Storm (6 page)

Jon said, “Somehow this makes it seem more like looting.”
Tori reached inside the hole, unlocked the door, and we were in.
It was sportsman heaven. There were displays of every kind of archer’s bow you could imagine, camouflage hunting gear, an entire wall of fishing rods and reels, and guns. Lots of guns. One whole wall was taken up by rifles on racks.
Kent ran straight for the rifles. He picked one up and set his sights on a stuffed deer on the far side of the store.
“Say your prayers, Bambi,” he declared, laughing.
“Stop!” Tori screamed.
Kent lowered the rifle and looked at her.
“What?” he asked, sounding genuinely clueless.
“These aren’t toys,” she scolded. “Put it down.”
She was dead serious, and Kent knew it. He didn’t argue and sheepishly put the rifle back in its rack.
“I hope this isn’t a bad idea,” Olivia said nervously.
Tori went for the counter where the handguns were stored. She seemed to know what she was looking for, so I didn’t bother asking. Instead, I looked around the store for anything else we might need. I spotted walkie-talkies. If we got separated we would need to stay in contact, so I figured they might come in handy. Better still, I found a solar-powered charger that we could use to keep the batteries at full power.
“Over here,” Tori called.
We all joined her.
On the counter were two identical black handguns.
“These are Glock 17s,” she said. “Policemen use them.”
She picked up one of the guns and expertly pulled the chamber back to examine it.
“I’m making sure there are no rounds in there,” she explained.
“Bullets,” I said. “Calling them ‘rounds’ makes it seem less . . . lethal.”
She ignored me and continued. “It fires a nine-millimeter . . . bullet.” She pulled out the clip from the grip and showed it to us. “This holds seventeen . . . bullets.”
“The more, the merrier,” Kent said.
His eyes were wide as he stared at the gun like a kid who couldn’t wait to get his hands on a new Christmas toy.
Tori grabbed several boxes of ammunition from a shelf and placed them on the counter.
“I’ll load two magazines but only put one in a gun. We’ll keep the loaded weapon in the glove compartment. The other we’ll store in the back cargo area, unloaded with the clip separate. When we get the chance, I’ll teach you all how to shoot.”
Kent picked up one of the guns and felt its weight.
“What’s so hard?” he asked. “You point this end and bang!”
He held the gun loosely and pretended to shoot.
Tori grabbed his gun hand and held it firmly.
“If you shoot like that you’ll miss, and the recoil would probably kick the gun out of your hand.”
“How do you know so much about guns?” Kent asked.
“My father,” Tori said as she let Kent loose and started loading bullets into the magazine. “We had to protect our property. Our lobster boats. He wanted me to be totally safe with the weapons in the house, so he taught me well.”
I saw the hint of a tear growing in Tori’s eye, and her voice cracked. It felt like a couple of lifetimes since her father was gunned down by SYLO, but it was only the day before. She wiped her eye quickly and cleared her throat, as if embarrassed to have shown her emotions.
“You a good shot?” Kent asked.
“That’s irrelevant,” she replied, back in control. “These guns are only accurate to ten yards, tops. Even then you have to be good to hit anything. These are for our protection. We’re not going to be playing James Bond. Hopefully we won’t need them, but if we do, we’ll have them.”
“They still make me nervous,” Olivia said.
“Not me,” Jon said. “I’m feeling safer already.”
“Until I check you out, nobody touches these but me,” Tori declared. “Understand?”
She looked at each of us in turn. Everyone nodded, including Kent.
“Now we can go,” she said. “Jon, take the ammunition.”
She swooped up the guns and headed for the door.
Jon obediently grabbed the boxes of bullets.
I had mixed feelings about having the guns. I could see that we might need them for protection. That made all sorts of sense . . . as long as somebody didn’t do something stupid and shoot one of us in the foot. Or worse.
When we got to the car, Tori put the second gun and the ammunition in the rear compartment near the spare tire. She kept one box of ammunition and put it in the glove box up front. She expertly pulled the loaded magazine from the gun’s grip and placed it next to the ammunition. She then did a quick check of the gun to make sure no bullets were in the firing chamber. Satisfied that it was safe, she put it into the glove compartment and slammed it shut.
Tori was now riding shotgun. Literally.
Olivia opened her mouth, ready to fight for her spot in the car, but thought better of it. With a huff, she got in the back seat next to me.
“I can reach the gun back here if you need it!” Jon announced from the third row.
Nobody responded.
Kent fired up the engine, then turned to face us.
