by Geoff Palmer
Ludokrus and Tim scrambled under the rope and the five of them congregated at the next corner, ready to act as decoys as soon as the motorbike appeared.
The angry revving increased in pitch. They tensed like runners on their starting blocks. Suddenly the bike slithered round the bend above and gave an angry snarl as it surged towards them.
Tim, Coral and Alkemy sprinted down the track while Glad and Ludokrus dived into the undergrowth in different directions. The Emissary accelerated.
Five distinct points of light glowed in its sensors, each diverging. It accelerated more, noting the sluggish response from its damaged hand and arm. The targets were now prioritised in order of attack, with number one singled out as the Eltherian who’d wrecked his arm and ion gun.
Acquisition in 2.7 seconds, the tracker flashed.
The Emissary cranked the throttle wide open. Somewhere deep in its electro-mechanical heart it sensed that the extermination of that particular target would give it the most pleasure.
None of them saw the motorbike snag the rope, then cartwheel, flinging its rider off in a soaring arc, but they all heard the brief shriek of the bike’s engine as the wheels came off the ground, followed by a series of muffled crashes as it thudded to a halt. Only Ludokrus — who’d scrambled to the edge of the gravel pit — witnessed the Emissary land on the steep face of scree and tumble over and over before coming to rest far below at the edge of a rust-coloured pool.
Ludokrus leapt back to the track, whooping with joy.
‘Two-nil!’ he chanted. ‘Two-nil, two-nil!’
Glad ignored him, starting back towards the motorbike. He thrust out a hand. ‘No, you must not touch.’
‘But Norman ... I’ve got to get him back ...’
‘Not that way. Probably is booby trap. If you are not Emissary ... boom.’
Glad gave the bike one last desperate glance then allowed herself to be steered back down the hill towards the distant sanctuary of the town.
41 : Ghost Town
Rata had never been the liveliest of places and now, with the prospect of a fine warm holiday weekend ahead, it was positively dead. A ghost town that had been abandoned in favour of seaside baches and motor camps. There wasn’t a car in sight.
Glad stopped, rubbing the unscorched side of her brow. ‘No, no, the Stevensons were going away this morning,’ she muttered. ‘Up here. Beazley Street. There might be something ...’ Her voice trailed off.
Coral and Alkemy exchanged glances. They both sensed she’d been hurt more than she was letting on. It was hardly surprising. She’d been right beside the car when it exploded. Yet she pressed on, her mouth set with grim determination.
At the end of the street lay a weary looking house behind which sat all the cars they could ever want. There were cars on blocks, cars on their sides, cars on their roofs, cars that looked almost whole, and cars that were little more than a handful of rusting parts. Some were stacked six high, arranged against the wire mesh fence that ran round two sides of the house, their lightless mudguards and toothless grilles giving them a skull-like air.
The gates to the fenced-off area were locked. Somewhere inside a heavy, mean-sounding dog barked. A freshly painted sign fastened to the fence said the place was Triple-T Car Spares. It even had a worldwide web address.
A boy was sitting on the veranda of the house, chewing gum and watching them approach. A boy they recognised.
‘Your dad in, Tyler?’ Glad said. ‘We need his car.’
Tyler Thuggut shrugged.
‘Please, it’s important.’
Amber Eloise Sauvage appeared from the shadows behind him. ‘What do you lot want?’ she said.
‘Amber, please. Is your mum in?’ Glad said.
‘It’s Amber Eloise,’ she hissed back.
In the distance they heard the crackle of a motorcycle engine.
‘We need to borrow a car,’ Glad repeated.
‘I bet you do,’ Amber sneered, her eyes lingering on Alkemy’s footwear. She’d lost a shoe in the collapse of the displacer field and was improvising a replacement from some bits of folded cardboard and a length of string.
‘Do any of these work?’ Ludokrus gestured at the hundreds of cars behind the house.
‘Gates are locked even if they did,’ Amber said.
‘Tyler?’ Glad tried again.
The sound of the motorbike was getting louder.
