A. Colucci - The Colony

The phone rang and Dawson reached for it.

Garrett reached inside his jacket.

Sheer exhaustion overtook Paul and Kendra. They lay entangled on the bed until the late afternoon sun began to sink over New York City and the sky turned golden over the wreckage.

A loud knock at the door startled them both awake, and they looked around, confused. Paul shook the sleep from his head and nearly fell off the cot retrieving his clothes.

“Just a minute,” he said, as they dressed in haste.

Paul answered the door in a pressed blue shirt and khaki pants, fastening his wristwatch, and found Garrett looking a few shades lighter than his natural pallid tone. Sweat glistened on the colonel’s forehead, but his expression was calm and cool.

“We’re clearing the bunker,” he said flatly.

“Now?” Paul asked.

Garrett looked past him at Kendra, straightening a white cotton sweater over her jeans, and he smiled. He needed to sound sincere, speak calmly. There was little time for discussion. “I’m sorry to inform you both. The president has rejected your pheromone solution as a way to stop the ants.”

“General Dawson said—”

“The general was overruled. Operation Colony Torch is back on schedule. There’s a helicopter set to land on the roof at six. I’d advise you both to be on it.”

Kendra came to Paul’s side and said, “We’re not going anywhere till we speak to General Dawson.”

Garrett bit his lower lip, contemplating. “The general has already evacuated the building. He’s instructed me to take custody of the queen.”

Nobody moved.

With a sneer, Paul gritted his teeth. “What are you up to?”

Their boldness took Garrett by surprise. He didn’t think they would question the orders of an army officer. It was a huge miscalculation on his part, but one he was prepared for. He watched Kendra back away toward the dresser and his gaze landed on the bottled queen.

Garrett took out his gun. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“Have you gone mad?” Paul gasped.

Garrett held out his palm. “The queen.”

Kendra clutched the bottle firmly, but Paul took it from her grasp and gave it to the colonel. “You got what you wanted, now leave us alone.” He glanced at the Beretta on the bed and took a few steps toward it.

Garrett fired his gun with a loud bang.

Kendra cried out in fear.

“Leave the weapon right there.” Garrett motioned down the hall. “Both of you—move it.”

Garrett was tense, taking long strides down the corridor with his gun aimed erratically between Paul and Kendra. He was talking gibberish like a man possessed. “You’re not capable of understanding the implications of these ants, how vital they are to the security of our country. What is it with you civilians? Demonizing the government, when it’s our job to watch over the flock, make all the sacrifices, protect this nation from the most dangerous criminal minds. I’m not going to let the single greatest weapon in the world go to waste.”

“How do you know the colony hasn’t already spread?” Paul asked. “Are you prepared to bomb the whole Eastern seaboard?”

“Shut up,” Garrett said.

They reached the laboratory. It was empty and Garrett motioned them inside.

At first it seemed like Garrett was going to shoot them. He pointed the gun but then scanned the room for a moment, hesitating. “Get inside the closet—both of you.”

“Drop your weapon!” Agent Cameron swooped through the doorway, his Glock steady on Colonel Garrett.

Garrett froze, still holding the gun.

“I said drop it!”

“I believe I outrank you, Agent.”

“Not today. I just ran into General Dawson.”

Mayor Russo suddenly burst through the door behind Cameron, startling the agent.

Paul and Kendra barely ducked for cover as Garrett’s gun went off like a cannon. Cameron fell to the ground, firing six loud shots and remarkably hitting no one.

Cameron lay thrashing on the floor, bleeding across the front of his white shirt, while Garrett stood frozen, the gun in one hand and the queen still in his grip. Paul lurched for the colonel, who fired off another shot, grazing Paul in the thigh. They both fell in a heap, the gun spinning beneath a counter.

Paul rolled away, moaning.

Garrett raced from the room.

Kendra was at Paul’s side in an instant. The hole in his pants exposed a six-inch graze. “You’re shot.”

“Just a flesh wound,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Over here!” Russo was tending to Agent Cameron, who was writhing in pain.

Paul got to his feet and grabbed his medical bag off the counter.

Kendra stood over Cameron, while Russo gently raised the agent’s shirt.

“Shit.” Cameron grimaced. “Where did he get me?”

“Just below the rib cage,” Paul said, ripping open a box of gauze.

Cameron looked down at the blood pouring from a bullet hole at an alarming rate. “Flesh wound.” He winced. “Just like yours.”

Paul pressed the gauze against the flow of blood, but the pads were soaked in seconds.

Cameron took a wheezing breath and nodded at Paul. “Saved your ass, didn’t I, O’Keefe?”

“Yes sir, you did.”

The agent looked at Kendra and grinned. “No need to thank me.”

She smiled bleakly. “Guess you’re not so demented after all.”

“Just don’t tell anyone.” Blood trickled from his nose and he coughed.

Paul tried to dress the wound with more gauze and bandages but it was futile. He checked Cameron’s pulse and took vital signs. “You were right,” he said to Cameron. “The U.S. military created the ants. They funded the entire project.”

Cameron gave a weak nod. “I knew it… didn’t want to believe it.”

“Is that true?” Russo gasped.

“General Dawson…” Cameron’s voice trailed off. “He’s dead.”

“What?” Kendra said softly.

Cameron closed his eyes. He tried to start himself awake, but only drifted farther away.

Paul felt the agent’s pulse once more. It was weak.

He picked up Cameron’s gun: empty. He tucked it into his belt anyway.

“General Dawson, dead?” Kendra was stricken, and stood up slowly. “Garrett must have killed the general before he had a chance to speak to the president about the pheromones. They’re really going to bomb this city.” Her eyes darted to the clock. “In half an hour.”

“I don’t understand.” The mayor looked confused.

“Garrett told us the president is continuing with Operation Colony Torch,” Kendra said.

“The last helicopter is at six,” Paul said. “The bombs will drop minutes later.”

Russo rubbed the sides of his face, looking worried. “We just have to get word to the president, that’s all.” He took a calming breath. “I’ll try to reach him. Let him know the general is dead and stop this before it’s too late.”

They watched dolefully as the mayor headed toward his office.

Paul limped to his computer and prompted his e-mail. “Maybe we can reach Jack. Have him ready with those pheromones.” He typed at the keyboard with a scowl on his face. “I can’t get a line out,” he said. “The Internet is down.”

“Maybe the phones are down too,” Kendra said in a small voice. “Even if Russo reaches the White House, will they believe him?”

Paul leaned down, and his lips brushed her forehead. “Go find Jeremy. See if you can get an outside line. Then both of you meet me on the roof by six.” Paul checked his watch. “I’m going to find the colonel, get him to change the plan.”

As he went for the door, Kendra stopped him. “Be careful with Garrett.”