Storm (13 page)

We had a short window of confusion to try to get the hell out and away while Feit and his soldiers were focused on something other than us.

The steel structure was doomed. Multiple fighter jets screamed overhead and dropped their explosives before blazing off to make way for others to follow. Dozens of missiles hit the field and exploded, turning the framework into a twisted, melting hulk. The sounds of the explosions and the screaming jets made it impossible to think, let alone hear.

The field was ablaze, its heat turning the mezzanine into an oven. Terrified workers fled for their lives. Ironically, many of them survived because the Ruby gave them the speed and power to escape the inferno.

I pushed Tori to get moving, but instead of running she dropped to her knees to retrieve the gun. I wanted to scream at her to leave it but didn’t want to risk turning Feit’s attention back to us. It was a frustrating few seconds . . .
. . . that ended when the injured soldier looked our way. “Stop!” he screamed and lifted his baton gun.
I yanked Tori to her feet and pulled her toward me as the soldier fired. The charge from his gun missed us and blasted the back off one of the stadium seats. It was a far more powerful charge than the one that had knocked the gun from Tori’s hands. They were now shooting to kill.

The shot got the attention of the others. When the second soldier went for his own weapon, I thought we were done.
But Tori had found her gun. She unloaded on them, blasting shot after shot, sending Feit and the soldier down behind the first row of seats.
I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her backward as she continued to shoot, pinning Feit and the soldiers down.
We were nearly at the doors leading outside when I heard a sharp click. Tori had fired her last bullet.
“Move!” I shouted.
I slammed the door open and jumped outside. As soon as we were out, the glass door next to us exploded, sending a spray of glass shards our way.
The soldiers were up and shooting back. The only choice we had was to run.
The bombardment on the field continued. Fenway was rocking, and not in a good way. As each missile hit, the stadium shivered. It felt like we were in a violent earthquake, which made it hard to stay on our feet. We struggled to head back the way we had come, running down the stairs to street level. We were several steps from the ground when a streaking missile tore out of the sky, headed directly for us. “Jump!” I shouted.
We vaulted over the handrail and fell the last few feet to the sidewalk as the missile hit the stairs above us. The force of the explosion threw us forward in a shower of pulverized steel and cement. I hit a light pole with my shoulder and crumbled to the ground. My ears rang, and I had trouble catching my breath, but we weren’t dead.
A cloud of dust swirled, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction. A hand grabbed my shoulder, and I was so surprised I jumped. Turning quickly, I saw Tori’s tear-streaked face inches from mine. Her long, dark curls were caked with the gray dust of what used to be Fenway Park.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded. “We gotta get to the car.”
I struggled to my feet and helped her up. We were both shaken, but uninjured . . . and totally disoriented. Tori grabbed my hand, and we ran.
Through the dust cloud I spotted the Explorer right where we had left it . . .
. . . and another fighter in the sky, headed our way. It released its missile and broke off quickly as the rocket shot ahead and exploded into the side of the old ballpark, sending out a wave of brick and mortar that rained down around us.
“I guess SYLO isn’t done after all,” Tori said breathlessly as we dodged the falling bricks.
When we got to the Explorer, Tori jumped behind the wheel while I got in the passenger side. She fired up the engine while flexing her left hand.
“Is it hurt?” I asked.
“Just numb. What are those guns they have?”
“They must be the same kind of thing the black planes have. It shoots a burst of energy.”
“That’s like science fiction,” Tori said. “Since when does the military have stuff like that?”
“That and lasers that evaporate people and disintegrate buildings, and magic medicine that instantly heals injuries, and fighter planes that sing, and red crystals that turn people into super humans before killing them. The Air Force is using some serious technology.”
“Why doesn’t SYLO have the same stuff?” she asked.
“You’re asking me like I might have an answer.”
Fenway was tumbling. One whole side had collapsed, making the ballpark look more like the remains of the Roman Colosseum than a modern-day stadium. The Navy fighters continued to scream over while launching missiles. The steel structure that Feit called “salvation” was destroyed, yet the punishing attack continued. Terrified people fled from the crumbling stadium. Both soldiers and civilians flooded out from every door, desperate to escape the destruction.
