Alien Storm by A. G. Taylor Page A

gift is a by-product of your exposure to the fall virus, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. And so is mine.”
    Alex frowned. “You can control TVs?”
    Makarov laughed. “And much more besides. I’d like to tell you all about it, but at the moment we have the small matter of the police to worry about. You shouldn’t have gone back to the house, Alex. You’re going to have to get smarter if you’re going to stay free long enough for me to rescue you.”
    Alex looked around as a car screeched past outside. He turned back to the TV, deciding that the guy on the screen was his best bet at that moment. “What do I do? I haven’t got anywhere to go.”
    â€œYou’ve got about one minute,” Makarov said urgently. “Just get out of there. Move!” The screen went dead.
    Not hanging around, Alex ran straight through to the kitchen. Something crackled near the sink as he went past. Looking round, his eyes fell on Stella’s iPod, lying forgotten near the window. The little white headphones were still plugged in and sound was coming from them, faint but audible.
    â€œTake it, Alex!” Nikolai Makarov’s voice commanded tinnily. “Go out the back door. They’re already covering the front.”
    Hearing the sound of vehicles on the road, Alex grabbed the iPod from the window sill and ran out the back. (As he ran across the lawn he remembered that the player hadn’t worked since Uncle Pete had thrown it at the wall during one of his and Stella’s arguments – but he decided to think about that later.) From the house there was a crash as the front door was smashed open.
    Alex jumped the back fence in one fluid movement and landed in the alleyway beyond, hitting the ground running.
    He didn’t look back.
    Thirty minutes later, Alex walked onto the platform of a suburban train station with the hood of his jacket up to hide his face. Somewhere a police siren howled, but he didn’t look round as he walked past the ticket office. It was tempting simply to fade out, but the run from Uncle Pete’s house had left him too exhausted for that. For now he walked to the end of the platform, trying to keep out of people’s way. The speakers announced that a train was due in two minutes.
    â€œWell done, Alex,” Makarov said in the headphone he had placed in his left ear. Alex looked down at the iPod. Now that he’d stopped running, the ridiculousness of taking orders from a broken MP3 player occurred to him. In the window, the playlist even read Nikolai Makarov. “No need to speak out loud. Direct your thoughts to me and I’ll hear.”
    What now? Alex thought back, glad of the fact he wasn’t going to have to speak out loud to the iPod in public. I want to know what’s going on here .
    Makarov sighed as if they were wasting time with questions. “Plenty of time to explain everything later, Alex. Right now you need to—”
    I’m not doing anything until I get some answers , Alex answered firmly. I’ve been chased, tricked and ordered around all day. I’m not going anywhere until you give me an explanation. Just who are you? And what do you want?
    The iPod was silent for a second, but then it sprang into life again.
    â€œI’m just like you, Alex,” Makarov explained. “Except I was exposed to the fall virus many, many years ago. Since then I’ve been able to cast my mind to distant places and control things remotely. My skills have given me riches and power, but now I have a different concern. I have a mission and I want you to be part of it.”
    Where are you? Alex asked.
    â€œFar away,” Makarov replied. “What’s important now is that you find the others like you in Melbourne.”
    Why?
    â€œBecause people like us have to stand together,” Makarov explained. “At the moment we’re scattered, weak – you’re going to help me bring us