“No!” Osborn shouted.
Zimmerman’s weapon hadn’t even slid out from its holster before the Replica’s hand locked around his throat and crushed his windpipe. Zimmerman spat up a fountain of blood before his neck broke with a snap.
Osborn thought he would vomit. He watched in paralysis as the Replica released both agents. The thing faced him with a level expression.
“I think I can find my own way from here,” it said, wiping blood and chunks of brain matter from its hand onto Osborn’s shirt.
Osborn dared not to say anything about it.
Knox led the way through a short corridor, while Nikolai struggled to keep up, his arm wrapped around his battered side.
“How are we going to get out?” Nikolai asked. “I’m pretty sure the police aren’t going to just let me leave.”
“There’s a door up ahead,” Knox said, pointing. “That’ll lead us down to the old storage room, and from there, the garage, where we can get a car.”
When they reached the door, Knox unlocked it with his badge. As he pushed it open, Twenty appeared around the corner.
Osborn stood for a long moment after the Replica had gone, trying to collect himself. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t simply ignore the dead agents lying in pools of their own blood. Too many people had seen him heading toward holding with the Replica.
“Attention,” he said into the nearest intercom. “Attention, all officers. There’s a terrorist in the building. I repeat, there’s a terrorist in the building going into holding. Requesting all officers to report there at once!”
“Jesus!” Crowe exclaimed.
Knox turned to the Replica. He snatched Crowe’s arm and threw him over the threshold. “Get out! I’ll hold him off.”
He slammed the door on Crowe and pulled Rivera’s gun. The Replica dodged the bullets as it moved toward him. Knox stood his ground, holding the trigger until the gun emptied, then pulled his own gun, but the Replica was on him. It grabbed the weapon and turned it back. Knox’s wrist twisted and his elbow cracked. The gun fell from his hand as the Replica shoved him hard. Knox slid across the slick floor and came to a stop at the end of the hall, where he grabbed his broken arm. At the other end, the Replica picked up his gun.
“Another human who thinks he can control me. I won’t allow it.”
Knox watched helplessly as the Replica approached him. He had no time to get up before the thing towered over him. He didn’t even look at the gun; being shot was the least of what he imagined could happen to him.
He’d heard about the horrific things Replicas were capable of doing.
“It’s time humans learn they’re no longer the emperors on the throne,” the Replica said.
“Hey! Spokesperson for Hair Club for Men,” a voice called from down the hall.
The Replica craned his neck to where Crowe stood by the stairwell door, which had closed behind him.
“Get the hell out of here!” Knox shouted.
“I’m the one you want. Here I am!”
Knox stood and rushed the Replica, which only earned him a hard shove against the wall. The impact rattled his brain inside his skull, and he slid to the floor. There was no escape now for Crowe, not with a locked door behind him. Even in perfect physical condition, no human could outrun a Replica.
It approached him and glared down at him.
Crowe swallowed nervously and said in a shaky voice, “Whatever you’re going to do, just get it over with. I hate procrastinators.”
As the sound of clattering footsteps echoed nearby, the Replica grabbed Crowe by the jacket and yanked him forward. It kicked opened the door and dragged him into the stairwell.
Officers appeared around the corner, guns drawn.
“What happened?” one asked, rushing to Knox. “Are you all right?”
“They went into storage,” he said.
“How many?” the officer pressed, signaling for the others to go down the stairwell.
“Two,” he replied, hurrying toward the door. “But one of them is a Replica.”
“A Replica?” she exclaimed. “Why … ?”
“Don’t ask,” he said, moving officers aside to get past the mangled door and into the stairwell. He looked over the railing and down to the cops below. “See anyone?” he called.
They shook their heads. “No one,” someone answered.
“Who was the other person?” the woman asked, coming up behind him.
He kept his eyes directed below. “Nikolai Crowe,” he said just above a whisper. “It took Nikolai Crowe.”
Chapter 29
“We have to get on the bridge,” Marko said, his voice trembling with nervousness. “We only have thirty seconds.”
“I’m lookin’, man,” Kip said anxiously. “But the police have a solid wall of cars across the entire mouth of the bridge. They’ve got us completely blocked.”
Marko saw the blue and red flashing lights on the Queensboro Bridge. Every other car on the road had pulled over to the shoulder, leaving the street open all the way to the roadblock. He glanced over where Ari drove beside him.
“Looks like this is it,” Kip said with a fake smile. “Had a hell of a time working with you, man.”
Marko wiped sweat from his brow. His mouth was so dry every word he spoke scratched his throat. He looked in the rearview. Cops herded them from behind, boxing them in from the rear. He couldn’t allow his crew to be taken. “Do it.”
“What?” Kip said, confused. “Now?”
“Yes, goddamn it! We only have ten seconds.”
Kip opened the top half of the same remote he’d used to detonate the teargas and bombs back at the strip club. A green button with a Smiley face lay under the cover. “Hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, pressing the button.
Loud explosions erupted on either side of the bridge behind the officers, who suddenly scattered as the ground rumbled beneath them.
“There,” Kip said, pointing. “We can break through right there!”
