Alienation (27 page)

“That it had something to do with Senator Bishop . . . and that he didn't die from a heart attack.” Colt made sure he was looking directly into Lobo's eyes. “He was murdered.”

“I haven't seen mention of that in any of the reports.”

Colt shrugged. “Your name came up too.”

“Really?”

“They think you did it.”

Lobo grabbed him by the shirt and drove him against a post. “Don't play games with me, boy,” he said, his lip curled into a snarl. “I want to know everything that you heard.”

Colt struggled to breathe, and Lobo relaxed his grip, though not by much. “Operation Nemesis is a covert project where you're working with an assassin to eliminate people like Senator Bishop, or anyone else who threatens to cut your funding or replace you.”

“I don't suppose you were accessing files that you weren't supposed to see, were you, Kirsten?” Lobo asked, though he didn't bother looking at Ms. Skoglund.

“It doesn't matter,” Colt said. “They already knew.”

“And who is they?”

“The Department of Alien Affairs. They've been investigating you for over a year.”

Lobo smiled. “They need me, you know. The politicians might not admit it—not to you or the reporters or the sheep that vote them into office, but it's true. They rely on men like me to do the work they aren't willing to do.”

“Murdering innocent people?”

“Innocent? Tell me something . . . when the Thule come in force—and they will—who do you think will stand on the front lines? The politicians? Their sons and daughters? Of course not. Yet they sit in their ivory towers and slash our funding so they can pander to voters . . . the same voters who will be slaughtered because we don't have the weapons to defend ourselves. And I'm the murderer? I've done everything I can to save the masses, and if that calls for a few casualties along the way, then so be it!”

As Colt watched over Lobo's shoulder, Agent Graves morphed into Heinrich Krone. The assassin pulled out an H&K USP 45 with a tactical light mounted beneath the barrel. He pointed it at Ms. Skoglund, and that's when the lights went out.

She took advantage of the diversion and ducked behind the old Ford before he could fire his weapon. At the same time, a red light no bigger than the tip of a drinking straw danced across Krone's chest. It bobbed like a gnat until it landed in the middle of his forehead.

“Get down!” Lobo shouted.

There was a pop, followed by the sound of shattering glass. A tranquilizer dart ripped through the barn, narrowly missing Krone before it bit into the wall. At the same time, metal canisters the size of soda cans broke through the windows, filling the room with noxious smoke.

Men in riot gear burst through doors and windows, the beams from their tactical lights crisscrossing through the darkness like incandescent threads of spiderweb. They were dressed in black from their helmets and ski masks to their gloves and boots. Each wore infrared goggles, and they were armed. Colt thought he could see Giru Ba, and he couldn't tell if Grandpa was standing next to the Ford. His eyes burned from all the smoke.

“We'll take the tunnels!” Lobo ran toward one of the stalls, but Krone hesitated. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a concussion grenade, and set the detonator.

“Grenade!” Colt shouted.

The safe choice would have been to get as far away from the barn as he could, but when Colt heard the sound of a door slamming shut, he knew where Lobo and Krone had gone. There must have been an entrance to the underground tunnel system hidden in the floorboards, and Colt wasn't about to let them get away. He dived into the stall and scrambled on his hands and knees, his fingers searching for the entrance.

“Come on!”

His fingers finally found a brass handle on the floor, and he pried the trapdoor open as a shockwave shook the building. Bats shrieked, windows exploded, and the ceiling caved in as he slipped into the darkness. He didn't fall far, but the ground was hard and air burst out of his lungs.

The darkness was suffocating, and the walls felt like a tomb as he lay still, listening for any sound of Lobo or Krone. All he could hear was a constant ringing sound, which he figured was an aftereffect of the grenade. He pulled out his LED flashlight and flicked it on. He was in an empty room with cement block walls and a low ceiling that exposed rafters overrun by cobwebs.

“Colt . . . can you hear me?” Danielle asked. Her voice sounded faint, and there was a slight crackle, but Colt was just happy that he wasn't deaf. “Please tell me you made it out of there.”

“Not exactly.” He stood on uneasy legs. “I'm in some kind of cellar under the barn. Where's Ms. Skoglund?”

“She's safe, and so is your grandpa,” Danielle said. “Did you see what happened to Lobo and Krone?”

“They're down here with me.”

“What?”

Colt walked over to a wooden door that creaked as he opened it. On the other side was a narrow corridor choked in shadow. “It looks like the cellar connects with that tunnel system beneath the campus. There's no way we're going to find him.”

“Wait a minute,” Danielle said.

Colt could hear what sounded like a zipper, followed by a sound of shuffling papers. “Okay, I found the map that shows the tunnel system. I can't see any other entry or exit points near the barn.”

“What about the river?” If Lobo couldn't get to his SUV, the water was his best bet for escape.

“There's a boathouse about a quarter mile north.”

“That's where he went.”

“But—”

“Look, I know what you're going to say, but I have to finish this,” Colt said. “Tell Giru Ba to send a team of agents over there, and I'll make sure they don't come back this way.”

“You're going to get yourself killed.”

“I'll be okay. But I'm going to need your help.”

He decided not to use the flashlight. Lobo and Krone would be able to see a light long before he saw either of them. He'd rely on Danielle and her map to guide him through the twists and turns instead.

“Okay, you should see a slow curve up to the left,” Danielle said. “Once you make it past that, it should only be about two hundred yards to the boathouse.”

Colt stopped. He thought he heard voices. He crept forward, careful not to shuffle or scrape his boot against the ground. Up ahead, tiny eyes flashed yellow, and he could just make out the silhouette of what looked like a possum or a very large rat. It stared at him for a long moment before it turned and skittered into the shadows.

