SYLO (THE SYLO CHRONICLES) Read Online Free
Author: D.J. MacHale
feet. I fell back, getting my feet twisted in my bike and landing on my butt. Still, I kept my eyes open to see what was happening. If I had had a few seconds to think, I probably would have run for cover, but it all happened too fast to think.
Like an exploding firework, thousands of dazzling sparkler-like particles spread across the sky. They hovered for a moment then fell to the ocean. Seconds later the fiery storm hit the water, extinguishing each and every bit of light. The event lasted no more than fifteen seconds. Once again, it was dark. The shadow was gone. The music was gone. I couldn’t even see if the horseback rider was still on the bluff. The only sign left of what we had witnessed was the ringing in my ears.
I turned to Quinn. He looked as stunned as I felt. He gave me a wide-eyed look through his glasses and goggles…and smiled.
“Well, there’s that,” he said with a shrug.
Under other circumstances I might have laughed.
“This has been the freakin’ longest night of my life,” I said with dismay.
“Yeah,” he replied. “And it’s not over yet.”
THREE
I t’s amazing how much action you can generate by punching three simple digits into a cell phone: 9-1-1.
The quiet solitude of the desolate shoreline was once again disrupted by a blinding white light and a sound so loud that it rattled my teeth, only this time it was explainable.
A Coast Guard helicopter hovered low over the ocean with its searchlight sweeping the water, looking for…what? We didn’t know. Charging in to join the search was a Coast Guard rescue craft out of Portland. I could see its lights from a few miles off as it sped our way. On land were two Jeeps from the sheriff’s department with their blue hazard lights flashing. Rounding out the spectacle were two more cars, SUVs, that belonged to my parents and Quinn’s.
Right after the explosion, Quinn and I debated what we should do. Calling in the authorities meant calling in our parents and a possible end to our midnight rides. As much as we didn’t want to have to face their wrath, it didn’t take long to make a decision. This was too huge to keep quiet.
Twenty minutes later the two Jeeps arrived with their sirens wailing and lights flashing. I was impressed, considering that the sheriff and his deputy must have been asleep when they got the calls. It’s not like there’s a whole lot of criminal activity on Pemberwick. Those guys mostly dealt with tourists who got dumb when they drank too much beer or kids who raced around the island in their parents’ cars.
Shortly after the sheriff arrived, the Coast Guard chopper flew in, which meant the sheriff didn’t want to handle this alone. Smart move. I’d met Sheriff Laska a few times and he seemed like an okay guy, though not exactly a highly trained crimestopper. He was overweight…okay, fat…which didn’t matter much because it wasn’t like he ever had to chase down fleeing perps. The most chasing he ever did was with a beer after a buttery lobster roll.
Deputy Donald wasn’t any more impressive. He looked like he had graduated high school last week. He was a little guy who wore his sheriff uniform really tight, like some badass state trooper. Maybe he thought it made him look bigger. I think it just made him look like he was wearing a Halloween costume that didn’t fit anymore. I wasn’t even sure if Donald was his first name or his last. They were both good guys but not crack detectives. I was glad that they had called in the Coast Guard.
When Laska and Donald got there, they instantly separated Quinn and me. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to realize they wanted us each to separately give our version of what had happened to see if the stories matched. Laska questioned me and Donald took Quinn. I told the sheriff everything with as much detail as I could remember. The only tricky question came when he asked me whywe were riding our bikes out there in the middle of the night. But I had a good answer
Like an exploding firework, thousands of dazzling sparkler-like particles spread across the sky. They hovered for a moment then fell to the ocean. Seconds later the fiery storm hit the water, extinguishing each and every bit of light. The event lasted no more than fifteen seconds. Once again, it was dark. The shadow was gone. The music was gone. I couldn’t even see if the horseback rider was still on the bluff. The only sign left of what we had witnessed was the ringing in my ears.
I turned to Quinn. He looked as stunned as I felt. He gave me a wide-eyed look through his glasses and goggles…and smiled.
“Well, there’s that,” he said with a shrug.
Under other circumstances I might have laughed.
“This has been the freakin’ longest night of my life,” I said with dismay.
“Yeah,” he replied. “And it’s not over yet.”
THREE
I t’s amazing how much action you can generate by punching three simple digits into a cell phone: 9-1-1.
The quiet solitude of the desolate shoreline was once again disrupted by a blinding white light and a sound so loud that it rattled my teeth, only this time it was explainable.
A Coast Guard helicopter hovered low over the ocean with its searchlight sweeping the water, looking for…what? We didn’t know. Charging in to join the search was a Coast Guard rescue craft out of Portland. I could see its lights from a few miles off as it sped our way. On land were two Jeeps from the sheriff’s department with their blue hazard lights flashing. Rounding out the spectacle were two more cars, SUVs, that belonged to my parents and Quinn’s.
Right after the explosion, Quinn and I debated what we should do. Calling in the authorities meant calling in our parents and a possible end to our midnight rides. As much as we didn’t want to have to face their wrath, it didn’t take long to make a decision. This was too huge to keep quiet.
Twenty minutes later the two Jeeps arrived with their sirens wailing and lights flashing. I was impressed, considering that the sheriff and his deputy must have been asleep when they got the calls. It’s not like there’s a whole lot of criminal activity on Pemberwick. Those guys mostly dealt with tourists who got dumb when they drank too much beer or kids who raced around the island in their parents’ cars.
Shortly after the sheriff arrived, the Coast Guard chopper flew in, which meant the sheriff didn’t want to handle this alone. Smart move. I’d met Sheriff Laska a few times and he seemed like an okay guy, though not exactly a highly trained crimestopper. He was overweight…okay, fat…which didn’t matter much because it wasn’t like he ever had to chase down fleeing perps. The most chasing he ever did was with a beer after a buttery lobster roll.
Deputy Donald wasn’t any more impressive. He looked like he had graduated high school last week. He was a little guy who wore his sheriff uniform really tight, like some badass state trooper. Maybe he thought it made him look bigger. I think it just made him look like he was wearing a Halloween costume that didn’t fit anymore. I wasn’t even sure if Donald was his first name or his last. They were both good guys but not crack detectives. I was glad that they had called in the Coast Guard.
When Laska and Donald got there, they instantly separated Quinn and me. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to realize they wanted us each to separately give our version of what had happened to see if the stories matched. Laska questioned me and Donald took Quinn. I told the sheriff everything with as much detail as I could remember. The only tricky question came when he asked me whywe were riding our bikes out there in the middle of the night. But I had a good answer
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