by Mark Lingane
The q-backer held up a hand and the tanks halted. He indicated the dead infected, and the runners cautiously approached. One prodded it.
Two men with the rank of linebacker appeared carrying a coffin-sized black box between them. They manhandled the green creature into it. There was a hiss, and the box was sealed and locked. They carried the box to the rear tank. A large claw descended from the base of the tank, clamped down on the coffin, and snatched it up inside the vehicle.
“Secure the area and scare away the scavengers,” Charlie said. “Did you say there were others?”
The soldier saluted. “Yes, Q-backer.” He placed a small black projection unit on the ground. A laser flickered up and an image appeared on the light screen. The video played, capturing Sebastian and Memphis as they glanced in the direction of the camera, then turned and fled.
“Rewind to the start and zoom in on their faces,” the q-backer said.
The linebacker waved over the screen and started the footage from the beginning. He paused it on Sebastian and Memphis, and zoomed in. Squares appeared around each of their faces.
“Copy the faces and send them out to the force.” The q-backer took a step closer and stared at Memphis. He poked a large mechanical finger through the image. “And, who are you?” he muttered.
There was a buzzing in the q-backer’s earpiece. He listened for a moment before saying, “The Forty-ninth Division is pushing in from the north.” He looked up at the darkening sky. The sky was clear and the temperature was dropping rapidly. “Get the team back to base.”
The tanks turned and the Chargers made their way back down the street. Dark eyes in the shadows watched them leave.
5
SEBASTIAN AND MEMPHIS made their way through the deserted streets. An occasional noise from the nearby buildings alerted Sebastian to the constant threat of an unknown and nearby presence. The night was rapidly approaching.
A long wailing sound erupted from sirens mounted high on the surrounding buildings.
Memphis pulled them up. “We need to find somewhere to hide for the night, quickly.”
“Hide? Why?”
“They launch the drones at dusk.”
She headed for the closest intact buildings, found a suitable one, and led Sebastian to the top floor and into a dark room. In the last rays of light, she found a lantern and set it glowing. They looked around. The room was well stocked with cans of food bearing faded labels, and containers of liquid.
A red velvet drape hung over a small window. Sebastian pulled it to one side and caught the last of the sun’s rays as they disappeared below the horizon, leaving a faint orange aura. Gazing out the window at the wreckage of the buildings below reminded him of his hometown in Australia after the cyborgs had destroyed most of it. He wondered if a destroyed house was still a home. Or was it the people that made it?
The cyborgs, those part humans, part machines, had combed the land ruthlessly looking for him, driven on by Iris, the merciless artificial intelligence that he had created in some way unknown to him.
In the bizarre recesses of what passed for Iris’s mind, it believed that everything it did was for the betterment of mankind because it was progress. Iris had ripped ordinary human beings apart as though they were nothing more than toys, and replaced body parts with “improved” versions: new arms and new legs. Not satisfied with improving otherwise sound people, Iris had disposed of the disabled in massive substructures that had turned them into mechanical dragons.
And the people of his homeland Australia had taken it because Iris’s rules rolled over them in such small increments that they hardly noticed what was happening. Bit by bit, technology had sapped their sentience until they had become little more than techno-zombies—slaves to the machine.
Then, Sebastian had come along. Ironically, if the cyborgs had left him alone, they would have survived. But, in finding him, they had guaranteed their own demise. He hadn’t meant to wipe them out. It was an accident. And what made it worse was that @summer, whom he had never forgotten, whom his heart constantly ached for, was the enemy.
Memphis slid a heavy bolt across the door, grabbed a long piece of fabric, rolled it up, and jammed it under the door. “To stop the light getting out,” she explained, reaching past him and closing the drape. “And to keep the warmth in. It gets pretty cold here at night during winter.”
“What is this place?” He placed his hand against the metal walls and received a small shock. He withdrew his hand quickly.
“It’s a safe room. Most buildings have one to protect the occupants from the drones.” She looked into his puzzled face. “You don’t know what a drone is?” He shook his head. “They’re reprogrammed delivery units armed with weapons.”
“Delivery?”
“Yeah, mail and stuff.”
Sebastian sat down and shivered. “This place, the North America, isn’t making a whole lot of sense,” he said. He laid his head on a bag of rags, folded his hands across his chest, and stared up at the ceiling. His stomach growled.
“It’s not the North America, just North America.”
“Okay, North America, but it’s still not making much sense.”
Memphis looked through the shelves of supplies and extracted a shiny, sealed bag. She pulled it open and plunged her hand inside, pulling it back out with a handful of ridged discs. “You want some food?”
“What are they?”
“Potato chips.”
“I don’t like vegetables.”
She offered him a large chip. “These are about as far away from a vegetable as you can get. Here, try one.”
He sat up. He took it suspiciously. It felt greasy in his fingers. He sniffed it. It didn’t smell like a potato, which with his horticultural knowledge meant that it should taste of dirt. He licked it. It didn’t taste of dirt. He placed it in his mouth and chomped down. His exhausted body and mind reacted to the excessive salt and fats, and exploded with bliss.
