Becoming (Core Series Book 1)

by Ronnie Barnard

  I love you.... Her thought was a whisper.

  “Core!” he shouted as her voice faded out of existence. He fell to his knees, grabbing his hair and collapsing into the mud. Tears streamed from his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He had finally found her—the girl of his dreams, the most amazing woman he had ever known...and now he was losing her.

  The upload was at ninety-eight percent. Time seemed to slow. Jason’s stomach flip-flopped....

  Ninety-nine percent.

  He curled up on the ground, willing the connection to stay online.... The counter he started when Core told him the remaining time spoke softly: “Ten seconds to shutdown. Nine...eight...seven...six....” The upload was still on ninety nine percent. “...two...one....”

  The connection terminated. She was gone.

  Jason was filled with a vast, deep emptiness. He felt stripped of all emotion.

  The download had stopped, and he was not sure if it was because it had been completed or because it had failed. He ran diagnostics on the “Core information set”, but it came back with an undetermined format. She would have known what this meant, but Jason was not a neural network guru. They never had the time for her to show him how to access other servers. They hadn’t had enough time....

  Jason felt like his chest was being pulled out through his throat. I just have to try, he tried to comfort himself. I will just upload it and see. That is all I can do.

  The sound of distant helicopter blades beating through the rain-soaked air thrummed in his ears. A distant rumble signalled the approach of several tanks and military vehicles. If Damian was still alive, Jason hoped that he would destroy them all.

  If he ever saw Carlos, he would wring the life out of him slowly with his own hands.

  Jason’s face was distorted with rage.

  First, Core. Then Carlos....

  Tears were fresh in his eyes as he walked towards the military vehicles. His walk soon became a jog, and then he started to run, all the time accelerating as he approached them. They would not know what had hit them when he passed. They could not hope to track him if he ran at top speed. He threw himself into the cheetah profile and jumped high as he shifted. He landed nimbly on his paws without missing a stride, and sped up to 500 kph. Trees broken by the blast were sucked into the vortex behind him, which followed him until gravity won and they ploughed into the ground, leaving deep trenches where their trunks entered the earth. The land here was flat, with thousands of acres of open space dotted by trees. It was the military training area for their infantry division. He added night vision and radar filters over his sight, and then was able to see the tanks and other military vehicles 3 kilometres ahead. His current trajectory would take him close to the edge of the lead tank.

  The tanks and Jason approached one another in a deadly game that the military men hadn’t even known they were playing. A second later, he passed by the lead tank. It took him less than a millisecond to break through their advance. Trees collapsed in behind him. One trunk speared through the side of a tank; one trunk crashed downward and flattened the top of another tank. Rocks pelted the soldiers, drawing cries from some and screams from those who received serious hurt.

  Good, Jason thought.

  The helicopters tracked his course, firing at his wake. The wet ground and trees on either side of him exploded as bullets from the helicopters bit into them, but Jason quickly pulled out of range. He sprinted towards the city, and then slowed down as he reached the fringes of the suburbs. The helicopters would track his movements on radar and relay them to the command centre back at the facility. Where to, now?

  Jason watched the path in front of him, making sure not to destroy the property of innocent civilians. Once he was in a built-up area, he shifted back to his human form and ran down the side of the Centenary highway, towards the closest train station. He would get to a public place where there were many people around. He could then assume another identity. He would blend in and disappear.

  He felt an excruciating pain explode in his left shoulder and fell down, tumbling and rolling until he came to a halt in the mud next to the road. He craned his neck and watched as the Nanites repaired the damage from the bullet that had burst clear through his shoulder.

  He stood and scanned the area behind him. Fighter jets were coming in from the south. They had been called in to hunt him down. They must have assumed there was no way he would be able to outrun a jet.

  “Ha!” How wrong could they be? The pain in his shoulder diminished and he watched the blood stop at the edge of the open veins, waiting for their counterparts to close the gap before resuming their flow. The jets passed overhead, making a large turn before heading back towards the south. They would no doubt be lining up for a second fly by—the wing man hung back, making a larger circle that would allow the formation to alternate the attack.

  He looked around; there was a storm water drain a couple hundred meters back, which dove under the road. It was big enough for him to crawl through. And, last he checked, jet planes can’t fire through a road.... The alternative was to shape shift and make a run for it down the highway to the train station. The latter seemed like a better idea, because Richland station was just up ahead, and going into the storm drain would trap him there until the troops arrived. He looked back down the road and saw several military vehicles speeding towards him in the distance.

  Jason stood and started running down the road, swerving left to right to dodge bullets from the jets. There was a bridge ahead that would give him some shelter, but he couldn’t stay there long. He heard several helicopters approaching and watched as the bullets struck the side of the road, ripping holes in the tar. The rain was still pattering down and streaming into his eyes—it filled the bullet holes almost before he could run by them. Jason was a kilometre from the Richland train station—he honed his sight, looking for signs of life. A train had just recently pulled into the station, and was offloading workers just coming off the night shift. People swarmed out of the train and up the stairwell, walking either to the bus stop or the parking lot next to the station.

