But then they kept on going, hitting a small updraft of heated tropical air which lifted them. Up they went again and back down they came, curving toward the eastern coast. They flew over unbroken jungle, thick and lush as anything Seeva could have imagined. It all looked small from up here, easy and quick to cross; down on the ground it would be anything but.
In a moment, Alifred spotted and pointed out a large cleared strip in the jungle up ahead. The plane swept low, nearly brushing the tops of the jungle trees. They set down, rolling across sunbaked concrete, the dark wall of the jungle looming around them. The plane slowed with a rush of air, and they crawled past a line of men armed with rifles.
Off to the right, Seeva saw a small cluster of buildings. They certainly looked like something out of a resort.
"What is this place?" Alifred asked, staring at the buildings.
"It’s a private ranch," the bald man said.
"One of Creedy's?" asked Alifred.
The man nodded.
"Aren't you coming?" Marina asked him.
"I stay with the plane," the bald man said.
"Too bad," Marina replied. "I bet there are some comfy beds in there..."
She was ignored. The stewardess came back, waving them out of their seats.
"There's a storm that might be swinging this way," she said. "We need to be taking off again as soon as possible, or we'll be stranded here. Let's get you all settled in..."
They all unbuckled their belts and stood up, following the stewardess out to the stairs. It was still cool in the cabin, but up near the door Seeva was suddenly hit by a wave of humid heat that almost made her stumble.
They climbed down the steps, already sweating. The jungle was still, the air thick with moisture. Everything was completely stagnant, the high-pressure system building toward a violent explosion later. The jungle was not silent, by any means. Seeva heard sounds, strange whoopings and calls she thought she would only ever hear in movies.
And then she heard voices. A man appeared from the rear of the plane, followed closely by a retinue of rifleman. Where they were sober and stiff, he was loose and languid and cheerful, the type of guy who always seems to be on vacation no matter where he goes. He wore canvas shorts, tattered old sandals, and a short sleeve button down shirt. The shirt was open in front, revealing a tanned physique almost beautiful and lean enough to pin the guy as a synth.
He strode over, waving and grinning, showing rows of white teeth. "Here they are, the newest arrivals! And the last. Everyone else is already here. Come on, come on, don't be shy..."
He started sweeping his arm in a grand beckoning gesture. The three synths walked forward. Seeva couldn't speak for the others, but she was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She forgot to even introduce herself or say anything at all. She just let the tan guy and his riflemen lead her along, toward the buildings.
There was a small wooden fence and gate barring their way off the tarmac. A very quaint fixture. Teak wood, it looked like. Seeva touched a fencepost as she passed through the gate, feeling the slick, aged veneer of it under her palm. It made her feel grounded at last. Yes, she was still on Earth. But in a place where her kind were feared and hated in equal measure. Which made it not so different from a lot of places back home, really but they were way out in the jungle, on a private ranch. Surrounded by more forward-thinking people. Alifred was right; she'd be safe here.
Tarmac became rough cobblestone beneath her feet. She looked around at the buildings. At first they seemed to be crude bungalows. Thatched roofs, stucco walls. But the longer she looked, she realized that they were simulacra; sturdy things made of modern materials. From far away they looked like the sort of buildings that would have been built on these islands for centuries. But up close, they appeared to offer all the modern comforts. The best of both worlds.
Seeva and her friends were led along toward the largest of the three buildings, whose front doors were wide open. The riflemen dropped away, hurrying to various posts around the tiny compound.
The tanned guy beckoned them further, up into the dark interior of the cabana. Immediately Seeva's nose filled with tropical smells. Pineapple, coconut, suntan oil. She could see no source for any of these smells. Apparently, they were artificial, pumped in to set a certain mood.
There was also a smell of human sweat, which came from the tanned guy who was now taking his position at the front of the room, beside a huge projector screen. He grabbed a pointing stick, cleared his throat, and gestured for Seeva and her two friends to sit down.
