SYLO

TWELVE

I decided not to ask her any more questions until we had arrived at wherever she was taking us. The whine of the scooter was too loud and besides, I wanted her to focus on not wrapping us around a tree. Tori liked to go fast and take sharp corners. It felt just shy of reckless but I didn’t want to sound like a weenie by complaining.

Our trip took us past the Oak Hills Country Club where we saw that it had been transformed into the SYLO base camp. Dad had a contract with Oak Hills, so I’d spent a lot of time there tending the clubhouse gardens and knew the layout pretty well. Flashing past, though, I barely recognized the place. There were dark green military-looking tents erected up and down the golf fairways. Some were small and looked to be where the soldiers slept while others were massive, circus-tent-sized structures. I also saw the tops of some wooden structures that were going up. That made me nervous. They may have been prefabricated quickie buildings but it gave the impression that they planned on being there for a while.

Humvees and Jeeps came and went. A helicopter swooped overhead and skimmed the treetops before landing somewhere within. I caught a glimpse of a truck that had sprouted a dozen antennas, all pointed in different directions. The amount of equipment that had suddenly appeared on Pemberwick was incredible. The once-perfect golf course had a new personality. There had always been a tall ivy-covered wall surrounding the property but now with armed soldiers at every entrance, that wall had taken on a different, more ominous character. I saw the glint of silver razor wire peeking over the top as if another, more secure barricade had been erected within. This was now a secure military base. There would be no sneaking in to walk your dog or going for a run on the wide fairways as long as SYLO was there.

“I guess the members aren’t going to be playing a whole lot of golf for a while,” I said to Tori above the engine whine.

“So sad,” she replied with total sarcasm. “What’ll all those rich guys do with their time?”

“Seriously. I just hope my dad gets the contract to clean it up.”

Tori had probably never set foot inside the country club, I realized, unless it was to deliver a load of lobsters. Being so close to her, I caught the unmistakable scent of lemons. I couldn’t help but think that it was her way of masking who she really was. Was she ashamed? Or embarrassed? She said she hated Pemberwick, but was that because she hated being the daughter of a lobsterman? Or did she resent the “rich guys” who spent their days playing golf while her dad was out on the ocean pulling lobster traps? The more I learned about Tori Sleeper, the more I wanted to know.

We shot quickly out of town and sped along the winding Memagog Highway, which was a fancy name for the four-lane road that circled the entire island. It was the same road that Quinn and I used for our midnight rides. Every so often the road dipped closer to the shore, where glimpses of the ocean could be caught through the trees. A few times I thought I saw a military ship moving far offshore, but it was hard to get a good look through the dense foliage. It was a sobering thought. Did the Navy have the island surrounded?

We passed a farm where I spotted a familiar structure that I’d seen a thousand times before and never gave a second thought to…until then.

“Silo,” I said aloud without thinking.

It was a tall red-and-white grain silo with a rounded dome that was used to store feed for a small herd of dairy cows. Was that what we were dealing with? Was SYLO doing the same with us? Storing us for some purpose other than what they would admit to? It was a silly thought that I shook off quickly. There was no sense in letting my mind spin to possibilities that didn’t make sense.

After fifteen minutes of butt-numbing, teeth-rattling travel, Tori turned off the highway onto an unpaved road that led toward the shore. The sandy road was packed enough so that we didn’t spin out, but I had to fight to keep my balance as we bounced over the washboard-like surface. Finally, we arrived at our destination: a house that sat on the edge of a quiet salt pond. The place was classic Pemberwick Island, with steel-gray shingles and a porch that wrapped around the three-story structure. There was a narrow yard in back covered with a checkerboard of grass and sand that definitely could have used my dad’s expert touch. Beyond the yard was the water. A dock was built out from the shore that led to a long float where two lobster boats were tied up, bow to stern. It was a tidal pond, which meant the float would rise and fall with the tides.

A man was sitting on the float wearing a plaid shirt, jeans, and a worn Sox cap, working on a lobster trap. The place was classic Maine, like you’d see on a postcard.

Tori got off the scooter and strode toward the house.

“Wait here,” she commanded. She climbed the porch and went right into the house.

