Storm (21 page)

Up ahead I spotted the Explorer and quickly dug into my pocket for the key. I didn’t want to be there one second longer than I needed to. I was thirty yards away from escape when I heard a whistling sound. I’d heard that sound often enough to know what it was. I stopped and spun around to see a burning black plane careening toward the ground.
Toward me.
I had to move, but which way? I was like a deer caught in deadly headlights. At the last possible second, I dove to my right.
The doomed plane soared so close overhead that I felt the heat as it sped by. I hit the ground as it careened the last few yards . . . and crashed directly into the Explorer.
There was a massive explosion as the flames hit the gas tank, which shot a pillar of fire into the air. Rolling away, I heard the zing of speeding bits of shrapnel flying all around me, so I wrapped my arms around my head to avoid getting beamed by a flying bit of molten metal. I was lucky not to be hit, but I was still in the danger zone . . . with no car to get me out.
I scrambled back to my feet and ran. Soon I was off the dirt track and sprinting toward the road I had taken in from the library. I needed to get away as fast as my legs would carry me, so I ran until my side ached, but that didn’t stop me. I can’t say how long I ran for, but the sounds of the battle grew faint. When I couldn’t take the pain any longer, I stopped and put my hands on my knees to try to catch my breath.
As I stood there gasping for air, I gazed back at the battle. There were fewer missiles being fired and far fewer shadows streaking through the sky. The fight looked to be winding down.
SYLO had won. They had repelled the attack. Fort Knox was safe, at least until the next time.
That night I had set out with one thing in mind: revenge. I had failed miserably. Looking back, it was hard to believe that I had seriously considered assassinating Granger. I was angry with myself—not for failing, but for wanting to do it in the first place. I was lucky to have gotten away in one piece . . .
. . . and with some disturbing knowledge.
Granger was alive, which was bad enough. What he told me about SYLO and the Retros was even worse, yet it did pull the curtain back a little on this confounding war. The Retros were the aggressors. That much seemed to fit. But who were they? Why had they chosen to reset the course of mankind? Why did they think it was necessary? What gave them the right?
SYLO, on the other hand, was playing defense, and though they were outnumbered and outgunned, they were dedicated to stopping the Retros.
The question still remained: Who were the good guys? Had the forces behind SYLO truly put the world on a path to destruction that could only be stopped by the Retros’ extreme tactics? Or were the Retros only using that as an excuse to create a new world order that they controlled?
And what exactly was this “gate to hell” that the Retros had and were trying to build more of?
As much as I had learned, I was still very much in the dark . . . and haunted by Granger’s warning. It was the same warning my mother had given me.
My friends could not be trusted.
That may have been the most disturbing revelation of all.

In spite of the horror I had seen since the night Marty Wiggins dropped dead during our football game, I had always had someone to lean on. First it was my parents . . . until they turned out to be part of SYLO. I also had my best friend, Quinn . . . until he was killed by the Retros. Or the Air Force. Or whatever they really were. Tori Sleeper and I then forged a friendship that only got stronger as our troubles deepened. Our circle grew, taking on Kent, Olivia, and finally Jon.

We didn’t always see eye-to-eye. Okay, we rarely all saw eyeto-eye, but we had each other’s backs. Even Kent. He had come through for us at times when I expected him to worry more about his own skin.

Now I was faced with the possibility of one of them being a Retro. A traitor. What other way could I put it? Though the news came from Granger, and I didn’t trust that guy at all, some of the things he’d said made me believe that
he
believed it.

As I made the long walk back to the library, I had plenty of time to think. I searched my memory for any clue why Granger thought one of my friends might be a Retro. When I was in the SYLO prison, Granger interrogated me, wanting to know about my relationship with Kent. Did that mean he suspected Kent? Or was he just fishing? Kent had lived on Pemberwick Island his whole life. His family owned property that had been handed down for generations. They didn’t exactly fit the profile of someone who wanted to destroy civilization.

The same went for Tori. She grew up on Pemberwick. Her father was a lobsterman, and her mother wasn’t even in the picture. She had abandoned them and left her husband to raise Tori on his own. Why would a lobsterman and his daughter want to bring on Armageddon? It didn’t make sense.

Then again, Tori’s father was the leader of the rebels who were planning to kidnap Granger. That alone marked him as an enemy of SYLO. And many of the people who had joined up with them were Retros, at least according to Mr. Feit. Could Mr. Sleeper have joined up with the Retros and brought Tori along with him? Or was he being used, like Feit said?

