by Jon S. Lewis
“Sorry.” Colt stepped forward, disoriented.
“How can I help you, son?” The man behind the booth was missing teeth, and the tattoos that covered his old arms looked self-inflicted.
Colt could hear the grease bubbling in the fryers as corn dogs and funnel cakes turned golden brown. He was about to place his order when the hairs on the back of his neck started to rise.
:: CHAPTER 17 ::
Colt tried to appear inconspicuous as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes roving the crowd as he waited for the food. The line behind him had grown, but nobody stood out as a potential threat. There were no menacing glares, eye patches, or people with skull tattoos. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.
The man behind the counter pulled a funnel cake out of the fryer and shook off the excess grease before he dumped it onto a paper plate and sprinkled it with powdered sugar. Colt thanked him and paid, dropping the change into a tip jar that smelled like pickles.
Between the corn dogs, lemonade, and the funnel cake, his tray was almost too full. Slowly, carefully, he made his way toward the condiment station to grab some napkins and a few packets of mustard. Then he stopped short. A man was standing in the shadows up ahead, hidden between two trailers. His eyes glowed dim against the darkness, just as they had the other morning at the park.
Colt felt paralyzed. The thrum of his heart pounded, and in that moment he knew what it felt like to be hunted. His skin itched, his mouth went dry, and his eyes flitted as he looked for an escape route, but there was nowhere to run, no place to hide.
“Colt McAlister? Is that you?”
Startled, he turned to see a plump woman with a mess of blond hair that was twisted into a bun and held together by what looked like chopsticks. Her bangs were cropped short and streaked with pink, and her stylish glasses were perched on the end of her nose.
“Ms. Skoglund? What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. I didn’t know you were a rodeo fan.” The school secretary, who also happened to be an undercover CHAOS agent, stood in the midst of the throng holding a cloud of pink cotton candy. She tore off a piece, popped it into her mouth, and licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers.
Colt glanced back to the shadows, but whoever had been standing there was gone.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh, sorry.” He forced a smile. “I thought I saw someone, that’s all.”
It was clear from the look on her face that Ms. Skoglund didn’t believe him, but he didn’t know what else to say.
“Look, I’m probably the last person on your mind right now, but there’s something important I need to tell you, and I’m afraid it can’t wait.” She looked over her shoulder. “It won’t take long, I promise. In fact, we can walk and talk if you’d like. That way your food won’t get cold.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, confused but intrigued. Had she come here looking for him?
“Just a minute.” With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her cotton candy into a trash bin and reached into her purse for what looked like a ballpoint pen. She twisted it once and pressed down so it clicked. “That’s better,” she said as a small green light started to flash.
“What is it?”
“A little invention of mine.” She smiled like a proud parent. “It’s a kind of scrambler. You know, like a radar jamming device. If someone tries to record our conversation, all they’ll end up with is static. That way we can keep things between us.”
“Oh,” he said, wondering why someone would care about their conversation enough to record it.
“What I’m about to tell you is probably . . . well, no, it’s definitely going to sound insane, but if it wasn’t true I’d be at home reading about hunky vampires instead of standing here at a rodeo.” She paused, waiting for Colt to say something, but he didn’t. “Okay . . . here it goes.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Someone inside CHAOS wants you dead.”
Colt stopped, his face wrinkled in confusion as he tried to digest the words, but they didn’t make any sense. She nudged him out of the way before a man pulling a wagon with three screaming children could run him over.
“Up until yesterday, I was the lead investigator on the security breach at the Romero house,” she said. Her voice was low, and her eyes kept darting through the crowd. “Then I got . . . well, I suppose you would call it ‘reassigned.’ Apparently I started asking too many questions, but I’d already found this on Lobo’s personal computer.” She slipped a USB drive into Colt’s hand. “There’s a file called Operation Nemesis—as in the Greek goddess of revenge.”
“Okay,” Colt said, confused.
“One of the documents is a list of people who have been targeted for termination,” she said. “Senator Bishop’s name is on there . . . and so is yours.”
Colt thought back to the day he came home to find Senator Bishop and Major General Robert T. Walker of the United States Army sitting at the kitchen table with Grandpa. He hadn’t heard the entire conversation, but he got the gist. Washington wasn’t happy with the direction that CHAOS was heading, and they were ready to make a change at the top. They wanted to replace Lobo with Colt . . . but was that reason enough for Colt to end up on some kind of hit list?
“So now what?” he asked. “I mean, it’s not like I can call the police or anything. Are they even allowed to arrest people who work for CHAOS?”
“You have friends who will be looking out for you,” Ms. Skoglund said. There was a loud buzzing sound coming from her purse, and she checked the display on her phone. Color drained from her face as she read the text message. “I’m sorry, but I really have to go,” she said. “If everything works out the way I hope it will, then I’ll see you soon.”
“Wait . . . I’m leaving for Virginia tomorrow.”
She winked. “I know.”
Before he could ask what that meant, she slipped into the crowd and disappeared. He stood there trying to understand what had just happened. Then it hit him. If what she said was true, she had just risked her life to deliver that message.
