SYLO (THE SYLO CHRONICLES) (25 page)

“Me too,” I said.

“Then let’s make it happen.”

He reached down and picked up the soldier’s pistol. It was an automatic, like a Walther or a Glock.

“You know how to use that?” I asked.

Quinn shrugged. “Let’s hope I won’t get the chance to find out.”

We hurried down the porch steps and followed Tori’s route to the dock.

The boat with the red wheelhouse, the
Tori Tickle
, was tied up in front of the older boat with the navy blue wheelhouse, the
Patricia
. Tori was on board the
Tori Tickle
, preparing to get under way.

“Help me with these,” she commanded and started tossing over the lobster traps that were stacked to the stern. “We don’t need them to be slowing us down.”

Quinn and I caught the traps and stacked them on the dock. We had plenty of experience with lobster traps.

“Yeah,” Quinn said, scoffing. “The extra weight might keep these fine vessels from outrunning one of the Navy’s high-powered gunships.”

I didn’t laugh at the joke.

Neither did Tori. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at Quinn.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just trying to keep it light.”

“Can you start those engines?” she asked.

“I think so,” Quinn replied.

“Then do it.”

Quinn gave me a quick look, rolled his eyes, and headed for the
Patricia
while I helped Tori offload the rest of the traps.

“I get
Tori Tickle
,” I said. “Who’s
Patricia
?”

Tori took a few seconds before she answered.

“My mother,” she finally said with no emotion.

“Oh.”

They say that it’s bad luck to change the name of a boat, but I couldn’t imagine keeping that particular name, bad luck or not. It would be a constant reminder of the person who had abandoned her family.

“It’s because my father still loves her,” Tori said. “In case you were wondering.”

“How do
you
feel?” I asked.

“I don’t,” was her quick answer.

It was not a good subject to get into on the verge of making a suicidal escape, so I dropped it. When we finished unloading the traps, Tori stood up and scanned the lagoon. Dusk had settled in. The sun was finally giving up the day.

“We gotta get going,” she said. “It should be dark enough by the time we clear the lagoon.”

Quinn fired up the engines of the
Patricia
and they caught with a throaty roar. Each of the boats had powerful twin diesels. They were built to be working boats, not speed burners. In spite of Quinn’s bad joke, we wouldn’t be outrunning any other ships, Navy or otherwise.

Tori jumped out of the
Tori Tickle
and walked back to the
Patricia
.

Quinn was at the wheel, tuning the engines. I was impressed. He actually looked as though he knew what he was doing. I could have handled the boat on my own just fine, but Quinn was right: I would have handled us right into getting lost.

Tori waved for him to come over.

“Dad always keeps the tanks topped off,” she said. “There’s more than enough fuel to get us to the mainland.”

“How should we do this?’ Quinn asked.

“We’ll go out first,” Tori explained. “Give us a five-minute head start. When I get to the mouth of the lagoon, I’ll head north for five minutes before turning west. You head south for a minute or two before making the turn.”

“So we’ll be what?” I asked. “About a mile apart?”

“More or less,” Tori replied. “Definitely within walkie-talkie range.”

Quinn said, “I don’t think we should use them unless there’s an emergency. They might be able to lock onto our band and track us.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Damn.

“Right,” I said.

Tori said, “If we both head due west from that point, I’m guessing you’ll hit land somewhere around the Portland Head Light. We’ll be north of that. Beach the boat. Not that it really matters, but try to hit sand. Or find a dock. I’d like to think my dad will get these back in one piece someday.”

“I’ll do my best,” Quinn assured her. “Then I’ll call you on the walkie.”

“What do we do from there?” I asked.

Quinn and Tori exchanged looks.

Tori said, “Let’s worry about that when we get there.”

Good point.

The three of us stood staring at one another. Up until that point, the idea that we were going to make our escape from the island was all theory. It had suddenly become a reality. We were about to try to sneak through a blockade enforced by the United
States Navy. The only others who had tried were blown out of the water.

“This suddenly doesn’t seem like such a good idea,” I said, my stomach twisting.

