by Jon S. Lewis
“Trust me, I was there and still can’t believe it.”
“Are you going to call the police?”
“What would I tell them?”
“How about that a crazy person is stalking you? Or, I don’t know, maybe you could tell them that one of the largest companies in the world is trying to turn all of us into mindless slaves.”
“If you don’t believe me, why would they? Besides, they’re already getting a bunch of calls about flying saucers and alien invasions. I’ll just be another nut job.”
“Why don’t you just show them the motorcycle?”
“Not yet.”
“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” Danielle said, not bothering to hide her agitation.
“I can’t risk it,” Colt said. “At least not until we find my mom’s files. I mean, what am I supposed to say? That all those crazy conspiracies about Trident watching us are true? Would you believe me?”
Danielle sighed. “Maybe not. But what about your mom’s laptop?”
“I didn’t see it at the house,” Colt said. “She must have left it in her office. Either that or it was in the car when they got hit.”
“Did she back her files up?”
Colt shrugged.
“That’s where I’d start,” Danielle said. “I bet she had an external hard drive, or maybe she backed them up online.”
“How would I find that out?”
“Call her editor.”
“What, and just ask him where my mom’s backup files are? He’s going to think something is up.”
“Tell him you’re looking for family photos.”
“Then I’d just be lying.”
“Well, if she was backing up photos, wouldn’t you want them?”
“I guess.”
“Then there you are,” Danielle said. “Just make sure you use that untraceable phone.”
“Why?”
“Because the guys who were after your mom probably bugged your lines.”
Colt sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t think about that.”
“That they were going to bug your house?”
“No, that they’d know where I live,” Colt said.
“Then we better find your mom’s files before Trident sends some of their remote control assassins after you.”
After Colt paid for the pizza and drinks, they stopped by Danielle’s house to grab some old sheets so Colt could cover up the armored ultralight.
“Pink?” Colt asked when Danielle walked out of the garage.
“What do you want? It’s all I have.”
A few minutes later they were at the airport. Danielle watched as Colt parked the motorcycle behind one of the hangars before he covered it with the pink sheets.
“Think it’ll last until the morning?” Colt asked once he finished.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Danielle said. “Although I don’t know why you won’t park it in your grandpa’s garage.”
“What am I supposed to tell him? That I bought a motorcycle on a whim? Besides, what if the wings unfold again?”
“I guess you’re right,” Danielle said. Her eyes kept roving back and forth, then to her rearview mirror. “Can we leave now?”
The ride home was nerve-racking. Colt thought he saw people with glowing red eyes in every car that they passed, and each time an airplane flew overhead, he was convinced that it was a Trident assassin in a jet pack ready to swoop down on top of them.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Danielle asked after she pulled into Grandpa McAlister’s driveway.
“Of course,” Colt said. He flashed a smile, but it felt hollow.
Grandpa McAlister wasn’t back from playing cards yet, so Colt went through the house to flip on all the lights. He did a quick scan to see if he could find any hidden cameras that Trident secret operatives might have planted, but he didn’t see any. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
It had been a long time since he’d been scared of the dark, but under the circumstances he didn’t care. Once he was satisfied that all the doors and windows were locked, he decided to search the Internet for articles about mind control programs even though he had plenty of homework. There wasn’t much that he didn’t already know.
Next he plugged Albert Van Cleve’s name into a search engine, but outside of stories about his work in biochip technology, Colt couldn’t find anything. Then he tried to search for the armored ultralights, but there was nothing.
Finally his phone buzzed. It was a text message from Danielle:
The guy who hit your parents . . . Uriah Bloc . . . he didn’t work for Trident, but he was definitely implanted with a Trident chip.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Colt put his head on his pillow. Then he started reviewing the events of the night, trying to decipher fact from fiction, and before long he fell into a fitful sleep where masked men with rifles chased him through the night sky.
: : CHAPTER 20 : :
Mr. Pfeffer’s classroom was empty when Colt walked in the next morning. He decided to take advantage of the quiet by finishing three of his algebra assignments, but someone walked in. Colt stiffened, then looked over his shoulder to see if it was one of the Trident assassins.
“Check you out, McAlister. Is that an authentic Phantom Flyer fan club ring?”
Colt looked down to realize the ring was still on his finger. “You scared me,” he said. He removed the ring and stuffed it into his front pocket, but his eyes never left Oz. Something wasn’t sitting right, and Colt couldn’t place what it was. He still felt as though Oz was keeping something from him, and he was determined to figure out what it was.
“Why hide a piece of Americana like that?” Oz said. “Let me see it.”
Colt took the ring back out and handed it to Oz. “My grandpa brought it out last night,” he said. “I guess it used to be my dad’s.”
“You could only get these through the radio show. Does he still have the Agents of CHAOS patch?”
Colt nodded.
“I’ve wanted one of these things since I was a kid,” Oz said and handed the ring back to Colt, who quickly shoved it back into his pocket.
