Besides, no matter what had happened, she was still my mom. I hadn’t yet forgiven my mother and father for the lies they told me about why we had moved to Pemberwick Island, but I was open to try to understand. Though our fingers were several feet apart, the contact was made. I raised my hand and pointed my finger toward her. Then again, maybe facing the imminent end of the world made me the exact kind of fourteen-year-old who should be doing that kind of stuff. especially one who has been through as many battles as I had. A fourteen-year-old doesn’t do that kind of stuff. I don’t remember the last time we had done it, or at least the last time I acknowledged my mother when she did it. We would touch index fingers as a way to say “I love you.” It was veryE.T., but it meant a lot to me when I was a kid. It was a gesture we had done with my dad for as long as I could remember. When she saw that I was looking her way, she lifted her right hand and held out her index finger. Mom leaned back with her head pressed into her seat to try to keep herself stable. His head was pressed against the fuselage in a desperate attempt to maintain his equilibrium. My head spun and my stomach twisted, but I wasn’t complaining. The move pulled me out of my seat, straining the harness. The last thing he wanted to do was travel in a straight line, allowing the ground cannons to anticipate our course. The tension in his voice proved that he was flying his ass off to try to keep us alive.Ĭutter banked hard to the right and nosedived, intentionally. The guy remained cool, but not that cool. The civil war that had these two forces going at each other was definitely an unfair fight. Though they were both branches of the United States military, the Air Force had a serious technological advantage. The blasts were only one example of the impossible technology the Air Force possessed. Their weapons fired invisible yet powerful bursts of energy that worked silently but with no less destructive force than a rocket-propelled explosive. The Retro forces weren’t shooting conventional missiles. The chopper shuddered and we were thrown violently against our harnesses as the craft pitched to our right, but we stayed airborne and under control.
“Skyhawks aren’t attack birds,” Granger replied sharply. “Why aren’t we shooting back?” Mom said calmly into her microphone. The helicopter was buffeted by another shot fired from the ground. “Help is incoming,” Cutter announced casually as if he had just said, “Looks like rain.” At the controls was the marine commando named Cutter, who was doing his best to keep us flying. what? The ground? The Retro forces down below that were shooting at us? A miracle swooping in from the heavens?Īll four of us wore headphones that connected us with the cockpit where Captain Granger, the SYLO commander, sat strapped into the copilot’s seat. He twisted left and right, struggling to look out of the window and get a glimpse of. He clutched the straps of his safety harness as if that would do any good if we slammed into the ground. Kent, on the other hand, looked wide-eyed and frantic. I didn’t think for a second that she wasn’t as terrified as the rest of us, but her expression seemed to be one of, I don’t know, resignation? It was almost as though she had accepted the fact that the Retro forces on the ground would shoot us out of the sky and there was no use stressing about it. The helicopter’s rotors whined as we lifted back into the sky. “Gee, you think?” Kent Berringer said sarcastically. “Get us outta here!” Captain Granger screamed at him through our headphones. The wild spinning stopped a moment later. It was as if a heavy weight had been dropped into my lap and was pushing me back into the seat. “It can’t end like this,” Tori said with surprising calm. All we could do was huddle together and brace for the inevitable. It was too dark outside to see what our altitude was, or when the impact might come.
She clutched my arm for whatever comfort it might give. Reaching to my right I grabbed hold of Tori’s leg. On the other side sat Kent Berringer and my mother, Stacy Pierce. I sat shoulder to shoulder with Tori Sleeper on one side of the craft. Six of us were trapped in a military helicopter that was under attack, spinning out of control and headed for the ground. Not words you wanted to hear from a pilot who has your life in his hands. lives with his family in Southern California.
Sylo chronicles series#
MacHale is the author of the bestselling book series Pendragon: Journal of an Adventure through Time and Space, the spooky Morpheus Road trilogy, and the whimsical picture book The Monster Princess. He has written, directed, and produced numerous award-winning television series and movies for young people including Are You Afraid of the Dark?, Flight 29 Down, and Tower of Terror.
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