Flip (The Slip Trilogy Book 3)

by David Estes

  Geoffrey continues to listen and observe the difference in his two friends’ reactions to the same event. They both started off in mourning, their shared sobs and sadness seeming to strengthen the bond between them. At the time, Geoffrey wondered if there was something wrong with him. Because he felt nothing but fiercely hot anger. He wondered what his heart would look like if he could pluck it from his chest and inspect it. He guessed it would be black and shriveled, burned from the fire raging inside of him.

  Now he’s not so sure.

  Maybe his reaction was normal, and it just took Check longer to get there. Maybe Rod will join them in their fury soon enough. But for now it appears as if Rod is sinking into a pit of despair, a feeling he knows he once experienced, even if the memory seems distant and fleeting now.

  “I know,” Rod says, turning over to stare at the wall, his eyes hidden. “It’s weird even for him.”

  “Then why?” Check asks.

  “I don’t know!” Rod suddenly shouts, his hand lashing out to punch the wall. On impact, he hisses sharply through his teeth and retracts his fist, cradling it in his other hand. “Dammit,” he mutters. “It doesn’t matter, okay? Just drop it.”

  Check finally stops pacing to glare at his friend, who isn’t even looking at him. “No, I won’t drop it. Someone’s got to pay for this. I’m not going to wallow in this botforsaken place when I could be out there doing something. Our mission is in two days, and I plan to be a major part of it.”

  “Do what you have to do,” Rod says, but all fight is gone from his voice, which drops to a whisper. “But I’m staying here.”

  “I will,” Check says. “I always do. Geoffrey, no matter what happens, you stay with Rod.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Rod growls.

  Check’s voice softens for the first time since he began his tirade. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, man, I’ve got to do this, and I need to know that you guys will be waiting for me when I come back. Can you promise that?”

  Geoffrey looks him in the eyes. “Yeah,” he lies. “No problem.”

  “Yeah. Be safe,” Rod mumbles into his pillow, before the tears begin flowing again.

  Check slams the door and stomps away. With that kind of rage and determination flowing through his friend’s blood, Geoffrey knows he’ll be an asset to his upcoming mission. Together they’ll destroy those who have taken everything from them.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Harrison isn’t only doing this for his brother. He hardly knows Check and Rod, but he’s had some good times with them. They turned out to be decent guys, in the end. And if nothing else, Luce’s brother Geoffrey deserves better than being stuck with the Lifers. He’s only a kid, after all.

  As usual, it didn’t take much for Harrison to convince his old tech-savvy buddy, Wire, to help him. He’s smart, but greedy. Harrison transferred all of his remaining funds to Wire’s untraceable LifeCard, and Wire sent him the Lifer’s location. And it’s not even that far away. Harrison couldn’t help but laugh when he saw where it was. They’re practically neighbors.

  Now, as he and Simon step out into the overgrown yard behind the ramshackle house, Harrison wonders how many other structures in this neighborhood are sheltering rebel groups. Apparently this is the safe house section of the city.

  Before they left, they plotted and memorized a course to the location Wire provided. With any luck, they won’t run into any trouble and have to improvise. Unfortunately, Harrison muses, I’ve been a bit short on luck lately.

  In front of him, Simon leads the way to a gate exiting the fenced-in backyard. The giant is hobbling even more after the blows to the stomach he took during the car chase, but Harrison doesn’t doubt for one second the Canadian’s ability to fight through the pain. It’s taken time, arguments, and punching each other in the face a few times for Harrison to develop a grudging respect for his partner on this mission, but it’s better late than never. He won’t admit it anytime soon, but his old enemy is far closer to a friend now.

  Simon inches the gate open and peers out. Evidently seeing nothing of concern, he swings it wider and steps out. His gorilla-like hand never leaves his hip, where a hefty stun gun is clipped into a black holster. Harrison has his own weapon, but he’d rather not touch it for fear of blowing off his own foot. Although he did what he had to do during their race across town, he’d prefer not to shoot anything or anyone in the near future.