There were nine chairs here, arranged before the screen. Six of them were taken. Seeva glanced quickly around at the strangers as she took her seat. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she thought they were all synths. A couple of them were vaguely familiar.
And they were all women. Alifred and the tanned guy were the only males in the room.
"Listen up, now," the tanned guy said. "This is going to be a very brief orientation. An instructional on how things work on this ranch. I just need a minute or two of your patience, and then it will be off to the races. First of all, let me introduce myself. My name is Bowen Creedy. But y'all can call me Bowen."
There was a murmur among the seated people. Seeva ignored a whisper from Marina - "This is the guy?" - and stared straight at Bowen, taking him in. Did he look rich? Not in his current outfit. However, he did have that loose, confident air of a guy who knows he has enough money to fix any problem without having to get his hands dirty.
"First of all," Bowen went on, "I'd like to welcome you to the most beautiful private reserve in the world... in my humble opinion. The outside world will not bother you here. This is a closed system. The jungle acts as a pretty good natural barrier, but we've also installed electric fencing around the perimeter. But just how big is that perimeter? Behind these buildings, past a gate, you will enter a vast and open ranch the size of Central Park. There are plenty of pathways throughout. But never fear, most of the area is quite wild. I've kept it that way on purpose. All the dangerous wildlife has been rooted out, but the labyrinth tangles of the jungle remain. I suggest sticking to the paths whenever possible."
As he spoke, he pointed to various spots on the projection screen. It was an overhead map of the ranch, with all paths and structures visible. Seeva committed it to memory, but knew her memorized version would probably be useless once she was in the thick of the jungle.
"Any questions?" Bowen asked, dropping his pointer stick to the floor.
The guests all looked at each other. No one said anything.
"Good deal," Bowen added with a smile, raising both hands and clapping them together. "Then let's get started! Why don't y’all head on in? Have fun, make yourselves at home..."
He started making shooing gestures, laughing and smiling and cracking jokes. Seeva felt herself swept along, following the line of synths out of the cabana and around a corner. Signs pointed the way, and in a moment they were standing at a tall, steel fence with razor wire festooning the top. Rather less quaint than the little teak gate they stepped through before.
A guard let them through the gate. Yellow signs warned them of the danger of touching the fence itself. But it was actually quite difficult to touch the thing, even if you wanted to. Thick tangles of undergrowth barred the way. The plants closest to the fence were fake, made of plastic or rubber.
There was one path here, curving left. A single signpost, eight feet high, showing eight different panels as well as the distance to each destination in meters. Seeva read each panel, narrowing her eyes, trying to fight the growing disquiet in the back of her mind.
There was nothing on the panels. Nothing meaningful, anyway. Just gibberish phrases, scrambled nonsense with fake distances.
She turned around just in time to see the gate shut and seal behind them. On the other side, a guard who refused to meet her eyes through up a huge, heavy switch. A faint, deep thrumming sounded, fading to silence after a moment as the frequency fell beyond hearing.
&
nbsp; The fence had not been electrified before. Now it was. Including the gate itself, she thought. Whereas an electric fence was mildly damaging and unpleasant to an organic human, it was potentially fatal to a synth. How hadn't she seen that before? Obviously, the electric fence wasn't for her protection. It wasn't to keep marauding islanders out. It was to keep her in. Her and her friends.
Alifred was having the same thought, smiling nervously as he looked around.
"Some party," he said. "I thought it would be more quaint. More freeform. But I guess
Bowen's cooked up a whole theme for us..."
"Island captivity, the thrill ride of the century," one of the other girls said.
Hearing her voice, Seeva now recognized her. It was Glisha Neal, a political commentator who focused her venomous tongue on organic policies and all their shortcomings and prejudices. Her acerbic opinions had won her many enemies, as well as a small following of loyal and outspoken fans who often wreaked havoc in her name.
Marina was already wandering down the path, whistling to herself.
