SYLO (THE SYLO CHRONICLES) (26 page)

“I’ll get us out of the cove before heading north.” She looked at me and added, “Don’t want to run aground.”

It was a dig over what I had done with the Willards’ boat a few months before, but I didn’t call her on it.

She kept the running lights off and the engine throttled down. I wanted to lean forward and jam both throttles to the max to pile on the speed and get away from there, but knew that could be a fatal mistake. The whole plan was to move as quietly as possible and slip under their radar—perhaps literally.

The cove was on the western shore of Pemberwick, the side that faced the mainland. That was huge. If we had had to circumvent the island, we would have certainly run into one of the Navy ships. As it was, we only had to travel a straight line. It was five miles from shore to shore.

Five really long miles.

Tori spun the chrome wheel, turning us to starboard and on to a northbound course that would run us parallel to shore. I would have preferred that we just kept going west, but the whole point
was to put some distance between Quinn and us. We’d be headed west soon enough. At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

The sea was calm, as predicted. At least seasickness wouldn’t be an issue, unlike the last time I had been out on the ocean when we traveled by ferry to my ass-kicking at Greely High.

I looked west to see the hazy outline of the mainland. It seemed much closer than five miles but that’s how it worked over the water. Distances always appeared smaller than they actually were. It was far enough away that I couldn’t make out any lights. The area where we would land was fairly remote anyway. It wasn’t like Portland was right there. Once we hit land, we’d have to find our way to the city. It was a problem I hoped we’d get the chance to face.

“Enough,” Tori announced. “Let’s get outta here.”

She was as anxious as I was. We hadn’t been traveling north for anywhere near five minutes but I didn’t complain. The longer we stayed near Pemberwick, the better the chance of being spotted from shore. Tori spun the wheel and we turned again, back on our original heading, due west. The island was behind us, the mainland ahead. I wondered if I would be able to hold my breath for the entire five miles.

“You see anything?” Tori asked, as if I would have kept it to myself if I had.

“Nothing,” I replied.

I kept moving my gaze from side to side, scanning up and down the coast for any signs of a Navy vessel. I didn’t think they’d be hard to spot. They had no reason to be out there with their running lights off, like us. At one point I thought I saw a single light bobbing far north of us, but couldn’t tell for sure if it was a ship, or a
star reflecting in the water. I chose not to sound the alarm, not that we could have done anything about it, anyway.

“I don’t see Quinn either,” I said as I gazed south.

“Good,” Tori replied. “That means nobody else can either.”

We traveled in silence for several minutes. It was excruciating. I kept expecting to hear the shrill whine of a missile that was headed our way, or the bright floodlights from a Navy destroyer that had spotted us. Instead, there was nothing but the low, steady growl of the twin diesels and the lapping of the dark sea against our hull.

I stood right next to Tori and whispered, “Are we there yet?”

It was a joke. She didn’t find it funny.

“We’ve gone about a mile,” she whispered back.

We were both whispering for fear that the sound of our voices would carry over the water.

“A mile is good,” I whispered. “Two miles would be better.”

Pemberwick was shrinking behind us. I wondered how tight the naval blockade was. They had to be fairly close in order to spot any boats trying to leave. It wouldn’t make sense for them to hang too far back. That would only increase the area they had to monitor. My spirits started to rise. Was it possible? Could we have done it?

I stared south, trying to spot Quinn, but there wasn’t enough light. Again, that was good news. Visibility was low. By complete dumb luck we may have taken off on the perfect night. I fought the urge to grab the walkie-talkie and call him.

“What’s that?” Tori asked, listening.

I didn’t hear anything but the engines.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“Listen,” she commanded.

I did—and immediately heard it. An alien sound cut through the rumbling of the diesels. It was a sound I’d heard before. It sent a chill up my spine.

Tori said, “It sounds like—”

“Music,” I said, finishing her thought.

I instantly looked skyward.

“I’ve heard that before,” she declared.

