SYLO

FIFTEEN

“I’ve seen some stuff,” I said tentatively.

“Who hasn’t?” was Quinn’s flip response.

“I mean, stuff I wish I hadn’t.”

“Again, who hasn’t?”

“I saw Granger murder somebody, okay!”

For the second time that day, Quinn was speechless. He sat there staring at me with his mouth hanging open. I hadn’t wanted to tell him about it. Not until we were all safe. But events were spiraling out of control. Safety seemed like a long way off. I wanted another ally.

“Details, please,” was all Quinn finally managed to croak out.

I told him everything. About Tori telling off Feit and how she showed me the horses and the Ruby that washed up on the beach along with the debris from what could have been the exploded shadow. I told him about the cigarette boat that was blown out of the water and the two guys who were hunted down and killed by SYLO soldiers…and by Granger. I also admitted to him that Tori was with me when I turned the Ruby and the wreckage in to the sheriff—and Granger.

He took it all in without a word. His nimble brain was taking each bit of information and placing it into an equation that would hopefully bring us to an answer that made sense. When I had finally gotten it all off my chest, I waited for his response.

Quinn nodded slowly then announced, “I knew you liked Tori Sleeper.”

“Seriously?” I shouted. “That’s all you got from that?”

“I’m kidding,” he said, then jumped to his feet and paced. He had gone from passive information gathering to full-on calculation mode.

“Okay, we know we’re being lied to,” he said, his words only a few steps ahead of his brain. “Or at least we’re not getting the whole truth about this so-called Pemberwick virus.”

“I think it’s all about the Ruby,” I declared.

“It can’t be that simple,” Quinn argued. “If that were true, all it would take is one announcement—‘Don’t eat the Ruby’—and poof, no more virus.”

“So then what do you think the Ruby is?”

“No idea,” Quinn said. “I’m more interested in SYLO. They’re grabbing people off the street but we’re only hearing about a few new cases of the virus. And now they’re so desperate to control the quarantine that they’re willing to kill people who try to escape.”

“I think the guy in that cigarette boat was trying to escape,” I said. “I don’t know about those men Granger hunted down and shot on the bluffs.”

“Whatever. It all comes back to the virus, and the reason SYLO is here,” Quinn declared.

“It’s gotta be about the Ruby,” I offered.

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Quinn said with frustration. “If the Ruby was causing the virus, why would they keep it a secret?”

“I don’t know! To keep us from panicking,” I shot back. “Look at what happened downtown. Reasonable people turned into an angry mob when they suddenly couldn’t log on to Facebook. Imagine what would happen if everyone found out that we were all…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“What?” Quinn asked. “Being poisoned?”

We let that hang there for a second.

“I don’t buy it,” Quinn said. “There’s gotta be more to the virus than that.”

“But if SYLO truly has no idea of what they’re dealing with, why would all those soldiers volunteer to come here?”

“Who knows?” Quinn replied. “Maybe they were vaccinated. They might be here just to keep us calm until the end.”

“Don’t say that,” I said, sober. “That’s like…beyond horror.”

“So what do you think is going on?” Quinn asked. “What exactly is the Ruby?”

“I don’t know,” I said quickly. “But you’re right. It comes back to the virus. If we knew more about it, this would all make more sense.”

Quinn gave me a sly smile. I knew that look. It meant he had thought of something that nobody else had…including me.

“What?” I asked.

“I know how we can find out more about the mysterious Pemberwick virus,” he declared.

“How?”

“My parents. They’re doctors at Arbortown Hospital. Dad’s in the ER. They’ve got to know about every case of the virus that’s been brought in.”

“That’s right!” I exclaimed. “What have they said about it?”

“Nothing. They never talk about patients. Confidentiality and all that.”

“But this is a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“I do, but they don’t.”

“So they’re a dead end.”

“No,” Quinn said, once again offering the sly smile. “They might not tell me anything about their patients…but their computers will.”

Minutes later we were on our way to Arbortown Medical. We grabbed bikes from Quinn’s garage and pedaled our way to the far northern end of town along roads that we had all to ourselves. Nobody was out for a casual drive. They were too busy hiding.

I’d only been to the hospital once, when I fell off my bunk bed and broke my wrist. It was a painful memory. The process of resetting bones hasn’t changed since medieval times. It was the longest four seconds of my life.