  He had to get out of town, maybe even out of the country. He accelerated, moving at top speed to reach the platform in a couple of seconds. He ducked down between the train and the platform, placing himself so that the overhang hid him from view. He shifted into a liquid blob and poured through the cracks below the front-most train car, melting into the driverless cabin, forming a puddle until he filled the floor of the small control compartment. He took on the shape of the floor panel and solidified the outside of his skin. A couple minutes later, he heard the rotors of the helicopters as they strained against the stormy sky to hover in place above the station. He remembered his boot-up experience, and instructed his senses to construct a mental image of the area outside. The scene quickly took shape as his senses of smell, touch, and hearing filled told him what was happening in the outside world. Men were jumping out of the helicopter and running towards the train station. There were twelve men in the first helicopter, and more helicopters and military vehicles were arriving. The helicopters lifted up from the ground but remained close by, circling the outside of the train station to survey it from the air. Several soldiers stopped cars and busses from leaving, while others formed a blockade around the complex. Several minutes later, the train signalled and a male voice announced the train’s departure. There was nothing that the commander could do about it—the train ran on an automated system. Jason heard several men climbing on board moments before the doors slid closed. They searched through the three train cars, but did not find him. When they opened the door to the driver’s compartment, one of them stumbled on the raised floor panel. He looked down at it with a sneer on his face, and kicked it with his toe.

  “What do we pay these damn engineers so much for, anyway?” he muttered. Then, seeing the compartment empty, he left.

  “Nothing on the train, Commander,” he radioed in.

  “We will send transport to pick you up from the
next stop. Make sure he’s not hiding somewhere beneath the train,” the commander’s voice echoed.

  “Yes Commander.” Then he turned to the other two—Jason could hear the squeak of his shoes on the floor.

  “You heard the commander. Spread out and make sure this guy does not drop off the bottom of the train. When we arrive at the next stop, check each car again, top to bottom.” The soldiers spread out through the train as the male voice announced the next station. They hung out the windows to see if Jason rolled out from one of the cars.

  Minutes later, the train slowed down as it pulled into Oxley station. It was a station that Jason knew a little too well. Memories of being chased here by the wolf-men were still fresh in his mind. The soldiers left the cars and checked under the carriages, on their tops and even on the sides. They waited for the train to depart, keeping vigilant watch for any sign, but their efforts were unrewarded. The train remained motionless for three minutes, and then announced its departure. The doors slowly closed and locked, and then it slowly began to pull out of the station. He waited until the soldiers’ forms had disappeared down the track and the train was well up to speed before assuming a human form.

  He decided to assume the identity of a train conductor. That would explain why he was inside the driver’s compartment, even if this was an automated system. No one would notice or ask any questions. He brought up the mental image of a train driver—an older gentlemen with a large beard, short hair and stocky built, with some tattoos on his arms and shoulders. He gave himself a beer gut and a slight limp. He had abandoned his clothes at the previous station, when he shifted into a liquid, and so he clothed the mental image with railway attire. Then, he dropped the image onto himself.

  The train cabin had a mirror that looked back through the small windows into the first car, which was empty for the moment. Jason turned the mirror downwards and looked within. There was no chance that the military would suspect him of being himself.

  The train passed houses and crossed creeks that were starting to overflow with water from the downpour. Jason began to wonder, for the first time, whether there would be flooding.

  He walked through to the first car and waited for the train to come to a halt at the next station. Up until now he had just been running, and it was about time he started working on a plan.

  First, Core. Then Carlos.

  The reality of the situation hit him right in the gut. He felt his knees grow weak and he sat down on the nearest bench. He needed to get Core back, that’s what he needed. The idea of spending eternity without her was too much to bear. He had promised her he would continue no matter what, and he would keep that promise...but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try everything in his ability to find a suitable host for her.

  Host

  He had no idea how to make the body connect. Core had said that the body must accept the connection, but how can a body accept anything when the brain was dead? He thought about it for a while, and decided to wing it.

  He remained seated when the doors opened at the next station. A couple of passengers got on—an older couple that sat down opposite him on the bench. He made a mental note of them, and all of the people who entered the train car, particularly paying attention to their clothes, bodies and features, and then created a profile for each. Now he had a couple of disguises—he didn’t have to waste valuable time making them up on the spot. He felt proud that he had thought of creating the profiles—up to this point he had relied on Core’s knowledge to get him through. But now he was on his own, and no one would help him but himself.

  The train pulled out of the station. There would be another five stops before it pulled into the central station in the city. Houses flashed by the windows opposite where Jason was seated; the noise of the train wheels running over the seams in the track made a repetitive “cluck-cluck” noise that soothed his nerves somewhat. He thought over the last couple of weeks, or what he could remember of them—the success in his office at home (he wondered what happened to his house and whether he would see it again), Core saving him at the hospital....

