Storm Page 8

  “We haven’t seen any animals,” Jon pointed out. “You’d think there’d be a stray dog or cat lurking around.”

  “It’s horrible,” Tori said. “You’re talking about a weapon that can sweep across cities and kill thousands of people every second.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” I said. “When we saw Portland lighting up that night, it wasn’t a battle, it was a mass execution.”

  “Jeez,” Kent said, stunned.

  “There wasn’t any sound,” Tori said, remembering. “No explosions. No crashes. No sirens or alarms. We would have heard that over the ocean.”

  “It was probably over in minutes,” I said solemnly.

  Jon added, “Dr. Kayamori and I survived because we were down in the bowels of the hospital where that weapon couldn’t reach us.”

  “Which means there have to be other survivors who were protected the same way,” I declared. “We’re not going to be totally alone.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Tori said, stunned. “We’re talking about the United States Air Force systematically wiping out the populations of two major cities.”

  “Maybe my idea isn’t so far-fetched,” Kent said. “This really could be an alien invasion.”

  “Aliens that put Air Force logos on their planes?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Who cares what kind of logos they have! Maybe they use the same logo on the planet Nimnac! I’ve never heard of any weapon that can do this. It makes nukes seem like BB guns.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t believe that we’ve been invaded by creatures from another planet,” I said adamantly.

  “I can’t believe any of this!” Kent bellowed. “But we’re looking at the possible annihilation of the human race. There, I said it. Portland’s been wiped out. Boston doesn’t look any better. We haven’t had communication with the rest of the world in weeks. For all we know, those planes hit every city in the country. In the world. What makes more sense? That our own military wiped out the earth’s population, or that it’s somebody from another world?”

  “The entire population hasn’t been wiped out,” Tori said. “There’s SYLO.”

  “Yeah, until tonight, when those planes show up again and finish off whatever’s left of those Navy ships . . . and Pemberwick Island.”

  “Stop!” Olivia shouted, in tears. “This is horrible!”

  “That’s one word for it,” Kent said. “It’s gonna be dark soon. I don’t want to be driving around when those planes fire up their ray guns again.”

  “We should find a place to spend the night,” I said.

  Kent turned off of Storrow Drive near Fenway Park. Fenway is the greatest ballpark in the majors. At least that’s what my father always said, and I had to agree. We’d been to many games there, mostly against the Yankees and mostly to see the Sox get their butts whipped, but that didn’t make the park any less special.

  It was late September. Playoff time. Fenway should have been rocking. Instead, it was dead quiet and empty, more proof of the horror that had become our new lives. Kent drove us right up to the familiar structure. There were no other cars or vending carts to stop us. Colorful Red Sox banners fluttered in the breeze, a cruel reminder that this was a place where people came for fun. Now it was an empty shell in a city of the dead.

  Kent said, “Maybe the Sox were safe deep down in the locker room when—WHOA!”

  He jammed on the brakes, and we came to an abrupt stop.

  Twenty yards ahead of us, hovering a few feet above the roadway, was a black Air Force plane. It was like we had rounded the bend in a wooded trail and came upon a snake that was coiled and ready to strike.

  The moment was frozen in time.

  We sat there like two gunslingers, each waiting for the other to twitch. The music of the plane’s engines was faint, but I heard it.

  “What do I do?” Kent asked with a strained, terrified whisper.

  I looked around quickly, hoping to see an escape route, or at least some protection to shield us from the plane. There was nothing.

  Tori slowly moved her hand forward and opened the glove compartment.

  “You’re dreaming,” Kent cautioned.

  “You have a better idea?” Tori asked.

  While looking straight ahead at the plane, Tori eased the gun out and cocked a bullet into the chamber.

  “Open the sunroof,” she commanded.

  “You can’t be serious,” Olivia cried.

  “Open the sunroof,” Tori repeated through gritted teeth.

  Kent followed orders. He hit the button on the dash and the sunroof slid open while Tori unlocked her seat belt.

