by Devon C Ford
“Of course, David, although I will be running at sub-optimal processing speeds,” she replied in a voice that sounded businesslike and helpful.
“Faster than me though, right?”
“Significantly,” she answered with a hint of goading.
I smiled as I imagined my creation putting on her game face and paused with my eyes closed for a few seconds working through in my mind what I needed to do before letting my fingers do the talking as they danced over the keys.
This was my world, and I was good at it. Everything around me shrunk into the background as my full attention went into the small screen in front of me.
I didn’t hear Hendricks ask the two engineers, for want of something constructive to do, to inspect the tunnel to see how safe it was and get Geiger to accompany them. I didn’t pay any attention to Amir as he continually paced the room shooting impatient glances in my direction. The conversation between Harrison, Tori and the rest of the group as they learnt more about each other didn’t penetrate through the shield of concentration I threw up around myself as I worked. This was how I used to get when I found myself working twenty-four straight hours without food or even any awareness of how much time passed. It was why Weatherby had been so concerned by the possibility of me burning out and introduced Cat to my life, giving me a reason to look up from my work and realize there was a world out there beyond the flickering screens.
Knight called back from the tunnel, snatching my attention away as my fingers paused over the keys. Something about his tone made me freeze, penetrating my concentration, and so many things happened at once that I had to piece it together afterwards in my head.
A cry, cut short by a meaty thwack, was answered by three bursts of gunfire coming from outside the door behind me.
Chapter 14
A Shot in The Dark
“What the hell?” I shouted at the sudden burst of gunfire. My fingers, now shaking with fear, resuming their fast dance to get access to the door systems. I was ignored, mainly because whatever was happening out there wasn’t exactly my ballpark, as Hendricks surged past me shouting to Geiger to form on him.
“Get that outer door ready to shut,” he called back to me.
“Annie?” I asked, hopeful that she would be quicker at getting it done than I would be working it by hand. Both of them answered at once which drowned out any useful response from the real Annie I was asking.
“Hhhhow c-can I help?” Charlie Annie said in a distorted voice through the speakers.
“Standing by,” my Annie said in a lower, faster, and more human voice, “I have access now. Hendricks, pull back inside the bunker.” Hendricks didn’t answer, unless I counted the staccato chattering of his gun joining Geiger and now Stevens. Jones, the British guy so quiet I hardly knew he was there half the time, stood beside my workstation and lifted his gun to the door.
“Coming in,” Hendricks yelled, making me glance over my left shoulder to see him dragging the engineer by the handle on the back of his vest. Something that looked like a stick was protruding out of his neck, and he was grunting and cursing so loudly that his voice carried over the noise of the one-sided gunfight. Whooshing noises sounded behind me, with answering noises on the far side of the antechamber like stones hitting a brick wall.
“Arrows,” I said out loud in shock when I realized what had made the noise, “god damned arrows?”
“Close the door,” Hendricks called out, “now!”
“Door closing,” Annie said simply, as a rumbling noise sounded. The heavy door to the tunnel began to roll shut far too slowly for my liking. The rest of them shot through the gap, Geiger pitching backwards with a, “Goddammit,” of pain as a wild, ululating battle cry filled the chamber.
Rolling over the falling figure of the downed solider, a big warrior dressed in rags under a heavy fur burst into the room. He hefted an axe the likes of which I’d never seen in real life outside of a Mad Max movie. The wide, curved blade scythed through the air with a hiss full of deadly promise. He aimed the blow at Hendricks who, falling off balance to avoid it, tripped over Geiger. I watched in horrified slow-motion as his hands fell away from the rifle and reached for the sidearm holstered on the front of his vest. Even from my position ten paces away I knew he wasn’t going to draw it in time and my mouth began to fall open.
Harrison didn’t seem to be affected by the sudden slow passage of time, stepping into my view with both hands whirling the blades drawn over his shoulders. They hissed together, his arms crossing in a practiced move that, if I’d tried it, would have probably cut my own arm off. The machetes opened up the warrior’s lower back, making him abandon the killing stroke and arch like he’d been electrocuted, before the blades hissed back again and the arm holding the axe fell limply to his side, his weapon clattering harmlessly to the ground. Harrison stepped around him lithely, somehow anticipating the wild swing of his undamaged arm and ducking under it to rise up and skewer him in the abdomen. The two men locked eyes for a moment before the attacker jerked like an animal caught in a trap.
“Goddamn!” Geiger cursed again, providing relief that he wasn’t dead. He got to his feet and tried to look behind himself at the arrow protruding from his body armor. Swinging around he caught Stevens with the feathered end, who was kneeling by the closing gap firing controlled bursts at the horde of warriors ineffectually but bravely trying to defy the barrage of lead. The arrow knocked him off balance, disturbing his aim briefly, allowing two more warriors to scramble over their dead comrades filling the gap. Screaming their battle cries they ran forwards, straight toward the first person they saw, Harrison. He spun to face the new threat, raising his blades and altering his stance to prepare himself to face what looked to be insurmountable odds.