  The hospital! They must have a neurological care unit. A feeling of urgency flooded through him, and he wondered if he could will the train to run faster. The next stop was Milton station, which was not too far from the station opposite the hospital.

  Jason distracted himself by watching the older couple sitting across from him. They sat still and quiet, with their hands entwined. The woman was leaning on her husband’s shoulder, with her eyes closed. Her husband watched the houses flying past, lost somewhere in his own world.

  Jason tore his gaze from them—it reminded him too much for the future he had dreamed of with Core.

  The inside of the train was filled with ads for hand wash, toiletries and other non-essential items. It all felt so normal, yet his existence had changed in a flash.

  The train slowed down as it approached Milton station. When the male voice made the announcement for the stop, the older couple stood and shuffled to the door. She held onto his arm while he steadied them against the rocking of the train by grasping the hand rail next to the door. They both wore comfortable walking shoes on and were dressed in grey–the perfect grandparents. He always wondered why older people preferred to dress so drably, but had never found the nerve to ask.

  The other passengers remained seated. They knew where they were going, and who was waiting for them on the other side. But Jason...he felt like he knew nothing anymore.

  He read the name board announcing the Milton station, and then saw the military personnel waiting at the platform. His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his exterior emotionless, watching them with only a mild interest as the train finally came to a halt. They surveyed the people exiting the train with great interest, and then two of them boarded, watching everyone with suspicion. When the door alarm sounded, one soldier exited the train, leaving the other behind. He stood facing the crowd, vigilant and ready. His gaze was met with blank stares from everyone around Jason.

  They had not found anyone at the Richland station—maybe they even found his torn clothes after the train had left. They must suspect he had gotten onto the train somehow. Whatever their reasoning, they were not taking any chances. It did not matter, however—they were looking for the wrong Jason. When the soldier looked at him, he smiled wide. This made the soldier look away quickly, somewhat embarrassed at being too blatant. Jason chuckled internally.

  Everyone swayed with the rocking motion of the train. Minutes later, the male voice announced his stop approaching. Jason got up and walked to the door, standing next to the soldier, who was holding on to the overhead grip rail.

  “Who are you looking for, sonny?” he asked the soldier in a typical Australian accent, his voice cracking with age.

  “A very dangerous individual, sir.” The soldier looked at him from beneath his hat with a sober look. “He escaped about an hour ago, and we were called in to help the search. They believe he is on his way into the city.” The young soldier spoke in the most officious voice he could muster.

  “I see....” Jason looked out the window for a moment. “So, what did this fella do then?”

  “I don’t know, sir, they just said he’s very dangerous and to radio in if we should spot him.” The soldier followed Jason’s gaze out the window.

  “Any luck so far?”

  “Not yet, sir—they say he just disappeared at the Richland station. This is the only train that has left that area since he disappeared. We will catch him, rest assured. The military and police forces are working together to ensure a swift resolve.” His voice was almost reassuring.

  The train slowed and pulled into the underground hospital station. “Well, that is good to know, son, gives me great pleasure to see our fine young soldiers help catch such a dastardly bloke,” he said, bracing against the slowing train. “Well...I better be off then.” When the door opened, he stepped out. “You take care now!” he called over his shoulder.

  “Thank you,
sir, have a good day.” The soldier called at his back.

  They were right about one thing—he was heading into the city—but wrong about all the others. He walked up the stairs to the station’s entrance. Fortunately for him, this station had not been upgraded to the new, card-based system; this allowed him to walk right past the police officers watching every face that came up the stairs. They ignored him completely, once they saw his age. He smiled when he passed. They nodded and kept watching the crowd.

  The automatic sliding doors opened as Jason approached. The last time he had run into this building, he’d looked much worse. Outside, the rain reduced to a drizzle. A grey fog flooded through the streets, hugging the buildings and signs. The traffic lights cast ominous glows through the heavy fog as they switched colours. An eerie silence radiated through the fog, sending goose bumps up and down his spine. For a city that never slept, Brisbane sure could be silent.

  Signs of the recent storm was present with every step—puddles formed wherever you could look, and streams oozed out of the sewers, gutters and sidewalks, carrying brown sand deposits that had washed down from the hills. If there was another major storm now, all the water deposited in the catchment areas would run off into the rivers, instead of being absorbed into the ground.

  Jason walked towards the barely visible traffic lights to the left of the station. He passed a local news agency, which loomed out of the mist like a ghost ship, its white florescent lighting illuminating the fog that swirled in the air currents outside its front door. His eye caught a newspaper heading that read: “Vampire Murder.” He did not know why it grabbed his attention, but took a mental photograph of the article before he continued to the traffic lights.

  He read the article while waiting for the pedestrian light to change.