I held my hand up to quiet her. It was the same sound we had heard on the bluffs the night the shadow exploded. It was a single, sustained note that could have been coming from some celestial instrument.

Only this time I sensed a slight difference.

“There’s more than one,” I declared.

The single voice was joined by another. And another. It was like a heavenly orchestra, with each instrument playing different notes that slowly grew louder…as if they were coming closer.

“Kill the engine,” I demanded.

Tori reacted quickly and shut down both engines. With nothing but the sounds of the open ocean to compete, the musical notes became more distinct. I scanned the sky but saw only stars.

“Is it the same thing?” Tori asked.

“Sure sounds like it.”

Tori ran to the stern and gazed out over the water.

“I don’t see anything at water level,” she declared.

The notes grew louder. I couldn’t tell how many were joining in. Five? Ten? A hundred? There was nothing threatening about them, except for the fact that they existed at all—and that they were growing closer.

“Maybe it’s the SYLO navy,” Tori offered.

“There they are!”

I exclaimed, pointing to the sky.

It was the same as before. A single shadow sailed high above, headed west. When it passed over us, the sustained note reached a peak and then dissipated as it moved west toward the mainland.

“So it wasn’t a boat,” Tori said, spellbound.

“And it’s not alone,” I added.

Another shadow sailed overhead, followed by another. The only time we could see them was when they blotted out the light from the stars as they crossed over us.

“Are they giant bats?” Tori asked.

“Giant musical exploding bats?” I replied skeptically. “That carry cargo?”

All of them were the same size and shape, like stingrays with no tails. They each traveled in a straight line with no obvious mechanical movement or engine sound to reveal how they were staying aloft. It was hard to tell how big they were because I couldn’t judge their altitude. If they were close, then they weren’t big at all. They could have been the size of dinner plates. But if they were far away and high in the sky, they were massive. I couldn’t judge their thickness either. All we could see in the dark were two-dimensional black shapes—shapes that floated by while playing musical notes.

“Are we hearing their engines?” I asked. “Is that what’s making the music?”

“I don’t know, but there are hundreds of them,” Tori said in awe.

A crackling voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Are you seeing this?”

It was Quinn. I grabbed the device and squeezed the talk button.

“Yes. Just like the other night,” I said.

“Maybe they’re angels,” Quinn responded.

I looked to Tori. She frowned.

“Be serious,” I called back. “And keep the air clear. We don’t want to be tracked.”

“I guess it could be SYLO,” Tori said. “Maybe they’re some kind of reconnaissance drones.”

“Then they’re not looking for us,” I announced. “Or they suck.”

Tori said, “But if they’re SYLO, it raises another scary possibility.”

“What’s that?”

“The explosion, the wreckage, and the Ruby. Does that mean SYLO was bringing the Ruby to Pemberwick Island?”

I snapped a quick look to her. “I don’t want to even think of that possibility.”

She shrugged. “Just sayin’. If they’re military, then they might really be from SYLO. And if the thing that exploded was full of the Ruby…”

She let her voice trail off.

Quinn called, “That’s the last of ’em.”

The sky was clear again, with nothing but twinkling stars shining down on us, unobstructed.

Quinn continued, “Let’s keep on going and—whoa, look!”

Without seeing where he was looking, I had no idea what he was talking about.

Tori did. She pointed toward the mainland.

“There,” she declared.

The sky over the mainland was lighting up, backlighting the contour of the horizon. It was a spectacular light show that stretched to either side but seemed concentrated over the area near Portland. There was no sound, only light. The colors were brilliant, as if a rainbow was erupting in the sky that was even more dramatic than the explosion we had seen weeks before. It looked like the aurora borealis had descended on the coast of Maine.

“Is there some holiday light show happening in Portland?” Quinn called over the walkie.

I keyed the talk switch but didn’t say a word. I couldn’t think of any.

The stunning lights silhouetted the swarm of black shadows that flew toward shore. There were too many to count. They flew together, as if—

“It’s a formation,” Tori said with a gasp. “They’re coordinated. Are they creating those lights?”

