Vapor

by David Meyer

  But it’s not a lion. It’s a robot.

  All of a sudden, it hit me. I knew how Eco-Trek controlled the Grueler, how it kept the metal monster at bay.

  Looking east, I saw dead trees. Rocks. Hard packed soil.

  And the road.

  “Take a right,” I shouted. “Regroup at the road.”

  Akolo veered east. The others did the same.

  The air thickened. I found it difficult to breathe. Steeling my lungs, I continued to run.

  Akolo began to slow as he darted around one side of a tree trunk. Beverly and Carrie ran around the other side, taking the lead. Benigno scrambled over some rocks while Graham circled around them.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the Grueler shift directions multiple times, trying its best to follow all of us at once. Its pace slowed and we were able to keep ahead of it.

  Beverly dove onto the road. Rolling to her feet, she withdrew her gun. Her gaze tightened as she took aim at the metal beast. Graham ran onto the road. He swung around, gun in hand.

  I gained speed, catching up with the others. I could feel the Grueler behind us, its gnashing spikes drawing ever closer to our backs.

  Carrie and I ran onto the pavement. Gasping for breath, we spun around.

  The Grueler shifted toward Akolo. Electricity filled the air. The kid tried to run faster.

  But it wasn’t fast enough.

  “Hey, rust bucket.” Benigno slowed his pace. “Over here.”

  Benigno fell behind Akolo. The Grueler immediately switched its attention toward him. A metal claw swiped out, grazing the back of his right leg. He stumbled. Fell to the ground.

  Machinery clanked. The air buzzed like a swarm of bees. The odors of grease and metal filled my nostrils.

  And then it was on Benigno.

  Graham, Beverly, and I lifted our guns. A barrage of blasts rang out.

  Oblivious to the gunfire, the beast’s heavy paws struck Benigno’s chest, squeezing the wind out of his lungs. Its metallic paws pushed deep into his skin and he cried out. Its spiked teeth, gnashing furiously, shifted toward his head. Benigno tried to move, to escape. But the Grueler had a firm lock on him.

  Its teeth flew to his face.

  He closed his eyes. Turned his head.

  A shout rang out. A blur of motion passed before me.

  A loud crunching noise filled my ears. A scream nearly deafened me.

  The beast’s jaws halted a foot above Benigno’s exposed cheek. Its spiked teeth clenched a struggling mass of limbs.

  A soft ripping noise rang out. Blood gushed. The warm liquid sailed outward, splattering my face. Horror filled me as I stared at the now-limp form hanging from the Grueler’s jaws.

  It was Akolo.

  Chapter 62

  Gunshots rang out from close range. Puffs of smoke shot into the air and the Grueler reared up. Akolo’s body slipped from its jaws and squished against the ground.

  Benigno screamed. I grabbed his shoulders. He tried to fight me off, but I managed to drag him back onto the pavement. He continued to fight me, forcing me to hold him down.

  Beverly scooped up Akolo’s body and returned to the road. “What now?” she whispered as she set him on the pavement.

  “Don’t shoot. Don’t do anything.” I steeled my jaw. “And pray this works.”

  Still holding Benigno down, I aimed my pistol at the Grueler. Beverly and Graham did the same.

  Its closest head twisted from side to side. Then it began to pace back and forth, like a lion stalking a treed prey. However, it didn’t turn around as it paced. Instead, it just moved from north to south and back again.

  It reared up and turned in a circle. I noticed a small gap in its armor. It exposed the beast’s central core, a tangled mass of metal pipes and wires.

  The buzzing died off. The hissing melted into silence. Then the Grueler turned northwest.

  And walked away.

  Chapter 63

  Breathing heavily, Benigno crawled toward Akolo. A giant chunk of flesh had been carved out of the boy’s neck area. His head dangled awkwardly to one side and blood was everywhere. Even a top-notch doctor with the best technology available couldn’t save him.

  “Oh, wow.” Akolo’s voice sounded ghostly. “That … that hurt.”

