Storm Page 3

  It was a lie. The real reason people died was because of a substance called the Ruby that was being distributed by a mysterious stranger named Ken Feit. The Ruby gave people incredible strength and energy. I can say that with authority because I tried it. It was magical . . . unless you took too much. The human body wasn’t built to perform at such a high level. It was absolutely amazing—and ultimately deadly.

  Was that when our home started slipping away?

  Or was it when the SYLO occupiers and their leader, Captain Granger, started pulling people off the street and throwing them into prison? Or when SYLO began killing people for attempting to escape? Maybe it was before that, when the black Air Force planes started secretly delivering the Ruby to Pemberwick. What was the point of that? If they wanted to hurt us, why didn’t they just vaporize us one night like they did the people of Portland? Were we being used as guinea pigs for some hideous experiment?

  I could say that I first felt my home slipping away when Quinn Carr was killed. He was such a huge part of my life until . . . he wasn’t.

  Or maybe I know the exact moment when I realized I no longer had a home. It was when I heard that my mother and father were working with the Navy. With SYLO. They knew SYLO was coming long before we set foot on the island when I was nine years old. They had been keeping the truth from me for a very long time. The people who were supposed to protect me and make our home a home weren’t doing either. I will never forgive them for that . . . if I ever see them again.

  My tragic story is only one of many that developed once SYLO came into our lives.

  Tori’s dad was killed while trying to fight back against the occupation.

  Kent’s father died when he took the Ruby to try to gain the strength to protect their home.

  Olivia was visiting the island from New York City, but her mother was on the mainland when the invasion hit. They may never see each other again because there’s no way to know if she’s dead or alive.

  The details may be different, but the bottom line is the same: We have all lost the familiar base that helped make us who we are. We’re adrift. All we can do is move forward and try to understand the biggest question of all: Why? Why has this happened? Why have so many people been killed? Why are the Navy and the Air Force battling each other, and who should we hope will win? That’s the most confounding question of all. SYLO held us prisoner, and the Air Force tried to poison us. The Navy murdered anyone on Pemberwick who challenged their authority; the Air Force wiped out thousands on the mainland.

  Why? What were they hoping to gain? I can’t imagine anything being worth the pain and destruction that this war has already caused. There has to be a reason for it. Someone must be calling the shots. Someone sent SYLO to destroy my home. My life. When I find out who they are, I’m going to do everything I can to cause them the kind of suffering they brought to my friends, to Pemberwick Island, and to me. Maybe then we can start over and establish a new base. A new history. A new home.

  If there’s any hope of that, we must first search for the truth . . . and hope that what we find won’t be worse than what we’ve already seen.

  “We’ll take the Saab,” Kent said. “It’s butt-ugly, but the tank is full.”

  We had made it safely to a parking lot that was packed with the cars of people who had come to the Old Port for a night of fun and never left. We piled into the ancient burgundy sedan while keeping one eye on the sky. Nobody had to say it, but we all feared that another attack plane would come swooping in. I sat in back with Tori. Olivia rode shotgun.

  “Where’s the hospital?” Kent asked.

  “Head back the way we drove into town,” Tori said. “It’s near the Western Prom.”

  “You say that like I know what you’re talking about,” he said snidely.

  Kent started the engine, put the car into gear, and jammed his foot to the floor, launching us out of the parking lot.

  “Hey, take it easy!” Olivia cried.

  “Easy?” Kent said with a scoff. “Those planes are out hunting. I don’t want to get blown up.”

  “And I don’t want to smash into a light pole,” Olivia chastised sweetly. “C’mon, Kent, I know you can get us there safely.”

  Kent backed off the gas.

  “Sorry,” he said as if he actually meant it.

  Olivia had an almost magical hold over Kent. Maybe it was the way she made it seem like he was always making his own decisions, while in reality she got exactly what she wanted. Or maybe it was because she looked incredible in the same short-shorts that she had been wearing since the night before. Or maybe he genuinely cared about her. Didn’t matter. Kent was a loose cannon, and if he had to be reined in, Olivia was the one to do it.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked Tori.