“Are we ready now?” he asked.
“Let’s go to Boston,” I said.
Kent hit the gas, and we were finally on our way.

We were on edge the whole way because none of us knew what we would find there. Or
not
find. Would the city be surrounded by the military to protect it from attack? Which military would that be? Would SYLO have surrounded Boston like they did Pemberwick Island? Or would the Air Force and their killer planes be in control?

Would Boston even be there?
For the entire trip, we constantly stole quick, nervous glances to the sky for fear that an Air Force plane would come swooping in after us, but none appeared. Was their mission complete? Or had they moved on to another target?
I kept staring at the glove compartment, knowing a gun was inside. I’m not a wuss or anything. We needed to protect ourselves, but the idea of having a weapon so close that could easily take a life was disturbing. I know how dumb that sounds. After all we’d been through, it didn’t make sense that I should be so obsessed with a pistol that held seventeen bullets, but I was. I can’t honestly say whether I was afraid of the gun, or worried that I wouldn’t have the guts to use it.
I leaned forward between the two front seats, turned on the radio, and scanned the frequencies. There was nothing to hear but a whole lot of static.
Olivia gave me a weak smile and a shrug.
“It was worth a try,” she said sympathetically.
She rubbed my arm as if to console me. I didn’t mind, until I saw that Kent was staring at us from the rearview mirror. I quickly twisted away from her without making it seem as though I was twisting away from her.
After we had driven for over an hour, Kent asked, “Should I say it first?
I knew what he meant. We all did.
The deadly Air Force storm hadn’t stopped in Portland.
“It’s the exact same,” Olivia said, hardly above a whisper.
The entire length of the highway looked like the stretch leading into Portland. Abandoned cars were everywhere, with far more wrecks than we saw in Maine. Vehicles had driven into ditches, slammed into guardrails, flipped into the medians, and crashed into each other. It felt as though we were driving through an auto graveyard.
Or an actual graveyard.
Yet there wasn’t a single person to be seen.
“No jet fighter wrecks,” Kent pointed out. “Or bomb craters. Maybe there wasn’t a battle here.”
“Well, something happened,” Olivia said. “I mean . . . look.”
It was grim enough that the population of Portland had been wiped out. Boston had ten times more people. When you added in the suburbs that stretched from Maine to Massachusetts, the possibility of what we were headed toward was too much to comprehend.
Olivia said it best without saying a word.
She started to cry.
“There have to be survivors,” Tori said, numb. “An entire population can’t just be . . . erased.”
“There will be,” I said hopefully. “Just like in Portland.”
“We’ll find them,” Jon said, doing his best to sound positive.
We were all trying to think practically. It was the only way to keep from going totally out of our minds. I did my best to focus on the present because to think of the big picture was overwhelming. None of us said the obvious, but I knew we were thinking it: If Boston had been attacked by the black Air Force planes and another population center had been obliterated, what did that mean for the rest of the country?
Or the world?
We drove on for several more minutes, moving closer to Boston and deeper into the desolate horror. Kent had to swerve a few times to steer clear of cars that were stopped dead on the interstate. When we passed through the town of South Lynnfield, we were hit with a new grim vision.
“Is that what I think it is?” Kent asked with trepidation.
Ahead of us was a structure that at first appeared to be a partially collapsed building. As we drove closer, the truth became clear in the form of a logo: Delta Airlines.
“Oh no,” Tori said with a gasp.
It was the wreckage of a commercial jetliner that had crashed into a strip mall. The tail was kicked up into the air, and the fuselage had been broken in two. The entire wreck was scorched black from a fire that had long since burned out. The only thing missing were bodies.
As we moved closer to the city, we passed no fewer than ten similar burned-out plane wrecks.
“It’s like they just dropped out of the sky,” I said, hardly believing it could be possible.
“Boston’s going to be empty,” Olivia said, sounding shakier than Tori. “We’re not going to find anybody there to help us.”
“I don’t understand,” Tori said, her voice quivering with emotion. “What kind of war is this? How can you invade a city, wipe out everyone, and then just . . . leave? What’s the point? It’s insanity!”
“I knew we should have gone to Nevada,” Jon said.
Tori shot me a sideways look. I didn’t return it.
“Shut up!” Kent shouted. “Just shut up! Everybody. I gotta think.”
“Let’s keep it together,” I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt. “The entire population of Boston can’t be wiped out. We’ll find people.”
“What about the plan to tell the world about Pemberwick?” Tori said.
