Storm

by D. J. MacHale

  “You stay here and you die!” she shouted.

  I’d never heard her so commanding. I guess fear will do that.

  A hand reached up from under the table and grabbed hers. Olivia pulled a dazed Kent to his feet. He nodded and went with her.

  A second later another energy surge hit—directly on the table Kent had been hiding beneath. It exploded the table into kindling, sending sharp slivers of wood and a bloom of colorful casino chips flying everywhere. Olivia had just saved Kent’s life.

  I saw Charlotte take cover behind a bar. As soon as she disappeared behind it, she screamed.

  I ran for her, with Tori right behind me. After a pained scream like that, I figured she must have twisted her ankle or slammed into something sharp. I made it to the bar, circled around behind, and saw that she wasn’t hurt. At least not physically.

  She was kneeling over somebody. A guy. He wasn’t moving.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, sounding as though she was trying to hold back her emotions.

  “How?” Tori asked. “Did something hit him?”

  Charlotte shook her head. She had tears in her eyes. At first I thought they were tears of sorrow, and they were. But they were just as much a show of her building rage.

  “He was murdered,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  Another bomb flew through the hole in the ceiling, blasting a hole in the floor that sent an avalanche of rubble into the next level down. It was far enough away that we barely paid attention.

  “I’m a sheriff,” she said. “I’ve seen plenty of murder scenes. But it doesn’t take a crack detective to see what happened here.”

  She rolled his head to the side, where I saw the telltale gaping red hole that was a bullet wound, square in the middle of his forehead.

  “His name was Tom,” Charlotte explained. “He was my best friend here, I guess because he was a sheriff too. From LA County. We had plenty of stories to share.”

  She seemed dazed, in shock from what had happened to her friend.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I said. “But we gotta get outta here.”

  Several more energy bombs hit, turning the once opulent casino into a junkyard.

  “This is just . . . wrong,” she said, sounding numb. “Why would somebody shoot him? We’re all survivors here.”

  “Find the others,” Tori said. “I’ll get her to the cashier’s window.”

  I crouched low and ran to the far side of the bar, where I could scan the wreckage of the casino.

  “Olivia? Kent?”

  No answer.

  Through the haze I spotted the word “Cashier” on a wall over a long window with security bars. That was our target. I took off running while looking around for the others. When I hit the wall with the cashier’s window, I heard a voice coming from behind it. A familiar voice. I relaxed, knowing that Kent and Olivia had made it. I turned to head back for Tori and Charlotte and heard the voice again.

  It wasn’t Kent’s.

  It was Jon’s.

  “No, end it now,” he commanded. “You were supposed to wait for nightfall. Destroying empty buildings is useless. This will only force them to crawl deeper.”

  What?

  I slid closer, listening intently, trying to understand what he was saying.

  “It’s too late, you idiots, the rats have already gone underground,” he said to . . . someone. He sounded angry, which wasn’t like Jon at all. There was a sense of authority in his voice that I’d never heard before. It brought me back to the night in Ohio when I heard him talking to somebody from behind the closed door of the radio room. But the radio wasn’t working. He told me he was talking to himself.

  “Stop the attack,” he ordered. “I will not take responsibility for this.”

  A few seconds later, the bombardment stopped. There was no more distant thunder. Was it a coincidence? The immediate danger seemed to be over, but the reality of a new danger was right in front of me. Part of me wanted to run, but I was tired of running.

  I opened the door that led into the cashier’s room.

  Jon was huddled on the floor under the counter, speaking into a small black device.

  He hadn’t been talking to himself.

  When he saw me, there was a frozen moment when neither of us knew what to do. He then jumped to his feet and jammed the device into his pocket.

  “Tucker!” he called out with a more familiar, vulnerable voice. “Are you okay? Where is everybody? I heard this was the way down to safety, but I only got this far when the bombs started falling and—”

  “Shut up, Jon,” I commanded.

