D. MacHale - SYLO

“What’s that?” Tori asked, listening.

I didn’t hear anything but the engines.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Listen,” she commanded.

I did—and immediately heard it. An alien sound cut through the rumbling of the diesels. It was a sound I’d heard before. It sent a chill up my spine.

Tori said, “It sounds like—”

“Music,” I said, finishing her thought.

I instantly looked skyward.

“I’ve heard that before,” she declared.

I held my hand up to quiet her. It was the same sound we had heard on the bluffs the night the shadow exploded. It was a single, sustained note that could have been coming from some celestial instrument.

Only this time I sensed a slight difference.

“There’s more than one,” I declared.

The single voice was joined by another. And another. It was like a heavenly orchestra, with each instrument playing different notes that slowly grew louder…as if they were coming closer.

“Kill the engine,” I demanded.

Tori reacted quickly and shut down both engines. With nothing but the sounds of the open ocean to compete, the musical notes became more distinct. I scanned the sky but saw only stars.

“Is it the same thing?” Tori asked.

“Sure sounds like it.”

Tori ran to the stern and gazed out over the water.

“I don’t see anything at water level,” she declared.

The notes grew louder. I couldn’t tell how many were joining in. Five? Ten? A hundred? There was nothing threatening about them, except for the fact that they existed at all—and that they were growing closer.

“Maybe it’s the SYLO navy,” Tori offered.

“There they are!”

I exclaimed, pointing to the sky.

It was the same as before. A single shadow sailed high above, headed west. When it passed over us, the sustained note reached a peak and then dissipated as it moved west toward the mainland.

“So it wasn’t a boat,” Tori said, spellbound.

“And it’s not alone,” I added.

Another shadow sailed overhead, followed by another. The only time we could see them was when they blotted out the light from the stars as they crossed over us.

“Are they giant bats?” Tori asked.

“Giant musical exploding bats?” I replied skeptically. “That carry cargo?”

All of them were the same size and shape, like stingrays with no tails. They each traveled in a straight line with no obvious mechanical movement or engine sound to reveal how they were staying aloft. It was hard to tell how big they were because I couldn’t judge their altitude. If they were close, then they weren’t big at all. They could have been the size of dinner plates. But if they were far away and high in the sky, they were massive. I couldn’t judge their thickness either. All we could see in the dark were two-dimensional black shapes—shapes that floated by while playing musical notes.

“Are we hearing their engines?” I asked. “Is that what’s making the music?”

“I don’t know, but there are hundreds of them,” Tori said in awe.

A crackling voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Are you seeing this?”

It was Quinn. I grabbed the device and squeezed the talk button.

“Yes. Just like the other night,” I said.

“Maybe they’re angels,” Quinn responded.

I looked to Tori. She frowned.

“Be serious,” I called back. “And keep the air clear. We don’t want to be tracked.”

“I guess it could be SYLO,” Tori said. “Maybe they’re some kind of reconnaissance drones.”

“Then they’re not looking for us,” I announced. “Or they suck.”

Tori said, “But if they’re SYLO, it raises another scary possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“The explosion, the wreckage, and the Ruby. Does that mean SYLO was bringing the Ruby to Pemberwick Island?”

I snapped a quick look to her. “I don’t want to even think of that possibility.”

She shrugged. “Just sayin’. If they’re military, then they might really be from SYLO. And if the thing that exploded was full of the Ruby…”

She let her voice trail off.

Quinn called, “That’s the last of ’em.”

The sky was clear again, with nothing but twinkling stars shining down on us, unobstructed.

Quinn continued, “Let’s keep on going and—whoa, look!”

Without seeing where he was looking, I had no idea what he was talking about.

Tori did. She pointed toward the mainland.

“There,” she declared.

The sky over the mainland was lighting up, backlighting the contour of the horizon. It was a spectacular light show that stretched to either side but seemed concentrated over the area near Portland. There was no sound, only light. The colors were brilliant, as if a rainbow was erupting in the sky that was even more dramatic than the explosion we had seen weeks before. It looked like the aurora borealis had descended on the coast of Maine.

“Is there some holiday light show happening in Portland?” Quinn called over the walkie.

I keyed the talk switch but didn’t say a word. I couldn’t think of any.

The stunning lights silhouetted the swarm of black shadows that flew toward shore. There were too many to count. They flew together, as if—

“It’s a formation,” Tori said with a gasp. “They’re coordinated. Are they creating those lights?”

I had no answer. We floated there, watching the light show for several minutes. Unlike my earlier sighting of the mysterious shadow, there were no flashes of light that came from the ocean. The impossible display had momentarily made us forget our own dire situation…until reality came flooding back.

“I got trouble,” Quinn announced over the walkie.

“What?” I called.

“I killed the engines so I could hear the shadows and now I can’t start ’em up again. I think maybe they’re flooded.”

I looked at Tori and said, “We gotta get out of here. If we’re seeing this, so is the Navy, and they might come to investigate.”

“Damn,” Tori snarled and grabbed the walkie to talk to Quinn. “You may have a gas fume buildup. Put the throttles in neutral and run the electric bilge blower. It’s the silver toggle to the right of the ignition. Do you see it?”

We waited. I couldn’t take my eyes off the mainland and the spectacular light show.

“Quinn?” she called.

“I got it,” he replied. “The blower’s working. How long will this take?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes. Be patient. When you crank it, don’t do it for any more than ten seconds or you’ll flood it again.”

“Understood,” was Quinn’s response. “What the hell is going on over there?”

The light show not only continued, it grew more dramatic, rising high into the sky and blotting out the stars above Portland.

“What about us ?” I asked, nodding toward the throttles.

Tori cranked the ignition and the engine fired. The second started just as easily.

“Maybe we should go get Quinn,” she said.

I kept staring at the mainland as if hypnotized by the display. I don’t know how long we floated there. Minutes? Many minutes?

“Tucker? Are we going after Quinn?”

A shrieking sound tore through the sky. There was nothing musical about it. The sound was so painfully deafening that we had to cover our ears. We both fell to the deck and dared to look up to the sky to see…

“Fighters,” I cried.

Four fighter planes, also silhouetted against the stars but much more recognizable as military aircraft, tore over us, headed in the same direction as the shadows. They traveled in formation for several more seconds, then broke apart. One went left, another right. The two in the middle stayed the course, headed straight for the shadows. We could see them easily because of the backdrop of flashing lights over the mainland.