The Warning

by Michelle E Lowe

  It was a Replica. He could see that, and although he felt a bit remorseful for its death, he found it presented the perfect opportunity to make his escape—until the killer came into view.

  Model 4020 stepped into the train, holding a Panther LR308T rifle by his side. His eyes were fixed on the dead Replica as he closed in on the body. He turned in the direction of the screaming passengers, pushing against one another to escape. Then Twenty’s cold eyes clicked on Nikolai.

  “Oh shit,” he muttered when the Replica approached.

  He shot to his feet and turned to join the frantic mass of passengers, only to feel the back of his jacket snagged. He flew backward over the aisle and hit the ground, tumbling and crashing into the door. There was no time to recover before Twenty hovered over him.

  “Where is he?” the Replica demanded as Nikolai slowly rose to his feet.

  Shock rendered him speechless. His silence angered the Replica, who grabbed him on both sides of the torso and squeezed.

  “Where is he?” Twenty repeated, lifting him off the ground. “Where is the Replica?”

  “He’s dead,” Nikolai gasped, trying desperately to pry his hands loose. He was being crushed as though in a vise. Each word strained past his lips. “You smashed his head in and … and he died after we got … got away.”

  “Where’s the body?” Twenty asked in the same steady tone. “My creator will need to send someone to pick it up.”

  “If I tell you, you’ll fucking kill me,” Nikolai gasped through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll kill you anyway,” Twenty threatened, pressing harder. “Only I’ll make it hurt more if you withhold information from me.”

  He cried out, short of breath. His bodily organs liquefied.

  Twenty eased off a bit. “Where is the body?”

  Taking in a painful breath, he said, “Somewhere near the … prison. I don’t know exactly where … but I can help you find it.”

  The Replica released him, and Nikolai dropped to the floor. He gasped for air; daggers of pain pierced him with each breath.

  “You’ll take me there,” Twenty said.

  Nikolai tilted his chin up at him, his eyes red and glossy. What have I done? This thing is gonna rip me to pieces!

  Twenty reached down to pull him up.

  The windows shattered around him. Bullets sprayed into the car, and Nikolai’s first thought was that it was the police. Beside him, the Replica drew a 9mm handgun and grabbed him by the collar. His heart lurched into his throat when he realized the Replica was going to make an escape, dragging him along for the ride. He imagined if that happened the Replica wouldn’t be too gentle about it. He’d be lucky if he made it out of the subway with all four limbs attached.

  Several officers entered the train and opened fire. Twenty released him and turned to retaliate. Nikolai saw the bullet holes speckled in the Replica’s bulletproof vest.

  He reached up and groped for the door release button. The doors slid open and he fell backwards between the cars. Before the Replica noticed what he’d done, he opened the other door and crawled into the next car.

  “Hold it,” an officer ordered.

  Nikolai rose to his knees and raised his hands, keeping his head bowed. His hood hovered over his brow, enough to shield his face. “Please, don’t shoot. That mad fucker in there tried to kill us!”

  The officer grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “He’s a passenger,” he announced, throwing Nikolai to the cop behind him. “Get him the hell out of here.”

  Nikolai kept his head down as the other officer dragged him by the arm to the automatic doors. He knew the police would hold him for questioning once the scene was under control; and once his face was revealed, there wouldn’t be any questions, only a nice, new pair of shiny handcuffs and a free ride to the nearest police station.

  “Wait,” he said, “that thing in there is a Replica.”

  The officer stopped. “Did you say a Replica?”

  “Yeah. If you guys go in, you’ll be dead.”

  The officer pushed him behind a column. “Stay there.”

  The officer hurried back to the train car, where others were ready to breech. Not many cops were around, only the ones who’d been stationed by the mayor’s command. He had a clear path to the escalator and went for it.

  Reaching the top, Nikolai ran to the stairs leading up to the street. It was ironic how a Replica had saved him from getting arrested, and now the police had helped him escape the Replica.

