Alienation (20 page)

“You're kidding, right?” Colt said. “There're going to be four of us in here?”

“Relax.” Oz walked over and pressed his thumb against a small sensor on the top drawer, and it lit orange. “We're just here to sleep,” he said. “If you aren't training or eating, you'll spend most of your time down in the study lounge.” He placed his thumb against the sensor again, and this time it lit green. The drawer opened, and inside were a second uniform, enough socks and underwear to last a week, some toiletries like deodorant, a toothbrush, some toothpaste, and a small silver case that wasn't much larger than a hardback novel.

Oz pulled it out and sat down on one of the bottom bunks with his back against the wall and his long legs hanging over the side. He removed the metal case, and underneath was a sleek tablet computer with a touch screen. “Most of the campus is a dead zone, so you can't go on the Internet, but Danielle said she'd help us try to find a way around.”

The door opened and two more cadets walked in. The first was Grey, the kid who got stuck mopping up after everyone. He took the top bunk, leaving the bottom for Ethan Foley, who had recently moved back to the States after spending a few years in Dubai, where his father had overseen the construction of a luxury resort that boasted the world's largest swimming pool.

Colt looked at the clock on the dresser. He didn't feel much like conversation, and there were still twenty minutes before lights out, so he decided to get some fresh air. “I'll be back in a while,” he said.

“Where are you going?”

“I don't know. I just want to clear my head.”

Snow covered the landscape in a blanket of white as he walked down the winding path that led past the girls' dormitory. He wondered how Danielle was getting along with the other girls, and if she had already found a way to patch into the school's network so she could send an e-mail to her parents. She'd never been gone from home for more than a week, and that was to a summer camp with the youth group at her church. Since her mom was one of the chaperones, Colt figured that didn't count.

Right now everything seemed like an adventure, but in a few days the reality of the commitment that it took to be a cadet was bound to sink in. The walls around the school grounds were meant to do more than keep unwanted guests from getting inside; they also made sure that nobody wandered away.

Colt crossed under the shadow of a bell tower that rose above the chapel. In a few minutes the bell would ring ten times, and at that point the cadets were expected to be in their rooms, lights off and quiet. He thought about heading back; after all, he didn't want to get in trouble on his first day. But just then he heard the sound of feet shuffling down the path toward him.

He skirted off the path and slipped into a cluster of trees where he could see the headstones in the cemetery. The canopy of branches kept most of the snow at bay, but the ground was covered in rotting leaves that crunched with each step, making any attempt at stealth nearly impossible.

It wasn't long before he saw two figures walking down the path, shoulders hunched and heads down. Colt felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and his heart started to pound inside his chest. That only happened when Krone was around, but the person on the left was Agent Graves, and he was walking with Giru Ba, who didn't look anything like one of the Thule. So where was Krone?

Colt tried to shift his weight, but as he did his heel came down on a dead branch.

Agent Graves stopped. “Did you hear that?”

“It was probably just the wind,” Giru Ba said.

“I don't think so. It came from over there.” He pointed directly to where Colt was hiding.

“I don't see anything,” she said.

Agent Graves took a step toward the trees, and for a moment Colt thought he'd been spotted. He held his breath and considered running, but Agent Graves turned and headed down the path with Giru Ba, back toward the main building.

Colt exhaled, but he didn't relax—not if Krone was out there somewhere watching him. Besides, according to the clock on his wrist communicator, there were only a few minutes until lights out. His only chance was to cut through the woods and hope he didn't get turned around.

He forged deeper into the cluster of trees, hoping that he could reach the dorm before he ran into Krone. The moon was little more than a sliver in the night sky, offering precious little light as he tried to avoid gnarled roots and annoying bushes with nasty thorns.

Something moved in the distance, and he spun to see the silhouette of a raccoon scamper into a tree. Relieved, he shook his head and exhaled, wondering why he had gone on the walk in the first place. It felt like the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees, and even though the heated fibers of his uniform kept him relatively warm, he was ready to crawl into bed and fall asleep beneath his wool blanket.

He kept walking, keeping the rushing water from the Potomac River off to the right, but he should have found the dorm by now. There wasn't enough time to backtrack and make it to his room before curfew, so he decided to make for a nearby hill, hoping that would give him a clear view of the campus.

Distracted, he didn't notice rotting slats of wood that spanned what looked like some kind of mine shaft. The boards creaked at the weight of his step before they snapped. Colt had no idea what had happened as he fell into the darkness.

The impact sent the air rushing from his lungs, and he groaned, disoriented as he writhed on the ground. He rolled over and forced himself to sit up. Remnants of moonlight slipped through a narrow opening that was at least ten feet up.

The minute remaining before curfew was the least of his problems. From what he could see, he had fallen into a tunnel. The walls were curved, and so was the ceiling, so climbing back out would be difficult, if not impossible. He tapped on the display of his wrist communicator, trying to reach Danielle, but he couldn't get it to work underground. Frustrated, he wondered who had built the tunnel, and why. Thoughts of subterranean monsters filled his head, but he pushed them away as he tried to determine which direction to take. There was no point of reference, which meant one direction was as good as the next. He decided to go left.

Unable to see, he used the wall as his guide. It was damp and cold, and he could feel the hairy roots of the trees sticking out from the dirt surface. Panic tried to grab hold of him with each step, but Colt pushed forward, knowing that his only other option was to sit where he'd fallen through and wait for morning. Even then, there was no guarantee that anyone would find him.

