Defenders

by Will McIntosh

  Then he noticed the lights had dimmed. He’d thought it was the aftereffects of the bright flash, but it wasn’t—the lights in the kitchen were out, and so were the ones in the hallway. The circuit had blown.

  In the kitchen, Erik groaned.

  Kai stopped breathing, strained to see Erik in the dim light filtering through the living room windows.

  Erik lifted his head. His normally flat, fishlike eyes were lit with astonishment. Kai felt a terrible, sinking dread as Erik pawed feebly at the wet floor. He looked as weak as a puppy, but he wouldn’t stay that way. He’d get up, if Kai didn’t stop him.

  Kai burst from the closet, cast about for a weapon. He spotted the row of kitchen knives jutting from the block above the counter. He pulled out the biggest one with his good hand.

  His heart was tripping, his breath coming in a wheeze as he splashed through the inch-deep water. Erik muttered something, rolled onto his back, raised an arm as Kai lunged. Kai knocked Erik’s weakened arm away and stabbed him in the chest.

  Erik hissed like he was filled with air and Kai had popped him, but it was blood, not air, that spattered Kai’s hands and face. He pulled the knife free and stabbed again, harder this time, horrified by the feel of it sinking into Erik’s chest.

  This time Erik screamed in pain and rage; his big fist came down on Kai’s head, knocking him to the floor. Kai struggled to his knees, raised the knife, and stabbed again with all of his might as Erik howled.

  Suddenly Kai was on his back. Lila was standing over him, her screams merging with Erik’s.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kai stared up at her, gasping for breath, feeling like he’d been caught doing something unspeakable.

  Lila knelt beside Erik, her knees in pink water.

  Kai sat up. He watched Lila, who was sobbing and holding Erik’s face. She looked back at him. “Where is Errol?”

  “He’s at Charlie’s. He’s safe.”

  “What happened? Did he attack you?”

  “He would have,” Kai said. He spotted an assault rifle lying on the floor along the wall. That’s what he’d heard clatter to the floor after Erik barged in. Kai pointed at it. “He brought that with him.”

  “Lila,” Erik said, his voice a deep gurgle.

  Lila put her face close to Erik’s. “I’m here.”

  In that moment Erik looked as human as Kai had ever seen him. His face was twisted in pain, or regret, or something, and spattered with blood. His forehead was a series of ripples. Kai wasn’t sorry he’d done it, wasn’t sorry Erik was dying, but he was sorry Erik was suffering. Kai knew what it felt like.

  Outside, he heard the sound of gunfire, then the boom of a howitzer, or tank. It was starting.

  “Are you sad to see me this way, Lila?” Erik asked.

  “Yes, Erik, I am.”

  That seemed to console Erik. Kai watched as he shuddered and died in Lila’s arms.

  Lila stood, looked around the flooded kitchen, clearly trying to make sense of the scene. She looked at Kai. “What happened?”

  Kai gestured toward Erik. “He was going to kill me. I could read it in his face this morning when he left. So I rigged a trap and killed him first.”

  Lila frowned. “You rigged a trap? What do you mean?”

  “I ran an electrical current through the faucet.”

  “You ran…” Lila absorbed this for a moment, as outside, the booming and popping of battle intensified.

  “Lila, don’t blame me for being the one who’s not dead.”

  Lila covered her eyes with her palm. “But you stabbed him. I saw you.”

  Kai stood slowly. He looked at his hands, caked with drying blood. The water was still running. He thrust them under the faucet; the chilly water turned light pink. Tendrils of deeper red carried up and out of the sink, over the counter.

  Lila left the kitchen as he dried his hands on a towel hanging from the oven door. He could hear her in one of the bedrooms, opening and closing drawers.

  Erik’s assault rifle still lay on the floor in the living room. Kai went and picked it up. It weighed at least thirty pounds.

  Lila reappeared carrying an oversized beige bedspread. She used it to cover Erik.

  “I have to get out there and help,” Kai said.

