by Jon S. Lewis
“I’m not sure,” Colt said. “It just kind of happened.”
After combat training, Lohr sent Romero to the infirmary, where the doctor set his nose before covering it with a splint and some bandage tape. By the time Romero caught up with the rest of the group at the obstacle course, there were black circles under his eyes, though his dark skin masked most of it.
“It’s kind of cool, huh?” Romero asked.
“Yeah, I guess,” Colt said with raised eyebrows. “If you want to look like a raccoon.”
“Your cheek doesn’t look much better.”
“Trust me, it hurts worse than it looks.”
“You haven’t seen yourself in the mirror, have you?”
“Not yet.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Despite his injury, Romero was able to coast through the obstacle course with the best time of the day. Colt wasn’t far behind. After their rotation, the team was escorted back to the amphitheater to take a timed test. Most of the questions were multiple choice, but a few at the end were in essay format.
The questions bordered on the bizarre, and some were just crazy. One asked whether or not Colt believed that the conversion to digital television would allow the government to put two-way televisions in everyone’s home. That way they could spy on every house in the United States. Another wondered if Colt believed that Princess Diana was killed because she discovered that a shape-shifting alien had assassinated the Prime Minister of Great Britain and was seated in his place. Colt finished just before the bell rang, even though he wasn’t sure how. His hand hurt from all the writing.
“When do we get to play video games?” Colt asked as he walked to the mess hall with Romero. The last thing he wanted to do during summer vacation was take any more tests.
“After the movie.”
“Don’t you mean documentary?”
“It’s not what you think,” Romero said. “The screen is eight stories tall and the resolution is so amazing that it feels like you’re right there.”
“How many times have you seen it?”
Romero shrugged. “I’ve been coming here since I was six, and I figure I’ve seen it at least ten times each summer, so what’s that?”
“Have you been through all this before?”
“The tests? Nah,” Romero said. “At least not as a potential cadet. This time it counts.”
They were the last group to arrive at the mess hall, which looked a lot like the cafeteria at Colt’s school. For the most part, everyone sat at long tables with the rest of their team members. The instructors sat together in the back of the room.
“Don’t get used to this,” Romero said, stuffing half a cheeseburger into his mouth.
“What do you mean?”
Romero didn’t wait to swallow before he answered. “They don’t normally serve this kind of food. I mean, I don’t remember the last time we had banana pudding or chocolate milk. Most of the time we get chicken and vegetables, and for breakfast it’s lumpy oatmeal with raisins. Sometimes they give you powdered eggs and overcooked sausage. I don’t think a dog would eat it.”
“You could always have a protein bar.”
“They don’t let you bring anything into the academy.”
“So do you want to be a CHAOS agent when you grow up?”
Romero shrugged. “It’s not like I have a choice.”
“I wonder why my brothers never told me about this place.”
“You’re not allowed to talk about it, even with your family,” Romero said. “Besides, before you leave they give you a shot of something that wipes your memory.”
Colt frowned. “Why?”
“Before today, what’s the first thing that came to mind when you heard someone was a Bigfoot hunter?”
“I don’t know. I guess I would have thought they were crazy.”
“Exactly,” Romero said. “If everyone knew the truth—that there really were monsters in their closets and under their beds, there’d be a widespread panic. That’s why we keep it a secret.”
“Makes sense.” Colt looked around at the other boys in the mess hall. There were a couple impromptu wrestling matches going on, and some guys were having a belching contest at the next table.
Romero followed his gaze and smiled. “Would you trust any of these guys with the world’s deadliest secrets?”
: : CHAPTER 5 : :
When lunch was over, Colt’s team went to a movie theater that was big enough to seat five hundred people. Instead of spreading out to take advantage of the space, the boys crowded together in the back so they could get a good view of the enormous screen.
“What, no popcorn?” Colt asked.
“Hey, Lohr,” Romero said. “McAlister wants to know if you’ll get us some snacks. I like lots of butter on my popcorn.”
Colt’s eyes shot wide. He looked at Romero, then Lohr, and finally back to Romero. “I was just messing around. Now he’s going to kill me.”
“Relax. Once you get past the smell and that scowl, Lohr’s just an oversized puppy dog,” Romero said.
Lohr shook his head before walking down the stairs. Then he disappeared out the door.
The lights dimmed.
“Get ready,” Romero said. “I’ve seen this dozens of times, and it’s still amazing.”
The screen flicked to life and then the music poured out of a sound system that was better than any rock concert. It started out with a narrator talking over black-and-white footage of the Second World War. Colt recognized President Roosevelt, General MacArthur, and General Eisenhower, who would later become the president of the United States. Then they showed footage of the first CHAOS agents training for the war. Colt thought he saw his grandpa in a scene where they were teaching them how to fly in jet packs, but he wasn’t sure.
After that there was some footage shot by Nazi video crews. There were robots, wolf men, aliens, and supersoldiers—the perfect human specimens, bred to eradicate their opposition.
