Vincent sighed. ‘There’s nothing inside and there’s no bridge. It’s all just fake news to keep the humans busy. You always need hope, don’t you, something to aim for or hang onto. Sorry to disappoint.’
‘I don’t believe you; you’re protecting something or someone. The only fake thing here is you and your buddy here.’
‘Well, that’s charming isn’t it? Just because we were made doesn’t mean you can’t hurt our feelings. Weren’t you made, Carl? Perhaps by some higher being in his image? Or are you the product of an accident, something that just happened out of all the chaos in this universe?’
Carl looked at the floor. ‘I don’t know what to believe any more.’
Vincent chambered another round using the bolt of his rifle. ‘Well, son, it’s time to start believing something because there’s no room for the two of us. Boohoo and all that. I met my maker and killed him. Now it’s time to meet yours.’
Carl looked up and closed his eyes. He’d tried his best but it wasn’t enough. Maybe Amy was waiting for him and he’d see her again. He’d give anything to hold her one more time. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.
Two shots rang out and echoed through the meadow and beyond.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Doctor Korsgen looked at the chamber that had been manufactured in just a few hours. The technical ability of the manufacturing plant was now second to none. Hardware was being produced within hours and software code written for it within minutes of completion. The chamber was small and oblong, but large enough for its intended task.
A technical assistant ran some final checks and nodded as the stream of data cascaded out of the printer. ‘Looks good, impressive even.’
‘I agree with that,’ Korsgen said, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses.
‘Where does it all stop though? Or doesn’t it? Seems like the requested hardware is now fast outpacing even our understanding.’
Korsgen nodded. ‘It ends when we reach our goals. No longer will successive generations need to pass minor gene alterations to each other. No more errors or dangerous mutations.’
The tech sat back in his chair. ‘But how advanced is advanced? What we’re proposing here could make the synths and humans inferior. Are we trying to create super synthetics or super humans?’
‘I don’t have all the answers,’ Korsgen said, scratching his chin. ‘I follow orders just like you do. This is an opportunity that many could never foresee. I resisted when I first heard about the idea, but it makes perfect sense now. We just never thought we’d get the chance to implement it but here we are.’
‘But you also know there are huge risks, Doctor?’
‘True, but you can’t change a civilisation without risk. Our vision is clear and so are our orders.’
The assistant technician powered up the chamber while Korsgen watched the data flow for anomalies.
‘It’s going to take a lot of juice, I hope the backup generators hold out,’ the tech said.
Korsgen glanced at the digital display. ‘Power isn’t an issue, a steady rate of power could be. Any fluctuation could be disastrous and create unwanted side effects.’
‘Such as?’
‘A partial merge that leads to physical and mental decline. It’s also possible that the host dies before we complete the procedure.’
The technician scratched his head. ‘What do you think are our chances of success?’
Korsgen paused and tapped his pen on the table. ‘Eighty-five per cent if the host was a little older. But currently sixty per cent at best. Anyway we’ll soon find out, it’s time to try.’
The tech nodded and picked up the phone. ‘Bring her in, please.’
Elsie cried as she was brought into the room by a young nurse. ‘She’s not liking our synthetic breast milk much, she’s still hungry.’
‘She’s beautiful.’ Korsgen said taking the tiny baby in his arms. ‘The first human child born for many years as far as we know.’
The doctor carefully placed Elsie in the small coffin-shaped chamber as the machine gave a hiss as the glass lid closed. ‘There you go, little girl, not long now and you’ll be reborn.’
‘Power’s holding steady, I hope we know what we’re doing, Doctor,’ the tech said.
Korsgen struggled to see through the glass lid as liquid poured into the chamber and a collection of small robotic arms got to work. ‘We know what the world needs and therefore I’m hopeful.’
A thud on the glass startled the doctor who stepped back for a moment before stepping forward for a closer look. A small metallic hand smeared blood on the inside of the glass lid.
‘What’s happening?’ the nurse asked.
