D. MacHale - SYLO

There was a moment…a perfect moment of peace in which I allowed myself to believe that we were only small fish in the general scheme of things. Granger had invaded the rebel camp and had either killed or captured most of the people he was after. The revolution had been squashed; his hold on the island was secured. Did that mean we didn’t matter to him anymore? It was a nice thought that I tried to convince myself was true.

We were approaching the northernmost spot of Chinicook. Once we rounded the point and turned west, we’d be able to see the mainland five miles away and begin our run to freedom. I gripped the wheel and gently eased the hurtling boat into a turn. The craft responded instantly. Tori had chosen well. I looked ahead to see the rocky promontory that was the tip of Chinicook. I had to be careful not to cut it too close. I eased the wheel to port, made the gentle turn and…

…my moment of peace instantly vanished.

“Oh my God,” Kent said with an incredulous gasp.

Though we were facing due west, we couldn’t see the mainland because the view was blocked by a line of naval warships that stretched across the horizon for miles.

“Please tell me this is a bad dream,” Olivia muttered.

There was every kind of ship imaginable: cruisers, destroyers, assault ships, frigates…it looked like the entire Atlantic fleet had arrived at the Maine coast. Pemberwick Island was blockaded. Access to the mainland was completely cut off.

“Turn back,” Kent said.

I didn’t react to his demand. I think I might have been in shock.

“Turn back!” Kent screamed into my ear.

“Why?” I yelled back at him. “To end up back in that prison?”

“Tori needs help,” Olivia announced. “We can get her to a hospital on the island.”

“We all need help,” Kent argued. “They’re gonna blow us out of the water!”

“Stop, all right,” I shouted. “I gotta think.”

“There’s nothing to think about,” Kent shouted. “This is suicide.”

“No,” Tori called in a weak voice. “Going back is suicide. Out here we’ve got a chance.”

“Seriously?” Kent replied. “There’s us—and the entire freakin’ Navy. What kind of chance is that?”

As we argued, we continued to speed toward the fleet. It was hard to tell how far away the ships were. A mile? Two miles?

“My father died fighting back against SYLO,” Tori said. “He didn’t give up and neither will I.”

“Hey, my father’s gone too,” Kent yelled back. “We’ve all lost family. Except Tucker. His parents are fine. They’re working for the bad guys.”

I let go of the wheel and nailed Kent with a punch that sent him to the deck.

“Stop it!” Olivia shouted in tears.

I grabbed the wheel again and kept us heading west—toward the blockade.

“That’s just great,” Kent said, rubbing his sore jaw. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

As I stood at the wheel, I honestly didn’t know what I was trying to do. Going back meant prison, assuming we even made it to shore without getting shot or blown out of the water. Going forward meant sailing into the teeth of the Navy. There was no third option. I didn’t think that the situation could get any worse until—

It got worse.

“Oh no…no,” Olivia cried with despair.

I turned to see that she was looking back toward Pemberwick, where another boat had just rounded the tip of Chinicook and was headed our way.

“Please tell me that’s one of the boats from the cave,” she whined.

Kent stood up and took a hard look back.

“It isn’t,” he replied soberly. “That’s a fast-attack military boat.” He turned to me and said, “What do you want to bet that Granger’s on board?”

“I hope he is,” Olivia said hopefully. “We can surrender to him.”

Any thought of surrender being a good idea was shattered when the pursuing gunboat opened fire on us. The clatter of a machine gun was unmistakable, even above our roaring engines.

“Jeez!” Kent yelled and fell to the deck along with Olivia.

I started to do short, quick course corrections to make us a difficult target. I had no idea of the range of that gun, or if we were fast enough to stay ahead of them, or if I even knew what I was doing. I was acting out of instinct rather than experience. I knew boats, not hurtling pieces of machinery. Or guns.

“Still want to go back?” I yelled.

I got no answers.

The hope of escape was fading rapidly. It was now about survival.

“I’m going for the fleet,” I said. “Maybe there’s somebody there with a cooler head who will capture us instead of—oh my God.”

“What now?” Kent yelled.

I pointed west, to the sky over the mainland, where a long line of what looked like black dots had appeared. They were high enough that they could be seen above the warships—and they were growing larger.

“They’re back,” Tori said, aghast.

“I don’t think the Navy’s going to worry about dealing with us,” I added soberly.

“Why?” Kent asked anxiously. “What are they?”

There was too much engine noise for us to hear the musical engines of the incoming aircraft, but there was no mistake: A formation of the mysterious fighter craft was headed our way. Behind us the gunboat was closing but had stopped firing. I didn’t know if that was because they were waiting until they could get a better shot, or because they had seen the incoming aircraft and were just as stunned as we were.

“What do we do?” Olivia asked in a shaky voice.

I had no idea and didn’t have time to wonder because the war was about to begin.

The first shot was fired by the Navy.

A missile was launched from one of the ships. Followed by another and then another… all aimed at the incoming swarm of planes.

As the dark spots in the sky grew close enough for us to make out their stingray shape, they quickly scattered to evade the missiles. There were far more of them than we had seen in the earlier battle. It was an invasion-level force with multiple waves of planes. Several missiles found their mark, hitting the dark crafts and turning them into spectacular fireballs in the sky. The fiery wrecks plummeted to earth, splashing down in the ocean on the far side of the line of Navy vessels.

Kent joined me at the control console, his eyes fixed on the mayhem in the sky.

“What are they?” he asked numbly. “Stealth bombers?”

“I don’t know. They’re not like any planes I ever heard of. According to Feit, they belong to SYLO.”

“So that would make the Navy the good guys,” Kent said. “But SYLO is part of the Navy, so why would they be shooting at their own planes?”

My mind raced, calculating the possibilities.

“It doesn’t make sense. Unless…”

“Unless what?” he pressed.

“Unless Feit was lying.”

We shared sober looks. That possibility turned everything on its ear, once again.

“So who do we root for?” Kent asked.

“I wish I knew.”

The clatter of a machine gun added to the mayhem. I whipped around to see that the attack boat had drawn closer and had opened fire on us. I’d almost forgotten about it. Almost. I took another quick turn, nearly throwing Kent off of his feet.

“Stop that!” he complained.

“Do you want to get shot?” I yelled.

Kent started to argue, but held back and said, “Do what you gotta do.”

The Navy kept launching an intense barrage of missiles, creating a daytime fireworks display in the sky. Some hit, most didn’t. The black fighters were amazingly agile as they quickly veered to avoid being hit. I had the fleeting hope that the Navy’s attention would be so focused on the aerial attack we would be able to slip past them unnoticed.