  “Save your strength,” Benigno whispered. “Maybe we can—”

  “No …” Blood streamed from his lips. “This is it … don’t have much time.”

  “Why? Why’d you do this?”

  “You’re … you’re my dad.”

  Tears formed in Benigno’s eyes.

  “Please.” Akolo’s voiced turned breathy. “Save mom. You’re her best chance. Her only chance.”

  Benigno tried to hug his son. “Just hold—”

  “Save … save her. Please … I …”

  “Akolo?” Benigno placed his ear against the boy’s chest. “Can you hear me? Say something.”

  Akolo’s body sagged. I knelt by his side. Felt for his pulse. Then I reached to his face.

  And closed his eyes.

  Chapter 64

  “Poor guy.” Beverly sighed. “I can’t imagine how he’s feeling.”

  I glanced at Benigno. He knelt on the road. His body was hunched over Akolo’s corpse. Soft sobs filled the air as Carrie tried to comfort him.

  Coldness crept over my heart, engulfing every inch of it. First, the Grueler had killed Milt Stevens. Now, it had done the same to Akolo. I wanted revenge. I wanted it chase after it, to tear it apart.

  But the Grueler was just a machine. And could one really get revenge on a machine? After all, it couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. Blaming the Grueler for its actions was akin to blaming the drone for Lila’s death. Instead, I focused my anger on the two people most responsible for Eco-Trek’s various killing machines.

  Simona and Pascal.

  “Amazing.” Beverly shook her head. “I’d heard quadruped robots were in development, but I never thought I’d see one face-to-face.”

  “I don’t understand.” Graham frowned. “Why didn’t it keep attacking us?”

  “Because it couldn’t see us.” Beverly glanced at me. “Right?”

  I nodded. “See those stones? They’re markers for an electric fence. Eco-Trek must use it to keep the Grueler away from certain areas.”

  I closed my eyes and gave them a good rubbing. But I couldn’t get the Grueler out of my mind. I could see its dual heads, its sleek metallic body, and its powerful metal limbs. I could feel the warmth emanating off the panel of red lights mounted where its eyes should have been located. I could sense its size and weight. And I could hear its buzzing jaws, its rotating tracks of spiked teeth.

  “That makes sense,” Graham said. “Still, how was it able to track us all over the island?”

  “It’s probably programmed to recognize a combination of things,” Beverly said thoughtfully. “Auditory sensors would recognize footsteps and voices. Visual sensors could determine the identity of prey as well as its location.”

  “Pretty advanced for a bucket of bolts. How do you suppose Simona got her hands on it?”

  “Same way she got the drones.” Beverly shrugged. “She must have a high-level connection in the U.S. military.”

  They continued to talk about the Grueler in hushed, almost reverent tones. Meanwhile, I drifted toward Benigno and Carrie. He was no longer crying. Instead, he stared off into the distance, a lost look in his eyes.

  I took a deep breath. “He was a good kid.”

  Benigno looked away.

  “I’ve lost loved ones before.” I felt a sharp pain in my chest. “Never even saw it coming. I could spin you a bunch of crap, tell you it gets easier over time. And maybe it does. I suppose it did for me. But I know that doesn’t mean much right now.”

  He twisted toward me. Gave me a blank look.

  “Find a place to hide,” I said. “Somewhere along the road. We’ll get Rizzalyn for you.”

  He wiped his eyes. “I’m coming with you.” />
  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  I pulled him to his feet. He gathered Akolo in his arms and gently placed the boy’s body on the edge of the pavement. Then he exhaled a long breath and turned toward me.

  For a moment, I stared into his hollow eyes. Seeing his pain, I began to question my own quest. Yes, my father had tipped the scales heavily in favor of progress. Yes, he’d rampaged right through New York’s history, leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. But would saving the reliquary really make up for that? Could anything make up for it? And even if it could, was it worth the risk? What if something happened to Beverly? To Graham? Was one artifact—were any artifacts—worth their lives?

  I forced the questions from my mind. Then I moved to the side of the road, taking care to stay within the stones. Crouching down, I headed south. The lack of guards indicated no one had seen us yet.

