Illegal operation, p.4
Illegal Operation, page 4
I lean over and grab the wolf by its neck with my right hand, yanking it upwards.
Its laser fires. I sweep its laser down and around the right side of the truck, carving the wolf next to us into two severed halves. The two parts crackle and crash together in the desert dirt.
“Jesus!” yells Sarah. “You trying to get us killed?”
My pet wolf is not happy. Its legs scrabble around, kicking out like a beetle in its death throes.
I slam it down onto the truck bed and kneel astride it. I flick open my blade, cut off its head and throw it over the side.
Its legs keep running for a few seconds, like a headless dreaming dog. They come to a gradual stop, and I toss its torso over the side too.
“Here,” says Sarah. “You can have this back.” She hands me the black bracelet. I put it over my right wrist for safekeeping and move my left arm around under my own control again.
Behind us, in our dust, is a trail of wolf carcasses and legs.
Further back, the distant metal fences glint in the sun. The compound stands silhouetted against the light-blue horizon.
Above it, what looks like a small dark cloud hovers. It shapeshifts, swoops, and flies into the desert heading in our direction.
Chapter 9
“Idon’t mean to alarm anyone,” I say. “But I think we’re being followed by a cloud of death.”
Sarah looks back through the rear window of the cab. Tenor checks his wing mirror.
“Yeah. That’s a swarm of harlequin drones,” says Tenor calmly. “But we should make it to the train before they reach us.”
“Should?” asks Sarah. “Well, that doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
“Harlequin drones?” I ask. “They sound nice.”
“They’re not,” says Tenor. “The red ones test defenses first with acid strikes then the black ones move in to drop explosives.”
“Can we go faster please?” I ask.
Up ahead of us, if I zoom in really, really hard, I can see a small black semicircle in the red cliff face. The tunnel entrance.
“How has Percival got all this tech?” I ask.
“He’s a dealer. Sells most of it and keeps the rest,” says Tenor.
“Sells it to who?”
“People even worse than him.”
“Politicians?” I ask.
“Kinda, yeah. But not in this country.”
I look behind to check on the drones. The cloud is still off in the distance. Maybe time is on our side.
“Why the sudden interest?” asks Sarah.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact I have a moral compass?”
“Screw you. It wasn’t me selling weapons to Percival. It was Gerry.”
I tilt my head.
“Okay,” she says. “It was me too. But he was the one sourcing them. An old friend from his army days.”
I shake my head.
“Look, it was complicated, okay? Gerry got injured on a tour, and the army refused to pay his pension. What are you gonna do?”
“You’re right. You steal weapons from the government and sell them to an underground crime syndicate for profit. We’ve all been there.”
“Fuck you.”
She pushes my head backwards and slams the window shut.
A few seconds later, she opens it up again and turns back to me. “Oh, and by the way – after Gerry died, I told Percival I wouldn’t do it anymore. That’s when Barry and Kyle here paid me a visit.”
I stick my head back in the cab.
“Kyle?” I say. “I don’t think your name suits your face, but it’s better than being called Barry. My name’s Tedd, by the way.”
The window’s small, so I have to retract my head first and then thrust an arm in toward Kyle. He just looks at it.
“I know all about you, Teddy boy,” he sneers.
“Hey. I thought we were on the same side?”
“We were. But don’t be giving her shit about something she had no control over. You don’t know what it’s like having Percival breathing down your neck.”
“Hello!” I say, pointing to my collar with both index fingers. The collar that turned me into Percival’s bitch and is literally soldered to my fucking neck.
Kyle harrumphs and turns his focus back to driving.
The pickup’s rumble is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the whining hum of the approaching drones.
The distant cloud is not so distant anymore. I can make out individual drones.
Each one is about the size of a BigMac. They have four propellers guarded by plastic hoops, a black-domed camera on top, and probably more nutritional value. Each one has a bulbous payload sac hanging beneath it. The first row of drones carry red sacs. The ones behind carry black.
I slide the cab window open again and pop my head in.
“I don’t suppose there’s a hidden turbo button in there that you’ve forgotten about? It’s just that the death cloud is here and the weather’s looking like rain.”
“I’ll put up an umbrella for you,” says Kyle.
He activates the metal pyramid, and the triangular sheets shoot up. But they come to a stop half-way. The gaps are big enough for me to get my arms through.
“The red ones will attack first,” says Kyle. “Try to draw them in and zap them on the electric roof.”
“Electrified,” I shout.
“What?”
“You said electric roof, but I think you meant to say electrified.”
“The roof is electric,” he shouts back. “That’s how it’s powered.”
“But that’s not what you were referring to, though, is it?”
“Hey, morons!” shouts Sarah. “Can we keep this on-topic and try to stay alive?”
Kyle forms his index finger and thumb into a circle and moves it up and down in my direction. It must be some kind of insult. I go one better and form a triangle with my two hands and shake that at him.
