by Jon S. Lewis
If his throwing motion hadn’t made his head drop, Colt would have been decapitated. Instead, the bolt from the cannon fizzled in the sky before it dissipated. Colt looked up to see that the grenade was stuck to the Tracker’s head. He could hear it start to beep. It was slow at first, but it sped up.
Colt burst into the sky as the grenade exploded. He turned so he could see the Tracker’s casing buckle as fire and smoke erupted. The cannon bent and the lights shattered as the Tracker teetered and fell. The earth shook. Moments later the engines caught on fire, followed by a chain of explosions as sheets of metal burst into the sky.
Three more CHAOS airships descended from above with guns flared as agents in jet packs poured out from the doorways. Below, the flashing lights from emergency vehicles approached Trident’s campus. They weren’t alone. News trucks filled with reporters and cameramen were on the scene. Average citizens had come as well. People were lined around the fence trying to get a look at the commotion inside.
Colt saw one of the Thule standing with two hands behind its head while the others were held straight out as CHAOS agents approached with handcuffs. Another Sentry exploded in front of a cameraman.
“Did you get that?” Colt heard a reporter ask as a limousine pulled around to the back of the main building. The driver got out and ran to open the back door as Aldrich Koenig approached the vehicle.
: : CHAPTER 55 : :
Colt didn’t hesitate. He dove toward the limousine as Koenig slipped into the back. Any hope of a sneak attack was destroyed when the driver looked up to see Colt flying toward them. He jumped into the front seat and slammed on the gas pedal before shutting his door. The tires spun and the back end swerved as the limo shot forward.
The driver finally pulled his door shut and Colt reached into one of the pouches on his belt to grab one of the concussion grenades. Setting the trigger mechanism as he flew wasn’t easy, but after fumbling once or twice, he managed to activate it.
He watched as the green light flashed. It was slow at first but as the countdown continued, it picked up pace. The beeping was loud, even over the rush of wind, and Colt started to worry that he wasn’t going to get close enough to the limo before it detonated.
The limo wound around a bend up ahead and Colt tried to follow, but a wall of trees cut him off. With a burst, he flew over the branches and continued his chase. The limo had to stick to the road, but the jet pack let Colt cut a straight course through the sky. With the seconds ticking, he got close enough to read the license plate before he threw the grenade.
His aim was off, but not by much. The grenade bounced off the asphalt and under the back bumper where it exploded. The impact sent the rear of the car bouncing into the air as the trunk flew open, spilling the contents across the road.
The rear tires bounced and the driver fought to regain control as the broken bumper—or what was left of it—dragged across the asphalt. Sparks flew as the driver pulled hard to the left and then to the right but he was going too fast. The rear whipped around until the car was perpendicular to the road. It sped over the curve, tearing through the grass until it smashed into a tree.
The front end crumpled. Steam, or maybe it was smoke, poured out from under the hood as the horn blared. Colt swung around to the front where he saw the driver lying across a deflated airbag that covered the steering wheel. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing as blood poured from a gash across his forehead. It covered his face as though someone had dropped a bucket of crimson paint over his head.
The back door opened, and Colt watched Koenig step out from the limo and onto the road. Despite the destruction around him, Koenig’s smile was intact—though his suit coat was singed, his tie was askew, and there was a small cut under his eye where blood the color of seaweed trickled down his cheek.
You know, you’re becoming more of a problem than I had anticipated. Koenig wiped at the blood before straightening the cuffs of his shirt.
Colt stopped, hovering over the wreckage. Koenig hadn’t actually moved his mouth when he spoke. His voice had somehow invaded Colt’s thoughts.
“Come now, why the surprise?” Koenig asked. “Surely you’ve read enough of your comic books to know that we Thule use telepathy.”
There was an explosion behind them, followed by another. Colt turned to watch a third Tracker fall as a swarm of airships hung in the airspace overhead.
