“There’s more of them!” Tommy said.
Tommy aimed his beam of light further down the tunnel. A hatch opened midway down the passage and unleashed a dozen or more of the bots. Their cutting laser attachments started to glow, one after the other, in the darkness.
“We’ve been in worse situations than this.” Layla said.
“Have we?” Tommy said.
Scuttling forward, the bots began to unleash a barrage of burning, blue lasers. Layla and Tommy were forced to duck and weave as they fired back. The big soldier was slowed by her barely functional mechanics, her left side creaking. The two of them raised their weapons, short on ammo, and fired back with everything they had.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“From the moment you’re born, your body is in a constant state of decay. Escape your flesh prison and ascend by becoming a being of pure energy.”
A cartoon shows a featureless human shape sliding into a large white pod, like a deprivation chamber. It is bombarded with bright green arrows until it starts to disintegrate.
“At Ascendance Incorporated, we kickstart the process to get you a rung up on the evolutionary ladder. Inside one of our special ascendance pods, your soon-to-be-irrelevant human body is treated with rays of gamma radiation until it liquifies and dissipates entirely, releasing you from your earthly shell and birthing you onto the astral plane in a glorious expulsion of light and energy.”
“So what’s it like being an energy being? Let’s just say we haven’t had any complaints! In fact none of our former customers or original test subjects have ever communicated back to us here on earth, no doubt because being an energy being means their mental state is as far above us as we are to bacteria.”
Buildings had taken a battering around the edges of City Center but apart from their windows most were in one piece. Some had roofs and walls sheared off and scattered, however. Others slumped, already damaged and now collapsing in on themselves after the blastwave from the mini-nuke rocked the arena like an earthquake. Behind one building right near the wall, rubble shifted. A large pile breathed in and stones rolled off the top, revealing a slab of concrete that must have weighed close to a tonne. Seesawing, the slab rose out of a hollow in the ruins.
Grunting, Boche heaved, head crooked, arms and shoulders flattened against the underside of the slab. With superhuman strength, Boche lifted it over a hole created in the ruins between falling structures. Boche and Uzi Kahneman had taken shelter in the hole when the nuclear blast happened and been buried in rubble. Tipping the slab backward, he shoved and it landed with a loud crack, breaking in half.
Boche’s pale skin was lobster red, as if he’d been staked out in the sun for days. Boils broke out across his face and hands. His blonde, stiff hair was wildly eschew. No longer belted around the middle, Boche’s leather coat was ragged and melting off of him. Lifting the slab left the supersoldier exhausted and he slumped against the edge of the hole, wheezing.
“Son of a whore.” Kahneman gasped as he straightened behind Boche.
Kahneman hadn’t been roasted by the flash of the miniature nuke like Boche. Instead, the swarthy man looked pale and sallow. Curls hung limp around his face. Trying to stand, he lost his equilibrium and staggered sideways. Kahneman retched, squeezing his eyes closed. When nothing came up, Kahneman reached inside his mouth and ran a finger around his teeth. The tip came away bloody, his gums starting to run red.
“I almost suffocated down there.” Kahneman said.
Boche muttered something in German. Bending down, he picked up his orange chainsaw and pulled himself out of the rubble.
“Suppose you’d like that, to see me choke? You Nazi fuck.” Kahneman said, “Hapess me sheh ya-enay-otcha.”
Kahneman recovered his pair of Uzi submachine guns from the bottom of the hole. He checked the load in both. His outfit was roughshod and covered in dust. Squinting, Kahneman could feel a burning headache behind his eyes.
“What now?” Boche said.
Something warbled through the clouds of murk sifting between buildings. Although most of the show’s supply of backup camera drones had been destroyed a large black drone hovered toward them, armoured, the same kind the mercenaries had been met with earlier. Hologram-projecting spikes ran around the bottom of the drone. The pair watched carefully as the drone stopped before them. Lines glimmered off the spikes and resolved themselves into Zachariah Hawthorne. Hands swept over his scalp, smoothing his hair.
“You, the schwarzkopf.” Boche said, “What do you want?”