  “Tired, but okay,” she said.

  I examined the bandage that Olivia had wrapped around her wound while we were on the boat making the run from Pemberwick Island.

  “You’re not bleeding,” I said. “But we have to make sure you don’t get infected.”

  “Yeah,” Kent said. “Wouldn’t want you to go all gangrene and have to cut your arm off.”

  Nobody reacted.

  “Jeez, I’m kidding!” he complained.

  Nobody reacted.

  “Fine, I’ll shut up and drive.”

  “Does it hurt much?” I asked Tori.

  She didn’t answer, which was all the answer I needed. She was hurting.

  As we drove through the streets of an empty Portland, I kept glancing to the sky for fear of seeing another dark plane. I rolled down the window to listen for incoming music.

  None of us spoke. We were all wound tight, tuned for signs of danger. With each empty street we passed, the enormity of what we were facing grew more real. The idea that thousands of people had been wiped off the face of the earth was beyond horrifying.

  Not that the death of any innocent person can be justified, but with a war, there’s the grim expectation of casualties. But were we truly at war? If so, the people of Portland hadn’t gotten advance notice. They had been attacked without mercy and for seemingly no reason. It’s not like a victorious army came in afterward to occupy the city.

  It seemed as though the attack was all about death for death’s sake.

  As bad as it was, there was no way to know if Portland was the only target. What would we find when we left the city? Was the rest of the world safe and watching the grisly events unfold here in Maine? Or were there similar battles raging over New York? And Philadelphia? And Baltimore? And, and, and . . .

  Even more sobering, if civil war had broken out in the United States, it would affect the entire planet. We had allies and enemies. The world economy relied on us. A civil war would create chaos everywhere. What we were witnessing would have an impact that stretched far beyond the borders of our little universe.

  With those dire thoughts in mind, it was no wonder that none of us could bring ourselves to say much until we reached our destination.

  The Maine Medical Center was a sprawling, modern complex of brick buildings.

  “Go to the emergency room,” I called to Kent.

  “Yes, sir!” he replied with mock enthusiasm.

  He followed the signs and pulled to a stop in front of the glass ER doors. We all got out and took a quick look around. The parking lot was full, but not a single person was to be seen.

  “What’s the point?” Kent asked. “We’re not going to find any doctors.”

  “We’ll get clean bandages and antiseptic,” Tori said. “It’s not like I need surgery.”

  Olivia held Tori by the arm to support her.

  I led the group to the front door . . . and nearly walked right into it.

  Oops. No power.

  Kent pulled open a side door.

  “Or we could go this way,” he declared smugly.

  He held the door while the three of us entered.

  The sun was already on its way down. With no power in the building, it was
going to be a challenge to find anything—especially since the deeper we walked toward the emergency room, the fewer windows there were.

  “We gotta do this fast,” I said, “or it’ll be pitch dark.”

  We walked quickly toward the patient-treatment area, more or less guessing at which was the right way to go. Being there brought back memories. Bad memories. The last time I had been in a hospital was the week before, when Quinn and I snuck into his father’s office in the Arborville emergency room. We hacked into his parents’ computer looking for information about the Pemberwick virus. What we found was the first hint that there actually was no Pemberwick virus; the hospital database showed no cases being treated. It confirmed that Captain Granger and his SYLO team weren’t telling the people of Pemberwick the truth.

  As startling as that was, it was only the tip of the iceberg.

  “What’s that sound?” Olivia asked.

  I stopped short and tensed up, fearing an incoming attack plane. We listened and heard what sounded like a static-filled AM radio.

  “Could be a battery-powered radio,” I said.

  “Yes!” Kent exclaimed. “We can get news out of Boston.”