Korsgen cleared his throat. ‘You’re witnessing a miracle, that’s what’s happening. You’re about to meet the world’s first cybernetic organism. Flesh perfectly interwoven with machine. We’ve created a new species.’
Chapter Forty
Carl crumpled onto the ground with his hands covering his head. His ears were ringing from the gunfire as he patted his body with one hand looking for blood or any signs he’d been shot. He looked at Archie, who now lay face down in the dirt. There was a hole in the side of his head and red liquid trickled out. He looked at Vincent, who was still standing but had dropped his weapon and was gripping his chest.
‘Well, this is an unexpected pickle,’ Vincent said, pulling his red hand away to reveal a hole in his chest.
Another shot hit Vincent in the head. His body first went rigid, and then fell backwards onto the ground star shaped.
Carl looked around as Janelle stepped out from the trees holding a short-barrelled assault rifle.
‘Good job someone’s watching your back,’ she said.
‘Janelle?’
She nodded. ‘I knew Vincent and his friend had left the town to try and track you down, so I decided to shadow them.’
Carl stood up. ‘OK…I mean, thank you. What’s happening back in the town?’
Janelle slung the rifle over her shoulder. ‘Complete chaos. Synthetics hunting down and killing any humans or old model droids. Half the town has burnt down. You can see the smoke for miles.’
‘Edmond and the others?’
‘I don’t know. We broke out of the prison. The commander and his men were killed as we made our way across open ground. The rest of us took cover but eventually we got split up. There was carnage everywhere.’
Carl nodded. ‘We need to see what’s inside there and what the hell Elias was on about. But I can’t see any bridge.’
Janelle took out a pair of field glasses and scanned the ridge of the crater, which rose above the trees. ‘I see movement but can’t tell if it’s them or just animals. We need to move fast. No doubt they’re tracking us and more will come soon.’
Carl pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside closely followed by Janelle. Banks of flat- screen computer monitors adorned the walls, interrupted by cables and conduits. Some screens displayed numeric data while others scrolled endless pages of documents. The room was dominated in the centre by a large optical telescope that pointed towards the high domed ceiling.
Janelle examined one of the monitors. ‘This place must still be used for something. It still has electricity to it and there’s a lot of data on these screens, but I just can’t see where it’s getting its power from.’
‘Solar panels maybe?’
Janelle shook her head. ‘Didn’t see any outside.’
‘Wait a sec,’ Carl said, pointing to a square hatch on the floor. ‘Maybe the power’s down there.’
Janelle took a closer look. ‘There’s a label that says “Bridge Station 7”. Maybe we’ve found the power source and your bridge?’
Carl and Janelle both gripped the handle and pulled. The hatch opened with a creak, revealing a steel ladder that descended into a basement.
The room was dimly lit. More wall-mounted computer screens displayed data, and a desk with a single chair sat in a corner. Above the desk
a sign said “The Conn”. On the other side of the room was a steel cage with bars from the floor to the ceiling. It was accessed by a single locked gate, behind which were two metallic posts that were about the height of a person. They jutted out of the floor and were as wide apart as they were tall. On the wall was a large lever in the off position.
Carl pulled at the gate. ‘It’s locked solid. We’re not getting through that in a hurry.’
Janelle struck the lock with the edge of her hand and the door swung open.
‘How’d you do that?’ Carl asked.
‘No idea, but I seem stronger since I woke up from my coma. Seem to be able to manipulate metal somehow. It’s how we escaped the prison,’ Janelle said, examining her hand.
‘That’s impressive. You’re every lock manufacturer’s nightmare.’
They both looked up at the hatch as the sound of distant voices grew louder.
Janelle took the rifle from her shoulder. ‘They’ve found us.’
Carl gripped the lever and looked at Janelle as she nodded. It took all of his strength to move it from off to on. As it engaged, a nearby generator burst into life and the two metal posts started to hum.
Auto sequence started, a computerised voice said. Bridge 7 is powering up.