Kent’s actions might also be questioned. When he and I were prisoners in the SYLO camp, he was hiding a dose of the Ruby that we eventually used to help us make our escape. How exactly did he get that? I never got a full answer. It was implied that Mr. Sleeper’s rebels smuggled it in to him, but most of them might have been working with Feit. When we were staying at the Hall, Kent would disappear for hours at a time. Whenever I asked what he was doing, he’d tell me to mind my own business. The Hall was run by Retros. Was he plotting something with them?

Then there was Olivia. There was nothing about her that said “world destroyer.” She was more worried about looking good and having fun than about rebooting society. But I had only known her since the beginning of summer. She said she came from New York City, but did I know that for a fact? Was she hiding some dark secrets?

Finally there was Jon. None of us knew much about him, other than that he worked as a hospital technician and was a tech geek who tinkered with radios and had a passion for history. He had a know-it-all air about him, but did that mark him as traitor? It bothered me, though, that he was so quick to put in with Chris Campbell and his cowboys at Faneuil Hall. Was that because he wanted food and a warm place to sleep? Or did he actually send Chris after me once he realized I wanted to escape with the others?

None of these people seemed like they could be playing both sides. Either Granger was totally lying or there was some incredible acting going on.

I wanted to forget the idea entirely, except for one thing Granger said. He admitted that he had no reason to want me dead. Yet he had come after me with all guns blazing. Literally. He torched the forest on Chillicot Island to try to fry me. He sent sharpshooters to blow me away before I could escape the island on a speedboat. Once I was on that speedboat, he personally came after me and tried to blast me out of the water. He was so determined to kill me that he ordered his crew to follow us into that inferno, sending them to their deaths. It sure seemed as though he wanted me gone, even though he knew for certain that I wasn’t a Retro. He had to know. He was working with my parents!
It made no sense . . . unless it really wasn’t me he was after. That question tortured me. Was I just an unlucky bystander

in this battle with Granger? Was he really after Kent? Or Tori? Or Olivia? He couldn’t have been after Jon because we didn’t hook up with him until Portland. Did that mean my friends from Pemberwick Island, the people I relied on the most in our struggle to survive, were Retro infiltrators?

The idea seemed impossible, but the pieces of the puzzle fit together well enough for me to consider never rejoining them. But the thought of being on my own was enough to send me back to the library to take my chances.

As I dragged myself along, I made a critical decision. I couldn’t stress over which one of my friends might be a traitor. That would be torture.