I wasn’t about to sit there like some barnacle, so I got off the scooter, dropped my gym bag, and followed. The place was old, but well taken care of. Across from the house was a gray barn that was nearly as big as the house and just as weathered. The expanse between buildings was nothing but hard-packed sand with sprouts of sea grass poking through everywhere. I walked onto the porch but rather than knock on the door, I rounded the house on the porch until I was on the pond side.

Tori had gone through the building and out the back door. She strode quickly across the yard, headed for the dock. It was low tide so the ramp at the end pitched down at a sharp angle. The pond must have been deep because even at low tide the lobster boats were floating. They looked to be twin thirty-five-foot Duffys. Or maybe Beals. Both had white hulls. One had a navy blue wheelhouse; the other was painted bright red. The red boat’s name was painted on the bow in fancy, scrolling letters: Tori Tickle.

Cute.

The blue boat looked to be older. The paint on the white hull was yellowed with age. It was probably the backup vessel. Its name: Patricia.

The guy on the float must have been Tori’s dad because she went right up to him and gave him a big hug. It was the same guy she’d been with when she made the lobster delivery to Lesser’s Fish Market. It felt like a hundred years had gone by since then. I never met the guy but I must have seen him around because he looked familiar.

I had no idea where her mother might be.

Though Quinn and I had spent the summer working on a lobster boat, I didn’t know much about the business end of lobstering. But I knew enough to understand that the only way a lobsterman makes money is by dropping traps and hauling up lobsters. The quarantine was keeping the lobster boats at their docks, which meant none of these guys could work. There was nothing good about this quarantine.

Tori said something to her dad and playfully pushed his cap down over his eyes. It was nice to see that she wasn’t cold toward everybody. At least she liked her father. When she started back toward me, I quickly shot around the porch and went to the scooter. No sooner did I sit down than the front door of the house opened and Tori came out.

“This place is like…classic,” I said. “Where’s the closest house?”

“I told you to wait,” Tori scolded.

Busted.

“I was just looking around,” I replied. “Is that your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gotta be tough,” I said. “Not being able to work his traps.”

“You think?” she snapped angrily, as if I had insulted her.

“Whoa, easy. Just making conversation,” I said defensively. “I work with my dad too.”

“Let’s go,” she said and walked toward the barn.

“Go? We just got here.”

She held up her hand to show me a key on a ring.

“We’re not there yet,” she explained.

Tori opened the barn door and I was hit with the distinct smell of horse.

“You can ride, right?” she asked.

The truth was I had been on horseback a couple of times but to say I could ride was a stretch.

“Sure,” I said, and instantly regretted it.

“Don’t sweat it,” she assured me. “It’s an easy ride, but we can’t take the scooter.”

Made sense, but it didn’t make me any less nervous. If Tori rode horses the way she drove her scooter, I was in trouble.

Tori quickly and expertly saddled two beautiful, golden palominos. It made me think of Quinn’s theory about people and knots. I wondered if the same applied to saddling horses because Tori definitely knew what she was doing.

She handed me the bridle of one, then led the other out of the barn.

“Does he have a name?” I called.

“It’s a she,” she replied.

Oh.

“Then what’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

Tori was starting to annoy me. I looked up into the big brown eyes of the horse that I was about to trust with my life. She looked harmless enough.

“Are we cool?” I asked her.

The horse blinked. I hoped that meant we were cool.

“I gotta call you something so how about…Lassie?”

The horse blinked again. I took that as a yes and led her out of the barn.

Tori was already mounted and waiting. With only a minor amount of awkward struggling, I managed to get my foot into the stirrup and hoist myself aboard.

“Hi-ho Silver,” I said with a smile.

Tori didn’t think that was funny and/or charming. She reined her horse around and started off. With a small kick, Lassie and I followed. Seconds later we were bouncing back along her driveway the way we had come. Lassie was a calm old girl, which was fine by me. Tori led us back toward the highway, but before we reached the main road, we turned onto another sandy road that I hadn’t seen on the way in. This one was less used and the sand was soft, which was why the scooter wouldn’t have worked. The road traveled roughly parallel to the highway while gradually moving closer to the shore.

