“Of course, we can’t forget our other contestants.” The first man said, “Sunni Skyez and the genetic aberrant, Alucard, putting up a good fight but the team of Boche and Uzi Kahneman absolutely dominating that City Center section.”
“Unfortunately, the former weather girl missed the mark on predicting that hail of bullets to her kneecaps! Or that it’d be raining men in the shape of her own partner.” The second commentator said.
“I think they call that grievous harm with a body, Rick.” The first said, “But getting back to Homo Superior Number Eleven and his partner. We saw earlier the first broadcast proof of psychic abilities resulting from lab experimentation, now it appears those injectors the kid is carrying around are definitely booster shots.”
“He played Frankie LaPalma like a fiddle and killed Lyncher Lee without breaking a sweat, Fred.” The second man said, “I don’t even have the words for what this kid could be capable of, we’re just going to have to wait and see!”
Digger stumbled to a stop, looking back over his shoulder at the roaring flames and whorling pillar of smoke where Frankie LaPalma had been standing. Homer came to a stop next to him. Camera drones, their original pair as well as two that had been following Lee and LaPalma, orbited around them.
Aches and pains from his fight with Lyncher Lee radiated through Digger’s body. In her exoskeleton, Digger had barely been able to make a scratch on Lee. Superpowered though, Homer had crushed the MMA fighter like a bug. Glancing down at Homer’s waist, Digger confirmed for himself that one of the white injectors was missing. Digger’s gun jerked toward Homer as if of its own accord, muzzle tracing the boy up and down. Homer didn’t seem to notice.
“You were controlling him like a puppet, and you took out Iron Bitch like it was nothing.” Digger said, “What else can you do?”
Homer looked around curiously and then reached for one of the camera drones hovering above the two of them. The drone stopped and then was pulled downward as if on a string. Its spinning engine stalled and choked but the drone kept hovering in midair. Homer held it at roughly the same height as Digger’s head.
Homer made a fist and then opened it, fingers outstretched. As he did so, the drone broke apart into a hundred smaller pieces. It hadn’t simply shattered, Digger realised. It had been disassembled, taken apart so that every individual component was separated and hanging in the air, gently turning. Tiny screws and bits of circuitry, rounded parts of the casing and the fanlike blades of the engine. It was like a holographic model showing how the drone was made but all real and solid. Terrified as he was by Homer’s strange abilities, there was a beauty to the fine control it required to take the drone apart so completely.
Homer spasmed, like he was holding a sneeze, and his control suddenly dropped. The myriad of parts from the camera drone fell away and hit the ground at Digger’s feet with a clatter. Digger could see some sort of power or fire had gone out from behind Homer’s eyes, almost indefinably.
“So that’s it, ey? Those needles, they supercharge up your-, gifts, or whatever, but it’s a limited time deal.” Digger said, “And you can-, you can make people do what they don’t want to do! Move shit around, take stuff apart or-, whatever that was. Bloody hell, how do I know you’re not controlling me then, ey? Maybe what stopped me from shooting you before, made me miss, that wasn’t me deciding anything, it was you? You inside my thinking box, mate? But then, if you are, why can I still think about it? Question it?”
Mute, Homer gestured vaguely as if trying to explain something to Digger. He pointed at his temple and then moved as if to touch Digger’s arm. Digger jerked back, bringing the gun in between them. Behind them, shacks were burning from LaPalma’s explosion. Pieces of their roofs fell into the flames. Black, oily smoke swirled into the air but fortunately there was no sign of a return from the green and poisonous gas. Not deterred, Homer withdrew but continued to talk with his hands. Digger couldn’t make any sense of it but the boy seemed more engaged and awake than before. The shot had stopped its effect on his powers but Homer seemed more alert.
“Unless-, you want me to question it, because then I’ll think I’m still in control when I’m not?” Digger said, “But then-, how could I think that, unless you want me to think that? Unless, you want to make me think that so I think-, that, nah, why would you? Unless that! You want me to think that!”
