I must have waited there for an hour either nervously tapping my foot or pacing. I kept telling myself that the SYLO honchos were taking us seriously and were meeting to discuss what they were going to do. That wouldn’t happen quickly. You don’t launch a massive attack on a whim.
I did everything I could to burn energy and stay inside my own skin. I did push-ups and sit-ups. I counted the cracks in the floor. I licked the lunch plate a dozen times just to make sure I got every drop of gravy-goodness. Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided to go outside and ask the guard what was going on.
I had gotten halfway across the floor to the door, when it opened.
Stepping into the room was Captain Granger.
“Hello Mr. Pierce,” he said, all business.
I think my draw dropped. Literally.
“You . . . you’re not dead,” I mumbled.
“Not yet,” he said with no hint of irony.
He held an iPad that he was reading from. I assumed it showed transcripts from our interviews. He walked to one end of the long table, the end without the dirty plates, and sat.
“What happened to you?” I asked. “After the crash, I mean.”
Without taking his eyes off of the iPad he said, “I was unconscious, so I can only go by what I’ve been told. Another Skyhawk came in to rescue survivors. They were only on the ground for a few moments when they came under heavy fire. They only had time to pull out one survivor.”
“So they chose their boss,” I said.
Granger went back to his reading. I paced, desperately wanting him to say something.
“The future sucks, you know,” I finally said. “They blame us. You, me, everybody who came before them. Part of me understands why they’re trying to get the hell out.”
“So you agree with their methods?” he asked.
“No,” I said quickly. “But if I could press a button and wipe out every last one of them, I’d do it. Does that make me any different than them?”
“It makes you human,” Granger said. “As for the morality of it all, that call has to be made by somebody with a much higher pay grade than me.”
“How could this have happened?” I said. “The Bridge was open for decades. Why didn’t anybody do something? We saw what was coming.”
He finally put the iPad down and looked at me. “I’m not a politician. I’m not a sociologist or a psychologist. And I am far from a scientist. I’m a simple soldier. The circumstances that led us to this place are beyond my comprehension.”
“How long have you known? About the Bridge, I mean.”
“Ten years. That’s about the time when the idea for SYLO was born. The way I understand it, from the very beginning there was tension between the governments of the present and the future. It made the Cold War pale by comparison. The future government pushed to have its existence revealed. They felt if the people of the past knew what they were creating, they would choose a different course. The present government resisted, for fear it would tear apart the fabric of society. The only reason they were able to keep the situation under wraps was because the Bridge was so isolated. All of those alien spaceship theories about Area 51 weren’t far from wrong. They just missed it by sixty-five miles.”
“So the present government ignored the truth?” I asked.
“No, but they were fighting a losing battle. Over the years only a small group of scientists were allowed to study the twenty-fourth century. The movement to develop renewable energy and to reduce greenhouse gases, even the push to recycle, began because they saw what was coming. But they couldn’t battle against the tide of commerce. People complained the government was trying to rule their lives. The bottom line was the bottom line. Money. And yes, the various administrations and governments kid themselves into believing the small efforts that were being made would be enough to avoid the nightmare that the future had become. The truth is, we still don’t know. We won’t know until we get there.”
“Because changing the past won’t affect a future that already exists,” I said.
“Exactly. Once that became known, the die was cast. When the future government realized that nothing we did could actually help them, they prepared to invade.”
“And we knew about it?” I asked.
“No, we suspected it,” Granger replied. “Every movement of our scientists in the twenty-fourth century was suddenly controlled and monitored. We witnessed signs of an immense military buildup. We asked to inspect various manufacturing areas and were refused. We were given the rationale that the United States of the future needed to build up their military in order to defend themselves against the other six countries they were at war with.”
“But they were really preparing to invade the past,” I said.
Granger nodded. “That’s what we feared and that’s why SYLO was born.”
“Sequentia yconomus libertate te ex inferis obedianter,” I said. “These guardians obediently protect us from the gates of hell.”
“Or something like that,” Granger said with a dismissive huff. “I didn’t come up with that. The decision was made to create smaller communities that we had a better chance of defending. Arks, if you will. Over a ten-year period we chose volunteers to populate these arks. We selected people from all walks of life with different areas of expertise. Doctors, engineers, architects, musicians, pretty much every skill and talent that needed to be preserved was represented, along with every race and religion.”
“My father is a civil engineer,” I said. “My mother is an accountant. Quinn’s parents were doctors.”
“Hundreds of people quietly volunteered to uproot their lives and move to an ark. The idea was that if the Retros ever attacked, we would need them in order to rebuild our world.”
“When SYLO came to Pemberwick, you must have known the attack was imminent,” I said.