“I doubt if that matters anymore,” I said. “I think the rest of the world knows plenty. Compared to what we’re seeing, our little island is irrelevant.”
“Not to me it isn’t,” Kent snapped.
“Yeah, well, change your thinking,” I said. “I hate to say this, but we’re in survival mode now. I want answers as much as everybody else, but I’m more worried about staying alive. We need to find some other survivors. There’s safety in numbers.”
“Tell that to the people of Boston,” Tori said.
We drove on in silence, skirting abandoned cars and burnedout jetliners. As we approached the city, I scanned the skyline for any buildings that might be missing, but I didn’t know Boston well enough to pick any out.
As we drove across the Tobin Bridge that spanned the Charles River and led to downtown, I looked down to see a jetliner floating with its tail barely above water.
“Boston’s dead,” Olivia said softly and with finality.
Nobody argued.
Kent turned south on Storrow Drive, which took us along the Charles. Looking left to the city, we saw no signs of life. Looking right to the Charles, we spotted two more half-submerged plane wrecks and many small boats drifting free.
“It’s beyond a nightmare,” Tori whispered.
“I don’t think anybody died in those crashes,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Impossible,” Kent snapped back.
“I’m not saying they’re not dead, I just don’t think they died in the crashes. None of those empty cars had their doors open. And we haven’t seen a single body. Not one.”
“Except for the Navy pilot outside of Portland,” Kent pointed out.
“He died in the dogfight,” I said. “That’s different. I don’t think there was a battle here. I think people were obliterated by the weapon the Air Force has, just like in Portland. How else could so many people have disappeared without a trace? Same with the airliners.”
“Then why didn’t the cars disappear along with them?” Tori asked. “Like the buildings in Portland? Or Quinn on the boat or—”
She didn’t finish the sentence. The memory was too raw.
“That guy Whittle in the Old Port said it,” I offered. “Sometimes the buildings disappeared, other times the light reached inside and took the people without touching the buildings. Who’s to say what that weapon can do? Maybe it can target organic life forms and leave structures intact . . . unless they choose to obliterate them.”
“We haven’t seen any animals,” Jon pointed out. “You’d think there’d be a stray dog or cat lurking around.”
“It’s horrible,” Tori said. “You’re talking about a weapon that can sweep across cities and kill thousands of people every second.”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I said. “When we saw Portland lighting up that night, it wasn’t a battle, it was a mass execution.”
“Jeez,” Kent said, stunned.
“There wasn’t any sound,” Tori said, remembering. “No explosions. No crashes. No sirens or alarms. We would have heard that over the ocean.”
“It was probably over in minutes,” I said solemnly.
Jon added, “Dr. Kayamori and I survived because we were down in the bowels of the hospital where that weapon couldn’t reach us.”
“Which means there have to be other survivors who were protected the same way,” I declared. “We’re not going to be totally alone.”
“I can’t believe this,” Tori said, stunned. “We’re talking about the United States Air Force systematically wiping out the population of two major cities.”
“Maybe my idea isn’t so farfetched,” Kent said. “This really could be an alien invasion.”
“Aliens that put Air Force logos on their planes?” I asked, incredulous.
“Who cares what kind of logos they have! Maybe they use the same logo on the planet Nimnac! I’ve never heard of any weapon that can do this. It makes nukes seem like BB guns.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t believe that we’ve been invaded by creatures from another planet,” I said adamantly.
“I can’t believe
any
of this!” Kent bellowed. “But we’re looking at the possible annihilation of the human race. There, I said it. Portland’s been wiped out. Boston doesn’t look any better. We haven’t had communication with the rest of the world in weeks. For all we know, those planes hit every city in the country. In the
world
. What makes more sense? That our own military wiped out the earth’s population, or that it’s somebody from another world?”
“The entire population hasn’t been wiped out,” Tori said. “There’s SYLO.”
“Yeah, until tonight, when those planes show up again and finish off whatever’s left of those Navy ships . . . and Pemberwick Island.”
“Stop!” Olivia shouted, in tears. “This is horrible!”
“That’s one word for it,” Kent said. “It’s gonna be dark soon. I don’t want to be driving around when those planes fire up their ray guns.”
“We should find a place to spend the night,” I said.
Kent turned off of Storrow Drive near Fenway Park. Fenway is the greatest ballpark in the majors. At least that’s what my father always said, and I had to agree. We’d been to many games there, mostly against the Yankees and mostly to see the Sox get their butts whipped, but that didn’t make the park any less special.
