by Allen Kuzara
He waved back and looked forward to the moment when he’d get to embrace her. Then he saw her bend over to the rooftop floor. The drones followed her lead, doing the same. Then they all stood with gas masks on, and Lusa made exaggerated gestures toward the street below. Nick realized she was trying to warn him about the rising gas but didn’t understand that he was entirely without gear. Nick raised his hands palms up and shrugged. Oh well, he thought. He’d had his wisdom teeth out last year. Getting gassed wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
Then Lusa started waving her hands wildly like she was doing jumping jacks. Nick gave her another what-do-you-want gesture. Then she started pointing at him. Behind him.
Nick turned and spotted a figure in the doorway. In all the commotion, he hadn’t heard it open. He cursed himself for being so stupid. He had known the door’s lock was broken, but he’d been mentally lazy and forgotten.
The crazy was big, muscular, a former meat head. And Nick wondered why it wasn’t attacking. He watched the bald crazy in a wife-beater undershirt as it turned its head, seeming to notice the thunder from down under on the street, then turning back to Nick. It was trying to make its mind up, Nick realized.
Nick stood motionless, hoping the thing would be a good little crazy and do what all its brothers and sisters had done and hit the street. But there it stood. A moment later, the crazy locked eyes with Nick, and it was then that the decision seemed to have been made.
The crazy grunted, lowered its shiny head, and charged Nick.
Nick scrambled, unconsciously reaching for his absent weapon, and by the time he got his wits about him, the crazy impacted him, slamming him back to the ledge.
Nick felt his feet first slide, then go airborne. Then he realized he was going over the side.
A strong hand grabbed his shirt, stopping him. When the crazy had Nick sufficiently detained—half his body hanging over the edge, half sandwiched underneath the muscle-bound killer—it commenced pounding him.
The heavy fist came around with dreadful regularity. Just as Nick thought he could shake off the last punch, another crashed into the side of his face. Nick felt his jaw go numb, and he had the fleeting thought that it was broken.
Apparently satisfied with the beating, the crazy pulled Nick back a couple feet so that his back was painfully wedged against the corner of the ledge. The beast moved slowly now, like a butcher after the kill, moving on to skinning and gutting.
Nick felt the large man’s legs straddle his waist and then wrap his two giant hands around his throat and squeeze. The sensation wasn’t one of choking, of gasping for air. There was no air to breath. There was nothing. Nowhere for what little air that was left in Nick’s lungs to go.
Nick felt like his eyes would burst out of his head as he searched in vain for someone or something to help him. He saw the metal pipe laying in the corner several feet away. If only he could reach it.
He tried to grab the man’s hands and peel them off his throat, but the vicegrips were locked on, and Nick thought he saw the crazy smile at his feeble attempt to free himself.
Nick kicked and squirmed in futility like all dying prey animals do.
Then Nick lost something. The panic disappeared, and he felt his extremities go numb. If he was still flailing, he could no longer tell.
Staring into the eyes of his killer, Nick’s world began to fade. The light became dim. Nick looked past the crazy at the waning sun, which he noticed no longer hurt his eyes. Nick’s vision narrowed, growing black from the periphery until all that was left were pinholes of sunlight. Then nothing.
CHAPTER 33
NICK’S BODILESS SELF moved higher into soft warmth. He was there, though he didn’t know where there was. Nor did he care. He simply was without needing to be, without needing to remember where he had been or know where he was going next. Was there a next?
He felt himself move. He was drifting. Somewhere. He didn’t know where. Then the warmness dissipated without warning, and Nick knew he could stay here no longer. In a microsecond, Nick’s consciousness flashed downward.
He gasped and felt the fiery fuel of oxygen burn his lungs. Life returned with a vengeance along with the conscious suffering required to sustain it.
Nick opened his eyes, squinting at the orange, yellow glow that surrounded him. The sun—where was the sun? he thought. He found the golden orb closer to the horizon, and it was only then he realized he wasn’t looking at the sky. Not directly, anyway. He was looking through cloth or canvas, inside a temporary shelter, a tent that was illuminated by ambient daylight.
He turned his head and felt stiffness that he soon discovered was not isolated to any one joint. He was in bed, and there was a row of empty beds beside his. On the other side of the drafty room was another row of empty cots. As he swung his legs out from under the sheets, he noticed he was wearing a hospital gown. He felt a sudden flutter in his chest as his heart seemed to only now be waking up and was working double-time to maintain pressure.
As he stepped down with bare feet onto the cold, concrete floor, he felt the tug of an attached IV in his left hand. Nick stared at it for a moment, trying to make sense of it and the rest of his surroundings. He barely knew who he was, let alone where he was or how he had gotten there.
Sufficiently dissatisfied, he pulled off the multi-layered tape that had held the IV port into the top of his hand. Sharp pain taught him to remove the adhesive strips from both sides of the port first and then pull out the inch-and-a-half long needle. He dropped it, and the port hung from the mobile pump station, stopping a foot from the ground where it swung and dripped.