  Lila looked at the rifle in his hands. “What? No. You’re part of the command team. We need you.”

  A red stain had bloomed on the bedspread; it grew as Kai watched. “No, you don’t. I’m not CIA, or State Department, or a genetic engineer. I’m a poker player and a war veteran. I’d be more useful out there.” He motioned toward the door with his head.

  Lila reached up, grabbed his face with both hands, and turned it toward hers. He hadn’t realized it, but he was avoiding her eyes. “You’ll die out there. Please don’t go.”

  Kai didn’t answer.

  “You’re going out there to prove you didn’t have anything against Erik personally. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t have said it.” She drew him into a hug. “This is all so fucked-up. Sometimes I’m not even sure whose side I’m on.” She pressed her face into his shoulder.

  “It’s not that. Honestly.” He wanted to explain why he felt the need to go out there, but he wasn’t sure himself. He had to go for the same reason as everyone else. To fix their fucked-up world.

  “You’re still trying to live down The Boy Who Betrayed the World,” Lila said. “You took four bullets. You’ve done your part, okay?”

  Kai smiled sadly. “Everybody’s done their part. There’s no one who’s coming fresh to this fight.”

  Lila inhaled to say something, then simply hugged him tighter. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you die out there.”

  He didn’t want to make a promise that was outside his control. “Soon we’ll be able to live a normal, boring life. You, me, and Errol.” He lifted the rifle, turned toward the door. “I’ll meet you at Oliver’s apartment.”

  “That’s another reason I wanted you to come,” Lila called after him. “They kicked me out. I’m not being a team player.”

  “Be a team player. Just go, before things get too bad out there. They love you.”

  “Five doesn’t love me.”

  Kai laughed. “Well no, Five doesn’t.”

  “When will you meet me there?”

  He looked back at her. “When I’m too tired to fight. Figure twenty-four hours.”

  86

  Kai Zhou

  January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  As soon as Kai was outside, a Luyten was in his head.

  Head toward Lester Avenue. Eight blocks.

  When Kai reached for his keys, the Luyten added, We’re setting up roadblocks to slow the defenders’ tanks. Go on foot. We can use that assault rifle. And congratulations on your kill. Sometimes Lila’s past blinds her to some harsh realities; put her reaction out of your mind and focus on the fight at hand. She loves you. She’s thinking about how much she loves you right now; she regrets the accusation she made.

  Kai was sure the Luyten speaking in his head was neither Five nor the crimson one, yet it spoke as if it were an old friend, or, better yet, his shrink. He hadn’t realized they were offering soldiers psychological services as well as tactical direction.

  He also hadn’t realized he was letting the encounter with Lila bother him, but he’d take the Luyten’s word for it. He willed himself to focus on the landscape, the smell of oily smoke, the sound of gunfire and, farther off, artillery fire. A defender fighter jet roared past overhead, flying close to the ground.

  The streets were nearly empty. People appeared and disappeared, running bent at the waist, carrying axes or knives. They were men and women, young and old. Occasionally someone passed who looked to be flat-out fleeing. Kai wondered if some were refusing to follow the Luyten’s directions.

  Some. About a third, although the number is dropping as they see others fight alongside us. You’re highly social animals. Like us.

  As he approached Lester Avenue,
the Luyten said, Change of plans. Get inside the copy store up ahead. The red door.

  Kai saw the door it was talking about and hurried inside, his bad leg throbbing.

  There’s a staircase in the back.

  It led him to an upstairs storage room with windows facing the street, instructed him to bust in the window with the nose of his rifle. He pushed a pallet of boxes filled with reams of paper into place to brace the butt of the rifle, got situated just as a defender trotted into view across the street. It was in full body armor.

  Several dozen people advanced on it, surging toward cover behind parked vehicles, behind the corners of buildings. The defender raised his rifle, fired, hit a woman square in the chest. She fell backward, lay unmoving.

