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Sam sprints us over the dark lawn toward the back of the property. There are other people out here ru
“Over here,” Sam calls quietly.
I don’t know why he’s bothering with stealth. The world has gone insane around us. People are shouting, horns are blaring, lights flash in every direction.
He leads us up to the fence, then without looking back to see if we’re following, climbs it like a crazed monkey. He’s up and over in only a few seconds, taking any thoughts I may have had about these people possibly going soft right over with him. I glance at the boys, feeling like it was a challenge. One I’m not sure we can rise to but I’m sure as hell go
I take a couple of steps back, then launch myself at the fence. I tune it all out – the noises, the fear, the stress of the moment, all of it. I focus only on getting over the fence and to the other side without tearing my clothes any more than I already have and without landing on my face on the other side. I’m gri
Ryan and Trent clear the fence, though I’m pleased to see Trent struggle a little bit. Mr. Roboto isn’t perfectly agile. It’s good to know.
Once we’re all together again, Sam runs us to the west along the shore. It’s not long before I spot it – our ill-fated, ill painted Hive boat. I wish they’d burned it. I’m with Ryan on this one; Marlow isn’t getting that thing back in one piece.
“There it is,” Sam breathes, halting not far from the pier. “Take it and go. Get clear of the buoys as quick as you can, but steer clear of the Colony ships too.”
“What the hell are the buoys for?” Ryan asks, sounding a
Then he gets one. Just as I’m pointing to the boats cutting through the water and closing in fast, the night explodes in light and sound. It comes from behind us inside the island, then it cuts across the sky like a comet ripping through the night. It’s huge, angry and it’s on fire. It lands near one of the boats, missing it by mere feet. Then another one launches not far behind it. This one arcs a little higher, crossing the water a little bit farther and then it co
“That’s what they’re for,” Sam tells him. “Now go and stay away—“
“From the buoys, yeah. Got it,” Ryan agrees. He puts out his hand to Sam who takes it and pulls him into a quick hug, both of them slapping the other on the back twice hard. “Thanks, man. Take care.”
“Yeah, you too. Good luck out there.”
When Sam is gone, ru
“So, I don’t get it. What are the buoys exactly?” I ask, climbing in.
Ryan helps Trent untie us then starts hoisting a sail. “They’re distance markers. They let the people firing know how far out the boats are so they shoot more accurately.”
“What are they shooting? Ca
“Trebuchet,” Trent says, taking the rudder. We slowly begin moving across the water, his eyes watching the buoys and boats carefully. There are a lot of them in the way, in between us and open water. Safety. This is going to be tricky. “It’s like a catapult. It has a long sling arm with weight on the other end. When the weight drops, it shoots the arm up which drags the sling and flings whatever weapon you loaded in it toward your target.”
“From the looks of it,” Ryan says eyeing the burning boat, “they’re using burning oil or tar.”
“Maybe they figured out the secret to Greek Fire,” Trent whispers reverently.
I look at him in surprise. “What’s Greek Fire?”
He shrugs. “No one knows what it was exactly, but it burned on water. Scientists tried for ages to figure it out but they could never recreate it. Maybe returning to medieval methods of warfare has made people more resourceful than a curious scientist in a lab coat.”
“Can’t be it,” Ryan says, sounding disappointed. “It’s going out when it hits the water.”
“Damn,” Trent mutters.
“Okay, but whatever it is,” I say, pulling them out of their fanboy funk, “we need to avoid it. I don’t think the people operating the treb… the things are going to be picky about hitting us.”
“Trebuchet, and you’re right,” Ryan agrees. “Should we drop the sail? Float inconspicuous?”
“No,” Trent tells him, sitting up straighter. “Because we’ve just been spotted. We need to get out of here.”
One of the Colony boats is closing in on us, probably mistaking us for a strike from the Vashons. It’s large and long, what used to be used to ferry people back and forth between the island and different parts of the bay, I think. It’s hulking, rusting hull is barreling down on us, the water breaking noisily in an angry white froth ahead of it. Trent guides us in the opposite direction which also happens to be straight into the fight. Right into the line of fire. There are tons of ships and buoys around us, every one of them a big red flag full of nope.
More fireballs rain from the sky. I can hear it coming and I duck, although what good could it really do. The missile hits the bow of the ship chasing us. It erupts in flames that I can feel as well as hear. More shouts, much louder now that they’re closer, rip through the night. The cold air superheated on one side of me while the other side is covered in goose bumps.
“Get us out of here, Trent!” Ryan cries, sca
“Yeah, cause I wasn’t already trying.”
We slip between two large ships, more ferries I think, and I look up, worried they’ll drop buckets of burning oil on us the way the Vashons are firing on them. Luckily, we continue to be ignored. They have bigger problems than us. The Vashons are seriously destroying them. As far as I can tell, there’s only one ship not engulfed in flames. The one on our right that’s passing by us, heading for a green buoy.
“Guys, what was the first buoy we saw? Was it green? Was that the farthest out?” I ask breathlessly, daring to hope we’re in the clear.
“No, it was pink, then—“
The boat beside us explodes in flames that spill over the sides, scorching hot in the cold water around us. I duck down, covering my head with my hands and I feel Ryan throw himself on top of me. There’s screaming and shouting from above us, Ryan shouting beside my head to Trent.
“The sail! The sail!”
“I can’t put it out!”
“Trent, duck!”
The boat rocks violently to one side. Ryan and I bang against the hull, water pouring in and drenching my pants. Then the ship tilts even farther, heat rising on what little exposed flesh I have, then it’s dark, silent and icy cold as death. The boat has capsized. We’re in the water.
I can’t feel Ryan anywhere near me so I kick to the surface, desperate to find him. When I break the water, I’m alone. The boat is upside down, its algae stained hull exposed to the air and fire and stars. For a brief moment as the flames flare up on the boat beside me, I can see the small hornet drawn on the rudder. The one Ali told us about.
“Double crossing Captain Hook,” I growl.
I will kill that man if given the chance.