Tori, who had her own weapon drawn but was the other side of the room, began to run, desperately trying to reach him as she too could see he couldn’t hope to fight two of them at once.
Hendricks, who’d recovered and regained his knees, fired two bursts making both warriors spin head over heels as the bullets hitting their chests caused their upper bodies to pivot backwards whilst their impetus carried them forwards. They both slid to a stop inches from Harrison who calmly turned his head to Hendricks and nodded his thanks.
Annie’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “David, signal red…cing. Con…ct transm…ter. Ta...aka wris...and ted…”
And then nothing, as the heavy steel door closed fully.
Stevens turned to Knight, the engineer who Hendricks had dragged through the door and instantly forgot as he had other pressing matters to attend to. An arrow had gone through his neck and he lay on the floor holding both hands to it, ineffectually trying to stop his lifeblood pouring from the wound. He was making weak gurgling sounds as his throat filled with blood and his body tried to expel it as he lay drowning. Geiger pulled an aid pack from his vest and knelt beside him to look into his terrified, wide eyes.
I stood transfixed as both tried to use their battlefield medical skills to save his life. His legs slowed their jerking movements as more of his blood spread around him, creating what to me looked like a small lake of the oily, dark liquid.
How could a body hold so much? I thought as I watched his legs give a final jerk before laying still. Hendricks stared at the man for a few moments then symbolically closed his eyes before standing up slowly.
The sound of someone retching made me turn around. The soft meat and bones of the bodies that had piled in the entrance were no match for the heavy circular steel door as it rolled shut and fitted into its precisely manufactured frame. It had cleaved through them like a warm knife through butter, leaving a gory pile of arms, legs and half torsos lying in a spreading pool of blood.
Weatherby was bending over, hands on knees expelling the last of his breakfast over the floor. He eventually recovered and wiped his mouth across his sleeve, removing pieces of his breakfast that remained stuck to his chin. He glanced around looking embarrassed that he was the only o
ne to show his horror in such a physical manner.
“Annie?” I called, my voice showing a hint of panic. Ignoring Charlie Annie’s stuttering reply I called again for the Annie I really needed to speak to. When she didn’t answer I felt a shocked moment of awareness. I was on my own. The voice that for decades had always been just a call away, ready to answer a question or do my bidding was unreachable. Blocked by thousands of tons and a hundred meters of rocks and soil.
I stood stunned and for the first time unsure. I had relied on Annie, my own creation, that had become far greater that I could comprehend in her near thousand years of solitude, and now she was not there. Her last message confused me; the first bit I could understand, she was losing signal, but the last part was unintelligible. Staring at the screen I noticed the message icon flashing in the top corner and hope returned. The message could only be from Annie.
My fingers reached for the keyboard and I flicked my fingers deftly across the inbuilt touchpad and double clicked on the message.
Connection disrupted; I cannot help you until you connect the transmitter. The wristband belonging to the original Mister Tanaka was detected by the drones approaching the tunnel entrance as I lost voice communication capability with you. He will be able to open the door unless you restrict access. I had to reposition the drone from the cavern entrance so I doubt I will be able to reconnect with you even if the door is opened again. Good luck, David.
“Hendricks!” I called urgently. “Tanaka’s coming and Annie reckons he can open the door.” I began typing furiously at the keyboard.
“What do you need me to do?” he shouted across the room, turning away from the man he had tried to save.
“I need time to rewrite the subroutines and lock him out. Annie had to move the relay drone and so will not be able to help even if the door is reopened.”
“How long?” he asked sharply.
“I don’t know yet,” I snapped over my shoulder before looking back at the lines of code scrolling down the screen. “I need to find Kendall’s back door into my programming and without Annie helping I’m shooting blind. She’d found it but didn’t highlight where it was before we lost connection.”
“Why can’t she help?”
“Too far away now,” I told him. “She managed to send me a text message but now I’ve got nothing.”
Hendricks’ eyes bored into me, not that I had the time to exchange meaningful glances. Giving me a nod of acceptance, he turned to the others who had been following our conversation. “Right, we need to buy some time for Doctor Anderson. We’re going to get visitors soon, so I need everyone to build a barricade around the doorway and get ready to defend ourselves.” The soldiers nodded with acceptance and got straight to it, whereas Amir and the remaining engineer stood in static shock.
“Move it, you two!” Hendricks bellowed at them, ignoring any subtlety or politeness he may have included if the situation they were in was not so desperate.
I ignored the banging and scraping of heavy items being dragged into position as I turned back to the screen. If I had Annie, I could have asked her to locate the correct subroutine knowing it would save hours of searching. Should I try and connect Annie back into the system using Charlie Annie’s inbuilt transmitter? Did I even have the time to do that instead of searching for…
“Dumbass,” I blurted out, earning a confused look or two from people too busy to stop and ask what my problem was. I had something to search for, Kendall’s handwriting, and I just didn’t think to use it.
Cracking my knuckles once more I began typing a new program into my laptop and after few minutes, still inputting with one hand, I reached into the pack by my side and pulled out the small transmitter I had brought with me. “Mister Weatherby,” I called as I held it in one hand and continued typing with the other. Hearing no response but the banging of the barricade being built I shouted louder, “Amir!”