I had no answer. We floated there, watching the light show for several minutes. Unlike my earlier sighting of the mysterious shadow, there were no flashes of light that came from the ocean. The impossible display had momentarily made us forget our own dire situation…until reality came flooding back.

“I got trouble,” Quinn announced over the walkie.

“What?” I called.

“I killed the engines so I could hear the shadows and now I can’t start ’em up again. I think maybe they’re flooded.”

I looked at Tori and said, “We gotta get out of here. If we’re seeing this, so is the Navy, and they might come to investigate.”

“Damn,” Tori snarled and grabbed the walkie to talk to Quinn. “You may have a gas fume buildup. Put the throttles in neutral and run the electric bilge blower. It’s the silver toggle to the right of the ignition. Do you see it?”

We waited. I couldn’t take my eyes off the mainland and the spectacular light show.

“Quinn?” she called.

“I got it,” he replied. “The blower’s working. How long will this take?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes. Be patient. When you crank it, don’t do it for any more than ten seconds or you’ll flood it again.”

“Understood,” was Quinn’s response. “What the hell is going on over there?”

The light show not only continued, it grew more dramatic, rising high into the sky and blotting out the stars above Portland.

“What about
us
?” I asked, nodding toward the throttles.

Tori cranked the ignition and the engine fired. The second started just as easily.

“Maybe we should go get Quinn,” she said.

I kept staring at the mainland as if hypnotized by the display. I don’t know how long we floated there. Minutes? Many minutes?

“Tucker? Are we going after Quinn?”

A shrieking sound tore through the sky. There was nothing musical about it. The sound was so painfully deafening that we had to cover our ears. We both fell to the deck and dared to look up to the sky to see…

“Fighters,” I cried.

Four fighter planes, also silhouetted against the stars but much
more recognizable as military aircraft, tore over us, headed in the same direction as the shadows. They traveled in formation for several more seconds, then broke apart. One went left, another right. The two in the middle stayed the course, headed straight for the shadows. We could see them easily because of the backdrop of flashing lights over the mainland.

“What the hell is going on?” was all I could say.

My answer came quickly. The fighter jets opened fire on the shadows.

“It’s a dogfight!” Tori screamed.

The fighter jets started launching missiles that blasted from beneath their wings and tore into the formation of shadows. Several were hit and exploded in the air, erupting into spectacular fireballs similar to the one we had seen near Tori’s house. Some splashed into the ocean; others crashed and erupted on land.

Another four fighter jets arrived and bore into the fight. They swooped in and out in an aerial ballet that would have been fascinating to watch if it had been some CGI movie.

When the fighter jets arrived, we got more of a perspective on the shadows. They weren’t dinner-sized plates at all. They were nearly as large as the fighter planes—plenty big enough to be carrying a pilot or two. Or a load of the Ruby.

I grabbed the walkie and yelled to Quinn, “We gotta go. Crank the engine again.”

We waited, glued to the aerial battle that was playing out over Portland, Maine.

“No good,” Quinn called back. “It’s starting to smoke and—no! I’ve got a fire!”

Tori grabbed the walkie and shouted, “There’s an extinguisher aft of the wheelhouse.”

I was torn between worrying about Quinn and the impossible air war. As we floated halfway between Pemberwick Island and the mainland, we had no idea who was attacking and who was defending or who was who, for that matter. The fighters were all about taking out the shadow craft, but there was no way to know
what
the strange shadows were or what they were doing. After what we’d seen from the military on Pemberwick, I wasn’t so sure who were the good guys and who were the bad guys.

Up until that moment, the shadow craft were being shot out of the sky without putting up a fight.

That didn’t last.

A laser-like white light streaked from three of the shadow craft at the exact same moment. All were focused on a fighter. The three lights hit the jet—and the plane vanished.

There was no explosion. No flash of light. No fire. No sound. The plane glowed for an instant and disappeared.

I fell to my knees on the deck, realizing that I had just once again witnessed death…along with a deadly technology unlike anything I had ever heard of.