‘Dad’s out,’ Tyler grunted. ‘Making a pick-up.’
‘And your mum?’
‘Away. Visiting her sister.’
‘Thanks anyway.’ Glad turned, leading her band of followers away.
They crossed the street, taking a path between two fenced-off sections that led down to a creek then followed it till they reached a patch of wasteland. Beyond was the main road and Rata’s shops.
Keeping low, following the creek to where it ran under the road through a narrow concrete pipe, they paused and looked across. On the other side lay Reihana Motors, its sign switched off, its pumps silent, Errol Fitchett’s bright green bus the only vehicle in its forecourt.
‘The Flyer!’ Glad hissed.
The motorbike approached, cruising up the main street, its rider scanning left and right. They dived for cover, but not before confirming their worst fears. Muddy, scuffed and covered in a patina of quarry dust, the Emissary was still functioning.
They listened to it pass then peeked out from their hiding place.
‘I’ll go first,’ Glad said. ‘I know where Bill keeps the keys. Wait here.’
‘What’s the bus doing there?’ Coral asked as Glad darted across the road.
‘Must be in for servicing,’ Tim replied, not daring to take his eyes off the dark rider.
Glad was sheltered now, out of sight of the Emissary who stopped and turned around, heading slowly back towards them. She tried the door. Locked. She rummaged in a nearby waste bin, found an old piston and used it to punch a neat hole in the corner of the window.
The Emissary reacted instantly, even though it was still a hundred metres away. The bike revved and picked up speed.
Glad reached through the window, stretching as far as she could to the pegboard that held customers’ keys on curved hooks. She too heard the change in the speed of the motorbike’s approach, nearly dropping them in her haste.
Snatching her arm back and stifling a cry as she slashed her wrist on a jagged edge of glass, she dived for cover behind a stack of worn out tyres.
The motorcycle slowed again, its rider scanning left and right, searching for the source of the suspicious sound. It raised its damaged hand from the handlebars, flicking it from it from side to side a couple of times. Something glinted in the light. Coral turned to Ludokrus, about to ask what it was doing but he pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, ‘Sound sensors.’
They huddled by the narrow concrete pipe and held their breath as the Emissary passed, heading back in the direction of the school.
A faint hiss announced the opening of the bus’s pneumatic door. Glad beckoned and they raced towards her as the distant figure slowed and began to turn once more.
Gesturing frantically, Ludokrus tried to indicate she shouldn’t speak above a whisper but her attention was split between the running figures and the Emissary.
‘Keep low,’ she said, waving them on board. ‘Wait till I get it started.’
Instantly the motorbike hurtled back towards them.
Alkemy scrambled up the steps with Coral close behind. A muffled shot rang out and something flew past Tim’s knee, punching a neat hole in the side of the bus.
‘It’s got another gun!’ he cried as Glad shoved him on board.
‘Only pistol,’ Ludokrus replied, charging in after him.
A second shot rang out. ‘Missed again,’ he said.
Then Coral screamed. Ludokrus spun round and saw Glad collapse on the steps behind him, a bloody wound in her side.
42 : Bus Rush
They dragged Glad up the steps and
laid her gently between the seats, her deathly white face creased in a grimace of pain. The bullet had grazed her hip and blood was soaking into the waistband of her jeans. Alkemy went to work immediately.
Tim found the lever for the doors and closed them, muffling the sound of the approaching motorbike but sealing them inside.
‘We’re trapped,’ Coral said desperately.
‘Maybe not.’ Ludokrus eased the keys from Glad’s clenched fist and threw himself into the driver’s seat. He hunted about, found the ignition switch, and a second later the old bus rumbled into life.
‘Can you drive a bus?’ Tim said.
‘Easy, no problem,’ Ludokrus replied. Then stalled it.
Outside, the Emissary slowed, wary after its last two encounters with these life forms. Its sensors indicated that six targets had entered the vehicle. If only it had its ion gun. With all the flammable material round here all six could have been wiped out in an instant.
The old bus rumbled into life again and immediately surged backwards.