“Follow me,” Marko said into the radio.
“Copy,” Ari replied.
Marko accelerated, pushing the jeep to its top speed. Thick smoke plumed into the sky where the East River wind blew it over the roadblock. Marko’s jeep crashed into the front side fenders of two police cars. The iron extensions they’d welded on the front bumper helped cut through the vehicles and shove them out of the way. The impact was hard, but the jeep prevailed. It kept moving through the blinding smoke, toward one of the breaches off to the side.
“Masks on!” Marko exclaimed over the radio.
Kip slipped a mask over his face and started the oxygen. Marko turned the jeep one way while Ari turned off in the other direction. They drove through the gaps and over the edge of the Queensboro Bridge. The fall lasted seconds before the jeeps started to upend.
“Kip!” he shouted.
Kip depressed the radio button, not to turn on music, but to eject the seats. The roof of the jeep detached and flew off. Rockets detonated beneath the front seats, shooting them into the air. Ari, Dog, and Mockingbird ejected as well on the other side of the bridge. Black parachutes released from the back of their seats, and they glided down.
When Marko plummeted into the cold river, he unbuckled himself from the seat and swam. It was a clean escape and no one so much as saw his face.
The Replica drove the stolen car from the police garage with Nikolai beside him in the passenger seat.
“I’m just going to tell you right now,” Nikolai said. “I don’t know where the other Replica is.”
“I’m not after him any longer,” replied the Replica as he glared at Nikolai in a way that sent a painful shudder up his spine. “I have what I want.”
Nikolai swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked weakly.
“A place where we won’t be found.”
He didn’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t understand. Why not kill me a
lready? What are you planning on doing?”
The Replica was emotionless. “You’ll find out once we’re there. For now, keep quiet. I’m driving.” He returned his attention to the road.
Nikolai wished he’d kept his inquiries to himself. In the station, he’d been terrified when he’d given himself up to save Knox. Every muscle in his body had twitched for him to run like mad. Now he was trapped in the car, driving God knows where. The scary cryptic answers to his questions only produced gruesome and graphic thoughts. Wherever the Replica was taking him, it would be secluded. The Replica would have the chance to do whatever torturous things he wanted. Getting beaten by the cops wasn’t as terrifying as this.
The Alphas watched the news on a TV screen in the lab van. A police sergeant gave an interview at the 18th Precinct. She explained how a terrorist had entered the building, killed two people, and had kidnapped Nikolai Crowe. Ebenezer had an inkling of who was responsible. When footage of Twenty waiting at the front desk appeared, his suspicion sadly proved true.
“Where would he have taken him?” Stewart asked from the driver’s seat.
Ebenezer closed his eyes. He had to think like Twenty. The Replica had developed arrogance and would want to find a place to exact his revenge over time, to regain what he’d felt had been stolen. There was only one place where Twenty would know for certain he could do that.
“The East River Prison,” he said, opening his eyes. “That’s where they’re going. We must hurry, or Nikolai will be dead before we get to him.”
The car pulverized the gate of a pathetic chain-link fence. Lowering his arms from his face, Nikolai saw the prison ahead. He’d come to this place twice in one night; but this time, it would be the last.
When they reached the front entrance of the complex, the Replica slammed on the brakes, throwing Nikolai against the dashboard. He got out and walked around to the passenger side. Nikolai noticed the keys dangling from the ignition and tried moving to the driver seat. The Replica snatched him out of the car and threw him backwards. He landed on the gravel road, triggering new and old pains. A looming silhouette stood over him.
“If you try escaping, I’ll slowly dismember your body. Do you understand?”
Nikolai couldn’t give him an answer. Fear had his tongue. The Replica grabbed him by the jacket and hoisted him to his feet. “Let’s go,” he growled, shoving him forward.
Hopelessly, Nikolai headed for the building.
“You ought to see a doctor about that arm,” Officer Sutherland said to his passenger.
The burning throb of his broken arm brought a queasy feeling to Knox’s stomach. It made him break out in a cold sweat. There was no time to cast it; he had to find Crowe. As Sutherland drove, Knox refused to take his eyes off the street. “I’m fine. Just keep driving. If they left on foot, they might not have gone far.”
His phone rang. “Yeah?”
A woman’s voice was on the other end. “It’s Sergeant Kazan. I’ve got news. One of my officers just told me his car is missing from the garage.”
“The car should have a GPS in it,” he said. “Trace it.”
“Already done. The car is at the East River Prison.”
The East River Prison? Why would that thing take Crowe there … Oh, God!
In a panic, he grabbed the officer’s radio. “Attention all units! The Replica is at the East River Prison. I repeat: the Replica is at the East River Prison.”
“The terrorist is a freaking Replica?” Sutherland asked.
“He isn’t a terrorist. They just said he was for the media. Let’s get our asses to the prison.”
Sutherland switched on his lights and sirens and changed direction.
They entered the dark mess hall, where Nikolai blindly groped around until the Replica handed him a flashlight.
“This is where it first happened,” the Replica said, stepping into the room.
