by Jake Bible
“None of it has looked familiar since we entered the fucking bubble,” Ivy said. “But we have to keep going. Flipside BOP is out there somewhere.”
“It’d be great if comms worked,” Cosio said.
“It’d be great if most of this shit worked,” Ivy said and smacked the dashboard.
Every instrument, except for the basic gauges, was no longer working. Ivy was waiting for the motors to give up the ghost soon. It had been an avalanche of tech malfunctions the past two days since they had returned to their small camp with Nochez.
“Keep driving,” Ivy said.
“Boss, we could be heading in the complete wrong direction,” Cosio said. “We keep driving and we might end up on the West Coast instead of back at Flipside BOP. There are Russians on the West Coast.”
“There could be Russians anywhere,” Ivy said. “Keep driving.”
Cosio fixed her with a harsh gaze then nodded. She twirled her hand in the air and pointed forward then put the speed roller into gear and started off again.
Ivy twisted in her seat and slid open the hatch to the roller’s hold.
“You okay back there?” Ivy asked Nochez who was lying across one of the benches.
“I feel fine, Ivy,” Nochez said. “Just like the last time you asked me.”
“Not feeling sick or anything?” Ivy pressed.
“Are you? I survived when my teammates didn’t,” Nochez said. “I am not worried about me. But I am worried about exposing you.”
“Two days and no symptoms,” Ivy said. “You’re probably right that you aren’t contagious.”
“But I still have to remain back here alone?” Nochez said.
“Yes. Sorry,” Ivy replied. “That way when we do arrive at Flipside BOP, I can tell Bloom you were quarantined and monitored and showed no symptoms.”
“He will still have all of you quarantined,” Nochez said.
“Standard protocol,” Ivy said. “But none of us are showing symptoms, so it should be an easy couple of days to get through.”
“Are we making any progress?” Nochez asked. “Are we getting closer to Flipside BOP?”
Cosio barked an irritated laugh, but didn’t say anything. Ivy ignored her outburst.
“No sign of the base yet, but we’ll find it,” Ivy said.
There was a loud clanging from up top and Ivy turned her attention from the hatch to her side window. She rolled it down and stuck her head out so she could look up. DeLuca was leaning over, pointing backward.
“Storm! Big fucker!” DeLuca said then was gone from Ivy’s sight.
Ivy shifted her focus from up top to back and frowned at the storm that was on their tail. Of course it was…
She pulled her head back inside the cab and faced forward.
“Next sign of anything that even remotely looks like a place to shelter, we stop,” Ivy said.
“You see the same plains I do,” Cosio said.
“Yes, but we’ve passed quite a few rock outcroppings jutting out from some the small hills,” Ivy said. “Almost drove right over one yesterday. Look for one of those we can put our backs against.”
Cosio checked the side mirror, its glass darkened by the storm behind them.
“Might be able to outrun it,” Cosio said.
“Or it might pick up speed and overtake us,” Ivy said. “We look for somewhere to shelter.”
Cosio began to argue, but the side mirror reflected a spasm of electricity from within the storm and she closed her mouth.
“Yeah. Good idea,” she said.
They drove on.
***
“Alright,” Raff said. “Look at us.”
Two axles, with wheels attached, were settled in front of the Flipside speed roller’s sideways motor housing. The motor housing was wide open and Dr. Xipan was halfway inside, being the smallest of them all and able to squeeze in and get to the motor anchor bolts.
“Now what?” Raff asked.
“Platform,” Cash said. “We can use one of the benches from the hold.”
“Then?”
“Straps,” Cash said. “We wrap them around the motor and try to ease it out onto the platform.”
“Great,” Raff said and glanced up at the darkening sky. “Tomorrow.”
“We should keep working,” Cash said.
“Tre, buddy, we’ve been working all day without a break,” Raff said. “I’m hungry, my hands are blistered even with the gloves, and I think Dr. Xipan fell asleep in there.”
“I am not asleep,” Dr. Xipan protested. “But I am hungry.”
