The Human Forged

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Seventeen

  Nick’s muscles hurt. His back felt no better than it had in the morning and his stomach tied itself in knots as it growled for more sustenance. He wanted to lie down in One-Ninety’s bed and let sleep overtake him, but that could be a perilous decision.

  The guards’ and keepers’ glances and their comments toward him throughout the day had left him riddled with paranoia. If they approached him about his poor performance, maybe he could blame it on an infection or the lingering pain from the wounds across his back. Still, he didn’t expect mercy from them and he’d need to know how to say the words in Danish.

  They might’ve been temporarily fooled by finding “Nick’s” electrocuted body the night before, but even a cursory autopsy might reveal the actual cause of death as strangulation. His inability to blend in with his clones would be the final nail in his coffin. He had done it himself, every decision, every failure. He could blame no one else. Hell, he wouldn’t even have been here if he had stayed faithful to Kelsey and hadn’t bothered with so much as dancing with that damn woman in Estonia. He had been weak and stupid to trust her.

  A wry smile formed as he shook his head. His legs dangled over the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. This would be a terrific tale to impart good morals. That is, if he could tell his story to anyone outside of a tent full of clones.

  Refraining from lying down, he massaged his feet and calves. He breathed deep and stood. Stretching out before his muscles could cramp again, he limped toward James. After the run, Nick had managed to injure his knee and each time he put his weight on his left leg, the joint ached in miserable waves of pain. His knee had always been weak, even when he ran marathons for unenhanced individuals back in the States before he had joined the army. After enlisting and receiving his enhancements, his knee had felt no better after long runs. The increased levels of endorphins his altered genes produced only slightly assuaged the aching joint.

  He leaned into James’s ear. “We need to get the hell out of here tonight.”

  “Tonight? You have a plan?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why don’t we use tonight for recon, see if we can’t figure out if and how the others in my batch might’ve escaped before?”

  “We don’t have time for recon. We need to get out tonight. Surely you’ve got to know a way we can shut down the power to the fences or unlock the gates. Something, anything you might’ve seen before.”

  James folded his arms and laughed. “You think I would still be here if I could come up with even the faintest idea of how to escape? Hell, I would be gone already and wouldn’t have been here to save your ass when you stumbled in last night. You’d probably be dead.”

  “I’m going to be dead soon if we don’t leave.”

  His lips pressed tight, James scowled. “I don’t think you understand me. I do not know of a good way out. I have no ideas. There’s only two ways I can come up with.” He held up his index finger. “One: we get bought and sent away. That plan has been nixed.” He held up his middle finger alongside his index finger. “Two: we fight our way out of here.”

  “Okay, let’s do that.”

  Leaning backward, his face broke in a wild grin. “You really are mad. Are all Originals as crazy as you? Do they have to purposefully design the logic into us? We don’t have any options other than to wait this out.”

  “I can’t wait.” Nick prodded James’s chest. “You talk about escape, about ridding yourself of your oppressors. Don’t you think we can do that?”

  James’s eyes widened. “Sounds like you want to start a riot.”

  “A rebellion. An uprising.”

  “All so you can escape.” He tilted his head to indicate the other clones in the tent. “I told you already that none of the other clones have the fortitude to do anything that brazen. Even if they did, have you thought about how many lives would be lost in that effort? All so you can get back to your little sweetheart.”

  “It’s not about that.” Nick’s face grew hot. “You complain about the injustices here, the atrocious way everyone’s treated, and just laugh it off, like fighting back isn’t a real option.”

  “That’s a ridiculous idea, though. We have no access to any weapons. We would be slaughtered. Besides, you would never get these others on board. I told you—we’re different from them.”

  “No, you’re right. I want out and revolting is ridiculous.” His upper lip twitched in anger. “But I think the truth is that you’re afraid to leave. It’s miserable, it’s fucked up, but it’s all you know and you’re scared that leaving this place is going to be worse than staying here.” He clapped James’s shoulder. “I’ve got news for you: the world outside here is a messed up place, but it can also be a hell of a lot better than this shithole prison camp.”

  Nick stomped off as best as he could with a hobbling limp and slumped back down onto his bed. The chatter of the ever-exuberant and ironically cheerful young clones infuriated him. He wanted to yell out, to ask them how they could be happy here, how they could allow themselves to be treated in such a disgusting and vile way.

  Instead, he pressed his palms into his closed eyes and turned his thoughts toward escape. If James wouldn’t help him, if the man didn’t want to escape, Nick wouldn’t bother him. He would find a way out on his own tonight. Maybe he could steal an extra pair of the rubber-soled boots in the uniform storage containers. They might protect his hands so he could scale the fence unscathed without electrocuting himself. Then, if that ridiculous stunt worked, he would have to jump twenty feet to the ground. If he didn’t break an ankle or destroy his arm, he expected at least a fractured wrist. His knee was already sore enough, too. No need to totally destroy it. And running through a jungle at night without any idea of where he was wouldn’t be beneficial to his survival.

