“That’s why I want you out,” he snapped. “I’ve been ducking them things for days. I don’t need you kids bringing them down on me.”
“Wait,” I exclaimed. “You’re alive.”
“Keen observation, Rook,” Kent said sarcastically.
“I mean you survived the attack,” I said to the man, ignoring Kent. “What happened that night?”
“You don’t know?” he asked suspiciously. “Where you from?”
“Pemberwick Island,” I replied. “We saw the—”
“Pemberwick!” the guy exclaimed as if I’d said we just dropped in from Alcatraz. He held the shotgun higher but took a frightened step back and added, “You got the disease!”
“There is no disease,” Tori said weakly. “The quarantine was just an excuse they used to keep us there.”
“Who?” the old guy asked.
“SYLO,” I answered. “You must have seen it on the news. They’re part of the Navy. They took over the island and were gunning down people who tried to escape so the truth wouldn’t get out.”
“Truth about what?” he demanded.
“There was no virus,” Tori said weakly. “We were prisoners.”
“We think they were experimenting on us with this stuff called the Ruby,” Kent added. “It was killing people, so we left. That pretty much sums it up.”
“What about your parents?” the guy said with suspicion.
The answer would only have confused him more. Tori’s father and Kent’s father were dead, and my parents were part of SYLO. How could I explain that to him? I couldn’t even explain it to myself.
“Look,” I said, ducking the question. “Tori’s hurt. Can I give her some water?”
The man’s gaze jumped between us as he debated what to do. He finally looked to Tori, who sat slumped in the chair behind the counter.
“Over there,” he said, jabbing the shotgun toward another counter.
There was a case of bottled water on the floor. I grabbed one, cracked it open, and brought it to Tori.
“Thank you,” she said and took a few small sips.
“Now, on your way,” the guy commanded, hardening once again.
“We have to get to Maine Medical,” I said. “If her wound gets infected—”
“Then go!” he barked.
“We’ll never make it on foot. We’re going to need a car or—”
“Look!” Olivia screamed.
The black plane was outside the window, at ground level, moving slowly along the street like a giant black shark searching for its next victim.
Nobody moved.
The lethal shadow floated by, the sound of its musical engine growing louder as it moved closer, providing eerie accompaniment while searching the streets for us. Was there a pilot? Or was it an unmanned drone being controlled from a command room miles away?
Seconds passed. The music receded. The plane moved on.
“Now go,” the old man said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t live through an attack on my town just to be given away by a couple of fugitives from a leper colony.”
“Put the gun down,” I barked. “We’re not going anywhere.”
The old man wasn’t sure of how to react to my bold order.
“You can’t shoot, or that plane will come right back here,” I threatened. “And I doubt you’re a killer anyway. What’s your name?”
The man blinked a few times, as if he was having trouble processing what was happening.
“Whittle,” he answered tentatively.
“All right, Mr. Whittle, we’ll be on our way. I promise. But first we need a car.” I looked to Kent and said, “Go get one.”
Kent stiffened. “You go get one!”
“I don’t drive well. You’ve got a better chance.”
Kent looked around, as if searching for an argument. He was a few years older than me, and I didn’t even have my driver’s license. He knew I was right.
“I’ll go with you,” Olivia offered. “This guy makes me nervous.”
Whittle slowly lowered the shotgun, as if embarrassed.
“I’m just trying to protect myself is all,” he said apologetically.
Kent stuck a finger in my face. “You are not in charge.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care who’s in charge as long as we’re smart about what we do. Right now the smart move is for you to get a car.”
Kent’s eyes flared. For a second I thought me might take a swing at me, but Olivia put a hand on his arm and gently pulled him away.
“C’mon,” she said softly. “The sooner we get a car, the sooner we’ll be out of this horrible city.”
Olivia kept surprising me. I don’t think many people told her no… especially guys. She was a spoiled rich girl with cute short blonde hair who was used to getting her way. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous. She was no dummy either. She always seemed to know the exact right thing to say to calm people down, and she was quick to help when it was needed. I guess you’d call her an enigma. Maybe that was why I liked her. That and the gorgeous part.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she said to me, then looked to Whittle and added sweetly, “Don’t go shooting anybody while we’re gone now, ’kay?”
“Sure enough,” Whittle replied meekly.
Olivia had worked her magic on him too.
“Be careful,” Tori called out.
“Gee, you think?” Kent shot back. He looked out of the window to scan the street, then cautiously opened the door and peered outside.
“It’s clear,” he announced and stepped out.
Olivia gave me a small smile and followed him.
There was an awkward moment when nobody knew what to say.
“We’re sorry to give you grief,” I said to Whittle, hoping to get him to lighten up.
“Grief?” he said with an ironic chuckle. “You kids can’t bring on any more grief than we’ve already got.”
“Tell us what happened that night,” Tori asked gently. Whittle softened.
“They came out of nowhere,” he began. “No warning. No explanation. No chance to run for cover.”
“Three nights ago, right?” I asked.
Whittle nodded. He spoke as if in a daze, relating a story that must have been too mind-numbing to believe.
“It was primetime in the Old Port. Early evening. Restaurants were full, saloons were buzzing, people were out strolling, enjoying the warm night. Then the sound came. Like music. Folks stopped and stared up at the sky, pointing. It looked like a wave of bats flying in from the west. They were all perfectly spaced up there, like a pattern. It seemed like a show in the sky. But it was no show. It was a… a storm.”
Whittle’s eyes started to water. It was a painful memory.
“We were out on the ocean,” Tori offered. “We saw the sky light up over the city.”
“It lit up all right,” Whittle said, his voice cracking. “So many people. Families. Little ones. One minute they were out enjoying the evening, and then… they weren’t.”
He looked to the ground, suddenly seeming very tired. He lifted the shotgun, and for a second I was afraid he was going to turn it on himself. Instead, he placed it down on a table, pushing aside a bunch of snow globes that fell to the floor and shattered. He didn’t care.
“Did they use that laser weapon?” I asked tentatively.
“Is that what it’s called?” Whittle snapped. “All I saw were streaks of light coming out of the sky. The beams would join up and grow stronger, like they were coming together to build up energy. It was almost pretty, like a holiday spectacle. But there was nothing pretty about what those lights did. Whatever they hit would light up and then… poof. Gone. Whole buildings were there one second and gone the next. It seemed impossible, especially since it was all so silent. There were no explosions or sounds of buildings crumbling. All you could hear was the music of their engines… and the screams.”