Storm (12 page)

The day passed without incident. I avoided Jon, Olivia, and Kent only because I knew it would be hard not to warn them about what was going on. Olivia would panic and want to bolt instantly. Kent would probably want to take a swing at Chris. And Jon, well, Jon might just come up with a logical explanation for it all, but I didn’t want to risk telling him for fear he would tell everyone else, and then Chris would be coming for us.
They would all know soon enough.
When I woke up early the next morning, Tori was already dressed and sitting on her cot with her arms curled around her legs and her gym bag over her shoulder. I gave her a quick wave and got dressed. While trying to make as little noise as possible, the two of us once again climbed out of the basement and stepped out to the predawn morning.
It was cold. Winter was definitely on the way. We walked quickly away from Faneuil Hall, looking around constantly to see if we were being watched. No alarms sounded. Nobody came running. We retraced our steps back to the parking lot where we had left the Explorer several days before.
“You’d better drive,” I said. “You’ve got more experience.”
That was an understatement. I wasn’t even old enough to have a license. Neither was Tori, but she had been driving her father’s pickup truck all over Pemberwick Island to deliver lobsters. I had no doubt that she could navigate the empty streets of Boston. The question was, could she trail a bus without being seen?
“Is the other gun back there?” Tori asked.
I lifted the back hatch to see . . . nothing.
“The cowboys must have found it,” I said uneasily.
Tori reached into her gym bag and pulled out the Glock. She reached in again and took out the fully loaded clip that held seventeen bullets. With one quick movement, she slammed the clip into the handgrip and locked it into place.
“I never shot a person,” Tori said. “But I’m willing to try.”
We got into the Explorer. Tori fired up the engine, and seconds later we were rolling back toward Faneuil Hall.
“Pull up near the dumpster,” I offered. “But keep close to the building.”
Tori drove with the headlights off, which made it tricky to see where we were going. The last thing we needed was to slam into a light post. Or a bus. Soon we were gliding close to the building with the dumpster. Tori drove up onto the sidewalk, crossed the brick pedestrian walkway, and pulled to a stop a few feet short of the end of the building.
“I’ll kill the engine, and we can watch from outside,” she said. “When the bus pulls out, we’ll get back in and follow.”
“Do you think you can shadow them without being seen?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” she said impatiently. “It’s not like I’ve done this before.”
She turned off the engine and pulled out the key. When we got out of the SUV, we left the doors open. Getting back in fast was going to be critical.
We crept to the dumpster and took up our familiar position to see that the bus was back and people were already being loaded.
“Jeez, we just made it,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be a full load,” Tori pointed out.
There were many more people than there were the day before. Maybe twice as many. It made me a little nervous to think that Chris might have caught wind that we were on to him and decided to increase his numbers. But there was no way he could have known. Or so I hoped.
Nothing else was out of the ordinary. The girl checked off the names of the victims, they boarded the bus, and the door closed.
“That’s it, let’s go,” Tori said.
We ran for the Explorer and quietly closed the doors after getting in.
“I’ll circle around toward the street they took off on yesterday,” Tori announced.
She hit the gas and rounded the block that was near the same route the bus had taken the day before. She pulled to the side of the road and waited.
I held my breath.
Seconds later, the bus rolled by in front of us.
“And the chase is on,” she declared.
Tori waited a few seconds, then took a quick left onto a street that ran parallel to the route the bus was on.
I rolled down my window in the hope of hearing the bus even when we couldn’t see it. It worked well enough; we could hear the steady, low rumble of its engine.
We soon hit an intersection that forced us to turn directly onto the street that the bus was on.
“Don’t follow too close,” I said. “It’s not like we can get lost in traffic.”
It was still fairly dark. I hoped that would help us blend into the city.
Tori let the bus get several blocks in front of us. It made a few turns, but we saw them all and were able to keep pace.
“It doesn’t look like its leaving town,” I said. “It’s not headed toward the interstate.”
The driver didn’t obey traffic rules. The bus turned the wrong way onto one-way streets and didn’t even slow down for stop signs.
Tori did an awesome job keeping up. There was no way of knowing if the bus driver had seen us, but I felt as though we were doing okay.
“We were here the other day,” Tori pointed out. “It’s turning onto Storrow Drive.”
It was the same route, parallel to the Charles River, that we had taken the day we arrived in Boston. It was also the route we took between Fenway Park and Faneuil Hall.
“Stay on the local streets,” I said. “If we follow it onto Storrow Drive, they’ll see us for sure.”
