Storm

by D. J. MacHale

  “No idea.”

  The pilot had set us down in the middle of a nest of idle planes. The survivors may have disabled hundreds of them, but that had barely dented the fleet.

  I picked up the pace, but it was hard for Tori to move any faster.

  Retro fighters hovered over the giant plane like vultures.

  “How much time?” she asked.

  “One minute.”

  I glanced back at Feit.

  He stared after us, looking confused. He sensed that something was wrong, that he had missed something, but he didn’t dare come after us. He knew we’d both shoot him without a second thought.

  We hurried past an endless row of Retro fighters.

  “If the explosion tears into the power plant,” I said, “there’s not going to be much left of that plane.”

  “Or us,” Tori said nervously.

  Headlights appeared in front of us, headed our way. I feared it was a Retro plane coming to life but realized it was too small . . . and too loud.

  Tori lifted the pistol, but I put my hand on hers to push it away.

  “Don’t bother,” I cautioned.

  “We can’t let them recapture us,” Tori cried.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about that,” I said. “Retros don’t drive dune buggies.”

  Tori squinted ahead, trying to make out detail as the headlights grew closer.

  “Survivors?” she asked.

  The buggy sped up to us, and for a second I thought it was going to run us down, but the driver flew by and skidded to a stop, spinning the buggy until it faced back the other way.

  “Kent!” Tori exclaimed.

  “Need a lift?” Kent asked.

  I jumped into the seat next to him and pulled Tori down on top of me.

  “Drive!” I demanded.

  “What?”

  “Go!” Tori shouted. “Punch it! Get us out of here!”

  Kent didn’t get it, but he obeyed. He jammed his foot down on the gas and launched us on our way.

  I looked back to see that Feit was watching. He took a dazed step toward us. I could sense the wheels turning in his head, calculating the facts. He knew something was wrong. Suddenly, he spun around and ran back up the ramp. The pilot was right behind him.

  I heard Feit scream at the pilot, “Get us out of here!”

  “What’s going on?” Kent yelled above the whine of the engine.

  “Shut up and drive,” Tori yelled.

  Twenty seconds.

  The giant plane’s ramp retracted. Fifteen seconds.

  The craft shuddered and rose a few feet into the air as the tripod retracted.

  Ten seconds.

  We reached the end of the line of Retro fighters and charged on into the desert.

  “This better be good,” Tori said.

  Five . . .

  The first charge blew out the side of the plane. It was the charge that Tori had placed on the silver weapon.

  Kent looked back. “What the—”

  “Don’t stop!” I shouted.

  The massive plane listed to the side. Its wing dipped and hit the tarmac.

  The hovering Retro jets backed off.

  The plane was about to crash. That’s when the second charge went off. The charge that I had attached to the engine. The impossible, singing engine that could generate so much power.

  The explosion was far greater than what the C-4 was capable of. Whatever fueled that incredible engine, it was volatile. The C-4 was nothing more than a detonator. The result was as close to a nuclear explosion as I ever wanted to experience.

  The plane erupted in a massive fireball of white light.

  “Jeez!” Kent screamed.

  The burning light was charged with its own power. As it spread, it engulfed the Retro planes that had been hovering above, causing them to explode, list, and fall to the ground. As each hit, it created its own violent eruption.

  More explosions followed, joining together into a massive cloud of burning material that spread across the tarmac toward the idle fighters.

  It was a domino effect. The expanding incendiary cloud engulfed each plane in turn, igniting their individual power sources along the way. It caused the destructive fireball to grow even larger and move faster. It tore across the ground, eating up the planes like a molten tsunami . . .

  . . . that was headed our way.

  A single fireball blasted into the sky from the center of the inferno. But rather than explode, it continued on into the air until its flame was extinguished. Or it disappeared. I couldn’t tell which. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a dark shadow emerge from the flame and fly off. It didn’t look like shrapnel.

  “It’s getting hot,” Kent yelled.

  The heat at our back was becoming unbearable. We couldn’t outrun the monstrous fireball. If it continued to expand, we’d be incinerated.

  Kent gripped the wheel and kept the pedal to the floor.

  The burning cloud had reached the outer ring of planes. Multiple explosions erupted, expanding the cloud into the desert.

  Tori hugged me close and gripped Kent’s leg.

  “We did it,” I said calmly.

  I wanted that to be our last thought. We did it. We had destroyed the Retro fleet. The entire fleet.

  We had our revenge.

  The wall of fire ate up the ground behind us, looking for more fuel to feed on. But there was no more to be had. The flames rose into the sky in one last gasp and burned out.

  “Whooo!” Kent screamed—but he didn’t let up on the gas.

  Tori laughed. There was nothing funny; it was all about relief. She pulled me close and planted a solid kiss on my cheek.

  “We sure as hell did,” she said in triumph.

  Kent finally slowed down and turned the buggy around so we could look back on the base, or what was left of it. The powerful fireball was gone, but in its wake it left a base that was ablaze. All of the hangar buildings were burning, lighting up the desert night. The fires silhouetted the thousands of burning wrecks of Retro fighters. I would have been surprised if any of them had been spared.

