D. MacHale - SYLO

I got off Derby and walked to the beach where the Ruby was spread out.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s an experiment gone wrong or some new toxic substance or something from Mars, for all I know. Whatever it is, it’s—”

I didn’t finish the sentence because I saw something else on the shore. Something out of the ordinary. Scattered throughout the field of red crystals were chunks of a black material that looked to be anything but natural. They were all sizes and shapes. Some as small as crackers, others the size of dinner plates. I picked one of the larger pieces up to see that it was like a piece of sheet metal, but much lighter, and paper thin. All the pieces were paper thin. It seemed to be made of some kind of plastic, which meant it was definitely man-made.

“I think that stuff washed up with the crystals,” Tori said. “It might be pieces of a boat that was carrying the stuff. Looks like it broke up on the rocks.”

“Smashed up is more like it,” I said. “It was totally destroyed. I mean, there’s nothing left but bits and pieces, like it was…” The words caught in my throat. I looked up to Tori and finished my thought. “Like it was blown up.”

Tori’s eyes went wide as the possibility hit her.

“Like maybe that shadow wasn’t a shadow,” she said, numb.

I quickly put one of the smaller pieces into my pocket, then knelt down, pulled my sleeve over my hand, and picked up a golf-ball-sized chunk of the red crystal. I didn’t want to touch it with my bare skin in case the poison could somehow leach through my pores.

“We’ll bring this stuff to the SYLO compound. This has got to be what they’re looking for. Those CDC brains can analyze it and—”

The sound of a speedboat powering up cut me off. We both looked up to see a high-speed cigarette boat blasting away from the island, headed out to sea.

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

“There are private docks up and down the coast,” Tori replied.

After watching the speeding boat for another few seconds, I said, “I think he’s making a run for it.”

The boat had huge twin outboard engines that churned up the water. Only one person was on board, standing at the wheel.

“What’s that sound?” I asked.

Tori listened. “All I hear is the boat. What does it sound like? Wait—I hear it.”

It sounded like the sharp, tearing sound of a jet engine. It quickly grew louder, which meant it was drawing nearer. Fast. Tori and I both looked back over the island and saw a slim, streaking shape flying high overhead. It had short stubby wings and a rounded nose. The thing was moving so fast it was hard to focus on, and it was headed out to sea.

“Oh my God,” I said with a gasp.

“What is it?” Tori screamed.

I didn’t have to answer. A few short seconds later my fear came true. The streaking shape was a missile. It tore by overhead, zeroing in on its target.

“Is that—?”

The missile hit the cigarette boat and exploded into a ball of fire. It took a few seconds for the sound to reach us, but when it did, it was deafening. The horses panicked and reared back. It was all I could do to hang on to Derby. The impact point had to be half a mile out to sea, but I felt a wave of heat wash over us. That’s how intense the explosion was as the boat’s gas tanks ignited.

“Easy! Easy!” I commanded Derby.

We both got our horses under control and turned our attention back to the water. The only thing left of the cigarette boat and its skipper were a few pieces of smoking wreckage. I looked back to the sky, wondering where the missile might have come from, and saw the dark speck of a military helicopter flying back inland.

“This can’t be happening,” Tori said, her voice shaking.

“Attention!” came an amplified voice.

We looked up the coastline to see a military Jeep with a SYLO soldier standing in the passenger side, holding a megaphone.

“Do not move,” he commanded. “Hold your position.”

“No way,” I said.

“What do you mean, no way?” Tori cried. “They’re the good guys.”

“Really? Well the good guys just blew somebody out of the water. I don’t care why they’re here. That’s murder.”

I climbed onto Derby’s back and slapped the reins on her butt. The old horse still had life and charged forward. I had no idea if I could even stay on the back of a galloping horse, but at that moment I would rather have taken my chances with her than with an army of murderers, no matter whose side they said they were on.

Irode Derby back the way we had come, leading Tori up the rise that led back to the sandy road that snaked through the long stretch of sea grass.

“This is crazy,” she called. “We can’t outrun a Jeep.”

I didn’t care. They may have worn uniforms with official-looking arm patches and had the backing of the president of the United States but what we’d just seen was murder. If they could blow an innocent guy out of the water for trying to leave the island, they could just as easily do the same to a couple of kids who had witnessed it.

I crested the rise and was about to kick Derby into gear when I caught sight of two people sprinting across the open field. They were tourist types wearing khakis and sweatshirts.

“Hold up!” Tori commanded.

I looked back to see the Jeep speeding after them.

“They aren’t after us,” she declared.

I reined Derby to a stop as Tori joined me.

The Jeep bumped over the rough surface, closing on the two.

“Hold your position,” came the command through the bullhorn. It wasn’t directed at us but at the two running men.

The two guys didn’t stop. They split up. A soldier jumped out of the Jeep and chased after one while the Jeep went for the other.

“I don’t think they even know we’re here,” Tori said.

“Let’s keep it that way, c’mon.”

“No,” Tori shot back. “I want to see.”

The Jeep was gaining ground on the one guy. There were two soldiers on board. The driver and…

“Granger,” I said. “The head SYLO guy.”

The steel-haired soldier stood up in the Jeep as casually as if he were on solid ground—and lifted a rifle. He had done this before.

“No,” Tori said with a gasp.

Granger raised the gun with the calm authority of someone who had done it before and took aim at the fleeing man.

The guy dodged and weaved, trying to make a difficult target.

Tori said, “He wouldn’t—”

He would. Granger fired. There was a quick crack , and the man fell. Unlike with the woman who was run down and captured in the park, this weapon fired bullets. It was like seeing hunters chasing down and killing a fleeing animal, except that the animal was human.

The Jeep skidded to a stop right next to the fallen victim as the driver jumped out and went to the guy. Granger didn’t move. He didn’t even look down at the body. It was like he couldn’t be bothered. That job was left to his subordinates. He rested the rifle casually on his shoulder while scanning the horizon, maybe looking for his next victim. The driver hoisted the body onto his shoulder and dumped it in the back of the Jeep like a sack of fertilizer. Or a dead deer. He then quickly got behind the wheel and took off the way they had come.

They soon caught up with the other soldier, who came trudging toward them with the other guy draped over his shoulder. He had bagged his own kill. He dumped the body in the back of the Jeep, on top of the guy’s dead friend, hopped on, and the hunters charged off, headed for the road.

“Did that really just happen?” I said, stunned. “They could have captured those men easily. Same with the cigarette boat. They’re the freakin’ Navy. They could have caught that boat and arrested them but they killed them instead.”