Strike (24 page)

The officers turned off their recording devices and stood.

“Now what?” I said.

“Obviously we will have to discuss this,” one officer said. “Please remain here for the time being.”

With that they headed for the door.

“Don’t take your time,” I said.

They opened the door to leave, and another soldier entered carrying a tray of food. I’d never met the guy, but I loved him on sight. I was starving and still beyond thirsty. He put the tray down on the table and said, “I’ll be right outside. If you want anything else, call me.”

“Thanks,” I said and sat down to chow.

It was just like Thanksgiving dinner. Turkey and mashed potatoes and all the other goodies. I was in heaven. I also noted that they had given me a metal fork and knife. It was a small thing, but it proved they didn’t consider me a threat. I ate, too fast, and loved every second of it. Once I was done I was left not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to risk going outside. I didn’t want to do anything that would go against what they told me to do. It was crazy, but the future of our world could very well depend on our ability to convince these people that we knew what we were talking about. That was a scary thought.

I must have waited there for an hour either nervously tapping my foot or pacing. I kept telling myself that the SYLO honchos were taking us seriously and were meeting to discuss what they were going to do. That wouldn’t happen quickly. You don’t launch a massive attack on a whim.

I did everything I could to burn energy and stay inside my own skin. I did push-ups and sit-ups. I counted the cracks in the floor. I licked the lunch plate a dozen times just to make sure I got every drop of gravy-goodness. Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided to go outside and ask the guard what was going on.

I had gotten halfway across the floor to the door, when it opened.

Stepping into the room was Captain Granger.

“Hello Mr. Pierce,” he said, all business.

I think my draw dropped. Literally.

“You . . . you’re not dead,” I mumbled.

“Not yet,” he said with no hint of irony.

He held an iPad that he was reading from. I assumed it showed transcripts from our interviews. He walked to one end of the long table, the end without the dirty plates, and sat.

“What happened to you?” I asked. “After the crash, I mean.”

Without taking his eyes off of the iPad he said, “I was unconscious, so I can only go by what I’ve been told. Another Skyhawk came in to rescue survivors. They were only on the ground for a few moments when they came under heavy fire. They only had time to pull out one survivor.”

“So they chose their boss,” I said.

Granger went back to his reading. I paced, desperately wanting him to say something.

“The future sucks, you know,” I finally said. “They blame us. You, me, everybody who came before them. Part of me understands why they’re trying to get the hell out.”

“So you agree with their methods?” he asked.

“No,” I said quickly. “But if I could press a button and wipe out every last one of them, I’d do it. Does that make me any different than them?”

“It makes you human,” Granger said. “As for the morality of it all, that call has to be made by somebody with a much higher pay grade than me.”

“How could this have happened?” I said. “The Bridge was open for decades. Why didn’t anybody do something? We saw what was coming.”

He finally put the iPad down and looked at me. “I’m not a politician. I’m not a sociologist or a psychologist. And I am far from a scientist. I’m a simple soldier. The circumstances that led us to this place are beyond my comprehension.”

“How long have you known? About the Bridge, I mean.”

“Ten years. That’s about the time when the idea for SYLO was born. The way I understand it, from the very beginning there was tension between the governments of the present and the future. It made the Cold War pale by comparison. The future government pushed to have its existence revealed. They felt if the people of the past knew what they were creating, they would choose a different course. The present government resisted, for fear it would tear apart the fabric of society. The only reason they were able to keep the situation under wraps was because the Bridge was so isolated. All of those alien spaceship theories about Area 51 weren’t far from wrong. They just missed it by sixty-five miles.”

“So the present government ignored the truth?” I asked.

“No, but they were fighting a losing battle. Over the years only a small group of scientists were allowed to study the twenty-fourth century. The movement to develop renewable energy and to reduce greenhouse gases, even the push to recycle, began because they saw what was coming. But they couldn’t battle against the tide of commerce. People complained the government was trying to rule their lives. The bottom line was the bottom line. Money. And yes, the various administrations and governments kid themselves into believing the small efforts that were being made would be enough to avoid the nightmare that the future had become. The truth is, we still don’t know. We won’t know until we get there.”