"Where are you going?" Alifred asked.
"The only place I can go, darling," she said. "Care to follow?"
They went with her, all of them in single file on the narrow path. The jungle plants brushed their shoulders on either side, leaving smears of humidity on their clothing.
Suddenly, from among the trees, their came the echoing and synchronous cry of a dozen jungle birds. Seeva jumped in startlement, looking around for the source. But all she saw were loudspeakers, perched and camouflaged in the trees.
The bird sound fell, fading into human laughter.
"Did y'all like my kookaburra impression?" the voice of Bowen Creedy drawled.
"I've been working on it for a long time. Even longer than I've been working on this, the thrill ride of the century, to rephrase what Miss Neal said.”
“Are you spying on us? Where are you?” Glisha Neal asked.
“I might have listened to a thing or two,” Creedy admitted through the loudspeakers, still obviously amused with himself. “I am not inside the reserve just yet. I will be soon though. But I just thought you should know that a few of my friends are already in there with ya. Might wanna keep an eye out, is all I’m sayin’. And remember, if you see them, chances are they have already seen you!”
The speakers crackled. The transmission ended.
"What the hell?" someone whispered.
Even Marina looked doubtful. She glanced back, waited to see if anyone would answer her unspoken questions, then kept walking down the path.
"This is… not what I anticipated," Alifred said nervously as he glanced from Marina to Seeva.
Seeva called up the memorized images, the map Bowen had shown them. So far, it seemed to be accurate. At least as far as the path went. It started as a single branch, but soon it would begin to join with others, spreading into a complex maze. This ranch was very large, but it was made to seem even larger by the dense walls of jungle between the paths. You could be ten feet away from someone - or closer - and neither of you would ever know it.
Also on the map was a structure. It should be coming up on the left soon, before the first branch. And yes, there it was. A short length of path led to the tiny clearing where it sat. Marina was already jogging up to it, and Seeva broke into a trot to beat her there.
At first, the building seemed to be an open bar. The type you'd see at a resort. But when she got closer, Seeva saw that all the bottles were empty, and the stools were cardboard cutouts.
"Look," Marina said, stooping behind the bar. She came up with a little cardboard sign, on which someone had written: Made you look!
"Good one, Creedy," Alifred scoffed. "Just what the hell does he think he's doing?"
Before the last word was out of his mouth, a spray of something warm hit Seeva's face and one of the empty bottles exploded into fine dust. Only then did she hear the gunshot, the rolling thunderous bang through the jungle. She turned her head quickly, sucking in a breath. For a moment, she thought she saw movement in the tops of the trees, a hundred feet out. Someone climbing down. Or moving into position for another shot.
By the time she turned her head back, Alifred was on the ground in a spreading pool of synth fluid. She saw the entry wound in the back of his head, a clean hole an inch in diameter. The exit wound must be tremendous. She couldn't see it. And she couldn't see anyone else, any of the other girls. They had already scattered. As the ringing in her ears died down, she was finally able to hear the fading screams as they all went running down pathways.
"Too slow, Seeva," Bowen's voice rang out from the trees. "You've got to be faster than that. Next time, it might be your life..."
She started to run at last, too frightened to be angry.
CHAPTER 9
◆◆◆
Bowen set down the handset, chuckling to himself, and turned to the side. An assistant immediately began dabbing at his face again.
"How's it looking?" Bowen asked.
"Just about done," said the assistant. "There! That should do it. Take a look."
Bowen turned to his mirror and couldn't help but grin. He looked like the jungle come alive, molded into a human form. The perfect camouflage. Better than a ghillie suit.
Silent and slick.
"God, I can’t wait to get that pretty bitches head on my wall," he said. “Did you see her? Isn’t she the best lookin’ thing you’ve ever seen in your life?”
“She is beautiful, sir. Surely,” the assistant offered in obligatory agreement.
“You know if you want a piece of the action, I’ve got some extra gear,” Creedy offered.