  “I’m going to stand up and start shooting,” Tori said.

  “No!” Jon cried. “You’ll get us killed!”

  “If I’m going to die,” Tori said without looking back at him, “I’m going to do some damage first. Kent, when I start firing, get us the hell out of here.”

  I wanted to stop her but didn’t know what else we could do.

  Kent tightened his grip on the wheel.

  Olivia whimpered with fear.

  Jon dropped down to the floor.

  Tori slipped out of her seat belt and made a move to stand up . . .

  . . . as the music from the black plane grew louder. It was powering up its engines.

  Slowly, it began to float toward us.

  “Too late!” Kent yelled.

  He threw the Explorer into reverse and jammed his foot on the gas.

  “No!” Tori screamed and fell back into her seat with a grunt of pain.

  I pushed Olivia down to the floor, for whatever good that would do.

  Kent was twisted around backward, a wild look in his eyes, as he fought to stay in control of the SUV.

  “Is it coming?” he shouted.

  “It’s rising higher,” I replied. “And closing.”

  “Damn!” Kent bellowed. “Hang on!”

  He spun the wheel, and the SUV whipped around so quickly I feared we would flip. We crashed into a couple of garbage cans and narrowly missed hitting a cement light pole, but Kent stayed in control and got us turned in the other direction.

  “We can’t outrun that thing,” I warned.

  “We can try,” Kent shot back.

  I turned to see that the black plane had lifted even higher off the ground and was looming closer. In seconds it would be directly over us.

  “Find an alley,” I screamed. “Anything to keep it off of us.”

  “You say that like I’m not already trying!” Kent yelled back.

  Tori made a move toward the sunroof again.

  “Sit down!” I shouted.

  I grabbed her belt and yanked her back into the seat.

  She glared at me but stayed put.

  “We’re reaching the end of the stadium. When I make the turn, hang on,” Kent commanded. “I’m going to floor it and—whoa!”

  When he turned the corner onto Brookline Avenue, we were faced with a dozen cop cars with flashing lights headed our way.

  “What?” Kent screamed.

  I thought for sure there would be a head-on collision. Kent slammed the brakes. The seat belts held us all in our seats, except for Tori. She flew forward and hit the dashboard. I heard her squeal as she hit—and I hoped that the gun wouldn’t accidently go off.

  The cars all hit their sirens, joining together in a steady, aggressive wail that would have been annoying if it weren’t so welcome.

  “What’s happening?” Olivia asked, stunned.

  “I think the cavalry just arrived,” I replied.

  “They’re crazy,” Jon shouted. “They’ll be blown apart.”

  The group of screaming cars split apart and passed us on either side.

  We all turned quickly to see them chase after the black plane that was now headed in the opposite direction and gaining altitude. It was like seeing a black fox being chased off by a pack of hungry dogs. Only in this case, the fox had lethal teeth that could easily tear the hounds apart.


  “I don’t get it,” Jon said, stunned.

  “What is it afraid of?” I added. “It’s not like the cops can shoot it out of the sky.”

  “Or maybe they can,” Tori sniffed.

  The black plane banked sharply to the left and accelerated, rising into the sky. Seconds later, it was out of sight.

  The five of us stared after it, not entirely sure of what we had seen.

  “What just happened?” I said, dumbfounded. “I’m not complaining, I just don’t get it.”

  The cop cars had broken off their pursuit and were headed back our way. Their flashing lights were dark, their sirens silent. One car was out in front; the others drove behind in threes. We watched as the lead car came to within ten yards of our rear bumper and stopped.

  “Put the gun away,” I ordered Tori.

  I saw her eyes flare with defiance, but she opened the glove compartment and threw it inside.

  I pushed open my door, got out, and walked to the rear of our car. The others followed directly after and stood behind me.

  The sun reflected off all of the car windows, so I couldn’t see who was inside any of them. We stood that way for a solid ten seconds. I was beginning to wonder if we had found yet another enemy when the driver’s door opened on the lead car.

