Storm

NINETEEN

The crowd applauded as Granger did his best to look humble. “Show’s over,” he said. “As you were.”

His people may have been off duty, but he still gave them orders. The crowd dispersed, and I realized I was the only one standing there, still staring at him. I quickly moved away, hovering close to a tent that held a baseball toss game.

I was beyond being surprised by anything anymore. Though I needed to see him to be sure, I’d known in my heart that Granger was alive the moment I heard his voice booming from that drone aircraft. Seeing him brought back so many memories. None of them were good. My hands started shaking. I had to clasp them together to stop from jittering. The last thing I needed was to let my emotions control me.

I needed time to think and plan my next move, but I had to be ready for anything. Half of my mission was already complete. I had seen Granger. The SYLO commander.

His presence on Pemberwick set the wheels in motion for Quinn to die.

He had turned my parents against me.

He was an enemy.

He was a murderer.

I had promised myself that if I found him, I would kill him. Would killing a soldier in a war zone be murder? I guess that depended on who was doing the killing. Was it justifiable homicide for a civilian to take out a soldier who destroyed his life? I was going to find out. But to succeed, I had to be cold and calculating. I had to be like Granger.

The SYLO commander strolled away from the high-striker game in no particular hurry. I trailed him, staying far enough behind to go unnoticed. I used other people to shield me from his view, while trying not to look like, well, like I was following him. Granger walked casually with his hands clasped behind his back and his posture impossibly straight. He surveyed each ride, food cart, and game as he passed, looking them up and down like he was on an inspection tour. At one point he stopped next to one of the tall metal cones. He reached out and touched it, running his hand along the metallic surface as if admiring its workmanship. His casual inspection tour reminded me of the way he strolled among the bullet-riddled bodies of Tori’s father and the other rebels on Chinicook Island, casually examining the victims of his ruthless attack. He showed no remorse or sympathy, and then he ordered his soldiers to torch the woods where we were hiding. I felt the weight of the gun pressing against my back. Killing Granger would go a long way toward getting revenge for what had happened on Pemberwick. But was I willing to sacrifice myself to do it? This bizarre carnival was in a secure military base loaded with armed soldiers. If I managed to put a bullet into Granger, several more bullets would soon be entering me. Not only would it be suicide, there would probably be other casualties. More innocent people would die in the cross fire. Some could be kids. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to get Granger alone.

He suddenly stopped walking and pulled a phone from his belt. Apparently SYLO not only had power, they had cell service.

Granger listened for a few seconds and then reacted physically to whatever he was hearing over the phone. He tensed up and glanced around as if looking for something. Or someone.

Had he been alerted that he was being stalked? I ducked behind one of the metallic teepees and cautiously peered at him. Granger turned and hurried away. My guess was that he was looking for a quiet place to talk. With the phone to his ear, he hurried past the furthest tent, away from the carnival and out into the dark beyond.

He was alone. I had my chance.

I followed quickly but not at a dead sprint. I didn’t want to attract attention. When I left the lights of the carnival, I had trouble seeing in the dark. I had to follow the sound of Granger’s voice as he shouted at the phone.

“Details!” he demanded. “I don’t want speculation. I want facts.” He was definitely worked up about something.

“No,” he barked with authority. “Not until we have confirmation. Are you in contact with the AWACs?”

He was still moving. Fast. Every so often I’d catch a fleeting glimpse of him as he appeared from behind one of the cones before disappearing behind another. A few seconds went by without me hearing him. Was the conversation over? Where was he going? I had no choice but to keep moving in the same direction and hope I’d spot him again. I rounded one of the cones…

…and came face-to-face with him.

He had turned around and was headed back toward the carnival. Granger stopped short. I saw a brief look of confusion cross his eyes. I was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place me. Those few seconds of confusion gave me the time I needed. I reached behind my back, pulled out the Glock, and held it on him, keeping it steady with two hands.

“Tucker Pierce,” he said, finally recognizing me.

“Why aren’t you dead?” I asked.

Granger was on full alert, though he didn’t look as scared as he should have, considering he was facing a gun held by a squirrely guy with a chip on his shoulder.

He said, “That was quite the stunt you pulled, navigating between those two burning ships. That took guts.”

“I saw your boat explode.”

“It did. I wasn’t on board. The commander was willing to chase you into that inferno, but wouldn’t risk my life. He shoved me overboard before turning into that flaming gauntlet. The entire crew was killed.”

“Did you order him to follow us?” I asked.

“I did.”

“Then you should have been with them,” I said with disdain. “Agreed. But I wasn’t, and so here we are. Will you be shooting me?”

“That’s the plan.”

The only sign of stress that Granger showed was with his cell phone. He kept spinning it in his hand. He was far more concerned with the news he had gotten over the phone than with me. “You’re a long way from home,” Granger said calmly, gesturing to his left.

He was pointing to a building that stood a few hundred yards from us. It was a large but squat two-story structure made of light colored cement. It looked like a fortified bunker with windows. I had no doubt that it was the famous gold repository. “Why are you here?” I asked. “Why Fort Knox? Is it about the gold, or the vault?”