“Want another one?” She offered the bag to him. He grabbed it and took a handful and stuffed them in his mouth. She laughed at the expression of happiness on his face. “You’ll regret it in a minute.”
He chomped away, feeling his mouth go dry under the strange flavor. He swallowed and handed back the bag.
“So, strange guy who fell from the sky,” Memphis said, “tell me about yourself.”
Sebastian thought back, not sure what he’d told her, not even sure if he’d told her his name. “I’m Sebastian, and I come from across the sea, from a country called Australia.”
“I could tell by your voice you’re not from here.”
To Sebastian’s ears, her voice was pleasant as she casually rolled her words together in a seductive and confident way.
“And you don’t need to do the matching hand movements,” she said. “I know what the sea is. What brings you across the sea?”
“I have something to do here, a place I have to go to.”
“Tell me more.”
“I need to get to New York. That’s all I can say right now.”
She laughed. “You’re going to find that a challenge. You know it’s about three thousand miles across some of the most hostile country you could imagine? And once you get there, the city is full of madmen and hostile armies.”
“I’ll get there,” he replied solemnly. “I already know that I do.”
Her face scrunched up in bafflement. “I don’t get it.”
“Is it always this cold?” he said, lying down.
She looked at his light clothing, barely more than workman’s flannel stretched over his muscles. “In winter, yes. But at least it doesn’t snow.”
“What’s snow?”
She laughed. “You’ve never seen snow? Oh, it’s beautiful. White flakes drifting down from the sky.” She glanced up at the ceiling, mimicking the fall of snowflakes with her fingers. She smiled. “The last memory I have before they took my mother is of snow. So, what are these ‘abilities’ you have?”
&n
bsp; There was no response. She looked over at him. He had fallen asleep.
She picked up one of the blankets, lay down next to him, and pulled the blanket over them. She rolled over, pressed into his body, and rested her arm on his chest, soaking up his warmth. She watched his face as his muscles relaxed. He twitched lightly as a mosquito buzzed above them.
She felt something determined and unwavering in him. She could tell that he’d been hurt, and he wore it loudly, but it hadn’t beaten him. She felt a pang of guilt about her utilitarian use of him and the protection he offered, but her life was what it was, and she had to get by as best she could. She would use him to escape to more sympathetic territories. How different things might have been if she’d met him years ago.
Sebastian stirred. He stared upward. He couldn’t see much. The velvet drape kept the room in darkness. He screamed and sat up.
“It’s all right,” said a disembodied voice.
The lantern’s soft glow revealed Memphis sitting on a small box. She had changed her clothes, and was now wearing a top that fell off her shoulder, and worse, he could see her bare legs.
Memphis gave him a small wave. “It’s only me.”
A gold pendant was hanging from a chain fastened tightly around her neck. She stood up and reached toward the supplies on a high shelf. All she was wearing under the large top were underpants. He turned away, blushing.
“Did you hear the drones last night?” she said, as she shuffled through the boxes and cans.
“No.”
“Man, you must sleep heavy. Their buzzing’s really creepy. Some were scratching around the door a few hours before sunrise.” She pulled down another silver bag. “You want some more potato chips?” She smiled and offered the bag to him.
He smacked his lips together. To his surprise, the last thing he wanted was another chip. His mouth was dry. “Is there any water?”
“Water? Don’t you find that a bit boring?”
“I find it wet, and that’s exactly what I need right now.”
She looked back to the shelves. “I got about a zillion flavors of soda. Oh, wait.” She stretched as far as she could, her top rising well above her waist. “I can’t … wait, why am I doing this? You can easily reach.”
Sebastian turned back with his ears burning and reached up to the bottle Memphis indicated. He stared at the strange cap on the bottle. Bottles back home normally had a cork or clamp, but topping this one was a piece of metal. He kept trying to pull it off until his face turned red. She took it off him, twisted the cap, and handed it back. He gave her a suspicious look. As he drank, she opened the door and dim light spilled in.
The velvet drape caught Sebastian’s eye, making him smile. He pulled it down and tied it around his neck, squinting against the bright light outside.
“Why are you wearing a cape?”
“It reminds me of a friend,” he said. “Someone I let down.”
“Man, you really are from another place. And possibly time.” Memphis finished slipping into her armor plates. “Okay, we need a plan. I think we should head southeast. There’s less fighting in the desert, and I know some—”
“I have to get to New York. Is that to the southeast?”
“Um … sort of. It’s definitely east anyway. And heading southeast is the safest way to get there. We’re in southern California, the heart of Charger territory. The Forty-ninth Division is in the north of the state. They’re always fighting with the Chargers—and everyone else—so east is best.”
“Where is New York exactly?”
After a pause, Memphis answered reluctantly. “To the northeast. It’s the furthest point we could be from where we are and still be in North America.”
“Then, that’s the direction I’m going.”
She stared at him, taking in his earnest and determined expression. He was obviously the type of guy who didn’t give in.