  And I intended to keep it that way.

  As we approached the station, Graham touched my arm. “We need to talk.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Alone.”

  I slowed my pace, allowing the others to gain some distance on us. “What’s up?” I asked.

  He nodded at Benigno. “Is he going to be okay? I mean can we depend on him?”

  I shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Fair enough. Listen, I overheard your conversation with Carrie and Beverly. And Carrie’s right. Eco-Trek needs to go.”

  I shook my head. “You’re both crazy.”

  “Perhaps. But we’re right about this.”

  “We’re finding the reliquary and Rizzalyn. Then we’re out of here.”

  “What about Eco-Trek?”

  “Someone else will take Simona down.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I exhaled. “I know we can’t stop her by ourselves.”

  “We have to try.”

  We stopped short of the station. Its walls were made of concrete. A large sign, mounted above the loading bay, read Eco-Trek.

  We waited for a little while, watching for guards and timing the bright spotlights. Then we headed for the loading bay.

  A quick check confirmed the doors were locked. Taking the lead, I stole alongside the hangar. Then I peeked into the interior. Controlled chaos lay before me. Men and women of all shapes and sizes hurried back and forth. Some wore lab coats while others wore overalls or other garments. Most of the activity centered on a gleaming drone, which sat almost directly in front of me.

  Other drones, exactly like the one we’d seen in Israel, were lined up nearby. To the side, I noticed a small business jet. I assumed it was for Simona’s personal use.

  Close by, I saw a mini-junkyard. Discarded machinery, broken tools, and other garbage were strewn over a twenty square foot patch of coated concrete. Many of the items were fairly large. Behind the junkyard, I saw racks of blue jumpsuits and other gear.

  “Go for the jumpsuits,” I whispered. “On my mark.”

  I bided my time, waiting for an opening. Then, one by one, I waved the others into the hangar. They darted to the racks, grabbed jumpsuits, and ducked behind the machinery.

  I paused for an extra moment. Then I hustled into the hangar and made my way to the racks. After everything we’d faced, it seemed so easy, so simple. And yet, I knew it was an illusion. Things weren’t going to get easier.

  They were about to get a whole lot harder.

  Chapter 65

  Ed Hooper clutched his armrests as the weightlessness sensation fled his body. Gradually, he felt heavier and heavier, until he was at roughly one hundred and fifty percent his normal weight. Then his weight reversed course. His grip loosened as he grew lighter and lighter.

  Hooper wasn’t especially fond of flying. He liked his feet on the ground, where he could control them. But if he had to be airborne, he supposed the HyperMax was the way to go. Simply put, it was the fastest plane available to the U.S. military.

  In fact, it was the fastest plane in the entire world.

  Just a half hour earlier, he and a small team of Delta Force operators had been ushered into a top-secret hangar in a remote part of Northern Virginia. They’d quickly been introduced to Major Kevin Ford, a pilot with the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA. Ford was a tall, broad-shouldered man who spoke with a Boston accent. His eyes were soft around the edges, hinting at a career spent testing equipment rather than fighting with it.

  After a brief explanation of the flight, Ford had taken them aboard the strange-looking HyperMax aircraft. Within five minutes, it was roaring down a runway and lifting into the sky.

  With the aid of special rocket-based engines, the HyperMax had quickly ascended above the outer limit of Earth’s atmosphere, which was approximately twenty-five miles off the ground. Then Major Ford had shut off the engines and the plane began to coast.

  Hooper shook his head as he remembered how Major Ford had described the flight. It was, the Major had explained, like skipping a stone along the top layer of the atmosphere. First, the plane would climb gently to a height of forty miles. Then it would lose altitude. Upon falling to a height of twenty miles, the denser air would cause an increase in aerodynamic lift. Coupled with a quick fire of the engines, the plane would be sent upward again. The entire skip, from start to finish, took about two and a half minutes.

