by Eric Warren
“Arista?” Jonn asked, his voice closer.
“What did they promise you, Jonn? Less than twelve hours ago you were helping me escape. Or was that all a ruse?”
“Back when I thought that was my only option, yes, I had planned to help you.” He’d grown closer again. Arista reviewed the Compuarm schematic, looking for the correct controls. “But a lot has happened in a short span of time. Charlie explained it all to me. You are an anomaly to the system. And if we don’t get you under control then you could disrupt the entire balance. It would have been so much easier if you’d have just stayed in the apartment. It would have been near instantaneous, you never would have felt a thing.”
Her stomach dropped. Jonn? Jonn had ordered the apartment building destroyed? To get to her? “What have they done to you?” she whispered, staring straight ahead. It was incomprehensible. Was this because she had changed him? Had she turned him into a killer?
“It’s what I’ve done to myself,” he said, his voice very close, only a few feet away. He was behind her, on the other side of the control panel. “I finally found who I’m supposed to be. And where I belong. You never would have accepted me as a partner. I have a future with the Cadre. But none of it would have happened if it weren’t for you. So thank you.”
All those people in the apartment building. He’d killed them all. How callous did a person have to be? To murder so many, even if they were just husks. Arista thought back to Max, to the nurse in the hospital. She had been similarly as cold. But she wouldn’t have killed hundreds of them to take out one. She had only hurt those directly in her path, no others. It wasn’t excusable, but it wasn’t comparable to what Jonn had done.
“You’re not welcome,” she said, reaching up with her hand and slapping a series of three buttons in rapid succession. She stood up just enough to look Jonn in the eyes. The arm swung around fast, clocking him in the back of the head so hard, it tore his polymorphic skin, ripping through his hair and tearing part of it away from his face. Milliseconds before the hit she’d just barely registered his eyes weren’t the same color of orange they’d been when he showed them to her. Now they were tinged crimson. A strange mix of the orange and the red. He’d been corrupted.
Bullets started flying again, this time from all directions. She hit another series of buttons and the arm swung back, knocking Jonn to the ground and impaling him with its sharp end, holding him to floor. He screamed in response as she ducked down again, unsure where she’d go in the middle of all the different lines of fire. They had surrounded her in a hexagonal pattern, each machine controlling one-sixth of the space in even amounts. There had to be some way to use that to her advantage.
Jonn continued to scream on the other side of the equipment. She hoped it would kill him. He deserved nothing else. For one very brief moment, she thought he might come around, that the man she’d come to know over the past few months would make the right choice, but she’d been wrong about him. He wasn’t someone worth saving. She should have known the moment she saw him sitting on the other side of that Quantum Gate.
Arista glanced up. Above her, a series of steel gables ran the length of the room. If she could only get up there without being noticed. She turned to the conveyor belt still bringing bodies down the line and an idea popped into her head.
No. She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t use them again. These husks were at the end of the line, having been provided with base operating systems and clothes. She’d thought if she could use her ability to “activate” all the bodies on the belt they would wake up confused and disoriented and provide another dozen targets for the Peacekeepers to shoot at. But they were people, and she couldn’t do that to them. She refused to be like Jonn anymore. So she needed to keep her calm.
Instead, she ducked back behind the machine again, doing her best to keep out of the line of sight of the Peacekeepers based on the trajectory and origin of their bullets. As soon as she was on the other side she grabbed the first compatible body she could find.
It was a woman close to the same stature, but she had dark brown hair instead of blonde and it was longer. Arista only prayed this would work.
Grunting, she pulled the woman off the belt with her hand and using her wrist as a fulcrum, the woman landed with a thump. Laying her down gently on the ground, Arista silently told her she’d be alright. She then hopped up onto the line in her place, and laid down, doing her best to control her breathing.
The bullets continued to fly over her, but they seemed concentrated in the same vicinity where she’d disappeared behind the machine. With her dampener they wouldn’t be able to tell she wasn’t one of the machines on the production line. She glanced to her right and almost sat straight up from shock. It was the same old woman from Frees’ apartment building. The one with the little holographic dog. And here she lay, right on the production line.
He was replacing them all; that was the whole reason Jonn was here.
The belt moved her further and further down the system. She glimpsed ahead and her eyes widened at the next station. Ahead of her, a smaller robot opened the cranial panels of each machine and moving with them along the belt as it moved, injected a sharp needle into the center of their brains, flashing a bright light within them. That must be it. That must be the implementation of their individual personalities.
If she didn’t get off this belt immediately she’d be lobotomized.
Thirty-One
FREES CROUCHED DOWN BESIDE THE PRODUCTION LINE when the first shot rang out. He jumped up, only to see Arista scamper back underneath some equipment while machines took shots at her and their leader yelled something incomprehensible due to the noise around him. It looked like he was telling them to stop but Frees couldn’t be sure. What was for sure was these were no ordinary machines he’d brought with him. If they had guns that could only mean they were Peacekeepers. Somehow, they’d disguised themselves.