I trotted up to Tori and we walked side by side.

“You going to tell me what this is all about?” I asked.

“You’ll see when we get there. It isn’t far.”

We walked along in silence, which was making me crazy.

“You know, I’ve known you for four years and I don’t—”

“Five,” she corrected. “We’ve been in school together for five years.”

Oh. That was interesting. I didn’t even think I was on her radar.

“Okay, five years, and all I know about you is that you work with your father and don’t talk much.”

I wasn’t sure if Tori was going to say anything and was about to give up trying to draw her out when she finally spoke.

“That’s all there is to know,” she said flatly. “That’s the trouble with this island.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t you ever get tired of living on a rock?” she asked.

“You mean Pemberwick? Uh, no. I kind of like it here.”

“Well, good for you.”

“That means you don’t?” I asked.

Tori gritted her teeth. She obviously wasn’t used to talking about herself. Or about anything.

“My father works hard,” she said. “He drops traps, pulls out spiders, drops more traps, and argues over prices. That’s his life. He’s a good guy. He deserves more than a bad back and a house that’s falling down.”

“Is that what he thinks?” I asked.

“No, but this is all he knows.”

“What about your mom?”

Tori’s expression turned dark.

“Sorry,” I said. “Don’t mean to be nosy.”

“She left when I was three,” Tori said, suddenly cold. Colder than before. “Never even said goodbye. I’m not sure if I should hate her for bailing on us, or envy her for escaping. I guess maybe I’m more like her than like my dad.”

“That sucks. Where does she live now?”

“I have no idea,” she said with no emotion, as if she couldn’t have cared less. Or at least acting as though she didn’t care.

I was beginning to get the picture of why Tori was so closed up…and hated Pemberwick.

“I wouldn’t do what she did to my dad,” she added. “So maybe I’m not exactly like her. But I wouldn’t hate it if we moved somewhere else and started over.”

“You sound like Quinn,” I said. “He’s ready to blast out of here the first chance he gets.”

“And you’re not?” Tori asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something wrong with me but I like it here. My parents chose to come here and Dad loves his garden—uh, landscaping business. I can see going into business with him someday.”

“And spend your life spreading manure on other people’s flowers?” Tori asked, as if I had said I wanted to be a professional assassin.

“Yeah,” I answered sharply. “Sorry if that doesn’t meet with your approval.”

Tori opened her mouth to say something quickly, but then thought better of it and stopped. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Yeah, you did. Why don’t you cut the mystery. I’m tired and I’m sore and I want to know why the hell you dragged me out here.”

“We’re here,” she said.

We had arrived at a fence with a gate that was shut and padlocked. Tori dismounted and went to unlock it.

“The horses don’t belong to us,” she explained. “Some rich guy pays us to board them so he’s got some toys when he comes out on weekends. Nice, huh?”

“You really resent rich guys, don’t you?” I said sarcastically.

She shot me a cutting look, swung the gate open, then climbed back on her horse and we walked through the gate.

“This whole area is fenced in. I think it may be the biggest parcel of undeveloped land left on Pemberwick. The guy said I should let the horses run free and get as much exercise as they wanted. Nice life.”

“His or the horses?” I asked.

“Both. It’s a great gig for me. I love the horses and ride whenever I want. It’s like they’re mine.”

“But you didn’t name them,” I pointed out.

“Derby,” she said. “Her name is Derby. This one is Racer.”

I patted Derby on the neck. “Sorry, Lassie.”

I thought I saw Tori smile, but it quickly vanished.

“There were two others,” she said softly. “Remi and Nimbus.”

“‘Were’?”

She fell silent and gazed out over the ocean. Her head had gone to another place, just like when we were at the Lobster Pot Festival. I’m not sure what made me finally realize the truth. Maybe it was seeing her on that horse as if she were born to ride. Maybe it was being out there on the bluffs. Or maybe it was the way the tears were growing in her eyes. It was probably all of the above, because in that moment, I understood.

“It was you that night, wasn’t it?” I asked. “You were the one riding on the bluffs when the shadow exploded.”

