by S E Anderson
In a second, the men marching toward us crumpled to the ground, motionless. Zander lowered his gun, and I lowered the laser. Blayde stood before us, wiping her palms and giving us a look that meant business.
"I wanted to do that. I haven't had the chance to do that in ages."
"You blew up a power plant last week, Zander."
"Well, technically, it's been two years on that planet, right?"
Blayde rolled her eyes and made her way toward us. "Let's not get all that mixed up. We do have more important things to focus on, like, maybe, a power-hungry robot control system that wants to take over the planet? An AI that wants to rule the universe? So where else could the ICP broadcast from, if not from here?"
"Could be anywhere, right?" I shuddered. "This planet is huge."
"Not to mention they could be using an array instead of reaching for the satellites directly. Like a fire relay on Earth," Zander said.
"Our what now?"
"You know, like the Romans." He snapped his fingers. "The beacons are lit. Gondor calls for aid."
"Oh, right," I said. "Those. In any case, we'd be looking for the same thing: the highest, clearest point around."
"Something already set up to broadcast," Blayde added.
"Da-Duhui Tower." I pointed. I could see its spires rising from the city beyond, and knew I was right. "It's taller than the palace."
"We went with your suggestion the last time. See how great that turned out? Leave the thinking to the adults."
"No, really, Blayde." He shot a glare at his sister. "Sally might be onto something. Wasn't that what the tour guide said earlier? Tallest building in the city, broadcast tower. Makes sense. Why didn't we think of it earlier?"
He stepped toward the edge of the roof and looked down at the city below. Between the palace and the tower laid the grand highway, wider and deeper than the Grand Canyon back home.
"Also," he added, "there seem to be more zombies climbing the wall."
"Seriously? Zombies, Zander?" Blayde scoffed.
"People under the influence of an evil AI is a large mouthful."
"True. So, we just need to make our way to this tower, avoid these zombies, remove the ICP from the mainframe, and save the planet from a mad AI. Easy peasy."
"Uh-huh." Zander smiled. "Just like old times."
"Like old times," she repeated. A grin spread across her face like a viral infection. "Awesome."
And with that, she rushed to the edge and leapt.
She ran down the wall of the pyramid, ignoring the brain-dead men and women crawling up the side like ants. She made it look easy. The elastic band flew off her hair, letting it flutter in the wind of her rush, and her feet hit the almost vertical wall like she was trotting on firm ground.
She reached the base of the pyramid and disappeared. I shuddered, wondering if I could do what she had done.
"Long way down." I gulped. I had already fallen once, and something told me I wouldn't not survive the next collision with the ground.
"She likes the rush," Zander shrugged, completely casual. Something in his tone made me feel that he had missed her, missed the insanity that was his sister. He was so happy having her back in his life. "She's a bit addicted to it, actually. And you can't exactly see a psychiatrist and tell them you're addicted to jumping off tall buildings."
“Actually, it’s called base jumping, and it’s totally a thing.”
“I thought Earth had run out of ways to confuse me, but here I am, proven wrong once again.”
Already I could see Blayde bolting across the crowded lawn, jumping from safe point to safe point, avoiding the hordes of guests with more showy moves than ones that were useful. The people climbing the roof turned their heads to watch her. The ICP had obviously labeled her as a threat.
I reached down to pick up my duffel bag, slid it on my shoulder, and pulled it tight. I shut my eyes, only for a few seconds to catch my breath and calm my nerves, but they were having none of it. As soon as my lids shut, the image of Blayde tossing herself off the ledge forced itself to the front of my mind.
"Okay," I said quickly. "Let's go."
Zander took his hand into mine, giving it a quick squeeze. I waited for him to take the first step, to run off the ledge, dragging me behind him, but he stood still, silent. It was the sound of Blayde's breath that startled me. My eyes flew open. We were in the parking lot. I hadn't even realized we had moved.
Blayde's breathing was only a fraction faster than it had been before, though her grin was twice as wide. She laughed when she saw me.