Carl stood near to the two metallic posts as the hairs on his arms stood up. ‘Seems to be producing some kind of electromagnetic field.’
Beams of flickering light now started to pass between each post, joining them together with a wall of light. First the light was clear, and then multicoloured as the flickering got faster and faster.
Power is at 99%. Core is stable. Bridge 7 is open and will auto shut down in 60 seconds, the voice said.
Janelle saw movement near the hatch and fired a short burst as a grenade was tossed down and bounced off the ladder rungs before rolling along the floor. Carl and Janelle hit the deck as the bright white flash and loud bang temporarily stunned their senses. As a foot appeared at the top of the ladder Janelle fired another shot through the smoke.
Carl stood up and shook his head, his ears ringing from the explosion. He staggered towards the wall of light and glanced back at Janelle.
Bridge 7 will auto shutdown in 20 seconds.
She pointed her rifle at the hatch with one hand and waved Carl away with the other. ‘Go now. Walk between the posts, walk into the light wall!’ she shouted.
Bridge 7 will auto shutdown in 10 seconds.
Carl beckoned Janelle to follow but she shook her head.
‘It’s not a bridge, Carl, it’s a portal, a gateway, now hurry!’ Janelle said as another flash bang grenade tumbled into the room.
Carl put his arm in first, and then stepped in, walking into the light. The sound of an explosion and gunfire faded as he was engulfed in colour. His body felt hot, and then numb. Everything went quiet and then there was blackness and nothing.
Chapter Forty-One
The pain in the side of Carl’s ribs burned red hot as he reached round to try to put pressure on the wound, but all he came into contact with was cold concrete. His vision was dark and blurry and his hearing was muffled as the din increased slowly, filling his head with a hundred different noises. His head and side felt too painful to move and he quickly realised he was lying down on the floor, but his senses were far too scrambled to know exactly where.
As the cold breeze blew over him he realised he was outside. The noise was now deafening and his eyes slowly started to acclimatise to the surroundings. He moved his head a little and looked around. The alleyway was narrow and dim. Metallic garbage bins were lined up against the brick walls of tall buildings that seemed to stretch up and disappear into the cloudy blue sky. Small flying animals floated on the air currents as they shrieked overhead. One swooped down and landed near to Carl, its small beady eye trained on him as its sharp beak pecked at a discarded food wrapper. Carl had seen birds in books but never in real life, and he stared at the animal, watching how it hopped along on its thin legs as its feathers ruffled in the wind.
He tried to roll onto his front and with all his strength pushed himself up, managing to sit up facing towards the end of the alley. The exit was bright as the sunlight streamed in and he could see well-dressed people scurrying past and vehicles whizzing by.
‘Got a smoke?’ a gravelly voice said.
Carl looked round and noticed the pile of clothes in between two garbage bins was moving. A gaunt face emerged, eyes bulging out of sunken sockets, framed with wiry grey hair and a beard that was as long as a man’s arm.
‘I said, have you got a smoke? I’ll say please if it helps.’
‘No, I don’t, I’m sorry,’ Carl said, wrapping his arms around himself, partly to cradle his hurting ribs but also to try to shield himself from the icy wind now blowing through the alley.
‘Oh, OK,’ the man said.’ You don’t look like you have much. In fact you look like you have less than me,’ he said laughing, which was quickly interrupted by more coughing.
Carl looked down at his clothes. His town-issue footwear, trousers and cotton shirt looked inadequate for the season. He’d never felt such cold and he clearly wasn’t anywhere near Hope Point or the Dust Lands.
‘I have this old coat if you want it. Use it for sleeping on but you can borrow it if you want. Don’t want you catching a cold now, do we?’
Carl let out a cry as he got to his feet. His side and head pounded and he felt like he’d had too many Grogs back in the city. He took a few uneasy steps and bent down to pick up the garment.
The snarl and bite came almost immediately as the animal rushed out from under the pile of clothing and sunk its teeth into his hand. Carl flinched back and gripped his bleeding knuckle as the four- legged beast barked and stood its ground.