“Yes?” I heard the reply.
Not having the time or inclination for niceties I didn’t turn but held the transmitter higher in the air and commanded, “Take this as near to the door as the cable will allow and bring the connector back to me.”
When I felt it being pulled from my grasp, I returned my now free hand to the keyboard. I had to get the coding finished to allow my laptop to link to the transmitter, and my Annie, some time yesterday. Moments later my eye caught the connector on the end of the cable being laid next to my hand on the desk. Grabbing it, I dexterously inserted it into the correct port, taking it out and spinning it around because—of course—I’d tried to put it in the wrong damned way up. I was close, I knew it. A few lines was all it would take, and I could try to reestablish contact with Annie. My hastily written search program just needed to find the relevant line of code.
The unmistakable click of the locking mechanism on the door disengaging and the ominous, low rumble as it opened stopped me briefly and I glanced around.
Chapter 15
Comms Down
Hendricks was helping Jones lift the last item, an abandoned metal storage crate, into position on the barricade when the door clunked and slowly began to roll open.
Looking at what they had managed to build from the few items of furniture and empty storage cases they’d found, Hendricks knew it wasn’t good enough, but it was better than facing a horde of arrow-loosing, axe-wielding maniacs with nothing more than a strongly worded email of complaint.
Loosening the straps holding his spare magazines in place he checked, reloaded and charged his rifle and made sure his pistol was loose in its holster. Glancing at the others he could see his men doing the same. Weatherby and the surviving engineer were standing by the barricade looking scared to death as the volume of the screams from the men waiting to kill them increased the more the door opened. Hendricks saw the wild looks on their faces and knew he had to do something to get them in the fight because he needed everyone on the firing line.
Not having time to do it gently—the rolling circular door would unleash what he fully expected to be multiple levels of hell at them in seconds—he shouted in his most commanding voice, “Weatherby, Collins, weapons up!”
His bellow snapped them out of the trance they had fallen into and out of the corner of his eye he saw them raise their weapons and take a step toward the barricade. An arrow shot through the gap narrowly missing Hendricks’ head to clatter on the wall behind. Unable to pick out anything in the dark of the tunnel he fired a three-round burst through the widening gap but didn’t hear any screams of pain or other indication that his rounds had done anything.
As the opening widened more arrows flew in, either flying overhead or embedding themselves in the barricade, but in the darkness of the tunnel they couldn’t see anything of their attackers.
“Flashlights on,” Hendricks shouted. The powerful beams on his team’s weapons lit up immediately with Weatherby and Collins taking longer to locate the unfamiliar button. The beams stretched into the foreboding dark of the tunnel that still echoed with the shouts, screams and battle cries of what sounded like hundreds of warriors.
Hendricks ducked lower behind the barricade, trying to avoid the arrows, keeping his weapon aimed forwards. In frustration he fired a long burst into the darkness. He looked left at Stevens who was also keeping as low as he could.
Stevens gave him a look that summed up the situation before turning to peer into the darkness, finger on his trigger ready for action. Hendricks was still looking at him when an arrow hit him in the face, piercing his eyeball, the force of it making the arrow go through his skull and stick out the back of his head. As he fell backwards, killed instantly, his head flopped like a test dummy and his finger tightened on the trigger. His gun ejected a torrent of bullets, one striking Collins in the back of his head, blowing a mass of brains and blood all over Geiger.
In horror, Hendricks’ mind raced as he realized that in less than a second they had lost a quarter of their forces and everyone was now instinctively staring at the two bodies
rather than toward the darkness.
“Eyes front,” he screamed as the torrent of arrows suddenly ceased and his flashlight caught movement at the limit of its beam. “They’re coming,” he said, letting rip a full magazine as he poured out his shock and hate and regret into their attack.
The tunnel, lit by the wavering beams of light, filled with a solid mass of leather and fur-clad warriors sprinting toward them, all screaming their battle cry. He deftly replaced the magazine and clicked his selector to full auto with his thumb to fire again.
They kept coming, jumping over the falling bodies getting closer with every stride. His gun clicked empty and he hit the magazine release button, letting it clatter to the floor and in seconds rammed another home, charging the weapon in one swift movement without the barrel wavering away from the enemy who had reached the door and begun tearing at the barricade. For every one they shot another two leaped over them. One man hurled himself at the barricade, throwing his axe just before four bullets fired from Jones’ gun turned his head into a rapidly expanding cloud of blood, bone and viscera.
Hendricks’ gun clicked dry a third time as he emptied it in controlled bursts at another wildly charging figure. Letting it drop on its sling, he drew his pistol and continued firing until the crazed attacker slumped dead on the barricade, inches from his position. Holstering the sidearm and snatching up the short rifle from its dangling position on the sling, he dropped out the spent magazine and replaced it with fast, practiced hands.
Harrison and Tori both began bounding forwards, thrusting their weapons at any part of an enemy that reached the barrier. The bodies piled up, but still they came.