:: CHAPTER 18 ::
Colt felt like a lamb in a den of wolves as he made his way back to Lily. Suddenly every face in the crowd was menacing, and everyone he walked past was a potential assassin. By the time he reached Lily, she was huddled under a space heater at the front of the line. People grumbled as he slipped passed them with his tray in hand. He squirmed through the tight spaces and offered one apology after another, but it didn’t help. The line was moving at a crawl, and everyone was anxious to get inside.
“I was beginning to think you’d left,” Lily said.
“Sorry.” He handed her warm lemonade and a cold corn dog as he explained how he had run into Ms. Skoglund, though he left out the part about Operation Nemesis. After a while the line started to move, and Colt tossed the soggy remains of the funnel cake into the trash.
“Come along then,” said a woman wearing a jacket with a Department of Alien Affairs patch. She proceeded to go over the rules, which included no touching or feeding the animals. They weren’t allowed to take any flash photography or stray from the path. Violators would not only be escorted outside the building, they would also face prosecution and likely incarceration.
“I wonder what would happen if we sneezed,” Colt said.
“Stop it,” Lily said, though she was smiling. “You’re going to get us kicked out before we have a chance to see anything.”
A set of double doors slid open, releasing a thick rush of wind that felt like summer in New Orleans. “This is incredible,” she said, slipping out of her jacket as they entered a forest of exotic trees that rose to the vaulted ceiling high above.
They walked together down winding paths lined with flowers where the blooms were as large as heads of lettuce. Colorful birds flew among the branches, serenading everyone who walked below. There were spotted frogs with wings like dragonflies, red monkeys with four arms, and creatures t
hat looked something like otters, though their bodies were covered in scales instead of fur.
Some of the handlers were actually aliens as well, and they drew as much attention as the animals. One had smooth gray skin and a long neck like a giraffe’s, with an oval head and a cluster of four eyes that sat over its narrow mouth. He was a Fimorian, an elegant race of philosophers and artists, and he smiled politely as guests posed for pictures beside him. One little boy even asked for his autograph, and he was pleased to oblige.
“Will you take my picture with him?” Lily handed Colt her phone and ran over to stand next to the alien. Her head barely reached his shoulders, and Colt had to tilt the phone so the lens was vertical.
He was about to take the shot when the hairs on the back of his neck rose. His eyes roamed the floor as he looked for anything unusual, and then he saw it—a blur of motion. Someone in a suit and trench coat ducked through the service door.
Colt rushed over to check the lock and found the door open. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Lily’s voice was a tense whisper. “It says employees only.”
Colt slipped inside. An explanation was either going to scare her or make her think that he was crazy, so he decided it was best to say nothing at all. He just hoped that Lily was the only person who had seen him. The corridor was dark and cold and smelled like a dog kennel that hadn’t been cleaned in a month. There was a cement block wall on his left, but on the right there was a series of windows that overlooked some kind of artificial ice cave where a creature that looked like a cross between a bear and a sloth paced back and forth.
Colt walked down the narrow corridor, hoping it didn’t lead into the pen of some monster that liked the taste of human flesh. He knew he shouldn’t be alone—that an assassin would want to separate him from a crowd so there were no witnesses. But it was too late to turn back now.
He looked over his shoulder to see the red glow of an exit sign above the door. Pipes groaned like the bowels of a ship, and something scampered across the floor. He heard a clattering sound, like a trash can being tipped over. Something brushed his shirt, and as he turned, someone grabbed him and threw him against the wall.
There was a loud crack as his head hit the cinder block, and for a moment he didn’t know where he was. Someone hit him in the stomach. He fell forward and fists pounded his back, sending him to the ground. It was filthy, and he could taste the tang of slime on his lips.
Colt lay writhing, his entire body in pain as strong hands grabbed him by his hair and pulled him to his feet. It was his only chance. He drove his shoulder into his attacker’s stomach, picked him up, and slammed him to the ground. Quick as he could, he slid his right knee under the guy’s left shoulder and his left leg under his neck, just as Oz had taught him. The attacker tried to push against Colt’s chest, but Colt grabbed his arm and slid his right leg up over the man’s head. He wrenched, completing the arm bar, and the man screamed in pain as his elbow joint threatened to pop.
“Who are you?” Colt asked, grimacing as he applied more pressure. He looked down to see eyes that glowed in the half light of the corridor. They belonged to a handsome man wearing a tailored suit.
“I’m your worst nightmare come true.”
Colt frowned as the man’s face morphed. Skin and bone stretched to form a long snout, shifting from soft pink to a rough green. The fabric of his jacket ripped away as two extra sets of arms grew out from its back and a tail slapped against the cement floor like a hammer. It was one of the Thule.
The door at the end of the corridor opened and light flooded the darkness. Colt turned to see Lily. Her arms were wrapped around her shoulders and she looked frightened, but someone pushed past her and she was gone. A man in a dark suit and fedora, his strides long as raced toward Colt and the monster, shouted, “Don’t move!” and raised a Glock 22 with a light mounted under the barrel.