“It was more than imminent,” Granger said. “It was underway. The Retros finally made their move to come through the Bridge. I showed you the aftermath of that battle from the air.”
“All those wrecked aircraft surrounding the dome,” I said. “They were trying to keep the Retro planes from coming through.”
“They failed,” Granger said. “The battle lasted for over a week. Once we realized it was hopeless, we activated the arks. That’s when SYLO landed on Pemberwick Island and here on Catalina and Fort Knox and a dozen other places. These arks were to be our last stand. But even that plan was flawed when we realized how many Retro spies had infiltrated them. You may have thought my methods were ruthless on Pemberwick Island, and they were, but I was doing all that I could to protect the ark.”
I sat listening, letting this all sink in. Everything that Granger said fit. Every last piece of the puzzle had come together.
“And that brings us to today, and what you and your friends have learned,” Granger said. “I believe I know you, Tucker Pierce. I shudder to think that I nearly caused your death.”
“Yeah, about a dozen times,” I said.
“What I’m saying is I believe you. I believe Sleeper and Berringer as well. Do you know for an absolute fact that the Retros are preparing a second-wave invasion?”
“I do,” I said with confidence. “It could be as soon as tonight. We saw a dozen of those monster planes lined up on the other side of the bridge, ready to come through. They’re going to wait for nightfall and finish the job. First the cities, then the population at large.”
Granger nodded thoughtfully.
“This Major Brock who came back with you,” Granger said. “He is an impressive young man.”
“All the Sounders are,” I said. “They formed an underground network that is ready to fight back. Olivia Kinsey is a Sounder. You should shudder to think that you almost killed her, too.”
Granger ignored that comment and said, “Do these Sounders realize that if they succe
ed in their plan to destroy the Bridge, they’re ultimately committing suicide?”
“They do. That’s how strongly they feel about stopping the invasion. They’re planning to detonate an atomic device in the dome at six o’clock. Sharp. I believe they can do it, but only if the dome on this side of the Bridge is protected.”
Granger stood and paced. It was the most nervous I’d ever seen him, except for maybe when he got the word at Fort Knox that an attack was imminent. Or when our helicopter was plummeting to earth.
“We’ve had a plan in place to stage a ground attack on the test site for years. But it was never carried about because of the drones. We simply cannot stand up to them.”
“Unless the Sounders take them out of play,” I said.
Granger’s eyes lit up. The idea that the drones could be stopped was like an impossible dream come true.
“We didn’t know about the Sounders,” he said. “We had suspicions. Even hopes. But we never had conclusive evidence that there were forces within the Retros that could help us bring them down . . . until now.”
“So does that mean you’ll attack?” I asked.
Granger sat on the edge of the table and rubbed his face. The guy suddenly looked a hundred years old. I guess fighting a war will do that to you. He looked at me and chuckled. He actually chuckled.
“If a superior officer told me they were going to put our troops in harm’s way based on information brought to him by a bunch of kids, I’d immediately call for his removal and court-martial, not to mention a psychiatric evaluation.”
“But you aren’t crazy,” I said.
“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, wistfully. “But there is one thing I do know: We’re losing this war. SYLO has failed. All we’ve managed to do is prolong the inevitable. It won’t matter if the Retros choose tonight to launch another attack or next week or next year. They hold all the cards. Two of the arks have already fallen. Three others are barely holding on. It really is only a matter of time before they take complete control and wipe out every last hint that our time, our society, ever existed.”
It took everything I had not to ask him about Pemberwick Island, and my father.
Granger looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re a hell of a kid, you know that? All three of you are. I wish I could have met the Kinsey girl, knowing what I know now.”
“Without shooting at her, you mean?”
We stared at each other for several seconds.
“Six o’clock just keeps on getting closer,” I said.
The door to the building opened behind me. Granger looked up and did something I never expected. He stood up straight, like a soldier at attention.
I had no idea what he was doing, until I turned around to see who had walked into the room. When I saw him, I jumped up too.
It was a guy whose face I had only seen on TV. The last time was when he was explaining to the world how Pemberwick Island needed to be quarantined. It suddenly made sense why the defenses around Catalina Island were much stronger than anywhere else.
President Richard E. Neff was there.
He looked exactly as he did on TV, though maybe a little older. His short gray hair had become grayer and his eyes looked tired. He wore jeans and a windbreaker. Not exactly presidential attire.
“Relax son,” he said with an easy smile. “I just wanted to meet the fella who has been causing all the stir.”
He walked up to me with his hand out to shake.
“I’m Richard,” he said warmly.
I shook his hand and mumbled, “I . . . I’m Tucker.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Tucker.”