Colt thought the most exciting part of the movie was the exploration sequence at the end. There was footage from some of the planets that were connected to Earth by gateways. In the first shot, the camera panned over the vast forests of Lohr’s home planet, Nemus. Colt felt like he was flying in a helicopter looking down at the trees. Strange birds, like herons only ten times larger, coasted over the treetops as a waterfall splashed in the background.
Next came Yarix, where the surface temperatures reached more than two hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Strange creatures with hides of burning fire roamed the desert wastelands like packs of wolves.
The final sequence was from a water planet called Undar, where the combined landmass of all the continents was smaller than Australia. They showed amazing undersea creatures and entire cities that spread across the ocean floor like a great metropolis.
Colt jabbed Romero in the ribs with his elbow. “That looks like the kid I saw this morning.”
“In the fish tank?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff here—I’m talking fish that could swallow a school bus—but not any Undarians,” Romero said.
“He talked to me.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how, but I heard his voice in my head.”
“Was that before or after I hit you?”
“I’m serious,” Colt said. “You heard the narrator; they use telepathy.”
Romero shrugged. “I guess it’s possible.”
When the movie was over, Colt’s team was brought to a large room where every inch of wall space was covered with video screens. Everyone was given what looked like night vision goggles, as well as a controller with a series of buttons, thumb sticks, and triggers. The overhead lights dimmed and the screens flared to life. As Colt turned slowly in a circle, he felt like he was actually in the middle of a post-apocalyptic world.
Vines had crept over the rubble of a city that had been obliterated by a devastating war. It reminded Colt
of New York City, but the signs were written in some kind of alien script. The closest language he could think of was Japanese, but it wasn’t. It didn’t even look human.
There were three moons hanging in the sky, their glow caught in the haze of ash that clung to the air. Colt wasn’t sure if they were piping in scents, but his nose was filled with the stench of a dying campfire.
“Your mission is to make it to the gateway at the end of the street,” their instructor said.
“That’s it?” Fletcher asked.
Colt wasn’t sure if the instructor was smiling or sneering. “Talk to me when it’s over.”
Each boy had been assigned an avatar that looked a lot like him. Colt’s was a sniper with a jet pack, and Romero was a gunner on the back of an armored vehicle that actually hovered over the street instead of using tires or tread. Lawson was riding inside something called an ABS, which stood for Armored Battle Suit. It looked a bit like a ten-foot-tall robot, but its chest was actually a cockpit where the soldier manned the controls.
“This is Gathmara,” Romero said as Colt walked beside his vehicle. “You know, the planet with those shape-shifting aliens.”
“Have you played this scenario before?”
“The computer never runs the same simulation twice.”
“Incoming!” DiMaggio warned.
Colt heard the missile before he saw it. It screamed overhead, narrowly missing the ABS before exploding into a high-rise. Bricks, steel, and glass flew everywhere as a blast of heat burst in the darkened sky. Then the ground started to shake, in both the game and in real life. Colt watched as one of the kids fell down. So did his avatar on the screen.
“How did they do that?” Colt asked.
“It’s called four-dimensional gaming,” Romero said. “The floor is actually a hydraulic platform.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Look out!” Romero pressed both triggers on his controller, releasing energy bolts from the cannon on the back of the armored vehicle.
Lizard men with six arms scattered amid the rubble as Fletcher and DiMaggio burst into the sky with their jet packs.
: : CHAPTER 6 : :
Like the written test, their video game scenario was timed. Not that it mattered. Their entire team was eliminated with more than twenty minutes left. Lawson and his ABS was the first to go. He never got the hang of the weapons system, which meant that their team had lost its big gun early. After that, everything fell apart.
Romero was the last one left, but Colt wasn’t surprised. He was the only one who’d played the game before.
“Can we do another scenario?” DiMaggio asked.
“Not today,” the instructor said. “It’s time to hit the showers.”
The boys had to turn in their goggles and controllers before they were taken back to the locker room. After a quick shower, Colt changed back into his street clothes, but not before opening and reopening his locker five or six times, just for fun.
“So what do you think?” Romero asked.
“It was fun.”
“It gets tougher.”
Colt shrugged.
“It’s a twelve-month program—and I’m talking no vacation— so you wouldn’t be able to surf,” Romero said.
“I’ve surfed my whole life. Besides, as long as they let us play that video game, I wouldn’t care.”
Romero smiled. “It’s definitely part of the training.”
“Then I hope I make it.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“How will we know?” Fletcher asked.
“Know what?” Romero said.
“If we made it into the academy.”
“You’ll get an invitation, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fletcher said, his brows furrowing as he flared his nostrils. He took a step toward Romero, but Romero didn’t flinch.
“Don’t take it personally,” Romero said. “Not many of us are going to make it. I don’t even know if I will.”
“Yeah, right,” DiMaggio said. “Your dad is the director of CHAOS. There’s no way you won’t make the cut.”
