D. MacHale - SYLO

“You were right from the get-go,” I said. “There’s more going on here than they’ve been telling us.”

“More than they’re telling anybody ,” Quinn added. “I think this is why communications have been cut off. They don’t want the rest of the world to know what’s going on either.”

The realization hit me like a punch in the gut.

“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “Communications were cut right after I took the Ruby to the sheriff.”

“You were getting too close,” Quinn said.

The idea that Tori and I were the cause of the communication blackout was both stunning and frightening. If Granger was willing to execute people for trying to escape, what would he do to people who were in on his secrets? My only consolation was that I hadn’t told my parents. They couldn’t know until the rest of the world knew…which meant that somehow we had to tell the rest of the world.

We arrived at the Blackbird Inn to see an ambulance parked out front, along with two black Humvees.

“Uh-oh,” said Quinn.

We ran up the driveway in time to see SYLO soldiers stepping out of the front door carrying a stretcher. On it was Mrs. Berringer. She was strapped down, but not to keep her from falling off—it was to keep her under control. She fought against her restraints, desperate to break loose.

“They’re coming!” she shouted. “We have to protect our home! Let me go!”

Moments later, Mr. Berringer sprang from the front door and sprinted off the porch. He was an older guy. There was no way he could run like that. Not normally, anyway. Two SYLO soldiers sprang from behind a Humvee and tackled him. Mr. Berringer fought to get away, but the guys were too strong and quickly wrestled him toward the dark car.

“You can’t do this,” he railed. “We’ll be overrun. They’re coming!”

A second stretcher was carried out of the inn. This one held Kent.

I couldn’t stand it anymore and ran for the house.

“Kent!” I called. “What happened?”

The paramedics put Kent’s stretcher down and helped the others who were struggling to get Mr. Berringer into the Humvee. Kent had mostly come down from the effects of the Ruby, but when he saw me, his eyes flared. Not with power, but with anger.

“Why?” he snarled while straining against his restraints.

“Why what? Did your parents—?”

“The island’s in chaos. They wanted to protect our property from the rioters. What else could they do? And you turned us in.”

“What? No! I didn’t tell anybody.”

Olivia hurried out of the inn and stood close to me.

“This is horrible,” she said with tears in her eyes. “They just started going…crazy!”

She held on to my arm like a frightened child, pressing her body close to mine. It only made Kent angrier. He struggled against the straps that held him onto the stretcher, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re dead, Pierce,” he growled. “I swear I’ll kill you.”

The paramedics returned and one put a firm hand on his chest and said, “Easy. Calm down.”

“Where are you taking them?” Quinn asked.

“The hospital,” the paramedic answered. “Back away, please.”

They lifted Kent up and quickly slid him into the ambulance.

“I’m coming for you, Pierce!” Kent screamed as they closed the doors on him.

Seconds later the Humvees took off, followed by the ambulance with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Olivia buried her face in my chest and cried. “Why is this happening? What is wrong with them?”

I wasn’t about to stand there and explain the Ruby to her.

“It’s the Pemberwick virus,” I said. “Hopefully they’ll catch it in time.”

Olivia looked at me and through sad, teary eyes said, “I’m never going to leave this island, am I?”

“Why don’t you go to the hospital and try to calm Kent down,” I said.

“No,” she said, backing away as if I’d suggested she pay a visit to a leper colony. “I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

She turned and ran into the house, slamming the door behind her.

“Well,” Quinn said. “We’ve got all sorts of drama going on.”

“The Berringers took the Ruby,” I said. “It’s spreading. Those CDC scientists can’t ignore it anymore. They have to put out an announcement to keep people from using it.”

“They won’t,” Quinn said. “Or they would have already.”

“You think they’re hiding the truth too?” I asked.

“I think the whole bunch of them know what’s going on and they’re doing everything they can to keep the truth from leaving this island.”

“But there’s no way they can keep it secret for long. I mean, people on the mainland are going to start asking questions.”

“Maybe,” Quinn said, sounding grim. “Or maybe this is bigger than we can imagine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to my house,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

We left the inn and walked to Quinn’s house without discussing it further. Arbortown was deserted. The stores were all closed. A riot will do that. People must have gone back to their houses to hole up out of fear for what SYLO might do to them if they poked their noses out. I wasn’t worried about the soldiers so much. It was Granger who scared me. He was in charge. He knew it all. And I knew how ruthless he could be.

Worse, he knew I knew.

Quinn’s parents weren’t home. I figured they were doing extra duty at the hospital since so many cases of the Pemberwick virus were being brought in. We went right to Quinn’s room, where he fired up his computer.

“Have you been watching TV?” he asked while the laptop booted up.

“Sure. What else is there to do?”

“Have you noticed that there isn’t much news about Pemberwick anymore? When the invasion first happened, we were all over the place. I mean, Jimmy Kimmel did a whole sketch about being trapped in preppie prison where everybody was forced to wear bright pink and green and eat deviled eggs. But since those first few days, zip. We’re already old news.”

“What about CNN?” I asked.

“Ahh, The Pemberwick Report ,” Quinn said as he keyed in some words. “Every night intrepid reporter Dave Storm comes on at exactly six o’clock with a live, up-to-the-minute report on the latest news from our troubled little island. Check this out.”

He brought up a media player and hit “play.” The familiar image of the CNN anchor Dave Storm came up. He sat at a desk in front of a busy newsroom to deliver the evening report on Pemberwick. There was a logo and everything. The Pemberwick Report. Quinn let it play, but the sound was muted.

“This was the first report. The day after the invasion. I set the DVR to record them all. You know. It’s history. I transferred it all to my laptop.”

“What’s your point?” I asked impatiently.

Quinn stopped the playback, hit a few more keys, and said, “I edited together a few seconds from every report. Check this out.”

He hit “play” again, and the image of Storm came up from the next day’s report. Everything was exactly the same except for his suit. It played silently for a few seconds and then cut to the next day’s report. Again, it was the same thing, only with Dave Storm wearing yet another different suit.

Quinn said, “I’ve got seven reports here. All live. All recorded one day apart at six o’clock.”

Two more clips went past.

“What am I watching?” I asked. “Is he saying something weird?”

“No,” Quinn replied. “He’s not saying much of anything. It’s all about how SYLO is doing a fantastic job and everybody’s fine. In the later reports he mentions the possibility of a few new cases of the virus, but that’s it. There was definitely nothing about the Ruby.”