thunderlike rumblings wash over them. It wasn’t like any thunder Holt had ever heard.
His mother moved closer to his father, and he put his arm around her. Holt felt his sister’s grip on his hand tighten.
The glowing in the clouds grew, becoming brighter, the shades of red blooming vibrantly. The thunder rolling in from the city grew louder, too. Something was building; something was happening.
The clouds over Denver parted violently as a massive black shape exploded out of them.
Holt, Emily, and everyone else in the street gasped as it slammed straight into the heart of the city. An enormous fireball erupted where it hit, bellowing up into the night sky.
Seconds later … the sound of the impact hit them, a giant boom that shook the ground. People screamed; some fell to the street as if blown over. Emily moaned, her knees buckled. Holt held on to her tightly.
In the distance, the lights of Denver flickered once, twice … then went dark. Seconds later, so did the base, the lights up and down the street flashing out.
More sounds reached them, loud enough to carry over the distance. Pops and bangs, like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. But Holt knew they weren’t firecrackers.
The city itself could no longer be seen. Only bright flashes near where the ground must be … and yellow pinpoints of light that flared from the sky to the Earth like how his dad once described tracer fire from the war.
It seemed pretty clear. Denver was under attack. But … by what?
The realization broke the spell. The people all around Holt ran in a stampede either back into their houses or toward the barracks to gear up. Holt knew his father would go with them.
Holt’s mother had the same thought. She shook her head, gripped his shirt tight to keep him in place … to keep him with them. His father pulled her close, whispered into her ear. Holt couldn’t hear what he said, but his mother relaxed a little in his grip, shut her eyes.
Holt and his sister watched their father kneel down to them. Holt noticed how calm he seemed in spite of all that was happening, in spite of the panic in the street. It made him feel better, made him believe things would be okay. His father always made him feel that way.
He said he needed them to help their mother, to pack the car and get ready in case they had to leave. He asked if they thought they could do that.
Holt and Emily both nodded, held each other tighter. Their dad smiled.
He looked at Holt, studied him in a new way, like he was seeing different parts of him he’d never recognized before … or at least never needed to until now. After a moment, his father nodded, pulled something from a pocket, and handed it to Holt.
It was going to be for his birthday next week, Holt’s father said. But he’d decided he was ready for it now.
Holt stared at the object, a glittering, new red Swiss Army knife, full of different tools and blades. Holt smiled. His dad ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. When he got back, his dad said, he’d show him how to use it. Then he hugged them tightly, Holt and Emily at the same time.
His father stood up. His mother’s eyes glistened. The sounds of explosions from the city were growing louder. Holt’s father pulled her close, kissed her … then he was gone, running down the street with the rest of the soldiers.
Holt gripped the knife in his hand as he stared after his father. He watched until he faded into the distance, until he lost sight of him on the darkened street.
It was the last time Holt ever saw him.
9. BEST-LAID SCHEMES
EXPLOSIONS RIPPED THE AIR above the camp and yanked Holt from his dream.
“What was that?” Mira asked in alarm, still tied, but awake and alert.
There it was again, the high-pitched rapid-fire booms of heavy plasma cannons. Holt recognized them instantly.
So did Mira. “Raptors…,” she said. “We need to get out of here.”
She probably wasn’t wrong. Holt leapt from his sleeping bag, scanned what
His mother moved closer to his father, and he put his arm around her. Holt felt his sister’s grip on his hand tighten.
The glowing in the clouds grew, becoming brighter, the shades of red blooming vibrantly. The thunder rolling in from the city grew louder, too. Something was building; something was happening.
The clouds over Denver parted violently as a massive black shape exploded out of them.
Holt, Emily, and everyone else in the street gasped as it slammed straight into the heart of the city. An enormous fireball erupted where it hit, bellowing up into the night sky.
Seconds later … the sound of the impact hit them, a giant boom that shook the ground. People screamed; some fell to the street as if blown over. Emily moaned, her knees buckled. Holt held on to her tightly.
In the distance, the lights of Denver flickered once, twice … then went dark. Seconds later, so did the base, the lights up and down the street flashing out.
More sounds reached them, loud enough to carry over the distance. Pops and bangs, like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. But Holt knew they weren’t firecrackers.
The city itself could no longer be seen. Only bright flashes near where the ground must be … and yellow pinpoints of light that flared from the sky to the Earth like how his dad once described tracer fire from the war.
It seemed pretty clear. Denver was under attack. But … by what?
The realization broke the spell. The people all around Holt ran in a stampede either back into their houses or toward the barracks to gear up. Holt knew his father would go with them.
Holt’s mother had the same thought. She shook her head, gripped his shirt tight to keep him in place … to keep him with them. His father pulled her close, whispered into her ear. Holt couldn’t hear what he said, but his mother relaxed a little in his grip, shut her eyes.
Holt and his sister watched their father kneel down to them. Holt noticed how calm he seemed in spite of all that was happening, in spite of the panic in the street. It made him feel better, made him believe things would be okay. His father always made him feel that way.
He said he needed them to help their mother, to pack the car and get ready in case they had to leave. He asked if they thought they could do that.
Holt and Emily both nodded, held each other tighter. Their dad smiled.
He looked at Holt, studied him in a new way, like he was seeing different parts of him he’d never recognized before … or at least never needed to until now. After a moment, his father nodded, pulled something from a pocket, and handed it to Holt.
It was going to be for his birthday next week, Holt’s father said. But he’d decided he was ready for it now.
Holt stared at the object, a glittering, new red Swiss Army knife, full of different tools and blades. Holt smiled. His dad ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. When he got back, his dad said, he’d show him how to use it. Then he hugged them tightly, Holt and Emily at the same time.
His father stood up. His mother’s eyes glistened. The sounds of explosions from the city were growing louder. Holt’s father pulled her close, kissed her … then he was gone, running down the street with the rest of the soldiers.
Holt gripped the knife in his hand as he stared after his father. He watched until he faded into the distance, until he lost sight of him on the darkened street.
It was the last time Holt ever saw him.
9. BEST-LAID SCHEMES
EXPLOSIONS RIPPED THE AIR above the camp and yanked Holt from his dream.
“What was that?” Mira asked in alarm, still tied, but awake and alert.
There it was again, the high-pitched rapid-fire booms of heavy plasma cannons. Holt recognized them instantly.
So did Mira. “Raptors…,” she said. “We need to get out of here.”
She probably wasn’t wrong. Holt leapt from his sleeping bag, scanned what
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