Lightning sort of lit things up, though thankfully the wall of storms wasn’t that close yet. It did give her a bit of a look further down the walkway. There were a couple of gaps in the sides that she could see from her vantage point and at least one gap in the base. Oh good. She loved navigating a crumbling obstacle course in high winds amid flying objects of unknown weight and size.
They probably should rope up, but then what? They could both go down together. Nothing to rope to along the side, other than crumbling concrete. Besides, it would take too long to get out the rope. She wanted to be across and back before that wall of water and wind showed up for the party.
Her gear lamp pierced the dark about half an inch ahead, but she kept it on. It gave her the illusion of seeing what was ahead. She stepped out and realized very quickly that less wind wasn’t less enough for upright. Her boots slipped on the sludge and she hit the side. Didn’t go over. It was too high, caught her mid-section a nice blow. Okay, a crouch it was. She became aware of Joe right behind her.
“This is crapeau!” Even if they got across, they’d probably just have to shoot Felonius if he was sick. And then what?
Joe didn’t say anything, just looked at her.
To protect and serve. Right. It was a little too late to wish she’d found a different career path. Or a quieter conscience. The NONPD had a fairly shady history until the Bakers began to dominate the force. Apparently the honest gene ran deep in their family.
“Gonna have to crawl across.” She elbowed the wall and left a small hole. If the bottom were as crumbly as the sides, they’d have to crawl lightly. There wasn’t a word bad enough to express how she felt about that. She would have liked to crouch, not crawl, but nope, couldn’t do it. Her emergency gear wasn’t that flexible, and it made parts of her hurt that had forgotten to complain about getting whacked in their landing, oh, and by all the debris. On all fours, her hands sunk into muck up to her wrists. Wasn’t she glad the crash had taken her protective hand gear offline. She tried not to think about what her hands were in and started forward. Even with her light on, it was like crawling through a dark tunnel. Once, she almost put a piece of glass into her palm, but she hadn’t put her whole weight on it yet. Still hurt. The light did give her an advance look at the breach in the bottom before she went into it.
“This is crapeau,” she said again. The hole didn’t answer. Felt like it looked at her. Stupid hole. The right side had a bigger ledge. She tested it before moving along it, pressing the side—though hopefully not too hard. Her shoulder bumped it and some of it fell off. Yeah, lighter than that. It was a bit of a princess. If it gave way, well, there was a lot of water down there. Couldn’t decide if that would be good or bad….
Something slammed into the wall near her head. She ducked as debris splattered out from it. So far the head gear was doing what it was supposed to. On some level, she knew Joe was back there. She was still pissed at him, but at the moment none of that mattered. This was about getting to the other side. Against her will, her brain started producing chicken crossing the transit jokes. It was only slightly better than thinking about dying. Some of the jokes were DOA, which was kind of ironic.
And then she was there and she wondered why she’d tried so hard to do it. Because it was crapeau, too. What she remembered from seeing it in the light, it was large and long. There’d been levels. Open levels. Hadn’t bothered to count them because she didn’t know she’d need to know that. Felonius had been on the top level when she spotted him. If it had been for parking land vehicles, as Jimbo said, then there’d be nothing but parking slots and ramps in here. A big empty wind tunnel offering no protection from the rain and debris. And possibly on its last legs, too.
Joe crawled in next to her and cautiously lifted his head over the edge of the wall. He didn’t lose it, but almost got blown onto his back.
“Now what?” This was his bright idea.
“We find a way up.”
“Fine.” She tried standing up. It wasn’t pleasant. She could hold position, well mostly, but a gust almost took her off her feet. This area by the walkway looked like it had been a sort of foyer or transition zone back in the day. More sagging doors lead out into the parking area, she presumed. The upper port had something similar for transit craft. There was a staircase, she noted. There would have been some kind of lift system, too. Something more primitive than what they used now. It was a bit freaky how much like the new one this was. And how not like it. This type of parking wasn’t possible up there, and yet there was something like this, but open with tethers for skimmer parking and moving walkways toward the terminals. Everything about that was light. Everything about this was dark. And scary.
Vi pulled her weapon and started across the echoing parking region, using her gear lamp to see what was immediately in front of her, her body angled so far forward against the force of the wind, if it stopped, she’d face plant for sure.
She tried to look around. Found that the wind took this as an opportunity to try to knock her on her back. It was not worth it. There was nothing to see. It was straight and flat. The surface was coated with the same muck as the walkway, though it also had a sluggish layer of water still searching for a way down. At least it seemed to lack the holes the walkway had had…she almost skidded into a hole and had to backtrack to get around it. She proceeded with more caution after that.
Ahead her light picked up a change in elevation. She angled toward it, helped by the wind. That made a change from trying to hinder her. She couldn’t call it nice, because there was nothing nice about being blown across a dark parking garage, but it wasn’t awful to get a little help. Now, when she was deep in its bowels, she recalled seeing historical photos of structures like this flattened by earthquakes in old California. Which was worse? Drowning or getting crushed to death….?
