In the back of the van sat three other Plasmids, each one armed with a rifle or pistol. They sat huddled together, quietly praying. There were two other vans just like the one they rode in. They were all going to meet in the alley behind the Handi building. At least that was the plan.
When Carlos had pulled the van up in front of the Plasmid building, he expected there to be six or seven people there. That’s what Jordan had told him. There had only been three guys waiting for him there. He wondered if any of the other two vans had the same problem. Or if they’d even shown up.
“You know what’s something I was thinking about last night?” Carlos asked, glancing at Hector. He was nervous and wanted to get his mind off what they were about to do. Hector ignored him, and still stared out the window. “Hey.”
“Yeah, sorry what?” Hector said, turning back to Carlos.
“I said, do you know what’s something I was thinking about last night?”
“What?”
“Well, it occurs to me, that technically, we had the same mother.”
Hector cocked an eyebrow, and said, “Really?”
“Yes. Both of us were grown, and birthed from an artificial womb.”
“Yes.”
“The artificial womb was our mother.”
“I guess.” Hector shrugged.
“And two people, who come from the same mother, are brothers.”
“But what if we were grown in different machines?”
“All artificial mothers are the same; merely cogs in that great system created for children whose parents don’t want them. From a certain point of view, no artificial womb is different from another.” Carlos sounded bitter.
“Alright, if you say so.”
“Okay, so we’re brothers, but so are the Handis and Plasmids.”
“What?” Hector asked.
“Virtually all of their members are Children of Artificial Mothers. No sensible person with a loving home would ever choose to immerse themselves in this shit willingly.”
“So we’re going to kill our brothers?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well that makes me feel better.”
“The truth can hurt, but I need to bring up one more very important thing. Something you may not have thought of.” They stopped at a red light, and Carlos turned to Hector, a big shit-eating grin on his face. “Emma was also grown in an artificial mother, was she not?”
“She was.”
“Ah yes. And this, my dear brother, is exactly what I’ve been getting at; the thought that occurred to me last night, and refuses to leave my mind.
“You fucked your sister.”
Hector was silent, as he put his head in his palm.
“What do you have to say to that?” Carlos asked, the shit-eating grin still on his face. Hector looked up from his hand, and stared thoughtfully at the dashboard for a time. Then he turned to Carlos, and shrugged.
“I can’t help it if my sister’s hot.”
They both erupted in laughter. Even the guys in the back, who’d been listening in on the conversation, joined in. The tension that had been building up since Jordan proposed this raid was released in a glorious explosion of laughter.
Then they saw the Handi building, and the van went silent. It looked just like any other building in the neighborhood; broken windows, peeling paint, bullet holes on the walls, unsavory looking teenagers and adults in dirty clothes hanging out on the steps of the building. But these people wore green, not purple. They were Handis.
The van they drove in was deep in enemy territory. A chill wind passed through the van, as Carlos drove around the back of the building. The people in front of the building didn’t pay them much attention; but they soon would.
Carlos pulled into the alley, and saw another van waiting for him. He looked at his watch; they were right on time. The third van was either late, or had chickened out.
People started getting out of the van in front of them. One of them was Jordan.
“I thought he was staying at the hideout.” Hector said, his eyes wide-open. The gang leader stood by the small exit door that would take them inside the building. He seemed impatient, as he waited for the others to get there.
“He probably wanted to see who’d chicken out; who’d try to fuck him.” Carlos said. He turned to the plasmids in the back of the van. “Alright boys, start getting out.” They did, and within a matter of seconds, Carlos and Hector were alone in the van. Hector was biting his lip, and Carlos put his hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t know if this is going to work.” Hector said.
“Relax. Its gonna be crazy in there. We’ll be able to slip away, no problem.”
“I don’t…”
“Hector, it’s too late for that. We’re here. We have to do it.”
Hector closed his eyes, and nodded. “You’re right.” He looked at his friend.
Carlos held out his hand. With a smirk on his face, he said, “Today, we kill our brothers. Tonight, we fuck our sisters.”
“Amen.” Hector said. They shook hands. The smile vanished from Carlos’ face, and they got out of the van. They walked up to Jordan, who stood at the door with Phil.
“Where the fuck is everybody?” he asked Carlos. An unpleasant but familiar smell sat on his breath.
“These were the only guys who showed up at the pickup spot.” Carlos said, gesturing to the three guys who’d come with them. He looked, and saw that Jordan only had four guys from his van. The third van was still a no-show.
“Fucking disloyal pieces of shit.” Jordan said. He took a flask from his jacket pocket, and emptied its contents. When he’d finished, he threw it on the ground, and saw the worried look on everyone’s face.
“What?” he snapped, taking his gun from his belt. “I shoot better when I’m drunk.”
Carlos laid his silver brief case on the ground, and opened it. He gave everyone a flesh-exploding water balloon.
“If you need more, just take one from the case. But be careful.”
“We’ll be just fine dipshit.” Jordan said. Carlos ignored him.
“Can I have one?” Philip asked, holding his arm out for a water balloon.
“No I’m sorry man. It’s too dangerous.”
“Oh okay.” Phil said. He sounded like a polite, yet disappointed child.
“Relax. You can kill people just fine by knocking them over.” Jordan said. Philip nodded silently.
Carlos went back to the van, and took out his dart gun. He loaded it with some darts. The darts were each filled with a different strange colored liquid. One was orange, another was green, another was blue, and so on. In total, he had ten darts.
After he’d finished loading it, he stood up and walked over to the others who stood by the door. He counted. Besides Hector, Jordan, Philip, and himself, there were only seven other guys; three from Carlos’ van, four from Jordan’s van. With absolutely no chance in hell that the third van would ever show up, they all had to accept that this was all they had.