Homer had stopped moving his hands and the two of them stared at each other in mutual incomprehension. Digger wasn’t sure how long the silence stretched before the screens on their wrists bleeped. The maps had updated, showing the latest movements. Kali and Tanai had moved on and, of course, Lee and LaPalma had been wiped off the map. Boche and Uzi Kahneman were still lurking around City Center. More mysterious was the fact that the three teams that had landed in the Suburbia section hadn’t moved and were all grouped together in the middle of that part of the map. There was an opening between their section and Suburbia, however.
“Alright, bugger it, to be continued.” Digger said, “Suppose if I keep questioning reality too much we can solve it the old fashioned way. Put a bullet in my head, or yours, since it’s all the same with these kill switches.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Your government has a right to know.”
“Every day the men, women and otherwise conforming individuals of our armed services, border forces and Ministry of Thought put their lives on the line to keep you and your family safe. Do your part in defeating terrorism and social ills in these simple ways.”
● Have Your Urine / Stool / Blood and Sperm Samples Ready to Go in Government-Approved Vessels Only When Traveling Overseas or Interstate
“Too good to jerk off into a plastic cup, snowflake? That’s how the terrorists win!”
● Keep Your List of Sexual Partners and Emissions Up-To-Date at NUSA.gov
“Consent doesn’t count unless it’s between you, them, and your government!”
● Change the Batteries in the Thought Crime Detectors in Every Room of Your House Every Daylight Savings Day
“And remember! Failure to comply with any command issued by a law enforcement or government official is a crime. Criminals get what they deserve.”
“Engagement figures are way up!” One of the techs said, “People are debating all over the feeds whether what the contestant did was for real or us using CGI!”
Zachariah stood at the back of the round room, lording over tech stations and the holographic map of the arena. He was in total control. The irradiated sarin gas, mechs, mutated animals, and the contestants. The only thing he might admit he had no control over was the thing from the war they had found living in the church, and had walled inside the Suburbia section. But even then, if the creature didn’t start producing some quality television Zachariah always had the option of blowing the church with some explosives they’d managed to place under the building’s foundations, no doubt creating chaos amongst the contestants that were already its thralls.
On the screen at the head of the room, on the main broadcast feed, were highlights from the fight that had just ended. Lyncher Lee was picked up and launched into the concrete wall, and pinned by some unseen force. Footage was shown from multiple angles, from the camera drones and hidden lenses, as if to prove it couldn’t be faked. Microphones picked up the metal snapping, flesh and bones crunching, as a hole was punched into Lee’s chest by an invisible fist. The woman choked blood and died.
“Sir, sir, scanners have picked up movement outside the walls.” A technician said, “I’ve just checked the cameras, there are two vehicles closing in fast on the arena.”
“What? Put it up on the main screen.” Zachariah said.
Cameras ringed section walls on the outskirts of the arena, pointing out onto desert and the world beyond the game. They were not on any of the public feeds. The tech threw the camera they had just mentioned to the main screen. A couple of seasons ago, Slayerz had come under attack by protesters from People for the Ethical Treatment of People,
who had opposed the show ever since it had been conceived. Fortunately, the first stages of their attack had been firing missiles over the walls which only dropped leaflets declaring their intent, and then sending in individuals armed with graffiti cannons to paint messages of protest across the arena. It was only when the game was almost over that they’d become a real problem.
The arena was cut off, in the middle of nowhere. The dust storm created earlier by the fallen airship’s fusion explosion had faded away, along with its glow on the horizon. Cameras on the arena wall picked up two streamers of dirt being kicked up by a pair of trucks. Both trucks were made of two brick-shaped compartments connected by an armoured accordion middle, with narrow window slits and massive wheels. They looked far too military for civilian protesters. The two of them were tearing toward the arena without hesitation.
“Send the drones, the gunships, to intercept.” Zachariah said, “Turn them back or blow them into the dirt.”