Instead, I would assume they were all guilty.
It would be easier not to trust any of them than to be constantly worrying about saying the wrong thing while waiting for someone to make a suspicious move. From that simple but depressing assumption, I would work to find which one was a true friend.
Hopefully there would be more than one.
Hopefully it would be all of them.
I was exhausted. My feet were literally dragging, and I still had miles to go. I stopped at the next abandoned car, looked in the window, and realized what an idiot I’d been. Most of these cars still had the key in the ignition.
This car was a small Fiat. It wouldn’t replace the Explorer, but it would get me back to the library before I collapsed. The engine turned over smoothly, and in no time I was driving back to face my friends. My hope was that they would all still be asleep and have no idea that I had left.
Yeah, right.
The battle at Fort Knox might have been several miles from the library, but it was still a major fight. Nobody sleeps through something like that. When I pulled into the parking lot, the front doors instantly flew open. Tori was out first, followed by Olivia. Jon and Kent weren’t far behind.
“Where have you been?” Olivia cried.
She ran past Tori and threw her arms around me.
“We heard the explosions,” she said, nearly in tears. “You were gone, and we didn’t know what to think. What happened? Did you see anything?”
I didn’t break away from her, but I didn’t hug back either. I looked over her shoulder at Tori, Jon, and Kent, who stood together, waiting for an answer.
“Where’s the Explorer, Rook?” Kent asked.
“Destroyed.”
“What?” Jon exclaimed. “What do you mean, ‘destroyed’?”
“An Air Force plane crashed into it,” I said with no emotion. “They’re called Retros, by the way. That’s what Granger calls the Air Force.”
Olivia pulled back from me abruptly.
“Granger?” she asked, stunned.
“You talked to him?” Kent asked, equally stunned. “He’s alive?”
Tori had yet to say a word.
I decided to tell them the truth and deal with the fallout.
“I went to Fort Knox,” I said with no hint of emotion. “My plan was to find Granger . . . and kill him.”
Olivia gasped and took a step back.
“Oh, Tucker, no.”
I pulled the gun from my waistband and handed it to Tori.
“I didn’t tell anybody because I wanted to go alone. I didn’t expect to be coming back.”
“So . . . did you?” Kent asked. “Kill him, I mean.”
“No. As much as I wanted him dead, I’m no killer. I had the chance, too. I couldn’t pull the trigger. That’s when the Air Force attacked.”
“Attacked what?” Jon asked. “Where were you?”
“Inside Fort Knox,” I replied. “It’s a SYLO base that’s protecting the gold. When civilization rebuilds, that will be the new currency.”
Nobody said anything. They just stared at me in stunned silence.
Jon finally snapped out of it and asked, “So what happened?”
“SYLO defended the base. Hundreds of black planes were knocked out of the sky. One of them landed on the Explorer. Don’t worry, Kent, there are plenty more where that came from.”
“But you talked to Granger,” Kent said, still reeling. “How is he still alive?”
“He was pushed off of the gunboat before they followed us between the burning ships. Simple as that.”
Kent let out a long breath.
“Jeez,” he said. “Why can’t these bad guys stay dead?”
“What else did he say?” Olivia said.
I walked past them, headed into the library. The others followed without question. Once inside, I found a camp lantern and went right for the table with the road atlas. I looked through the index, found what I wanted, and flipped to the map.
When I found what I was looking for, my head went light. I actually had to hold on to the table for support.
“What the hell, Rook?” Kent said impatiently. “What’s going on?”
“These guardians obediently protect us from the gates of hell,” I said.
“Yeah, SYLO,” Kent said. “What about it?”
“Granger called the Air Force ‘Retros.’ He said the thing they were building in Fenway Park was a gate to hell.”
“What!” Olivia exclaimed.
“Seriously?” Jon said. “An actual gate to hell?”
“I don’t know. But whatever it was, SYLO wanted it gone, so they bombed it to oblivion.”
“What are you looking at?” Jon asked, gesturing to the atlas.
“Granger said there’s another one. A finished one. In the desert. He said it was guarded, but SYLO was going after that one too.”
“What desert?” Kent said.
“Mojave.”
“And where’s that?” Kent asked.
I spun the book around for the others to see.
My mouth was so dry I had to swallow before I could speak. “Most of it is in California. Some parts reach into Arizona and Utah. But a very big part of it is in—”
“Nevada,” Tori finished.
Kent grabbed the book to take a closer look.
“Jeez, he’s right!” He looked at me. “That’s what Granger said? There’s a gate to hell in Nevada?”
I nodded.
Jon took the atlas and pulled out the separate, more detailed map of Nevada. He reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled piece of paper that he flattened on the table.
“These are the coordinates that the survivors were broadcasting,” he explained.
He brought the lamp closer to the map, referred to the coordinates on the page, and made a mark on the map.
“The coordinates are definitely in the Mojave Desert. It looks like a pretty desolate place except . . .”
He bent down closer to the map and said, “It’s a park. It’s the middle of the desert, but it’s a state park called . . .”
Jon didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he looked up at us soberly.
“What’s it called?” Kent asked impatiently.
“The Valley of Fire,” Jon replied, barely above a whisper.
“Seriously?” Kent exclaimed. “Valley of Fire? There’s a gate to hell in the Valley of Fire?”
“No,” I replied. “Granger said this so-called gate is somewhere in the Mojave. It’s a big place. These coordinates are supposedly leading us to a group of survivors.”
“If they really
are
survivors,” Olivia cautioned. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“Kind of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Kent said. “Gates of hell; Valley of Fire. Something nasty is definitely going on out there.”
We all let that information sink in. Then Olivia said, “So what does it all mean?”
“It means I’m going to Nevada,” I said with authority. “I don’t know what’s out there. Could be survivors. Could be a Retro trap. It could even be a SYLO trap. But whatever’s there, it’s the center of this whole damn thing.”
I looked at Tori, expecting her to be happy about my decision. Instead, she turned and left the room.
I looked at Kent. “What about you?”
He scratched his head nervously and glanced at Olivia.
