D. MacHale - SYLO

“Where are the boats?” Olivia asked frantically. “I don’t see any boats.”

“They wouldn’t be out in the open,” I said. “Or they would have been spotted.”

“So then where are they?” Kent demanded to know. “This isn’t the right spot.”

“Yes, it is,” Tori said. “Look.”

She pointed down to the right, where we saw several people hurrying down a winding switchback trail, headed for the water.

“They have the same idea,” she said.

“There’s the trailhead,” I exclaimed and ran twenty yards along the bluff’s edge until we hit the narrow spit of sand that marked the beginning of the trail.

The path was steep and the footing was bad. One slip and it would be a very long drop to the rocky beach below.

“I’m wearing flip-flops!” Olivia complained.

“Take ’em off!” I yelled back.

I don’t know if she did it or not, but she kept moving.

We had gotten about halfway down to the water when I heard someone yell, “Tucker!”

I stopped and looked back up to see Mr. Feit standing on the edge of the bluff. I had almost forgotten about the guy.

He started running for the trailhead and shouted, “I’m coming with you!”

“No, he’s not,” Kent growled. “Keep moving.”

For once I agreed with Kent. I was about to continue moving when we heard a sharp crack . It was a rifle shot. SYLO had caught up.

I looked back up to see that Feit wasn’t running anymore. He wasn’t moving at all. He just stood on the edge of the bluff as if admiring the view.

“What is he doing?” Olivia asked.

The answer came quickly. Feit’s knees buckled and he fell. Not to the ground—over the cliff. It was a grisly sight that I couldn’t take my eyes off as he bounced from rock to rock, each impact changing his direction, spinning his body, until he landed with a huge splash in the bay.

Just like that, the pusher who had brought the Ruby into our lives was gone.

“I hope to God he was dead before that fall,” Tori said.

“I hope he wasn’t,” Kent snarled. “He deserved to feel all of that.”

The shock of witnessing Feit’s gruesome death momentarily made me forget why it had happened. SYLO was closing in.

“Let’s move,” I ordered and continued the treacherous journey down the narrow path.

There was no way to know how close the shot came from. Was it long-range sniper fire? Or would SYLO soldiers be peering over the edge at any second and take aim at us? When we hit bottom, we found ourselves on a narrow, rocky beach with gentle waves lapping onto the shore. The curve of the bay knocked down the biggest waves, making it a cove that was just right for landing a small boat. Or hiding several.

“Where are they?” Kent asked anxiously.

We all looked up and down the coast, searching for the people who had gotten there before us.

“It’s like they just disappeared,” Olivia cried. “Did we really see them?”

I ignored her. But I didn’t know where the boats were, either—until the loud rumbling of an engine firing to life told us that we were in the right place.

“Where the hell is it?” Kent asked.

The sound intensified. The engine was throttling up.

“There!” Olivia shouted, pointing.

A sleek cigarette boat blasted out from behind a rock outcropping that had been shielding our view. The monster boat was at full throttle, headed out to sea. On board were four people I didn’t recognize. The sight reminded me of the boat Tori and I had witnessed being blasted out of the water.

“You can’t outrun the Navy like that,” Tori said. “If we’re going to make it, we have to be smart.”

“Lead on, Captain,” I said.

We took off running along the beach and quickly climbed up and over the rock outcropping. Beyond it, the bay curved back toward the bluff where a cave was cut into the steep rock wall that was large enough to accommodate several boats. All the craft were hidden in the shadows but I could see them lined up side by side, waiting. Without a word we scrambled over the rocks and splashed through the waist-deep water until we reached the mouth of the cave.

“That one,” Kent said, pointing to the largest of the set. “That’ll fly.”

“No,” Tori said with authority as she sized up the rest. “I told you, we can’t outrun them. We have to be able to maneuver, and that thing looks like a pig.”

“A fast pig,” Kent argued.

“Sure, if we were taking a single heading,” Tori shot back. “We’re going to need more options.”

“Listen to her, Kent,” Olivia said. “She’s, like…a boat person.”

Tori made a quick appraisal of the small fleet and said, “That one.”

Without waiting for anybody’s approval, she hurried for the chosen boat. It was on the far right end, which made it easier to access. I have to admit that I wasn’t so sure about her choice at first. It was a V-hull open-deck sport boat, about thirty-seven feet long with a center console and two padded pilot seats. There weren’t any bells and whistles. All the boats were simple craft that were built for performance, not comfort. Mr. Sleeper and his rogues must have scoured the island until they found the five fastest boats on Pemberwick. Tori’s choice looked like it could maneuver well enough, but at first glance it didn’t look to have the same horsepower as the other, bigger craft.

That is, until we climbed on board.

“Wow,” Kent said. “Never saw a rig like that.”

The boat was powered by four identical 250-horsepower Mercury engines. Any one of them would have provided enough horsepower to make the boat fly. I couldn’t imagine what they would do together.

“You say we can’t outrun the Navy,” I said. “But this gives us a shot.”

Tori was focused on the console, familiarizing herself with the controls.

“That’s not why I picked it,” she said. “I want to maneuver.”

“Can we go now?” Olivia asked.

“Cast off the line,” Tori commanded.

I jumped to the stern to see that all the boats were anchored to a spot deep within the cave. I cast off the line and tossed it to shore.

“Clear,” I announced. “It’s deep enough to turn the props.”

Tori fired up the first engine. Its low, throaty growl boomed through the cave and rattled my gut. She started each of the others in turn. The power these motors put out was almost scary.

“Kent, walk us out of here,” Tori commanded.

Kent went to the starboard side, reached over the rail, and walked his hands along the rail of the next boat over to move us forward.

I sat down on the stern bench and looked forward as we slowly slipped from the protection of the cave. There was nothing for me to do but go for a ride. It was a sobering moment.

This was it. Our last shot. We were going to make a run for the mainland in broad daylight. There was no halfway. No moral victory to be had. No Plan B. We were either going to make it…or die.

I felt strangely at peace, much like I had felt that morning as I watched the sun rise. The plan may have changed but the feeling that I had that morning remained true. This was the end game. It was an oddly peaceful feeling, though I knew it was the calm before the storm. The final storm. One way or another, it would soon be over.

I thought of Quinn and said, “ This is the Pemberwick Run.”

“Buckle up,” Tori barked.

The boat crept into the sun, slipping out from its hiding place, purring, ready to launch. I got up and sat next to Tori, who was buckling her seat belt. What kind of boat had seat belts? It was yet another clue that we were in for a wild ride. I sat to her right and did the same. Kent and Olivia sat directly behind us on the seat that ran the width of the stern. They too buckled in.