“Because changing the past won’t affect a future that already exists,” I said.

“Exactly. Once that became known, the die was cast. When the future government realized that nothing we did could actually help them, they prepared to invade.”

“And we knew about it?” I asked.

“No, we suspected it,” Granger replied. “Every movement of our scientists in the twenty-fourth century was suddenly controlled and monitored. We witnessed signs of an immense military buildup. We asked to inspect various manufacturing areas and were refused. We were given the rationale that the United States of the future needed to build up their military in order to defend themselves against the other six countries they were at war with.”

“But they were really preparing to invade the past,” I said.

Granger nodded. “That’s what we feared and that’s why SYLO was born.”

“
Sequentia yconomus libertate te ex inferis obedianter
,” I said. “These guardians obediently protect us from the gates of hell.”

“Or something like that,” Granger said with a dismissive huff. “I didn’t come up with that. The decision was made to create smaller communities that we had a better chance of defending. Arks, if you will. Over a ten-year period we chose volunteers to populate these arks. We selected people from all walks of life with different areas of expertise. Doctors, engineers, architects, musicians, pretty much every skill and talent that needed to be preserved was represented, along with every race and religion.”

“My father is a civil engineer,” I said. “My mother is an accountant. Quinn’s parents were doctors.”

“Hundreds of people quietly volunteered to uproot their lives and move to an ark. The idea was that if the Retros ever attacked, we would need them in order to rebuild our world.”

“When SYLO came to Pemberwick, you must have known the attack was imminent,” I said.

“It was more than imminent,” Granger said. “It was underway. The Retros finally made their move to come through the Bridge. I showed you the aftermath of that battle from the air.”

“All those wrecked aircraft surrounding the dome,” I said. “They were trying to keep the Retro planes from coming through.”

“They failed,” Granger said. “The battle lasted for over a week. Once we realized it was hopeless, we activated the arks. That’s when SYLO landed on Pemberwick Island and here on Catalina and Fort Knox and a dozen other places. These arks were to be our last stand. But even that plan was flawed when we realized how many Retro spies had infiltrated them. You may have thought my methods were ruthless on Pemberwick Island, and they were, but I was doing all that I could to protect the ark.”

I sat listening, letting this all sink in. Everything that Granger said fit. Every last piece of the puzzle had come together.

“And that brings us to today, and what you and your friends have learned,” Granger said. “I believe I know you, Tucker Pierce. I shudder to think that I nearly caused your death.”

“Yeah, about a dozen times,” I said.

“What I’m saying is I believe you. I believe Sleeper and Berringer as well. Do you know for an absolute fact that the Retros are preparing a second-wave invasion?”

“I do,” I said with confidence. “It could be as soon as tonight. We saw a dozen of those monster planes lined up on the other side of the bridge, ready to come through. They’re going to wait for nightfall and finish the job. First the cities, then the population at large.”

Granger nodded thoughtfully.

“This Major Brock who came back with you,” Granger said. “He is an impressive young man.”

“All the Sounders are,” I said. “They formed an underground network that is ready to fight back. Olivia Kinsey is a Sounder. You should shudder to think that you almost killed her, too.”

Granger ignored that comment and said, “Do these Sounders realize that if they succeed in their plan to destroy the Bridge, they’re ultimately committing suicide?”

“They do. That’s how strongly they feel about stopping the invasion. They’re planning to detonate an atomic device in the dome at six o’clock. Sharp. I believe they can do it, but only if the dome on this side of the Bridge is protected.”

Granger stood and paced. It was the most nervous I’d ever seen him, except for maybe when he got the word at Fort Knox that an attack was imminent. Or when our helicopter was plummeting to earth.