"Aww, Zan," she said. A fake pout drew itself on her thin lips. "You're no fun. No fun at all."
A wink in my direction, and she was off again. She flew past me, zipping into the parking lot and checking out expensive cars as she went. She was getting in the habit of disappearing.
Zander let go of my hand, and the lack of touch felt odd. I stood firm, still frozen, my mind racing. He smiled. The look changed when he saw my face.
"What?"
"We just ... jumped?" I said, my eyes fixed on the palace. From this distance, I couldn't pick out Sekai from the climbing forms on the roof. I couldn't make out anyone.
"You thought we'd have to run through that?"
He waved his hand in the general area of the party. The ICP's people were marching toward us again, but the large fence stopped them from coming any closer. They pushed against it like actual zombies from any movie you've ever seen.
Two valets ambled toward us, but they were slow and weaponless, not a real threat, but the ICP could probably see us through them.
"I could see the parking lot." Zander shrugged like it was no big deal. "Not too complicated to jump us here. Nothing fancy. Blayde's just, well, Blayde."
"You mean she's crazy."
"I mean she's Blayde," he said, protectively. "She's immortal. We feel no pain, but she wants to feel something. Luckily, she found an outlet that doesn't involve a life of crime."
"But the Alliance thinks you’re criminals?"
"It's complicated. I'll tell you about it someday."
"Why didn't you just jump us when we were at the tower?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Was that for ... fun?"
"Fun? At a time like that?" He looked at me like I had just accused him of murder. "Fun was the furthest thing from my mind. For all I knew, you were dying. You could well have been. I couldn't see the ground; I didn't have a clear vantage point. Plus, I was hoping a bit of air, and free fall, would be good for you. Tends to work for me. I thought it would help your stomach. Obviously, it didn't."
"Or maybe the fall just had to be higher."
"What?"
"Your arm!" I exclaimed as he turned just enough for me to see it. It hung stiffly at his side. It could have had something to do with the fact that he’d been shot.
"Oh crud. I forgot about that."
"You forgot about being shot?"
"I don't feel pain, Sally." He tried to shrug, but the arm didn't go very high. "Shit. This is going to be a nuisance."
"Doesn't it heal?"
"Yeah, but the bullet's still in there." He reached up to the wound with his other hand, pulled the sleeve away, and prodded around the hole with his fingers, which were much too large to pull the bullet out themselves. He seemed annoyed at it, like he had gotten a parking ticket and not a bullet wound.
When he lifted his eyes to meet mine again, I knew what he was asking. I stepped back.
“They use bullets here?” I stammered, unsure how to actually respond. “I thought it was condensed plasma or something.”
“I guess whoever shot me was a cheapskate,” he said. "Come on, please? The wound won't heal if the bullet's in there. It doesn't work like that. I can't get it out, and your fingers seem long enough—"
"Shit. I did not sign up for this."
"Please?"
I said nothing but waved him down at me. What were friends for if not taking bullets out of each other?
I probed the w
ound. It was round with shredded red flesh poking out. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes before pushing my fingers into the wound.
A gut-wrenching scream filled the air. I ripped my hand back as Zander collapsed into a fit of laughter.
"Oh, come on.” My hand trembled. ”This isn't funny!"
"Your face." He laughed.
"Not cool!"
"Sorry, sorry. Won't happen again."
I retrieved the bullet, my nails clutching the metal casing and pulling it out as I kept my eyes tightly shut. The second it was out the wound closed. The skin grew back, first red then turning pink then back to its original color, as if he had never been shot, as if the bullet had never been close to his skin.
"Man, it feels good to get that out." Zander let out a heavy sigh. He spun his arm in wide circles with enough force to ground a bull. "Thanks, oh so much. I'm sorry I had to ask that of you."
"It was ... nothing?"
I looked up at his face, his beautiful face. Two years I hadn’t seen it, and yet it looked exactly how I remembered it. More handsome, maybe. Chiseled and brown and determined.
