Domination (A C.H.A.O.S. Novel) - By Jon Lewis Page 0,32

one in particular.

“I didn’t know,” Danielle said.

“Me either,” Oz said. “Just make sure you keep your head in the game. I don’t care what they say about these flight suits, if you crash at a hundred feet, you’re not walking away.”

“She’s amazing,” Stacy said.

“Yeah, she is,” Colt said, savoring every note.

Cameras flashed in an erratic sequence like fireflies lighting up a summer night as the song hit the crescendo, but when it ended there was an odd silence. Then someone whistled and a few people started to clap. Before long everyone in the stadium was standing and cheering.

“Okay, everyone, it’s showtime!” Captain Starling said.

Fireworks exploded, showering the night sky in a burst of color as smoke machines at the mouth of the tunnel whirred to life. Smoke issued from the tubes, rising like fog over a swamp as the crowd continued to cheer.

“Ten seconds,” Captain Starling said.

“Do you think she’s transferring?” Colt said as he watched her stand there smiling at the cheering crowd.

“Here? Yeah, right,” Oz said. “What’s she going to do, sing for the Thule?”

“I know it’s hard, but don’t be a jerk,” Danielle said.

Captain Starling started his countdown. “Five . . . four . . .”

The snare drum started to beat again, and Lily followed the marines back down the steps. She hesitated when she got to the bottom, and for a moment it appeared like she was looking at Colt. A gust of wind buffeted her hair, and she reached up to pull back a strand that had fallen across her forehead.

“Three . . . two . . .”

She walked away, across the field and back into the shadows of a tunnel. Colt felt empty and alone, and when he looked down at his uniform, he suddenly felt like a fraud. There was no way people were going to believe that he was the reincarnation of the Phantom Flyer. He was too short. Too young. Too scared.

“One!”

Oz was the first one out of the tunnel, hefting an enormous American flag in his hands as he sprinted to the center of the field. The rest of the flight team followed, and as the smoke swirled around them, Colt imagined that they were the original Agents of CHAOS running out to meet the Nazis somewhere in the Ardennes.

“Where’s the star of our show?” Captain Starling asked as the public address announcer introduced the Agents of CHAOS.

Colt took a last look at Grandpa, who nodded. “This is your time,” Grandpa said, as though he could hear the doubts swirling in Colt’s mind. “Go out there and make us proud.”

A litany of excuses rushed through Colt like raging water. They formed on his tongue and pressed to escape through his lips, but instead he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Thanks.” A simple word, but it was all he had to offer.

Bright lights flashed through the stands as Oz slammed the flagpole into the ground. The crowd was raucous as he stood there with his hands on his hips and his feet set wide, striking a classic superhero pose as the Stars and Stripes snapped in the wind behind him. “Let’s go, McAlister,” he said through his comlink.

“It looks like you have things under control,” Colt said, smiling as he shook his head. Oz was improvising, and Colt was fairly certain that Captain Starling was about to have an aneurysm.

“That’s off script,” Starling said as though on cue. “Colt, can you hear me? Colt . . . Colt?”

“I can hear you, sir.”

“Are you waiting for an invitation or something? Get out there!”

“Yes, sir.” Colt ran down the tunnel and out onto the airfield. The sun was long gone, but the stadium lights flared bright enough that Colt had to shield his eyes, even with the tinted visor on his helmet.

“It’s about time,” Oz said as trumpets sounded and snare drums snapped.

The crowd grew frenzied, and Colt wondered if this was what the quarterback of a Super Bowl team felt like when he ran onto the field before the game. The emotions were strange. Excitement. Embarrassment. Pride. Awe. And for a moment it was hard to breathe.

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . the Phantom Flyer!”

Colt raised his right hand and waved to the crowd. The stadium shook as the people stamped their feet and clapped their hands, and Colt knew that whatever was happening, it wasn’t about him. They weren’t looking for someone to save them; they wanted to be inspired, to believe that they could overcome. They wanted hope.

“Wait