D. MacHale - SYLO

“What do we do?” Tori asked, sounding equally numb.

We had just witnessed a triple murder carried out by the U.S. Navy. What possible explanation could there be that would justify that?

“The sheriff,” I said. “We’ll get this piece of the Ruby to him and tell him what we saw. He can get it to the CDC people. Or the FBI.”

“There’s nothing right about any of this,” Tori said, still stunned.

We trotted back toward the barn near Tori’s house. The whole way I kept glancing over my shoulder for fear that Granger would come blasting out from the brush in the Jeep with his rifle up and ready. It was a nerve-wracking ride, but we made it back safely and started to pull the saddles off the tired horses.

“Maybe we should tell your father,” I offered.

“No,” she said instantly. “He’s got enough to worry about, and…”

Her voice trailed off.

“And what?”

Tori struggled to find the right words, as if she was wrestling to understand her own feelings.

“I don’t want him to be in danger too.”

“You think we’re in danger?” I asked.

Tori shrugged. “I think we saw something they didn’t want us to see.”

“Damn,” I said. “Let’s get this stuff to the sheriff.”

We went right to Tori’s scooter and she drove us back into town. Neither of us said anything on the way. I think I was in shock. In the last few weeks I had seen more people die than, well, than ever. As horrible as the deaths of Marty Wiggins and Mr. Nelson were, they were nothing compared to what we saw out on the bluffs by Tori’s house. Those people didn’t just die, they were killed. Shot. Hunted down. Was it murder? Could it be justified? I had trouble believing that our military had a policy of killing unarmed civilians, quarantine or no quarantine. There had to be another way to deal with people who were trying to leave the island. I wanted to talk to my parents about it, but Tori’s words kept ringing in my ears. Maybe it was better if they didn’t know. My hope was that we would drop the sample of the Ruby and the mysterious black material off with the sheriff, he’d get it to the proper authorities, they’d figure out that it was the cause of all of our problems, and then the SYLO soldiers would get the hell off Pemberwick.

Riding into Arbortown, I was struck by how normal the place looked. Boredom had replaced fear and people had returned to the streets. The only sign that things were different from any other typical September day were the soldiers that patrolled the streets…and the warships lying offshore.

Tori took us right to Sheriff Laska’s office, which was a small one-story building on the opposite end of Main Street from the harbor. There was nothing official looking about the place. From the outside it could have been a candle shop or a bookstore. Tori and I stepped into the lobby area, where a receptionist sat behind a desk doing paperwork. Or a crossword puzzle, I couldn’t tell.

“Is Sheriff Laska in?” I asked.

“Sure is,” the lady replied brightly. She could have been somebody’s gray-haired grandma. “Who should I say has come calling?”

I looked to Tori to see if she wanted to answer for herself, but she had gone back into silent mode.

“Tucker Pierce and Tori Sleeper,” I answered. “We have something important to show him.”

“Well, then,” the lady said, putting on an official tone that I didn’t believe for a second. She had a hint of a condescending smile as if she thought we were two children who were there to report a cat stuck in a tree. “I’ll get him right out here.”

She stood and walked quickly down the hallway that led to offices in the back of the building.

“She thinks this is a joke,” Tori said.

“That won’t last,” I replied.

Sheriff Laska came right out, rolling his ample gut into the room. His receptionist followed and sat at her desk.

“So,” he declared. “Young Master Pierce and Lady Sleeper. What brings you here?”

I looked at Tori. Tori looked at the ground.

It was up to me.

Seeing this guy standing there in an official uniform suddenly made me tense up. This was no joke. We were about to throw down some serious accusations. I had to be careful. I decided to start with the Ruby and the black debris before jumping right in with the murder stuff.

“I…I think we found what SYLO is looking for,” I declared.

The sheriff lifted a surprised eyebrow.

“That so? And what exactly might that be?”

I looked around and saw a box of tissues on the receptionist’s desk. “Can I?” I asked the lady.

“Help yourself, sweetie,” she said with a smile.

I grabbed a tissue and used it to pull the chunk of Ruby out of my pocket. Using the tissue as a protective pillow, I held it out to the sheriff.

“It’s called the Ruby,” I said. “A ton of it washed up on shore not far from Tori’s house. There’s a guy named Feit on the island who’s been grinding it up and pushing it on people, trying to get them to take it. He’s calling it a sports supplement. Marty Wiggins took some before he died. That’s why he was playing like he did. I know some other players who took some, too, but not as much. They said it suddenly made them stronger and run faster.”

I decided not to throw Kent under the bus for having taken the stuff. Or myself, for that matter.

“Then a couple of horses that Tori was taking care of got into the load on the beach. They ran around like super horses, then dropped dead. Just like Marty. For all we know that’s what killed Mr. Nelson, too.”

The sheriff wore a scowl that seemed to deepen with every word I said. He glanced toward Tori.

Tori offered a small shrug as if to confirm what I’d said was true.

“We think this is what’s causing the deaths on Pemberwick. But the CDC people can tell for sure.”

Sheriff Laska stared at the red crystal and reached out to take it, but then pulled his hand back quickly and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was afraid to touch it. That was good. It meant he was taking us seriously.

“There’s more,” I said and showed him the chunk of black plastic. “A bunch of this stuff washed up on shore in the same spot. We think it’s wreckage from the boat or the airplane that was bringing this stuff to Pemberwick.”

“Airplane?” Laska asked, raising his eyebrow.

“We found it all really close to where Quinn Carr and I saw that shadow explode a few weeks ago.”

I intentionally didn’t mention that Tori had seen the explosion too. As far as the sheriff knew, the only witnesses were her dad, me, and Quinn.

I added, “We still haven’t heard any news about what that was. If you ask me, it’s got something to do with SYLO. It’s just too coincidental.”

Laska took the piece of material and looked at it with a frown. He kept turning it over and over as if expecting to find an answer to the puzzle written on the back.

“That’s some story,” he finally said. “You say there’s a bunch of that red stuff washed up on shore and some fella is going around giving it to people?”

“His name’s Feit,” I replied. “He’s an off-islander. He tried to get me to take it, saying how great I’d play if I did.”

Laska wheezed out a laugh. “Well, you couldn’t play much worse, now could ya?”

I didn’t appreciate the humor and stared at him blankly.

Laska stopped laughing.

“Sorry, that was a cheap shot,” he said sheepishly.

“There’s something else,” Tori said.

This was it. We were about to drop the bomb on SYLO.

“And what’s that?” Laska asked.

“Yes,” came a voice from the corridor. “I’d like to hear more.”

I froze. I recognized the voice from TV.