D. MacHale - SYLO

“Now go!” Quinn yelled.

We hit the main road and I gunned it. Part of me wanted to jam the pedal to the floor and speed as quickly as possible out to Tori’s, but that would have been inviting attention. Our only chance was to blend in and avoid any SYLO soldiers who had been alerted to look for us.

Tori’s house was about ten miles out of town along the Memagog Highway. There was no alternate route. I gripped the wheel so tightly I was afraid it would snap, and I constantly glanced at the rearview mirror, expecting to see a black Humvee speed up from behind. My stomach was in a knot, waiting for the worst to happen at any second.

Quinn must have felt the same way because he didn’t say a word. I think he was holding his breath.

We were about two-thirds of the way there and I started to think we might make it, when a black speck appeared in the road far ahead of us. A red flashing light shot from the grill. It was a Humvee.

“Damn,” Quinn cursed.

I looked left and right, hoping for a side road, ready to roll the dice and turn off in the hopes that they hadn’t seen us. There was nothing but an unbroken line of trees. It was the worst possible spot to cross paths with the enemy.

“Turn into the woods,” Quinn cried.

“That’s crazy. We wouldn’t get twenty yards.”

“But we can’t just give up!”

I squeezed the wheel even tighter. The black speck with the flashing light grew larger as we sped closer.

“Maybe they don’t know it’s us,” I offered.

“Yeah, right, and maybe Granger’s really a good guy,” Quinn said sarcastically.

The odds of either weren’t good, but we had no choice. We had to keep going.

The Humvee loomed large. I took my foot off the gas in anticipation of the car skidding to a stop on our side of the road, cutting us off.

“Duck down,” I ordered.

“Why?”

“They’re looking for two guys. Maybe if they only see one they’ll—”

Too late. The Humvee screamed by without stopping.

Quinn and I kept looking ahead, both afraid to turn to see brake lights, which would mean it was going to come after us. Seconds passed and I finally looked in the rearview mirror to see the Humvee disappearing toward town.

We both let out a relieved breath.

“So then, who are they after?” Quinn asked.

My mind raced ahead to our destination, making the answer obvious.

“Maybe they already found who they were after,” I said and jammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The truck skidded on sand, the wheels bit, and we took off. My fear was that SYLO had already gotten to Tori and she was a prisoner in the Humvee. I didn’t care about being inconspicuous anymore. I wanted to get to her house as fast as possible. It took only a few more tense minutes before I saw the turnoff to the Sleepers’ lagoon-side house. I made the turn while barely slowing down and screamed up the sandy driveway. We bumped along until we hit the clearing that was their yard, where I slammed on the brakes, killed the engine, and ran toward the house.

“Tori!” I called.

I ran up onto the porch and right to the front door, where I hammered more than knocked.

“Are you in there?” I called.

My answer was a shotgun blast that blew out the window next to the door.

“Whoa!” Quinn screamed as we both hit the ground and covered up.

“The next one’s aimed at you!” Tori yelled from inside.

“It’s Tucker! And Quinn! Don’t shoot!”

Neither of us dared to move. I didn’t want to have to deal with Granger, but at that moment I was more worried about tangling with Tori. I dared to look up at the door and saw the curtain pull aside to reveal Tori inside, peering out.

A second later the door opened and Tori came out holding a shotgun to her shoulder, ready to fire again.

“You alone?” she demanded.

“Yes!” I shouted without getting up. “We came to warn you. Granger knows we saw him shoot those guys. He’s coming after us.”

Tori’s eyes were wild. She scanned the yard as if looking for any hidden threats.

“They’ve already been here,” she said, and I sensed the confusion in her voice. She was putting on a good show of strength, but she was upset.

“We saw a Humvee screaming the other way into town,” Quinn said. “What happened?”

“They took my father,” Tori replied. Her voice was shaking. Gone was the bold protector of their property.

Quinn and I stood up cautiously, neither convinced she wouldn’t suddenly turn the gun on us again.

Quinn said, “And they left you here?”

“They couldn’t find me,” Tori replied. “There’s a root cellar you can get to through the pantry. If you don’t know it’s there, you’d never see it. Dad made me hide down there just before they barged in and starting shoving him around. They wanted to know where I was. Dad reacted the only way he knows how, with his fists. He wasn’t about to let some thugs take his little girl.”

Tori lowered the gun and started to cry. Seeing that was almost as unsettling as her pointing the shotgun at me. The girl who rarely showed her emotions was finally breaking down.

“They dragged him out like…like some criminal,” she said, her words clutching. “What the hell is going on?”

I didn’t know where to begin to answer that question. The only thing I knew for certain was that the three of us were about as alone as could be. There was nowhere for us to go and nobody to turn to for help.

Quinn said, “Tuck’s parents, and my parents…they’re working with SYLO.”

Tori stiffened with surprise.

“What? How is that possible?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” I said. “But we heard that something is about to happen. Something huge. They’re afraid that if we tell people about what we know, there’ll be a riot and the island will explode.”

“What’s going to happen?” Tori asked, sounding lost. “What could be so bad that they’re willing to kill people to keep it quiet?”

My ear caught a faint sound that broke through the normal ocean and wind sounds of the remote property.

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. “Listen.”

We all stood still, straining to understand what the alien sound could be.

Tori heard it too. “What is that?”

The sound grew louder. It was a steady thumping noise that quickly grew louder.

“Helicopter,” Quinn announced. “They’re coming back.”

“That root cellar!” Quinn declared, taking off on a dead run for the house. “We’ll all hide down there.”

Tori started right after him.

“No!” I shouted. “The truck!”

Dad’s pickup was sitting right in front of the house, a dead giveaway that we were there. Seeing that, SYLO would tear the place apart looking for us. Tori put on the brakes and changed direction.

“The barn,” she declared.

There was no need for her to explain. I sprinted back to the truck and jumped in the cab while Tori went for the barn and swung the doors open. The engine fired quickly, though I could still hear the sound of the rapidly approaching chopper over its rumble.

“Hurry, man,” Quinn urged through the driver’s window.

I hit the gas, spun the wheel, and drove straight for the barn. There was no way of knowing if they had already spotted the truck. All we could do was hope they couldn’t see this far ahead. And pray. Tori had barely gotten the doors open when I tore through, careening toward the back wall. I jammed on the brakes, skidded across loose hay, and crashed into a stack of lobster traps that came crashing down onto the hood. Racer and Derby reared up and whinnied at the sudden intrusion. Tori went right to them and calmed them down.