“Look, dipshit,” he says. “Just try and get the red ones to touch the metal sheets.”
“What about the black ones?”
“Catch them before they start dropping their bombs.”
“How the hell am I supposed to catch them?” I ask.
“You’ll work something out.”
Sarah has her head in her hands.
“Excellent. I’ll endeavor to prolong our existence for a few extra seconds in the hope I can have more enlightening conversations like this one.”
Kyle presses a button on the dash. One of the metal triangles jerks down onto my head, giving me an electric shock.
“Hey!” I yell.
He smirks. My shout did not go unnoticed by the legion of buzzing drones. A swathe of the red ones swoops down toward me.
These are small, anti-personnel drones, so I’m hoping the acid might not dissolve all my layers.
But I don’t want to put that theory to the test.
I thrust both arms out through the thin gaps in the metal sheets and grab two drones by their propeller guards. They buzz angrily like blowflies in a bottle.
I go off-script and throw them back at the drones hovering above with full force.
The red sacs burst and rain acid down on their counterparts. The splashed drones hiss, smoke and burst into flames.
A new wave launches an attack. This time it’s three of the black-sac drones. I’m out of stuff to throw.
And bullets.
But they’re not coming for me. They’re heading to the front of the truck.
“Watch out!” I shout.
Kyle slams on the brakes, and the back of the truck fishtails violently. Now, the black bomber drones are over my head. But they soon adjust course and hover over the windshield in a triangle formation. One high up and two lower.
I now witness what may very well become the dictionary definition of the word futile.
Kyle turns on the windshield wipers and washer fluid.
Yes.
He activates the well-known anti-bomb defense strategy of a low-powered drizzle of water and wipe down with a rubber blade.
We’re done for.
I gaze at the wipers, mesmerized, wondering how many pieces I’m going to explode into.
That’s when I hear what sounds like the world’s biggest wasp buzzing behind me. It’s another red-sac drone.
I pluck it from the air by its propeller guards and launch it toward the highest of the black sacs up front. The red pouch bulges into the spinning blades of the drone.
For a second, it looks like the red-sac material is going to withstand the propellers. But then – splosh. Acid rains down on the top drone and the two below. A few spots fizz onto the hood of the truck.
The three drones smoke and deform. They lose height and speed, then drift back over my head where they promptly explode.
I dive for cover under the metal sheets. And I’m not afraid to say this – I close my eyes.
Chunks of drone innards and drips of acid, pop, and fizz down on me.
I muster the courage to look at the damage. It’s actually not too bad. I brush down my arms and shoulders as best I can. It looks like most of the acid has already been exhausted eating into the drones.
There are only a handful of the flying fuckers left now.
There’s a strange sensation around my groin area. I glance down and see something nestling between my legs. It fills me with equal parts terror and excitement.
A bulbous sac.
It’s black.
A bomb.
I grab it very gently and launch it skyward into the middle of the remaining drones.
This is my moment.
The time I finally become the hero I was meant to be.
Sarah and I will look back on this in years to come, reminiscing about how I—
Shit.
The black sac sails up through the gaps in between the drones and reaches the top of its vertical trajectory.
It’s missed every single drone.
Gravity works on its mass in an all too predictable way, and it begins its return to sender.
We’re going to die because – of all things – I’m bad at sports.
I consider closing my eyes, but it’s already dark. Kyle has closed the roof.
The beautiful, amazing, and hopefully goddamned impenetrable electric roof.
Boom.
The truck shakes violently. I’m thrown from one side then the other. Ear-piercing strains of metal on metal fill the air.
I hear Sarah screaming.
The vehicle’s on its side now.
No, the other.
No, we’re rolling.
Tumbling.
The chaos finally ends with a shuddering bang. I’m right-way-up again.
There’s a jagged hole in one of the metal sheets.
I peer out.
We’re rammed sideways right up against the tunnel entrance. Exploded pieces of drones lay scattered around in the dirt. It takes me a moment to clamber out of the small hole in the metal pyramid.
Sarah is inside the tunnel, holding her head. Kyle is limping toward her.
I look back at the desert. No more drones. My head is pounding from the explosion and all the rattling around in the truck.
Sarah looks back at me and beckons with her hand.
“Come on, Bullseye,” she says. “We’ve got a train to catch!”
Chapter 10
We’re on a platform.
It’s where the entrance tunnel meets the train tracks. And the scale of the engineering is impressive, to say the least.
The vast arcing metal tunnel extends as far as the eye can see in both directions. Bright-blue LEDs flash along its ceiling, from left to right. A warm breeze blows along the tracks. There’s a faint hum in the distance.
Kyle claps me on the shoulder.
“You owe me one, Teddy Boy.”
“What? Oh, back there? Yeah, thanks for that. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t put the roof up.”
“I do. You’d have been blown to shit.”
“Well, I’d rather not think about that,” I say.
“Yeah, the bomb would have landed right on top of you. Probably would have destroyed your head instantly.”