  The first part of the journey feels the most dangerous. Aboveground, Harrison is nothing more than an exposed rabbit, racing along an alleyway. For all he knows a Hawk could be tracking their progress from an invisible height, calling it in to a posse of Crows or Hunters who are already triangulating their position.

  He tries not to think about it, matching Simon’s lumbering pace as he stays in the shadows cast by the fence lines of the various rundown properties they pass. When they reach the end of the block, they stop, making eye contact. Simon points to himself, then across the street. Me first, Harrison knows he means. This is not the time for a pissing match, so he doesn’t argue, just nods once.

  He taps his gun. I’ll cover you, he mouths.

  Simon takes off, his feet slapping the pavement far louder than Harrison would like, but probably as softly as the enormous man is capable of. An elephant would be quieter; he’s simply not built for stealth.

  Harrison holds his breath until he watches Simon all the way into the shadow of a large tree on the other side, where he turns and motions for him to follow. Harrison takes a deep breath and then goes, sprinting across on silent tiptoes, praying not to hear sirens blaring to life behind him. He reaches Simon safely, and they take a moment to catch their breaths. Slow and steady. Two more dangerous crossings and they’ll reach the next phase of the journey.

  The second crossing goes much like the first. Quiet and fast. The whole lockdown/martial law thing has its benefits for them. For everyone else, not so much.

  Simon is about to step from cover at the third crossing, but Harrison, spotting movement, grabs his arm. Harrison points to the left when Simon fires him an annoyed look, and they shrink into the deep shadows cast by a stone wall, crouching like gargoyles. The Crow car isn’t moving fast, but not slow either, just cruising along the deserted streets, on a routine patrol.

  Harrison’s heart is pounding in his chest, but it’s not fear. It reminds him of the adrenaline-pulsing feeling he used to get on the hoverball field. He’s ready for action, whether it’s to run or fight. His fists hang tight at his sides. Beside him, Simon silently draws his weapon.

  As the vehicle approaches their corner, it slows. Game time, Harrison thinks, drawing his own weapon.

  However, just when Harrison’s entire body tenses as he prepares to spring into the open, it’s Simon’s turn to grab him, blocking him with a branch-like arm. Harrison’s breath catches in his throat and the Crows turn left, racing off away from them, blue lights flashing.

  “Son of a bot,” Harrison mutters.

  “Yeah,” Simon says. “They never saw us. We got lucky.” Harrison knows he’s correct. A right turn would’ve brought the vehicle close enough for its passengers to easily see them regardless of the shadows. He wonders if his luck is finally changing.

  After waiting several minutes to be sure there’s no second Crow car following after the first one, they cross the intersection, sneaking into an empty commercial district that would typically be teeming with activity this time of day. Signs on shop windows read Closed for Lockdown. According to Minda’s holo, only one hour of trade is permitted each day, and during that time every Crow in the city is patrolling the streets. Some of the businesses have taken precautions against looters, boarding up their windows or pulling metal gates over their doors. As it turns out, the extra measures are unnecessary; even the hooligans are evidently too scared of being caught on the streets.

  They duck into an alleyway when a food delivery truck ambles by, an announcement blaring from a speaker on the roof. “Spea
k ‘lockdown food delivery’ into your holo to order supplies during the lockdown. All items are fifty percent off during the crisis. President Ford is committed to the health and comfort of the citizens of Saint Louis during this difficult time.”

  “Ha,” Simon says under his breath. “The legal citizens maybe.”

  As they wait for the truck to pass well out of sight, Harrison nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a clatter behind them. Simon whirls around, his weapon drawn and aimed, but he lets out a heavy sigh/laugh when he sees the culprit. A white-furred BotDog prances up, barking metallically, its stubby tail wagging with a mechanical whir. Although he knows it’s a robot, it looks so much like a real dog that from a distance he wouldn’t be able to tell. Even the fur is puppy-soft when he gently strokes it. A strangely wet tongue extends from its mouth and it attempts to lick Simon, who jumps back, a look of disgust on his face.

  “Not an animal lover?” Harrison laughs, letting the robot lick his hand and face. “Good girl,” he says. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

  “It’s a machine,” Simon says.