Granger lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re a smart kid,” he said, though it sounded more like an insult than a compliment. “Gold is going to be the foundation for a new monetary system. Or so they tell me. That kind of business is way above my pay grade. I’m just a simple soldier.”

“Is that why SYLO has so much firepower here?” I asked. “To protect the gold?”

“To protect the future,” he replied. “Are you enjoying the carnival? We’re trying to make it as pleasant here as we can.”

“Really? Pleasant? SYLO is putting on a carnival while trying to destroy mankind?”

His eyes went wide, and for the first time since I’d met the guy… he smiled. It was small, but it was real.

“I see you’ve been spending time with the Retros,” he said. “The what?”

“The Retros. That’s what we call ’em. The black planes. The Ruby. The genocide. They’re accusing us of trying to bring about the end of days, so what do they do? They wipe out two-thirds of the planet’s population. Does that make any kind of sense to you?”

“They said we needed to start over. To reset.”

“And you believe that?” he asked, incredulous.

“I don’t know what to believe!” I screamed with frustration. He thought he had an opening and took a step toward me. I lifted the gun to his face.

“Stop!” I commanded.

He did.

“I’m scared as hell,” I said, “and I hate your guts, so take one more step and I swear to God I’ll put a bullet in your head.” It was strong talk… that I knew I couldn’t back up. Granger knew it too. All I had to do was pull the trigger… but I couldn’t.

I didn’t know it for sure until that moment. I wasn’t a killer, no matter how badly I wanted him dead. I think the only reason he didn’t attack me was to avoid being shot by accident.

“You’re backing the wrong horse, son,” he said calmly. “I’m not backing anybody! All I see is the Air Force battling the Navy in a civil war that’s killed billions of people. For what? What’s the point? Explain it to me.”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

“You… what? You invaded my home, murdered dozens of people, turned my parents against me, tried to shoot me out of the water, and you don’t trust me?”

Granger leaned forward. I lifted the gun until the site was centered between his eyes.

“You should have listened to your mother,” he said without flinching.

That threw me.

“My mother?”

“She warned you not to trust anyone, yet here you are, holding a gun on the bad old soldier man you think is the cause of all the problems. How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

I had to grip the gun tighter to keep my hands from shaking. “Maybe you’re too young to understand, but they’re using you, son. Those Retros are like termites. You don’t know they’re in the walls, eating the wood, until your house falls down.”

“Nobody’s using me to do anything,” I argued lamely. “Then go give those bastards a message. From me. Tell ’em we’re not done. Far from it. Tell ’em to go ahead and try to build another one of their monstrosities. Soon as they do, we’ll blow it to dust again, just like in Boston.”

His words rocked me.

“Boston,” I repeated, numb. “What was that thing? What were they building?”

“A gate to hell,” he said with disdain. “They already got one, we won’t let ’em get another.”

My mind was spinning, desperately trying to make sense of what this guy was telling me.

“Another? They have a gate to hell?”

“For now,” Granger said cockily. “They think it’s protected, but we’ll get that one too. It’s only a matter of time. We’re going to send those devils back to where they came from.”

There was a crazy fire in his eyes that terrified me.

“Where is this gate?” I asked.

“Middle of nowhere,” he replied. “Mojave Desert. They think they can protect it out there. They can’t. I want you to tell them that.”

“No!” I shouted, backing off. “There’s nobody to tell. I’m not with them.”

Granger laughed. “If you don’t want to listen to your mother, listen to me. You gotta be careful about the company you keep.” His hand flashed forward, and he grabbed the muzzle of the Glock. I wasn’t fast enough to react as he yanked it out of my hand.

He then grabbed the walkie-talkie from my belt.

“You tell ’em,” he said. “Let ’em know we’re coming.”

“Let who know?” I asked, pleading. “Feit? He’s in Boston. I don’t know any other Retros.”

Granger looked at the walkie-talkie and laughed.

“We have no beef with you, kid.”

“Then why were you trying to kill me on Pemberwick Island?”

“I wasn’t,” he said with a shrug. “Can’t say the same about your friends.”

“Wha—what do you mean?”

“I told you,” Granger said. “They’re like termites. You don’t know they’re in your house until it’s too late.”

I was reeling. Of all the things I had seen and heard, this was the most disturbing of all… and the most impossible. “Are you saying my friends are Retros? That’s crazy!” The wailing sound of a siren drowned out the carnival noise. “What is that?” I asked.

“Damn! I guess they really are coming,” Granger snarled. “Who? Who’s coming?”

Granger shoved the walkie-talkie into my chest and tossed the gun away behind him.

“Do the right thing,” he said. “Don’t make me regret letting you go.”

With that he took off running toward the gold repository building.

The siren continued to wail.

“Wait! What’s going on?”

The carnival suddenly went dark. So did the floodlights that had been lighting up the vault building. I was left in near pitch dark. The fort had gone still. The calliope was silent. The rides had stopped. Not a single word or shout or hint of laughter came from the carnival grounds.

The siren ended its wail.

It had become deathly quiet.

That’s when I heard it.

The music from the sky.

The black planes were back.