“That wasn’t the only rift that was open,” Koenig said as a plume of fiery orange burst into the sky, followed by a billowing cloud of thick smoke that rose from the Tracker’s iron hide.
“It doesn’t matter, because you lost,” Colt said with satisfaction, figuring that even if Koenig couldn’t hear him, he’d be able to read Colt’s mind.
“Hardly,” Koenig replied, unperturbed as he glanced at the battlefield.
“Look around. It’s bad enough that you’re outgunned, but did you see all the camera crews? By morning, the whole world is going to know who you really are and what you’ve been doing. It’s over.”
Koenig crossed his arms. His smile widened as he shook his head. “This is but a blip,” he said. “We’ve put things in motion that can’t be undone, and soon enough this world will be ours.” He reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat. “Don’t worry,” he said as Colt tensed. “I’m not armed. It’s just a phone. After all, thanks to your handiwork, I’ll need a ride.”
“I don’t think so,” Colt said.
Fire burst from the jet pack as Colt shot toward Koenig, but the head of Trident Biotech sidestepped and brought his fists down on the back of Colt’s head. “I was content to let you go . . . at least for now,” Koenig said as Colt flipped through the air, head over feet until he crashed into the ground, tearing a path in the grass as he skidded out of control. “That won’t be possible now, of course.”
Koenig closed the distance quicker than a human should have been able. With outrageous strength, he picked Colt up by the collar and flung into a tree trunk. Colt groaned as his ribs cracked and the air rushed out of his lungs.
“I take no joy in killing a child, but I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice,” Koenig said as he approached Colt once more.
With his back against the tree, Colt fought to retain consciousness. His head was swimming and pain wracked his body. The aviator goggles he wore were off kilter and as he opened his eyes, Koenig was little more than a blur of motion. Colt tried to stand but he couldn’t. Instead, he raised his arms to block the blow.
Koenig reached down and grabbed Colt by his hair, pulling him to his feet. Colt grabbed his wrist, trying to pry him away. He struck Koenig’s arm, but it didn’t matter. Koenig took Colt’s head and smashed it against the tree.
Colt fell, slumped against the trunk. He felt the back of his head, and when he pulled his hand away, it was covered in blood.
“It’s a shame you’re paying for the sins of your parents,” Koenig said as he kicked Colt in the ribs.
Colt gritted as fiery pain shot through his side. He pressed his hands against the ground, trying to find the strength to stand. His fingers fell on something cold. He probed. It was metal, long and solid. Without looking, Colt knew it was a tire iron. He figured it must have flown out of the trunk when the concussion grenade exploded.
Koenig’s fist slammed into Colt’s face, and he could feel his eye swell shut. Koenig punched him again, this time splitting Colt’s lip. Each punch felt like a cinderblock bashing against his skull.
Through his good eye, Colt could see Koenig reel back to strike again. With his jaw clenched and nostrils flared, Colt swung the tire iron.
Somehow Koenig managed to shift his weight as he went from throwing a punch to dodging out of the way. Still, as quick as he was, he wasn’t quick enough. The tire iron struck him on the jaw with a loud crack, sending Koenig reeling backward.
: : CHAPTER 56 : :
For a moment, Colt worried that he may have killed Koenig. All he wanted to do was turn him over to the police. He did
n’t have to worry for long.
Koenig smiled, and his tongue found its way to the stream of green blood. It lingered for a moment as though he were savoring a decadent treat. “I’m impressed,” he finally said, rising to one knee. “But I wonder, do you have more where that came from?”
Colt didn’t know where the strength had come from, but he managed to stand on shaky legs. Then he took a step.
“Come on then,” Koenig said, chiding him. “That’s it.”
Colt took a second step, then another. Each felt impossible. The pain was unbearable, but he had to stop Koenig. He raised his arm to bring the tire iron down, but in a blur, Koenig’s hand caught Colt’s wrist. He squeezed, and Colt yelped as he dropped the makeshift weapon.
“You may beg for your life if you wish,” Koenig said. “I may even show mercy, though I doubt it. I’m afraid I’ve grown tired of our little game.”
