by Jon S. Lewis
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” he said, kicking his backpack out of the way so he could stand without making a fool of himself. “So what have you been up to?” He leaned against the chair, then stood up straight when he realized how lame he must look.
“I got stood up for lunch the other day,” Miranda said.
“Really? By who?”
“You.”
“Wait, you were serious?” Colt said, still finding it hard to believe that Miranda Patel actually wanted to have lunch with him.
“Of course. What about—”
“Attention, all cadets,” a synthesized voice said through the speakers in the ceiling. “Jackal, Blizzard, Lightning, Phantom, and Anvil Squadrons need to report to Helipad Delta immediately. I repeat, Jackal, Blizzard, Lightning, Phantom, and Anvil Squadrons, please report to Helipad Delta. This is not a drill.”
“Phantom,” Colt said. “That’s me. I’ve got to go.”
Miranda’s eyes went wide and her dark skin grew pale. “Do you think we’re under attack?” she asked as a group of cadets ran past the study room, their boots echoing down through the hall.
“I doubt it; they would have made all the squads report.”
“Then what is it?”
Colt shrugged. “I guess I’m about to find out.” He started to walk past her, but she placed her hand against his chest.
When he looked down, their faces were mere inches apart. He was intoxicated by the scent of her hair. Her skin. Her breath. It felt warm against his neck, and he just stood there, unable to move as he looked into her eyes.
He swallowed. It felt like ten thousand fireflies were alight in his stomach at the same time, their tiny wings beating. Tickling. He wondered if he was going to faint.
She leaned closer, lips slightly parted. Her hand reached up and flames lit where her fingers caressed his cheek. She reached behind his head and drew him close. He thought about Lily and started to resist, but he was short of breath. As her lips touched his, there was an explosion of sensation.
“Come back,” she said, the words little more than a whisper in his ear.
He nodded, unable to form a coherent thought, much less a complete sentence.
: :
CHAPTER 12 : :
Two dozen cadets were already gathered at the helipad by the time Colt got there. Some were crying. Others looked angry. Most just stood there with blank stares.
He looked around to see if anyone else from Phantom Squad was there and spotted Danielle standing next to Jonas, who was patting her shoulder and speaking to her in hushed tones.
“What happened?” Colt asked.
Danielle turned and looked at him with tears in her eyes. For a moment he thought she was going to say something, but she just shook her head and buried her face in her hands.
“There was another attack,” Jonas said.
“What?”
“A portal opened up over Philadelphia about an hour ago, and it was big enough to let a Class 4 Hydra through—you know, one of the Thule carriers. Anyway, they aren’t sure how many are dead, but it looks worse than Rose Hill.”
“That was ten thousand people.”
“I know,” Jonas said. “They think this might be double.”
Colt felt as though someone had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer. Twenty thousand people. And if they didn’t do something soon, it was only going to get worse. “Are they sending us to Philly?” he asked.
“We’re still waiting for orders,” Jonas said.
No longer able to hold back, Danielle sobbed openly. Tears streaked her face, and her shoulders shook. Colt placed his arms around her, and she leaned against him. He stroked her hair but offered no words of encouragement. Telling her that everything was going to be all right would only be an empty promise.
More cadets joined them, and soon squads started to form, each distinguishable by its accent color. Jackal had orange insignias on their shoulder pads, chest plates, and helmets. Blizzard was light blue. Lightning was yellow. Anvil was purple. And Phantom was gray.
Besides Colt, Danielle, Stacy, Grey, and Glyph, the other members of Phantom Squad were Pierce, the arrogant blowhard, and Ethan Foley, Grey and Colt’s other roommate, and Jonas. Oz had been part of Phantom Squad before he was expelled, but Superintendent Thorne didn’t replace him. Even though it meant they were short one man, Colt took it as a hopeful sign. Maybe one day she’d let him back.
Most of the cadets milled about the helipad chatting nervously as they waited for orders, but Jackal Squad stood at attention on the periphery as Gulrukh Mirza, their squad leader, inspected their weapons. Colt thought about doing the same, but he was missing a member.
“Anyone see Pierce?”
“There he is,” Ethan said, pointing back toward campus. “Over there with the dog.”
“I don’t think that’s a dog.”