  Out stepped a burly guy who looked more like a linebacker than a cop. He was tall with a heavy, dark beard and wore jeans and an “Ortiz” Red Sox jersey. He rounded his car and stood in front of it with his arms folded, watching us.

  The other car doors opened, and several more people came out, none of whom looked like cops. There were a few women, but most were men. They were all dressed in street clothes, some in business suits, others in jeans. They all looked to be around my dad’s age, or younger.

  “You kids are lucky we came along,” the lead guy finally said.

  “We are,” I called back. “I can’t believe you scared that plane off. I mean, it could have blown you all away.”

  “It could have. Those things pack a wallop. But they’re fragile. A couple of rifle shots and they drop like a brick. We’ve tangled before. They know better than to stand up against a posse that’s armed for bear.”

  “Who are you?” Tori asked. “You’re not cops.”

  The lead guy looked back to the others. They all laughed as if Tori had just said something very cute, or very stupid.

  “We’re the closest thing to cops that’s left around here,” the big guy said. “Who are you?”

  “We just drove down from Portland,” I answered. “But we’re from Pemberwick Island.”

  On hearing the words “Pemberwick Island,” they all tensed up.

  “There’s no virus there, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tori said.

  “No,” the guy replied. “We never thought there was. It’s just a little surprising to see folks who made it this far. And kids, no less.”

  “So who are you?” Kent asked.

  “You’re looking at the last survivors of Boston, Mass.,” he answered. “Welcome to Bean Town. Or what’s left of it.”

  SEVEN

  “My name’s Chris,” the big guy said, holding out his hand to shake. “Chris Campbell.”

  I shook his hand and said, “Tucker Pierce. This is Tori Sleeper, Olivia Kinsey, Kent Berringer, and Jon, uh, what was your last name again, Jon?”

  “Purcell. Jon Purcell.”

  “Welcome,” Chris said. “Though I guess that’s an odd thing to say. There’s nothing welcoming about Boston anymore.”

  Chris seemed friendly enough, though I wouldn’t challenge him to a fight. He had biceps like hams that strained his jersey. He didn’t have a trace of a Boston accent—which was strange, considering he was wearing a Sox jersey.

  He motioned to the others behind him and added, “You’ll meet the rest of my crew soon enough. Where are your parents?”

  None of us answered.

  “Never mind,” Chris said quickly, picking up on the fact that he had touched on a sore subject. “We’ve all got stories.”

  “How did you guys survive the attack?” Tori asked.

  “Different ways,” Chris said. “Bottom line is, we were all deep underground when those bastards hit. I work for Mass Electric. I was working below the Prudential Center when the power went out.” He chuckled and added, “I was afraid it was something I did. Thought I was gonna catch hell. Took me two hours to get back to street level, and when I did . . .”

  He didn’t have to describe what he found.

  “Is this it?” Olivia asked. “Are you really the only survivors?”

  “Nah, we’re just the cowboys.”

  “Cowboys?” Jon said.

  “We got tired of sitting on our butts and boohooing, so we grabbed these cop cars. During the day we sweep the city, looking for other survivors. A lot of people made it, thank God. We round ’em up and bring ’em all together. Like cowboys.”

  “Yippee ki-yay,” Kent said sarcastically.

  “Hey,” Chris shot back. “It’s a good thing. We’ve all lost family and friends. We gotta take care of each other.”

  “Sorry,” Kent said, chastened.

  “Don’t worry about it. Gotta keep a sense of humor, right?”

  “Do you have any idea why it happened?” I asked.

  “No clue,” Chris replied. “One minute everything was fine, the next minute the city got swarmed by these flying Darth Vaders.”

  “‘Darth Vader’ is right,” Kent chimed in. “We think they came from another planet.”

  “That’s just one theory,” I said quickly. “We have no idea where they came from, except that they have United States Air Force logos.”