‘Oops, wrong gear,’ Ludokrus muttered. After another unhealthy graunch from the gear box and a couple of bunny-hops, they were off, not realising that another metre in reverse would have knocked the Emissary from its bike.
Coral made Glad as comfortable as she could, propping her head on some balled-up clothing while Alkemy pushed her bush shirt aside and eased up a corner of the blood-soaked T-shirt underneath. Coral glanced at the gory mess and looked away, feeling woozy.
Taking the calculator from her backpack, Alkemy ran it across the wound. ‘Is not so bad,’ she said as Ludokrus graunched his way through another gear. ‘Break the corner of your pelvis,’ she peered at the tiny screen and flicked some switches, ‘but the bullet pass right through.’
Glad bit her lip and gasped one word: ‘Norman.’
‘He’s all right,’ Coral replied. She took her hand and guided it to her shirt pocket so the injured woman could feel the little mouse moving about inside. From the corner of her eye she saw Alkemy press the calculator right into the gooey mess.
Glad flinched.
So did Coral.
‘I give you some machines to stop infection.’ Alkemy lifted the blood-smeared calculator to release a small greenish blob right into the wound. ‘Also some to make the pain go. We fix you proper when we are back at the ship.’
Glad gave Coral a questioning look and mouthed, ‘Machines?’ Coral held her eyes and nodded as Ludokrus ground up another gear.
‘See? Is easy,’ he called to Tim as they headed out of town.
Tim glanced at the speedometer. They were doing almost thirty kilometres an hour ... no, that was miles an hour, (boy, this bus was old!), but even so it was hardly like his ride with Glad. Then he noticed something else and wondered if he should mention it. A collection of spanners, ratchets and screwdrivers were lying on one of the front seats, as though the mechanic was halfway through doing something. Tim hoped it wasn’t anything important.
The Emissary followed warily, its sensors and logic circuits working overtime as it attempted to make sense of the situation. It knew that some of its systems had been damaged but there was no indication of faults in its central logic unit. Yet things didn’t quite add up.
Why did the targets’ vehicle stop short of running it down just now? Till this point they’d seemed intent on inflicting damage. Why the change of tactic? And why attempt to escape in such a slow vehicle when staying hidden in the town would have made their detection considerably more difficult?
It was almost as if they were luring it into a trap.
The Emissary signalled its status and concerns to its controllers, considering, while it waited for a response, that the primitive creatures might be planning to immobilise it and attempt to steal its secrets or copy its technology. It could never let that happen. It ran and re-ran checks on the self-destruction circuits buried deep within its core.
‘What’s it doing?’ Ludokrus called, concentrating on the road ahead.
Tim edged past Glad and ran to the back. ‘It’s just following us.’
A second later the window was shattered by a gun shot and the Emissary accelerated.
‘Not any more!’ Tim yelled.
The Sentinels’ response had been unequivocal. ‘Destroy all life forms immediately!’
Crouching on the floor, Tim watched the Emissary draw level with, then gradually accelerate up the outside of the bus. ‘It’s getting closer,’ he called.
‘I see him,’ Ludokrus replied, keeping one eye on the side mirror and one eye on the road ahead.
The Emissary drew in behind the driver’s window, juggling the bike’s controls awkwardly with its damaged hand, then raised its pistol. As it did so, Ludokrus tugged the wheel. The bus lurched sideways, catching the motorbike a glancing blow and sending it careering off the road on to the grass verge where it bounced and jolted before disappearing down a ditch.
‘Whoo-hoo!’ Ludokrus cried. ‘Three-nil!’
‘Drive careful!’ Alkemy yelled back, still nursing her patient.
Ludokrus grinned in the mirror at Tim. ‘Mad robot try to kill us and she say to drive careful!’
The vibrations had dislodged most of the safety glass from the bullet-shattered rear window and Tim watched as the Emissary remounted the motorbike. ‘It’s still after us,’ he shouted.
A second later they hit the narrow gravel road, throwing up a cloud of choking dust.