  It was total annihilation.

  “What the hell did you do?” Kent asked, stunned.

  “I guess we put the charge in the exact right spot. Yikes.”

  I looked at Tori and laughed.

  “‘Yikes’ is a good word,” she said.

  We watched as the multiple fires wiped out whatever was left of Area 51 and the Retro fleet.

  I gave Tori a squeeze and said, “Now it feels great.”

  Tori turned to look at Kent. “You came back.”

  Kent didn’t respond at first. I couldn’t tell whether he was searching for a snide comeback or fighting back the urge to kill me. It turned out that he was trying to find the right words . . . to tell the truth.

  “I saw you guys get on that plane, and then when the ramp closed—” His voice cracked as he fought to keep from crying. “And then it took off. Jeez. You were both . . . gone. Just like that. I didn’t know what to do. I guess it made me realize that I was on my own. It wasn’t a good feeling, you know?”

  “Oh, I know,” Tori said.

  Kent forced a smile and said, “But then the plane came back. It came back! I had to see if you were on it. If you were okay. What else could I do? Like you said, Tucker: We’re all we’ve got.”

  That was the first time I actually liked Kent Berringer.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Tori gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Where’s Olivia?” she asked.

  I was glad she asked. I wasn’t going to risk it.

  “A few other survivors showed up once the shooting started. They took her.” He looked right at me and added, “She shouldn’t have come here.”

  I didn’t want to tell him I suspected Olivia of being a Retro infiltrator. What was the point? She was dead. We would never know one way or the other. The time would come when we could talk about it, but it wasn’t then.r />
  “I know,” was all I said.

  We sat in silence for a few moments.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Kent said as he gazed at the smoldering ruins of Area 51. “We are seriously badass.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Tori laughed too. It was a moment of pure joy and relief.

  Victory had never been sweeter.

  But the celebration ended quickly.

  Kent’s eyes caught something and went wide. “Uh-oh,” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Tori asked with surprise.

  “We’re not alone.”

  He pointed to the dark sky above the rise that surrounded the dry lake bed. There was a light. A moving light. Something was in the air and headed our way.

  THIRTY

  “What do we do?” Kent asked nervously.

  We all watched with worry as the light flew closer. The telltale sound of the Retro planes wasn’t there. Instead, we heard the sound of a conventional engine.

  “It’s the helicopter,” Tori declared.

  “With its lights on,” Kent added. “Now that we did all the dirty work, they’re not afraid to show themselves.”

  “What do we do?” Tori asked.

  “I’m tired of running,” I said. “If you guys want to take off, go.”

  Nobody moved. They were as tired and as curious as I was.

  Soon the dark silhouette of the helicopter sailed over us. It looked to be a military chopper like the kind SYLO used to drop commandos on Pemberwick Island. It circled around and touched down thirty yards from us, kicking up dust. As soon as it landed, the engines were killed, and the rotors slowed.

  “Now what?” Kent asked.

  “Whoever it is, I want to face them,” I declared.

  “Then let’s go,” Tori said.

  I helped her out of the buggy.

  “What?” Kent exclaimed. “You got shot again?”

  “It’s what I do,” Tori replied with a shrug.

  Kent came around to her other side, and she draped her arms over both of our shoulders to keep weight off of her injured leg. Without another word, we approached the craft. The only sound coming from it was the ticking of its cooling engine. The three of us walked to within a few yards of the slowing rotor and stopped.

  The helicopter had the markings of the United States Navy.

  “SYLO,” I said.

  A light shone from within, and the side door slid open. A soldier wearing red fatigues stepped out carrying a powerful flashlight. He was in silhouette, so it was hard to see who he was.

  “If it ends here,” I said to the others, “we have to know we did everything we could.”

  We all tightened our hold on each other, for whatever support it would offer.

  The soldier strode toward us. He was a tall guy who had the bearing of a disciplined military man. I knew who it was. I didn’t need to see his face.

  “Granger,” I muttered.

  “No way,” Kent gasped.

  Captain Granger marched up and stood facing us.

  “Is anyone injured?” he asked, all business.

  “I took a bullet in the leg,” Tori replied.

  She lifted her leg to show how blood had soaked the entire upper portion of her jeans.

  “We’ll take care of you,” he said. “What exactly happened here?”

  “We destroyed the Retro fleet,” I said matter-of-factly. “What does it look like?”

  Granger looked toward the burning rubble . . . and chuckled. He actually chuckled.

  None of us knew how to react to that.

  “Incredible,” he finally said. “Absolutely incredible.”

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “We’ve got an ark on Catalina Island,” he replied. “We’ll take you there.”

  “Aren’t you worried that we might be Retros?” I asked.

  “Not after this,” he answered.

  “He thinks we’re Retros?” Kent asked, incredulous. “That’s nuts.”

  “I’m not going with you,” I said to Granger.

  “Whoa, you’re not?” Kent asked, surprised. “I don’t like these guys any more than you do, but what else can we do?”

