“What the-, fuck?” Bitters said.
Bitters looked down, surprised by the glowing fog. He reached for his eyes as they started to sting. The gas hadn’t even appeared to touch his face before he inhaled and started coughing, flecks of blood appearing on his lips. Digger and Homer retreated away from Bitters. Digger kept one eye over his shoulder to make sure they didn’t make the same mistake but for now that direction was clear.
“Back, back, back!” Digger said.
O’Shae was still trying to get up, several of his ribs cracked. He hadn’t realised the danger they were in before irradiated sarin washed out of the opening between two buildings and enveloped him. Chest heaving, O’Shae started coughing and seemed surprised when blood began spraying from his mouth with each deep, hacking sound. The two of them hadn’t known about the threat of irradiated sarin in that section until now.
“Mother Mary, no!” O’Shae said, “You bastard! You set us up!”
O’Shae glared at Digger, gaze filled with hate. Blood welled at the corners of his eyes and started to run down his cheeks. Digger didn’t bother to argue. He kept his gun on the two men in case they tried anything. Shooting them now would be an act of mercy but he was so horrified by the effects of the gas he hesitated. Homer stayed at Digger’s hip, watching with wide-eyed uncertainty.
Collapsing on all fours, Bitters vomited a stream of reddish-brown filth into the dirt. Crimson tears were running in tracks down his cheeks. O’Shae was racked by a fit of coughing and pieces of bloody, pink flesh flew from between his lips. He fell on his back, squirming, and didn’t seem likely to get back up.
The camera drones were circling above the buildings, capturing everything as it happened. Digger saw them and felt a wave of disgust. He’d killed men before, in war, or for survival. This was something else though, this sick execution for entertainment’s sake.
Bitters pawed at the assault rifle he’d dropped but his hands were floppy as the strength went out of them. With enough determination, he managed to get the rifle off the ground and wrap one hand around the hilt, the other around the barrel. Digger aimed in case Bitters was thinking of taking them with him. Through tears of blood and choking vomit, Bitters barely managed to turn the gun around. Resting the stock on the ground, he got his mouth over the barrel and wedged his numb fingers into the trigger. The burst blew the top of Bitters’ head off. He fell over surrounded by the green fog with the gun barrel in his mouth, blood drooling down the sides. His kill switch started wailing. Digger let his gun drop limply to his waist.
The kill switch on O’Shae’s arm went off as well with a shrill wail. Drugs were injected into his system although the gas had already done most of its work. They allowed O’Shae to gather himself up. His eyes were totally red, with blood cutting lines down the sides of his pale face, and he was still hacking up bits of flesh. O’Shae scrabbled at the bandoliers crossing his chest with renewed strength, and with his lips drawn back from reddened teeth he hurled a knife at Digger as a final act of vengeance. Digger was caught completely by surprise. He started to bring the UMP45 up to block but was too slow.
Digger closed his eyes and waited on the blow that didn’t come, for the steel to slice through his features and embed itself in his skull. It was a powerful throw and the knife had been missiling toward his face. Digger’s eyes opened and it was like time had frozen. After a few moments he realised it wasn’t time that was frozen, just the knife. It hung in the air, unattached to anything, only a handspan away from reaching Digger’s face.
O’Shae was struggling to get to his feet, kill switch drugs and adrenaline battling with the damage from the gas. Instinct took over and Digger whipped the UMP45 to his shoulder. He stepped around the knife and fired a long burst into O’Shae that climbed his body armour and caved in his face. He flipped over backward and fell into a gap between two of the shacks. The second trigger on O’Shae’s sleeve was tripped and, out of sight, he exploded. Surrounding shanties were flattened and an orange fireball billowed into the air, mixing with a column of green gas. The boom blew irradiated sarin back for a moment, creating a fresh clearing, but it was still slowly closing in on Digger and Homer on seemingly all sides.
The knife was vibrating in midair like a plucked guitar string, as if working out all its suddenly stalled kinetic energy. Digger swung around on Homer. The boy’s hand was outstretched as if he too had been frozen while trying to leap forward and catch the weapon. His fingertips were quivering on the same wavelength at the knife. Holding it there was obviously having some kind of strain on him, his eyes squinted as if he had a migraine. Finally his hand released and the knife dropped out of the air harmlessly, landing in the dust. Homer went limp.