Tim made his way forward, glancing down at Glad as he passed. She winked at him. A hard brownish crust had formed over her wound like a scab.
‘Is she going to be all right?’ he asked.
‘Except maybe for bruises,’ Alkemy said as the bus hit a pothole and they all bounced into the air.
The engine laboured, the bus slowed. Ludokrus changed down one gear, two, as they wound into the foothills.
‘He’ll soon catch us up,’ Tim said anxiously.
‘Yeah, but hard to get past,’ Ludokrus replied. ‘The road is narrow. Much dust also.’
‘But it doesn’t go on forever.’
Ludokrus took a quick glance at the tools rattling about on the passenger seat. ‘You are right. We must slow him more. Make four-nil. I have idea. You can drive?’
‘I’m twelve!’ Tim exclaimed.
Ludokrus grinned, waving a thumb back at the Emissary, ‘You think he has license?’
Tim gulped as Ludokrus shifted the seat as far forward as it would go then began to slide out to the left, keeping his foot on the accelerator all the while.
‘Round here,’ he gestured to the other side.
Tim inched round and sat, sliding in to take the controls.
‘Keep to this speed. You need only to steer. I won’t be long.’
Tim grasped the wheel with clammy hands, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. They’d made such a smooth transition that the bus hadn’t slowed for an instant, and when Coral looked up to see Ludokrus heading down the aisle with a handful of tools, she blinked in astonishment.
‘Who’s ...?’ she began, before catching sight of Tim. ‘Oh my god!’
‘He is natural,’ Ludokrus said dismissively. ‘Come, I need help.’
Tim didn’t feel like a natural, perched precariously on the edge of the seat so he could reach the pedals. The steering wheel was enormous and so heavy to turn it required all his strength. Fortunately they weren’t going very fast — the increasing steepness of the hill saw to that. He swung the bus into another corner, panting with the effort.
Ludokrus and Coral were unbolting seats. Or trying to. They’d wedged themselves in the back corner and were struggling with the chrome headed bolts that secured the seats to the floor. It was hard work. The bolts were tight and the continual jolting didn’t make things any easier, but finally a seat came free.
‘At last!,’ Ludokrus gasped. ‘Now maybe one more for spare.’
Tim was starting to get the hang of driving. It wasn’t all that hard. Then he reminded himself he wa
s really only steering, not changing gears. But he had got them up the hill all by himself.
‘Ludokrus,’ he called, not daring to take his eyes off the road. ‘Ludokrus, we’re nearly at the top.’
Sprawled on the floor, still wrestling with a tricky seat bolt, Ludokrus yelled, ‘One second.’
‘Ooooo!’ a woozy voice behind Tim said. ‘Change up, change up, you’ll hurt the little engine.’
‘Glad!’ he cried, risking a quick glance to his left. She’d levered herself upright and slid along the floor to perch behind him. ‘Can you take over?’
She shook her head and patted her legs. ‘All numb. But if you can manage the pedals, I’ll do the gears.’ And that was how they worked it.
‘You are OK?’ Ludokrus called, still struggling with the second seat.
‘Think so,’ Tim yelled back as the engine settled into a more comfortable note.
Glad raised her head to peer through the bottom of the windscreen, regarding the passing scenery with a happy smile.
‘She’s all right!’ Tim said.
Behind her, Alkemy frowned. ‘I think I give her too much painkiller.’
The Emissary made its break as soon as the winding road levelled out at the top of the hill. It accelerated rapidly, closing the distance between them in a flash.
Five metres from the back of the bus. Three metres, two ... The Emissary’s short-range radar detected an open area ahead but its optical sensors were blinded by dust and it didn’t notice the two faces that appeared either side of the shattered back window.
‘Now!’ Ludokrus snapped, and he and Coral hurled the unbolted seat straight out.
It barely touched the ground before the Emissary hit it, sending the bike and rider cartwheeling in different directions.
‘Four-nil! Ludokrus cried, giving Coral a jubilant high-five. Moments later they began lining up seat bomb number two.