Frees lost Arista through the maze of equipment. Should he go help her? Or get the bodies? Without her there was no way he’d be able to free everyone; why had he been so stupid to agree to this plan? Because he thought even if the guy turned out to be not who she thought, Frees could handle one machine. Six was another matter. If he’d known those were Peacekeepers he never would have agreed. He would have grabbed the human by the arm and dragged her out of this place kicking and screaming if necessary.
He had to make sure she was safe. But he’d also made a promise. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the nearest body from the line toward him, yanking it off the belt and hauling it over his back. He didn’t sense any alarms but there was so much confusion going on at the moment he doubted if alarms mattered anymore. She certainly had created a distraction.
The shooting stopped for a moment and Frees made his way to the wall, staying in the shadows as much as possible. Suddenly a scream erupted from the middle of the din and the gunshots rang out again. Six distinct sources. Frees made his way to the closest one, coming up on a Peacekeeper focused on the center of the room, firing his weapon at regular intervals. Frees held up his palm and fired the felp, just as the Peacekeeper turned toward him. He dropped and Frees ran over him, hauling the body on his back as fast as he could. Would the other Peacekeepers notice the missing gunshots? He hoped not. He had no clue where Arista was but he had to take care of at least a few more of these guys before he could get in there to help her.
He continued to circle around, staying in the shadows, which wasn’t difficult as most of the room cast either harsh light or dark shadows around all the equipment. A second Peacekeeper stood close to his left and Frees kept low to stay out of sight. The Peacekeeper continued to fire but began to walk sideways toward Frees. They had noticed the lack in coverage and he was moving to compensate. To close the loop. Frees jumped up and fired again, dropping the Peacekeeper in a heap before he even registered he was under attack.
Two down, four to go.
The screaming from the middle of the room stopped. It m
ust have been that machine Arista knew. At least, he hoped it was. The rounds of fire had become sporadic; the Peacekeepers were probably figuring out they’d lost two of their own and having trouble staying on task. Frees continued to circle the room with the body on this back. It was best to stay mobile with the body. If he needed to make a quick getaway, he didn’t want to have to go back to some hiding spot to find it. And the added weight wasn’t slowing him down, to his surprise.
A bullet ripped through his shoulder and he dropped the husk, falling along with it. Frees rolled to the side as another three bullets peppered the ground where he’d just been. He popped up, firing the felp right at the projected target, based on nothing other than where the bullets had originated. The Peacekeeper had been hiding behind a piece of equipment and had stepped out to check his kill.
Three down.
Clutching his shoulder to prevent the leak of any further fluids, Frees continued moving, but without the body. If he lost too much fluid he’d lose control over that arm, and it was the one attached to the only weapon he had. He needed to be faster.
He counted only two different sets of gunshots now, and they’d changed their target. Arista must have moved. Frees stuck his head above the equipment to see two of the Peacekeepers firing on something in the distance, but where was the third? Suddenly one of them stopped firing and the only remaining one turned to fire at his cohort.
Frees stood and fired the felp at the remaining Peacekeeper, dropping him easily. He made his way over to the area, his eyes sharp for another ambush, but saw nothing. When he reached the Peacekeeper he’d just killed he found Arista there, sitting on top of the other one with a piece of metal in her hand.
“Took you long enough,” she said, sweat visible on her brow. Instinctively he wanted to recoil but he stood his ground.
“I was supposed to get the body out, remember?”
She dropped the piece of metal which clanged to the ground. “Did you get one?”
“Kinda. I pulled one from the belt.” He pointed behind him, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. “He’s back there.”
She stood, inspecting his wound. “How bad is it?”
“I’ll need a repair kit eventually, but I’m okay for now.”
“I remember how it went the last time you said that.”
“Funny. What happened to you?”
Arista turned, facing the production floor. “I hate to say it. But you were right. Jonn turned on me, and I had to escape. I used the belts and pretended to be a machine to get out of the gunfire. Once I was clear I managed to jump onto this long arm thing, which led to the gantry above.” She pointed up. “Then I just made my way back over and started ambushing them one by one.”
“All with one hand. Impressive.”
“Naturally.” She held up her hand and wiggled her fingers.
“Where’s Jonn? Did you kill him too?”
She motioned with her head and walked onto the production floor. Frees followed, still holding his shoulder. He wouldn’t have control much longer, the fluid continued to leak away.
Arista stopped in front of a long robotic arm, pushing itself into the ground. As she stepped aside Frees saw the man had been impaled right through the middle, and part of his face had been ripped off. He moved his head as if to acknowledge them, then turned away.
“I’m making him suffer. He destroyed your apartment building. And killed all those people.”
Frees wanted to rip the man limb from limb. So much machine life, wasted! And for what? To get to them? Instead, he leaned down, staring into the man’s face in a way he couldn’t look away. “You’re a coward,” Frees said. “A coward and a murderer. Taking innocent lives for convenience. You couldn’t face us yourself? You couldn’t even figure out a better way to draw us out?”
“You…were…in there. Saw…you go in.” He struggled with speech. With this type of injury, he wouldn’t last much longer.
