Alienation (25 page)

“This is O'Keefe,” the agent said, speaking into the communicator on his wrist. “We need a medibot in simulation room four, and we need it now!”

“Really, I'm fine.”

“Nonsense,” Agent O'Keefe said. “Now let me take a look at that.”

Colt raised his arm to show him the gash across his ribs.

“In all my years, nothing like this has ever happened,” Agent O'Keefe said. “I swear on the Holy Bible that I programmed a Level One scenario, but somehow it ran at Level Three. I don't know what went wrong.”

Colt's first thought was that Krone had broken into the system and changed the settings, just as he'd done with that robot back at Oz's house.

The doors to the simulation room opened, and a white robot with a red cross on its chest plate rolled in. It was squat, with a perfectly square body, a flat head, long arms with delicate fingers, and track wheels like a miniature tank.

“Over here,” Agent O'Keefe said, waving his thick arm. “As for the rest of you, you're dismissed.”

Pierce hesitated before he moved close enough that Colt could hear him whisper. “This isn't over . . . not by a long shot.”

:: CHAPTER 42 ::

I
t was more than an hour before Colt was allowed to leave the training facility. The medibot made him strip to his boxer briefs, which wasn't as easy as it should have been. His uniform had fused with the skin around his rib cage, and it burned as he peeled the fabric away.

“There's a good lad,” Agent O'Keefe said, watching Colt wince as the medibot dabbed at his wounds with rubbing alcohol. When it was done, the machine patched him up with some gauze and medical tape before it went through a series of tests, checking his blood pressure, heart rate, and reflexes. Then it ran an X-ray. There were no broken ribs, but they were bruised, and according to the report it left, they were going to take at least three weeks to heal.

“I don't know what happened, but we'll get to the bottom of this,” Agent O'Keefe said as he handed Colt a fresh uniform. “In the meantime, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” Colt said.

“And don't you worry about that Bowen boy. Pierce, is it? He's all bark and no bite, if you catch my meaning.” Agent O'Keefe winked before he took the stairs back up to the observation deck. A team of investigators had already assembled inside. Colt thought that he could see Ms. Skoglund, but she disappeared behind a wall before he could be sure.

It wasn't quite five o'clock, but the lights that lined the walkways had already flared to life, creating a warm glow against the drab gray of twilight. What was left of the sun remained buried behind a bank of clouds, and from the look of things, they were destined to erupt with another winter storm.

Colt thought about going to the library so he could study, but he decided to head back to his dorm instead. He wanted to be alone so he could process everything that happened in the training scenario. Besides, the medibot had given him some pain medication and it was making him drowsy. He figured a quick nap before dinner might do him some good.

As he walked, he looked at his hands, wondering how long it would take before he started to show physical signs that he was turning into an alien. Who would be his friend when his body was covered in green scales? He supposed that turning into a genetic freak was a small price to pay if that's what it took to save the world.

“There you are!”

Colt turned around to see Danielle walking across the lawn. Her ears and nose were red from the cold, and he could see her breath streaming from her lips. “I tried to wait in the hall, but a security guard told me I had to leave,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Colt shrugged. “My ribs are a little sore, but they gave me some pills that are supposed to help with the pain.”

“I'm sorry about what happened with Pierce.” She removed a strand of hair from her eyes. “He's such a jerk.”

“It's no big deal,” Colt said. Besides, I've been thinking . . . maybe he's right.”

“Are you serious?”

“What if I wake up tomorrow and I'm a full-blown monster?”

“But you controlled it in the simulation room, right?”

“Kind of,” Colt said. “Something inside of me snapped, and I just reacted.”

“You saved my life.”

“It was only a simulation.”

“A Level Three simulation,” she said, correcting him. “If Intellitron had thrown me off the ledge, I would have been killed.”

“Then I guess turning into a freak is already paying off.”

Danielle went to hug him, but before he realized what had happened, she stabbed him in the neck with a syringe.

“Dani . . . wha . . . ?” His fingers started to tingle, and his lips grew heavy, like they were made of rubber. He tried to speak, but he couldn't form a coherent thought, much less make his jaw move. What had she done? His body started to sway, and then his knees gave out. He wanted to stand, to call for help, but he couldn't move. Then everything went black.

:: CHAPTER 43 ::

C
olt woke up in a strange bed feeling nauseous and disoriented. His skin ached, he had the chills, and his forehead was covered in sweat. He tried to sit up, but the sudden movement was more than he could handle.

He closed his eyes and reached into his brittle memory, trying to piece together how he got there. The fragments were disjointed, but after he left the training center he ran into Danielle. They talked and then . . . Colt's hand went to his neck. Had she stuck him with a needle, or was that just a dream?

His mind was in a fog as he peeled back the comforter, took a deep breath, and slowly sat up. There was a draft in the room, and all he had on was a pair of boxers. Someone had set some socks and blue jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt on the dresser, along with a pair of tennis shoes at the foot of the bed.

Arms shaking, he tried to steady himself against the mattress. He noticed a spot of blood that had seeped through the gauze taped to his ribs. Another wave of nausea rolled through him as he stood.

He had no idea what time it was, much less the day. For all he knew, he'd been unconscious for a week. There wasn't any mirror, but he could feel that his lips were cracked, as though he hadn't had anything to drink for some time.