I had set an almost impossible task for Tori. We had to drive on the far side of buildings from the bus while trying to keep pace. If there had been traffic, we never would have been able to do it. As it was, all we had to do was swerve past abandoned cars. We traveled like that for several minutes until we saw the bus take the curve that led toward Fenway.
Tori was able to stay focused and shadow the bus from a few blocks away, using the buildings to shield us from sight. When the bus turned onto Yawkey Way, there was no doubt in my mind. Its destination was Fenway Park.
Finally, the bus slowed and stopped in front of an entrance gate to the old ballpark. There were a few abandoned cars a block away, so Tori pulled upbehind one. We were a safe distance away but had a clear view of the bus.
“It’s safe to say they’re not here to catch a game,” I said.
Two bulky men stepped out of the gate and approached the bus.
“Oh, that’s not good,” Tori said.
They were dressed in gray, military-like camouflage fatigues and wore black berets. From that distance I couldn’t see whether they had any insignias or patches to identify them. From each of their belts hung what looked like a two-foot-long black baton. They didn’t appear to have any other weapons. When they stepped up to the bus, the door opened and the victims stepped out. Knowing how Jim had been tranquilized, it now looked obvious that they all had been drugged in some way, for they shuffled along in line, zombie-like, toward the entrance.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, pointing above the stadium.
There was a giant steel frame peeking up above the stands. Next to it was the top of what looked like a construction crane.
“Did you see that before?” I asked.
“I don’t remember,” Tori admitted. “But it isn’t normal. It’s like something is being built inside the stadium.”
“That fast?” I said. “I swear that wasn’t there a couple of weeks ago.”
The last of the victims got off the bus, and the two soldiers, or whatever they were, followed them inside. The bus door closed, and the vehicle pulled out, its mission complete.
“We gotta go inside,” I said.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Tori replied.
We got out of the Explorer and jogged toward the stadium. We didn’t go to the same gate that the victims had entered. Instead, we found a set of stairs leading to a higher level and ran up. Our search for a way in didn’t take long. Every last gate was wide open. We slipped inside and found ourselves in the deserted mezzanine. There were no Fenway Franks sizzling or game programs being hawked. There were no peanuts, popcorn, or Cracker Jacks to be found. The place was dead.
Tori and I moved cautiously, hugging close to the walls. There was no telling when one of those soldiers might appear. As we made our way closer to the tunnel that passed under the stands and led to the field, we could hear that the stadium wasn’t as dead as we thought. There was activity happening on the diamond, and it wasn’t a baseball game.
“It sounds like a construction site,” I whispered to Tori.
There was the distinct sound of machinery and hammering and drilling that jumbled together into a storm of white noise. We moved cautiously along the tunnel until we got our first view of the field.
It looked nothing like it did when the Red Sox were playing.
We came out onto the second level of the stadium to look down on what was definitely a construction site. The entire field, including the baseball diamond and the outfield, was gone. In its place was the skeleton of the massive structure that we had seen from outside. It was the frame of a giant dome that covered most of what used to be the field. Metallic, silver skin was being applied to the outside but had only gotten a third of the way to the top, which allowed us to see inside. Looking through the girders showed us that the interior was going to be a vast space, like a circus tent. Or a giant steel igloo. On one side of the dome was the frame of a giant door that had yet to be installed. It looked big enough to drive a truck through.
As incredible a sight as this was, there was something else going on that was even more stunning.
“That’s how it went up so fast,” Tori said, numb.
Workers were scattered throughout the construction site. Hundreds of them. They were all laboring under the watchful eye of several more soldiers. Many of the workers I recognized from the Hall.
The truth became all too clear. People from the Hall weren’t being executed; they were being used as slave labor to build this monstrous structure. It suddenly made sense why we were being treated so well. We were being fed and kept healthy so we could build this contraption.
The realization that we were being groomed as slaves wasn’t the most disturbing truth we discovered. The workers were moving with impossible speed. Men lifted girders that had to weigh ten times their body weight. Women were hauling material and wielding jackhammers that were almost as big as they were. They swarmed over the structure, dangling from the frame, moving pieces into place with inhuman strength. It was like watching a movie play out in fast motion. It was an impossible sight . . .
. . . that was all too possible.
“It’s the Ruby,” I said, stunned. “They were all forced to take it.”
The purpose of the Ruby had suddenly become clear.
“How great is this?” came an enthusiastic voice from the tunnel behind us.
It was a voice that I recognized but never expected to hear again.
Tori and I froze. She knew the voice too. Neither of us wanted to turn to see if it was true.
“I heard you landed at the Hall, but I’m surprised to see you here at Fenway so soon. You weren’t scheduled to start work until next week.”
“This is impossible,” Tori said in a strained whisper.
