Chapter 3
The Thule were killing machines that looked like walking lizards with six arms, and their hooked teeth and clawed fingers were designed to rend flesh from bone.
Until recently most of the world thought they were little more than characters from a comic book. In the past, some, like President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, had known the truth. He’d kept their existence a secret, fearing that if people knew Hitler had joined forces with a race of shape-shifting aliens it would cause mass hysteria at a time when Americans needed stability.
He’d also hidden the existence of Project Chrysalis, a top-secret program he developed where infants were inoculated with Thule blood in an attempt to create a breed of super soldiers who could defend the United States against extraterrestrial threats. Seventy years and billions of dollars later, the project was on the verge of cancellation—until the first successful test case in recorded history was a boy from San Diego named Colt McAlister. The military finally had its savior.
“That’s it!” Danielle said as she pointed at a four-story brick building surrounded by trees and rolling hills.
As they entered the parking lot they could see the tail end of the Thule fighter sticking out from the rooftop. Since it was nearly impossible for humans to speak the alien language, they had taken to classifying Thule ships using reptilian names. This particular fighter was called a Taipan, named for the most venomous snake on the planet.
“How long has it been here?” Colt asked, wondering why no one had spotted it in the initial sweep.
“I know as much as you do.” Danielle opened her door, grabbed a camera out of her duffel bag, and walked toward the building.
“Wait a minute. What are you doing?” Colt said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Trying to get yourself killed.” He shouldered his assault rifle and grabbed Danielle’s sniper rifle. “You don’t go into a hot zone without your weapon.”
“So now you’re worried about protocol?”
“I’m worried about one of the Thule ripping you in half.”
“Right, because this place is infested. Remind me again, how many Thule have we seen over the last three days? Because I’m pretty sure the number is zero.”
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t here.”
“Fine, I’ll prove it.” She picked up a brick, bounced it in her palm, and threw it at the window.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Danielle shook her head. “Since none of them are rushing out to rip my head off, I’d say we’re fine.”
Colt could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as wind whipped across the parking lot, causing a metal handicap parking sign to shake. A newspaper fluttered. Branches creaked in nearby trees, threatening to snap. But there was no sign of the Thule. Yet.
Over the last two weeks, when Colt wasn’t battling replicas of Thule inside a hologram chamber, he was studying them in a classroom. He learned about their fractured political structure and how their government had splintered into five warring factions, each led by a warlord who sought supremacy over the others. He knew that four of the factions had united in the fight against humanity, and more importantly, he knew that each Thule had a jaw that was strong enough to bite Danielle in half if it got hold of her.
“Are you coming or what?” she asked. But before he could respond, Danielle walked into the lobby of the apartment building with her camera at the ready instead of her gun.