  That was all I needed to say. Jon knew I had heard his conversation. He stood up straight. That one small move made him look like a different person. He was always someone who blended into the woodwork. Someone who didn’t stand out. A real meek geek. Not anymore.

  “I like you, Tucker,” he said, once again sounding like the confident guy who had been barking orders into his phone or whatever it was. “I was hoping you guys would make it through this.”

  “What’s the deal, Jon?” I asked. “Were you always with them? Or did somebody get to you and force you to join?”

  “It was my mission,” he said with a shrug. “I guess you’d call it cleanup duty. We’re everywhere, you know.”

  “Like termites,” I said aloud, thinking back to Granger’s words.

  “Termites?” Jon asked.

  “You’re a traitor,” I said, seething.

  “No, I’m actually very loyal. What I am is an infiltrator.”

  My anger took control. I made a move for him but . . .

  Jon pulled out Tori’s gun and leveled it at me.

  I stopped short.

  “You’re the one who killed him,” I said. “Charlotte’s friend.”

  “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” Jon explained, as if it was a justifiable excuse for murder. “I had to complete my mission. Besides, what’s one more death?”

  My anger flared.

  “It’s not just one more death,” I growled. “It’s a life. A person with a past and a family and now . . . no future.”

  “Just as well,” Jon said casually. “He probably wouldn’t have liked his future anyway.”

  Without thinking, I grabbed a snow globe that was on the desk and whipped it at him.

  It surprised him, and he flinched, giving me enough time to attack. I grabbed his gun hand and wrestled him for the weapon. I’m not a fighter, but I was driven by rage. We had trusted Jon. Taken him in. Taken care of him while he was betraying us at every turn.

  It wasn’t a contest. I twisted the gun out of his hand and nailed him in the face with my elbow. Jon grunted in pain. I hit him again with my fist, using all of the pent-up frustration and anger that I’d been holding in since day one. So many images flew through my mind. Quinn’s death, Granger shooting an unarmed civilian, my mother crying on the far side of the prison-camp fence, the burning skeleton of a pilot in his crashed plane, the dying Mr. Sleeper. So many horrors came flooding back, and they all rushed out through my fists.

  “Whoa, easy!” Kent said and pulled me off of Jon.

  Kent had entered the cashier’s room. Olivia stood in the doorway, watching.

  “It’s him!” I declared. “He’s a traitor!”

  Jon scrambled away and got to his feet.

  “He’s crazy!” he cried, sounding like the old Jon. “He just started going nuts on me! He thinks I shot somebody in the head when all I did was hide in here!”

  I spotted Tori’s gun on the floor and went for it.

  Jon went for it too, but I beat him to it. I backed away, aiming the weapon at him, trying to keep my hands steady.

  “Look!” Jon shouted. “He’s lost it! Now he wants to shoot me!”

  “What’s the deal, Tucker?” Kent asked nervously.

  Charlotte and Tori entered the room.

  “Jon�
�s a Retro,” I said with a shaky voice. “He’s been playing us from the get-go. He’s probably been telling them everything we’ve been doing. Even back at Faneuil Hall. Remember? He’s the one who warned Campbell that we were going to escape.”

  “That’s crazy!” Jon cried. “If somebody got shot, it must have been Tucker who did it. He’s the one with the gun.”

  “Charlotte,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and reasonable. “You want to know how the Retros found us here? It was Jon. He called in the air strike. But they attacked too early. He tried to warn them off and had to get away from your friend Tom to do it. That’s why he shot him.”

  “Tucker!” Olivia cried. “How can you say something like that?”

  “You guys know me,” Jon protested. “I’ve been in just as much trouble as you. Just as much danger. Heck, I’m the one who told you about the radio broadcast! Tucker’s just looking for somebody to blame this on.”

  “Check his pocket,” I said. “He’s got some kind of communicator.”

  All eyes went to Jon.

  “Empty your pockets, Chadwick,” Kent said.