“Where what first happened?” Nikolai inquired, clicking on the light.
The Replica shot him a bitter look. “Where things began going very wrong for me.” He walked away. “You shot me here. That cost me the Alpha.”
Nikolai glanced at the back door, which led to the yard where the sewer tunnel lay.
“Then we encountered on the subway train,” the Replica continued, “and you got away from me for the second time.” He clenched his fist and gritted his teeth in rage. “I wanted to kill you more than any of the Alphas I was sent to eliminate. I wanted you to pay for the emotions I’ve recently developed. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t feel such irritating things.”
Nikolai neared the door. He wasn’t going to stand around and wait to be slaughtered. If he had the slightest chance to escape he was going to take it, regardless of what it could cost him. He hoped the light of the flashlight he’d left on the table would fool the Replica into believing he was still there.
He heard a voice in front of him. “But then I changed my mind.”
He had no time to react before the Replica’s hand slapped his chest and pushed him against a nearby column. It was worse than the pressure Ebenezer had inflicted on him. He struggled to breathe, but was only able to suck in short streams of air.
“Would you like to know why?” the Replica asked blithely. “Because I realized I can benefit from your kind and learn from them.”
The Replica let Nikolai go. Nikolai clutched his chest, gasping and coughing. Hot, stinging tears flooded his eyes. “So … so what d’you w-want from me?”
“I want to understand why I felt so angry when you escaped. Why I felt ashamed by it. What caused those people on the train to trample the old man to death, trying to get away from me? What were they feeling when they did such a thing to one of their own?”
“You want me to tell you about human emotions?”
“You decided to give your life for that other human at the police station. Why did you do that?”
Nikolai shrugged. “’Cause he needed my help. He risked his life to save mine. I owed him.”
“Owed him?” the Replica said, confused. “What do you mean by that?”
“Why do you want to know this? And why, of all people, do you want me to teach you?”
“I want to understand what these feelings are and what causes them. I’m going mad with all these strange emotions pouring over me when something occurs. It was easier when I was just a drone. I didn’t question or feel anything.” He took a step closer. Without warning, he grabbed Nikolai by the collar and pulled him forward. “It’s because of you that this is happening to me. It wasn’t until you shot me that I began feeling this way. I tried to ignore it. I went on with my mission. Then you crossed my path again. I kept my feelings in check by not killing you right away. I believed if I could get you to show me where the body of the Alpha was before I disposed of you, these feelings would cease.”
The Replica threw him to the side, sending Nikolai sliding across the dirty floor.
Great, he thought, sitting up. I’m dealing with a Replica with bi-polar disorder.
“I can’t take this anymore,” the Replica said, approaching him. “You’ll teach me everything I need to know. Afterwards, I’ll express my ability to grant mercy by killing you quickly.”
Nikolai scooted away as he approached. He was trapped, and unless he wanted to die in the bloodiest and most brutal way imaginable, he’d have to teach the monster things that monsters couldn’t comprehend.
A shot rang out, striking the Replica in the chest. The impact threw him backwards, landing him on his back. Nikolai looked behind him, but saw nothing except shadows. A familiar voice called to him. “Get over here.”
He wasted no time jumping to his feet and running toward the shadow. He expected to run into Ebenezer, but when he reached the other side of the room, there was no one.
The Replica slowly sat up as the remaining Alphas emerged from the dark and into the light of the flashlight, surrounding Twenty.
“Get up, Twenty,” Ebenezer ordered.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” Twenty said, standing up. “You wouldn’t have saved him if you didn’t feel what I feel.”
“You can never feel as I do,” Ebenezer argued. “Compassion and understanding can never be yours. What you feel is hatred and confusion—insanity. We were the fortunate ones who were born with emotions. You, on the other hand, are besieged by them and have become too dangerous to live.”
Silence fell over the room. Nikolai stood silently and watched the scene play out.
“Do you wish to go on this way?” Ebenezer finally asked.
Twenty’s chest rose with the air he took in. He exhaled and answered, “No.”
The Alphas opened fire. Twenty remained on his feet for a moment after it ceased. Finally, he coughed up a gob of blood and collapsed.
Nikolai approached as the Alphas closed in on the body. He stared down at the bloody corpse, emotionless.
“Are you all right?” Ebenezer asked.
Nikolai casually shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
In editing, Kenny set his camera up while Lee stood beside Stan, the technician, who’d been working on hacking into Channel Eight’s main broadcast system.
“I can lose my job for this,” Stan complained, typing on the keyboard. “We can all lose our jobs for this.”
“You saw the footage,” Lee said. “Once this airs, we might get a slap on the wrist.”
“A slap on the wrist?” Sakura argued, returning from the ladies room. “We’re going to be rewarded for this. We’ll be heroes for bringing this to the public’s attention.”
Sakura was ready for her big moment. She’d changed into suitable attire, freshened her make-up, and restyled her hair. She appeared as the person she dreamed of—an anchorwoman. After tonight, she would be a star in the news world.
“The camera is hooked into the computer,” Kenny said, rising from behind Lee’s workstation.
The Warning Page 30