I knew it wasn’t. Nothing was impossible. Not anymore.
“But that’s cool,” the guy said. “We can always use a few more hands.”
I turned slowly. Though I knew who I would see, it was still a shock, for we had witnessed him being shot dead on a bluff overlooking the ocean and tumbling into the sea.
“Welcome to Fenway,” he said with a warm smile.
Mr. Feit had risen from the grave.

“That’s not exactly true,” Feit said, wagging his finger. “I was shot by a SYLO sniper and you saw me fall into the ocean. Very, very big difference.”

“No,” Tori said, shaking her head as if she could make Feit disappear by force of will and logic. “If the bullet didn’t kill you, the fall should have. You dropped a couple of hundred feet, bouncing off rocks all the way down and—”

“Yeah, I was there,” Feit said, wincing. “Don’t need to relive the details.”
“You were dead,” I stated flatly.
“Obviously not,” he said with a wink. “Unless you believe in ghosts.”
I didn’t, but at that moment I could have been convinced.
Feit looked no worse for wear. He still acted like a casual, older surfer dude, but he had cleaned up his act. The shaggy hair and beard stubble were gone. His blond hair was now cut short and neat. The earring was gone too. Instead of a hoodie and board shorts, he wore the same gray camouflage fatigues as the soldiers who herded the people from the Hall into Fenway.
Feit was not only alive . . . he was a soldier.
“How?” was all I could say.
Feit flopped down into a stadium seat and put his feet up. He had a paper cup with a straw that he sucked on, looking ready for the start of a game.
“After I fell, did you see a speedboat taking off?” he asked between sips.
“Yes!” Tori said. “People were running ahead of us on the trail down to the water. They got to the hidden boats before we did.”
“They pulled me out of the water,” Feit said. “I was in sorry shape, I’ll give you that. But I was still breathing. Those dudes saved me.”
“No way,” I exclaimed. “That was only a couple of weeks ago. Nobody heals that fast.”
“Really? How’s your gunshot wound, Tori?”
Tori’s hand immediately went to the spot where the bullet had passed through her shoulder . . . her completely healed shoulder.
“That medicine they gave me at Faneuil Hall,” Tori said, thinking back. “What was that stuff?”
“Pretty cool, right?” Feit asked with a sly smile as he sipped his drink. “I was back on my feet and ready to go in a couple of days.”
“That’s impossible,” I said with a gasp. “No medicine can do that.”
“Yet here I am,” Feit said holding out his arms. “Alive and kicking.”
“Who are you?” Tori asked, numb. “Where did you come from?”
She made a move as if to grab him and throttle the truth out, but I held her back.
It was a good thing I did.
Two soldiers in fatigues and black berets stepped out from the shadows of the tunnel. They had been hanging back, watching, ready for trouble.
“Easy now,” Feit said with a laugh. “You guys are old friends. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Or get dead.”
Tori backed down, but she twisted the gym bag so it hung in front of her. The zipper was open.
“I’m actually stoked to see you two,” he said. “Sounds like you had a gnarly trip to the mainland.”
“How do you know that?” Tori demanded.
“It was Chris Campbell,” I said. “They’re not helping survivors at the Hall, they’re prepping them to work here on . . . what is that thing?”
I pointed to the massive construction project taking shape on the field.
Feit stood and walked to the railing, where he surveyed the half-finished steel dome.
“That,” he said with pride. “That is salvation.”
“Whose salvation?” I asked.
“Mankind’s, of course. This is what it’s about, Tucker. We’re insuring the survival of the human race. Pretty awesome, right?”
Tori and I exchanged confused looks. I don’t know what I expected Feit to say, but that definitely wasn’t it.
“Survival?” Tori spat, incredulous. “All we’ve seen is death.” “True,” he replied. “That’s a bummer.”
“Bummer?” I cried. “Millions of people are just . . . gone.” Feit shrugged. “What can I say? We’re at war. War has casualties.”
I didn’t know what was more stunning: the fact that Feit was alive or his indifference to the massive loss of life.
“What kind of war is this?” I demanded. “There are no sides. No declarations. There’s no point to any of it but . . . death.”
“Not true,” Feit corrected. “This is a war between ideologies. Between visions of what the world is and what it should be. We’re talking big-picture stuff here. Bigger than any country or race or religion. This is about righting the ship before it hits the rocks. Isn’t that worth fighting over . . . and a few casualties?”
I looked to Tori. She seemed as confused as I was.
“Are you from another planet?” she asked. “I mean, literally?”
Feit let out another laugh. Talking about the deaths of millions didn’t hurt his sense of humor any.