“Drive us back to Faneuil Hall,” I said. “The others have to know what’s going on.”
Tori hit the gas, did a sharp one-eighty, and we sped away from the smoldering wreck that was once Fenway Park.
“Is it possible?” Tori asked, breathless. “Could the Air Force have wiped out most of civilization? How could that help mankind?”
“I don’t know. I can’t get my mind around any of it.”
“What if Feit is right? What if SYLO is plotting something even worse?”
“Worse than genocide?” I asked. “I have trouble believing that.” “Why? Because Feit’s a liar?”
“Because my parents are part of SYLO. I don’t care what they did to me, there’s no way they could buy into something like that.”
“And Feit’s a liar,” she added.
“Yeah, that too.”
“Then why did SYLO choose Pemberwick Island to make a stand?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they thought they could defend it. They sure sent enough firepower there. What I don’t get is how nobody knew a civil war was brewing. You’d think that kind of thing would make the news.”
“Maybe the government thought they could stop it,” Tori offered.
“What government?” I shot back. “The Air Force is the government too! There’s gotta be something else behind this.”
“Yeah,” Tori said. “If we believe Feit.”
The sounds of the attack on Fenway grew fainter as we tore through the empty streets of Boston.
“Does this mean you’re with me?” she asked.
It took a second for me to understand what she was asking. “You mean Nevada?”
“That radio broadcast might be the only hope we have of finding people who are ready to fight back.”
“Fight back against who?” I shouted in frustration. “SYLO is supposedly trying to destroy the world, and the Air Force has already wiped out most of the population. I’m not seeing a clear choice here.”
“If we believe Feit,” Tori cautioned.
“The guy’s a liar, but everything he just said seems to be true. What we don’t know is why it came to this, and who can be trusted.”
“Exactly,” Tori said with conviction. “The only people we can rely on are survivors like us.”
It was the first logical thing I had heard since I woke up that morning.
“Oh man, we’ve gotta hurry,” I warned. “Look!”
A squad of twenty soldiers wearing gray camouflage fatigues and black berets was on the street ahead of us, headed in the same direction we were: toward Faneuil Hall. They jogged together, two by two, each holding a black baton gun.
Tori took a sharp right to avoid them.
“Whatever they were building at Fenway is destroyed,” she said. “Fenway is rubble. They don’t need workers there anymore.”
It was a sobering thought. If the survivors at Faneuil Hall were no longer needed, what would happen to them?
“Drive dangerously,” I said.
Tori accelerated, flying along a street that ran parallel to the one the soldiers were on.
“Why aren’t they on a bus?” Tori asked.
“How should I know? At least it gives us a little time.”
“We’ve gotta be careful,” she said. “If we fly in there shouting about how Chris is really with the Air Force, his cowboys could turn on people.”
“We won’t make a big show,” I said. “We’ve gotta get Olivia and Kent and Jon out. Whoever else we see along the way, we’ll tell them quietly. The news will spread fast, and people can slip away without a lot of noise and disappear into the city.”
“What if they don’t believe us?” Tori asked.
“Then the soldiers will convince them when they show up,” I said grimly.
Tori took the gun that was in her lap and tossed it to me.
“The shells are in the glove box,” she said. “Load it.”
The gun was still warm, the result of having been fired seventeen times. It took me a few seconds to find the lever that released the clip from the handle. I grabbed the box of bullets from the glove compartment and tried feeding them into the clip, but they wouldn’t go.
“Other way,” Tori pointed out.
I flipped the clip. That made the job much easier. In no time it was reloaded with seventeen more shots.
“I’ll carry the gun,” Tori said. “No offense. I just don’t want you shooting off your foot.”
“None taken.”
“How do you want to do this?” Tori asked.
We were nearly back to Faneuil Hall, and we needed a plan. We would get there well ahead of the soldiers, but they would catch up quickly.
“Park near the east end of the Hall,” I said.
Tori made the last turn off the surface street and pulled to a stop behind an abandoned FedEx truck.
“Are you okay with splitting up?” I asked. “We can cover more ground that way.”