The gas, the reveal of Homer’s ability, for a few moments it was all too much. Digger’s mind was thrown back to the night when his whole life had been destroyed, when he had been taken over and used like a tool to kill Wilson and the others. Bitters’ body, lying in the fog, became Wilson’s body. Instead of Bitters with a crater blown in the back of his head, Digger saw Wilson, facedown, blood pumping from his throat. He wanted to go to him, to help him, even though he was surrounded by the deadly fog. Caught between the past and the present, he rounded on Homer, aiming his gun.
“Fucking-, fucking freak! Fucking mutant freak! You do got those mind powers, you’re one of them!” Digger said, “Bloody psychic powers? Stopping things with your mind-, like that? I trusted you! Motherfucking mutant rat, who knows what else you could do! Get inside my mind like a-, like a fucking rat! Shitting-, fuck, freak, trying to use me.”
Digger’s words dissolved into random curses. His heart was pounding and the animal in his chest was screaming and clawing at his ribs. With one small tug on the trigger, he could end it all. Homer looked confused and frightened. Gas swirled closer like a living thing, death all around them. A small voice reminded Digger that he and Homer were linked. For a few moments, Digger didn’t care. Desire to end Homer was so strong it pulsed through his head, down the length of his arm and caused his trigger finger to twitch tighter and tighter.
Growling, Digger lowered his weapon and clawed at the sleeve on his right forearm. Digging his fingertips into the flesh, he tried to pry them under the lip of the sleeve. It wouldn’t budge. Holding the UMP45 in one hand, Digger yanked the knife off his chest and tried to wedge its tip under the bracelet instead, hardly noticing as he cut himself. A massive shock travelled through Digger’s body, paralysing him. He staggered back but managed to stay on his feet. The warning that contestants couldn’t attempt to remove the bracelet without getting shocked replayed in his head. Even if he was determined enough to saw through his own arm the sleeve wouldn’t let him.
Homer hadn’t moved the whole time Digger was caught in indecision. Digger was dimly aware of the green fog swirling around them. If he left it too long the gas would overtake them like Bitters and O’Shae, taking the decision out of Digger’s hands. Bitters’ body looked like Bitters’ body again, not Wilson. Digger trained the gun on Homer. His vision blurred like he was trying to focus on seeing the boy and the monster at the same time.
The boy had just saved Digger’s life with that power, the small voice in his head reminded him. Whether he knew what revealing himself would mean or not, Homer had only used the ability to save Digger from his own stupid mistake of letting his guard down. Digger lowered the gun. He had known he should be suspicious of the boy since their introduction but he’d fought alongside him anyway. The show of power had freaked Digger out but it was a small thing. The animal prowled around his chest, unsure.
“Right, right, either I pull this trigger or-, we keep going before this fucking gas gets us both anyway.” Digger said, “And I guess I’ve already made up my mind because it’d be faster to pull the trigger than keep talking about it so-, let’s go.”
Digger pulled Homer to his feet, dropping the gun to his side. He didn’t want to touch the boy after what he’d seen but did it without thinking. The stree
t they’d been retreating down was clear but on all other sides they were surrounded by encroaching walls of fog. Pushing Homer ahead of him, Digger took off down the street looking for a place to wait the gas out.
Chapter Ten
“Do you or someone you know have psychic powers?”
“Perhaps you can’t move things with your mind, or read the thoughts of others, yet. But if you’ve ever suspected that your lucky nature has another explanation. If you’re uncannily good at finishing other people’s sentences or consider yourself unusually empathetic. If you find déjà vu a daily occurance, the New United States military wants to hear from you.”
“Fear not, vetting, investigating and training potential operatives and soldiers with extranormal gifts has come a long way from the days of inhumane experimentation and vivisection. Learn how to unlock your full abilities and be the best you can be.”