“Uh huh.”
“The rest of your body parts would have exploded into smithereens.”
“Like I said, it’s not really something I want to think about.”
“Your head might have been ripped right off your shoulders and—”
“Enough!” says Sarah. She shoots a warning look at Kyle.
He takes a step back from me.
“You’re right, though,” I say. “I do owe you.”
Kyle shrugs.
“Whatever, man. A bomb hitting the roof was better than a bomb hitting the bed of the truck.”
“Well, I appreciate it either way. Whatever your intention.”
“You’re too nice, Bullseye,” says Sarah.
“Can we stop with that already?” I say. “It’s not gonna stick.”
“If it annoys you, it will,” she says, with a devilish smile.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“We need to go to the baseball stadium in the city.”
“To watch a game?” I say.
“Nah. To get you some throwing practice.”
She laughs. Kyle joins in, doubling over and holding his stomach.
“She burned you good, droid!”
“Look, the truck was moving at an irregular velocity, okay? My sensors were being bombarded. The wind speed was difficult to calculate due to reverberations and disturbances in the airflow from all the propellers. I’d like to see you guys try to do it. And we survived, didn’t we?”
“Thanks to me, we did!” says Kyle.
Air rushes past us, and the humming gets louder as a large silver train arrives with a whoosh. It comes to a stop, and large double doors swish open.
“Okay, enough,” says Sarah. “We’re only gonna get through this if we stick together.”
We board the train.
The cylindrical interior of the carriage is sparse. Lots of polished metal. It’s brightly lit. There are no seats. Several humans and droids are standing. Each holding onto a metal ring hanging from the ceiling.
They look us up and down.
A small child droid holds onto the hem of her human mother’s skirt with one hand and a toy doll of a human with the other.
She smiles at me.
I smile back.
The train sets off with a whir, and we all rock back a little. I grab hold of a metal ring. Kyle and Sarah do the same, nudging into one another.
“So, where are we going?” says Kyle.
“The Boardings,” says Sarah. “To collect my stuff.”
“Should I even ask?” I say.
Sarah smiles and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Stuff we’ll need to defend ourselves. And stuff to help you infiltrate the HQ.”
The child droid is staring at me.
She’s not smiling anymore.
“Woah, woah. Back up a second,” I say. “I’m not going back there. Ever.”
“Yes, you are. You’re going back there – today,” says Sarah.
“The hell I am.”
Kyle seizes hold of my arm and stares at me intensely. “You have to. You owe me.”
“Have I just woken up from a blackout? What the hell are you guys talking about?”
The child drops her toy human to the floor. Her eyes are still fixed on me.
Sarah pulls me close and nods toward Kyle. His eyes are glassy.
“He lost someone too,” she whispers. “They went missing, just like my brother.”
“I don’t see what this has got to do with me,” I say.
Sarah’s eyes narrow, scanning the carriage.
She lifts her index finger to her mouth. “Not here,” she says.
We all lurch forward as the train slows. Some passengers shuffle toward the double doors.
“Next stop,” says Sarah.
I walk over to the child and bend down, picking up her toy human from the floor. I offer it to her, but she just stares at me with dead eyes.
Her mother watches on, putting an arm around the child’s shoulders.
The child slowly lifts her finger and points at me.
She opens her mouth wide, but no words come out.
Her head turns and it doesn’t stop. It spins around and around like a macabre music box.
Her LED eyes flash on and off in bright red.
“What the hell’s happening?” says Sarah.
Everyone in the carriage stares first at the child and then at me.
The train comes to a stop, and the doors swish open.
Some passengers hurry off.
Some step onto the train from the busy platform. Others stay frozen to the spot, eyes wide.
“Warning!” shouts the child in a terrible digital scream. “This droid is a wanted felon! Do not approach. HQ has been notified.”
People scramble over one another to get off the train. There are screams and shouts.
“Let’s go!” yells Sarah.
Kyle’s already made it onto the platform.
Sarah takes me by the hand and pulls me toward the doors. I drop the toy human, and we exit the train.
The doors close shut behind us. The doll is trapped between them.
The train whooshes off down the tunnel, the toy human’s arms flailing.
People and droids stampede away from us toward the exit at the far end of the platform.
There’s commotion up ahead, and the sea of bodies parts in the middle. Two figures run against the flow.
A pair of Enforcer Droids. E-rifles at the ready.
I turn to Sarah.
“It’s me they want,” I say.
And then the platform explodes.
Chapter 11
All my sensors are ringing. My feed is full of errors.
My touch sensors are the first to come back online. They indicate that I’m lying on my back.
Next comes audio.
I hear screaming, shouting, and crying. The crackle of flames. And car alarms.
Now vision.
Black. Flickering oranges. Darting yellows. Hazy grays. Pinks and reds.
My eyes focus to reveal a living hell.
There are bodies and limbs everywhere.