“You know, usually the head producer doesn’t exactly trouble himself to talk one on one with you contestants.” Zachariah said, “But cameras are down in this area and-, well, maybe I want to help you.”
“Help us? I don’t know what the hell is going on with this game but that blast nearly killed us, without giving us a chance to fight!” Kahneman broke down coughing for several moments, “You’ve fucking poisoned us!”
“See, you’re out of the loop.” Zachariah said, “The nuke was not part of my game, in fact it spoiled my third act considerably! We have been invaded.”
As Boche and Uzi Kahneman had remained in City Center the entire game, and been trapped under rubble since the blast, they had no real idea about what was happening with the mercenaries and game. Zachariah recapped about Layla Jackson, the mercs, the mini-nuke and PETP. He left out the other contestants being disconnected from the game. As he spoke, his hologram changed to replay key snatches of what he was telling them. Layla shouldered a FatBoy miniature nuke launcher, destroying the office behind her as she fired, and a mushroom cloud ripped apart the central arena.
“I gave you a chance at freedom, at being heroes to billions!” Zachariah said, “They’re the ones who almost exterminated you without a second thought!”
“So, what? Why are you telling us this yourself?” Kahneman said.
“Because the show is all that matters, the show must go on!” Zachariah said, “Eliminate them, win the day, and we’ll have the medication to fix your current condition right up.”
“Why not airdrop it to us now?” Kahneman pressed.
“I’m afraid the nuke wiped out a lot of our options.” Zachariah said, “But look to your maps, more information is coming soon.”
xXx
On the far side of the City Center section, the tunnel deposited Digger and Homer back in Towers. The grey wall stretched over them. Digger kept his gun raised as they headed back down the road to where they’d parted ways with the others. Empty windows stared at the two of them from all angles. Digger tapped the screen on his sleeve.
“This thing is bloody useless.” Digger said.
The screen had all remaining contestants on the map but didn’t seem to be updating properly. It showed Boche and Uzi Kahneman in the section behind them, apparently hidden. Echo Three, DFN and Bolt were still in the Towers section, but they should have been within sight, along with the other mercenaries, if they were really where the map showed them. Dr Klou was nowhere to be seen.
“Any sense of where they went? You want to do that voodoo that you don’t do so well?” Digger turned to Homer, “No? Alright, keep your head on a swivel.”
Digger wondered if it was worth the effort to try tracking the others down. They knew where the exit to the arena was, the hole that the mercenary outfit had blown through the outer wall of the arena. He and Homer would just have to return across Suburbia. With most of the other contestants killed, security crippled, and whatever the thing in the church had been also dead, there should be little in the way to stop them.
“Come on, mate, back the way we were.” Digger said, “We get to the crater they blew in the wall and we can get the fuck out of here. They had vehicles with them, either we steal one of those or-, I’m sure I can get us across the desert to civilisation, I’ve done it before.”
Digger started back down the road to where they had fought Dozer, Taka and the mutant lions. Homer followed but seemed to be watching the
Australian warily.
“What?” Digger said, “This again? I’m pretty sure they’ve got two trucks so even if we take one of them-, well there’s a lot fucking less of them to drive out of here anyway, isn’t there? For all we know, the others had to take off because of another one of those civvie mechs and they’re already back at the trucks, waiting. Maybe they’re all fucking dead too, I don’t know. It’s not our problem, you and me are going to get out of here and survive, because I don’t know about you but that’s how I do things.”
A burst of gunfire ripped through the air. Bullets struck the ground at Digger’s feet. Puffs of dirt and tiny pieces of asphalt sprayed Digger’s lower legs as he automatically retreated backward. Digger shouldered his UMP45 and spun in place. He couldn’t tell where the shots had come from.
“Move!” Digger said.
Digger shoved Homer toward one of the nearest buildings. Another short burst hit before Digger could run far. Aim adjusted, the bullets socked Digger in the right side of the chest. The armour caught them but Digger wheeled back as the impacts broke a rib. Gasping, the big Australian kept his footing. This time, he caught where the shots had originated. Muzzle flashes lit up one of the windows in the lower level of a nearby office tower.