“But it’s the only idea,” Quinn assured me. “We’ll make it. Keep your running lights off. Go slow and we’ll be on land sucking down a Moxie before soldier boy even gets out of the root cellar.”

I was glad that one of us was confident, even if it was for show.

“Good luck,” Tori said to Quinn.

There was an awkward moment where they weren’t sure if they should shake hands or hug. Tori finally took the lead and gave him a quick hug. Quinn actually looked over her shoulder and winked at me like I should be jealous. Dork.

“See you on shore,” he said.

“I’ll fire up the
Tickle
,” she said and jogged for the forward boat.

Quinn and I were left alone with an uncomfortable silence.

“Hell of a thing,” he finally said.

“Seriously,” I replied. “I, uh, I think what you’re doing is incredibly brave.”

“Yes. Yes it is,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

I had to chuckle.

“But you guys aren’t far behind,” he added.

“Maybe I should go with you,” I offered.

“Nah. She’s all tough talk, but she’s still a girl.”

“Yeah, a girl who took down a professional soldier. Jeez.”

“Really,” Quinn said, then added, “but you saw her afterward. She nearly lost it. I think she needs somebody steady to roll with.”

“And you don’t?”

“Nah,” Quinn said, scoffing. “I’ve got ice water in my veins…which is a saying I never understood. How would that work exactly?”

“I don’t know,” I said, chuckling.

I really would have preferred to go with my friend. The two of us stood there awkwardly, neither wanting to leave.

“I don’t know what to say, Quinn,” I finally got out. “I mean, I always talk about how much I like Pemberwick and a huge part of that has to do with you.”

“Okay, stop right there,” he said quickly. “I hear you. I feel the same way, but I’m not about to stage some dramatic farewell scene like we’re never going to see each other again. I’m serious. Even if we get caught, I don’t see them blowing us out of the water. They’ll board us, take over the boats, and bring us right back here, where we won’t be any worse off than we are right now. So let’s not get all weepy. We’ll either see each other on the mainland or on the deck of the U.S.S.
Gotcherass
.”

“Do you really believe that?” I asked.

Quinn stared at me for a good few seconds, then said, “Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I do too.”

Neither of us were telling the truth.

“Excellent. Now don’t go puttin’ moves on Tori out there in the dark.”

“I’ll try to control myself.”

We stood there for another long moment, putting off the inevitable.

“Let’s go!” Tori called.

A second later she fired up the engines of the
Tori Tickle
. Both boats
were alive and humming, ready to take us on the next leg of our adventure. Or our escape. Or whatever it was we were doing.

“I’ll cast you off,” I said to Quinn.

He hopped back on board and I ran to the stern, unlooped the line from around the cleat, and tossed it on board. I then ran to the bow and unlashed the front line. I walked that one back and handed it to Quinn.

“There you go,” I said. “Good luck.”

“The Pemberwick Run, baby,” Quinn said.

I gave him a smile and watched him standing there for another full second. I don’t know why but I felt as though I wanted to remember that moment. Quinn was doing an incredibly brave and selfless thing by going alone.

“C’mon!” Tori called impatiently over the rumble of the engines.

I unlashed the stern line of the
Tori Tickle
, tossed it on the deck, then ran forward and released the bow line. Both boats were now drifting free in the pond. I jumped on board and stood behind Tori, who manned the large, chrome wheel.

“Nice and easy,” she said as she reached forward with both hands to grasp the dual engine throttles. She pushed both ahead gently and the engines rumbled louder.

We were under way.

I looked ahead through the Plexiglas windshield of the wheelhouse out to the horizon. It was still light but growing darker by the moment. That was good. By the time we maneuvered through the twists and turns of the lagoon to reach the ocean, it would be near dark. That’s when the real fun would begin. For a moment I let myself believe that everything would be okay. We would get
away from the island and make it to the mainland without a problem. I didn’t want to think any further ahead than that. One step at a time. I settled in and took comfort in the familiar sounds of a rumbling engine and the far-off cry of seagulls.

My moment of optimism vanished when my eye caught something leaning against the console to Tori’s right. It was the shotgun. I hoped to God that we wouldn’t have to use it.