  Jon licked his lips nervously. He reached for his pocket.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” he said. “If there’s something in here, then Tucker planted it, and I’m not gonna—”

  Jon rushed me. I was so surprised that I didn’t have time to shoot. He knocked me back and went for the door, but it was futile. Kent’s instincts took over, and he tackled him as Charlotte pounced. There was a short scuffle before she was able to grab Jon’s arm and twist it behind his back. The linebacker and the sheriff had done the job.

  While keeping his arm twisted with one hand, Charlotte used her other hand to dig into Jon’s pocket. She pulled out a small black device that was no bigger than an iPod shuffle and held it in front of Jon’s face.

  “What is this?” she demanded to know.

  She was being professional, but her anger was bubbling close to the surface.

  “I have no idea,” Jon replied. “Tucker must have put it there.”

  “He was talking into that when I found him,” I said. “He was telling somebody to call off the attack because everyone had already taken cover. He said they were supposed to wait for nightfall.”

  Charlotte gave me a worried look.

  “That’s what he said? They were supposed to wait for nightfall?”

  “Yes. They’ll be back. Tonight, when those light weapons can wipe out this whole city. There won’t be anywhere to hide, not since they know so many people are here. They’ll evaporate the buildings until they root us out.”

  Charlotte nodded gravely. She twisted Jon’s arm.

  “Where did you get the gun?” she demanded.

  “It’s mine,” Tori said. “I dropped it in the car when we were shot in the Valley of Fire.”

  “So then where did you get it?” Charlotte insisted, twisting Jon’s arm further.

  He winced but didn’t complain.

  “Once I passed your silly interrogation, I had your friend take me to our vehicle,” Jon said through gritted teeth. “What was his name? Tom? I told him I had to get my medicine. That it was a matter of life and death. I wasn’t lying. It was a matter of life and death. Tom’s.”

  He gave Charlotte a twisted smile.

  Charlotte wrenched his arm so violently I thought it would break.

  Jon finally broke down and howled with pain.

  “What do we do with him?” I asked.

  Charlotte stood and pulled Jon to his feet. She held one of his arms behind his back while Kent held the other.

  “There’s a holding cell down the hall,” she answered. “It’s where security puts cheats and drunks until the authorities arrive. We can keep him there and call the Chiefs in.”

  Olivia stood in front of Jon. She looked at him like a hurt little girl.

  “So it’s true?” she asked. “You’re one of them? Jon, we could have been killed.”

  Jon started to reply quickly, probably to deny everything. But he stopped himself. Once again, he stood up straight and his personality changed. He gave us all a small, superior smile.

  “You’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet,” he said with smug confidence.

  Olivia hauled off and slapped him across the face. Jon’s head snapped to the side, but he didn’t react or whimper.

  “Feel better now?” he asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “It won’t last.”

  “Come on,” Charlotte said. “Through that door.”

  I jumped ahead and opened the door so Charlotte and Kent could lead Jon through.

  “Flashlights,” Charlotte said.

  There were a few emergency flashlights fixed to the wall. Olivia and I each grabbed one.

  “Here,” I said, handing the gun to Tori.

  She took it and jammed it into her waistband.

  We were in a plain hallway, which was a huge contrast to the extravagant casino we had just left. We had only walked a few yards when Charlotte stopped in front of a door.

  “In here,” she ordered.

  I opened the door to what was probably a security office. There were a few desks still covered with papers, as if whoever worked there had just stepped out for lunch. Charlotte led us down a short hallway and turned into an open door, beyond which was the barred cell used by the casino’s security force.

  Charlotte and Kent shoved Jon inside, then Charlotte quickly slid the bars closed. She pulled a ring loaded with keys from her pocket and used one to lock the cell door. Old sheriff habits die hard.

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “For bringing him here. We had no idea.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Charlotte said. “We should have smelled him coming. That was my job, and I let him through.”