“I’ve had enough of this shit!” Digger said.
Digger swept around with the UMP45, firing one-handed. Bullets raked through windows where the shooter was perched. Digger and Homer ran for the sidewalk and took cover behind the nearest building. Digger tucked his arm against his ribs to protect them. Homer ducked behind his partner, staying low. Keeping hold of his UMP45, Digger planned out his next move.
“Alright, Homer old mate, when I break across the street you find a place to hide and stay there. Stay there until you hear me calling you to come out, got it?” Digger said, “I don’t know who’s left to keep shooting at us but I’m going to find out.”
Homer kept staring at Digger but he knew by now the boy understood. Struggling to breathe, Digger darted into the street with his UMP45 against his shoulder. As he fired, recoil reverberated through his chest and it felt like the broken rib was scratching across raw flesh like a record needle skipping over grooves of vinyl. Digger kept shooting into the window where his attacker had fired from, and the windows surrounding it. Glass exploded into slivers and rained into the street. As Digger ran for the front doors of the office tower there was another, longer burst from the shattered windows on the second level but it went wild over his head.
Glass doors at the front of the tower had collapsed. Digger moved across the lobby with shards crunching underfoot. He took aim at the ceiling then whipped around, jogging to the stairwell. He didn’t know who the shooter was. He thought it could be Klou, not knowing the good doctor was sitting braindead in a mech not too far away, but it seemed a bit too bold for him. It didn’t make sense to be one of the security troopers.
Taking the stairs two at a time, Digger vaulted toward the second floor. The stairwell and the second floor were dark. An occasional set of lights flickered along the ceiling. When Digger reached the floor there was another burst that assaulted Digger’s ears, tearing into the corner by his head. On instinct, Digger ducked and fired back.
“This ain’t AFL, they don’t give points for getting close!” Digger yelled.
Digger got a glimpse of smooth, white armour covering his opponent from head to toe. It was the same armour Layla, Tommy and all the mercenaries had been wearing. Their face was covered by a helmet and black faceplate.
“What the fuck?” Digger said, “Aren’t you meant to be on our side?”
“I was never on your side, Dundee!” Digger recognised the voice as Ellis, the mercenary with a grudge.
“What happened to the others?” Digger said.
“Ridley is dead, and probably all the others too!” Ellis said, “Not my problem anymore, I got my advance and now I’m getting the fuck out of this hellhole gameshow. When I saw a chance to nail your ass before I left though, I just couldn’t resist!”
Ellis fired another short burst with his assault rifle, bullets ripping through the wall Digger was using for cover. Digger rolled into open space, firing. His heavier calibre bullets thundered across the office and smashed through cubicle walls, old computers, and a copier machine. The copier imploded and a spray of black ink spewed across the carpet and wall behind the machine. Digger kept rolling to a spot behind a set of metal shelves before Ellis could return fire.
“Goddamn, Ellis, I thought we’d squared all that out, and you and me were pals now!” Digger said, “Didn’t we have that nice chat when we cleared the air? You opened up to me about your dream of getting home, using your pay from this job to start a cupcake shop and booking a perfect wedding with your childhood sweetie? You were finally going to propose!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ellis said.
“Was that not you? It’s hard to tell you all apart in those helmets and shit.” Digger said, “Wait, which one are you again? The one with the fucked up nose?”
“Keep laughing, asshole! After I get out of here I’m heading back stateside, getting my ear fixed, and you and that mute little freak will be left in here to rot!” Ellis said.
The broken copier was still pumping black ink in a weakening stream onto the carpet. The merc in white armour stalked around the end of the hallway, squeezing off a short burst. Rounds rattled the shelving Digger was hidden behind. Ellis reached around his side, to the pack attached to his armour. A grenade rolled out of a compartment at the bottom of the pack and into his waiting hand. Ellis unpicked the ring from the dense, grey cylinder and tossed it across the office. It hit the ground and spun on the carpet to where Digger was sheltered.
“Fuck!” Digger yelled.
