. “We’re not going to find any doctors.”

“We’ll get clean bandages and antiseptic,” Tori said. “It’s not like I need surgery.”

Olivia held Tori by the arm to support her.

I led us to the front door… and nearly walked right in to it. Oops. No power.

Kent pulled open a side door.

“Or we could go this way,” he declared smugly.

He held the door while the three of us entered.

The sun was already on its way down. With no power in the building, it was going to be a challenge to find anything—especially since the deeper we walked toward the emergency room, the fewer windows there were.

“We gotta do this fast,” I said, “or it’ll be pitch dark.” We walked quickly toward the patient-treatment area, more or less guessing at which was the right way to go. Being there brought back memories. Bad memories. The last time I had been in a hospital was the week before, when Quinn and I snuck into his father’s office in the Arborville emergency room. We hacked into his parents’ computer looking for information about the Pemberwick virus. What we found was the first hint that there actually was no Pemberwick virus; the hospital database showed no cases being treated. It confirmed that Captain Granger and his SYLO team weren’t telling the people of Pemberwick the truth.

As startling as that was, it was only the tip of the iceberg. “What’s that sound?” Olivia asked.

I stopped short and tensed up, fearing an incoming attack plane.

We listened and heard what sounded like a static-filled AM radio. “Could be a battery-powered radio,” I said.

“Yes!” Kent exclaimed. “We can get news out of Boston.” We followed the sound while straining to hear what was being broadcast. There was more static than anything else, but we could occasionally hear the sound of a woman’s voice breaking through the clutter. It wasn’t clear enough to make out anything specific.