“Same here,” Haskins called from his perch.
“We set the platform, but do the straps and the moving in the morning,” Raff said.
“No,” Cash said, but continued before Raff could protest. “We leave the platform. We’ll need the bench for sleeping tonight.”
“Yes,” Raff said. “Less work is my friend.”
Dr. Xipan crawled out of the motor housing. “How are you in charge?”
“Oh, I’m not,” Raff said. “I abdicated to Cash hours ago.”
“Wonderful,” Dr. Xipan said and wiped her brow, smearing grease all across her face.
“You got some… Never mind,” Raff said. “Who wants chicken parm that tastes like beef stroganoff? Raise your hands.”
“Stroganoff?” Pytor asked as he sat on the bumper of the Russian speed roller. “I would love some.”
“It’s not really… Doesn’t matter,” Raff said. “I’ll get the packs.”
“I’ll get a fire going,” Cash said and walked to the driest spot between the two vehicles.
He made it three feet before his left exo-brace sparked then completely seized. Cash had almost forgotten about the exo-braces. They’d been behaving surprisingly well the past couple of days.
“Damnit,” he growled as he grabbed both sides of the exo-brace and tried to make it bend. It refused to budge. “Shit!”
“Here. Let me help,” Pytor said. The man got off the bumper and walked over to Cash, his eyes studying the exo-brace. “Electric servos?”
“Yeah,” Cash said. “We crashed when we came back to Flipside and they’ve been wonky ever since.”
“Wonky?” Pytor asked.
“Glitching. Malfunctioning,” Cash explained.
“Ah. Wonky,” Pytor said and nodded.
He crouched by Cash’s knee then held up a hand. “A screwdriver?”
“Sure,” Cash said and pulled one from his belt. “This work?”
“That will work,” Pytor said and took the screwdriver. “Stand still, please.”
“You’re not going to take it off, are you?” Cash said. “Because I’ll need to sit for that. My knees are basically nonexistent. They’re mush.”
“Why not get replacement knees?” Pytor asked as he took off a metal plate on the side of the exo-brace.
“Allergic,” Cash said. “My body rejects any cybernetic replacements.”
“No, I mean a mechanical replacement,” Pytor said. He made a motion with both hands of something locking together. “Ball and joint.”
“That’s not how knees work,” Cash said. “They are floating joints.”
“Your knees do not work,” Pytor said. “So anything would be better than, what you say? Mush?”
“True,” Cash said. “But my orthopedist said that would mean no running. Which would mean no working. I needed knees that could run so I could work. Exo-braces were the answer.”
“And electronic servos are the problem,” Pytor said as he got back to work and popped out a small box from inside the open plate. “We’ll remedy that shortly.”
“Whoa,” Barbara said. “What’s going on here?”
“Brace shorted out,” Cash said, trying to be patient as Pytor worked on his knee.
Barbara dropped two wooden boxes by Cash. “Raff said you were setting up the campfire. I’ll get two more boxes then do it for you.”
“Thanks,” Cash said. “I appreciate it.”
Cash’s arm whipped out and he grabbed Barbara by the elbow before she could turn around. He pulled her in and kissed her hard.
“Really,” he said. “Thanks. Sorry I haven’t said that more.”
“You, mister, just got points for that,” Barbara said.
She kissed him back then disengaged and walked off, their arms stretching between them until only their fingertips touched and fell away.
“Oh. I did not know you two were together,” Pytor said, opening a second plate on the other side of the exo-brace.
“We are,” Cash said. “And I was neglecting that.”
“She seems understanding,” Pytor said.
“She is,” Cash said. “But everyone has their limits. I already have one ex back at Flipside BOP; I don’t need a second one.”
“There we go,” Pytor said and tossed another small box into the wet dirt. Most of the mud had dried, but the ground was still very wet. “Give it a try.”
Cash bent his knee back and forth and smiled. “It’s tough. Takes some strength, but it moves.”
He took a few steps and grinned.
