Invasion

by Jon S. Lewis

  “Where are they, Lieutenant?” asked a boy with a thick Texas accent. “I mean, if there’re so many, shouldn’t we be able to see them?”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lawson, sir. Tyrese Lawson.”

  “Well, Lawson, if we do our job, you never will,” Lohr said. “It’s up to CHAOS to hunt those monsters down before they crawl through your windows in the middle of the night.”

  “Where do they come from, Lieutenant?”

  “Name?”

  “Dante DiMaggio.”

  “Care to guess where they come from, DiMaggio?”

  DiMaggio shrugged.

  “Anyone?” Lohr’s robotic head scanned the room looking for someone to respond, but no one did. “Come on, don’t any of you read comic books anymore?”

  Colt raised his hand, though only high enough for Lohr to see. The mechanical eye on the monster’s second head spun left, then right, and left again, like a camera lens trying to focus.

  “You’re one of the McAlister boys, right?”

  “Yes, sir. My name is Colt.”

  “Did you know that I served with your grandfather in the Second World War?”

  Colt frowned as he tried to do the math in his head.

  “I’m older than I look. Besides, why do you think I have all this fancy machinery?” Lohr wiggled his mechanical fingers and rotated his robotic head. “The Nazis bombed our position, and I took a direct hit. Your grandpa was part of the team that saved my hide. Without him, I wouldn’t be here today.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” Lohr said. “All of our missions during the war were classified. Your grandpa was lucky, though. He made it to retirement, but I’ve been stuck here long enough to train your father and all seven of your brothers too. With hair like that, are you sure you’re a McAlister?”

  “People say I take after my mom.”

  A few of the boys snickered.

  “Hey, he’s from California; cut him some slack,” Romero said. “Everyone looks like that out there.”

  “Is that so?” Lohr smiled. “You’re the one they call Runt?”

  There was more laughter.

  “I guess so,” Colt said as he shrank down in his chair.

  “You had some fairly impressive test scores,” Lohr said. The laughter stopped, and all eyes focused on Colt. “Then again, so did everyone sitting in this room.”

  “What test scores?” Colt asked.

  “You’ve all taken them, you just didn’t know what they were for,” Lohr said. “Your score is a culmination of everything from the standardized tests you take at the end of the school year to the fitness tests you take in your gym classes. We even ran samples of your DNA that were taken moments after you were born.”

  “Is that legal?” a boy with a shaved head asked.

  “Excuse me . . . ?”

  “The name’s Simon Fletcher.”

  “Would you like to rephrase that, Fletcher?”

  “Is that legal, Lieutenant?”

  “We have certain privileges that other government agencies don’t share,” Lohr said. “In fact, today we’re going to put you through a few more tests to determine if you have what it takes to save the world. If you pass, you’ll be admitted into the CHAOS Military Academy.”

  Colt raised his hand. “What if we don’t want to go, Lieutenant?”

  Lohr smiled, revealing a set of incisors that looked like they could puncture steel. “Over the next few weeks more than a thousand young men and women will come through these doors. We’ll be lucky if a dozen qualify, so I wouldn’t worry about that just yet.”

  There was a murmur through the room, but it quieted when Lohr raised his hand. “Those who qualify will get to pick a specialty from things like space exploration, counterintelligence, weapons systems, piloting, and espionage. We even have teams of scientists and engineers, so there’s room for everyone. Well, everyone except Romero, anyway.”

  “You should really leave the comedy to the professionals,” Romero said.

  Lohr smiled again before he turned his attention back to Colt. “You were going to tell us where all the creepy crawlies that go bump in the night come from.”

  For a moment Colt lost his train of thought, but he recovered. “I have a question first,” he finally managed to say.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Is this the same CHAOS agency as the one in the comic book?”