Tori stood straight at the wheel, her eyes focused on the course ahead. She had the brim of her USM cap pulled down low, though there was no sun to block anymore. It was probably out of habit. Or maybe that was just her style. Tori wasn’t exactly an open book. But she was an experienced sailor. She guided the
Tori Tickle
with confidence through the labyrinth of waterways that twisted through the marsh grass toward the sea. The tide was high, so I didn’t think there was much chance of grounding. At least we had that going for us. Still, she kept the small boat directly in the center of the narrow channel, just in case.

I caught the faint smell of lemons. It reminded me that, as confident as she was, part of her was self-conscious as well. It made me like her all the more, but at that moment I didn’t need her to be self-conscious. I needed her to be steely eyed and focused.

I glanced back to see the
Patricia
slowly drifting away from the dock. Quinn wouldn’t be following for another few minutes.

“I hope he knows the way out,” I said.

“He can follow our wake,” Tori said without breaking her focused gaze. “We hit this just right. There’s just enough light for me to navigate out of here and by the time we hit open water it’ll be dark.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’re as good as home free.”

She gave me a quick, sharp glance. She didn’t appreciate my sarcasm.

The boat was a thirty-five-foot workhorse that was used for one purpose: catching lobsters. Quinn and I knew the routine all too well. There were empty bins on the deck behind the wheelhouse that normally held bait or the day’s catch. Bait would be put into a mesh bag and stuck in steel-cage traps. The traps would be lowered overboard and marked with a buoy. Every lobsterman had his own colors, so everyone knew whose was whose. After a few days, they’d travel back and haul them up with a winch to see how many dumb lobsters had wandered inside. They’d be measured to make sure they weren’t undersized and the lucky runts would be tossed back overboard. The bigger boys would have their claws strapped with rubber bands so they wouldn’t kill each other, and then they were all dumped into the deeper plastic bins that were filled with seawater to await the market and an eventual date with melted butter. The traps would be rebaited and dropped over to once again lie in wait. It was a Maine dance that had been going on forever. I couldn’t help but wonder if the tradition would continue on Pemberwick when things got back to normal.

Actually, I couldn’t help but wonder
if
things would get back to normal.

“You like lobstering?” I asked Tori, trying to make small talk that would take my mind off the steadily growing tension.

“If you had asked me that a couple of weeks ago, I would have told you how much I hated it.”

“And now?”

She shrugged. “Right now I’d give anything to be out here with my dad, just hauling out spiders. Funny how perspective changes things.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Perspective. Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?”

Tori gave me a surprised look as if she were seeing me for the first time.

“That’s fairly profound,” she said sincerely.

I thought about taking the compliment and shutting up, but that wasn’t me. “It is,” I said. “And whoever wrote the song I stole the lyric from really knows what they’re talking about.”

I gave her a winning smile. She rolled her eyes and looked back ahead. So much for impressing her with my poetic observations on life.

“Keep an eye out,” she commanded.

As if on cue, I felt the boat rock as the V-shaped hull was buffeted by the surge of a wave. After chugging along for nearly ten minutes, we were one turn away from hitting the open ocean. I looked back to see the vague, gray shape of the
Patricia
’s wheelhouse making its way along the same route we had just taken. Quinn looked to be exactly five minutes behind us and finding his way without a problem. Ahead of us was the unknown. I ducked out of the wheelhouse and looked up to see stars appearing in the rapidly darkening sky. We had timed it perfectly. Tori wheeled us to starboard, skirted the last scrub-choked outcropping of sand, and gently pushed the throttles forward to help break us away from Pemberwick’s grasp. We motored through a protected cove where the surf was minimal. Still, I felt the
Tori Tickle
rise and fall on a
wave as if we were being lifted up and given a gentle nudge that would send us on our way.

“And here we go,” I said without thinking.

We were officially in harm’s way. I scanned the horizon, hoping not to see any patrolling Navy vessels. If there was a destroyer waiting outside the cove, our journey would have been a short one. But there were no ships to be seen. I looked back to Pemberwick, scanning for any sign of a missile-carrying helicopter. The sky was clear. We had already gotten further than the cigarette boat had.