“Whatever.”
“Okay, find Kent and bring him here.”
“How? I have no idea where he goes during the day. He’s totally secretive about it.”
“I don’t know what he does either, but I’ve seen him eating lunch under the trees on the south end of the complex. If he’s not there, forget him and get back here.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“Jon’s probably at the battery-charging station. I’ll tell him to meet you here and then look for Olivia.”
“I have no idea where she could be either,” Tori said.
“Neither do I, but everybody knows her. Somebody’s bound to know where she is.”
“Yeah, she’s hard to miss.”
I thought I caught a note of disdain. Or maybe it was jealousy. I ignored it.
“Whenever you see somebody, let them know what’s going on,” I said. “Tell them to spread the word fast, leave their stuff, and get the hell out.”
“There isn’t much time, Tucker,” she said, troubled. “If you can’t find Olivia . . .”
She didn’t have to finish her sentence.
“I’ll find her,” I said. “Just try not to attract any attention.”
I handed her the gun and the clip. She took it and slammed the clip home.
“I guess shooting Chris Campbell would attract attention.”
“Yeah, try to avoid that,” I cautioned.
“What if we don’t all make it back here?” she asked, looking me dead in the eye.
Tori was the most confident person I had ever met. Back home, when a SYLO soldier had a gun pointed at her head, she had taken him down with a Taser without blinking. She had fearlessly driven a speedboat into a firestorm between burning warships and saved our lives. She had just fired on Feit and his Air Force bodyguards, giving us the cover we needed to escape from Fenway. But in that moment, I saw a hint of fear in her eyes. It wasn’t that she was afraid of SYLO or the Air Force or whatever else we might encounter. She was afraid of being alone.
I wished I had something more comforting to say.
“Stay until the soldiers arrive. Once they show up, take off and don’t look back.”
“Will you do the same?” she asked.
“If it means the difference between getting killed and not getting killed, yes. Pick a meeting place. If we have to take off, we’ll go there and wait for as long as it takes for the others to show up.”
“Twenty-four hours,” she said coldly. “If nobody else shows up by then, they aren’t coming.”
“Done. Where do we meet?”
“Old Ironsides,” Tori replied with no hesitation. “I love that ship.”
The USS
Constitution
was a museum-piece warship that was berthed in Boston Harbor. Every school kid in New England had been there on a fieldtrip.
“Old Ironsides it is. Wait there for one day and then—”
“Then go to Nevada,” she said with conviction.
There was an awkward moment.
I can’t say that I loved Tori Sleeper. I wasn’t even sure what that kind of love was. Hell, I was only fourteen. I’d had plenty of crushes, but I’d never known what it was like to be truly in love. Frankly, I wasn’t in any hurry. Life was just starting. But sitting there in that car, after what we’d been through, it was hard to know whether my life was just starting, or nearing its end.
“I think you’re great,” I said, fumbling for words.
Tori gave me a small smile.
“I’m still debating about you.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. A real kiss. It didn’t get all steamy or anything, but it wasn’t a quick peck either. It was an alltoo-brief vacation from reality.
She pulled away, and we held eye contact.
I think I was breathing, but I can’t be sure.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“In case we don’t get the chance again,” she replied.
She threw her door open, grabbed the pistol, and took off running down the street.
I was left momentarily stunned, but I couldn’t take the time to dwell on a sweet and confusing moment that was already history.
The Air Force hit squad was on the way.

Whatever. We had to get out.
The solar battery-charging station was set up on the roof of the north building to maximize the sunlight. I sprinted there, charged up the stairs, and pushed through the door to see Jon walking to a table with an armload of batteries. Yes!
“Thank god you’re here,” Jon said with a big sigh of relief.
“Why? What happened?” I asked, momentarily thrown.
“I’m way behind,” he explained. “Can you grab the batteries from Section D?”
“No! We’re leaving. Now. Chris and his cowboys aren’t survivors. They’re with the Air Force. They set this place up to collect survivors and put them to work.”
Jon gave me a blank look. “What?” was all he managed to say.
