D. MacHale - SYLO

The lock snapped and the door opened as easily as if it were a flimsy latch on a dollhouse. The metal lattice of the door was bent and twisted by the sheer force of my grip. I had a feeling of complete dominance. I couldn’t wait to use it again. I was ready to tear down an entire section of fence, if need be.

I turned back to see Kent running up behind me.

“Don’t stop now,” he whispered, breathless.

I ran through the gate, confident that Kent would close it to cover our tracks. I sprinted the distance of the corridor, sure that my fleeting shadow wouldn’t be seen, until I reached a gate on the far side. Tearing this open was as easy as opening the first. We had arrived at the driving range, beyond which was the clubhouse where I had been repeatedly Q-tipped. An ambulance was parked in front.

Kent caught up and closed the gate behind us. Without a word we both sprinted for the safety of the shadows behind a row of Porta-potties. My confidence was high. I felt invincible. It took a load of willpower to stay calm, both physically and mentally. All it would take was being spotted by a SYLO guard and we’d be done. No amount of the Ruby would protect us from a bullet.

“You still want to go after Sleeper?” Kent whispered.

I nodded.

Kent frowned, then peered around the corner—and quickly pulled back. He held a single finger to his lips. There was no need to explain. Somebody was out there. He held his hand up as if to say, “Don’t move.”

I heard the door of the Porta-potty squeak open. Whoever was out there had come to take a leak. All we had to do was wait him out, but that was easier said than done. The Ruby was surging through my body, demanding that I move. It felt like a bomb had gone off inside of me and the only way I could release the pressure was to do something physical.

I heard the splash of the guy peeing and hoped that was all he had to do. If he had gone in there with a magazine, I’d have to scream. I looked at Kent to see how he was holding up. He was doing better than me. He held both hands out as if to say, “Stay calm.” I clenched my fists, hoping that pumping them would help relieve the pent-up energy.

Mercifully, I heard the sound of the potty door slam. Kent got on his hands and knees to peer around the corner.

“C’mon,” I urgently whispered.

Kent held up his hand to keep me back for a few more seconds, then motioned for me to come forward.

“He went inside the clubhouse,” he whispered. “Let’s make our way around the outside. I want to get close to the ambulance before you go after Sleeper.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I jumped up and ran for the fence, staying low, relieved to be moving. I ran parallel to the fence, jumping over obstacles, willing myself to appear as nothing more than a fleeting shadow. I wasn’t frightened. The Ruby gave me a feeling of invincibility. This wasn’t good because we were extremely “vincible.” That much had been proven by Marty Wiggins. And Peter Nelson. And Kent’s father. And, and, and.

I ran up to one of the large military trucks that were used as troop transports and hid there. From that vantage point I could see the ambulance parked in front of the clubhouse. A guy wearing a red EMT-like jumpsuit with a SYLO logo on the sleeve entered the driver’s side. He wasn’t armed, which gave me hope.

It didn’t last. My stomach sank when I saw a SYLO soldier who was armed open the rear door of the ambulance and climb in back. He was riding shotgun. Literally. The ambulance rolled past the clubhouse and up to a small guard shack near the front gate of the country club. The driver spoke a few words to the guy in the shack, after which the iron gates swung open and the ambulance drove out. The gate remained open long enough for another ambulance to drive in and stop in front of the clubhouse. The back door opened and a SYLO soldier jumped out along with a lady who was the perfect image of somebody’s grandma…except that her hands were cuffed behind her back. I didn’t recognize the lady. She was yet another unfortunate victim of the quarantine—and now a prisoner of SYLO. The soldier roughly pulled her into the building and the ambulance drove off to get back in line.

“My God,” I whispered. “This is just crazy!”

“They don’t trust anybody,” Kent replied. “Doesn’t matter how old they are.”

The ambulance did a U-turn and parked back in front of the clubhouse. The EMT-looking driver got out and the ambulance was left unguarded.

Kent said. “I think they just wait there until they get called out to pick somebody up.”

“So we could be waiting here all night,” I said.

“Or it could take off a minute from now.”

“I’m going for Tori,” I said and started to move.

Kent grabbed my arm and said, “If that ambulance goes, I’m on it. With or without you.”

“I’ll be back,” I said and took off.

The women’s area was set up on the next fairway over from the medical area. I knew that from watching where the women went at the end of the day. It was easy to see pretty much everything through the fences. I made my way there quickly, always keeping an eye out for anybody in a uniform. I got as far as the gate that led through to the women’s area when I saw my first patrolling guard. It was a woman who stood like a sentry near the closed and locked gate. She didn’t look as though she was going anywhere soon, so I had to find another way through.

The answer was simple. I climbed the fence. None of the interior fences had razor wire. There was no way we could climb our way out of the compound to freedom without getting slashed, but moving between fairways was easy, especially when fueled by the Ruby. I was up and over the fence in seconds. Getting Tori back over wouldn’t be as easy.

There were five barracks, all similar to mine, and I had no way of knowing which one Tori was in. My only option was to search. I had to hope that if any of the women prisoners were awake and saw me, they’d think I was one of the laundry elves coming to pick up the day’s work. I sprinted to the first building, took a deep breath, and entered.

My only strategy was to get in and out fast. With luck I’d be moving so quickly that I would appear to be nothing more than a shadow, though I couldn’t move too quickly or I might not spot Tori. I zipped in, sprinted between the two rows of cots, quickly checked out the sleeping women on one side then did an about-face and repeated the process while checking out the other side on the way back.

No Tori. At least I didn’t think so. One sleeping lump didn’t look much different from another. I was able to see most of the faces but some of the woman had their blankets up over their heads. I could have missed her but I had to play the odds and keep moving. I flashed into the next barracks and did the same thing. Still no luck. I was beginning to think I would have to come up with a different plan.

I went into the third barracks and sprinted along the row of cots. The last bed on the right held a woman with the blanket covering her face—and a USM cap resting on the footlocker. I moved quickly to the side of the cot, knelt down, and gently pulled back the blanket.

The sleeping woman wasn’t sleeping. Touching her was like releasing the catch on a coiled spring. She lunged forward, hands first, and closed her fingers around my neck in a powerful grip that had to have come from hauling lobster traps her whole life. Her eyes were wild with fear and I have no doubt that she would have strangled me if I hadn’t had ridiculous strength from the Ruby. With one hand I grabbed her wrist; the other I clamped over her mouth.

Tori’s mouth.

“We’re getting out of here,” I said with a strained whisper as her hand stayed clamped around my throat.