Macbeth Madaki and Junior Du Preez had wanted to go after Digger Dundee and his young partner in revenge for Digger shooting at them. After defeating the mechs, however, the icon for a weapon drop appeared on their screens. It was in the opposite direction across Freeway Interchange. Surrounded by the smoking heaps of walking tanks, Madaki and Du Preez regarded their options.
“Come on, cousin, maybe they’ve got an upgrade for this shitty sparkler.” Du Preez lifted his Zeus series lightning gun, “You see how close I had to get to braai that mech? The range is for shit.”
“There’ll be more threats in the way.” Madaki said.
“Think we can handle that.” Du Preez said.
“We?” The former warlord chuckled, “Yes, but you’re correct. We should get to it before someone else lays claim, to use against us.”
The two of them set off from under the freeway overpass. More rusted hulks of vehicles and dusty skeletons cluttered the roads. Madaki and Du Preez didn’t run into any more mechs. Grey and featureless, the massive boundary wall stretched around the section and the rest of the city as they approached the outskirts.
“There it is, up ahead.” Du Preez said.
A curving, dead end street near the wall led them through a row of ramshackle buildings. The weapon drop icon was at the end of the block. A broken neon sign read ‘High Watts’. Madaki and Du Preez’s camera drones whirred along behind them.
“Looks like a house of ill repute.” Madaki said.
“Foking sexbot brothel is what it is.” Du Preez said, “Wonder why they put the weapon drop here.”
No robots or traps guarded the entryway. The entry hall was dark and their camera drones stayed outside, although there would be more cameras watching them inside the building. Up ahead they could only see a sliver of light. Madaki and Du Preez found a ragged, velvet curtain hanging at the end of the hall. From the other side they could hear movement and muffled, mechanical whirring.
Shushing his partner, Madaki took the lead and used the barrel of his shotgun to brush aside the curtain. They found themselves in what looked like a nightclub. Cleaning lights were switched on, leaving the cracked mirrors lining the walls and tawdry decorations exposed. A bar sat to one side, shelves behind the counter broken and collapsed, and a stage to the far end of the room. It looked more like a westernised strip club than a brothel.
Beautiful women prowled around the room in random patterns, at least half a dozen of them, a mix of African, European and Asian ethnicities. Dressed in skimpy clothing, mostly lingerie, they made the most of their assets. Patches of missing flesh and a stiff, clockwork jerkiness to their movements betrayed their true nature as sexbots. The sexbots looked like young women but they were aging and worn down. Sections of skin around their joints had peeled away to reveal metal endoskeletons beneath, and bits of wiring dangled out of old wounds. In unison, the robotic women stopped in place and turned to stare at Madaki and Du Preez.
“My stars! Don’t they grow them big where you come from?” The closest sexbot said.
The blonde sexbot fixed Madaki with a beaming smile. The effect was ruined by the fact its face had been damaged, half of it ripped away to reveal a grinning metal skull. A jewellike blue eye stared from out of a riveted eye socket. The sexbot was wearing an American flag bikini. It spoke in a US southerner accent but a buzzing sound undercut the words, like an old recording.
“What is this?” Madaki said.
“Leftovers it looks like, my friend.” Du Preez said, “Left from before the war, same as the mechs outside.”
Du Preez was grinning broadly, taking in the mechanical women in spite of their worn appearances. Madaki kept his shotgun between himself and the sexbots. In a jerky puppetshow display of sultriness, the sexbots started across the room. The blonde sexbot tried to drape itself across Madaki. Another one, a tall, black woman, Amazonian in stature, wearing stilettos and leather, attached itself to Du Preez. The South African mercenary was more receptive. The sexbot fingered the straps of his body armour.
“We’ve been waiting for a couple of a big, strong men like you to come along for such a long, long time.” The blonde sexbot buzzed.
“We don’t have time for this.” Madaki said.
“Come on, cousin, live a little.” Du Preez said, “Bet you had a whole harem of real, living bitches back in the old times, didn’t you? This is as good as it’s going to get in here.”
“Usually there’s some kind of challenge before getting to the weapons.” Madaki said.
“Maybe these plastic bitches are the challenge? Maybe we got to fok some answers out of them.” Du Preez pointed to the blonde sexbot with half her face missing, “You could put a paper bag over this one’s head, ey? Rest of her is still pretty good.”