Tori didn’t answer right away, which was her answer. I looked around to realize we were very close to where we had chased the shadow down.

“It was your dad who spoke to Deputy Donald, right? I thought I recognized him.”

Tori kept her eyes on the ocean and said, “He didn’t want me to get involved. He’s always protecting me. He told them he was the one who got thrown from the horse when the shadow exploded.”

“Did you get hurt?” I asked.

“Just bruises,” she replied, trying to control her emotions. “I know how to fall.”

The image of the massive explosion that silhouetted the rearing horse and rider was one I thought I’d never forget. Now that I knew it was Tori, there was no chance I’d ever forget it.

“So then whose pickup truck was parked on the bluff that night?” I asked. “I thought it belonged to the guy who said he saw the whole thing, but if that was your father and he wasn’t out here, whose truck was it?”

Tori shrugged. “I don’t know. I wondered that myself. When I rode back to my house, it was gone.”

“So maybe there was another witness,” I said.

“Maybe,” Tori agreed.

“You could have told me this sooner,” I said. “I’m not a bad guy.”

Tori finally looked at me with a pained expression that I truly didn’t understand. She was hurting and it wasn’t from being tossed off the horse.

“What did you bring me out here to see?” I asked gently.

Tori took a deep breath and said, “A few days after the explosion, I rode Derby out here to round up the other three. Racer was waiting by the gate. The other two were…”

Her throat convulsed as if she had trouble saying the words. “I saw them coming over that rise,” she said, pointing. “They were galloping. Fast. Like, impossibly fast. I thought it was an optical illusion but they flew by me like they were, well, flying. Saliva was spraying from their mouths and their eyes were wild. They pulled up just beyond that dune and started jumping. Up and down, like bucking broncos.”

She was fighting to keep her emotions in check.

“I didn’t dare get off Derby. I was afraid they’d trample me. So I cautiously walked her over, calling to them, trying to get them to focus on me and calm down. It didn’t work. They were out of control. Their whinnying was horrible, like they were excited and in agony at the same time. Then suddenly they took off together, charging back the way they came.”

I was afraid I knew where this story was going but didn’t interrupt. Tori had to tell it her way.

“I galloped after them but there was no way I could keep up. They were just so fast. Eventually they circled back toward here and—”

The words caught in her throat as tears starting streaming down her cheeks.

“When I got over that rise, I saw them. Both on the ground. Dead. Just like that.”

“Just like Marty,” I said.

“They actually looked like they were at peace. Nimbus had her head on Remi’s belly. Those two loved each other.”

Tori sniffed back tears, then nudged Racer to walk, headed for the shore. I followed on Derby, quietly. After about twenty yards, we came to what looked like a pile of rocks that had washed up from the sea. When we got closer, I saw it for what it really was…two large graves. We stood over them silently.

After a few moments, I couldn’t take it anymore and said, “You think Feit gave them the Ruby?”

Tori’s look turned hard. “Is that what he calls it?”

I nodded and said, “How did he give it to them?”

“He didn’t.”

Tori reined Racer and continued toward the shore. We approached a sandy bluff that led directly down to a small, rocky beach. It was a beautiful view, looking out over the ocean and a brilliant, cloudless sky.

“They found it themselves,” she said and pointed down to the beach.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be seeing. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust and to register the horror that lay below. What at first looked like a beach covered with rocks, wasn’t.

Instead of tide-washed stones, the beach was littered with chunks of red crystal. Most of them were baseball-sized, but some were as big as grapefruits. The larger chunks rested on a bed of smaller, shattered crystals. There had to be a ton of the stuff, just sitting there as if it had washed up like so much sea glass.

It was the Ruby.

“I saw Remi and Nimbus an hour before they died,” she said. “They were down there, grazing. Whatever that wicked stuff is, it turned my horses into demons and then killed them. And now that Feit character is feeding it to people.”

“I took some,” I blurted out, without thinking.

Tori shot me a look of surprise and confusion.

“He said it would improve my performance,” I added. “Serious understatement. I only took a few tiny crystals but the result was incredible. I felt like like…Superman.”