“Stuff like that doesn’t matter,” Romero said. “You either have what it takes or you don’t.”
“So now what?” Colt asked as he slipped on his shoes.
“You dump your uniform in that hamper, get your shot, and go home.”
“Are you sure we’re not going to remember any of this?”
“Nothing.”
“Then what was the point?” Fletcher asked.
“Today wasn’t about having fun and building memories that will last a lifetime,” Romero said. “Think of it like a county fair. They parade us around like we’re prize hogs. Then they pick the best, give us blue ribbons, and hope we turn out to be the kind of soldiers who can save the world from big ugly monsters like Lohr.”
Colt nodded, though he didn’t fully understand, and from the looks on their faces the other boys didn’t get it either. Instead of pressing with more questions, Colt said his good-byes and made his way to the door.
Before he could leave the locker room, he was stopped by a medical robot that injected him in the arm with a burning liquid. Colt did his best to try and remember everything that he’d experienced over the course of the day, but by the time he walked out the front door, his memory was already starting to blur.
“So how was it?” Dad asked as Colt stepped into the rental car.
“It was fun, I guess.” Colt yawned.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t know.” He frowned. “I mean, I think we played some kind of video game, and I sort of remember a movie, but . . .” He yawned again. “I’m not sure. The rest is fuzzy.”
“They must have kept you busy.”
“Yeah.”
“What happened to your cheek?”
“My cheek?” Colt reached up and felt a bump. It was tender.
“I’m sure the swelling will go down by morning. Just try to hide it from your mother. You know how she gets about that kind of thing.”
“No problem,” Colt said after yawning once more. “Do you think we can go back to the hotel? I’m kind of tired.”
“I can arrange that.”
Colt woke up the next morning with a headache. The swelling on his cheek had gone down, but there was a bruise and it was painful.
“Good morning,” Mom said when he wandered out of the bedroom he had been sharing with three of his brothers.
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Where is everybody?”
“They went to the baseball game.”
“Why didn’t they wake me up?”
“We tried, but you wouldn’t budge.”
“Do we have any food? I’m starving.”
“Your brothers ate the last of the eggs and bacon,” his mother said. “Since we’re heading back tomorrow, I didn’t get any more groceries, so all we have left are a few powdered doughnuts and some cold pizza.”
“That’s a start.”
As Colt devoured the eclectic breakfast, his mother plied him with questions about the camp—starting with the bruise on his cheek. Colt couldn’t remember any details—not about the bruise, any activities, or even what he’d had for lunch.
“Maybe you got a slight case of amnesia when you bumped your head,” his mother said.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Colt said between bites of pizza. Then he slurped down half a glass of fruit punch. He was too tired to care about his lost memories. All he wanted to do was eat his breakfast and go back to bed.
: : CHAPTER 7 : :
Colt had turned sixteen just before they left for Washington, D.C. His parents had given him an old Toyota Land Cruiser pickup as a gift. The red paint was fading and the interior was ripped and frayed, but Colt thought it was perfect. Of the eight McAlister brothers, he was the last still at home, and since both of his parents worked, nobod
y was ever around to give him a ride. That Land Cruiser meant freedom.
He was about to start his sophomore year at Scripps Ranch High School in San Diego. With summer winding down, Colt wanted to make the most of his vacation, so he was up before the sun on his last free Friday morning. He changed into his board shorts, a T-shirt, and some flip-flops. Then he threw on an old Padres cap before making a quick protein shake and heading out to the garage. His wet suit was already in the front seat and his surfboard was loaded in the back.
Colt had wanted to go to Black’s Beach to avoid the tourists, but some of his friends were heading over to Solana Beach for the day, so he decided to meet them there. They’d at least have a few hours before the crowds showed up, and by then Colt would be too tired to surf more anyway.
There were only a few other cars when Colt pulled up, but he didn’t see his buddy, Tyler’s old woody station wagon. Colt parked on the side of the road before slipping into his wet suit. He didn’t feel like waiting. Besides, for all he knew, Tyler and the rest of his friends were still sleeping. Colt waxed his board, and a few minutes later he was paddling out into the surf.
Once he was out in the open water, he stopped to watch the sunrise. It was serene, sitting there straddling his board as the waves swayed gently beneath him. A seagull flew overhead, and in the distance he could see a sailboat cutting through the water.
Colt took a deep breath and lay down on his board. The cold water lapped over the sides, spraying his face. He could taste the salt on his lips as his arms paddled against the strong current. Then he spotted a wave and Colt paddled harder. He steered back around to face the shore. When the first of the swell lifted the back of his board, he gripped the sides before rising to one knee. Then he popped up, catching his balance with his arms.
With his long bangs whipping against his forehead, Colt walked back and forth on his board, enjoying the ride as the water raged around him. The wave died too soon, and as it did Colt lowered himself on his board before paddling back out.