“Tori and I saw it. Nobody’s leaving here by choice. They’re being used as slaves by the Air Force. Did you hear those far-off explosions?”
“I heard something,” Jon said, nodding dumbly. “I thought it was thunder.”
“It was Fenway Park being destroyed by SYLO missiles.”
“SYLO attacked?” Jon asked, incredulous.
“Yes. The Air Force was building something there. It was like a . . . a . . . giant steel igloo, but SYLO took it down, along with the rest of Fenway. Now the Air Force soldiers are headed this way to . . . to . . . I don’t know what they’re going to do, but I don’t want to be here when it happens. Tori’s looking for Kent. I came for you and Olivia.”
Jon stared at me, still clutching the batteries, with his mouth hanging open.
“Say something,” I commanded.
He snapped back to reality and shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“What? Why would I lie?”
“I don’t think you’re lying, I just think you’re mistaken. Chris has taken care of us. Why would he hand us over to the Air Force to be . . . what? Slaves?”
“Because he’s one of them!” I shouted with frustration. “They’ve been fattening us up and letting us build our strength so we could work on their project. But the project is rubble. They don’t need us anymore.”
“But that’s so . . . so . . . implausible.”
“Everything that’s happening is freaking implausible!” I shouted. “Look, you can do what you want, but I’m outta here. The Explorer is parked behind a FedEx truck near the northeast corner of the building. That’s where we’re all going to meet. Be smart. Go there and wait for us.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, though it didn’t sound like he meant it.
I wanted to throttle the guy and force him to go, but I didn’t have time.
“Do you know where Olivia is?” I asked.
Jon went back to work, placing the batteries in rows on a table as if I hadn’t said a word. Or was he just taking time to process the information?
“Jon!”
“When I left the barracks, she was still sleeping,” he replied curtly. “I think she’s prepping lunch today.”
I ran back to the stairs.
“Trust me, Jon,” I called over my shoulder. “Get outta here. Now.”
He didn’t even acknowledge that I had said anything. He just picked up a battery and installed it into a lantern. I had the sick feeling that it was the last time I was going to see Jon Purcell.
I half ran, half jumped down the several flights of stairs that led to the ground level of the building and sprinted through the long structure until I got to the stairs leading down to the basement. I passed a few people along the way, and I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t warn them. It would have taken too long to explain, and based on Jon’s reaction, they wouldn’t have believed me anyway. If I had stopped, even to talk to one person, I wouldn’t get to Olivia in time. I promised myself that once I found her and we were on our way back to the Explorer, I’d shout out a warning. There was no way anyone would be more inclined to believe me than Jon was, but it might just put them on alert enough so that when they saw the soldiers arriving, they’d have the presence of mind to protect themselves.
That’s how I justified not stopping, but the truth was that I was more worried about saving Olivia than people I didn’t know. I hated myself for making that choice . . . but I didn’t stop either.
I hit the basement and grabbed a headlamp. People were already up and out, so I found myself running between rows of empty cots. When I finally made it to our section, I flashed my light on Olivia’s bunk to find that it was empty.
“Damn!”
I turned back the way I had come, ready to run for the stairs, when I saw the light from another lamp headed my way.
“Olivia? Is that you?”
I would have been totally surprised if it was. How random would that have been? But I was desperate.
The lamp bobbed closer and stopped about ten yards from me.
“Who is that?” I called out.
No answer.
I stood there staring at the light as my skin began to crawl.
“You gonna answer me?” I asked.
“Hello, Tucker,” came a calm, familiar voice.
It was the one voice I didn’t want to hear.
It was Chris Campbell.
How much did he know about what I knew? I had to force myself to act as though nothing was wrong.
“Have you seen Olivia?” I asked innocently.
“Why?” he asked. “Are you going to ask her to escape with you?”
Uh-oh.
He knew everything.
I felt a surge of energy fly past my head. I ducked as the deadly bolt hit the wall behind me, blowing out a fat chunk of cement.
He knew everything.
My first instinct was to pull off my headlamp. If he was going to shoot me, I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. I yanked it off and threw it. Before it hit the ground, the light exploded. Chris was a good shot and had his own headlamp to light me up. All I could do was become a difficult target.