“Act casual and nobody will question us,” Quinn instructed as we stepped into the lobby.

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” I complained. “How exactly do I act casual?”

“By not acting.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Quinn Carr!” called the elderly woman who sat behind the information desk at the dead center of the large lobby. “I haven’t seen you around here in ages. You’re growing up to be quite the handsome young man.”

Under his breath Quinn said, “She says the exact same thing every time I see her.”

“Hi, Mrs. Guimond,” he said politely. Then in his most charming voice he added, “Are my parents around? I figure you’re the one to ask since you pretty much run this place.”

The sweet old woman chuckled and gave Quinn a coy smile. He knew the exact right thing to say to get people to do what he wanted. I was beginning to think he really was a brilliant student of human nature.

“Hang on a sec, sweetie,” the woman said. “Let me see.”

She checked her computer monitor, looking over her half eyeglasses.

Quinn leaned in to me and whispered, “She pretends to read the screen so people will think she knows how to use the computer.”

“Nope,” the woman announced. “They’re not checked in. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen them all day. Are you sure they’re scheduled?”

Quinn frowned. “They said they were. You absolutely sure they didn’t check in?”

“Sure as sugar,” she said with a smile.

“Okay, maybe I’m wrong. No worries. I’ve got to get something from their office. Homework.”

Before she could respond, Quinn grabbed my arm and hurried me past the desk.

“Wait, I’ll write you a pass,” Mrs. Guimond said.

“That’s okay, we won’t be long,” Quinn said and kept us moving.

“Shouldn’t we get a pass?” I asked him.

“Not if we don’t want any record that we were here,” Quinn said softly.

“What about your parents?” I asked. “I thought you said they were working today.”

“That’s what they told me,” Quinn said. He sounded troubled.

“Maybe she made a mistake,” I offered.

“Nah. Mrs. G may be a little dizzy, but she doesn’t miss a trick. If she says they aren’t here, they aren’t. What I want to know is why they said they were coming to work and didn’t.”

I didn’t want to speculate on the answer. There were too many bad scenarios.

Quinn led us quickly to a stairwell and down two flights to the ground floor and the emergency room, where his parents worked. A few people were being treated for what looked like scrapes and bruises. I wondered if they had gotten them on Main Street when the SYLO soldiers turned the hoses on the crowd. We didn’t stop to ask and kept moving down a long corridor of offices until we reached the end, and the office that was shared by Dr. and Dr. Carr, Quinn’s parents. Quinn gave a quick glance back toward the ER. There was nobody in sight so he opened the door and we slipped inside.

“Lock it,” he said as he hurried to one of the desks and fired up the computer. “Let me know if anybody’s coming.”

I twisted the lock and positioned myself near the door where I could see the corridor through the window.

“Doesn’t the computer have security?” I asked.

“Sure,” Quinn said as he keyed in a code. “High security. The passcode is my birthday. Then they each have their own personal codes…their birthdays. My parents may be great doctors but they’re clueless when it comes to computers. Got it!”

“Got what?”

“I’m on the secure hospital file server. I use the term secure with full sarcasm.”

“What’s there?” I asked while keeping an eye on the corridor.

“Everything. Schedules, budgets, equipment requests, even the cafeteria’s recipes. You name it. If it has to do with this hospital, it’s in here.”

“And what exactly are you looking for?”

Quinn continued to click through screens while he talked.

“The charts on the patients with the Pemberwick virus,” he replied.

“Aren’t you breaking a few dozen laws by looking through people’s personal medical history?”

“Absolutely. Ethical, moral, and criminal. But as far as anybody knows, my dad is the one who logged on and he’s allowed.”

A doctor hurried past the far end of the corridor and I ducked back so he wouldn’t see me.

“Whatever you’re doing, do it fast,” I said.

“Here, I got it,” Quinn declared. “Man, I am good.”

I couldn’t resist and hurried to the computer. Quinn was scrolling down a long list of file folders and came upon one that read PEMBERWICK VIRUS.

“That was easy,” I said.

“I told you, security is not their strength.”

Quinn dragged the folder onto the desktop and double-clicked it. The next level of files opened up, showing three different folders. They were marked DECEASED, ADMITTED, and UNDER OBSERVATION.