This, right here, was the real Zander. There was the fun-loving, traveling tourist, but underneath it all was a hero, a warrior. And seeing him now, in the parking lot of a gala that had been taken over by mind-controlled party guests, I felt like I was meeting him for the first time.
I don’t think I had ever seen him so clearly until this very moment. Poised. Calm in the face of danger.
“Is this a weird time to tell you how much I’ve missed you?” I said.
“I missed you too, Sally,” he said, but he sounded sad. Immortals and their attachments—or lack of, I guess.
Last time I would ever see him. Take it in, Sally Webber.
I held the bloody casing in one hand, trying to wrap my mind around what had happened. I had expected the thing to be smooth and rounded, but it looked like popped popcorn, though with sharp metal edges rather than fluffy white starch.
"Toss it." Zander pulled his sleeve down as Blayde turned the corner in a shiny red convertible.
"Get in!" She leaned to throw open the passenger door. I didn't need to be told twice. I jumped into the back, automatically snapping my seatbelt. I seriously hated these cars. Always wear a seatbelt in Da-Duhui, or you might just fall a few kilometers.
The second my door slammed, the car shot forward like a bullet from a gun, throwing me back against the seat and smashing my head into the rest behind it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, but also gives me anxiety
If I had learned one lesson from this experience, it was that hover cars and convertibles should never be combined. A lesson I learned with wide eyes, shock, and fear.
The second lesson was never to put Blayde at the wheel of one.
To say Blayde was a crazy driver would be an understatement. Bad driver, though, maybe not. At this speed, you could do a lot worse. She drove fast and she drove well, but she was insane—no fear, no hesitation, instant reflexes. She swerved the vehicle fast, forcing it higher and higher up the street. I couldn't close my eyes—the wind was blowing against them so strongly that the lids were stuck in an open position. I gripped the seat with both hands, my nails digging into the plastic as she forced the vehicle to ascend, faster and faster and faster, until the city was a blur.
The motor slowed dramatically, getting oddly quiet, a mechanical voice telling us to remain calm, to stay in our seats, and to not to attempt to move or escape. Slowly we leveled out, but it neither rose nor fell, leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere.
"Blocked!" Blayde slammed her knee against the underside of the wheel, peeling off a large piece of protective plastic. "The ICP, has to be, it must have found us."
"What do we do?" The question echoed in my mind. What do we do? What do we do? A question I had asked myself so many times in these past hours.
"We have to reach the level we were at yesterday," said Zander, absentmindedly, already on something else entirely. It was like he was talking aloud, voicing his still-forming thoughts. "Platform Six. But I can't see it. One jump won't cut it."
I took a deep breath, looking down at all the cars underneath us. The ICP must have set them to a crawl until it had better control over the people driving them. At least it didn't want any fatalities for its new hosts—except for us, but it couldn’t control us anyway.
I was past fear. Looking down at the darkness below, the world I had not long ago escaped, made my heart pound. Anxiety wove itself into the fabric of my being, a weight on my chest and a knot in my stomach.
But it could not get any worse than this.
With a clip, the seatbelt unbuckled and let me free. Gathering my courage with both hands, I stood up on my seat. The city fell away below me. With a deep breath, I put my foot on the edge and jumped into the nothingness below.
This time it was calculated. Planned. I landed on the hood of a car, a stabbing pain running up my legs as I crashed. My knees trembled as I stood back up, balancing above the canyon of the highway. Then I was jumping again, throwing myself into the void—not thinking, only doing—and landed on the hood of a blue convertible. The people at the wheel didn’t flinch when I forced myself back onto my feet. They seemed unaware that I had just used their car as a landing spot or that I had dented their hood. I detached myself from my mind, leaving just the mechanical self, free to ignore the part of myself that was crying and screaming.