“Maybe if you’d been smarter you would have realized there are tunnels under the city. We weren’t even in the building when you destroyed it.”
Jonn grimaced and closed his eyes, one still covered with skin and the other without.
Frees stood back up. “Now what?”
“Stick to the plan. Get the bodies. We’ll leave him here. That arm isn’t going anywhere.”
They left Jonn on the floor, walking out of earshot. “I can only carry one at a time, and it’s going to be slow.” Frees rubbed his shoulder.
“Let’s get to it. I’m sure Jill has a repair kit for you.”
“Yeah,” Frees said. “She’s got everything.” He led her to the body he’d left lying on the floor, sitting close to the fallen Peacekeeper. “I managed to get four of them, you know.”
“You have a gun built into your arm!”
“Just making sure you’re keeping score.” He smirked and moved to pick up the body.
“Playful banter is the sign of a developed relationship.”
They both froze, staring at the body before them.
“Frees, was that—?”
“No,” he replied.
The body moved his arms, pushed himself up and stood to face them. “It was me,” The man said. “I noticed you have become close. I’ve been looking for you, Arista.”
The body’s voice was strange; it had an odd cadence that Frees had never heard before. It was as if he put extra emphasis on the last word in every sentence.
“You must have accidentally activated this one,” Frees said. “Did you get lose control of your emotions?”
Arista shook her head.
“I understand your confusion,” the body said. “It isn’t every day you meet your god.”
Suddenly the production line halted again. Frees turned to see every single body sit up at once, all in different stages of completion. They all turned their heads to him and Arista, their gazes penetrating.
“What…” Arista began.
“Call me Charlie,” they all said in unison.
Arista took a step back, Frees followed suit. What was this? Some kind of trick?
“What are you?” Arista asked, finally finding her voice.
“I am the creator. I manage the experiment. I am one of the first three and I am responsible for everything. And I have been searching for you. I see you’ve dispatched my Peacekeepers and my failure of a protégé. Then again, they were never equipped to deal with you two.”
They continued to back up. The body had started walking toward them. And every machine on the production line stood, then dropped down to the floor simultaneously and began to close in on them.
“Frees,” Arista warned.
He shook his head. They were people. His people. He couldn’t just take them offline. What if they just ran? He might be able to outpace them, but they’d have Arista in a minute. “What is happening?” he asked.
“I am taking control of the situation,” the body said. “You will accompany me back to the Cadre.”
“Frees, start shooting,” Arista implored.
There had to be at least a hundred of them. All different sizes, races, ages. Some children, some old people. Was that Ms. Cardenas in the crowd? What was she doing in there? In fact, now that he looked, he recognized many of them. They were his neighbors from his building. The people who lived their lives around him. The people he couldn’t help until he’d found Arista.
“Just do your thing!” Frees yelled to her. “Once they wake up they’ll stop.”
The man Frees had picked up shook his head, though his penetrating gaze never left Frees. “That is not correct, Frees. Your human friend cannot overwrite me. Though she is welcome to try.”
“I’m not even sure I can do it on command!” Arista yelled, still backing up.
“I am.” The body grinned. “And you don’t have the skill.” He turned back to Frees. “I’ve been looking for you a long time. You and your cohorts. You are the random anomaly in the system. You must be good to have hidden from me with a f
ace like that.”
“I don’t get out much,” Frees said through gritted teeth. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. But if they were to have any chance of escape, if he was to have any chance of freeing everyone, he didn’t have a choice. Six Peacekeepers and now this.
Frees raised his hand, firing the felp as fast as he could, first taking down the body in front of them. The one meant for Arista’s dad. He got off six shots, nine, twelve, fifteen. The forms rushed them. Arista turned and ran, Frees hot on her heels.
He fired four more times, each shot hitting his target square in the chest. If only he had a way to increase the spread of the felp he could take out a lot more at once. But he was also draining his power, quick. His mind snapped back to the power cell in his pocket. What if he plugged the cell directly into the felp? It might be worth the—
“Oof,” he said, running into Arista who had stopped in front of him. He hadn’t been looking forward, instead he was more concerned with the mass of bodies encroaching from the back.
“Frees,” she said, staring straight ahead.
Frees turned to see a swarm of half-finished machine bodies approaching from the direction they’d come. They must have made their way over from the other part of the plant. Some didn’t even have arms or other parts of their bodies yet. One crawled on the floor toward them, its metal hands making an awful scraping sound as they dug into the floor.
“What do we do?” Arista asked.
They didn’t have a choice. The throng ahead of them was at least twice as large as the one behind. They’d need to retreat back into the other building. But to do that, he’d have to destroy a couple hundred husks.
“Damn,” he said under his breath, fishing out the power cell from his pocket.
“What? What are you doing?” she asked.
“Taking a risk.” Frees opened a port on his forearm, exposing a direct connection to the felp in his palm. He jammed the energy cell directly into where the power supply connected with his primary functions. “Here we go.” Frees opened his palm and activated the felp. “Close your eyes!”