Du Preez reached over and flicked the blonde sexbot’s hair away from its metal skull. He was enjoying the attention of the Amazon. Madaki grabbed the blonde sexbot by the shoulder and shoved it backward.
“Where are the weapons?” Madaki said.
“Oh, sugah, we are the weapons!” The sexbot said.
Suddenly, the sexbot lavishing attention on Du Preez grabbed him by the throat. Du Preez let out a strangled cry. Without apparent effort, the sexbot hefted him off his feet and held him in the air, choking him. The blonde sexbot moved to grab Madaki, its half-smile becoming sadistic. Madaki moved back a step, putting his shotgun between himself and the sexbot again, and he fired. Blasted in the chest, the sexbot was bowled over backward and flipped across a table.
The harsh cleaning lights suddenly turned off, plunging the room into near total blackness. At the same moment, music began blaring through overhead speakers at an almost deafening level. Strings of coloured lights lit up around the room. Spotlights whirled into life and fixed on the main stage. Sexbots continued toward the two men with renewed speed.
“Dance, baby! Come on, time to dance tonight! Dancing dance time!” The speakers roared.
“H-help!” Du Preez gagged.
Du Preez’s feet dangled above the floor. Thumping the action on his shotgun, Madaki wheeled around. The Amazonian sexbot didn’t react as Madak jammed the barrel into its elbow, which was already worn and showing its metal joint. Exploding, the shotgun blast carved through the sexbot’s arm. It stumbled backward, stump sparking below its bicep. Du Preez fell, managing to stay on his feet, and the sexbot’s hand stayed clamped around his throat until he yanked it loose. Du Preez tossed the severed arm aside.
“What the fok is going on?” Du Preez shouted.
“Dancey dancey dance tonight! Dancey dancey dancing time!” The speakers continued to blare.
The South African mercenary turned back on the curtain where they had entered, pulling it aside. A wall had appeared across the doorway. Du Preez ran his hands across it, looking for a handle or groove, but it appeared totally solid as if it had always been there. The exit was blocked and the sexbots were surrounding them.
“Over there, on the stage, there’s a button on the ceiling!” Madaki said.
Spotlights painted the stripper pole at the head of the room. It stretched high ov
erhead as they ran up and down then fixed on a large, red button. The button was placed on the ceiling so they would have to climb the pole to get to it.
“We’ve got to hit that button to stop all this, come on!” Madaki said.
With long strides, Madaki started across the club. With the doorway closed, Du Preez had no choice but to follow him. Du Preez recovered his nerves and raised the bulky lightning gun. Fortunately for the two men, although the gun hadn’t had enough juice to take down the armoured mechs without a long, sustained burst, it was more than enough for sexbots. Du Preez fired and blue lightning lashed out of the forked barrel, crackling and setting the air on fire. It hit two sexbots near the bar. Blue-white streaks of electricity jumped between the bots. Overloading, the bots erupted, bits of their machinery, sparks, stuffing and artificial flesh exploding across the club.
“Get to the stage!” Madaki yelled.
Madaki fired and blew apart another sexbot’s head. The sexbots were strong but came apart surprisingly easily. The head split into pieces, leaving behind a sparking stump with a jag of metal vertebrae sticking out of it. The decapitated sexbot didn’t fall over but instead reached for the gap where its head had been as it stumbled backward.
“What, you don’t like a little head?” A buzzy voice taunted.
The blonde sexbot in the American flag bikini, with a smoking crater in its chest, climbed back over the tables. Madaki ignored it and jumped onto the stage. Du Preez followed him, carrying his cumbersome lightning weapon. Electricity crackled on its forked tip. The music was deafening. Up on the raised platform, coloured lights swirled around the pair and spotlights got in their eyes, blinding them. More sexbots, reinforcements, came pouring out of the club’s backroom. Several more beautiful but worn down female bots and a couple of lean, pretty males.
“When I say ‘dance’ you say ‘dance’!” The music thundered, “Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance! When I say ‘dance dance’ you say ‘booty’! Dance dance, booty! Dance dance, booty!”
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