Both hulking trucks tore across the hard-packed earth until they had to pull into the shadow of the massive, curving walls. The arena was hidden behind them. They prowled along as if looking for a weak point.
Inside the trucks, mercenaries from across the border were ready for action. Behind the cabin of each truck, in the first compartment, were rows of seats for the soldiers to strap themselves into. The rear compartment was filled with weaponry and supplies. Clad in white armour with black joints, most of the mercs were wearing helmets with black faceplates that completely hid their features. Apart from their different sizes, the only things that distinguished the mercenaries one from another were names stenciled on the left sides of their breastplates. Their leader, the tall woman with the prosthetic arm, was wearing a white helmet but still had her face exposed. She leaned over the front seats into the cabin, studying the vehicles’ scanners.
“Find the section with the most contestants alive.” The merc leader said, “That’s where we’ll go in.”
As they were driving, a pair of drone gunships moved in overhead. Hawkish and predatory, all sharp angles with downwardly slanted wings. VTOL engines roared, keeping them aloft. At terrific speed they screamed around the walls of the arena. AI steering the crafts picked up the twin armoured vehicles and swung around, shrieking, dominating the air.
Cameras were mounted above the gunships’ hooked noses, where the cabin would have been on a manned aircraft. Also under their noses were a couple of massive speaker systems. One drone’s speakers squealed to be heard over their engines.
“You are currently trespassing on privately held land.” The drone said, “There is no law in this region, this warning is only a courtesy. Withdraw within the next ten seconds or you will be destroyed. Ten. Nine. Eight.”
Twin miniguns were slung under the gunships’ wings. Their barrels started to spin. Panels opened under both wings as well. Beeping missiles with glowing tips, small but powerful, lowered out of the openings, bristling with intimidating force.
“Weapons up, fire when ready.” The merc leader said.
Both trucks had been forced to stop. From their rear sections, a pair of enormous, rectangular cannons began to rise. Former mining lasers, the cannons had been repurposed and fitted flush with the rear compartments of each armoured vehicle on pneumatic mounts. The aiming system of each cannon fixed on one of the two drones and started to swivel into place.
The first drone was still counting down but instantly recognised the rising cannons as a threat and opened fire. Four miniguns erupted at once with a howling scream that even drowned out the gunships’ hovering engines. Tracer bullets, glowing orange, showed the passage of scores of rounds tearing out of the barrels and battering the two vehicles but they bounced off their armoured hides, ricocheting. Both drones, simultaneously, unleashed missiles from pods under their wings as their AI elevated the threat. The missiles shattered harmlessly against the sides of the armoured trucks and the lasers that were rising into position. Brilliant fireballs sent shockwaves rippling through the desert but the vehicles were unmoved.
With a searing flash, the mining laser emerging from one of the armoured personnel carriers fired, followed by the second. The gunships did nothing to evade the blasts. Carving through the drones, the lasers disintegrated both craft in midair. Twin fireballs sent shrapnel raining to earth.
“Alright, continue scanning.” The merc leader said.
xXx
Digger and Homer headed for the tunnel between the Shantytown and Suburbia sections immediately after their fight with Lee and LaPalma. It was similar to the first tunnel they had crossed through. The concrete corridor stretched between two walled sections, mostly featureless except for air vents in the ceiling. The tunnel sloped down and then upwards, climbing until they could see sunlight at the other end.
Emerging into sunlight, Digger used his UMP45 to sweep from side to side. The tunnel arrived on what seemed to be a main road but unlike the roads in Shantytown it was paved with black asphalt and painted. Everything was dead silent but it didn’t strike Digger the same way Shantytown had. They were surrounded by gated communities and large houses, real houses, behind tall, solid walls. It was still and, after Shantytown, almost sterile. No piles of garbage or skeletons in rotting clothing clogged the streets. Some lawns behind the walls were overgrown in tangles, or dead, but others were as green and neatly trimmed as they would have been the day they were laid. Even dust seemed to have been swept clear from the streets and sidewalks. Compared to the filth of Shantytown, Suburbia was as clean and orderly as a furniture showroom. Camera drones hovered over the two of them, their whirring engines sounding very loud in the quiet.
