Page 51 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"You are..." Varak's perfect face breaks into a genuine smile. "Remarkable."

"I know. Now come on, we've got an alien to catch."

The watch's signal grows stronger. My heart pounds as we weave through the evening crowd.

"He's close. Just ahead." I point toward Michigan Avenue where tourists cluster around shop windows.

"Stay behind me."

"Not a chance, big guy." The signal pulses faster. "There - black jacket, moving fast."

"Your observational skills continue to impress."

"What can I say? Dating an alien secret agent keeps life interesting."

"About that." Varak's perfect CGI face creases with concern. "Your family business-"

"Will still be there." The crowd parts as we pick up speed. "I love my parents and the pizza place, but I need my own life too. Can't spend forever making garlic knots in Little Italy."

"You are certain?"

"Never been more sure of anything." The elevated platform looms ahead, steel girders casting latticed shadows. "Besides, someone's got to keep you from getting too serious all the time."

A train rumbles overhead. The watch screen flashes frantically - Garros must be up there. I take the stairs two at a time, blood rushing in my ears.

The platform teems with commuters. A glimpse of that black jacket disappearing into an arriving train car spurs me forward.

"Come on!" I dash through the closing doors, certain Varak is right behind me.

The elevated train's doors slide shut with a hiss. My palm smacks against the glass as it pulls away, leaving Varak behind on the platform.

"No no no..." The watch buzzes against my wrist, its signal growing stronger. A chill runs down my spine as I realize what that means.

The other passengers blur into the background as I turn around. A businessman in the back morphs and shifts, his human disguise melting away to reveal black scales with crimson highlights.

Seven feet of alien muscle towers over me. The other passengers scream and rush toward the front of the car, leaving me alone with him.

My back hits the closed door. "Even if you kill me, Veritas will never let you destroy Chicago."

Garros tilts his head, confusion crossing his reptilian features. "Destroy the city? What makes you think that's what I want?"

"Aren't you the ultimate weapon?" My voice shakes less than expected. The metal handrail digs into my back.

"A weapon?" Garros's scaled head tilts. "Perhaps. The knowledge in my mind tells me of Earth, of space, of technology beyond human comprehension. But of myself?" His clawed hand taps his chest. "Nothing. Only a name - Garros. Empty syllables with no meaning, no memory attached."

The fear drains from my body, replaced by an ache in my chest. Like looking at a lost puppy in the pound. Except this puppy is seven feet tall with fangs.

"You don't remember anything about who you are?"

"Fragments. Data. Technical specifications." His golden eyes dim. "But no emotions, no experiences I can call my own."

The train screeches to a halt, throwing me off balance. The doors whoosh open with a hydraulic hiss.

"Chicago PD! Hands where we can see them!"

A wall of blue uniforms floods the car, pistols trained on Garros. The fluorescent lights gleam off gun barrels and badges.

Garros's massive form blocks my view as he shoves me behind his bulk. The sharp crack of gunfire fills the train car, bullets pinging off his scales like rubber bands.

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