“How did everything go last night?” Oz said.
Colt turned away from Oz to focus on his algebra book.
“You got the text, didn’t you?”
Colt nodded. Telling Danielle was one thing, but he’d just met Oz. Trust took longer than a day to build.
“Are you going to make me beg?”
“I don’t know,” Colt said, shrugging. “The guy seemed kind of crazy.”
“You should have called me for backup,” Oz said. “You never go into a situation blind, especially when you don’t know who you’re meeting.”
“You’re probably right,” Colt said. He closed his algebra book.
“Are you okay, McAlister?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just waiting for the caffeine to kick in.”
“You better hope it happens soon,” Oz said as the first bell rang. “Pfeffer’s lectures are enough to put anybody to sleep.”
The classroom started to fill up, but Lily’s desk remained empty. Then, just as the second bell rang, she slid into her seat and stuffed her backpack under her desk. “Good, I beat him,” she said to no one in particular.
Mr. Pfeffer walked into the classroom carrying his battered briefcase. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we?” he said, looking harried. “I’ve always thought that Tuesday was a good day for a test. What about you?”
The entire class moaned.
“Relax, it’s multiple choice.”
Since it was only his second day, Colt didn’t have to take the test. He sat there looking at the other students, wondering if any of them had been implanted with a Trident biochip. Parkinson’s was rare in young people, but doubtless there was at least one kid at Chandler High who suffered from epileptic seizures.
Oz was the first to finish the t
est. He walked to the front of the room with confident strides and handed it to the teacher. “Number twelve almost tripped me up, but I saw where you were going,” he said. “And the bonus question? Genius. Nicely done, Pfeffer.”
Colt could see that Mr. Pfeffer didn’t know how to respond. It looked like he wasn’t sure if Oz was mocking him or giving him an actual compliment.
The rest of the class wasn’t as confident when they handed in their tests, including Lily. When it was over, Mr. Pfeffer launched into a lecture about American industry during the War and how it helped pull the country out of the Great Depression.
“You really need to work on your game, McAlister,” Oz said in a whisper when he caught Colt staring at Lily. “Maybe the girls in San Diego appreciate the whole stalker vibe you’re giving off, but around here you need to play it cool.”
“Do you always talk that loud?” Colt asked, nervous as he watched Lily out of the corner of his eye, hoping she hadn’t heard.
The moment the dismissal bell rang, the classroom was filled with the sound of shuffling paper and books being slammed shut.
“Look, why don’t I just introduce you to her? It’ll be a good icebreaker,” Oz said.
“Don’t—”
Lily was stuffing her textbook into her backpack when Oz called out to her. “Has anybody officially introduced you to Colt yet?”
“No, not officially.”
“Then, Lily Westcott, I’d like you to meet our resident surfer dude and my fellow Phantom Flyer super fan, Colt McAlister.”
Colt’s eyes shot wide.
“Go ahead, show her your official Phantom Flyer fan club ring,” Oz said. “That thing is a classic.”
Colt wondered if it would be more embarrassing to run away or just stand there. “It’s nothing,” he said, mumbling as he kicked at the floor.
“Look at you all shy,” Oz said, scruffing Colt’s thick mop of hair. “Go ahead. Show her the ring.”
Colt took the ring out of his pocket, figuring it was best to get it over with.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Lily said, her tone polite.
“It was his dad’s,” Oz said.
“I guess that does make it special.”
As his face flushed, Colt shoved the ring back into his pocket, but just as he was about to slip into the current of students flowing down the hall, Oz grabbed him around the shoulders.
“Colt, I want you to meet the next pop country sensation, Lily Westcott.”
Lily slapped Oz playfully on the shoulder. “Why do you get such a kick out of embarrassing people?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re like an overgrown six-year-old. Do you know that?”
“I’ve heard that once or twice.”
“Are we done? I need to get to Spanish,” Colt said. Then one of the phones in his backpack started to vibrate.
“Well, are you going to get it?” Oz asked.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“You never know.”
Colt slipped his backpack off of his shoulder and opened the pouch. It wasn’t his phone. Someone had sent him a text message on Van Cleve’s untraceable phone. Colt tried to be discreet as he read both words. You’re next.
“What’s wrong?” Oz asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then let me see it.”
Colt dropped the phone into the pouch before zipping it back up. “Seriously, it’s no big deal.”
Oz was standing there with a scowl. For a moment Colt thought that he was going to try and rip the backpack away from him.
“Am I missing something?” Lily asked.
“No,” Colt said.
“Don’t try and be a hero, McAlister,” Oz said, ignoring Lily.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Colt said.
Oz shook his head. “Look, I have to pick something up in the office, but I’m supposed to babysit the little guy. Do you think you could walk him to Spanish?”
“I know where—”
Oz placed his large hand over Colt’s mouth. “I was talking to Lily.”