  Chris was visibly shaken by that. He looked back at his other “cowboys,” who looked equally stunned.

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “One crashed in Portland,” I replied. “We saw the wreck.”

  “Seriously?” Chris asked, his excitement growing. “You got a close-up look at one of them bastards?”

  “We saw a whole lot that you probably didn’t,” Tori said.

  “Well, then you gotta tell us,” Chris replied enthusiastically. “Not knowing what’s going on makes it that much worse. Though I guess things can’t get much worse than Armageddon.”

  Armageddon. It was the first time I’d heard that word. Was it possible? Was this the beginning of the end of the world?

  We were ready to tell them what had happened on Pemberwick Island, but Chris asked us to wait until we got back to a place he called “the Hall.” It was the spot where the Boston survivors were congregating. One of the cowboys went with Kent and Tori in the Explorer. There was no way Tori was going to be separated from her guns. Olivia glued herself to me. There was no way she was going to be separated from someone she trusted. Kent started to protest, but Olivia hurried me away before he could say a word.

  I really wished she wasn’t playing this game, whatever game it was. I didn’t need trouble with Kent.

  Jon went on his own with one of the other cowboys.

  Olivia and I walked toward Chris’s police car. Before we got in the back, I glanced at Tori and Kent. As they walked together, Kent put his arm around her like he was being protective. At least I think that’s what it was about. Tori didn’t shrug him off. I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealousy, though I had no right to feel that way. We had been thrown together under dire circumstances and had a connection, but that didn’t mean we were, like . . . together. She could let anybody put his arm around her while she leaned in close and put her head on his shoulder . . . which is what she did. It was none of my business.

  Then again, I thought Kent was all about Olivia. What was his deal?

  I decided that we had a bigger drama going on and stopped staring at them . . . as he brushed Tori’s hair out of her eyes and gently helped her into the back of the Explorer.

  Olivia had her arm draped through mine, and the length of her body pressed against my side lik
e wallpaper. She was scared and needed any kind of security she could find. I didn’t mind, especially after what I saw between Kent and Tori.

  Everyone else loaded up, and as if on cue, the cars took off—but in different directions. In seconds we were moving along the deserted streets of Boston.

  “I thought we were all going to the same place?” Olivia said.

  “We try not to travel in groups,” Chris replied. “You never know when one of them planes will show up. Right after the attack they’d sweep through the city looking for strays, but that’s happening less and less. The plane that was after you was the first one I’ve seen in days. I think they did what they came to do, and now they’re done with us.”

  I thought of the plane that had attacked us in Portland. Was that what it was doing? Searching for strays? With their evil mission complete, would they now leave us alone?

  “How many survivors are there?” I asked.

  “Hard to tell because they come and go. At any one time there might be about a hundred at the Hall. But there are plenty more out there, scared and hiding. We find ’em every day.”

  “What exactly is the Hall?” I asked.

  “It’s like a refugee camp,” Chris explained. “There’s food and a place to sleep and even some doctors. We pretty much take care of one another.”

  “If it’s so great, why would anybody leave?” Olivia asked.

  “Different reasons. Some go looking for loved ones. Others don’t want to be in a large group. They’re afraid we’re sitting ducks. For me, I’d rather be with people. If I’m going to die, I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Do you think the planes hit other cities?” I asked.

  Chris gave me a quick sideways look and said, “Don’t you? What happened up in Portland?”

  “Same thing,” I replied.

  “There you go. I don’t know who those devils are, but they seem to have only one goal, and that’s to wipe us out.”

  That put an end to the conversation.

  Every time I tried to imagine the wider implications of what was happening, I was hit with a gut-twisting sense of sadness and dread. How many people had been killed? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Billions? It was too staggering a concept to comprehend. I found that it was better to focus on the here and now as opposed to letting my mind wander to the big picture. Thinking too far ahead was like looking into a dark hole . . . with a black plane inside, lying in wait.