  “And yet so cute,” Harrison says, scratching behind its ears. “And”—Harrison deepens his voice, like the ad readers on the holo—“our BotDogs contain a patented affection algorithm, which allows them to form a very real bond with their owners. It’s not like having a real dog, it’s better!” He lowers his voice and speaks rapidly. “Payment plans available. Own your own BotDog for less than $20,000.”

  Simon stares at him like he’s crazy. “I think you watched too much holo as a kid.”

  Harrison offers his best puppy dog face. “Please Daddy, can I keep her?”

  “It’ll make too much noise.”

  “She’s a she, not an it.”

  “How do machines have gender?”

  Harrison reaches out and pinches the bot’s tag between his fingers. “My name is Lola,” he reads. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t know many males named Lola.”

  Simon shakes his head. “Don’t get too attached.” The dog barks again and the big man cuts his eyes back to the street, to see if anyone noticed.

  “Lola,” Harrison says, looking her in the eyes. “Quiet. No barking. Silent walking.” Immediately the BotDog goes quiet, even its tail wagging with less noise.

  “Doesn’t change anything,” Simon says. “Too risky.”

  “She’s well-trained,” Harrison says. “Nothing beats an obedient dog. Even the Crows use them.”

  Simon looks like he wants to smash their heads together, but instead he just walks away, muttering something about Harrison being ‘impossible’ under his breath. Harrison just smiles and says, “C’mon girl. Quiet as a mouse.”

  They make their way quickly down the next block, and to Harrison’s satisfaction, Lola is so quiet he almost forgets she’s there. “Stage two,” Simon hisses when they reach the door leading to the Tunnels.

  Simon eases the door closed behind them, and then leads them down a dingy switchback staircase littered with shattered holo-screens, broken electronic cigarettes, and cut up LifeCards. He’s never been down here before. He knows some kids from school used the Tunnels as a safe place to hang out and get drunk or high, but he always avoided that scene. Too much was riding on his perfect academic and athletic record. Scholarships, college, his future. He would do everything in his power to gain independence from his father and show him what kind of son he’d been ignoring all his life.

  So much for that, he thinks wryly. He’s pretty sure being on the RUSA Most Wanted List won’t look too good on his college application.

  Whereas the Tubes that provide sheltered elevated access to all parts of downtown Saint Louis are clean, well-lit, and airy, the Tunnels beneath the city are like dungeons, gloomy and drab and in desperate need of a good scrubbing. The air is suffocating, and Harrison is forced to stop for a minute to catch his breath, stroking Lola’s back. She licks his chin appreciatively, but remains silent, the picture of obedience. Already he can see that her program is bonding her to him. Whoever her previous owner was, their bond was weak.

  “Which way?” Harrison asks. He has zero experience in the Tunnels and he feels turned around down here. They’re on a platform, the empty train tracks sunk into a shadowy chasm. Do people really commute to work like this every day? he wonders. To him, this place seems more like a zombie hole than a place humans should be forced to endure.

  “It’s a little further uptown,” Simon says, turning left.

  With their bond growing, Harrison doesn’t have to instruct Lola to follow him—when he starts walking, she trots after him. “How far?” he asks. Do we have to stay in this dungeon? he adds in his head.

  “Less than a mile,” Simon replies, not turning around. His eyes strobe back and forth, searching for any signs of trouble.

  A few minutes later, Harrison feels Lola pawing at his leg. “Hold up,” he says, but Simon either doesn’t hear him, or ignores him, continuing his march forward. Harrison bends down and scratches Lola under the chin. “What is it, girl?”

  She jerks her head back in the opposite direction, letting out a barely audible whine. “Simon, I think she’s trying to tell us something.”

  The moment the words are out of his mouth, Simon yells out and there’s a heavy clank, like metal meeting stone. Harrison springs to his feet, sprinting toward Simon, who’s dodging attempted hammer blows from an enormous patrol bot’s fist. The robot is so large he makes Simon look small, towering over him, its giant head almost scraping the ceiling above. With blue eyes that shine brightly in the gloom, its fists are like anvils, slamming down with the power to crush stones into dust, or humans into goo.