  Kai didn’t notice the Luyten on the roof above the defender until it leaped, dropping three stories, landing right on the defender’s back. Somehow the defender stayed upright. He tried to angle his rifle to get a shot at the Luyten, while struggling to keep the butcher knife the Luyten was gripping away from his throat. The humans used the opportunity to charge. They closed on the defender from both sides, hacked at his thighs and feet with their makeshift weapons.

  Howling in pain, the defender lashed out, slashing them with the blades on his legs and arms. Blood sprayed across the pavement as people suffered terrible wounds and dropped like sacks.

  A second defender surged into view. Kai didn’t need the Luyten to tell him what to do: He trained his sights on the defender and squeezed a quick burst from the rifle. It bucked violently. He gripped the rifle with his left hand, held it in place with all of his might, and squeezed off another round, then another, hitting the defender squarely in the chest and knocking it to the ground.

  The defender’s body armor meant the shots weren’t lethal, but as soon as it was down, people attacked it, aiming for the face with their blades and bats.

  A woman showed up holding a handgun like she knew how to use one, probably former police or military. She pushed into the crowd of assailants and put two slugs in the defender’s face, point-blank.

  Thirty seconds later, the street was deserted except for the dead. They were listening to the Luyten. And why not? It was working; the Luyten were coordinating them into an incredibly efficient force, using a million sets of eyes and ears to know what was happening everywhere, benefiting from brains that allowed them to think a dozen things at once, able to move their forces with a split second’s notice. Kai hadn’t realized just how lethal the combination of humans and Luyten would be.

  The defenders in your area are withdrawing. That means an air strike is coming. Move.

  Kai grabbed the rifle and bolted down the stairs and through the store, out into the street, his hip screaming from the exertion.

  Head west—to your left. Run. As fast as you can.

  Kai ran.

  87

  Oliver Bowen

  January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  “What are they doing?” Oliver’s heart had been racing for so long, he was sure a heart attack was imminent. He watched as, on a half dozen of the feeds, the defenders hopped into transport vehicles, or ran, away from the fight.

  They’re executing a retrograde action. A tactical retreat. We have an overwhelming advantage in troop numbers, so we’re trying to take the fight close-in, to capitalize on that advantage. Their strength is their weaponry. They want to get their troops away from us, into tanks and bombers. This was one of the weaknesses your military strategists identified: The defenders have plenty of weapons, but most of their troops are embedded within human communities. If we can keep them from reaching those weapons, they can’t use them.

  “How are we going to stop them?” Vanessa asked, watching the screen from behind Oliver. Oliver was acutely aware of her hand resting on his shoulder. He thought that maybe, finally, Vanessa was back in his life. This time, he wasn’t going to lose her.

  Thanks to our defender “spies,” we know most of their rendezvous points. We’ve been sending our troops to those places, to get between them and their weapons.

  “Yes, but Oliver said our troops are poorly armed. They’ll be cut to pieces,” Vanessa said.

  Remember all of those armed Luyten encampments we discussed? The ones that made Lila so angry?

  “Holy shit,” Oliver said. “They’re heading to these rendezvous points.”

  Bingo.

  88

  Lila Easterlin

  January 18, 2048. Washington, D.C.

  It was Armageddon. No one was going to win. There would be nothing left by the time it was over, nothing but piles of rubble, and a few bloodied humans, mangled Luyten, and burned defenders, still fighting.

  Lila hurried down Lester Avenue, past people carrying knives and machetes, past burning buildings. The thump of rounds hitting targets registered deep in her belly, reminding her of Australia. The rising chaos played out over flashbacks of Kai lifting and plunging that knife while Erik screamed. She would never have believed Kai capable of that kind of violence, even to save his own life.

  But she was thinking of the prewar Kai, the one who hadn’t fought the defenders, hadn’t been shredded by their giant bullets. He wasn’t the same Kai; she had to accept that, and love him just the same.