“I guess you could say that,” he replied.
“So you’re an alien?” I asked, incredulous.
“If that’s what you want to believe, sure.”
“What I want is the truth,” I shouted with frustration. “What is SYLO?”
“Ahh, SYLO,” Feit repeated. “There are those who choose to soar and those who prefer to crawl in the dirt. The powers that created those mindless storm troopers can’t see beyond their own selfish, short-term needs. Those fools are fighting to maintain the status quo while pushing mankind to the brink of extinction.”
“But they’re part of the Navy,” I said. “The president of the United States sent them to Pemberwick and—”
“You’re not listening,” Feit snapped, no longer the loose surfer dude. “This isn’t about countries or borders. We’re shaping the future of the entire planet. The United States is irrelevant.”
A scream came from the field.
We looked to see a man falling from the highest point of the structure.
“Oh my God,” Tori gasped.
I always thought that if you fell from an extreme height, you’d pass out before hitting the ground. I was wrong. The doomed man wailed in terror for the entire four seconds it took him to reach the ground. We were spared seeing the impact, for he dropped out of sight behind the partially constructed outer skin of the dome, but I heard the sickening, dull thud as his body hit and the screaming abruptly ended.
We stared in silence for several seconds and then . . .
“Oops,” Feit said with a dismissive shrug.
“You’re using these people,” I said, stunned. “That’s what the Ruby is for. You’re creating superhuman slaves. To do what? Rebuild what you’ve destroyed?”
“No,” Feit said, deadly serious. “They’re rebuilding what they’ve destroyed themselves.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” Tori snarled. “Who are you fighting for? The Air Force?”
“I’m fighting for the future of a doomed planet,” he said as if annoyed at having to explain. “This is a finite world. Nothing new is being created. No new water or fossil fuels or space to handle overpopulation. Many choose to ignore that and live in denial. They’re wrong. They’re dangerous. We’re giving the world a gift by taking control. What we’re offering is a do-over. A second chance.”
“So who are you fighting with?” I demanded.
Feit stood up straight and gave us a mock salute.
“I’m a colonel in the United States Air Force,” he replied proudly. “A twenty-year veteran.”
“You don’t seem like an Air Force colonel,” Tori said.
“Really? How many do you know? I used to be a pilot, but now my expertise lies in the field of human behavior. I’ve been charged with assembling the workforce that will build a better future. It’s a huge job. I’ve been traveling like crazy. Different city every day. I’m kind of beat, to be honest.”
“Poor you,” Tori said sarcastically.
“What I told you on Pemberwick Island wasn’t far from the truth. I
was
testing the Ruby. I wanted to know how much the human body could withstand before, well, before the flame went out. I’m not alone, either. There are plenty of others just like me who have been doing the exact same thing. This isn’t some half-baked operation. It’s been planned for years.”
“By whom?” I demanded. “Who is in charge? Who is controlling the Air Force?”
“Visionaries,” Feit said proudly.
“Murderers,” Tori said.
“So it really is a civil war,” I said soberly.
“You could call it that,” Feit replied. “But as wars go, it’s pretty much over. We’ve already weakened SYLO’s capabilities and secured most of the population centers.”
“What?” I said, stunned.
“Population centers?” Tori repeated, incredulous.
“Oh, come on,” Feit said, scoffing. “You didn’t think this was only happening in your little corner of the world, did you?”
The weight of his words made my knees buckle. I half fell, half sat in a seat. My entire focus had been on bringing down SYLO. I wanted to destroy the devils that ruined my life. Now it seemed as though the SYLO Navy was defenseless against the might of the far superior Air Force. My enemy was fighting back against an even more powerful and dangerous force. We weren’t looking at the mass execution of millions. If Feit was telling us the truth, we were faced with the extermination of billions.
Tori spoke, but barely above a whisper, as if she didn’t want to hear her own words.
“You mean you’ve wiped out the entire population of the world?”
“No!” Feit replied quickly. “That’s just crazy.”
I felt a short moment of relief. Very short.
“Three-quarters, tops,” he continued. “Then again, we’re not done. There’s some additional cleanup planned, especially in the bigger cities.”
It was Tori’s turn to sit down.
“Cleanup,” she muttered.
Feit went on casually, as if explaining a simple math problem. “We’re not planning on total eradication. We need workers to maintain the current infrastructure. At least for a while. Everything will eventually be torn down, re-envisioned and rebuilt, of course. The project here is just the beginning. The one thing we don’t want to do is go back to business as usual. That would defeat the whole purpose.”
“And SYLO was trying to stop you?” I asked.