“Start with deceased,” I said. “We already know about them.”

Quinn clicked on the file and two more file folders appeared. One was marked MARTIN R. WIGGINS, the other PETER NELSON.

“That’s them,” I said. “Both dead.”

“Yeah, let’s see what the medical report said.”

Quinn clicked on the Nelson folder. It opened to reveal…nothing.

“How can it be empty?” I asked.

Quinn quickly clicked on Marty’s folder. It, too, was empty.

“Weird,” Quinn declared. “This should have all of their information, from the doctor’s evaluation to a death certificate and the autopsy report.”

“Check out ADMITTED,” I suggested. “The Berringers should be listed.”

Quinn closed out one folder and double-clicked on the ADMITTED folder. A new window opened. Quinn and I stared at it, neither comprehending what we were seeing.

“I don’t get it,” he finally said.

“Where are the files?” I asked.

“There are no files,” Quinn shot back. “According to this, not a single person with the Pemberwick virus has been admitted.”

“But they were,” I argued. “What about all those people that SYLO grabbed? And the Berringers?”

“I know,” Quinn replied with frustration. “That’s what I don’t get. I’ll check UNDER OBSERVATION.”

He closed out the file and opened the final folder. The result was the same.

“How can that be?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Quinn said, sounding shaken.

“Maybe there’s some kind of medical setup at the SYLO camp,” I offered.

“Then why did my parents tell me that all the suspected cases were being brought here? And those paramedics told us they were bringing the Berringers here.”

We both stared at the blank screen, hoping that it would provide some other clue.

“There has to be a mistake,” I said. “Are you sure this is the only record of patients for the hospital?”

“Yes!” Quinn shouted impatiently. “And it’s not just for this hospital. This is the database for the entire island. Even if patients were taken to some other place, the information would be entered here.”

I said, “Do you think that SYLO is hiding the information? Like a cover-up?”

“Maybe,” Quinn said tentatively. “There’s one other possibility.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Quinn turned from the screen and looked at me. His face was gleaming with nervous sweat and his heavy glasses had slipped down to the end of his nose.

“Maybe there is no Pemberwick virus,” he said softly.

“Dr. Carr?” came a voice from the corridor.

We both froze.

There was a knock on the door.

“Dr. Carr?” the man’s voice called again.

This time he tried the doorknob. Quinn shot me a questioning glance. I nodded quickly—I had locked the door. Did the guy have a key? Four seconds went by. Four seconds that felt longer than when they had reset my broken wrist.

Finally, the guy gave up, and we heard footsteps walking away.

Without a word Quinn logged off the computer and shut it down. After a quick check to make sure nothing was out of place, we headed out. Neither of us spoke as we cautiously opened the door, checked that nobody was in the corridor, and hurried back through the ER.

“Quinn!” a man’s voice called.

Quinn’s back went straight as if he’d been hit with a cattle prod.

A guy dressed all in white and with a name tag on his shirt approached us. He looked like a staff guy, not a doctor.

“Hey, is your dad scheduled today?” he asked. “I’ve got some requisition forms for him to sign.”

I willed Quinn to hold it together and think fast.

“You know,” Quinn said, sounding way more casual than he deserved to, “I thought he was, but I can’t find him. He must be around somewhere.”

“No problem,” the guy said. “I’ll catch him tomorrow.”

The guy hurried off and we could breathe again. The two of us did all we could to keep from running out of there. We hit the stairs, climbed back to the lobby, and hurried out the front door without stopping to say goodbye to Mrs. Guimond.

Once outside, we finally gave in and started running. We grabbed the bikes, blasted out of the parking lot, and didn’t stop pedaling until we hit the war memorial on the edge of the village green. There, we finally dumped the bikes and sat on the edge of the large cement sculpture that had the engraved names of all the war dead from Pemberwick. We were both breathing hard and trying to catch our breath when I looked up at the long list of names…and was hit with an odd thought: All those guys had died fighting for our country. I wondered what any of them would have done if they had been asked to be part of an outfit like SYLO.

“Why did my parents lie?” Quinn said, gulping for air. “What do they know?”

“Don’t get all paranoid,” I cautioned. “They’re probably just as clueless as the rest of us.”