“We’ve had a plan in place to stage a ground attack on the test site for years. But it was never carried about because of the drones. We simply cannot stand up to them.”

“Unless the Sounders take them out of play,” I said.

Granger’s eyes lit up. The idea that the drones could be stopped was like an impossible dream come true.

“We didn’t know about the Sounders,” he said. “We had suspicions. Even hopes. But we never had conclusive evidence that there were forces within the Retros that could help us bring them down . . . until now.”

“So does that mean you’ll attack?” I asked.

Granger sat on the edge of the table and rubbed his face. The guy suddenly looked a hundred years old. I guess fighting a war will do that to you. He looked at me and chuckled. He actually chuckled.

“If a superior officer told me they were going to put our troops in harm’s way based on information brought to him by a bunch of kids, I’d immediately call for his removal and court-martial, not to mention a psychiatric evaluation.”

“But you aren’t crazy,” I said.

“Sometimes I wonder,” he said, wistfully. “But there is one thing I do know: We’re losing this war. SYLO has failed. All we’ve managed to do is prolong the inevitable. It won’t matter if the Retros choose tonight to launch another attack or next week or next year. They hold all the cards. Two of the arks have already fallen. Three others are barely holding on. It really is only a matter of time before they take complete control and wipe out every last hint that our time, our society, ever existed.”

It took everything I had not to ask him about Pemberwick Island, and my father.

Granger looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. “You’re a hell of a kid, you know that? All three of you are. I wish I could have met the Kinsey girl, knowing what I know now.”

“Without shooting at her, you mean?”

We stared at each other for several seconds.

“Six o’clock just keeps on getting closer,” I said.

The door to the building opened behind me. Granger looked up and did something I never expected. He stood up straight, like a soldier at attention.

I had no idea what he was doing, until I turned around to see who had walked into the room. When I saw him, I jumped up too.

It was a guy whose face I had only seen on TV. The last time was when he was explaining to the world how Pemberwick Island needed to be quarantined. It suddenly made sense why the defenses around Catalina Island were much stronger than anywhere else.

President Richard E. Neff was there.

He looked exactly as he did on TV, though maybe a little older. His short gray hair had become grayer and his eyes looked tired. He wore jeans and a windbreaker. Not exactly presidential attire.

“Relax son,” he said with an easy smile. “I just wanted to meet the fella who has been causing all the stir.”

He walked up to me with his hand out to shake.

“I’m Richard,” he said warmly.

I shook his hand and mumbled, “I . . . I’m Tucker.”

“I am very pleased to meet you, Tucker.”

After shaking my hand he sat on the edge of the table and glanced at Granger’s iPad.

“I’ve heard your story, Tucker,” he said. “I’ve heard all of your stories. You’ve had quite the adventure.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I said.

Neff chuckled. “That’s exactly what Tori said.”

That didn’t surprise me.

“I have complete faith in Captain Granger and those in his command,” Neff said. “But the decision about where we go from here rests with me. I need to ask you one question.”

“Anything, sure,” I said eagerly.

“Can the Sounders do this?”

I started to answer quickly, but stopped. This wasn’t some random question that I could offer a quick opinion on. If these people believed me, if the president of the United States believed me, we would be responsible for sending an army into battle. People would die. Lots of people. These words would be the most important I had ever spoken in my life.

“I can’t say that for sure, sir,” I said thoughtfully. “It’s not that I question them, or don’t believe they have the ability, it’s just that I’m not an expert. Anything can happen. But if you’re asking me if I believe the Sounders are going to put their lives on the line to destroy the Bridge and take control of the drones, then my answer is yes. They’ll do it, or die trying.”

The president nodded thoughtfully.

“There’s something else I can say for sure,” I added.

“What’s that?” the president asked.

“Unless you’ve got something brilliant up your sleeve that I don’t know about, the Sounders are our only chance. Our last chance.”