Suddenly the silence was overwhelming. The voices had stopped, but Colt pressed forward, each step an act of the will. His mouth was dry. His hands itched. He turned cautiously around the corner and something heavy hit him in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

:: CHAPTER 46 ::

I
don't know whether to be impressed or annoyed,” Lobo said as he kicked Colt in the ribs. Pain shot through Colt's body as he writhed on the ground, wondering if that was what it felt like to get hit by a locomotive.

“Krone set you up,” Colt said through clenched teeth. The words spilled from his tongue before he knew what he was saying, but judging from the expression on Lobo's face, it struck a nerve.

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm not the target, you are.”

Krone walked over and leveled his gun at Colt. “Those DAA agents will be here any minute,” he said to Lobo, as the beam from the tactical light burned in Colt's eyes.

“Do you know how many chances he's had to kill me?” Colt said, his eyes fixed on Lobo as he tried to stall. “I saw him standing outside our window back home. He had a clean shot, but he didn't take it. Or what about the rodeo? Or even the car chase? How did Ms. Skoglund run him off the road? It's not like she's a professional driver or anything. She's the only CHAOS agent who isn't allowed to carry a gun.”

“That's enough!” Krone's nostrils flared.

“He wants to get rid of you because he knows that you're the only thing that stands between us and them,” Colt said, desperate to appeal to Lobo's ego.

Krone lashed out, striking Colt in the face with the butt of his gun. It opened a gash beneath his eye, and blood poured down his cheek.

“It's true!” Colt ignored the pain as he pulled the Bola Cuffs out of his pocket and flicked them at Krone. Weighted ropes shot out as the disc struck the assassin in the chest. They wrapped around his shoulders and pinned his arms to his side, and Krone fell, flailing on the ground as his gun bounced into the shadows.

“That's an impressive trick, but I'm afraid it won't save you.” Lobo reached into his jacket and pulled out a Sig Sauer P226 with a silencer.

“I never asked for any of this,” Colt said. He held his arms out wide, trying to show that he wasn't a threat. “I don't want to run CHAOS . . . I don't even want to go to this school. If I had my choice, I'd be back in San Diego with my parents, but that's not exactly an option.”

Lobo raised the weapon, his hand steady and his face devoid of emotion. “Once you're gone, they'll realize that they should never have placed their hope in some ridiculous prophecy,” he said. “I am the only one who can save us from the coming onslaught.”

There was an echo of footsteps as someone came running down the tunnel.

“Dad, no!” Oz was out of breath, and his face was twisted in confusion—like he was trying to get his mind to accept what his eyes already knew. His father was a murderer.

“You shouldn't be here,” Lobo said.

“Why? Are you afraid that I'll see who you really are?”

Lobo smiled, but the expression held only sorrow. “I didn't have a choice. They were going to take everything away from me . . . from us . . .”

Krone bellowed as he continued to fight against the bindings that held him. His bones cracked and his skin turned to scales as two extra sets of arms grew out of his back. The man was gone, replaced by one of the Thule. It flexed once, and the Bola Cuffs snapped like they were made of twine.

Blinded by its rage, Krone attacked indiscriminately. The monster charged at Lobo, who fired three shots into its chest, but it wasn't even fazed. Krone grabbed him by the face and threw him against the wall. Then it spun and its tail battered Oz, sending him to the ground.

The monster charged at Colt with jaws wide, but he rolled out of the way before it could bite him in half. Incensed, Krone grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him off the ground. Colt kicked to break free, and as he did, he could see Oz inching toward his dad's gun. He stood up on shaky legs and leveled the barrel at the Thule.

“Wait!” Colt shouted, afraid that he might get hit by a stray bullet.

“Relax,” Oz said. “It's just like target practice back in the desert . . . Aim. Exhale. And then pull the trigger.” He unloaded four shots, burying the bullets in the monster's back. The sound of its scream echoed through the tunnels as dirt and rock fell from the ceiling. Krone dropped Colt as Oz fired three more times, but the monster wouldn't fall.

Oz fired three more shots as the monster ran toward him with arms extended. Then two more. The magazine was empty, but Krone didn't stop. It swung, and as Oz ducked, its claws ripped through the wall.

“Hey, ugly!”

Krone turned to find Colt holding two silver canisters like he was a gunslinger in the Wild West. He sprayed the foam on the monster's feet and watched it expand. Krone tried to lift its legs, but they were cemented in place. Enraged, it beat its tail against the wall, and one of the rafters cracked.

“Come on,” Colt said. “We have to get out of here before there's a cave-in.”

“What about my dad?” Oz asked.

“Do you think you can carry him?”

“I can try.” Oz went to where Lobo lay, unconscious. The dirt around his head was saturated with blood, and his breathing was shallow.

“Hurry up,” Colt said, looking at the Thule. “I don't think that stuff is going to hold.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the foam started to crack.

“Get him out of here!” Colt said. “I'll take care of Krone.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go!”

Oz threw his dad over his shoulder and headed back down the tunnel, leaving Colt alone with the monster. It ran at him, but Colt dodged and struck it in the ribs with a palm strike. It swung again, but missed, smashing the wall.

There was no way he should have been able to dodge all six arms, but he did, weaving in and out, ducking and falling back. The Thule pressed the attack, but the monster couldn't touch him. It was as though Colt had some kind of extrasensory perception. Then he realized what was happening. It wasn't him . . . it was the alien DNA. It was both terrifying and exhilarating, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.

Colt slammed his fist into the monster's jaw, and its head snapped back. He followed it with an upper cut and then a palm strike to the snout. The monster wailed as Colt swung again, but that time it caught him by the wrist.