  “You mean Phantom Flyer and the Agents of CHAOS?” Lohr asked. He held up his hand to show Colt a Phantom Flyer signet ring that would have been big enough to fit around Colt’s neck. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “In that case,” Colt answered, “according to the official CHAOS Guidebook, monsters and aliens come to Earth through invisible gateways that connect us to other worlds. They’re kind of like bridges, I guess, and they allow us to go places we couldn’t reach by spacecraft.”

  “Like my home world of Nemus?” Lohr asked.

  “That’s the world with all the trees, right?”

  “You know something, you may not be as big as your brothers, but you’re a heck of a lot smarter,” Lohr said. “Now all we have to do is get you a haircut, and you just might turn into the soldier that everybody’s been hoping for.”

  Colt pushed his long bangs out of his eyes. “Does that mean my brothers are CHAOS agents?”

  “That’s classified.”

  “What about my dad?”

  “All I can tell you is that he graduated from the academy,” Lohr said before turning back to the rest of the group. “Now I hope you were paying attention, because McAlister is right. We’ve shut most of the major gateways down, but small ones pop up all the time. It’s up to us to find them before anything dangerous escapes into our world.”

  “Some of the gateways are still open, Lieutenant?” Fletcher asked.

  “Only a few, but they’re heavily regulated,” Lohr said. “We’ve even built settlements on planets that can sustain human life.”

  “Then everything in the Phantom Flyer comic books is real? Hitler had an army of werewolves, robots, and supersoldiers?”

  “More or less,” Lohr said. “And don’t forget the flying saucers and the shape-shifting aliens.”

  “You mean the Thule?” Colt asked.

  Lohr nodded. “In their natural form, those blighters look like walking lizards with six arms, but they can shift into just about anything. In fact, for all you know, I could be one of the Thule.”

  “But you’re not,” DiMaggio said. He was on the edge of his chair, and looked ready to bolt as he waited for Lohr to respond.

  “You better hope not,” Lohr said. “When we opened the gateway to their home world, it nearly cost us everything. The Thule decided to send a fleet of warships to exterminate everyone on Earth so they could colonize this little rock we call home. Luckily we closed the door before too many broke through.”

  “Hitler was one of the Thule, right?” another boy asked. “I mean, he was in the Phantom Flyer comic anyway.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read,” Lohr said. “Those comics are like movies based on true stories. The creators took liberties to make the story more exciting. That being said, they’re still pretty close to the truth.”

  “Why hasn’t any of it been documented? I mean, comic books aren’t exactly used in history class.”

  “It has, but those files are classified,” Lohr said. “Think about it. What would happen if you saw someone like me walking down the street in your hometown?”

  Everyone laughed, and for the first time they sounded relaxed.

  “Exactly,” Lohr said. “It would cause mass hysteria. So our job as CHAOS agents is to keep a lid on all of this so people like your parents don’t have to worry. They have enough problems putting up with the music that you listen to—that is, if you want to call it music. We don’t need to add an alien invasion to the list.”

  : : CHAPTER 3 : :

 
Lieutenant Lohr wrapped up his orientation by breaking the boys into groups that would rotate through five stations: an obstacle course, a documentary about the history of the CHAOS program, simulated battles that were basically video games, written tests, and combat class.

  “Remember that you’re being graded on everything today,” Lohr said before he dismissed them, “and I’m not just talking about the obvious. How you act and what you say will tell us a lot about you, and trust me, we’ll be watching. You’re dismissed.”

  Lohr walked down a flight of stairs connected to the stage before approaching Colt and his team, which included Romero, Fletcher, Lawson, and DiMaggio. “It must be your lucky day, because you get to start with me.”

  He led the boys down a series of corridors before they passed into a hallway that was basically an acrylic tube that looked like it cut through some kind of lake. There was a strange green glow coming from the murky water, and exotic fish unlike anything Colt had ever seen swam all around them.

  “This is our aquatic center,” Lohr said. “The tank holds over six million gallons of water, with more than ten thousand specimens from twelve different planets.”