“Agreed, Squad Leader Colt McAlister,” Glyph said.
The creature on the other end of the leash looked more like a wolf than a dog, but its chest was too wide, its snout too short, and its coat was moss green. It loped toward them next to Pierce, taking long strides as it lowered its head to sniff the ground.
“What is that thing?” Jonas asked, taking a step back as the creature sniffed at his feet.
“A genetically altered Malinois.” Pierce smiled as though he was enjoying Jonas’s discomfort. “Her official name is Prototype A-F-6, but I call her Fang.”
“What’s she doing here?” Colt asked.
“She’s part of the Senate Intelligence Committee’s Alien Extermination Initiative. She tracks ’em, we kill ’em.”
“Most aliens do not require tracking or killing, Cadet Pierce Bowen,” Glyph said.
“Whatever. You know what I meant.”
“That doesn’t make it any less offensive. Besides, the vom-eronasal organ in the roof of my mouth makes me eminently more qualified to track scents than the primitive canines on this planet—including your prototype.”
“Get off me!” Jonas shouted. Fang was standing on her hind legs and licking his face.
“Heel!” Pierce yanked on the dog’s collar and she walked over to stand next to him, but her eyes were locked on Jonas.
“She’s a beauty,” said a voice behind them.
They all turned to see a creature that looked like it was part Bigfoot and part robot walking toward them. At well over seven feet tall, its massive body was covered in fur the color of rust. It had broad shoulders, muscles like iron cables, and a second head made out of metal and bolted over its left shoulder. If that wasn’t strange enough, its left arm and right leg had been replaced by mechanical prosthetics, making it look like some kind of freak experiment gone bad.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Pierce said.
“Let’s hope she’s as good in the field as she was in those tests.”
“She will be, sir. Guaranteed.”
Lieutenant Lohr smiled, revealing a wicked set of incisors as his second robotic head turned to stare at the dog. The cadets went quiet. “All right,” he said. “By now most of you have heard that there was a second attack just outside of Philadelphia. Before you start asking questions, I’ll tell you what I know.
“At least one Hydra slipped through the portal, and there are conflicting reports that one and possibly two transports made it through as well. That means we have up to one thousand unwelcome guests causing havoc up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
“Local authorities did their best,” he continued, “but those six-armed lizards made it all the way to New Brunswick before soldiers from the 10th Mountain Division engaged them. They’ve managed to slow them down, but the fighting is still hot and heavy. Reinforcements are on their way from as far away as Fort Bragg and Shaw Air Force Base, but things are a little dicey at the moment.”
“Are we going to New Brunswick?” a cadet from Anvil Squad asked. He was strong, with black hair and matching eyes.
“Next time you inte
rrupt me, Cadet Johnson, you’ll be on skid patrol.”
“Skid patrol, sir?”
“It means you’ll be scrubbing tighty whiteys by hand until your fingernails start to bleed. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jarrod Johnson on skid patrol? That would be hilarious,” Ethan said.
“You looking to join him?” Lieutenant Lohr asked.
Ethan gulped. “No, sir.”
“That’s what I thought.” Lohr turned back to the rest of the crowd, but his robotic head kept staring at Ethan. “Now, thanks to the stupidity of youth and those fancy battle suits, most of you think you’re invincible. But don’t fool yourselves. War is hell. Do you hear me? I can promise that the second one of those lizards comes charging at you, you’re going to want to ball up in a fetal position and call for your mamas, but there’s only one problem. Your mamas won’t be there to protect you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” a few of the cadets said in chorus.
“Again!”
“Yes, sir!” they all shouted.
“Better,” Lieutenant Lohr said. “Since most active duty military east of the Mississippi are on the front lines trying to stop those lizards from reaching New York City, we’ve been asked to pick up the slack. I need each squad leader front and center. The rest of you, sit tight. Your rides will be here any minute.”
: :
CHAPTER 13 : :
A Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopter took Phantom Squad to Beaver Valley Nuclear Power Plant outside of Shippingport, Pennsylvania, where an engineer claimed he’d seen strange shapes emerge from the river near the plant. He said that one of them even scaled the Shippingport Bridge like a giant spider.