He was about to give up when his hand fell on what felt like a ladder that was bolted to the wall. When he got to the top, he found another wooden grate. With one arm locked around the rungs, he pressed his hand against the slats. They resisted at first, but with a little effort he was able to push them away. He was in a well—or at least something that was built to look like a well. The library was nearby, which meant he was close to the dorm. There was only one problem. He was past curfew.

His first thought was to try and get hold of Oz using his communicator, but he forgot how to scramble the message, and if their transmissions were monitored, the staff would know he had broken the rules. He decided to at least try the doors to see if they were unlocked.

He crawled out of the well and headed back toward the dorm, but stopped when he saw someone standing on the front step. “I was starting to think that you wouldn't make it,” Giru Ba said.

Colt glanced about the shadows, looking for Agent Graves.

“Don't worry,” she said. “I'm alone.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“That answer is more complicated than you might think. For now, let's just say I thought you might need a bit of help.”

:: CHAPTER 34 ::

C
olt woke up the next morning with his bed shaking violently. Not knowing if it was an attack or an earthquake, he jumped out of the top bunk and onto the floor. His eyes were wild as he stood in a crouch, his tired brain trying to assess whether he should run or stay and fight.

It didn't register that someone was laughing until he saw Oz. “What are you doing?” he asked as he stood in his boxer briefs.

“Consider it your wake-up call.” Oz walked over and flipped on the lights. “Hurry up and get dressed or you're going to miss breakfast.”

“What time is it?” Colt asked as he looked outside the window. It was dark, and the moon was still out, though it was hidden behind a bank of gray clouds.

“Almost five thirty.”

Breakfast wasn't anything like the feast they had eaten the night before, but it was better than Colt expected. There were scrambled eggs—the real kind, not that powdered mix like they served at summer camp—along with sausage, oatmeal, and whole grain toast. They even provided energy drinks.

“You better take two.” Oz grabbed a second from the cooler and placed it on Colt's tray. “What's with you, anyway? Were you up all night or something?”

Colt shrugged. “Kind of. I'm not used to the mattress.” He wasn't about to mention how he had seen Agent Graves and Giru Ba, that he was almost certain Krone had been tracking him on campus, or how he'd fallen into some kind of tunnel. None of it made sense.

He needed to talk to Danielle, but she wasn't in the dining hall. Most of the cadets had already left for their first-hour classes. He spotted Pierce in the back of the room, hunched over as he whispered something to the other cadets at his table. Colt made eye contact for a moment, then turned away, picking a chair so that Pierce was stuck looking at his back.

He ate quickly, wondering how he was going to keep from falling asleep in class. He barely had the energy to keep his eyes open, much less walk from one building to the next. “I'd do anything for a mocha cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso,” he said as one of the service bots took his empty plate.

Oz grabbed an energy drink, cracked the lid, and plopped it down in front of Colt. “I'm telling you, one of these will wake you up. Two will make you think that you can fly.”

Colt brought it to his nose and sniffed. “It smells like an orange Creamsicle.” He took a swig, and the effects were almost immediate. It was like someone had injected caffeine straight into his bloodstream. His fingers and toes started to tingle, and his eyes opened wide. “What's in this thing?” he asked, looking at the label.

“I don't know. But whatever it is, it works.”

According to the schedule, their first class was Basic Combat Techniques. The building was on the other side of campus, on a hill that overlooked the Potomac River. It looked like one of those warehouse clubs, except instead of metal shelves crammed with bulk food items, everything inside was dedicated to the art of self-defense. Lohr stood in one of the boxing rings with a cluster of cadets, including Danielle and Stacy, waiting for class to begin. Colt wanted to pull Danielle aside to tell her what had happened, but he didn't get a chance before the bell rang.

“All right, listen up,” Lohr said, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. “I'm supposed to teach you how to defend yourselves against monsters that make me look like a furry little kitten, but most of you wouldn't even last thirty seconds with your own grandmothers.”

A few of the cadets laughed.

“Somehow, some way, I'm going to mold each one of you into a living weapon capable of things that you never dreamed possible—but you're going to have to do your part. That means total dedication from the moment you walk into this gym until the time you leave. If the Thule are on their way, as we think they are, then there's a good chance you'll be the last batch of recruits that will have time to train. So if you fail, we all die.”

Nobody made a sound.

“Today we're going to pair up and do a little sparring,” he said. “I've seen your files, but as far as I'm concerned a black belt doesn't mean anything, and I couldn't care less if you were on the varsity wrestling team back home. I want to see what you can do with my own two eyes, so let's have Romero and Jomtong front and center.”

“Nice,” Oz said. “His dad was a Muay Thai champion. This should be fun.” He had a wide grin as he climbed into the ring.

Colt wasn't sure that fighting Jomtong would be his idea of fun. He watched him walk up the steps and slide between the ropes. The cadet was thin but muscular, and even though he was eight inches shorter and nearly a hundred pounds lighter than Oz, he didn't look nervous. In fact, his eyes smoldered like a mongoose eyeing a king cobra.

“Before any of you start complaining about the size differential, you need to understand something,” Lohr said. “There's no such thing as a fair fight, so you might as well accept it and move on. There will always be someone bigger and stronger, which means you need to use your head, not just your fists, knees, and elbows.” He looked at Oz, then Jomtong, and he smiled. “Are you two ready?”

They both nodded.

“Fight!”

They circled around the center of the ring, looking for an opening. Oz feigned with his right hand, pulled back, and struck. The quick jab would have knocked Jomtong across the ring, but Jomtong was too quick. He connected with a straight foot thrust to Oz's stomach, knocking him off balance. Then he ran and jumped, using Oz's thigh as a springboard. His knee bashed into Oz's jaw, and with a loud crack, Oz fell to the mat.