  “You go, Kent,” I said. “Tori, you should too. I don’t want any part of them.”

  “I’m not going without you,” Tori declared. “We’re not splitting up now.”

  Kent was torn. He looked at Tori and me, hunting for a clue to help him decide what to do.

  “If we don’t go,” he asked Granger, “will you shoot us?”

  “No,” was Granger’s simple answer.

  “Then I’ll stay with my friends. Jeez, I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “I appreciate your reluctance,” Granger said. “There’s so much you don’t understand.”

  “Then why don’t you explain it to us?” I said. “Start by telling us what you’re doing here.”

  “We were observing your operation from the air,” he said. “The Retros aren’t the only ones with infiltration capabilities. We’ve been inside the group in Las Vegas from day one.”

  Another soldier jumped from the plane. He was a stocky guy who was as wide as Granger was tall. I knew who he was too.

  “Cutter,” Tori declared.

  The Special Ops marine approached and stood next to Granger. It suddenly became clear how Cutter was able to come up with all of those explosive charges.

  “I stand by what I said,” Cutter announced. “It’s an honor to serve with you guys.”

  “You used those people,” I said to Cutter. “You had them do your dirty work.”

  “This is war, son,” Cutter replied. “We don’t have the same firepower as the Retros. We’ve had some success with large-scale operations, like the one at Fenway, but eventually they’ll wear us down. It’s inevitable. Our only hope has been to incorporate less conventional methods. The survivors who gathered in Las Vegas weren’t coerced. They did exactly what they wanted to do. We just gave them some help.”

  “Just one question,” Kent said. “Are you the good guys?”

  Cutter chuckled. Granger didn’t.

  “Yeah,” Cutter said. “I’d like to think we are.”

  “That wasn’t a solid yes,” I pointed out.

  Granger said, “Then maybe someone else can convince you.”

  He turned to the chopper and made a motion for someone to join us.

  Another person stepped out of the helicopter, a smaller person who didn’t appear to be a soldier. It looked like a woman. She approached tentatively.

  “If you don’t want to take my advice,” Granger said, “you should really start taking hers.”

  “Tucker?” the woman called.

  My knees buckled.

  It was my mother.

  She ran to me and threw her arms around me. She was crying. Once I got over the shock, I cried too. The last time I had seen her was from the opposite side of a prison fence on Pemberwick Island. So many conflicting emotions were hammering at me, but the bottom line was that I suddenly felt like myself again: a fourteen-year-old kid. We hugged for a good long time as I did my best to pretend that everything was going to be okay.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she cried. “Then I got word you all were out here and . . . I had to come. I’m so sorry, Tucker. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

  That brought me back to reality.

  “Really?” I asked, pulling away. “How was it supposed to happen?”

  “We wanted to protect you,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That’s all it was ever about.”

  “Yeah, well, it didn’t work out that way, did it?”

  She shook her head.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked.

  “Still on Pemberwick. He’s fine. Your mother is too, Kent. They’re safe.”

  She looked at Tori but had no comforting words for her.

  “I’m so sorry about your father.”

 
Tori shot a steely look at Granger.

  “How do you feel about that, Captain?” she asked coldly.

  Granger stiffened. “It’s a tragedy when innocent civilians become victims of war. Make no mistake: We are at war, and I am deeply sorry for your father’s death and for whatever role I played in that.”

  “What about all the other innocent civilians you killed?” she asked. “Are you sorry about them too?”

  “No, because they weren’t innocent,” Granger replied. “My mission was to root out the Retro infiltrators on Pemberwick Island in order to protect the remaining population. I have no regrets about that. Your father was being used by them, Miss Sleeper, as were several of his friends. I’m sorry to have to say that, because he was fighting for what he thought was a noble cause. You should be proud of him.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Tori said bitterly.

  “You sorry for trying to kill us too?” Kent asked accusingly. “If we hadn’t gotten away from you, the Retros would still be in business.”

  “They are still very much in business, young man,” Granger said coldly.

  “They are?” Kent said, sounding less cocky.

  “Please come with us,” Mom said. “I know you have trouble believing me after all you’ve been through, and I don’t know how else to say it, but we really are the good guys.”

  I glanced at Tori and Kent. They looked as confused as I felt.

  “You told me not to trust anybody,” I said to my mom. “Turned out to be good advice. But you haven’t been telling me the truth for a long time. Why should I put my trust in you?”

  My mother winced, as if the words stung her. I didn’t mean to hurt her, but it was how I felt.

  “Because your father and I have been working with SYLO for a very long time, and we know that they are our only hope for the future. And because I’m your mother.”

  I wanted to believe her, maybe more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

  “You kids have seen a lot,” Granger added. “More than most. You know what we’re up against.”

  “But we just blew away the entire Air Force,” Kent argued with a hint of desperation. “It’s over, right?”

  “This was an impressive operation,” Cutter said. “There’s no denying that. But wars aren’t determined by a single battle. The Retros aren’t done. Not even close.”