“Head on a swivel, my old son, we know those three pairs of arseholes are hanging about in here somewhere, and no idea what cute little surprises this place could have waiting. Can’t be worse than that gas, am I right? Not by half.” Digger said, “It’s alright, mate, I’ve got plenty of bullets left, last mag but-, you know, you’ve got two of those needle-things which seems like it should be more than enough. Turn on those mind bullets and take them out. Some shit going on here, mark my words.”
The grey wall behind them cut through roads, gated subdivisions and even houses like a knife. A hissing sound almost made Digger jump as they moved down the street. An automatic sprinkler system had emerged from the middle of one neatly trimmed lawn. Ticking, the sprinkler sprayed clouds of water. Somehow, it was still running and hooked up to a waterline. A few moments later a loud mechanical buzzing sound came from the other side of the street. A large, black dome was moving over another lawn, this one dead and brown. An automatic lawn mower going about its rounds. It sounded like their camera drones but much louder.
“That’s why this place looks pretty neat and tidy, even after people have been out of here for years. Robots are keeping the place schmick, keep running out their routines just like the mechs back in the Freeway.” Digger said, “Sprinklers, mowers, I don’t know what else, but these rich folks had all sorts of automatics to replace the proles that used to work for them. Why risk human fucking interaction when you’ve got the cash to splash, ey? Plus these babies keep running like the energiser bunny via solar power or whatever while all the poor people have the nerve to up and turn corpse.”
A large, blocky shape circled around the corner. It was a square vehicle with two massive tyres that seemed to balance easily. Two bristly attachments at the front of the vehicle spun, sweeping the gutters clean. There was a windshield on the front but the cabin was empty, the streetsweeper automated as well. Letting it get closer, Digger aimed his UMP45 and fired, putting a tight burst through the front of the vehicle where he estimated its electronic brain would be. The streetsweeper juddered to a stop, its whirling brushes slowing and stopping. Digger took a few steps backward, shielding his face and covering Homer, expecting the streetsweeper to explode. It remained where it was, inert, with wisps of smoke wafting out of the bullet holes.
“If that’s the best they got in terms of-, I do
n’t know, threats or whatever, it’s a bit bloody disappointing, isn’t it?” Digger said.
Digger checked his map again to see where they were in comparison to the other teams. The three Suburbia teams, all massed together, hadn’t moved according to the last update. A weapon drop had appeared on the map across the other side of Suburbia, close to the wall. They would have to head straight through the middle of the section to get to it but it was just what they needed.
Digger opened his mouth but suddenly a random thread of thought seemed to run through his head. When he tried to catch it, the thought drew him deeper, formless, with a feeling he couldn’t articulate. Numbness washed over his mind like anesthesia. After a few seconds, Digger felt only dimly aware of his own body. He turned toward a sound that seemed to emanate from both inside and outside his head. It pointed him across Suburbia.
“You hear that, mate? That music, coming from-, over this way.” Digger said.
Mumbling, Digger started down the road past the damaged streetsweeper. The thought of fighting the impulse never even took root in his mind. Homer tagged along but he didn’t seem to hear the music, and was not under its spell. Helmet wobbling, he darted in Digger’s shadow, face covered in concern. Every few moments he would start to reach for the Australian but then pull his hand away, remembering Digger’s violent unpredictability.
Every step that Digger took the music got that little bit louder. The sound was like nothing he had ever heard before. It was the song that seismic plates sung to one another as they moved in places miles below the earth. It was the music from spaces between stars. Even his inner animal, which should have recoiled at the feeling of the leash, was purring and enthralled. His face wore an expression of bliss, smile cutting through his trimmed beard. Homer, forgotten, moved through streets of empty homes and gates of cloistered communities.
Kill Switch: Final Season Page 15