With his free hand, Koenig slapped Colt across the face. Tears filled his eyes, which is why Colt didn’t trust what he was seeing— at least not at first. The air shimmered, like heat rising from the asphalt on a blistering summer day. Then Koenig was gone, and in his place stood one of the Thule.
“Who are you, boy, to think that you can challenge me?” Koenig asked in a mocking tone. His armored hide was covered in scales of blue and green and his snout was long, making Colt think of a dragon. A set of spiraling horns swept into the air behind the monster, and each of his six hands ended in claws that looked like they had been carved from stone.
One of those hands slipped around Colt’s neck before hefting him into the air. The grip was tight, forcing Colt to fight for each labored breath. His face turned red, then purple, and though Colt couldn’t be sure, he thought that the monster was smiling.
Colt clawed at Koenig’s arms. He kicked, but no matter what he did, Koenig wouldn’t relent. Then, just before Colt passed out, Koenig dropped him. The monster stood over Colt, looking down with placid curiosity. Colt gasped for breath as he reached for the tire iron, but it was out of his reach.
“Really?” Koenig asked as he kicked the weapon so Colt could take it. “Do you think that will help, or is this your survival instinct? You truly are a curious people.”
Colt’s hand touched the iron, but he didn’t have the strength to grasp it.
“It’s pathetic, really,” Koenig said. “Though I must admit that I’m impressed by your valor. Stronger men than you have given up much earlier. In fact, most of your kind start babbling, even crying as they beg for their pathetic lives.”
Colt looked up at Koenig. “You killed my parents,” he managed to say, though his voice was hoarse.
“Yes, I suppose I did,” Koenig said in an offhand manner. “Not directly of course, but you must understand, we warned your mother not to move forward with that article. I even had our corporate lawyers send her a threatening letter, but she ignored it. I suppose that must be where you get your spunk, no?”
Grimacing, Colt rose to his hands and knees.
Koenig sighed. “Clearly it is,” he said, and Colt thought he heard a tinge of admiration, odd though it seemed.
Koenig reached down, grasping Colt by his ankles. Colt could feel the blood rush to his head as he dangled in the air and he finally understood what a wishbone must feel like before it’s ripped in two.
“It’s a pity,” Koenig said. “Though, on the other hand, you would have been exterminated anyway.”
Colt wasn’t sure where the idea had come from, but it was all he had. He pressed the ignition switch of his jet pack, and though it sputtered for a moment, flames leapt from the engines, spraying Koenig in a horrible conflagration.
Koenig screamed, the sound as terrifying as it was shrill. He dropped Colt, bringing a set of hands to his charred eyes. “I can’t see!” he wailed as Colt cut the engine before rolling out of reach.
The scaled monster staggered as it cried out in agony. That’s when Colt saw the black truck speeding toward them. At first he thought it might be some of Koenig’s henchmen come to save their master, but as it neared, Colt saw that the driver was a CHAOS agent. He was wearing a ski mask, his eyes protected by heavy goggles and a gas mask strapped over his nose and mouth.
The brakes screamed as the truck skidded to a halt. A dozen soldiers poured out from the back, forming a ring around Koenig. The man-turned-monster hissed as he bared his teeth in a threatening posture. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with tears, but he was ready to fight.
One of the agents brought a rifle to his shoulder. When he pulled the trigger, a tranquilizer dart struck Koenig in the neck. Three other CHAOS agents did the same, and moments later Koenig was brought to his knees.
“You’re all fools,” Koenig said, though his speech was slurred as the drugs took hold. He fell to the ground, unconscious.
The agents didn’t waste time as they bound all six of Koenig’s hands. Then one slipped some kind of collar around the monster’s neck before they hefted him into the back of the truck. The door was shut and locked.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” one of the agents told Colt.
“I’ll be okay,” Colt said as he stared at the back of the truck. Koenig was in custody, but it didn’t matter. There was no relief. His parents were still dead.