More agents burst through the door as the Thule wrapped a massive hand around Colt’s face and threw him against the wall. There was a cracking sound as the back of his head smashed against brick. Colt fell, dazed, as the agents drew near. He opened his eyes long enough to see the DAA badge hanging from the belt of the first man.
“Put your hands in the air, now!” the agent said.
The Thule hissed before it turned to run. The agent fired, and light flashed as an explosion echoed against the walls. Frightened animals howled, but Colt couldn’t hear anything except a high-pitched whine, like the feedback when a microphone gets too close to a speaker. Two more shots rang out, and though he was disoriented, Colt watched the monster slip out the back door and into the night.
:: CHAPTER 19 ::
Colt had wanted the night to be memorable, but it looked like it was going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons. He stood handcuffed in the shadows of the doorway, his head swimming. The animals inside their cages filled the air with their discordant cries, like a symphony orchestra warming up before a performance.
Agents from the DAA were in the process of clearing the exhibit floor, but it wasn’t an easy task. Frustrated patrons had waited in line too long to be swept away without explanation. A heavy man wearing a crooked toupee demanded the badge number of another agent. “You’ll hear from my lawyer,” he said, his face red and his forehead beaded with sweat. “I have rights, you know.”
The agent standing next to Colt had a pointed nose and a strong jaw that was shaved as clean as his scalp. His eyes were intense and his brow furrowed as he watched the commotion from beneath the brim of his fedora. He wasn’t holding his gun any longer, but Colt could see the bulge under his suit coat.
“Look, I know I shouldn’t have been back there, but if you would just let me explain,” Colt said, but it was a waste of time. The agent refused to acknowledge him, much less look at him. Colt looked around for Lily.
“All right, let’s go.” The agent grabbed Colt’s arm and led him across the exhibit floor. Most everyone had been evacuated, but lights flashed as someone wearing a press credential took several pictures of Colt before another agent stepped between them. Colt had a feeling he was going to end up on the front page of the morning paper, or worse—all over the Internet on news sites and blogs.
“Will you at least tell me what I’m being charged with?”
“For starters? Trespassing, which is more than enough to hold you for as long as it takes.”
“What about my friend?”
The agent smiled, his first sign of emotion. “She’s been detained for questioning.”
“But she didn’t do anything.”
“Then she won’t have anything to worry about.” The agent pulled Colt down a hallway, through a door, and into a cramped room that looked like some kind of temporary office space. The walls were bare, with the exception of a calendar that hung above an empty desk. There were three chairs and a filing cabinet, and that was it.
“Take a seat,” the agent said, pushing Colt into the nearest chair.
He stumbled, wrenching his bruised shoulder as he fell back. His vision was still a bit blurred and his head pounded from the creature’s slamming him against the cinder block wall.
“Do you have any aspirin?” Colt asked, but the door opened before the agent could answer.
A thick man who was unexpectedly short walked into the room carrying a briefcase and looking harried.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he set his briefcase on the desk. “I trust you’ve been introduced to Agent Parks.” He nodded at the agent, who was now standing in the far corner.
The man removed his fedora, smoothing out hair that was wringed with sweat. “My name is Agent Hester, and I’m with—”
“The Department of Alien Affairs,” Colt said. “Yeah, I saw the badge.”
“Very good,” Agent Hester said as he flipped the briefcase open. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
“I was just asking Agent Parks for an aspirin,” Colt said.
“Well, tha
t shouldn’t be a problem.” He turned around to face Agent Parks. “You wouldn’t mind, would you? Oh, and on your way out, could you remove the handcuffs? I don’t think we’ll be needing those any longer.”
Agent Parks hesitated, though only for a moment. Colt thought that he saw a sneer cross the man’s lips. He had a feeling that Agent Parks minded very much, but he did as he was asked and removed the cuffs before leaving the room in search of the aspirin.
“Better?” Agent Hester pulled back his jacket to adjust his waistband, and as he did, Colt saw the Glock 22 that hung from a holster on his hip.
“Yeah, thanks,” Colt said, rubbing at his wrists. The two agents couldn’t have been any more different, and it wasn’t just their appearance. Agent Parks was intense, but Agent Hester was kind, almost gentle. It was the old good cop, bad cop routine that Colt had seen in dozens of movies, and he wasn’t going to fall for it.
“I’ll admit that when I got the call, I was surprised to hear who we had in custody,” Agent Hester said as he opened a manila folder and leafed through the pages. “I mean, what with your saving the world from those nasty lizard men, I feel as though I should be offering my sincerest gratitude, but . . . well, here we are.”
There was a long pause as he stopped at a sheet of paper, his pointer finger going over each line carefully as his eyes roved back and forth. “You realize, of course, that you have placed your position as a cadet at the CHAOS Academy in jeopardy.” He flipped the folder shut and tossed it into his briefcase. “They have strict rules when it comes to admittance, and I’m afraid a felony trespass won’t do you any favors.”
Colt fidgeted in his chair. This was ridiculous. All he did was sneak into the feeding area of some intergalactic zoo. How was that a felony?
“Of course if you cooperate with our investigation, I might be able to help . . . though I can’t make any promises. You understand.”
Not really, Colt thought. He didn’t understand at all. “What investigation?”