“No,” Quinn shot back. “My dad doesn’t miss a thing. Neither does Mom. They’re like…like surgeons. That’s how precise they are. No wasted effort. No wasted words. They say what they mean with no room for wiggle. They said they were both going to work.”

“So maybe something came up.”

“Sure. Okay. Possible. But they’ve definitely been lying about the virus patients. Why would they do that unless…” His voice trailed off.

“Unless what?” I asked.

“Unless they’re hiding something,” Quinn declared. “Tuck, could they be involved with this somehow?”

“No,” I answered quickly, then thought for a second. “I mean, that’s crazy. Right?”

He didn’t answer.

My mind raced ahead, trying to understand what it was we had uncovered, and what to do with the information. There was nobody to turn to. The sheriff was useless, we were cut off from the rest of the world, and the people who were supposedly protecting us were the ones keeping all the secrets.

“We gotta tell my parents,” I finally declared. “I didn’t want to before but this is getting out of control.”

“What can they do?” Quinn asked, skeptically.

“I don’t know!” I shouted. “But I don’t want to deal with this alone anymore.”

“Okay. Right. I’m with you.”

We had gotten our wind back enough to get on the bikes and ride to my house. It felt good to focus on riding. It helped keep my thoughts from spinning out of control, kind of like our midnight rides. My entire focus was on getting home, dumping everything I knew on my parents, and getting some sage parental advice that would help us figure out the right thing to do. That’s what parents did. It was their job. I was actually starting to feel a little bit better…

…until we turned the corner onto my street.

“Oh, crap,” Quinn muttered.

Two black Humvees were parked in front of my house.

My stomach hit the sidewalk.

“They must be looking for you,” Quinn said.

I didn’t know if that was true or not but wanted to find out before they knew I was there. We walked behind my neighbor’s house, past the hedge that bordered my backyard, and right to my back door. We dumped the bikes out of sight, then followed in reverse the route that I always took when sneaking out of my room at night for our midnight rides. I climbed onto the porch, shinnied up the column that held up the roof, and snuck across the shingled surface to my window. I was in my bedroom in under a minute. Quinn followed seconds later. We quietly moved across my room to the door. Luckily it was open a crack. From there we could hear what was happening in the living room below.

My parents were there. I recognized their voices. But I also recognized another voice.

“It is absolutely imperative that we find them,” the man said. “Both of them.”

A chill rolled up my spine. It was Captain Granger. He was in my house. Talking to my parents.

Quinn saw the look on my face and turned pale. There was no way to know how many other SYLO soldiers were in the room, but there had to be at least one since there were two Humvees parked outside.

“I have no idea where he could be,” Dad said.

“This is a critical moment,” Granger added. “All signs indicate that the event is imminent. The arks have all been secured. If there’s any trouble here on Pemberwick Island, then—”

“You don’t have to remind us,” Mom said. “We get it. All too well.”

I shot Quinn a look. His eyes were already wide behind his thick glasses.

What event? What were they talking about? What were arks? More importantly, how would my mother know about any of it?

“There were no casualties during the rogue insurrection this afternoon,” Granger said. “But I can’t promise that being the case the next time, especially if your son starts riling folks up.”

My knees went weak. My fears were correct. I was square in Granger’s sights.

Mom said, “You could be mistaken.”

“There was no mistake, Mrs. Pierce,” Granger shot back curtly. “We have the satellite intel. It was your son and the Sleeper girl who witnessed our ambush of the rogues out near the Sleeper house. I only wish we had seen them at the time.”

I had to hold my breath to keep from letting out a gasp. We were done. Granger knew we had seen him kill those men—and apparently so did my parents.

Granger continued, “This island is a powder keg and the fuse is burning quickly. If those two children start throwing accusations around, it will get very ugly very fast and it will be well within my mission to use whatever countermeasures are necessary to keep the peace.”

Dad said, “When he gets home, you’ll be the first to know.”

I knew that tone. His teeth were clenched in anger as he fought to keep from boiling over.

“I can’t wait for that,” Granger declared. “We’re going to find them.” It sounded as though Granger had stood up and was headed for the door.

“You mean like you found that Feit person?” Dad called sarcastically.

My head started to spin. Dad knew about Feit too! He knew everything!

“We’ll find him as well,” Granger shot back. “This entire operation is about timing. I want to minimize casualties but if your son interferes—”

“He won’t,” Dad assured him.