"It’s not for me, sir. Hunting synths really isn’t my thing. I’m… afraid to be honest. I heard they can be dangerous," said the assistant. "I'd rather stay right in here, safe and sound."
"There ain’t a whole lotta danger in this, man," Bowen replied. "We have guns and jungle experience. They don't. It's a slaughter. The only hunt where you get to kill something smarter than you are. And the kicker is, they don't even want to believe that they are smarter, they're so hell bent on this 'equality' nonsense... Anyway, make sure to have a good-sized batch of margarita ready to go for afterward. It's a hot one out there."
CHAPTER 10
◆◆◆
So much for memorization. So much for the map. Seeva was so focused on getting away from the scene of Alifred's death that she immediately forgot to keep track of where she was going. She took branches at random, blowing past buildings without a second look. At some point she took her shoes off, which she was proud of. Some part of her terror-numbed brain recognized that barefoot running was quieter.
Now she was out of breath. Overheating. The air was stifling, it clung to her like a pile of wet towels. She doubled over, staring at her bare feet and breathing. Trying to make her brain work again. All she could think about was how dirty her feet were. Plus how strangely syrupy Alifred's leaking lifeblood had been.
Another shot broke her out of her reverie. She jumped up straight, expecting to be dead in the next second. The shot had originated from nearby, but had been aimed at something in the opposite direction. She could tell by the way the sound waves propagated, how they faded and bounced back to her.
She started to move again. A sensible jogging pace, rather than an outright run. She stayed cognizant of her surroundings, listening intently, keeping her head on a swivel. It was perhaps a better idea just to shove herself behind some trees and wait it out. Except they wouldn't stop hunting until they had her. And she needed to reunite with the others. With someone.
"Seeva..."
She looked up and around, then realized it was just Bowen's crackly voice again, coming out of the speakers.
"Let me ask you a question, hun," he said. "Did you really believe all that bullshit you said about oak trees and pinecones… or palm trees, or whatever the hell you said. You know what I’m talkin’ about.”
Seeva fought hard to ignore Creedy�
��s voice. He was taunting her, and she knew it. Likely dropping hints to let her know that he had watched her broadcast. And that he was probably behind the attack that triggered the global data sphere’s defenses to temporarily shut her down.
“You don’t want to talk to ol’ Creedy, that’s fine, darlin’. But you should know that I’m comin’ for ya.”
Seeva continued onward without a word.
“I’ll see ya soon, darlin’…” Creedy said darkly.
Seeva forced herself to stay calm, to maintain her speed. He would probably just come in the same way they had, through the gate, and move out from there. But then again, he probably had other entry points scattered around. Secret hatches, maybe even underground tunnels. No reason to worry about that, though. Just a waste of brainpower.
All she could do was stay alert, react to each threat as it came and no sooner.
And no later, either. Or she'd wind up like Alifred.
A third shot had just gone off, rolling through the silent jungle air like the crack of a whip.
The sound made her flinch, duck her head slightly. She waited briefly, for what she didn't know. As the sound of the shot faded, her ears caught a gentle rustling in the trees up ahead. And a grunting voice, someone struggling to break through the tangle.
Fear shot through Seeva. She darted to her left, hiding herself behind the thick trunk of an old tree. She slid her head to the side, peeking around the tree, ready to run at any second.
The person coming out of the jungle had one shoe on. The other was nowhere to be seen. Her clothing was torn, and her usually fabulous hair was in a pitiful disarray. Her beautiful face was twisted into a mask of desperate fear and heartbreaking confusion. It was Marina. Marina, a creature designed to live large and be happy, to bring a bright light to any room she entered. It just wasn't right to see her like this. The thought that Marina was mortal, that people could possibly want her dead, was just as disturbing to Seeva as the sight of her beloved Alifred dead on the ground.
Grave Makers (Darkside Dreams - Series 1 Book 2) Page 14