  Since the HyperMax only required occasional use of its engines, it burned an incredibly small amount of fuel. And because it spent so much time out of the atmosphere, it was able to safely redirect heat build-up into space. This allowed the plane to make do with a lighter airframe and thus, even less fuel.

  According to Ford, the trip from northern Virginia to the tiny island of Pagan—an eight thousand mile ride—would take about 23 skips. Adding in the ascent and descent, he’d estimated the entire flight would be about eighty-two minutes.

  Eight thousand miles.

  Eighty-two minutes.

  All on a single tank of gas.

  Yes, if one had to fly, the HyperMax was the way to go.

  Hooper picked up a thick file on the seat next to him. He turned to a packet of classified satellite images. They showed the island of Pagan, along with Eco-Trek’s research station, at various magnifications.

  He flipped through the images, studying each one. The island had undergone a drastic ecological change over the last eighteen months, transforming from a lush paradise into a desolate landscape. What kind of environmental group did that to their own base of operations?

  He flipped through more images, examining every piece of the island. Then he paused. A furrow creased his brow.

  Staring hard, he inspected a close-up of Pagan Bay. A large object was situated on the hillside overlooking the water. It appeared to be metallic.

  In the rush to get him to Pagan, he’d had little time to question the Separative. But he wondered if they’d provided more than just stolen taxpayer dollars to Simona. More specifically, had Secretary Bane provided any special defensive capabilities to Eco-Trek?

  He squinted. The object was too blurry for a positive identification. But now that he looked at it—really looked at it—he began to question his initial observation. Maybe it wasn’t a defensive installation.

  Maybe it was just an animal.

  Chapter 66

  “Looks like we hit the jackpot.” I took off my goggles and pulled a jumpsuit over my clothes.

  Graham frowned. “Some jackpot.”

  “These aren’t just ordinary jumpsuits.” Beverly pulled on a garment and tied her hair into a ponytail. “They’re authentic, field-tested coats from Hell Island.”

  “Ugh.” Graham grimaced as he zipped up his jumpsuit. “Whoever used this last didn’t believe in deodorant.”

  She winked at him. “That’s part of the authenticity.”

  Benigno shook the dust out of his hair after donning a slightly soiled jumpsuit. His eyes were hollow, yet glowed with a deep inner fire.

  “What’s the priority?” Carrie
asked. “Taking down the model?”

  “First, we find Rizzalyn.” Benigno’s jaw twisted in anger. “Then we start killing people.”

  “If we do that, none of us will make it out of here alive,” I replied. “And that includes Rizzalyn.”

  His jaw twisted a little more. Then he shot me a quick nod.

  “So, here’s the plan,” I said. “We find Rizzalyn and the reliquary. Then we secure a boat. After we shut down the model, we head for Saipan.”

  The gleaming drone rolled forward. We stepped closer to the wall and watched as it moved out of the hangar. It quickly picked up speed and raced down the runway. With a loud whooshing noise, it lifted into the air.

  Slowly, the hangar gate closed over. The commotion died down a little. Eco-Trek employees started to leave the hangar through doors in the back, heading off to other parts of the research station.

  Carrie donned a cap. Keeping her head low, she walked across the hangar.

  As he followed her, Graham nodded at a mechanical contraption. Long hoses connected to it. “What’s that? A refueling station?”

  “Close. It’s an aerosol station.” Carrie kept her voice soft, her face tipped to the ground. “That’s how workers load CN-46 into the drones.”

  “Where do the aerosols come from?”

  “From what I’ve heard, there’s a basement beneath us.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen it though.”

  “How many of these people know what’s really going on here?” Beverly asked.

  “Probably none of them. When I started, I was told the aerosols were for weather experiments. That was it. No details, no specifics.”

  Carrie headed for the rear of the hangar, passing numerous people along the way. A few of them cast glances in our direction, but no one seemed to recognize we weren’t part of the work force.

  The back of the hangar was divided into five areas. Each area consisted of metal tables, lined up in perfect rows and columns. Large monitors sat on the tables. A wireless keyboard and a mouse sat in front of each monitor.