Colt slowed to a walk, his fingers locked behind his head as he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. The other two had disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone with his exhaustion. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed.
Something heavy moved through the trees. Birds took to the air, and Colt spun, his eyes wide as hair stood on the back of his neck. “Who's there?”
No response.
Each breath he took was amplified by the quiet. Colt thought about calling out for help, but his jaw wouldn't move. He heard leaves rustle and branches snap, and for a moment he thought that he could see a pair of eyes. Or was it his imagination?
There was a scraping sound, and he turned just as a woman rounded the corner with a black Lab in tow. Her cheeks were flushed, but she managed to smile as the dog sniffed at the trees. It growled and pinned its ears. “Come on,” the lady said as she jerked the leash. The dog resisted as it tried to draw nearer to the shadows, but then it whimpered and ran after her.
Colt took off at a dead run, adrenaline driving his legs as he scampered down the path. Oz and Danielle were sharing a sports drink when he reached the parking lot. They decided to head back to Oz's house and grab some breakfast.
“If you want to leave your truck here, we can pick it up later,” Oz said.
“That's okay. I'll just meet you over there.” Colt watched them pull out of the parking lot before he fished his keys out. He went to open the door, but then stopped. Someone was standing behind him in the rearview mirror. Whoever it was, his eyes had a faint glow.
Tendrils of panic shot up Colt's stomach, making it difficult to breathe. His first instinct was to run, but where would he go? Instead, he opened the door and pretended to drop his keys. They clanked as he reached under the seat for Grandpa's tire iron, but by the time he spun around the figure was gone.
A
fter a pit stop in the kitchen where Oz made everyone egg white omelets with turkey bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes, and spinach, he led them to a room that he called the arena. It was long and narrow, and the floor was covered in what looked like a wrestling mat.
“Here's the thing,” he said as he slipped out of his shoes. “When you get to the academy nobody is going to take it easy on you just because you're a girl.”
“Wait a minute,” Danielle said. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Oz raised his hands in surrender. “Nothing, it's just thatâ”
“I don't expect you or anyone else to take it easy on me.” Her words were sharp, her voice intense. “And I don't want either one of you treating me like I'm some kind of damsel in distress. Not now, and not when we get to Virginia. I earned that invitation, and I plan on proving it.”
“Don't look at me,” Colt said.
She stood there, feet planted and fists clenched until her knuckles were white.
Oz crossed his arms. “So that's the way it's going to be?”
Danielle blew at a loose strand of hair.
“Then let's get started.” He opened with a basic fighting stance, showing Danielle how to bend her knees, place her left foot forward, and pick up her back heel. “Now raise your hands, but keep your elbows tight.” He swung at her face and then her ribs, stopping before he made contact. “See? That's how you protect yourself.”
Her eyes were wide as she nodded.
“Now, if you want to hit me back, you need to make a fist and lead with your top two knuckles.” He took her hand and formed it into a first. Then he moved her arm so she struck the air next to his chin. “Remember, keep those elbows tight and pointed toward the ground. Then drive with your hips. You got that?”
“I think so.”
“Show me.” Oz stepped back and raised his palms, waiting for her to strike.
“You want me to hit you?”
“As hard as you can.”
Danielle punched Oz with her left hand, then her right.
“Again, only this time remember to keep your elbows in and use your hips. Drive all the way through. That's where you get your power.” He forced her to repeat it time and again, and it was obvious that she was getting frustrated. Her face was flushed as she threw punch after punch, grunting each time she struck his hands, but Oz just stood there, pointing out her flaws.
“Not bad for a newbie,” he finally said after she threw a textbook combination. “If you keep it up, CHAOS is going to pull you off the hacker team and put you on the front line with the rest of us grunts.”
A smile curled at the edge of her lips, and Colt thought she actually blushed. “Yeah, right.”
The door opened, and a man with terra cotta skin and thick black hair walked in. He was tall with broad shoulders that were slightly hunched, as though he was carrying a heavy burden. But it was his eyes that gave him away. As Lobo smiled, they burned with intensity. Over the past few weeks, he had spent most of his time at the CHAOS headquarters in Virginia, which meant that this was the first time Colt had met him in person.
Oz crossed the floor and embraced his father. “I thought you were in London this week. What happened?”
“It's a long story, and I'm too tired to explain.” Lobo held Oz at arm's length, pride pouring out of him like a neon sign on the Vegas strip. “We'll have plenty of time to talk at dinner, so why don't you introduce me to your friends?”
“This is Danielle Salazar,” Oz said. “You know, the hacker I was telling you about?”
“Ah, yes. I hear there isn't a machine on this planet or any other that you can't access,” he said. “I'm glad that my computer requires a biometric scan, otherwise your presence would make me nervous.”
“It wouldn't stop her,” Oz said.
Danielle blushed as Lobo frowned. “You're telling me that we've spent a fortune on our security, and it wouldn't matter?” he asked. “How long would it take you to break in?”
She shrugged.
“Don't be modest. Please.”
“It depends,” she said. “If I could lift a clean fingerprint, it should only take a few minutes. If not? I don't know. But there's always a back door. You just have to look hard enough, and you'll find it.”
Lobo shook his head and smiled, somehow expressing admiration and disappointment at the same time. Then he turned his attention to Colt. “And you must be Murdoch's grandson,” he said. His thick brows were furrowed, and his words lacked warmth. He didn't smile or offer his hand. Lobo simply stood there regarding Colt as if he were reading his thoughts . . . accessing his secrets.
