He was still moving. Fast. Every so often I’d catch a fleeting glimpse of him as he appeared from behind one of the cones before disappearing behind another. A few seconds went by without me hearing him. Was the conversation over? Where was he going? I had no choice but to keep moving in the same direction and hope I’d spot him again. I rounded one of the cones…
…and came face-to-face with him.
He had turned around and was headed back toward the carnival. Granger stopped short. I saw a brief look of confusion cross his eyes. I was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place me. Those few seconds of confusion gave me the time I needed. I reached behind my back, pulled out the Glock, and held it on him, keeping it steady with two hands.
“Tucker Pierce,” he said, finally recognizing me.
“Why aren’t you dead?” I asked.
Granger was on full alert, though he didn’t look as scared as he should have, considering he was facing a gun held by a squirrely guy with a chip on his shoulder.
He said, “That was quite the stunt you pulled, navigating between those two burning ships. That took guts.”
“I saw your boat explode.”
“It did. I wasn’t on board. The commander was willing to chase you into that inferno, but wouldn’t risk my life. He shoved me overboard before turning into that flaming gauntlet. The entire crew was killed.”
“Did you order him to follow us?” I asked.
“I did.”
“Then you should have been with them,” I said with disdain. “Agreed. But I wasn’t, and so here we are. Will you be shooting me?”
“That’s the plan.”
The only sign of stress that Granger showed was with his cell phone. He kept spinning it in his hand. He was far more concerned with the news he had gotten over the phone than with me. “You’re a long way from home,” Granger said calmly, gesturing to his left.
He was pointing to a building that stood a few hundred yards from us. It was a large but squat two-story structure made of light colored cement. It looked like a fortified bunker with windows. I had no doubt that it was the famous gold repository. “Why are you here?” I asked. “Why Fort Knox? Is it about the gold, or the vault?”
Granger lifted an eyebrow.
“You’re a smart kid,” he said, though it sounded more like an insult than a compliment. “Gold is going to be the foundation for a new monetary system. Or so they tell me. That kind of business is way above my pay grade. I’m just a simple soldier.”
“Is that why SYLO has so much firepower here?” I asked. “To protect the gold?”
“To protect the future,” he replied. “Are you enjoying the carnival? We’re trying to make it as pleasant here as we can.”
“Really? Pleasant? SYLO is putting on a carnival while trying to destroy mankind?”
His eyes went wide, and for the first time since I’d met the guy… he smiled. It was small, but it was real.
“I see you’ve been spending time with the Retros,” he said. “The what?”
“The Retros. That’s what we call ’em. The black planes. The Ruby. The genocide. They’re accusing us of trying to bring about the end of days, so what do they do? They wipe out two-thirds of the planet’s population. Does that make any kind of sense to you?”
“They said we needed to start over. To reset.”
“And you believe that?” he asked, incredulous.
“I don’t know what to believe!” I screamed with frustration. He thought he had an opening and took a step toward me. I lifted the gun to his face.
“Stop!” I commanded.
He did.
“I’m scared as hell,” I said, “and I hate your guts, so take one more step and I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in your head.” It was strong talk… that I knew I couldn’t back up. Granger knew it too. All I had to do was pull the trigger… but I couldn’t.
I didn’t know it for sure until that moment. I wasn’t a killer, no matter how badly I wanted him dead. I think the only reason he didn’t attack me was to avoid being shot by accident.
“You’re backing the wrong horse, son,” he said calmly. “I’m not backing anybody! All I see is the Air Force battling the Navy in a civil war that’s killed billions of people. For what? What’s the point? Explain it to me.”
“No,” he said flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“You… what? You invaded my home, murdered dozens of people, turned my parents against me, tried to shoot me out of the water, and you don’t trust me?”
Granger leaned forward. I lifted the gun until the site was centered between his eyes.
“You should have listened to your mother,” he said without flinching.
That threw me.
“My mother?”
“She warned you not to trust anyone, yet here you are, holding a gun on the bad old soldier man you think is the cause of all the problems. How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
I had to grip the gun tighter to keep my hands from shaking. “Maybe you’re too young to understand, but they’re using you, son. Those Retros are like termites. You don’t know they’re in the walls, eating the wood, until your house falls down.”
“Nobody’s using me to do anything,” I argued lamely. “Then go give those bastards a message. From me. Tell ’em we’re not done. Far from it. Tell ’em to go ahead and try to build another one of their monstrosities. Soon as they do, we’ll blow it to dust again, just like in Boston.”
His words rocked me.
“Boston,” I repeated, numb. “What was that thing? What were they building?”
“A gate to hell,” he said with disdain. “They already got one, we won’t let ’em get another.”
My mind was spinning, desperately trying to make sense of what this guy was telling me.
“Another? They have a gate to hell?”
“For now,” Granger said cockily. “They think it’s protected, but we’ll get that one too. It’s only a matter of time. We’re going to send those devils back to where they came from.”
There was a crazy fire in his eyes that terrified me.
“Where is this gate?” I asked.
“Middle of nowhere,” he replied. “Mojave Desert. They think they can protect it out there. They can’t. I want you to tell them that.”
“No!” I shouted, backing off. “There’s nobody to tell. I’m not with them.”
Granger laughed. “If you don’t want to listen to your mother, listen to me. You gotta be careful about the company you keep.” His hand flashed forward, and he grabbed the muzzle of the Glock. I wasn’t fast enough to react as he yanked it out of my hand.
He then grabbed the walkie-talkie from my belt.
“You tell ’em,” he said. “Let ’em know we’re coming.”
“Let who know?” I asked, pleading. “Feit? He’s in Boston. I don’t know any other Retros.”
Granger looked at the walkie-talkie and laughed.
“We have no beef with you, kid.”
“Then why were you trying to kill me on Pemberwick Island?”
“I wasn’t,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t say the same about your friends.”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
“I told you,” Granger said. “They’re like termites. You don’t know they’re in your house until it’s too late.”
I was reeling. Of all the things I had seen and heard, this was the most disturbing of all… and the most impossible. “Are you saying my friends are Retros? That’s crazy!” The wailing sound of a siren drowned out the carnival noise. “What is that?” I asked.
“Damn! I guess they really are coming,” Granger snarled. “Who? Who’s coming?”
Granger shoved the walkie-talkie into my chest and tossed the gun away behind him.