“Hello,” Nick spoke cautiously. He called out again, louder this time, as he passed the foot of the bed. Just then, through the flaps at one end of the tent emerged a figure that made Nick wonder if he was dreaming. The bald, muscular man resuscitated Nick’s memory, of the past several days, of the update, of Jimmy and Lusa and the Polaris building and this man in front of him, his killer.
Nick jumped back with wobbly legs, grasping the bedframe at the foot of the bed for support. He wanted to run, to arm himself, something. But soon, his mind calmed as he realized the crazy wasn’t attacking, wasn’t presenting any threatening moves at all.
Nick looked him over more closely. “Well I’ll be…” he said. Then as the wave of relief swept over him, Nick chuckled, then belly laughed.
He walked up to the man, examined the chip in the side of his head and said, “Not so tough now, are you?” He paused, savoring the moment and rewinding his most recent memories. Apparently, the gas had reached the top of the Polaris building in time to knock the two of them out. And, Nick recognized, with no time to spare.
“Where is everybody?” Nick asked the new drone. When it didn’t answer, he realized he didn’t know its name and wouldn’t get anywhere playing Simon-says.
Nick heard the sounds of footsteps outside, so he moved past the beastly drone. He squinted as he exited through the flap, his tender eyes adjusting to brighter light. He shaded his eyes with one hand and surveyed his surroundings. He was still in Fairbanks, he realized—up near the Immaculate Conception Church north of the Chena river bridge. Covering the street in organized rank and file was a drone army, uniformed and under complete control.
“Aw, there’s sleeping beauty,” said a voice. Nick turned just as a gust of wind tried to blow his gown into a more embarrassing configuration. He patted down his already conspicuous clothing, feeling like he was in that classic shot of Marilyn Monroe over the street grate.
“Vaughn,” Nick said when he saw the man. “Am I glad to see you.”
“I bet you are, young man,” Vaughn said taking Nick’s hand in his as warmly as the cold fingered doctor could. “I guess you’ve got some questions for me,” Vaughn said.
Nick knew he should, but his mind worked slowly, still partly asleep. Nick started, “How long…”
“Let’s see,” Vaughn said, checking his command display. “You’ve been unconscious for
just over seventy-two hours.”
“Three days?” Nick exclaimed.
“I told you the gas was effective,” Vaughn smiled.
“Yeah, but…What about all these?” Nick waved his hand at the thousands of drones in the impromptu training yard.
“We didn’t exactly wait around for them all to wake up,” Vaughn explained. “Fortunately, I already had drones ready to help plant chips on the new recruits. Took a solid ten hours from when I first got here.”
Nick simply stared at his surroundings, taking in the moment and trying to appreciate what success looked like. From across the way, he spotted another familiar face. Jimmy stood at the head of a group of drones, addressing them with commands that Nick couldn’t hear.
“I can see you’ve got some catching up to do,” Vaughn said, seeing Nick’s focus. Then he called for Jimmy who turned and at first gave an aggravated look, which melted immediately after spotting his brother.
Jimmy ran over, and Nick attempted to meet him halfway, but the rough road under his feet slowed his pace. The two brothers embraced in a hard bearhug.
“Easy,” Nick begged. “I’m sorer than that time I got sacked by Michael McLaney.”
Jimmy released him and said, “You mean ole butter butt?”
The two brothers laughed and carried on like it was old times until Nick had a flash of concern. “Where’s Lusa?” he asked.
“She left,” Jimmy answered. “Went to intercept emergents before they reached her people.”
Nick raised his hand to his head, feeling the strain. “I thought she’d gotten that out of her system already. And besides, wasn’t the whole point to send our new drone army to do the dirty work? Now that the transmission relay is up, we don’t need handlers on the front lines, do we?”
Jimmy looked over at Vaughn who was back to work with his drones. “That’s what we told her,” Jimmy said. “But she wouldn’t listen. Once she saw the number of emergents heading toward one of the villages, she and Vaughn got into it, and she said she was going. But don’t worry, big brother. She took two dozen drones with her.” A big magnanimous smile broke out on Jimmy’s face. “Can you imagine the destruction you could create with twenty-four drones?”
Nick realized Jimmy was right. A hundred emergents were no match for that many drones. Lusa would be alright, he figured. Though he really wanted to see her and was troubled that she hadn’t waited for him to wake up. It’s not all about me, he told himself.
“I guess we did it,” Nick said finally.
Jimmy’s smile waned, and he said, “I think we’re just getting started.” He paused, and his face grew even more solemn. “That’s right,” he said. “You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”
“Seen who?” Nick asked.
Jimmy grabbed him by the shoulders, bracing him for what he would say next. “Nick, they found Dad.”
THE END
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The story continues in Tomorrow’s Cost (Final Update: Book 3).
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