“But you’re okay now,” Tori stated, confused.

“Because I hardly took any. Feit said Marty took too much, and obviously so did the horses. I guess your body can operate in overdrive for just so long before it crashes.” I looked at Tori and said, “You’re the only person I’ve told.”

“What is the stuff?” she asked. “Why is Feit pushing it?”

I got off Derby and walked to the beach where the Ruby was spread out.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe it’s an experiment gone wrong or some new toxic substance or something from Mars, for all I know. Whatever it is, it’s—”

I didn’t finish the sentence because I saw something else on the shore. Something out of the ordinary. Scattered throughout the field of red crystals were chunks of a black material that looked to be anything but natural. They were all sizes and shapes. Some as small as crackers, others the size of dinner plates. I picked one of the larger pieces up to see that it was like a piece of sheet metal, but much lighter, and paper thin. All the pieces were paper thin. It seemed to be made of some kind of plastic, which meant it was definitely man-made.

“I think that stuff washed up with the crystals,” Tori said. “It might be pieces of a boat that was carrying the stuff. Looks like it broke up on the rocks.”

“Smashed up is more like it,” I said. “It was totally destroyed. I mean, there’s nothing left but bits and pieces, like it was…” The words caught in my throat. I looked up to Tori and finished my thought. “Like it was blown up.”

Tori’s eyes went wide as the possibility hit her.

“Like maybe that shadow wasn’t a shadow,” she said, numb.

I quickly put one of the smaller pieces into my pocket, then knelt down, pulled my sleeve over my hand, and picked up a golf-ball-sized chunk of the red crystal. I didn’t want to touch it with my bare skin in case the poison could somehow leach through my pores.

“We’ll bring this stuff to the SYLO compound. This has got to be what they’re looking for. Those CDC brains can analyze it and—”

The sound of a speedboat powering up cut me off. We both looked up to see a high-speed cigarette boat blasting away from the island, headed out to sea.

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

“There are private docks up and down the coast,” Tori replied.

After watching the speeding boat for another few seconds, I said, “I think he’s making a run for it.”

The boat had huge twin outboard engines that churned up the water. Only one person was on board, standing at the wheel.

“What’s that sound?” I asked.

Tori listened. “All I hear is the boat. What does it sound like? Wait—I hear it.”

It sounded like the sharp, tearing sound of a jet engine. It quickly grew louder, which meant it was drawing nearer. Fast. Tori and I both looked back over the island and saw a slim, streaking shape flying high overhead. It had short stubby wings and a rounded nose. The thing was moving so fast it was hard to focus on, and it was headed out to sea.

“Oh my God,” I said with a gasp.

“What is it?” Tori screamed.

I didn’t have to answer. A few short seconds later my fear came true. The streaking shape was a missile. It tore by overhead, zeroing in on its target.

“Is that—?”

The missile hit the cigarette boat and exploded into a ball of fire. It took a few seconds for the sound to reach us, but when it did, it was deafening. The horses panicked and reared back. It was all I could do to hang on to Derby. The impact point had to be half a mile out to sea, but I felt a wave of heat wash over us. That’s how intense the explosion was as the boat’s gas tanks ignited.

“Easy! Easy!” I commanded Derby.

We both got our horses under control and turned our attention back to the water. The only thing left of the cigarette boat and its skipper were a few pieces of smoking wreckage. I looked back to the sky, wondering where the missile might have come from, and saw the dark speck of a military helicopter flying back inland.

“This can’t be happening,” Tori said, her voice shaking.

“Attention!” came an amplified voice.

We looked up the coastline to see a military Jeep with a SYLO soldier standing in the passenger side, holding a megaphone.

“Do not move,” he commanded. “Hold your position.”

“No way,” I said.

“What do you mean, no way?” Tori cried. “They’re the good guys.”

“Really? Well the good guys just blew somebody out of the water. I don’t care why they’re here. That’s murder.”

I climbed onto Derby’s back and slapped the reins on her butt. The old horse still had life and charged forward. I had no idea if I could even stay on the back of a galloping horse, but at that moment I would rather have taken my chances with her than with an army of murderers, no matter whose side they said they were on.