“And it doesn’t seize and hasn’t collapsed under my weight. Thanks, Pytor.”
“Having you mobile is best for all of us,” Pytor said. “Let’s work on the other knee.”
“Great.”
By the time Pytor was finished, Barbara had a fire going and Raff was handing out steaming pouches of chicken parm that tasted like beef stroganoff.
“This is not stroganoff,” Pytor announced.
“It is if you tilt your head to the left and squint,” Raff said. He took a bite, tilted his head to the left, and squinted. “Mmmm, beefy.”
Then he coughed hard and winced.
“The beef fought back,” Raff said.
The sun set quickly and the group was plunged into darkness except for the small campfire. They ate in silence then Raff picked up the empty pouches, disposed of them in the Flipside roller, and brought back a bottle.
“We deserve this after a hard day’s work,” Raff said, holding up the bottle of beer. “We should each get a couple sips off this.”
“Raff, wait a second,” Barbara said as Raff popped the cork.
Beer geysered out into his face.
“Or I’ll get all of it,” Raff said as he licked his lips then wiped his face off, licking his hand. “Mmm, yeasty.”
“Anything left in there?” Cash asked.
Raff put his eye to the bottle’s opening and frowned.
“Uh…no,” he said. “Sorry about that. You guys can lick me, if you want.”
“My superiors used to talk about the amazing strides the Americans had made Flipside,” Dr. Xipan said. “I can now see those were all lies told only to make us work harder for China.”
“Superiors, man,” Raff said. “Who needs ‘em, right?”
He sat back down and held out the empty bottle.
“You can sniff it,” he said.
“We can all smell it on you from here,” Barbara said. “But thanks.”
“Rock, paper, scissors for first watch?” Haskins asked. “Or I can volunteer for first watch?”
“You’re off rotation,” Cash said. “That way you can get some sleep. Gonna need you on watch all day tomorrow.”
“I like your thinking, Cash,” Haskins said. “Which roller?”
“You can bunk with me and Yvgeny,” Pytor said.
“Perfect,” Haskins said. “Gonna piss then I’m off to bed.”
“Should we take him some food?” Barbara asked.
“Haskins just ate,” Raff said.
“Yvgeny,” Barbara said and slugged him in the arm.
“I will shortly,” Pytor said. “I hate to wake him up.”
A far-off call echoed in the night. The group froze and listened, but the call didn’t repeat itself.
“Hey…guys?” Haskins called.
“We heard it,” Raff said.
“Uh, no, not that,” Haskins replied. “It’s Yvgeny.”
Pytor jumped to his feet and rushed inside the Russian roller. Everyone followed behind quickly.
“What’s up?” Cash asked Haskins.
“Pretty sure he’s dead,” Haskins said, his hand to his nose. “Unless he pissed and shit himself because he couldn’t get up.”
Pytor climbed out of the roller, his face drawn.
“No, he is dead,” Pytor said. “Poor Yvgeny. I told him I would get him home, but now that is a lie.”
“It wasn’t a lie if you meant it,” Barbara said, squeezing his arm. “It’s just this place is hard on promises.”
“Help me get him out,” Cash said. “We’ll bury him and clean up. Not to be crass, but there’s more sleeping room in this roller now.”
“If you do not want to be crass, then do not make statements like that,” Dr. Xipan said.
“I understand what Cash means,” Pytor said. “We are soldiers and death is part of our job. We must always be practical in the face of death or none of us will survive.”
“Well said,” Raff said. “You Russians should think about getting into literature.”
“Russians have—”
Raff held up a hand before Pytor could finish.
“I was kidding,” Raff said and glanced inside the roller. “And I now see that was a bad idea. I’m the crass one here.”
“Come on,” Cash said. “We have a grave to dig and a body to bury. Best get started now.”
Ten
“A week and you have nothing?” Bloom asked. He stood facing Thompson, Tressa, and Mike as they sat at a table in a hut they commandeered for their AI project. “Absolutely nothing?”