  A keeper strode down the aisle, his jaw set and his lips drawn tight. He led two guards, each cradling an assault rifle as clones scuttled out of their way. The keeper stopped in front of Nick. A curt order escaped his lips and Nick stood at attention, not knowing what else to do.

  The man questioned Nick.

  He opened and closed his mouth, fear and confusion muddling his thoughts. He froze. He knew he couldn’t outwit them and he could not answer without revealing his linguistic ignorance.

  The keeper made another demand, to which Nick dumbly nodded.

  His eyes narrowing, the keeper exhaled, his chest falling. Pinching the left side of Nick’s gray shirt, the keeper wrinkled it between his fingers and dropped it. He traced the numbers printed on it. His eyes fell on Nick’s wrist and widened.

  The keeper twisted Nick’s arm and yanked up the shirt sleeve. He prodded at the small scar left from the Chip excision. A glimmer of recognition shone in his eyes as he spoke in accented English. “You are not actually one of them, are you?” He motioned around the room.

  “I am.”

  The keeper withdrew his gun. The eyes of the other clones, all standing like statues, fell on him.

  He couldn’t bear to be put back in the induced coma, buried away, never to be awoken again. No hope for escape resided there. He would be as good as dead.

  “There is no need to lie,” the keeper said. “You are Nicholas Corrigan. The escaped Original.” His face contorted in anger. “Down on your knees, now!”

  The hushed but audible murmurs between a few of the clones accompanied the nervous pulse beating in Nick’s ears. He gulped and sank to his knees. The keeper trained his pistol on Nick’s chest and gestured to the guards.

  As one of the guards leaned in to grab his shoulders, he sprung forward. He ducked to avoid any potential gunfire from the keeper. Twisting behind the guard, Nick threw an arm around the man’s neck. The guard dropped his rifle and lashed out with the other. The second guard stood, apparently unsure of whether or not he should shoot, as Nick used the guard as a shield.

  Nick backed away, trying to put distance between himself and the guard and keeper.

  Reaching
into his hip holster, the keeper pulled out a handgun and took aim. The keeper fired. The first shot missed and ripped through the canvas of the tent. The second shot slammed into the guard’s chest and ended the man’s struggles.

  Before the keeper could aim for a third shot, James twisted the man’s head from behind. The keeper’s neck snapped with an audible crack. The guard next to him swiveled around right as James fired into the man’s belly with the keeper’s pistol.

  Dropping the guard’s limp body, Nick took a step toward James. He tucked the pistol into his pants, bent down to retrieve the two assault rifles, and tossed one of them to Nick.

  Nodding his thanks, he caught it. The rest of the clones stayed frozen, silent and watching. He licked his lips, cracked and bleeding from the guard’s flailing limbs. “What do we do now?”

  James scanned the room. “I think your plan sounds like our best option right about now.”

  Eighteen

  Sara knocked on the open door to McCuller’s office.

  “Come in,” he said, gesturing for her to have a seat. He perused illegible texts projected on his holodisplay and didn’t bother to make eye contact. “I don’t know why you always insist on knocking. When the door’s open, you can just come on in.”

  “I know, I know. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  McCuller raised a dark eyebrow. “Suit yourself. You do realize I don’t need you to physically come by to submit your report, either, right?”

  “I’m not here about the report. There’s something else I want to talk about.”

  He sighed. “What’s going on?”

  “I noticed something strange about the attack.”

  “Is the CRM employing a new bio-weapon? I didn’t think the feeds were on long enough to detect any foreign agents in our soldiers’ bloodstreams or tissues.”

  She waved away the suggestion. “No, no. I didn’t see anything like that.”

  “What, then?”

  For a moment, she furrowed her brow and traced her tongue along the inside of her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to continue, knowing that her inquiries did not relate to her assigned task in the analysis. “I noticed that the attacker matched up with a former Army Exo-Specialist named Joseph Robert Steinweg.”

  “Yes.” McCuller frowned.

  “I’m not sure if you already know this or if someone else is looking into this, but Steinweg reportedly went missing about three years ago somewhere in Buenos Aires. His Chip went off grid, either destroyed or deactivated. Then he shows up and overpowers a highly trained soldier in an Exo.”

  “Sounds about right.” McCuller appeared unimpressed, which confused her.

  “This doesn’t ring any alarm bells for you?”

  McCuller shrugged. His eyes expressed little concern, already tracing back over the words on his holodisplay. “No, I’m not surprised. The guy leaves his post with the army, joins up with a fringe mercenary group that pays shitloads of money. I mean, what better way to take down a squad of Exos than a soldier who knows their tactics?”

  She was still nonplussed. “You don’t think it’s strange at all? This guy shows no signs of dissent, no desire to betray his own nation, much less units he fought beside before his army contract ended. It doesn’t add up.”

  “The money does add up, though. Not everyone’s a patriot like you, Monahan. Sometimes a few extra universal credits go a long way toward convincing someone to forget what country they were born in.” He leaned back in his chair and appealed to her with his bulky arms outstretched. “This kind of thing happens quite frequently. It’s why we’re around to keep tabs on them, you know? But, here’s the key: it’s not your job. We’ve got other guys and gals to do that. You don’t need to let it worry you. They’re the ones in charge of taking care of these treasonous bastards and they do a damned good job at it. Okay? Please, just focus on the bio-tech data. That’s what you’re here for and I don’t want you to get distracted by things like this.”

