D. MacHale - SYLO

Behind us, the attack boat was still closing but had stopped firing again. All I could do was keep pushing ahead.

From the south, four new fighters entered the fight. They were traditional military jets that had probably come from an aircraft carrier. With their arrival the sea-to-air battle turned into a dogfight. The streaking military jets broke formation and made runs at the black crafts, launching their missiles, then pulling out to set up for another pass. Several more shadow planes exploded and dropped from the sky.

“This is horrible,” Olivia said with a gasp. “We’re watching people die.”

“Why aren’t they fighting back?” Tori called.

Her answer came seconds later, when the black planes went on the attack. I expected them to unleash the laser-like weapons we had witnessed before. Instead, what we saw were explosions on the Navy ships without any sign of the missiles that caused them. There were no flashes of light, no smoke trails, no clatter of guns. But the black planes were definitely firing, for they would swoop down low for an attack run and then seconds later an explosion would erupt on one of the ships. The only thing I can say for sure was that they were not using the weapon that made the Patricia evaporate.

The four fighter planes were given the same treatment. A black plane would chase one down, and then seconds later it would be blown out of the sky without warning.

Tori struggled to join us at the console. She was in pain and needed to hold on to the control panel for support but she fought through it to be with us.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Why aren’t they using the weapons they used before?”

Nobody had the answer. Instead of the ships lighting up and disappearing, the results were much more conventional. Fires burned everywhere. The ships finally started to take evasive maneuvers as the long line that had blockaded Pemberwick Island went ragged. Within minutes most every ship had been hit and was damaged to one degree or another. Some fatally. A few listed and started to sink. Smoke billowed from the ships and settled over the ocean like a dense, dark fog. The smell of burning oil hit us quickly.

“This is our chance,” I exclaimed. “We can try and make our way through.”

“You want to drive us through that mess?” Kent said.

I glanced back at the attack boat that was still on our tail.

“It’s either that,” I said, “or face off with them. I’d rather take my chances picking our way through.”

I had seen movies of battles at sea, but nothing compared to the reality of what we were barreling toward. The Navy was taking heavy losses. We were still maybe a half mile from the first ship but we could already see lifeboats in the water. The jet fighters weren’t doing much better. Several more rocketed in and took down their share of the black planes, but every last one of them paid the price and was blown out of the sky. Still, there was no sign of the deadly laser weapons.

“It’s daylight,” Tori said.

“Yeah, so?” Kent said.

“Maybe that’s why those laser-light weapons don’t work. They might not function when it’s light out.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kent said. “They don’t need any laser guns. The Navy’s getting their ass kicked.”

“Are they?” Tori argued. “They’re knocking a lot of those planes out of the sky.”

“But the planes keep coming,” Kent shot back. “There could be thousands of ’em.”

“And that’s as far as they’re getting,” Tori said thoughtfully. “The Navy’s targeting the lead planes like they’re trying to prevent them from getting any further. None of them have made it past the ships.”

“Why would the Navy care?” I asked. “If they’re protecting the mainland, it’s back the other way.”

Tori looked me dead in the eye and said, “But Pemberwick Island is this way.”

The idea rocked me.

Was it possible that the Navy was here not just to quarantine Pemberwick Island, but to protect it?

The sound of machine gun fire brought us back to our immediate trouble. The attack boat had closed considerably and was firing at us again.

“Doesn’t that guy ever give up?” Kent asked angrily.

“We gotta go for it,” I said. “I’m driving us through the battle. It’s our only chance of losing him.”

I changed direction slightly to take us on a more direct path to the turmoil on the sea. Thick smoke from the burning vessels was growing. It would make perfect cover.

“When we hit the smoke, I’ll change direction,” I said.

“You gotta be careful, Tucker,” Tori cautioned. “There’s a lot of debris in the water.”

Debris was a nice word for the mess we were speeding toward. Huge chunks of steel that had been torn from the warships were floating everywhere…and then there were the warships themselves. Most were still under power and taking evasive action but many were foundering. Several were dead in the water or sinking fast. We didn’t want to collide with a ship fifty times our size or run down a life raft full of sailors. It was a dangerous, moving minefield but navigating through it was our best hope for escape—and survival.

“I don’t like this one bit,” Olivia said the instant before we hit the leading edge of the smoke.

It was like driving into a fog—a dense black fog that smelled of death.

“Slow down, Tucker,” Tori wisely suggested.

I eased back on the throttles and it was a good thing I did because no sooner did we drop our speed than our bow was crossed by a frigate that had no idea we were there. We were buffeted by its wake and Tori was thrown to the deck. She hit hard and yelped with pain.

Olivia instantly ran to her and helped get her into the copilot’s seat.

“I’m okay,” Tori said through gritted teeth.

“You should buckle in,” I said.

Before Tori could respond, Olivia snapped the belt around her waist.

“That feel okay?” she asked.

Tori nodded, though she wasn’t feeling close to okay.

Olivia gave her a comforting rub on her good arm. I was beginning to like Olivia, and it had nothing to do with memories of her bikini. She may have been totally out of her comfort zone, as we all were, but she showed a caring side that made me realize she was more than just a pretty, spoiled rich girl. I guess conflict brings out the best in people. Or in some cases, the worst. I won’t mention any names.

It was no longer about speed. We had entered into a game of cat and mouse with an attack boat on our tail that was hunting for us.

“Relax Tucker,” Tori said. “If you grip the wheel any tighter, you’ll snap it.”

“I’m fine,” I said, lying.

“I know you are,” she replied. “You’re doing great.”

From her, that was a huge compliment. It helped my confidence. A little. My entire concentration was focused on the few feet ahead of our bow.

“I’m changing course,” I announced. “Or it’ll be too easy to track us.”

Visibility was near zero but not being able to see the action didn’t mean that it didn’t exist. The steady whoosh sound of missiles being fired and tearing through the sky, exploding planes, and watery crashes meant that the fierce battle was still raging. Being in the center of the conflict, blind, was beyond nerve-wracking. There was no way to know if we were on a collision course with a ship, beneath a burning plane that was tumbling out of the sky, or about to be strafed by Granger.

“Keep headed west,” Tori said, tapping the compass.

I listened for the engine of the gun boat, but there was too much else going on for me to pick it out. For all I knew it was only a few feet back, ready to blow us out of the water.