He peered through the slats on the blinds; it was dark outside. There was a wide lawn, and beyond that a cluster of trees that would offer decent cover if he could make it that far without getting spotted. Then he saw two men not more than ten feet away, wearing armored vests and carrying M4 Carbine assault rifles. It was hard to tell from a distance, but he thought they were CHAOS agents.

He stepped away from the window and shook his head, trying to remember anything that would give him a clue as to what was going on. He was certain that he had run into Danielle, but why would she have drugged him? Maybe Lobo had threatened her family . . . or maybe she had been working with him all along.

The thought left him feeling empty. His parents were dead. His brothers were scattered across the globe. There was a chance that his best friend was part of a conspiracy to kill him, and his own grandfather hadn't told him that the government had shot him up with blood from a dead alien. If he couldn't trust Danielle, he didn't have anyone left.

His frustration was quickly turning to panic, so he closed his eyes and tried to focus. The medallion Grandpa had given him still hung around his neck, and he took it in his hand and read the inscription. If Colt had ever needed a refuge and strength in times of trouble, it was now, and he breathed a prayer.

There was movement outside the room. Heart pounding, he counted to a hundred and then slipped into the jeans and pulled the shirt over his head. The shoes were a perfect fit, and he laced them up, then walked over and placed his ear against the door. There were muffled voices, but he couldn't tell how many people were out there, much less who they were.

He looked around for some kind of weapon and settled on a lamp. He removed the shade and unplugged it from the wall, wrapping the cord around the base before he held it like a club. It wasn't going to help much if whoever was out there had a gun, but it was better than nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the brass knob. As the door clicked open, the hinges squeaked, stealing the advantage of surprise as he stepped into the empty hallway. The floorboards groaned as he crept toward the voices, but he made it to the end of the hallway without being spotted. It led to a small kitchen where a pot of coffee brewed on the countertop next to a gas stove. The strong smell made his stomach churn as he looked for a knife set or even a frying pan.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and just managed to pull back before a tall man with broad shoulders and silver hair walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. The drugstore aftershave gave him away.

“Grandpa?”

The man hesitated before he turned around, coffee cup in hand. “It's good to see you up and about,” he said, smiling before he took a sip.

Caught somewhere between relief and confusion, Colt struggled to process the flood of questions that bounced inside his head like ping-pong balls in a lottery machine.

“Is he awake?”

Colt felt his heart slam inside his chest when Danielle walked into the room. She had been smiling, but when she saw the look on his face her smile disappeared, replaced by something that resembled guilt, or maybe it was sadness. She started to say something, but then she stopped and looked at Grandpa.

“What's going on?” Colt asked, his brows furrowed and his tone accusatory. “The last thing I remember is you jamming a syringe in my neck. Then I wake up who knows where with armed guards outside my window, I'm sick to my stomach, and I can barely stand up without falling over.”

Grandpa looked down at the lamp that Colt still gripped in his hand. “I know things are a little confusing right now, but—”

“A little? I don't even know what's real anymore. My whole life has turned into one gigantic nightmare.”

“It wasn't me,” Danielle said, her voice timid as she looked at Colt with hopeful eyes. “I know what you saw, but I never would have done anything like that to you.”

“Then I must have been hallucinating,” Colt said. “Or maybe it was your evil twin from some kind of twisted alternate dimension.”

“The person who attacked you may have looked like Danielle, but from what we can gather, it was Krone,” Grandpa said. “He apparently shifted into her form before he injected you with the virus. That's why you're feeling under the weather.”

The virus? Colt touched his neck where the needle had punctured his skin. As far as he knew, anyone who contracted it had died within forty-eight hours. Their skin would break out with boils and then their heart and lungs would shut down.

“I know what you're thinking, but you can relax,” Grandpa said, a soft smile playing on his lips. “They finally got around to developing an antiserum, and from what we've been told it did the trick. You might not feel up to snuff for a day or two, but you're going to live.”

Colt felt the tension subside, if only a little. “So where are we?”

“Faculty housing,” Grandpa said. “I took a red-eye and got in early this morning. They had you in the infirmary, but I thought it might be more comfortable here. And it's about the closest thing to privacy we're going to find.”

“How long was I out?”

“Oz found you last night,” Danielle said.

“Oz?”

“When you didn't show up for dinner, he went looking for you,” she said. “You were behind the chapel, out by the cemetery, and he carried you all the way to the infirmary.”

“Where is he now?” Colt was confused. If Oz had been taking part in Operation Nemesis, then why would he have bothered doing something like that?

“He wasn't sure if you'd want to see him, so he went to the gym,” Danielle said. “Anyway, the whole campus is freaking out.

I mean, there's no way that anyone should have been able to get past security—even a shapeshifter. And now Pierce and a bunch of his friends are refusing to the leave their dorm rooms until everyone gets their blood tested again. Someone said that his dad is going to launch an investigation. Can you believe that?”

“If you're up to it, we need to talk,” Grandpa said as he led them to a small living area. “It's time you met a few of the conspirators who have been looking out for you.”

“Greetings,” Giru Ba said. She was seated at a high-back chair next to a fireplace, her long fingers interlocked as they rested on her lap. Ms. Skoglund was there as well, nursing a cup of hot cocoa with a mound of whipped cream while Agent O'Keefe stood next to the window, looking out at the front lawn.

“I can see that you're confused, which is only natural,” the alien said, her voice calm and melodic. “But if you'll allow me to explain—”

“Who are you?” Colt asked.