  “But—”

  “It’s taken care of, Monahan.”

  “Okay, okay.” She fidgeted in her seat, trying to repress the multitudes of questions swirling in her mind, the demands dancing on the tip of her tongue. “Just one more. You said this happens frequently. Are you telling me there are other people who go off-grid and join up with the Resistance Movement?”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s not just the CRM, either. We’ve caught our off-grid guys in other places, too. Found a couple fools messing around in Laos during the military coup. A few joined the cartels in Brazil.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “In any case, thanks for pointing it out, but I’ve already got guys on the ground after him. You’re right to assume that we want to take care of these guys as soon as possible, but again, it’s not your job.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, brushing back the hair that had fallen out of place again. She thought of more questions, her curiosity piqued by McCuller’s dismissal of these strange occurrences. But she would get no further by interrogating him.

  He seemed to sense her frustration. “Like I said, you don’t worry about a thing. We’ve got people keeping their eye out on deserters and treason artists like that. They act quickly and quietly.” McCuller gestured on the holodisplay. He sifted through a projection. “In fact, it seems like this Steinweg guy has already been picked up.”

  Again, she nodded and got up to leave, pushing her chair back in place.

  McCuller exhaled. “Monahan, wait.”

  She spun around.

  “I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not going to let this go. I don’t want you to lose time worrying about something that’s out of your hands, so I’ll forward two of those reports within your security clearance for you to review. You’ll see that it’s unfortunately not that uncommon of an event and that our people do eliminate those targets that betray us very effectively.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “That’ll ease my mind.”

  In truth, she knew that wouldn’t satisfy her at all. She sensed a greater mystery hidden beneath McCuller’s explanations. His claims seemed too simple. While McCuller had wanted to keep her from getting distracted by this case, he probably did not realize that his explanations had only stoked the spark of her interest.

  Nineteen

  Nick looked around at the clones in the barracks. None of them said a word as he fiddled with the rifle in his arms. It seemed the death of the keeper and guards had shocked them. Or maybe the mere act of rebellion had amazed them.

  “Do we say something or do we just get the hell out of here?”

  James appeared unusually diffident. His brow scrunched together in thought for several silent moments. At last, he spread his arms wide, one hand clutching the rifle, and addressed the wide-eyed men. “We deserve freedom. We deserve to walk outside of these fences and pursue a normal life just like any other human.” He pointed at Nick with a thumb. “We’re leaving. We’re going to claw our way out of this cage. There’s an entire world out there waiting for us where we can do whatever the hell we want without these assholes waiting to kill us at their pleasure.”

  A couple of older clones nodded in agreement, their expressions serious and angry. The younger clones mostly appeared confused, tilting their heads and frowning at James’s words.

  “You can stay or you can go. The choice is yours.” He held up a single finger on his free hand. “For the first time, the choice is yours.”

  One of the older clones called out. “You want us to die with you? We stand no chance against the guards and keepers.”

  Another bobbed his head in agreement. “Following you outside is going to get us all killed. If we turn you two over now, we can prevent that.”

  Murmurs of agreement resounded around the barracks. A few clones moved forward. Nick gripped his rifle tighter and took a step back.

  “Look,” James said, his voice stern and fierce. “You can leave on your own accord or you can wait for them to sell you into slavery elsewhere.”

>   Expressions of skepticism met his words.

  Nick felt sick but added nothing. He hadn’t been around these men enough to know what might inspire them or move them. His fingers twitched on the stock of the gun, tapping away as he tried to gauge the mood of the audience. He expected them to jump to their feet, to cheer or yell. He wanted them to be furious, to transform into a ravenous pack of wild dogs ready to tear the limbs off anyone who stepped in their way.

  “I don’t care what you think, but we’re leaving,” James said. “This is your chance to escape with us.”

  They didn’t move. A scowl across his face, an older clone shook his head. “Fine. You leave and get yourself killed if that’s what you want. You’ll be outnumbered and outgunned.”

  James had been right; he was far different than the others Nick had bunked with for a night. They might have trained doggedly, showing aggressive perseverance and aptitude in marksmanship and hand-to-hand combat training. But James’s evaluation of their obedience and fear of their captors had been accurate.

  As much as they despised their living conditions, their indentured servitude, and the men who created, bred, and imprisoned them, the clones could not muster the courage to fight against it, to escape.

  These others would be of no help.

  Nick indicated the exit with a slight nod. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Agreed.”

  James peered out the exit and disappeared through the canvas doors. Nick followed, dodging to the right as they clung to the side of the barracks. The sun had disappeared behind the looming trees. Crimson and orange bled into the deep purple and blue hues of the settling night sky. The remaining shreds of daylight allowed him to feel slightly less vulnerable than the night before. He would not have to rely on James’s implanted AR lenses to guide them through this part of their escape.