After shaking my hand he sat on the edge of the table and glanced at Granger’s iPad.
“I’ve heard your story, Tucker,” he said. “I’ve heard all of your stories. You’ve had quite the adventure.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” I said.
Neff chuckled. “That’s exactly what Tori said.”
That didn’t surprise me.
“I have complete faith in Captain Granger and those in his command,” Neff said. “But the decision about where we go from here rests with me. I need to ask you one question.”
“Anything, sure,” I said eagerly.
“Can the Sounders do this?”
I started to answer quickly, but stopped. This wasn’t some random question that I could offer a quick opinion on. If these people believed me, if the president of the United States believed me, we would be responsible for sending an army into battle. People would die. Lots of people. These words would be the most important I had ever spoken in my life.
“I can’t say that for sure, sir,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s not that I question them, or don’t believe they have the ability, it’s just that I’m not an expert. Anything can happen. But if you’re asking me if I believe the Sounders are going to put their lives on the line to destroy the Bridge and take control of the drones, then my answer is yes. They’ll do it, or die trying.”
The president nodded thoughtfully.
“There’s something else I can say for sure,” I added.
“What’s that?” the president asked.
“Unless you’ve got something brilliant up your sleeve that I don’t know about, the Sounders are our only chance. Our last chance.”
The president looked me square in the eye for several seconds. All I could do was hope my words had gotten through to him. In those few moments I saw the resolve and confidence of someone who had to shoulder the burden and responsibility of being the most powerful person in the world.
He abruptly stood and put his hand out to shake.
“Thank you, Tucker,” he said. “From the bottom of my heart.”
We shook hands.
He then turned to Granger and offered one simple yet profound command, “Go.”
“Yes sir,” Granger said with enthusiasm. It was the word he had been waiting to hear.
Neff started for the door.
“Just one thing,” I said.
The president stopped and turned back. “Yes?”
“I’m going too,” I said.
“Negative,” Granger said quickly. “There’s no place for you on this mission.”
“If it weren’t for me and my friends there wouldn’t be a mission,” I shot back. “All I’m asking is for my pulser back, and a ride in. You don’t have to be responsible for me.”
“Look, Pierce,” Granger said. “Nobody has more respect for what you’ve all done than me. Not just respect, awe. But you aren’t trained for a mission like this. It would be suicide.”
“Why do you want to go so badly?” the president said.
“My mother’s in that camp,” I said.
That stopped them both. Granger opened his mouth to argue, but didn’t.
“I’m going to get her out of there,” I added.
“Funny thing,” the president said. “Your friends both demanded to go as well.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Even Kent?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Berringer was quite insistent. Apparently you all want to be in on the endgame.”
“We do,” I said. “I think we earned it.”
“Your friends said that as well.”
The president looked to Granger and said, “They earned it.”
“But Mr. President—”
“They earned it,” Neff said, forcefully.
Granger softened and said, “Yes, they have.”
“Good luck, Tucker,” the president said. “Find your mother. Oh, and maybe save the rest of the world while you’re at it.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
The president of the United States stood up straight, looked Granger square in the eye, and said, “Now go take those bastards apart.”
It was high noon.
Showdown time once again.
Six hours before the boom.
TWENTY-ONE
Decisions.
I can’t begin to count the number of tough choices we had to make since the war began. (Yes, I can officially call it a war now.) Some of them were no-brainers, but most times it was maddeningly difficult to know the right way to go. If there’s anything I’d learned since our world changed it’s that life is not a series of black-and-white choices. There’s usually a whole lot of gray area that has to be navigated. I’d tried to make decisions using both my head and my heart. That usually led down a path that at least seemed right.
As we prepared to make our final trip to the Mojave Desert, we were faced with another difficult decision. In this case, my heart had to battle with my head to tell me the right way to go.
“Ten minutes,” the SYLO aide said to Tori, Kent, and me as he led us across a dusty field toward a large wooden building that looked as though it had been built in a hurry. The raw wood siding hadn’t even been painted.
SYLO soldiers hurried all around us, scrambling to get to their stations. The camp had come alive with activity. There was a definite sense of excitement and tension. I guess that’s what happens when you’re preparing to go into battle.
The aide stopped at the door and said, “Be ready in ten or we’re going without you.”
“I’m ready now,” Kent said, boldly.
The aide gave us a quick once-over and said, “Not dressed like that you’re not.”
He had a point. I was still wearing the orange prison jumpsuit while Kent and Tori had on the uniform of the enemy, the future United States Air Force.
“So what do we wear?” Tori asked.
The aide answered by opening the door and gesturing for us to go inside.
Strike Page 26