“Yeah, sure,” Lily said. “The choir room isn’t too far away from there.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you later,” Oz said. “Then you’re going to show me that text.” With that, Oz took off down the hall, but he had one last tidbit to add. “I almost forgot . . . Colt isn’t just a comic book nerd. Danielle told me that he plays the guitar too . . . Oh, and he surfs. I guess chicks in California dig that kind of thing. That’s why his hair looks like a mop.”
: : CHAPTER 21 : :
Maybe, Colt thought, if he just stood there, Lily would eventually walk away.
“I’m sorry about that,” he finally said, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “I know how to get to Spanish.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “We’re used to Oz and his sense of humor. Besides, if we’re both heading that way, we might as well walk together.”
“It depends,” Colt said as they started down the hall. “Do you promise not to tell anyone about my Phantom Flyer ring?”
Lily laughed. “I’ll do my best,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, my bedroom is filled with My Little Ponies.”
“Really? Mine too.”
They both laughed this time, but as Colt walked beside her he wondered if he remembered to wear deodorant and whether or not there was anything hanging from his nose.
“So how long have you been playing guitar?”
“I don’t know.” Colt shrugged. “I think I was about eight before I could finally form a chord. My dad bought me one of those acoustics they make for little kids, but I’m not very good.”
“I bet you’re just being modest.”
“What about you?” Colt asked. “If you’re going to be the next big thing in country music, you must play.”
“Just enough so it looks like I know what I’m doing,” Lily said. “I’m really a singer.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Right here in the hallway?”
“Why not?” Colt said. “I mean, if you’re going to play to stadiums full of screaming fans, you should be able to sing here.”
“Oz doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Lily said. “I’d love to be a singer, but I doubt it’s going to happen.”
“Now you’re the one who’s being modest.”
“How do you know?”
“I can tell.”
“Is that so?” Lily looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “So what do you think about Chandler High so far?”
“It’s okay, I guess,” Colt said as he brushed his hand casually under his nose, just in case something was hanging. “I thought there would be more cowboys.”
“Does that mean everyone in San Diego wears board shorts and bikinis to school?”
“Pretty much.”
Lily smiled. “Then I’m glad I live here. That would be embarrassing.”
“You get used to it,” Colt said with another shrug. “The guy who taught shop used to wear a Speedo and construction boots.”
Lily laughed. “That’s disgusting.”
“You should have seen how much hair he had on his back.”
“Okay, now I’m not going to be able to eat my lunch.”
“Sorry,” Colt said. “Have you ever been to San Diego?”
“I was just there last weekend.”
“Seriously?”
“My parents own a condo on Imperial Beach, so we go there a lot. I love falling asleep to the sound of the waves. I bet you miss it.”
“A little.”
Lily lowered her eyes. “Look, I know that you’re probably tired of hearing this, but I’m really sorry about your parents.”
“Thanks,” Colt said. “They say everything happens for a reason, but I don’t know. It feels so random.” He paused, his mind drifting to some forgotten memory. “It still doesn’t seem real. I mean, I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up and everything will go
back to the way it was.”
He turned to Lily and saw that her eyes were red. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no idea why I said any of that.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“It’s weird, but I haven’t even been able to talk to my own brothers about what happened, and here I go blabbing to a stranger.”
“I understand . . . more than you know, actually.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Colt saw someone moving toward them. His chest constricted as he envisioned another Trident assassin. He was about to step in front of Lily, but when he recognized Graham St. John, he relaxed—a little. Guys with beautiful girlfriends could be territorial, and Colt had enough problems at the moment. He didn’t need to start a rivalry with one of the most popular guys in the school.
“Hey, Lily,” Graham said, reaching down to kiss her on the cheek.
“Have you met Colt McAlister yet?” she asked. She gave a quick wipe to her eyes.
“My name’s Graham,” he said.
His smile appeared genuine as he extended his hand. Not what Colt expected.
“Welcome to Chandler High.”
“Um, Lily was just showing me where the Spanish room was,” Colt said. “I mean, I know where it is and everything, it’s just that Oz . . . you know Oz . . . ?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get him to play football since he was in seventh grade. Can you imagine what a quarterback would think if he saw Oz lined up, ready to knock his head off?”
Colt didn’t hear a word. He was too worried that Graham thought he was trying to hit on Lily. “Oz is supposed to show me around this week, but he had to go somewhere. I guess he figured Lily was heading this way, so he asked her to take me to my class.”
Graham put his arm around Lily. “You’re in good hands,” he said. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m going to be late. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself.”
“No problem,” Colt said.
“Are we still on for lunch?” Graham asked.
Lily nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
“He seems like a really nice guy,” Colt said as Graham disappeared into the crowd.
“Yeah. He is.”
Colt felt a pang of jealousy, which he knew was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure why he was so smitten by Lily. Sure, she was beautiful, but so were half the girls in San Diego. It didn’t make any sense. Then again, nothing in his life made sense at the moment.