“Sides have been chosen,” Feit replied, bristling. “Our methods are extreme, I’ll give you that, but they’re nothing compared to what would happen if SYLO prevailed. You may think what we’ve done is barbaric, but if SYLO succeeded, the world as you know it would have ceased to exist. I promise you that. Basically, we’re saving the planet. Hooray for us.”
“But how can you know that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “You wiped out most of the earth’s population on the theory that SYLO would do worse? That’s insane.”
“It’s not insane,” Feit said with confidence. “It’s absolute fact.”
“What proof do you have?”
There was another scream from the field. Another Ruby-fueled worker was falling to his death.
I watched as the horrific scene played out with the same gruesome result. And when I looked back . . .
. . . Tori stood with her legs apart and her hands raised.
Her pistol was aimed directly at Feit.
“Whoa!” he exclaimed and backed off, nearly falling over a stadium seat.
The two soldiers went for the dark batons that hung from their belts.
Tori spun and fired, hitting one of them in the leg. He screamed and fell to the cement floor, clutching his shattered knee. The other soldier held his hands away from his body to show he wasn’t going for his weapon.
“Don’t worry,” Tori said with surprising calm. “A little of that magic potion and you’ll be as good as new. Right?”
“Put it down, Tori,” Feit pleaded. “I know this is a lot to get your head around, but it’s the only way. We’re the good guys.”
Tori turned the gun on Feit, gripping it with both hands.
“There are no good guys,” she snarled. “This is insane.”
“But it isn’t!” Feit cried. “It’s not just about today. We’re fighting for future generations. Without us millions more will die. No, billions.”
“Then so be it,” she said, taking aim. “As long as you’re one of them.”
Feit held his hands up in a futile attempt to protect himself.
I braced myself for the shot.
Tori squeezed the trigger . . .
. . . as the gun was torn from her hand. It clattered to the floor between the seats.
Tori squealed in pain and grabbed at her hand.
The injured soldier on the ground had his black baton pointed at her. It was a weapon that let loose with a charge of invisible power, much like what the black planes fired in daylight. It was yet another example of impossible technology.
Tori and I stood together, totally exposed. The second soldier had already grabbed his baton and leveled it at us.
“Wow,” Feit exclaimed. “You almost had me there.”
His casual way of reacting to everything made me hate him even more. The burning in my gut returned. The enemy once again had a face. I didn’t think for a second that we could change the course of the war, but I knew whom I wanted to make pay for his crimes.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” Feit said. “I was going to give you two a choice. I mean, we go back a long way. I feel bad for you, Tori. Especially since your father got such a raw deal.”
His words were like a punch to Tori’s gut. I saw her waver as if she might fall back, but she held it together and stood firm.
“What are you talking about?” she asked in a small voice.
“He thought he was staging some major revolt to take back his little island. He had no idea we were using him to get to Granger.”
“You . . . what?” Tori asked, stunned.
“Oh yeah. Your father thought he was leading a bunch of local rebels, but half of them were my guys. He was fighting back against SYLO, which is exactly what we wanted.”
Tori winced. It suddenly became clear to me why there were so many strange faces in Mr. Sleeper’s rebel group. They were Air Force infiltrators working for Feit. There were dozens of strange faces on Pemberwick. I had thought they were tourists who stuck around because of the late summer. Could they all have been Air Force agents?
“It’s why we were on Pemberwick Island,” Feit continued. “SYLO was there to make a stand. We couldn’t allow that. Like I said, we’ve been planning this for years.”
Tori fought back tears and straightened up defiantly.
I realized that I was going to have to get in line to take revenge against Feit.
Assuming we got out of there alive.
“You said something about giving us a choice,” I said, desperate to buy some time.
“Right. I was going to let you out of working here. You could have joined my personal team. I don’t see that happening now.”
“How could you think we would help you?” Tori said with disgust.
“To save your own lives of course,” Feit said with a shrug.
He waved to the uninjured soldier and said, “Take them down to the medical unit.”
“Medical unit?” I asked.
“Somebody has to replace those two workers who just fell. It’s Ruby time!”
Boom!
A huge explosion erupted out on the field. The entire stadium rocked, nearly knocking us off our feet. A plume of fire grew from the center of the steel structure.
The soldiers fell to their knees to brace themselves.
Feit spun around toward the field, looking as stunned as we were. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t part of his plan.
Boom!
Another explosion erupted next to the first.
An ear-splitting shriek signaled the arrival of two dark shapes that tore across the sky.
It was an all-too-familiar experience.
They were fighter planes, and not the singing black marauders.
They were U.S. Navy fighters.
SYLO was back.