“You think I can’t see you?” Chris taunted.
The headlamps were powerful, but cast a narrow beam. I started flipping the steel cots onto their sides to create barriers between us. Each time I flipped one up, I dodged to the other side of the narrow room to grab another one.
Chris had the same kind of energy-shooting baton weapon that Feit’s bodyguards had. That eliminated any doubt that he was working with the Air Force—and it confirmed that the soldiers who were on their way weren’t going to be paying a friendly visit. He fired and hit one of the cots. The metal springs blew apart, and I felt the shrapnel nick at my clothes as it sailed by. He fired again and blew apart a mattress, sending a cloud of stuffing into the air.
The narrow light from his headlamp moved as he did. It gave the dark basement a surreal feel, as if we were trapped inside a strobe light. It was hard to see where I was going, which meant it was hard for Chris to see me as well. That was my one hope.
There was a fire exit on the far end of the building that nobody used. It was my only escape route, so I kept upending beds as I backed toward it.
“You don’t have to die here,” Chris called out. I sensed the frustration in his voice. “Which is worse: working for us . . . or death?”
My answer was to continue to pick up everything I could find to throw at him. I tossed small tables and suitcases and upended many more beds, all in the desperate attempt to throw him off. He couldn’t get a clear shot at me and kept firing wildly. Everything that vicious weapon hit exploded, sending out sharp particles that filled the air.
Finally, my back hit the wall. For a quick moment I panicked, thinking I was trapped in a dead end, until I realized I had reached the far side—and the way out. I quickly slid along the wall until I hit the metal bar on the door. I pushed back, and the door swung open. Once through, I dodged to my right, putting the wall between Chris and me. A second later the door was blown off its hinges.
There was faint, gray light coming from the top of the stairs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to see where I was going. I ran for the staircase and climbed, taking three steps at a time. My confidence surged. I was going to make it out . . . and then I had to make a decision. Should I head for the Explorer? Or look for Olivia in the mess hall?
I reached the ground floor and blasted out of the fire door to find a group of survivors gathered together, looking confused. They had heard the ruckus in the basement.
“This is a setup!” I screamed. “Chris is with the Air Force. Soldiers are headed this way. Get outta here, now!”
I ran off, leaving them dumbfounded. There was no way that any of them would take me at my word and think: “Really? Chris is a bad guy? Thanks for the heads-up, Tucker, old pal, we’ll leave right away.” But what else could I do? I hoped that the sounds of the fight below would at least get them thinking. If not, maybe seeing Chris chasing me with a weapon would help them understand.
I ran out of the building and stopped short. Left was the Explorer. Right was the mess hall. And Olivia. Hopefully.
I went right.
As I sprinted for the south building, I passed a few people who were strolling casually, enjoying the cool fall morning.
“Get out!” I shouted. “There’s going to be an attack on the Hall!”
I figured the less detail, the better. The people stared at me as if I was crazed because, well, I was crazed. But if my rant saved just one person, it would have been worth it.
I blew through the door leading to the mess hall to find . . . nobody.
“Olivia!” I screamed.
It was early for the lunch crew to start work, and Olivia wasn’t known for being on time, let alone early. But I had to make sure, so I jammed past the empty dining tables and into the kitchen.
There were two chefs inside, chopping vegetables for the day’s batch of soup. They both jumped with surprise.
“Is Olivia Kinsey here?” I demanded.
“In the kitchen?” one chef said sarcastically. “Seriously?” He knew Olivia.
“Get outta here,” I shouted. “The Hall’s about to be attacked.” The two chefs looked at one another with confusion. “How do you know that?” one asked.
The answer he got wasn’t what he wanted.
The kitchen door flew open behind me. I dove away in time to miss getting hit by the shot Chris Campbell fired at me.
The chef wasn’t as lucky. He took the shot square in the chest. It knocked him back onto the stove, where his jacket caught fire from the burner. The other chef pulled him off the stove and onto the floor to try to smother the flames, but I didn’t think it would matter. A direct shot from that weapon probably killed him on impact.