“Don’t look at her,” I scolded. “I’m asking
you
. You keep telling us what a hero you are, how about proving it?”
I had hit the exact right nerve.
“All right, Tucker,” he said softly. “I’m with you.”
“Me too,” Jon chimed in. “It’s history, right? Can’t miss that.”
“Wait, what about me?” Olivia cried. “I don’t want to stay here alone.”
“Then go to Florida, or anywhere else you’d like,” I said, hoping it didn’t come across as cold as I was feeling.
Olivia was near panic. She looked to Kent for help, but he kept his eyes on the table. She looked back at me with pleading eyes, but I returned a cold stare.
“Why are they called Retros?” Jon asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied curtly. “I don’t care.”
“You feeling okay, Rook?” Kent asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I just spent the night trying to murder somebody and then nearly had my ass blown up about forty times. How do you think I should sound?”
Kent backed off. “About like that.”
“In the morning I’ll find a car,” I declared. “If anybody wants to come with me, meet me outside at nine, ready to go. If you change your mind, sleep in.”
I tucked the loose map of Nevada into the atlas and brought it with me into the children’s area, where I returned to my spot on the floor. This time I planned to sleep.
I didn’t mean to be so cold with the others. It just happened. Without intending to, I’d built a wall to keep myself separated from them. I was flying by the seat of my pants, and staying emotionally detached seemed like the best way to keep from being manipulated . . . if someone was trying to manipulate me.
Tori entered the room and stood over me, dangling the lamp.
“Explain it to me,” she said. “Everything you preached about us needing one another and trusting each other and claiming that ‘we’re all we’ve got’—what happened to that?”
“We
are
all we’ve got,” I said.
“So that’s why you took my gun and snuck out on some mission of personal revenge that could have gotten you killed? How did that help us, exactly?”
“I told you,” I said unapologetically. “It was something I had to do on my own.”
“But what was the point? To get revenge for Quinn? To make one man pay for disturbing your precious little island? To make you feel a little bit better? How was that supposed to help us all?”
I wished I had a good answer, but I couldn’t come up with one. So I told the truth.
“It wouldn’t have.”
“I told you how much I needed you,” she said. “Didn’t that count for anything?”
“Of course it did. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get hurt, Tori—”
“Bull!” she snapped angrily. “You wanted to wage your own little war! It’s been like that from the beginning. Everything you’ve done, every decision you’ve made, everywhere you’ve led us was about you feeling sorry for yourself and the life you lost. You may have been traveling with us, but you were always on your own journey.”
“You’re getting what you want,” I argued. “I’m going to Nevada.”
“You expected to die tonight,” she cried. “You left us. You left me. The only reason you’re here now is because you chickened out when it counted. I don’t care what you do anymore, Tucker. I’m tired of following you around.”
She turned to leave.
“So what are you going to do?” I called. “Are you coming with me?”
She stopped but didn’t turn back to me as she said, “I’ll be in the car, but from now on we’re on our own.”
She left the room and I was alone.
Everything she said was true. I had to hear the words to realize it. Anger and loss had driven me to take revenge. It felt like the only way to make the pain go away. Every move I had made, every decision, reflected that.
The others were just along for the ride.
I had convinced myself that I was helping to keep everyone together, but the truth was I was using them to support my own quest. I had been quick to criticize everyone else for not doing what was best for the group, while I was being the most selfish of all.
I wanted to run to Tori and apologize. I wanted to tell her that I got it. That I was wrong. That I wanted to try again. I wanted to tell them all . . . but I couldn’t.
They could be Retros.
Early the next day, I woke before sunrise after not sleeping much. I packed up my gear and brought it outside to the curb. First order of business was to find a new car. Though we were in a rural area, it was the kind of place where most people had big cars. I got into the Fiat and only had to drive a few minutes before I found our next vehicle: a Volvo SC90. It had three rows of seats and still enough room for our gear.
I tried not to think about how all of these cars belonged to people who died inside of them.
When I drove it back to the library, Kent was waiting on the steps.
“I was afraid you took off without us again,” he said.
He never would have said that before my adventure the night before. Now everything I did was going to be scrutinized and questioned.
“Why would I take off without my gear?” I said, pointing to my bag on the curb.
“Oh. Didn’t see that.”
“Load up,” I ordered. “I want to get going.”
As Kent threw his bag in the back, Tori came out of the library.
“Did you have to get such a gas guzzler?” she asked.
“We can always trade it in,” I said. “There are plenty of cars out there to choose from. Is anybody else coming?”
As if in answer, Olivia came out of the library with her bag hanging from her shoulder and her sunglasses on, even though the sun was barely up. She looked as though she was ready for a day at the beach. “You sure you want to come?” I asked.
She walked right up to me, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed me square on the lips.
“Somebody’s got to make sure you eat your greens,” she said. She walked to Kent and tossed her bag to him.
“I’m riding up front,” she said. “I’m tired of being car sick.”
She went right for the passenger door and got in.
Kent shrugged and put her bag in back.
I looked to the library, expecting to see Jon come out. He didn’t.
“Do we say good-bye?’ Tori asked.
“Good-bye,” I said so low that Tori could barely hear it, let alone Jon.
“I’ll drive the first leg,” I said and headed for the driver’s door.
“Wait!” Jon called as he ran from the building with his bag banging around his shoulder. “I was afraid you’d leave without me!”
He loaded up and was given the far back seat. Again.
That was that. We were all going. Even those who didn’t really want to. Was that a sign that we had truly become dependent on each other? Or did one—or some—of us go along in order to monitor our movements for the Retros?
With that in mind, I put the car in gear, and we began our journey.
Next stop: the gates of hell.