“I need you to understand,” Granger said sternly. “There is far too much at stake here to jeopardize our mission by protecting them.”

“We understand,” Dad shot back sharply. “We’ve all worked too hard and too long to let this get out of hand now. I can’t speak for the Sleeper girl but you won’t have to worry about Tucker.”

“I’m going to make sure of that,” Granger said. It sounded like a threat.

Someone’s cell phone chirped. I didn’t think for a second that phone service had been restored to everyone. It had to be one of the SYLO guys.

“Granger,” said the captain, answering the phone.

There was silence for a few seconds as he listened to whomever was calling him.

“When?” Granger barked angrily, sounding even more annoyed than he had been a second before. He listened for a few more seconds, then added, “Understood.”

He cut off the phone and announced, “Less than an hour ago, Dr. Francis Carr logged on to the Pemberwick Medical Database at the hospital and opened the files concerning the Pemberwick virus. However, Dr. Carr and his wife weren’t at the hospital. They are assigned to the SYLO base. But their son was seen at the hospital, along with another young man.”

“My God,” Mom said. “Quinn.”

Quinn let out a gasp that I feared was loud enough to be heard from downstairs.

“Quinn’s a smart kid,” Dad said. “If he smells a rat, he’ll find it, and this bogus virus is a very big, smelly rat.”

I had to keep from screaming. It was true. There was no Pemberwick virus—and my parents knew it all along.

“I want all three of those young people in custody,” Granger said, the tension in his voice rising.

“I’m going with you,” Dad declared. It sounded as though he was moving across the room.

“I’ll wait here,” Mom called. “And captain?”

“Yes?”

“Do not harm those children. Any of them.”

I’d never heard my mom talk with such intensity. It wasn’t a request; it was a threat.

Granger didn’t respond to her. A second later I heard a door slam, and soon after that, one of the Humvees roared to life. Only one. Whoever was driving the other vehicle was still downstairs with my mother.

I was ready to puke. How was this possible? My own mother and father knew exactly what was happening on Pemberwick Island…and they were working with Granger to capture me.

I didn’t know what to do, but Quinn and I couldn’t stay there, not with a SYLO soldier downstairs waiting to grab us. I motioned to the window and Quinn nodded. We were on the same page.

It took every bit of willpower I had to climb out of my room—the room that always felt so safe but was now just a room in a house of people I wasn’t sure I could trust. Quinn followed as I climbed out, and we made our way back to the ground. Without a word I sprinted to the far end of the property and dove through some tall hedges until we were out of sight and earshot of the house.

“What the hell?” Quinn exclaimed, with tears growing in his eyes. “What was that?”

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered. “They’ve been acting strange lately. Mom has been crying a lot and they’ve been talking about having moved to Pemberwick because it was ‘safe.’ What was so unsafe about Connecticut?”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No! Jeez, they’re my parents. They’re supposed to be looking out for me, but—”

“They’re looking out for you, all right,” Quinn said, interrupting. “And when they find you they’re going to turn you over to Granger. They’re working with him, Tuck, and so are my parents. There is no Pemberwick virus. The quarantine is just a cover for—what? Genocide? Or some freak experiment? Are we all going to be fed this Ruby stuff?”

“I don’t know,” I said, numb. I felt like I was falling and that there would be no soft landing.

“What was that about an event?” Quinn asked, clicking back into analytical mode. “Granger said it was imminent. And your parents knew what he was talking about. It sounded like they’ve known for a while. You heard the threat. Granger would sooner kill us than risk us telling anybody about it.”

We stood there, both trying to understand what it was we had heard. I didn’t know what bothered me more: the fact that the people of Pemberwick had been fed a steady stream of bull since the moment SYLO invaded our home or that my parents had known about it from the start. No, worse—my parents were actually part of it. Quinn’s parents too. They had lied to us. All that time my parents and I had spent wondering what was going on, it was all an act. The people I relied on the most, whom I loved, couldn’t be trusted.

“What are we going to do, Tuck?” Quinn asked softly. “They’re coming after us. We can’t hide forever.”

“I’ve got to talk to my parents,” I said.

“What? No! They’ll turn you in!”