I grabbed a tray and flung it wildly in Chris’s direction. It flew like an oversized Frisbee directly for him. It missed, but it made him duck.
That gave me time to dive behind the cooking line. I scrambled on my hands and knees between the tall work counter and the stoves behind it. I had to crawl over the body of the downed chef and his friend, who was still frantically snuffing flames.
“What is happening?” the second chef cried in a panic.
Chris fired again. This time his shot sailed over the counter and hit the giant vat of boiling soup. The steel vessel tore open, spilling the scalding liquid onto the floor. The deluge missed the two chefs entirely, but I was hit on the leg by the boiling liquid. I felt the intense heat through my jeans and had to bite my lip so as not to scream out, but it didn’t stop me from moving.
I crawled to the far side of the kitchen, still shielded by the counter, toward a door on the back wall that led to a small room ringed with steel racks loaded with dishes, glasses, and bowls. I scrambled inside as another shot from Chris blasted the tiled wall, sending out an explosion of slivered glass. If any hit me, I didn’t know it. I was too charged with adrenaline and fear. I stayed low and pulled over one of the steel shelving units. It was heavy, but again, I was so charged up that it came down as easily as a Jenga tower. The rack hit the doorway, and the plates slid off, crashing to the floor. I jumped deeper into the room and pulled down another shelf, and another. The room was small enough that Chris would have trouble following quickly.
Every second counted. I gave up hope of finding Olivia and now focused on getting out of there. That would be tricky. I didn’t want to get shot, but I also didn’t want to lead Chris back to Tori and the others.
The small room led to a pantry that emptied out into a common service hallway. I didn’t stop to think or strategize; I just ran to daylight, which was through a door on the far end that led outside. I hit the door and blasted out to find myself back in the courtyard between the two buildings. My first thought was to run back to the north building, get inside and out of sight, and make my way east to the far end, where I’d be close to the Explorer.
My second thought was that I wasn’t going anywhere.
When I jumped outside, I was faced with a handful of Chris’s cowboys . . . surrounding Olivia and Jon.
“Tucker!” Olivia called, scolding. “What exactly are you doing?”
My brain froze. I couldn’t calculate another move. “Jon?” I said. “What the hell?”
“I’m doing this for you, Tucker,” Jon replied. “I don’t know what it is you saw, but these are our friends. They’ve done nothing but take care of us. We can’t turn on them.”
If I hadn’t been out of my mind, I would have jumped at Jon and punched him in the head.
“You told Chris I was looking for Olivia?” I asked, hardly believing it myself.
“Yes, he did,” Chris said as he walked up behind me, casually tapping the black weapon against his leg. “Jon is far more appreciative of what we’ve done here than you seem to be.”
“Why are you making everybody so crazy, Tucker?” Olivia asked. “They’re protecting us.”
Other survivors started gathering to see what the ruckus was all about. I wanted to shout out the truth and tell them it was all a trick and that we were being held prisoners and set up to be slaves to the very people who had wiped out most of the planet’s population. But the words caught in my throat. I knew they wouldn’t believe me. None of them had seen what I had.
Chris and the cowboys stood there with smug smiles on their faces. They knew the truth, and they knew I was done.
I had only one play left: a Hail Mary.
“We’ve been lied to!” I shouted to the group. “By Chris Campbell and everybody who works with him. The survivors who left here didn’t move on. They were taken to Fenway Park to help the murderers build a structure.”
There were confused murmurs followed by a guy who called out, “What kind of structure?”
“I . . . I don’t know. But it was huge. Right in the middle of the field.”
That got a couple of skeptical laughs.
“It’s true! But it was destroyed by SYLO. They bombed it. Didn’t you hear the explosions? Or see the fighters fly over?”
One of the cowboys shouted, “Maybe it was a monument to the Yankees, and the Red Sox blew it up!”
That got another laugh.
“You don’t have to believe me,” I yelled to the group. “You’re going to find out for yourselves soon enough. There’s a group of soldiers headed this way. They’ll be here any minute. They don’t need us anymore, and I’m afraid they’re going to wipe us out the same way they did so much of the rest of the population.”