‘Paddy, get back, how many times have I told you?’ the old man said as he struck the animal over the bridge of its nose with a rolled-up newspaper. Paddy retreated and whimpered as he buried himself under some nearby rags. ‘I’m sorry about that, he’s just trying to protect me. This doesn’t hurt him, it just gives him a jolt when he forgets his manners,’ he said, looking at the tube of newspaper.
Carl sucked his knuckle to try to ease the stinging. ‘What is it?’
‘It is Paddy and Paddy is a Staffy.’
‘A Staffy?’
‘Yeah, you know, a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Brighter than many dogs, to be fair, but still needs to learn some manners.’
Carl bent down and took the coat. He put it on and placed his hands in the pockets, shrugging his shoulders to feel the fit of the garment. The smell of urine was overpowering, and it had clearly been something left outside and slept on for a long time, but it did provide some relief from the cold and he was grateful for that. ‘Thank you, but I don’t have anything to give you for it.’
‘Like I said, you can borrow it. Maybe when you’ve found your way you can return it. I’m always here. This is my home.’
‘Yes, OK, thanks again. Oh, just one question…you said this is your home. Where exactly are we?’
‘An alleyway just off the high street.’
‘OK, but…’
‘Can I help you, son?’ a voice interrupted.
Carl turned round to see a tall man, late thirties wearing some kind of uniform. He wore a hat and body armour with insignia on it, which he couldn’t quite read from where he stood.
‘No thank you, I was just leaving.’
‘Leaving to go where? I’ve been watching you for some time and, you know, being drunk and disorderly and drug dealing are both crimes in this city.’
Carl nodded his head as his heart started to pound in his chest. He felt trapped and confused. He didn’t know exactly where he was and who these people were. He looked past the man to see if there was room for him to escape, but he wasn’t sure if his shaky legs would carry him fast enough. The man was lean and strong-looking and would easily catch him, plus he was armed with some kind of pistol, holstered on a utility belt. As the man stepped c
loser Carl could read the word “Police” on his body armour.
‘And what are you doing down here, old man?’ the policeman asked.
The old man shrugged. ‘Waiting for the Queen to invite me round for a cuppa. She’s sending a Rolls Royce to pick me up in a bit.’
‘Comedian, aren’t we, as well as a tramp and drug dealer,’ the officer said, reaching down to examine a pile of plastic bags.
Paddy leapt from under the clothes. His ferocious barking made the officer stumble back as the dog sank his teeth into his lower leg, causing him to cry out in pain. The policeman drew his weapon and tried to strike the dog with it but Paddy was too quick and grabbed his wrist, causing him to cry out again and drop the gun.
Carl stared wide-eyed at the old man, who nodded towards the exit. ‘Run, son, while you can.’
Carl began with a quick walk, which turned into a jog, and as he found some energy he started to run. He reached the end of the alleyway and was blinded and disorientated by the bright sunlight and the amount of people and noise, stopping for a moment to shield his eyes. He turned left and tried to blend in with everyone else as they rushed about their business. He was walking quickly, glancing over his shoulder now and again to see if he was being followed. His throat was so dry he could hardly swallow; his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth each time he moved it. He needed to drink something soon. He stopped outside a small supermarket that had baskets of fruit and small bottles of water just inside the doorway. He reached in, grabbed a bottle and put it in his pocket.
‘Hey!’ the shopkeeper shouted.
Carl didn’t look back. He ran as fast as his aching legs would carry him, pushing through the crowds. He eventually slowed down and stopped near the entrance to a train station. He darted down the stairway and leapt over the ticket barrier. The water was refreshing, and he drank the whole bottle, losing half of it as it spilled down his chin and chest.
‘Move again and I’ll put a hole in you,’ the voice said. Carl looked up to see the policeman standing there, arm stretched out and a gun levelled at him. The officer’s wrist was bloody; it was the same officer from the alleyway. ‘Go on; give me the excuse to pull this trigger.’
Into the Dust Storm Page 16