  He caught a cab after reaching the street.

  “Jeez, kid, did you just come outta the subway?” the driver asked, looking into his review mirror. “I heard over the scanner that some madman is shooting up the place down there.”

  “I didn’t notice anything,” he lied, keeping his face to the window, out of sight. He breathed heavily from adrenaline and exertion. He wrapped his arms around his aching torso.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I got robbed, that’s all.”

  “That sucks. Wanna find a cop?”

  “I doubt the cops will give a rat’s ass about me. Just take me home.”

  “You got robbed, huh? Are ya ass out?”

  “I’ve got some cash left.”

  “All right, where d’you live?”

  He reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out the MIR card, inside the plastic baggie. “In Queens,” he said, making sure it was still in once piece. “I live in Queens.”

  A manhole cover flew up on a quiet street, then the body of a dead Replica erupted from the sewer. Both the corpse and lid fell to the road as Twenty emerged, his body and vest riddled with bullet holes. The blood loss made him weak. He needed to pluck as many bullets from his body as he could and wait for the wounds to heal.

  He staggered to a nearby curb and sat down. Wiping blood from his eyes, he got on his communicator. “Model 3012 is dead and ready for pickup.”

  “Standby for location,” came a female’s voice. “Confirmed. Explain yourself. We’ve tracked your previous location to a subway station. Is that where you destroyed Twelve?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you attack him in a public place?”

  “I had to chase him. He ran into the subway and would have gotten away if I hadn’t taken action.”

  “You should have continued your pursuit,” the woman snapped, “until you were both in a more secluded place, or opted to let him escape. Now we have to send a special team to clean up your mess before the entire city learns what’s going on.”

  He awaited the order to stay with the body and return to the lab. If that happened, he didn’t know what fate he would face.

  “There’s a Dumpster in the alley beside you,” she said. “Put the body in there for us and continue with the mission.”

  “Of course,” Twenty said, clicking off the communicator.

  Twenty dragged the lifeless body into the alley and threw it into the Dumpster. Another new and strange emotion hardened him. He made his first rebellious decision.

  I wouldn’t have gone back if they had ordered me to. I will never return to that place.

  He left the alley, no longer caring about the mission the way he once had. He needed to tend to his wounds and allow his body to heal before pushing on. When ready, he would hunt for blood—human blood.

  “We have to bring him back in,” Waver said to Linden in his office. She took off her communicator headset and placed it on his desk. “He isn’t supposed to fire his weapon around unarmed people. It doesn’t appear that he’s been programmed properly to handle this discreetly.”

  Linden leaned back in his chair. “I disagree. Twenty may act wild, but I still control him. He’s behaving exactly the way I programmed him.”

  Waver’s eyes widened. “You deliberately programmed him to be this reckless? How could you? Are you trying to destroy your life’s work?”

  “I’m merely experimenting. I wanted to see how my creations would beha
ve if I tried something new. I programmed Twenty to be more aggressive than the others to determine how much faster he could get the job done.

  “Your carelessness threatens the very foundation of our work.”

  “Our work?” he said testily. “This is my work. I founded this operation and I can do whatever I damn well please with it.”

  “But he’s killed people!” she fired back. “Don’t you have any sympathy for them?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t. In fact, I consider them fortunate, considering what’s to come in the near future. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. And so do you, I believe.”

  Held by his unblinking eyes, she saw something she’d never seen before: madness. Perhaps it had always been there. She left his office and shuddered.

  Considering what’s to come in the near future, she thought while walking down the quiet hall. Has he gone completely insane? What the hell is he thinking? What is he planning?

  Christos sat busy at his computer. His spacious room was adorned with everything a ten year-old boy could want. Stupid kid stuff, he often thought.