A thud followed, loud and resonating. I imagined my falling on the cars wasn't silent either, but the roar of air in my ears made me oblivious to the sound of my own landing. Only one thud followed me. Where was the other?
I looked down and threw myself off again. I was getting good at this, but cockiness would probably kill me because the second I put my foot on that roof, I felt my balance give out. My heart skipped as I tumbled forward. There was no time to catch my breath as I fell without calculating my next move.
I saw the next car race toward me. I tried to move my feet so I could land right, but I knew I would miss it. I had no time to gauge my approach or to prepare my landing. I was going to fall.
And I was right.
I hit the car hands first, feeling pain crushing my bones as I body-slammed the hood. My arms flailed as I slid toward the highway. I grasped for something, anything, to stop me.
Something hard grabbed my arm, but my momentum was taking over and I slid off the car entirely. I clutched something sharp and metal, but it wasn't enough. My hands hurt; oh, they hurt so much. My shoulders strained as they took the weight of my body. My feet dangled, useless, over the chasm below.
I probably wouldn't survive the drop this time.
I knew I wouldn't.
If I screamed now, there was no telling if it would alert the ICP to my presence. No telling if the people in the convertible above would wake up to shake me off. I stifled a sob as I felt my hands slipping.
A hand wrapped around my elbow and grabbed tight. My legs struggled for a foothold, but the person was strong and hoisted me like I were a large bag of feathers. I slid on the hood, panting, looking up at my savior, the beautiful woman with fire in her eyes.
I opened my mouth to thank her, but she was already gone, leaping off the car onto one below. She flew over the void. I inhaled, exhaled, wiping the tears of pain from the corners of my eyes.
"You all right?" Zander appeared next to me, extending a hand. Ah, thudless. He was jumping. Blayde was the one leaping. Relief washed over me as I realized I wouldn't have to do that again. Relief, and shame, as I wondered why I had thrown myself out of the car without talking to them first. Zander and Blayde knew what they were doing.
I nodded, and I grabbed his hand. A second later we stood on another car then another, changing settings so quickly and seamlessly that it felt like the world was flicking channels around me. From one car to the next, we made our way down, lower and lower and lower, until it wasn't a car un
der my feet anymore but a thick slab of stone.
Blayde followed, physically leaping from car to car, every step graceful like the entire challenge was effortless. She could have jumped, that much was evident, but in that moment, as she dropped hundreds of meters bit by bit, she looked alive, her face brighter than the city. Seconds later, she was on the ledge beside us, landing cat-like on the stone, staring at the entrance to the shopping strip.
"Thank you," I said, but it was useless. She wasn’t listening—to me or to anyone. She was a woman with focus and determination in her eyes, one that would not be distracted by anyone or anything. She strode away, raising a hand to indicate that we should follow, and the three of us marched through the shopping center surrounded by people possessed by an evil AI.
This dream was getting weirder.
"They're not attacking," I whispered to Zander, simultaneously shocked and relieved that they had not stepped toward us—yet. He didn't answer, putting a finger to his lips. Did he think silence would stop them from noticing our presence?
This technique was working well enough; nobody paid any attention to us as we walked by quickly and quietly. They didn't even look in our direction, simply meandered around as if a computer had use of their motor functions, poorly programmed RPCs. One particularly large man repeatedly walked into one of the windows on the street, grunting loudly as his head collided with glass, again and again.
"Gods! What's going on?"
A woman stepped outside of a store, glancing up and down the street in terror. Instantly, every eye was on her. The people closest pounced within seconds. I made a move toward her, but Blayde threw a hand out. "No," she whispered. "We can't draw attention to ourselves."
"But she's going to get hurt. The ICP could kill her."
"No, look."
The people held her down, but they weren't harming her. Instead, they stuffed pizzas in her face as she cried, choked, and finally swallowed.
Blayde shoved me forward. We couldn't stay and help. There was nothing we could do. We had to move on and save them all rather than give up our advantage for just one. And being force-fed pizzas was probably better than other alternatives.