  The tube eventually opened up into a viewing theater where a wall of glass at least thirty feet high and a hundred feet wide offered a spectacular panorama. A forest of plants swayed in the current as an enormous sea creature swam by. It looked prehistoric, with bulging eyes, a gaping mouth, and black scales lined with fluorescent markings.

  “What is that thing?” Colt asked.

  Romero shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Lohr allowed the boys to drink in the splendor of the strange underwater world, but not for long. “We have to keep moving,” he said before disappearing through a set of double doors at the far end of the room.

  Colt stopped to tie his boot. By the time he was finished, he was the only person left in the theater. He was about to leave when something caught his eye. At first he thought it was someone in scuba gear, like the people who vacuum out the aquarium beds at Sea World. He was wrong.

  A boy, or at least what Colt thought was a boy, swam cautiously to the glass. He wasn’t wearing goggles, a regulator, or an oxygen tank. Instead, a set of gills on his neck opened and closed as he stared at Colt with his head tilted to the side. His black eyes were enormous, and his skin was an undulating pattern of greens and blues. The tentacles on top of his head reminded Colt of dreadlocks, and the boy’s hands and feet were webbed.

  Don’t be frightened. The voice had spoken inside Colt’s head.

  Too late for that. Colt backed away from the glass, heart pounding. “Did you say that?”

  The creature nodded as the doors to the passageway opened.

  “What are you doing?” Romero asked.

  Colt turned back to the tank, but the boy was gone. “Where did he go?”

  “Who?”

  “The kid in the tank.”

  “We don’t have time to mess around,” Romero said. “Come on, we have to go.”

  By the time they caught up with the others, Lohr was already leading the boys through a series of stretching exercises. “Did you get lost?” the lieutenant asked. His tone was no longer friendly.

  “Something like that,” Colt said.

  “Take off your boots and get in here.”

  Romero was already in his bare feet and had fallen in line before Colt untied his first lace. There were no windows in the room. The walls were covered with padding, and the floor was basically made out of rubber with a giant circle in the middle. Colt joined the rest of the group in time to loosen his hamstrings a bit, but that was about it.

  “All right, everyone line up against the wall,” Lohr said. “We know you’re smart and that you can do a bunch of push-ups and sit-ups, but let’s see how good you are at hand-to-hand combat. Has anyone taken boxing classes?”

  Romero raised his hand.

  “How about martial arts?”

  Fletcher joined Romero.

  “Have any of you even been in a fight before?”

  The boys just looked at each other.

  “Video games have made this world soft,” Lohr said, shaking his head. “All right, Romero and McAlister, front and center.”

  “I wanted to spar against McAlister,” Fletcher said.

  Lohr turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “What makes you think you have what it takes?”

  “I’m not too worried.”

  “We’ll see,” Lohr said as Romero ran out to the center of the circle.

  Colt just stood there.

  “What are you waiting for?” Lohr asked.

  Colt lowered his eyes and walked over to stand next to Romero. The size difference was almost laughable, but Lohr didn’t seem to care.

  “Now face each other.”

  “Are you really going to make us fight?” Colt asked.

  “It’s called sparring,” Lohr said.

  “Don’t we get gloves?”

  “If you’re half as good as everyone thinks you are, you won’t need them.”

  Colt looked over to Romero, who was already in a fighting stance. His left foot was forward, his right fist cocked, but it was his eyes that held Colt’s attention. They were intense. It was as though a raging bull had replaced the affable boy Colt had met in the locker room that morning.

  Colt’s only fighting experience was wrestling with his brothers, and they had never thrown a punch. If he had to fight, all he wanted to do was survive without getting a black eye or having a tooth knocked out.

  “Are you ready?” Lohr said, turning to Romero.

  He nodded.

  “What about you?”

  “I guess,” Colt said.

  “Then let’s go.”

  The moment that Lohr stepped back, Romero pounced. He took two long strides before jumping in the air, then brought his fist back before punching. If Colt hadn’t moved out of the way, it would have connected with his chest. Instead, Colt sidestepped and pushed Romero in the back. The momentum took the larger boy outside of the circle and onto his knees.