C
olt felt his body relax once Lobo left the room. He knew, even from their brief encounter, that the man was dangerous. He could see it in his eyes and in the way he walked. Each stride was purposeful, each step calculated. The very idea that Colt could somehow replace him seemed absurd. Colt wasn't even sure that he should have been invited to attend the CHAOS Military Academy, much less step in as the director of the entire organization.
“Let's have some fun,” Oz said as he placed his hand on a biometric scanner. Green circles lit around his fingers and thumb as a portion of the wall slid away to reveal a room no bigger than a coat closet. Inside, a mechanical man stood at attention. The sleek machine was eggshell white, with a tapered chest and narrow hip joints. Its arms were long, as were its legs, and each of its hands ended in three wide fingers.
“This is an M-RC 4 Military Robotic Combat unit,” he said, slapping it on the chest. “It's programmed to mimic over a hundred and fifty different fighting techniques.” He entered a code into a tablet computer and its eyes flared to life. Its movement was fluid as it walked to the center of the room and took a fighting position opposite Colt.
“Check this out,” Oz said. There was a whirring sound as a second set of arms unfolded from its back like a pair of wings. A third set opened up from its rib cage.
Colt stepped back. “You're kidding, right? I mean, how am I supposed to fight that thing?”
“If I were you, I'd start by putting my hands up.”
Before Colt could react, the M-RC 4 lunged and struck him in the face with a combination of punches. His head spun left and then right before it snapped back from a quick jab. The flurry was over as quickly as it started. Colt stumbled as the robot went back to its ready position. Like a boxer knocked out on his feet, Colt was woozy. His knees wobbled, and it felt like the ground was slipping out from under him. He had to steady himself against the wall with one hand, but as he leaned over to catch his breath, he saw drops of blood. He wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, leaving a streak of crimson.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his face twisted with anger.
“Look, McAlister. There's no such thing as a fair fight. I mean, what's going to happen if a shapeshifter grabs you by the throat? Call a time-out?” He laughed. “Give me a break. You can't afford to let your guard down, because the second you do, you'll end up six feet under.”
Colt's nose throbbed as blood fell like crimson raindrops. He pinched the bridge, trying to stop the flow. It was swollen, and tears from pain filled his eyes. He wanted to lash out at Oz, but he couldn'tânot when Oz was right. The world had changed. It wasn't a safe place anymore, and maybe it never had been. Either way, there was no room for error. Next time he'd be ready.
He pushed off the wall and made his way back to the center of the room, concentrating on each step as though he were walking on a tightrope instead of on solid ground. When he saw the shadow of the robot he stopped and took a deep breath. His knees bent, his right foot slipped back, and his elbows were in so that his hands covered his face.
“You ready?” Oz asked.
Colt nodded and bit his lower lip until he could taste the iron tang of his own blood. His body was tense, like a spring wound too tight, and he balled his hands into fists. He knew the odds of beating a six-armed machine were slim, but he was determined to land one blow before he went down.
“Fight!”
Colt led with his left hand and followed with his right, but the robot batted both away. Its eyes flashed as it brought two fists down on Colt's head. He managed to catch them, but the machine lashed out with two more arms. Air exploded from Colt's lungs as it struck him in the chest. He fell back, his head bouncing off the mat. His lungs refused to work and his body screamed for oxygen. He felt like a fish flopping around on the bottom of a boat, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the machine's foot drilling down at his chest.
Somehow Colt managed to roll away, and the robot missed, leaving an impression of its foot in the mat. Whether by instinct or training, Colt swept at its ankle with his leg and connected. Pain exploded in his shin, but the blow knocked the robot off balance.
He risked a glance at Oz, but Oz was too busy punching a set of commands into the computer. Another foot came crashing down, this time at Colt's head. He didn't have time to move, but he caught it with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead and veins popped out of his neck, but the machine was too strong. Colt imagined his head cracking under the pressure like an eggshell as his brains oozed across the floor.
“Can't you turn it off?” Danielle asked, her voice frantic.
“I'm trying,” Oz said.
“Try harder! It's killing him!”
Colt wrenched his head to the right and rolled away. His chest was heaving, his energy tapped. “Isn't there . . . some kind of . . . kill switch?” Blood poured from his nose as sweat dripped down his forehead.
“It's not working.”
“Just do something!” Danielle shouted.
The machine went for Colt, but Oz drove his fists into its back. It fell, and its arms and legs sprawled out like a dead insect. But it wasn't dead. A mechanical hand shot out and grabbed Oz by the ankle, pulling him to the ground.
“Get help!” Colt said, but Danielle just stood there, immobilized. “Now!”
Her eyes fell on him like she had just woken up from a nightmare, but she sprang to the door and grabbed the handle with both hands. “It's locked!”
The M-RC 4 was standing again, its eyes blazing as if it were somehow enraged. Its head swiveled toward Danielle for the briefest moment, but it must not have considered her a threat, because it turned back to Colt.
“How are we supposed to take it out?” he asked, sidestepping as the robot lunged. “Does it have a battery pack or something?” The machine swung its arm and hit him in the chest. He crumpled, but it caught him by the throat and hefted him against the wall. Its hand squeezed, and Colt's face turned red as fingers tried to pry the robot away.
Oz wrapped his arms around its neck, and it dropped Colt. The machine whirred until it took Oz by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall. Sheet rock crumbled, and he landed on his head with a thud.
With arms stretched wide, the robot turned on Colt and backed him into a corner.