  We followed the sound while straining to hear what was being broadcast. There was more static than anything else, but we could occasionally hear the sound of a woman’s voice breaking through the clutter. It wasn’t clear enough to make out anything specific. The signal was either too weak or the battery was near dead.

  “It’s coming from in there,” Tori said, pointing to a closed door.

  I didn’t hesitate and went for the door.

  Dim light entered the room as I pushed it open. It was enough to see a small office. On the far wall was a desk that was stacked with electronic equipment, some of which had green power lights on. There were several computer monitors lit up and showing colorful data.

  “It is a radio,” Kent said.

  “Why do they have power?” Olivia asked with confusion.

  “It must be running on batteries,” I said. “Or an emergency generator. It looks like the communication room for the ER.”

  “So what is it picking up?” Tori asked.

  The static and voice were coming from speakers mounted near the ceiling. It was a bad signal, but I didn’t want to risk monkeying with the touchscreen for fear I would lose it completely. The static continued, along with the ghostly voice of a woman who was broadcasting from . . . somewhere. I only caught every third word.

  “. . . appeal . . . survivors . . . bloodied . . . attacked . . . join . . . north . . . thirty-six degrees . . . twenty seconds . . . hundred fourteen . . . fifty-seven . . . invaders . . . strength . . . hesitate . . .”

  The voice was clipped, and it cut in and out so that whatever she was saying made little sense.

  “Maybe we can talk to her,” Kent said and went for the radio.

  He picked up a microphone on a stand, brought it up to his mouth, and—

  “Don’t touch that!” barked a male voice from the hallway.

  We all jumped in surprise and spun quickly to see a guy standing there who didn’t look much older than us. He wore green hospital scrubs and a white lab coat. He had a head of thick, curly black hair and wore large glasses that gave him a wild, bug-eyed look. He pushed past us and went right for the radio.

  “I don’t want to lose the signal,” he said, peeved. “It’s tough enough finding it because it’s so weak.”

  He fine-tuned the frequency by moving his fingers over the touchscreen, but rather than bringing the ghostly voice in more clearly, he killed it entirely.

  “Damn!” he said, frustrated. “It’s over.”

  The guy touched a few more icons, and the radio went dark.

  “Who was that?” Kent asked. “And who are you?”

  “Jon Purcell,” the guy said. “I mean, that’s who I am. I don’t know who she was.”

  “What was she talking about?” Olivia asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Jon replied thoughtfully. “She comes on every two hours and says the same thing, I think. It’s hard to tell because I only get random words. She talks about survivors and heading west and spews out numbers, but none of it makes sense. I don’t even think she’s broadcasting live. It might be a recording, like a continuous loop, because it sounds exactly the same each time.”

  “So you don’t know if she’s close by or on the other side of the world,” I said.

  Jon looked at me like I had just asked if fish could sing.

  “Obviously she couldn’t be on the other side of the world,” he said condescendingly. “Radio waves don’t follow the curve of the earth. With some repeaters she could be broadcasting from a few thousand miles away, but that’s likely the limit.”

  “Right. Thanks for the physics lesson,” I said, not meaning it.

  “Do you work here?” Tori asked. “I need some help.”

  “I’m in transportation,” Jon said proudly. “I know every inch of this hospital. What do you need?”

  “Not transportation,” Ken said sarcastically.

  “I was shot,” Tori said, gesturing to her shoulder. “I want to clean up the wound.”

  “Shot?” Jon said in disbelief. “How? Why? What happened?”

  “Really?” Kent exclaimed. “The whole city is wiped out by laser beams from the sky, and you get all squirrelly over a bullet wound?”

  Jon snapped a look to Kent and walked right up to him. He must have been a foot shorter than tall, blond, preppy Kent, but that didn’t stop him from getting in his face. Or rather his Adam’s apple.

  “That’s exactly why I’m ‘all squirrelly,’ as you put it,” Jon said. “There aren’t a whole lot of survivors. The last thing we need to do is start shooting one another.”