“Fine, but first let’s go straight east. You can take me to Denver. It’s about one of the safest places I can go. From there, you can get a ride straight across to New York.”
“What, you want me to be like a bodyguard?”
“Um, yeah, if you could.”
He stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Someone I was very close to was once a protector. Now it’s my turn.”
She looked up at his broad shoulders, and the large sword strapped to his strong back. She would almost swear he was slightly bigger than yesterday. “If someone like you needed protection, I don’t want to visit the place you come from.”
They emerged from the building in the bright morning light, and made their way cautiously along the deserted street, clambering over rubble from the collapsed buildings.
“You got any family, Sebastian?” she asked.
“No, they’re all dead.”
“You got any friends?”
“No, they’re all dead.” His voice carried the sadness of the last months, when everything had been taken away from him.
She looked back over her shoulder at him, taking in his sad expression. “Should I be hanging out with you?”
He smiled. “I don’t think you’re in any immediate danger. What about you? Have you got any family?”
“Hah! No. They were killed by the Forty-ninth. Right in front of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. It’s life in this crappy country. It’s kill or be killed. Look out for number one, because no one else will. And you can’t rely on anyone.” Her voice was sour. She kicked a chunk of rubble lying on the ground. It bounced over the ground and crashed into a broken column, which collapsed.
“What happened to this city? I’m afraid to touch anything.”
“All cities in North America are like this. My mom, before they shot her, told me there’d been a civil war between technology and people, sort of like a robot uprising. On the technological side, they used nuclear weapons, which made the robots the winners. All the cities were destroyed, and people had to survive as best they could, hiding until the technology died out. Life was short and crappy for a long time, but then people started to get stronger. They started growing food again. Then they banded together into territorial factions, and fought for the ground that wasn’t completely dead. We’ve had these conflicts going for decades.”
“How did people survive before they grew food?”
“They made this synthetic stuff called coro, which gave people the basic nutrients and had the great side effect of numbing your brain to all the crap stuff that was going on in the world. People got addicted to it, and then a whole other war started up over the distribution of coro. People would do anything to get their next hit.”
“Why did you join the police?”
“What?”
“You said you were transporting a terrorist.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, you’ve got to do something. You’re either part of the problem, or part of the solution, as they say. Now I’m thirsty. I should’ve brought the soda.”
The day had warmed up. The sun was gaining in strength and they were beginning to perspire in the surprisingly hot phantom-summer morning.
Memphis looked around, getting her bearings. “I came down this way before you landed on me. There was a bar along here somewhere,” she said, pointing. “We can probably get a ride out of town from there if we buy the right person a few strong drinks.”
She walked briskly along the street, and Sebastian strode after her. She stopped and held up her hand. He heard a loud whistle.
“Down!” she shouted.
Sebastian heard the unmistakable sound of a rocket grenade heading directly for them before he dived to the ground.
6
THE GRENADE EXPLODED against the wall several yards above their heads and rubble cascaded over them. When the dust had cleared, Sebastian stood up. He held out his hand and helped Memphis to her feet. They both coughed out a lungful of dust.
Rapid gunfire impacted the wall next to them. They spr
inted down the nearest alley, which headed off to the north. They could hear the hydraulics from the great spider-tanks that were following them. There were shouts from behind.
They sprinted out of the alley into a road that was six lanes wide. They ran across the road and up a small bank. Shots came from behind them. They crested the small rise and ran into a ten-foot-high wire fence. There was more gunfire from behind.
Sebastian acted without thinking. He cleared his mind and ran his hand over the wire, which sprang apart under his touch. He pulled the wire back and they both squeezed through the opening. He turned back to the fence and focused his mind. The wire healed itself.
They ran, heads down, away from the fence. There was shouting from behind. Sebastian glanced over his shoulder. One of the spider-tanks had reached the fence. It put a large foot down on the long expanse of wire, crushing it, and the Chargers lumbered across in their exosuits. Several soldiers dropped to their knees and fired.
Ahead were several massive gray cylinders standing on end; an expanse of open ground lay between where they were and the silos. The ground exploded in front of them.
Several soldiers, dressed in red tunics, brown pants, and white helmets stepped out from behind the silos.
“That’s the Forty-ninth,” Memphis said. “We’re trapped between them and the Chargers.”
The soldiers of the 49th maneuvered in tightly coordinated movements, creating an impenetrable defensive barrier in front of Sebastian and Memphis. More shouts and the sound of firing came from behind as the Chargers rallied.
Memphis grabbed his hand and charged perpendicularly, away from the two armies. In front of them was a narrow, but deep, pit. They jumped down into in a foul-smelling liquid. They crouched down in the ditch while the Chargers and the 49th fired at each other above their heads. In a lull, they risked a quick look over the lip of their hideaway. A flaming piece of metal landed on Sebastian’s shoulder.
Memphis furiously patted out the flames on the smoldering cloth. “If the flames had caught the fumes from this liquid we would’ve burned to a cinder. We’re in a huge refinery. Can you smell the fuel in the air? One little spark and the whole place could go up.”