“They’re my parents, Quinn. I don’t care what we’ve heard, there’s got to be some reason behind this that makes sense. I don’t believe for a second that they’d just turn on me like that. Your parents either. It just doesn’t fly.”

Quinn calmed down, which ended up being worse. In many ways anger and confusion were easier to understand and deal with than betrayal. He had to fight back tears.

“How could they lie to me like that?” he asked, as much to himself as to me. “Does that mean our whole lives have been based on lies?”

“I don’t want to believe that,” I replied. “I can’t. It sounded bad, but they were still trying to protect us. You heard. I’m going to hold on to that and I think you should too.”

Quinn nodded and wiped his eyes. “Well, we can’t talk to any of them now because we’re on the Pemberwick Most Wanted list and if we—”

“Oh no!” I shouted as a thought hit me like a bat to the head.

“What now?”

“Tori’s on that list too.”

I pulled out my cell phone and started dialing before realizing what a waste of time that was.

“Damn.” I exclaimed, snapping the phone shut.

“Yeah, you’re not on SYLO’s calling plan,” Quinn pointed out.

“C’mon,” I said and took off for our garage.

“To where?” Quinn asked nervously.

“We’ve got to warn her,” I shouted back.

“How?”

I didn’t answer because I wasn’t sure myself. It was like I was on autopilot. My legs were ahead of my brain as they carried me to our garage, where Dad’s pickup was parked.

“We’ll drive to her house,” I announced, jumping behind the wheel.

“You can drive? When did you get your license?”

“Yes, and about two years from now.”

Quinn crawled into the passenger side.

“Seriously? You’re going to drive us out to the far end of the island and you don’t have a license?”

I turned and looked Quinn square in the eye.

“Maybe you’re right,” I said sarcastically. “The island’s about to explode, people are being abducted and murdered, we’ve got the United States Navy hunting us down, and our parents are helping them. Wouldn’t want to add a driving violation to that.”

Quinn gave me a weak smile. “Point taken,” he said sheepishly. “Just keep us on the road.”

I had driven with Dad many times on the more desolate roads of Pemberwick, so handling the truck wasn’t the problem. Making it to Tori’s house without getting caught was the real challenge. I turned the engine over, eased into gear, and slowly drove out of the garage. Our driveway ran right by our house, which meant the SYLO soldiers inside would definitely see us. I had to take an alternate route. Rather than head straight along the driveway, I made a U-turn around the garage, drove across the grass, and straight through to our neighbor’s property. The folks behind us had a perfectly manicured lawn. Not anymore. It killed me to drive a truck over it and dig in deep tracks…but not really. There were way bigger things to worry about than lawn care.

“You realize this isn’t a road, right?” Quinn cautioned nervously.

I ignored him and drove slowly, hoping it would draw less attention. Gratefully, our neighbors didn’t come out screaming. I managed to get to the far end of their property and navigate across their bed of marigolds before hitting the gravel driveway. I made a mental note to replace their flowers as soon as I got the chance. The thought actually made me laugh. Why the hell was I worried about replacing flowers when we were fugitives?

“Now go!” Quinn yelled.

We hit the main road and I gunned it. Part of me wanted to jam the pedal to the floor and speed as quickly as possible out to Tori’s, but that would have been inviting attention. Our only chance was to blend in and avoid any SYLO soldiers who had been alerted to look for us.

Tori’s house was about ten miles out of town along the Memagog Highway. There was no alternate route. I gripped the wheel so tightly I was afraid it would snap, and I constantly glanced at the rearview mirror, expecting to see a black Humvee speed up from behind. My stomach was in a knot, waiting for the worst to happen at any second.

Quinn must have felt the same way because he didn’t say a word. I think he was holding his breath.

We were about two-thirds of the way there and I started to think we might make it, when a black speck appeared in the road far ahead of us. A red flashing light shot from the grill. It was a Humvee.

“Damn,” Quinn cursed.

I looked left and right, hoping for a side road, ready to roll the dice and turn off in the hopes that they hadn’t seen us. There was nothing but an unbroken line of trees. It was the worst possible spot to cross paths with the enemy.

“Turn into the woods,” Quinn cried.

“That’s crazy. We wouldn’t get twenty yards.”

“But we can’t just give up!”

I squeezed the wheel even tighter. The black speck with the flashing light grew larger as we sped closer.