  Kent looked as though he wanted to smack the little guy, but he held back.

  “Can you please show us where the medical supplies are?” I asked.

  “I can do better than that,” he replied. “This is your lucky day.”

  He turned and strode out of the office.

  The four of us exchanged confused looks.

  “I can think of a lot of words to describe this day,” Kent said. “‘Lucky’ isn’t one of them.”

  “Are we supposed to follow that little nerd?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes, you are!” Jon shouted from the hallway.

  “Oops,” Olivia said, then called out, “No offense!”

  She got no reply.

  We left the radio room and followed Jon deeper into the ER. The light was nearly gone, but that didn’t stop him from walking quickly.

  “Hey!” Kent yelled to him. “Transpo-Boy! You may know every inch of this place, but we don’t.”

  “We’re not going far,” Jon shouted back without stopping.

  We followed him through a doorway, and I saw a faint light further ahead. It was enough to recognize that we were in the main treatment area of the ER. Jon led us down a row of treatment stations that were separated by curtains. Each contained a bed for patients. None were occupied.

  The light grew brighter as we approached it, and I could see that it was coming from one of the curtained-off sections.

  “You’ve got power?” I asked.

  “We’ve got batteries,” Jon replied. “And lanterns.”

  He stepped past the illuminated curtain and said, “We have company.”

  Somebody was back there.

  “She’s been shot,” Jon added.

  The curtain was pulled back to reveal a tall Asian woman with long, dark hair wearing deep red hospital scrubs.

  “Hello,” she said with professional distance. “I’m Dr. Kayamori. Please call me Luna.”

  She was a strikingly pretty Japanese woman with a tanned complexion and long, dark sun-streaked hair.

  “A doctor?” Olivia exclaimed. “Thank God.”

  “I told you it was your lucky day,” Jon said, smug.

  “Who is injured?” Luna asked.

  Tori steppe
d forward.

  “The bullet passed clean through just below my shoulder. There was a lot of blood, but that’s stopped now. I just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

  Luna relaxed and broke out in a big, warm smile. I liked her instantly.

  “I’ll have to take your word that the bullet passed through. It isn’t like we can x-ray it. I’ll examine you and see what I can do.”

  She looked to the rest of us and asked, “What are your names?”

  “Kent.”

  “Olivia.”

  “Tucker.”

  “I’m Tori.”

  “When was the last time any of you had something to eat?” she asked.

  We all looked to one another dumbly.

  “It’s been a while,” I replied. “Food’s been the last thing on our minds.”

  “Jon, take them to the cafeteria,” Luna said. Then to us she added, “Eat the fresh food first.”

  “Do I have to do this?” Jon whined.

  “Yes, please,” Luna said firmly. “We are still a hospital, and we will continue to provide care.”

  “Fine,” Jon said, pouty.

  He grabbed a small battery-powered lamp and secured the strap around his head so the light shone from his forehead. The bright beam hit us in the eyes. He didn’t care.

  “Follow me,” he said with no enthusiasm.

  He shuffled off, keeping the beam on the floor ahead of him.

  Geek.

  “Maybe one of us should stay,” I said to Tori.

  “I’ll be okay,” she replied. “Bring me back something to eat. I’m suddenly starving.”

  “Me too,” Kent said, then called out, “Wait up, Chadwick.”

  “Chadwick?” Luna asked with confusion.

  “Don’t ask,” I said. “He makes up offensive names for everybody.”

  “Go,” Tori ordered. “I’m fine.”

  I didn’t want to leave her with a stranger, but I had the feeling that we were going to have to start doing a lot of things we wouldn’t normally do. Olivia and I caught up, and we followed the little guy to the far side of the building.

  “Why are you all still alive?” Jon asked with no hint of tact. “We made it because as soon as I saw trouble, I hid in the basement with Dr. Kayamori. The only people who survived were deep underground when the attack happened.”