D. MacHale - Storm

“This isn’t good,” I said.

Tori shook her head with awe.

My fear about what this plane could do was justified. This weapon was far bigger and probably way more powerful than the ones carried in the fighters. When the smaller planes fired on Tori’s father’s boat and killed Quinn, it took the combined light beams from three different planes to create a single, intense ray of light that was strong enough to disintegrate the boat. And Quinn.

I had to believe that the bad boy on this giant craft didn’t need any help.

I pulled out the explosive disk and nudged Tori to do the same.

“Put yours in the middle of that thing,” I said, pointing to the weapon. “Fix it low so it won’t be obvious.”

“What about yours?” she asked.

“I’ll put it someplace where it will do the most damage.”

Tori went to the weapon to lay her charge while I scanned the craft for something that looked like an engine. I skirted the hatch opening at the top of the ramp and went for the tail. These weren’t ordinary planes with traditional jet engines. Instead of the roar that comes from fuel-burning turbines, these planes emitted oddly pleasant musical notes. What kind of engine did that? What did it look like?

The hold was as wide as it was long. This was no sleek, streamlined aircraft. It was shaped more like a sci-fi flying saucer than an aerodynamically efficient jet. But these things could move and maneuver way better than any conventional jet. They could take off and land vertically, hover in place, and launch in an instant, all while firing their weapons.

I walked to the rear to see a silver-metallic cabinet that ran the width of the craft. It came up to my waist and was four feet deep with a flat surface. It was sealed. There was no way to see what was inside. I tentatively reached out, put my palm flat on the top—and quickly pulled it back.

The surface was warm. My hand tingled. Whatever was inside was active. It may have been the engine, or the fuel supply, or the powerful weapon that worked during the day firing bursts of destructive energy for all I knew. Whatever it was, it was an integral part of the plane. It was as good a place as any to set my charge.

I pulled the disk out of my pocket, peeled off the protective layer to reveal the glue side, and fixed it to the dead center of the cabinet near the deck.

“What is that thing?” Tori asked as she joined me.

“I’m hoping it’s the engine.”

I programmed in the code and entered it, then reset my stopwatch to zero.

In thirty minutes the plane would be crippled.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tori said.

She got no argument from me. We started for the front of the plane…

…as one of the pilots charged up the ramp.

We froze. If he turned around, he’d see us and we’d be done.

The guy was in too big of a hurry to do anything but sprint to the hatch at the front of the plane. When he opened it, I caught a quick glimpse of a high-tech console with multiple computer screens. It had to be the cockpit. The pilot jumped inside and slammed the hatch behind him.

“We gotta go, now,” I said and pulled Tori toward the ramp.

A high-pitched whine filled the cargo area as the ramp began to lift back into the plane.

“No!” Tori cried.

We dove for the rapidly shrinking exit… too late. The ramp had become a hatch that sealed the plane with a solid, sucking sound.

We were trapped on board.

“Look around for a release lever,” I urged.

We began a frantic search for an emergency release that would blow open the hatch.

We came up empty.

Tori whispered, “It’s okay. Relax. We’ve got half an hour. By then we’ll find a way to get—”

The plane lurched.

We were moving.

I heard the musical notes. They were coming from the sealed locker at the rear of the plane. At least I was right about one thing: That was the engine. There was a slight tremor that told us we were under power. There was another bump and the unmistakable sway that meant we were airborne. A mechanical humming followed, which must have been the landing tripod retracting. The plane lurched again. We were moving, which made it difficult to stand upright. Without windows, we had no visual reference to tell us which way we were going or how fast.

“The cockpit,” I said. “Get your gun.”

She gave me a quick, nervous look but shook it off and pulled out the Glock. We managed to stumble our way toward the hatch. Tori stood with her feet planted and the gun stabilized with both hands while I went for the small handle. She gave me a quick “ready” nod. I reached for the handle…

…and we were both thrown to the deck.

The plane had accelerated so quickly that we had no time to brace ourselves. We were climbing, fast. Tori and I were thrown to the deck and had trouble sitting up under the g-force caused by the acceleration.

“The seats!” I called out.

We struggled against the pressure of acceleration to crawl to the jump seats that were lined up against the fuselage on the opposite side of the craft from the laser weapon. We had almost gotten there… when the floor disappeared.

Tori squealed with terror, and I think I shouted too.

It took a second for me to realize that the floor hadn’t actually vanished but had become transparent. It was horrifying to see the ground fall away as we quickly rose into the night sky. The deck was just as solid as before. It was just… invisible.

I tried not to look down as we pulled ourselves up and onto the jump seats. As soon as I planted my butt in the seat, a soft plastic strap automatically appeared and lashed me in. Same thing happened to Tori. It was yet another example of the advanced technology that these planes possessed.

Tori and I held hands for strength and gazed down between our feet to witness the sea of black planes on the ground as we rose above the airfield. Many of them had billows of smoke spewing from their damaged fuselages, the handiwork of the saboteurs.

“It’s not enough,” I said.

“What isn’t?”

“The Chiefs guessed that there were seven hundred planes. There have to be three times that number. Even if every charge cripples a plane, the Retros will still have a massive fleet.”

Tori stared at the ground far below and shook her head. “And one monster plane that can do more damage than any of them.”

The runways grew small very quickly as we moved not only higher, but also away from Area 51.

“Are we going into space?” Tori asked numbly.

It sure seemed like it. This plane was definitely something out of science fiction. We sailed high over the desert with nothing but the faint sound of the musical notes to tell us we were under power. It was about as comfortable a flight as could be, other than the disturbing sensation of looking down at a floor that wasn’t there…

…and knowing we’d been shanghaied by the enemy.

“We’ve got to do something,” Tori said. “You know they’re not just taking this monster out for a joy ride.”

That’s when it hit me.

“I was right,” I announced. “Look.”

I pointed to the ground to see that we had already left the desert. Though it was dark, I could make out buildings and homes. I saw a dark racetrack and many industrial buildings.

“About what?” Tori asked.

“We’re headed for Las Vegas,” I said solemnly.

Sure enough, the darkened buildings of the Las Vegas Strip came into view. I could make out the sprawling hotels, the Stratosphere Tower, and even the Statue of Liberty lying on its side.

A loud hum came from the silver canister across from us. The nefarious weapon had come to life. A bright beam of light shot from underneath the plane. It looked very much like the multiple beams of light that had joined together to kill my friend, only far more intense. It was a sight I hoped I’d never have to witness again. It made my heart ache… and my blood boil.