Colt wasn’t ready to go with them—at least not yet. He hit the ignition on his jet pack and roared into the sky, leaving the confused CHAOS agent behind as he went to find Grandpa McAlister.
The old man was lying in the grass. His eyes were closed and it didn’t look like he was breathing. Colt felt his chest constrict as emotion welled inside him. His eyes filled with tears. Losing his parents was hard enough, but he wasn’t ready to bury his grandpa too.
Then Grandpa McAlister coughed and it was the most glorious sound that Colt had ever heard.
: : CHAPTER 57 : :
Before the dust had settled, video footage from the battle had found its way to the Internet. A Trident Biotech marketing executive got footage of one of the Trackers from his tenth-story window. He used the recording device in his phone, so the picture quality wasn’t great, but there was no denying it. Giant robots had landed in Chandler, Arizona.
He posted the video on a social networking site, and it received more than a million hits in less an hour. Then news agencies picked up the footage. It wasn’t long before military consultants and political pundits were on the air talking about what they thought had happened. The opinions ranged from the wild to the mundane, but nobody had real answers.
Someone even managed to get a video of the Phantom Flyer as the ultralights chased him. There was another video of a Sentry exploding. At first most everyone dismissed everything as a hoax. There were even rumblings that it was all part of a preview for a new summer blockbuster. Either way, just as Colt had predicted, by morning the whole world was talking about it.
After a long night in the emergency room, Colt sat on the couch at Grandpa’s house watching television. The sun hadn’t come up yet and he couldn’t sleep. Not after everything he had just been through. His ankle was wrapped so tightly he couldn’t move it, his eye was swollen shut, and his chest was wrapped in bandages thanks to three broken ribs.
Grandpa was seated next to him in his favorite chair. His arm was in a sling and there were stitches beneath the gauze on his forehead. He couldn’t sleep either.
“If giant robots weren’t strange enough, we’re just getting word that Trident Biotech has allegedly been running a mind control program using their biochip technology,” a news reporter said through the speakers on the television. “Apparently chips once thought to cure epilepsy and Parkinson’s disease were actually receivers that turned unsuspecting patients into sleeper-cell agents forced to do the bidding of Trident executives.”
The image on the television shifted from the reporter to footage of Aldrich Koenig being led into the police station. He raised his cuffed hands to try and hide his face, but it didn’t do much good.
“Their parent c
ompany, Trident Industries, has already seen its stock drop 60 percent within the first hour of trading, and it doesn’t look like it’s hit bottom yet,” the reporter continued. “Global markets are taking a beating as investors dump stocks in the face of what some are calling Armageddon. The Dow Jones has dropped over three hundred points since the opening bell.”
“What do you think, Grandpa? Is this Armageddon?” Colt asked as videos of panicked mobs roaming the streets of major cities around the world played on the screen.
Grandpa McAlister rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m not sure.”
“We stopped them, though, right? I mean, Agent Richmond said that the virus worked. We shut down Trident’s satellite, so they won’t be able to control people any more.”
“That’s what I’ve been told anyway,” Grandpa McAlister said, “I’m afraid we just waited too long.”
“So there’s going to be an invasion?”
“I wish I knew the answer, but I don’t.” Grandpa McAlister stared out the window and up at the sky.
“Yes, you do,” Colt said, though he meant no disrespect. He knew his grandfather was trying to protect him, but overnight the world had changed. The safety of mankind had always been an illusion, but now everyone knew. Colt knew. It was only a matter of time before a horde of aliens streamed into their world, and Colt felt helpless to stop it.
“After the war,” Grandpa McAlister said, his voice heavy with emotion, “we hunted them down. They called us exterminators, and I guess that makes us no better than the monsters we killed. But even then, we didn’t kill enough of them.”
“That’s not true,” Colt said. He winced as he sat up. The pills they gave him dulled the pain, but his ribs still ached. “I can’t imagine how many lives you must have saved because of what you did.”