“Maybe they don’t know it’s us,” I offered.

“Yeah, right, and maybe Granger’s really a good guy,” Quinn said sarcastically.

The odds of either weren’t good, but we had no choice. We had to keep going.

The Humvee loomed large. I took my foot off the gas in anticipation of the car skidding to a stop on our side of the road, cutting us off.

“Duck down,” I ordered.

“Why?”

“They’re looking for two guys. Maybe if they only see one they’ll—”

Too late. The Humvee screamed by without stopping.

Quinn and I kept looking ahead, both afraid to turn to see brake lights, which would mean it was going to come after us. Seconds passed and I finally looked in the rearview mirror to see the Humvee disappearing toward town.

We both let out a relieved breath.

“So then, who are they after?” Quinn asked.

My mind raced ahead to our destination, making the answer obvious.

“Maybe they already found who they were after,” I said and jammed the gas pedal to the floor.

The truck skidded on sand, the wheels bit, and we took off. My fear was that SYLO had already gotten to Tori and she was a prisoner in the Humvee. I didn’t care about being inconspicuous anymore. I wanted to get to her house as fast as possible. It took only a few more tense minutes before I saw the turnoff to the Sleepers’ lagoon-side house. I made the turn while barely slowing down and screamed up the sandy driveway. We bumped along until we hit the clearing that was their yard, where I slammed on the brakes, killed the engine, and ran toward the house.

“Tori!” I called.

I ran up onto the porch and right to the front door, where I hammered more than knocked.

“Are you in there?” I called.

My answer was a shotgun blast that blew out the window next to the door.

“Whoa!” Quinn screamed as we both hit the ground and covered up.

“The next one’s aimed at you!” Tori yelled from inside.

“It’s Tucker! And Quinn! Don’t shoot!”

Neither of us dared to move. I didn’t want to have to deal with Granger, but at that moment I was more worried about tangling with Tori. I dared to look up at the door and saw the curtain pull aside to reveal Tori inside, peering out.

A second later the door opened and Tori came out holding a shotgun to her shoulder, ready to fire again.

“You alone?” she demanded.

“Yes!” I shouted without getting up. “We came to warn you. Granger knows we saw him shoot those guys. He’s coming after us.”

Tori’s eyes were wild. She scanned the yard as if looking for any hidden threats.

“They’ve already been here,” she said, and I sensed the confusion in her voice. She was putting on a good show of strength, but she was upset.

“We saw a Humvee screaming the other way into town,” Quinn said. “What happened?”

“They took my father,” Tori replied. Her voice was shaking. Gone was the bold protector of their property.

Quinn and I stood up cautiously, neither convinced she wouldn’t suddenly turn the gun on us again.

Quinn said, “And they left you here?”

“They couldn’t find me,” Tori replied. “There’s a root cellar you can get to through the pantry. If you don’t know it’s there, you’d never see it. Dad made me hide down there just before they barged in and starting shoving him around. They wanted to know where I was. Dad reacted the only way he knows how, with his fists. He wasn’t about to let some thugs take his little girl.”

Tori lowered the gun and started to cry. Seeing that was almost as unsettling as her pointing the shotgun at me. The girl who rarely showed her emotions was finally breaking down.

“They dragged him out like…like some criminal,” she said, her words clutching. “What the hell is going on?”

I didn’t know where to begin to answer that question. The only thing I knew for certain was that the three of us were about as alone as could be. There was nowhere for us to go and nobody to turn to for help.

Quinn said, “Tuck’s parents, and my parents…they’re working with SYLO.”

Tori stiffened with surprise.

“What? How is that possible?” she asked.

“We don’t know,” I said. “But we heard that something is about to happen. Something huge. They’re afraid that if we tell people about what we know, there’ll be a riot and the island will explode.”

“What’s going to happen?” Tori asked, sounding lost. “What could be so bad that they’re willing to kill people to keep it quiet?”

My ear caught a faint sound that broke through the normal ocean and wind sounds of the remote property.

“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand. “Listen.”

We all stood still, straining to understand what the alien sound could be.

Tori heard it too. “What is that?”

The sound grew louder. It was a steady thumping noise that quickly grew louder.

“Helicopter,” Quinn announced. “They’re coming back.”