  “I can’t believe he just . . . turned on us,” Olivia said, sounding dazed.

  “He didn’t turn,” I corrected. “He was never with us. Think about it. He turned us in to Chris Campbell when we tried to escape from Faneuil Hall. He was the one who got us to come to Nevada. He told us all about the radio broadcasts and pushed us to find the survivors.”

  “But he wanted to blow off Nevada and go to Kentucky,” Tori said.

  “Sure! He wanted to know what that was about too! When we were in Ohio, I heard him talking on the radio, but the radio wasn’t working. He was probably using that little communicator to tell the Retros that something was happening in Kentucky. I’ll bet he called in the air strike there. No, Jon didn’t turn. He was using us from the get-go.”

  “Got it all figured out, do you?” Jon asked, snickering.

  “Shut up, or I’ll come in there and shut you up,” Kent snarled.

  “Sure, come on in, Kent. I’d love for you to try to teach me a lesson.”

  Jon sounded odd. His breathing was heavy, and his voice was raised.

  Kent made a move for the cell.

  “Don’t,” Charlotte warned him.

  He stopped.

  Jon wrapped his fingers around the bars.

  “I’ll probably get a medal for this,” he said, panting. “We knew there would be pockets of resistance. That’s why so many of us are out there.”

  “I said shut up!” Kent shouted angrily.

  “No, let him talk,” I said. “How many are out there, Jon?”

  “More than you can imagine,” he said breathlessly. “We’re everywhere. Hiding with you in your wasted cities. Listening in on your pitiful plans. Rooting out nests of pathetic survivors. But this here . . . this was a very big prize. We expected there to be retaliation in Nevada but never like this. Not right under our noses. I’m the one who first heard the broadcast, you know. We sent a few people to investigate, but nobody broke through . . . until me. I may have saved the whole mission.”

  “Who are you?” I asked. “Why are you fighting SYLO?”

  “SYLO,” Jon said with disdain
. “The guard dogs of a dying society. They’re nothing more than a nuisance. The mission will be completed.”

  Tori and I exchanged worried looks.

  “What exactly is the mission?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

  Jon wagged his finger at me and smiled slyly.

  “You think you want to know, but trust me, you don’t.”

  “But we do,” Tori insisted. “Impress us.”

  She was playing to Jon’s ego.

  Jon chuckled. “Evolution is about to take a dramatic leap forward. But not just yet. There are still too many of you primates left. Especially in the cities.”

  He was breathing hard, as if telling the tale was exciting him.

  “Primates?” Kent said. “What the hell?”

  “Eradication is more complicated with dense population centers. There are too many deep caves to hide in, and we don’t want to totally decimate the infrastructure. Before we can begin to repopulate, there needs to be another wave. More pointed this time. More city-specific. We’re going back to Moscow and Beijing. London has proved difficult. So has Sydney. New York will feel another bite. Los Angeles is the closest, so it will be the first. Once those cities are cleared, we can begin.”

  “Cleared?” I said soberly. “That’s what you call it? You’re talking about wiping out every last living soul.”

  “Oh no. Not entirely. You primates will serve a purpose. Rebuilding a society will be labor-intensive.”

  “You mean you need slaves,” Tori said with disdain.

  “Call it what you want,” he said dismissively.

  “You think we’re primates?” Kent said, incredulous. “What does that make you?”

  Jon started yanking on the bars of the cell as if trying to pull it apart. It was a sudden and violent move that surprised us all . . .

  . . . and made complete sense.

  “Look at me!” I yelled at him.

  I flashed the light in his face and saw it. The wild eyes. The heavy breathing. I suddenly knew why he was acting so crazy.

  “Where did you get it?” I asked.

  “Get what?” Olivia asked, confused.

  Jon dug into his back pocket, took out an empty baggie, and tossed it through the bars.

  “From the sheriff’s pocket while she was twisting my arm,” he said. “Aren’t I clever?”