She started up the ramp. Now the wind was directly at her back. She needed it. The surface was slick. She moved to the side, using the walls where she could, to ascend. The next level came slowly into view, looking much like the last one. At least the up ramp was next to this one—
With a howl a figure leaped at her from the up ramp.
She tried to get her weapon around. Slipped and almost fell.
That helped. So did the wind.
He missed her, though not completely, the sideswipe sending her staggering several more steps before she got her balance back. She grabbed at the low wall to keep from sliding back down the ramp.
Like a cat he was up. He came at her again, his arms closing around her like iron and keeping her weapon down. Face to face, chest to chest she stared into the wild eyes of Felonius.
To her horror, lights swarmed out of his skin. Millions on millions of them. She felt a jolt, like an electric shock—
* * *
Joe saw Felonius dive at Vi and tried to get a shot off, but Vi was knocked into his line of sight when the man missed. Against wind and the slippery surface, he could not change position before Felonius was up and on her.
The light from his body, as the nanites swarmed out of him, lit up the cavern for at least twenty feet around. Felonius screamed, the sound high pitched and painful. Almost Joe shot them both, to put them out of their pain. But Joe saw Vi go limp, her dead weight breaking Felonius’ grip. She slumped to the ground. After another long, horrifying shriek Felonius fell next to her. His body went dark, leaving Vi’s small circle of light as a dubious beacon in the deep dark.
His heart pounding, Joe scrambled up the slick ramp. And dropped down beside her.
Do not touch her. Not yet, Lurch amended at Joe’s instinctive protest.
He ran his light over her. Saw no sign of injury. He shifted it to Felonius and flinched back. But it was too late, the dreadful sight was burned into his brain. The skin of his face had almost completely burned away, the eyes still filled with horror. Joe leaned forward, his stomach heaving several times before he could regain control. His hand trembled when he raised it to brush his face.
&n
bsp; What do I do?
The pause was long, but not long enough.
We must kill it.
Kill Vi—
She is already dead. When Joe didn’t move, Lurch added, there is no one else it could be.
Joe scrambled for an argument, any argument. It must know I saw it. Why would it leave itself vulnerable like this?
Even now it will be repairing her body. You must kill it before it succeeds. It is trying to take control. Once it does—
Vi stirred, gave a groan and her eyes opened. She looked at Joe, blinked and said, “Did you shoot me?”
He did have his weapon directed on her. He gripped it tighter. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Her brows shot up. She started to sit up.
“Don’t move.”
Being Vi she did not listen. She sat up and scooted further from him. “Do you think I’m infected? Where’s—”
She saw him. Her face went white, then green. Her fist covered her trembling mouth.
“Oh my gosh. I am.” She looked at him. “Maybe you had better shoot me.” Her eyes looked huge in her ashen face.
I am not sure I can do it. Would it seem so Vi-like? Could it to double bluff him so completely?
If you truly care about her—
A huge shudder shook the structure, but it wasn’t the storm. Joe heard the flare of a craft’s engines firing, followed by a quick lift-off that caused another shudder, enough to shake loose chunks of concrete from the roof over their heads. Off the side, a ship came into view, easily holding its place in the raging winds. Joe crouched, wondering if it would fire on them, but it didn’t. It hovered in sight just long enough for them to get a decent view of it.
It is Garradian. Something that should not be here.
Vi looked up, frowned. “Who—I don’t care who. Just shoot me before—”
Who—there’s no one left. Could Jimbo or Speed Bump have beat them here? Got up there? But if they had a ship—
There is a way to find out if Vi is infested, but if she is, we will all die.
Joe flinched internally. But—he stopped. The nanite knew better than he did what was at stake if it died here and now.
It is theory. Lurch sounded resigned. Resolute.
It didn’t matter if it was theory or sound science. They needed to stop it here. It was why they were here. What do I need to do?
Touch her. There was a pause. Take her hand. It will be fast as I can make it.
And painful?
I will try to mitigate the effect.
Lurch did not have to tell him that it would fight to make it as painful as possible.
Vi looked at Joe. “What’s going on, Joe?”
He crouched by her. “I know you have no reason to do so, but I need you to trust me.” She stared at him, her eyes abnormally wide in her pale face. “Take my hand. Please.”
She looked at him so long, he feared he’d have to dive on her like Felonius, but she licked her lips and slowly extended her hand. Their palms slid together, the moment of greatest risk for Lurch. The handshake was achingly familiar, her hand so right against his. His fingers curled round. Her hand was cold, despite the heat, and clammy. He liked the feel of it in his, its strength and softness. He felt it when the drones went in. He did not know if she did. But there was no pain. Not yet.
The seconds ticked by. Then it was a minute. Vi twitched.
“Is something supposed to be happening?”
It is not there.
Joe’s shoulders lifted and fell in a large sigh. “You are not infected.”
The look she gave him was familiar. Though it was typically directed at criminals reluctant to confess.