  Up ahead, the road was blocked by a semi tipped on its side. It blocked the intersection so perfectly that Lila was sure it had been put there on purpose. She pulled her Lightfoot to the curb and stepped out. It was four blocks to Oliver’s apartment. She took off at a brisk jog, thankful she’d sworn off heels in favor of jogging shoes since that fateful day in Australia.

  Defenders are headed your way. Duck inside—the white door just ahead on your left. It was her old friend, the crimson Luyten. The door opened before Lila reached it; a plump old woman with dyed red hair waved her in.

  “Thanks,” Lila gasped as the woman swung the door closed. The apartment was small and cramped, the walls covered by paintings, all in the same style. “Are you an artist?”

  “My daughter.”

  Lila nodded as she peered out the living room window. A phalanx of defenders rolled by in big, black troop transport vehicles. The streets were left utterly empty in their wake.

  All clear.

  “Thank you,” Lila said to the woman as she slipped out. She took off at a run. Less than two blocks. She wondered how things were going. Maybe it was too early to tell. One thing was certain: There would be far fewer beings left alive when this was over. It was hard to believe that not long ago, there had been eight or nine billion humans on the planet. Assuming they won, would there be even one billion left?

  Lila spotted Oliver’s apartment less than a block away. She wondered if they’d be happy to see her. When she’d left she’d felt like an outsider, a gadfly. Maybe they needed a gadfly to stay on their guard—

  An explosion knocked her to the ground. Chunks of stone and wood rained down, most of it landing short of Lila. The air was suddenly choked with gray smoke; some of the buildings ahead were missing, leaving a ragged gap.

  A gap where Oliver’s apartment building had been.

  “Oliver. Dominique.” Lila scrambled to her feet, ran for the place where the bomb had hit, stumbling through increasingly thick rubble. She had to be wrong; the sudden devastation had disoriented her. That couldn’t have been Oliver’s building. Maybe it was the next block…

  It was, Lila. I’m sorry.

  “No!” Lila pushed through the rubble until she couldn’t get any closer. She gripped a two-by-four, pulled it out of her way, trying to identify where she needed to dig, where Oliver’s living room had been.

  She stood, raised her arms toward the sky. “Where are you? Help me. God damn it, help me find them.”

  Dominique and Forrest are safe, at their apartment. But Oliver, I’m sorry, he’s—

  “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it. You come here and help me.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes; her fingers came away bloody. “Why didn’t you warn them? Why didn�
�t you get them out of there? You warned me.”

  She spotted the crimson Luyten coming around the corner, bolting toward her on all seven limbs. We didn’t know. Your spies aren’t everywhere; we only hear pieces of their plans. I’m sorry.

  “Get Kai. Tell him we need him.”

  All right. We’re telling him now.

  “Now help me find them.”

  The crimson Luyten joined her among the wreckage. It leaned in, grasped what seemed to be an entire wall tented onto a pile of bricks, and pushed it aside.

  “Oliver?” Lila called. He couldn’t be gone; Lila’s mind clamped shut on the possibility. He just couldn’t. “How far away is Kai?”

  The crimson Luyten had been straining to lift a support beam; it let the beam drop. They’re going to firebomb the entire downtown.

  “What? When?”

  Humans and Luyten keep following their troops, staying close so they can’t use their WMDs. They’re not going to wait for the defenders to get out. We have to run.

  “Not until we find him.” She dug at the wreckage. The jagged edge of a window frame sliced her palm as she pushed it aside. “Oliver? Was Vanessa with him?”

  The Luyten rushed at Lila, getting far too close to her for comfort. Adrenaline coursed through her as it gripped her wrist and ankles with its cilia, hoisted her effortlessly.

  She shrieked, thrashing with all of her might. Its skin was rough and lumpy, uncomfortably warm.

  We have to get out of here. Please stop struggling. It took off, hurtling down the street, jostling her violently as it dodged and leaped over debris, sometimes moving on three appendages, sometimes four or five. Suddenly it cut toward the sidewalk, cut into a shaded, open-air mall, and ducked against the wall. It went motionless, not even breathing.