It was late September. Playoff time. Fenway should have been rocking. Instead, it was dead quiet and empty, more proof of the horror that had become our new lives. Kent drove us right up to the familiar structure. There were no other cars or vending carts to stop us. Colorful Red Sox banners fluttered in the breeze, a cruel reminder that this was a place where people came for fun. Now it was an empty shell in a city of the dead.
Kent said, “Maybe the Sox were safe deep down in the locker room when—WHOA!”
He jammed on the brakes, and we came to an abrupt stop.
Twenty yards ahead of us, hovering a few feet above the roadway, was a black Air Force plane. It was like we had rounded the bend in a wooded trail and came upon a snake that was coiled and ready to strike.
The moment was frozen in time.
We sat there like two gunslingers, waiting for the other to twitch. The music of the plane’s engines was faint, but I heard it.
“What do I do?” Kent asked with a strained, terrified whisper.
I looked around quickly, hoping to see an escape route or at least some protection to shield us from the plane. There was nothing.
Tori slowly moved her hand forward and opened the glove compartment.
“You’re dreaming,” Kent cautioned.
“You have a better idea?” Tori asked.
While looking straight ahead at the plane, Tori eased the gun out and cocked a bullet into the chamber.
“Open the sunroof,” she commanded.
“You can’t be serious,” Olivia cried.
“Open the sunroof,” Tori repeated through gritted teeth.
Kent followed orders. He hit the button on the dash and the sunroof slid open while Tori unlocked her seat belt.
“I’m going to stand up and start shooting,” Tori said.
“No!” Jon cried. “You’ll get us killed!”
“If I’m going to die,” Tori said without looking back at him, “I’m going to do some damage first. Kent, when I start firing, get us the hell out of here.”
I wanted to stop her but didn’t know what else we could do.
Kent tightened his grip on the wheel.
Olivia whimpered with fear.
Jon dropped down to the floor.
Tori slipped out of her seat belt and made a move to stand up . . .
. . . as the music from the black plane grew louder. It was powering up its engines.
Slowly, it began to float toward us.
“Too late!” Kent yelled.
He threw the Explorer into reverse and jammed his foot on the gas.
“No!” Tori screamed and fell back into her seat with a grunt of pain.
I pushed Olivia down to the floor, for whatever good that would do.
Kent was twisted around backward, a wild look in his eyes, as he fought to stay in control of the SUV.
“Is it coming?” he shouted.
“It’s rising into the air,” I replied. “And closing.”
“Damn!” Kent bellowed. “Hang on!”
He spun the wheel, and the SUV whipped around so quickly I feared we would flip. We crashed into a couple of garbage cans and narrowly missed hitting a cement light pole, but Kent stayed in control and got us turned in the other direction.
“We can’t outrun that thing,” I warned.
“We can try,” Kent shot back.
I turned to see that the black plane had lifted higher off the ground and was drifting closer. In seconds it would be directly over us.
“Find an alley,” I screamed. “Anything to keep it off of us.”
“You say that like I’m not already trying!” Kent yelled back.
Tori made a move toward the sunroof again.
“Sit down!” I shouted.
I grabbed her belt and yanked her back into the seat.
She glared at me but stayed put.
“We’re reaching the end of the stadium. When I make the turn, hang on,” Kent commanded. “I’m going to floor it and—whoa!”
When he turned the corner onto Brookline Avenue, we were faced with a dozen cop cars with flashing lights headed our way.
“What?” Kent screamed.
I thought for sure there would be a head-on collision. Kent slammed the brakes. The seatbelts held us all in our seats, except for Tori. She flew forward and hit the dashboard. I heard her squeal as she hit—and I hoped that the gun wouldn’t accidently go off.
The cars all hit the sirens, joining together in a steady, aggressive wail that would have been annoying if it weren’t so welcome.
“What’s happening?” Olivia asked, stunned.
“I think the cavalry just arrived,” I replied.
“They’re crazy,” Jon shouted. “They’ll be blown apart.”
The group of screaming cars split apart and passed us on either side.
We all turned quickly to see them chase after the black plane that was now headed in the opposite direction and gaining altitude. It was like seeing a black fox being chased off by a pack of hungry dogs. Only in this case, the fox had lethal teeth that could easily tear the hounds apart.
“I don’t get it,” Jon said, stunned.
“What is it afraid of?” I added. “It’s not like the cops can shoot it out of the sky.”
“Or maybe they can,” Tori sniffed.
The black plane banked sharply to the left and accelerated, rising into the sky. Seconds later, it was out of sight.