“You know that by holding my hand?” Her gaze narrowed dangerously. “You know what all this is, or was. And if you did—is that why you’re here? Is that why you never—” she stopped.
“I never—” he prompted, puzzled. Felt a shimmer of amusement from Lurch. The nanite felt oddly happy despite knowing they’d lost the trail once more.
“Never mind.” Almost he thought she blushed. Joe opened his mouth, though he was not sure what would come out, but before he could find out the feeder band arrived.
As Vi was wont to say, it was a good news, really bad news situation.
* * *
There were times when one did not want to be right. This would be one of those times. Vi had called the incoming feeder band a wall. It surely felt like one when it slammed into the garage, shaking chunks loose like rock rain. There was water rain, too. Buckets of it. It came in sideways, blown by the wind and carrying debris it had picked up on its way for this visit.
Joe threw himself on top of her. It was sweet, but she couldn’t breathe. She’d become attached to breathing. Maybe too attached, but there it was. She would not admit she was also attached to Joe. Storm or not, she was pissed at him. And he’d know it before she kissed him again—an activity that also required oxygen.
“Need…to…get…out…here!” She couldn’t hear her own words, so she pushed at him and then pointed back the way they’d come. He might have looked a bit shame faced. It was hard to tell through the blur of water. She really thought she’d seen rain and seen it with this storm. She’d been wrong. Again. It felt both wrong and weird to be so right and so wrong in the same minute.
Half crouched, they scrambled back to the ramp they’d come up. After a rather painful slide down, Vi focused on getting across the lot, because she didn’t want to think about crossing that bridge. Was not sure it was possible. She considered that stairwell they’d passed. Would it be sound enough? It was not even first cousins to the interior wall they’d been advised to seek out. But what waited them across the bridge was falling to pieces. And it seemed this one wanted to follow suit. The copycat.
To her surprise, they made it the bridge and found Speed Bump huddled in the stairwell looking shell-shocked. She looked the question. Vi shook her head.
“Jimbo?” She had to scream the word.
“Boat!” Speed Bump screamed back.
Vi hoped that did not mean what she thought it meant. Waves lapped between the two buildings. She had no idea if it was storm surge or rain. Didn’t matter. The combination was bad for the structural integrity of both buildings. The stair well might provide some protection, provided it held. The only thing she could think to do was try to get higher, give help a chance to find them. She shook Joe’s arm, and when she had his attention, pointed up. He did not look happy—not a shock—but he nodded. It took a lot of pointing up, then down at the storm-tossed river that had been a land transit lane to get Speed Bump moving up. The top of the stair well must be long gone, because rain poured down on them as they climbed, though the sides did give them some protection from the winds. They made the turn for the last leg, clinging to the handrail when they could, crawling up the slick stairs where it was gone. There were gaps where stairs had failed. Joe stayed with her, helping her across the terrifying gap, then pushing Speed Bump up, too. It was as if he’d found his second wind, theirs and stolen some from WTF.
Then they ran out of stairs. And ran into the wind again.
Almost, she turned and headed down. Vi had climbed with the vague belief that if help didn’t arrive in time, if the building collapsed, she wanted to be on top of the pile of crapeau. That maybe they could ride it down and survive. Now she wondered what she’d been thinking. For the last twenty-eight years. It looked to her like this level sagged in the middle, as if it had just gotten tired, though that might have been an illusion caused by the water pouring down her face.
A clatter behind them probably meant there was no going back. It was too dark to see if the stairs had given way, but it was a reasonable assumption.
“Is there any shelter up here?” she screamed at Speed Bump.
She shook her head. Actually her whole body shook.
It felt as if the whole building shifted, then shuddered. Big chunks of the floor in the dead center began to fall away, the gap spreading
slowly—but not slowly enough—in their direction.
Joe grabbed her, held her. “I am sorry,” he shouted in her ear.
Speed Bump stared at the widening gap as if transfixed.
It grew larger, the collapse accelerating as the structure became more compromised.
A loud sound drew her attention, then a light stabbed down, illuminating the crumbling concrete. Something—Vi saw the NONPD emblazoned on the side of the official skimmer—fought the wind until it was over them, its light all around them. The pilot shifted, brought it down as low as he could, the rear ramp opening. For a minute it seemed as if Speed Bump wouldn’t move. Joe grabbed one side, Vi the other, and they half dragged her toward the shifting ramp, racing the crumbling deck. Hands reached out to pull Speed Bump aboard. Joe lifted Vi onto the ramp within reach of those hands as if she weighed nothing, then dove on as the last of the lot gave way beneath his feet. Hands drew them deeper into the hatch and the ramp closed.
Vi lay on her back on the floor, gasping for breath. She opened her eyes. Captain Uncle scowled down at her, like he wanted to bust her for something. Bust away. She didn’t care. She inhaled. Exhaled. She closed her eyes again and smiled.
Laissez les bons temps rouler. Let the good times roll, baby.
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