Digger threw his leg out at the grenade, hitting it with his boot. The grenade spun, hitting a wall and then ricocheting off in another direction. Digger scrambled to get away. Ellis fired a short burst after the Australian and then took cover.
The grenade exploded, tearing through another office cubicle. Low, flimsy walls were shredded by shrapnel and blown apart like a bursting balloon. Pieces of the computer and desk were launched straight up, crashing into the ceiling, and flaming papers filled the office. The shelving that Digger had been hidden behind was thrown over and smashed on the floor, files scattering. Digger was on his hands and knees near the office’s broken windows, scrabbling to get clear.
Ellis straightened, sweeping the room with his rifle. He stalked around the blasted office cubicle, flames and smoke pouring off the debris. The gun snapped from side to side but he’d lost track of Digger.
Suddenly, the Australian reappeared, popping up behind another cubicle wall with his UMP45 on his shoulder. The gun erupted and bullets stitched up Ellis’ chest. The man stumbled backward but even Digger’s heavy slugs failed to breach his armour plating. Digger fired a second short burst directly into Ellis’ chest but the armour remained intact. Ellis recovered and looked up. Digger could feel him grinning through his opaque faceplate. As they had seen earlier, the mercenaries’ armour was much better than anything given to Slayerz contestants or even to the Slayerz security troopers. Covering him completely, it gave him a considerable advantage over Digger now that they had both confirmed it would withstand even the UMP45’s heavy slugs.
“Shit.” Digger said.
“What are you going to do now, asshole?” Ellis said.
Digger pulled the barrel of his submachine gun up and fired, just once. The slug ricocheted off Ellis’ faceplate. The man let out a short yell and reeled back, disoriented, even though the rounded mask remained intact. While Ellis was dazed, Digger ran at him. Ellis swept around, firing wildly, but Digger circled around the shots and threw himself into Ellis.
Swinging the butt of his UMP45, Digger hit Ellis in the joint between his neck and his shoulder. Ellis folded in on himself, arms curled up. Digger swung his gun into Ellis’ assault rifle and knocked it out of his gloved hands. The rif
le hit the floor and Digger kicked it, sending it flipping out of reach. Digger tried to find one of the joins in Ellis’ armour to jam the muzzle into but Ellis grabbed the weapon. The hot metal smoked against Ellis’ gloves. Ellis headbutted Digger with his helmet, Digger seeing a surprised reflection of his own features in the black faceplate before it smashed into his nose and brow. Digger’s head was thrown backward and Ellis wrenched the UMP45 out of his grip, tossing it aside along with his own assault rifle.
“Motherfucker!” Digger said.
Blood dripped from Digger’s nose and his vision was swimming. Ellis started to draw his sidearm. Lurching forward, Digger managed to grab Ellis’ wrist before the gun had cleared its holster. The two of them wrestled for the gun and it bucked, firing a bullet into the floor. Driven by Digger, Ellis stumbled back into an inoperable elevator and Digger twisted his arm, slamming it into the corner of the doors. The armour locked up, however, and Digger couldn’t twist the limb until it broke. Ellis snarled but couldn’t overpower him either. The gun erupted several more times, hitting the floor and wall across from them. Ellis clawed at Digger’s face. Wrestling, Ellis released the gun and it was thrown loose, skittering across the floor.
“You piece of shit, I don’t need a gun to kill you! I’ll carve you up, you prick!” Ellis said.
Ellis headbutted Digger again, more clumsily this time as Digger turned aside and took the blow on the side of his head instead of flush in the face. Ellis reached for a tactical knife sheathed opposite his empty holster. He whipped it out, seven straight inches of hard, black steel. Digger had to release the merc and back away as he brought it around.
“That’s not a knife.” Digger grabbed the large combat knife strapped to his vest, “This is a knife!”
“Oh, so you can say it but when I make a joke, I get my fucking ear chewed off?” Ellis said, “I’m going to slice off both your ears and stick them up your asshole, so you can listen to me kicking your ass up close!”
Kill Switch: Final Season Page 33