“That’s just about far enough,” a man wearing what looked like riot gear said. He was short and plump and had a thick mustache that had grown over his lip, and even though he wasn’t very intimidating, he was holding an assault rifle with a grenade launcher mounted under the barrel. So were the two men who stood behind him.
“We’re with the Department of Alien Affairs,” Colt said, slowly raising his hands to show that he wasn’t a threat.
“Then what are you doing with that thing?” The man nodded at Glyph, whose eyes grew wide with fear.
“He’s with us.”
“I don’t think so,” the man said.
Colt narrowed his eyes. “Cadet Gundar is a cadet at the Intergalactic Defense Academy and is here under orders from the director of the Department of Alien Affairs. We’re here to check on a disturbance, but if you prefer we can turn around and leave.”
The man started chewing the inside of his lip as though contemplating what to do next. “How do we know he ain’t one of them?”
“Because he’s a Fimorian,” Colt said. “See? He has two arms, not six.”
“That’s true enough, I suppose,” the man said, lowering his rifle. “The name’s Damewood. Chadwick Damewood. I’m the head of security at this facility.”
“I’m Cadet McAlister, and this—”
“McAlister, you say?” Damewood interrupted. “Now where have I heard that name before?” He stroked his mustache as he cocked his head to the side. “Hey, wait. You’re that kid—the Phantom Flyer’s grandson, right?”
Colt rolled his eyes, which were hidden behind his helmet. “Yes, sir.”
“Ain’t you supposed to be traveling around with that air show and whatnot?”
“Right now I’m focused on helping you secure this facility,” Colt said.
“No offense, but it might be best if your alien friend there waited outside,” Damewood said. “The employees . . . well, let’s just say I don’t think they’ll take kindly to his ilk, if you catch my meaning.”
“No, I don’t,” Colt said.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
After the meeting they broke into teams. Colt led Alpha Team—Danielle, Glyph, and Jonas—through a sweep of the facilities, while Stacy led Bravo—Pierce and his dog, Grey, and Ethan—down to the riverbank.
The facility was massive, with cement walls, miles of pipes, and far too many nooks and crannies where Thule could hide. Glyph spent most of the time hunched over as he ducked through doorways and patrolled halls that weren’t built for someone his height.
Everyone in the plant was on edge, and it didn’t take long to discover that the employees were upset that management had let an alien onto the premises.
“What’s that thing doing here?” one asked.
“Since when do humans mix with their kind?” another said.
Glyph acted like he couldn’t hear them, but Colt was growing frustrated.
“We should round ’em all up and kill ’em before they turn on us,” said a short man with a thick mat of orange hair.
“What did you say?” Colt demanded.
The color drained from the man’s face as Colt stepped toward him.
“I asked you a question.”
“Don’t.” Danielle placed her hand on Colt’s shoulder, but he pulled away.
“His words are protected by the First Amendment, Squad Leader Colt McAlister,” Glyph said as he placed his hand on Colt’s shoulder. “And in truth, I cannot fault him for being afraid. We all are.”
Colt glared at the worker, who stood there with his back against the wall. “Go on,” he said, and the man practically ran down the hall before he disappeared around a corner.
“Thank you for standing up for me,” Glyph said. “But it truly wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes. It was,” Colt said.
“Wait a minute,” Danielle said. “Have either of you seen Jonas?”
: :
CHAPTER 14 : :
They searched the facility for nearly an hour before a security guard said that one of the cameras had caught Jonas leaving the facility and heading for the riverbank.
His tracks were easy enough to follow. They led across the lawn and down a path to the river, but they stopped at the water.
“Can you pick up his scent?” Colt asked, turning to Glyph, who just shook his head.
“He wasn’t wearing a jet pack,” Danielle said. “And if he tried to swim to the other side, he would have died from hypothermia.”
“I don’t see any signs of struggle,” Glyph said.
“So he just disappeared?” Colt asked, frustrated as he tried to make sense of what had happened.
“Bravo Leader, this is Alpha Leader, over,” Colt said into his comlink.
“This is Bravo Leader,” Stacy replied.
“Any luck?”
“Not unless you count losing Pierce’s stupid dog,” she said. “He let it off its leash, and it bolted.”
“Please tell me that was a joke.”
“Sorry.”