  Simon wrenches his stun gun from its holster, but when he tries to aim, the bot kicks out with surprising quickness, knocking it from his grasp and onto the train tracks. He mutters a curse and tries to dance back quickly, but his own girth and previous injuries make him too slow, and he catches a backhand blow across the chest, sending him flying.

  Harrison is bowled over as his partner slams into him, ripping the air from his lungs. He skids across the platform, hitting his shoulder and scraping his knees before coming to rest back where he started his sprint.

  As he looks up, wincing, he realizes the patrol bot has not been idle, storming forward and looming over them. “Halt. You are in violation of the city lockdown. Further resistance to arrest will be met with unrestrained force.”

  Harrison groans. He thought the initial attack was ‘unrestrained force.’ If this bot can take it to a whole other level, they’re officially screwed. “Your weapon,” Simon grunts. “Now’s the time to use it.” So much for not firing a gun again, Harrison thinks.

  “I repeat,” the bot drones, going through its programmed spiel one more time.

  Panting, Harrison grips his gun, hiding it behind his hip as the bot extends a metal hand out to grab Simon. “Anytime now!” Simon says, gritting his teeth, trying to scramble away.

  “Eat this,” Harrison says, bringing his gun up and pulling the trigger. The blasts are thunderous in the closed in tunnel, echoing dozens of times as Harrison continues firing, the weapon bucking in his hand. Based on the sparks flying, he knows his shots are hitting their target—kind of hard to miss a giant robot only several feet away—but he can’t tell whether they’re having any effect on the well-armored brute. He keeps shooting until the gun signals the need to reload with a click-click-click.

  Simon is back on his feet and diving off the platform and onto the tracks, scrabbling for his weapon. The bot’s arm is spitting sparks and dangling by thick wires. “Resisting arrest is punishable by termination,” the bot informs him in monotone, as if it’s nothing more than a holo-librarian providing information on The War of Nations for some history report he’s working on.

  Harrison gropes at his pocket, trying to find the spare magazine for the gun, but he knows it’s too late. The bot is standing over him, its good arm preparing to bash his skull into a mil
lion bony shards.

  As it rockets down toward him, he rolls hard to the right, feeling the whoosh of air and the spine-numbing crash of metal crushing the stone platform, which cracks under the onslaught. He tries to get to his feet, but trips, his rubbery legs failing him in the penultimate moment. The fist rises above him once more, and although he knows the bot’s termination program won’t be fooled twice, he knows he has to try. Scrambling on elbows and knees, he attempts to dive away, catching a glimpse of a blur of movement just behind the bot. A white blur. Lola!

  She clambers up the patrol bot’s back, more like a cat than a dog, and bites down hard on its neck, growling and shaking her head from side to side, like she’s trying to tear the stuffing from a chew toy. The bot lets out a hollow bellow—not of pain but of surprise and anger—and spins around, trying to dislodge its attacker, but Lola hangs on like a champ, continuing to rip at the metallic panel at the base of its neck.

  Harrison finally manages to find his extra ammo—in his other pocket—and snaps it into place, but now the bot has managed to grab Lola, wrenching her out in front. Its eyes have gone from blue to red, and seem to be spinning in their sockets. “Termination, ter-min-a-tion, ter…min…a…tion,” it drones, each time saying the word a bit slower, as if its battery is gradually dying.

  As the bot raises its arm to sling Lola to the hard ground below, Harrison raises his gun and begins firing into its face, aiming slightly lower than necessary, to avoid hitting the BotDog. At the same time, he spots Simon pulling himself back onto the platform, his stun gun pointed at the enemy. When he fires, a burst of blue electric light sizzles through the air and slams into the robot’s chest, the energy spreading across its metal frame to its extremities in an instant.

  “TER. MIN. A. TION.” The final word is spoken with such fervor it’s like a prophecy. But not for them, for the bot itself, which finally releases Lola—who’s also coursing with blue electricity—and topples over with a raucous clang.