“I wouldn’t say nothing, Bloom,” Thompson replied. “We have the beginnings of a framework.”
“The beginnings of a framework…” Bloom echoed. “Which means?”
“We have nothing,” Tressa said to her father’s ire. He glared then turned to look in the opposite direction. “Not that we haven’t been working hard.”
“Night and day, dude,” Mike said and yawned. “But it’s not like we’re in Silicon Valley with all the processing power we can dream of. Our tech is limited and questionable. It’s going to take a while before we can get this done.”
“How much of a while?” Bloom asked.
“Don’t worry about that,” Thompson said. “We’ll get it done.”
Bloom ignored the man and focused on Tressa.
“How much of a while?” he repeated.
“Months,” Tressa admitted.
“Possibly over a year?” Mike added.
“We do not have months,” Bloom said. “We do not have possibly over a year.”
“We do not have resources,” Thompson snapped. “When I first created Brain—”
Tressa snorted.
“—I had all of Topside Industries at my disposal,” Thompson finished.
“And a daughter to steal from,” Tressa said.
“Thompsons, come on,” Mike said and gave Bloom a pleading look. “This hasn’t been helping.”
“Perhaps we should run two separate projects,” Bloom said. “Split you two up and have Mike be the connecting factor. Would that help?”
“Yes,” Mike said.
“No,” Tressa and Thompson said.
“He doesn’t fully understand the programming,” Tressa said.
“And she doesn’t fully understand the engineering,” Thompson said.
“I understand the engineering fine,” Tressa said.
“And I understand the programming,” Thompson said.
“Then you both should be further along than you are,” Bloom said. “Especially since you two have done this before!”
Bloom got control of his anger and rolled his head on his neck, cracking the vertebrae loud enough to make Mike jump.
“That can’t be good for you,” Mike said.
“What is not good for me, Mr. DiCenzo,” Bloom said, “is a total lack of progress. While Ms. Herndon
has taken to her new role quite well, I would prefer to have you, Ms. Thompson, by my side instead if this project does not look like it will bear fruit.”
“It’ll bear fruit, commander,” Tressa said. “But bearing fruit takes time. And we need time.”
“Sir!” an operator shouted as he burst into the hut. “Sir! We have incoming!”
“Then deal with it,” Bloom said. “The operators on duty are more than capable of handling any pack of teeth or flock of wingers heading our way.”
“No, sir, it’s not dinos,” the operator said. “Russians.”
Everyone scrambled from the hut. Bloom’s finger was to his ear and he was shouting into the comms.
“I want a sitrep now!” he yelled.
“Looks like four squads, sir. Headed toward the main gate,” a voice replied. “Six rollers per squad. About fifteen clicks out. Single file formation and moving at us fast.”
“Twenty-four rollers,” Bloom said. “With a dozen operators per roller, to be sure. What else?”
“That’s it, sir,” the voice said.
“That’s it? Twenty-four rollers? No crawlers? No combots?” Bloom asked as he continued running toward the main gate. “Have we tried raising them on comms?”
“We have, sir,” the voice said. “No response.”
There was hesitation in the voice and Bloom heard it. “But…”
“But I’m not surprised, sir,” the voice said. “The rollers look banged up. A few of them are belching smoke.”
“Belching smoke?” Bloom asked. “Never mind. I’m here. I’ll see for myself.”
Bloom reached the main gate and climbed a ladder up to the walkway that ringed the entire wall.
“Binocs,” Bloom ordered when he was standing at the top of the wall.
Tressa, Thompson, and Mike joined him, as well as a few operators that had also been racing toward the main gate.
Someone handed Bloom a pair of binoculars. He put them to his eyes and studied the incoming rollers.
Definitely Russian markings. And the operator on comms had not been wrong about the state of the vehicles. Half of them looked like they were being held together by duct tape. Bloom studied them for a couple more minutes then lowered the binoculars and shook his head.
“That’s not black smoke,” he said. “That’s exhaust.”
“Exhaust?” Thompson exclaimed. “Give me those.”