  He hated the things in his room: the toys, kid posters, and most of all, the books meant for entertaining a child. The walls were even light blue, which hadn’t been his choice. Yet he hadn’t said anything to his father about how he felt. Instead, he allowed the old man to believe he enjoyed it. Pretending to like a room were the little things that kept him safe from suspicion. He needed to keep a low profile, especially at a time like this. As he got older, he had sensed Linden’s fear growing. Linden was afraid he might overpower him someday; might even rip him apart if he was angry enough. It was likely the reason why the man had built him another wing on the other side of the laboratory, away from his own apartment. Linden claimed it was to give him his own space, but he knew the real reason. He simply couldn’t handle him possessing the free mind that the other Replicas allegedly lacked. Even so, he’d yet to order him to the Pit, so he must have some affection for him.

  The constant clicking of his keyboard was the only sound in the room. In a private chat, he communicated with someone from his past.

  He typed, it won’t b long now b4 they come back, and hit SEND.

  just b careful, came the reply. it would pain me deeply if something happened 2 u. is david suspicious yet?

  if he was, I’d b dead now. r u sure u don’t know the password?

  it could b anything. u said it has a lock?

  yes, and if I guess wrong, it’ll lock up and alert him.

  then wait and have him tell u himself.

  Through the course of several months he’d hacked into Linden’s secret files, trying to find an easy way to end his plans, but he’d hit a brick wall when he’d come across a sophisticated security system. In order to proceed, he needed a password. If he typed in the wrong word, the file would freeze and notify Linden about the intrusion. If Linden discovered someone snooping around in his files, he’d not only install a more complex security system to protect the records, but he wouldn’t stop until he’d find the one who’d breached them. Once he learned it was him, he’d surely order his execution, cloned son or not. Dying before fulfilling the objective would mean losing everything, and the world would suffer for it.

  Another obstacle stood in his way. The function of the information, guarded by a single password, could only be disarmed from specialized computers hidden somewhere in the lab. He had a sinking suspicion the computers were in the forbidden East Wing.

  i have 2 go now. i need 2 do some packing, Christos sent.

  take care and good luck, came the reply. I’ll c u soon, son.

  Chapter 16

  The yellow cab stopped in front of a rundown apartment building on 38th Street, two blocks from the old Aviation HS aircraft place in Queens.

  “Jeez, kid, you live here?” the cab driver asked.

  “Yeah,” Nikolai lied, reaching into his back pocket. “How much?”

  “Sixty-two thirty-eight.”

  Nikolai handed him the money and got out. The moment he shut the door the taxi sped off and rounded the corner sharply. Once the cab was gone, he headed toward 48th Avenue then back west. On 35th Street , a windowless strip club stood at the end of the road. The Arabian structure sat oddly in the middle of a parking lot, like a mirage in a sizzling desert. The white stucco walls had been artfully spray-painted with graffiti. A pair of dead palm trees stood near either corner of the building. Sun-damaged sapphire tiles decorated a large dome on the rooftop.

  After surveying the grounds, he climbed the chain-link fence and rushed across the parking lot. Several deep cracks carved into the concrete. He passed over them with caution and reached a waterless fountain to a pair of boarded-up arch doors ahead. Looking through a small space between the sheets of plywood, he saw nothing. At the back of the building was a lone station wagon parked under a single flickering streetlight, as well as a metal stairwell leading up to a back door. He ran up the stairwell and banged on the metal door.

  This is stupid. I’m going to get my sorry ass shot out here.

  He took a step back and waited. A red blink caught his eye. He raised his chin and saw nothing but a burned-out light bulb above the door. He stared at it until the red light blinked again; a camera, most likely a quad cam. He was willing to bet that more were hidden around the building, catching every move he made.

  Removing his hood, he waved at the light. “Hello? I’m Nikolai, Jade’s friend.”

  He heard a click from inside, and the heavy door swung open.

  “I was sent here to—”

  Someone grabbed him and yanked him inside. The door slammed shut, leaving the red light blinking as usual.

  “Mr. Loy,” Rivera said into the intercom.

  “Yeah?” came Loy’s voice through the intercom beside the building’s entrance.