  Lohr blew his whistle. “Not bad,” he said.

  Romero looked angry. His nostrils were flaring as he knelt on the ground. He closed his eyes, then popped back to his feet and stomped back to his starting spot.

  : : CHAPTER 4 : :

  Colt’s heart was fluttering from the adrenaline surge as he stood across from Romero. He had no idea how he’d avoided getting his head knocked off, much less how he’d succeeded in shoving Romero to the ground. It was an invigorating sensation, but from the look in Romero’s eye, Colt knew he was in trouble.

  “Again,” Lohr said once the boys were in position.

  Romero took his time. His head hung low behind raised fists as he bobbed from side to side. “It’s nothing personal, McAlister.”

  Colt’s breathing was shallow and his palms were sweating as he waited for Romero to strike. He didn’t have to wait long. Romero threw a jab with his right hand, forcing Colt to dip out of the way. As Colt stood back up, Romero threw another jab that grazed Colt’s cheek. He followed it with an uppercut that connected with Colt’s stomach.

  The boys watching gasped as Colt’s feet left the floor from the force of the impact. Colt could feel the wind rush out of his lungs before he hit the mat. He lay there, writhing and gasping for air. When he finally opened his eyes, Romero was standing over him. The larger boy offered his hand before helping Colt to his feet.

  “Are you okay?” Romero asked, the rage replaced by concern. “I think so.” Colt’s cheek was throbbing, and his stomach hurt so much that he wanted to throw up.

  “You’re not supposed to stand there like a punching bag,” Lohr said. “What would you do if one of your brothers tried to take your head off?”

  Colt looked over to see the Sasquatch standing with his arms crossed as though he was disappointed. He wanted to tell Lohr that he hadn’t asked to come here in the first place, but instead he stumbled back to the center of the circle with his arm
over his stomach.

  “Don’t you think he’s had enough?” Romero asked.

  Lohr growled like a dog protecting his dinner. “Until your father tells me otherwise, I’m in charge of the combat school.”

  “Whatever you say.” Romero turned to Colt. “You need to cover up, okay?” he whispered.

  Colt nodded and tried to mirror the stance Romero had taken. He balled his hands into fists and held them up to protect his face.

  “Take a wider stance,” Romero said. “That’s where your power comes from. Besides, it’ll make it harder to throw you down.”

  “Like this?”

  Romero shook his head. “Loosen up a bit. You know, like a spring or something. You can’t react if you’re bunched up like that.”

  “Go!” Lohr said.

  Romero kicked with his right foot. He had aimed for Colt’s ear, but Colt slid to the ground and caught Romero’s left ankle between his feet. He rolled over, and the motion made Romero buckle. He fell on his face, but Colt wasn’t done. He slammed the back of Romero’s head with his fist. Something cracked; then Romero groaned.

  “You still want that shot?” Lohr asked as he looked at Fletcher.

  “I’m sorry,” Colt said, kneeling over Romero. He thought about taking off his shirt to wipe up the blood, but he didn’t get a chance.

  “He’ll be fine,” Lohr said as he picked Romero up by his arm. The Sasquatch knelt to inspect the boy’s nose. “It’s broken all right. Nice work, McAlister.”

  “Wait, I didn’t mean to do that,” Colt said.

  “Romero was careless and he paid for it,” Lohr said. “Now who’s next?”

  As Colt followed Romero to the wall, Lohr motioned for Fletcher and Lawson to take their place in the circle. Both looked nervous, but the Sasquatch didn’t seem to care. At the same time, something that looked like an oversized toaster on wheels sped across the mat. Like a street cleaner, it had bristles under its belly. It swept away the pool of blood before rolling back to its alcove in the wall.

  “Look, you have to believe me. I’m really sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” Romero said. His voice sounded strange as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to try and stop the bleeding. “Injuries are part of training. Besides, that was a nice move. Think you can teach me how to do it?”