The SYLO Chronicles by D.J. MacHale

Author:D.J. MacHale
Language: eng
Format: epub

SIXTEEN

“Why is there a big bank vault in middle-of-nowhere Kentucky?” Olivia asked.

“It’s not really a bank vault,” Jon answered. “It’s a structure that was built to hold the gold reserves of the United States government.”

“So they’ve got piles of gold coins lying around like some kind of pirate’s lair?” Kent asked.

“Not coins, bars,” Jon said. “Tons of them. Literally. The government has used the vault to secure other valuable items as well, like the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. They were stored there during World War II.”

“How do you know so much about it?” Kent asked with skepticism.

Jon shrugged. “History is a passion of mine.”

“You are so odd,” Kent said.

“I don’t know that much about the place,” I said. “But look at the map. It’s a big freakin’ vault in the middle of an Army base near a small town.”

Everyone took turns looking at the detailed map.

“The vault itself is a whole building. If I were looking to keep things safe, that would definitely be on my list.”

“We’re looking for a place that’s a safe haven for people,” Tori said. “Not gold.”

“I know,” I said. “But there’s plenty of other valuable stuff in the world. The Air Force attack didn’t just happen. Even the president of the United States knew it was coming. He’s the one who ordered SYLO to set up on Pemberwick Island. If he knew war was coming, don’t you think he’d do exactly what Jon just described? Wouldn’t he want some things to be protected? Like the Declaration of Independence? Or the Constitution? Or the Mona Lisa, for all I know? He could be protecting stuff from the Air Force.”

“Or from whoever is controlling the Air Force,” Tori pointed out.

“Exactly,” I said. “This might be the safest place in the country right now.”

“Then let’s go!” Jon declared.

Kent and Tori stared at me, waiting for an answer. Again, I was the one who had to make the call.

“What have we got to lose?” I said with a shrug. “Let’s go check it out.”

I scoped the map and gave Kent directions on how to get there. It looked about thirty miles southwest of the airport on local roads. We followed the course and had traveled for no more than ten minutes when we began to see proof that we were on the right track. It started out as smoke on the horizon. Several fires were burning, spewing huge, black plumes into the air.

“At least there’s some life here,” Tori said.

“Look,” Olivia said, pointing to the side of the road. “Here we go again.”

There was a big ditch surrounded by a scattering of rocks. It looked like the deep craters we had seen outside of Portland.

“Those are missile craters,” Tori said. “There was a battle here.”

“Yeah, and not long ago,” Jon added. “The fires are still burning.”

None of the fires were near the road, so we couldn’t tell what was in flames. We were traveling through a wooded area, and our views were blocked by dense stretches of trees.

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