  “I’m Detective Rivera. I need a few minutes of your time.” He waited for a response when the buzzer went off, unlocking the door.

  “Come in.”

  He went to the first door and knocked. The landlord answered, wearing a pair of red-and-yellow-striped pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt. He stepped aside to let him in.

  “Yooz came by just in time,” Loy said, walking into the kitchen. “I just made a fresh batch of coffee. Want some?”

  “No, thanks,” he said, standing under an archway leading into the living room. “Just have some quick questions to ask you.”

  “Aight.” Loy poured a cup of coffee for himself. “Any luck finding dat kid?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well,” He returned with a hot mug in his hand, “guess it don’t matter no ways, since de mayor’s got de city on lock-down. Won’t be long before he turns up someplace.”

  “I understand Detective Knox has already questioned you,” he began as the man sat down in a lounge chair.

  “Yeah, sometime dis evening.”

  “He asked you about the security systems on the apartment windows.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you told him that every window has its own code and only the tenants and you know the combination to?” He kept his voice pleasant, a technique used to keep an unsuspecting person calm and willing to speak.

  “Yeah. I mean, both me and my brother knows de codes.”

  His eyes widened a bit. “Brother? Is your brother named Scott Loy?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Does he by any chance have a tattoo of a spider on his left arm?”

  “Yooz talkin’ ’bout his ‘happyface’ spider? I laughed when he got it, ’cause he’s scared shitless of spiders. Guess he thought it was alvo, or somethin’. How do yooz know ’bout his tat?”

  Another connection.

  “Do you change the codes when someone moves out?” Rivera asked, going back to his previous line of questioning.

  Loy seemed surprised. “Course. De codes and locks get changed, all dat shit. It’s de law, y’know?”

  Rivera grinned and let out
a dry laugh. His pleasing voice dropped to a low and earnest tone. “Tell me, Mr. Loy, who paid you for the code to Miss Sho’s window?”

  The grin on Loy’s face vanished.

  “You knew she was going to be murdered, didn’t you? You were paid by someone to give out the code, and then you sat back and allowed it to happen.”

  The mug shook in Loy’s quivering hand. “I dunno what you’re talking ’bout,” he said, standing and pointing to the door. “I think yooz oughta go now.”

  “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. There was more than one person in Miss Sho’s apartment when she was killed, but the footage showed only Crowe entering and leaving her place. That means the other person involved had to have come through the window. The only way they could’ve done that was if someone disarmed the code and unlocked it from the inside.” He stared hard at Loy. “That someone was you, wasn’t it?”

  Knox’s gut feeling about Loy’s assistance had only one loophole. Sho herself could have left the window unlocked.

  Again, Loy was reluctant to answer. “I dunno what you’re talking ’bout.”

  “Mr. Loy,” he said, pulling back his coat, exposing his holstered gun, “if you don’t start telling me the truth, you’re going to force me to take advantage of the More Aggressive Law.”

  A deep silence fell over the room as they eyed each other. Rivera didn’t blink. Showing his gun was a ruse. No such law permitted an officer to use lethal force without good cause. He just wanted Loy’s imagination to run with that possibility.

  “I wasn’t paid,” Loy admitted, lowering back into the chair.

  Rivera allowed his coat to fall back over his weapon. “Go on.”

  Loy took a sip of coffee and sighed. “My brother ain’t on vacation like I told de other detective. He’s hiding for an attempted armed robbery of a gas station. Three nights ago he told me he got a call from some lady, saying dat if he didn’t do what she wanted, he’d be arrested.”

  “Who was the woman?”

  Loy shrugged. “Dunno. Never saw her, and he only talked to her once. He said dat on de fourteenth of dis month he was to go into Sho’s place after she left and disarm de security system. She told ’im she’d call back de next day to repeat her instructions. Scott was too damn scared to stick around, so he gave me his cell phone and bailed. When she called back, I talked to her.”