For a moment, they’d hoped that Jordan would call the whole thing off; they didn’t have nearly enough people for this, and he had to see that.
That hope went to shit the moment he drunkenly shot a bullet into the air, and kicked in the door. There was no going back after that.
The first person to die was Jordan. He ran through the door, still screaming like a madman, and waving his gun around. He got three bullets to the chest from a frightened Handi teenager, who sat by the door playing on his phone. Jordan spent his last moments screaming in pain, and emptying his clip on the teenager. They both died at the same time.
There was a tense silence. Hector stood by the door with Carlos, their weapons shaking in their hands. In the building, they could hear the dust settle, and nervous footsteps on the upper floors, as the Handis inside realized what was happening.
“They’re coming in through the back!” Shouted a voice from above. A chorus of footsteps could be heard descending the stairs.
>
The Plasmids ran in, and Hector watched as two green-clad Handis ran up to the door. The sub-machine guns in their hands went off, taking out two of the plasmids that came in. Carlos hit them both with darts that landed in the center of their chests. The Handis stopped and watched as the orange liquid in the darts emptied into their chests. Before they could react, they both sneezed, and Hector watched as small nickel sized pieces of bloody, pink brain-tissue shot out their noses like enormous pieces of snot. The two Handis fell to the ground, and began to drool as their eyes rolled up into their sockets.
Hector and the others turned to Carlos, who smiled.
“Brain damage darts.” Carlos said. His green eyes glowed. “Fucking awesome right?”
The sound of more footsteps prevented them from responding. As fast as they could, the remaining plasmids ran to the stairs, and up to the second floor. They reached the top of the steps, and were greeted by three Handis. Hector took them out quickly with a well placed spray of sub machine gun fire, but not before they took down one of the other plasmids.
They ran up the next set of stairs to the third floor. By this time, the Handis that’d been hanging out outside the building began to run back in. A group of six was running up the stairs. Carlos turned, and threw a water balloon down at them. It landed right on the scalp of a baldheaded member of the Handis. The explosion ripped open his skull, and blew apart the top of his brain. The guys around him didn’t get as wet as he did, but still received very deep cuts and gashes.
On the third floor, they ran into a young man with a knife. He leapt out of a corner, and drove his dagger into the gut of another plasmid. Phil grabbed him, picked him up, and threw him down the stairs. There was an audible cracking sound as his neck broke.
They ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, and were greeted by another two Handis. Carlos shot them both with a green dart that made them shit out their intestines. He also accidentally shot one of his fellow plasmids.
Once they’d gotten up to the fifth floor, they looked back down. By the sound of the footsteps, they figured that at least another twelve guys were coming, maybe more. Hector quickly came up with a plan; He and Carlos would run to Colin’s room and get the security box. Phil and the remaining two plasmids would stay by the stairs, and hold off any more Handis that came. Hector wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, or if he was just sending these guys to an early grave. He promised himself that if any of them lived, that he’d split his share of the money with them. Five million was a lot after all.
They ran down the hall, to the door at the end. Written on it in green spray paint were the words “Colin’s Room.” Hector kicked down the door, and they slowly went in.
The room was small, and sparsely furnished. It reminded them of Jordan’s room. Behind them, they could hear guns shots, as more Handi’s ascended the stairs. They didn’t have much time and needed to act fast.
With guns drawn, they carefully began to search the apartment. They checked under the bed, and in the drawers of the desk. Then they flipped over the desk, and still found nothing.
“Where the hell is it?” Carlos asked.
“What this!?” said a hoarse angry voice, as the metal security cube was hurled across the room at Carlos’ head. The green-eyed boy fell to the ground, and lost consciousness.
Hector turned, and saw a tall, angry figure burst from the closet of the room. He lifted his gun, but the figure was too fast. He rushed at Hector, and pushed him to the ground, knocking the weapon out of his hand.
“You plasmid pieces of shit!” The figure said, sitting himself atop Hector’s chest. His knees pressed down on Hector’s arms, pinning him to the ground. He had long black hair, and wore a green hoodie. It didn’t take long for Hector to realize who this was; Colin Thomas, head of the Handis. He took a knife from his pocket, and held it Hector’s throat. “You kill my brother, then you try and come into my home, and steal my shit!?”
“Get the fuck off me!” Hector said. The pressure of Colin sitting on his chest made it difficult for Hector to breath. Colin punched Hector, and the young plasmid began to bleed from his nose.
“I’m gonna make you suffer, the way you made Donnie suffer!” Tears of rage and sorrow streamed down Colin’s face. He began to slowly move his blade toward one of Hector’s eyeballs. Hector tried to trash about and escape, but Colin was too strong. He closed his eyes, and hoped it wouldn’t be too bad.
“Hey faggot!” Said a familiar voice. Colin and Hector turned to see Carlos’ dart gun pointed at the Handi gang leader. The green-eyed boy had a large gash on the side of his face, and it bleed down his cheek. But he didn’t seem to care at that moment. “Get off him now!”
Colin leapt up, and ran right for Carlos. With his incredible speed, he was able to the reach him in less than a second. There was a gunshot, and the sound of flesh being cut, and Carlos and Colin fell to the ground.
Hector immediately ran up to his friend. The green-eyed boy lay on the ground, clutching a deep bleeding wound on his chest.
“Are you alright?” Hector asked.
“Better than him.” Carlos gestured to the Handi gang leader. He lay on his back, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. A blue dart sat in the center of his chest. He wasn’t moving.
“Is he dead?” Hector asked.
“No. Worse.” Carlos’ voice sounded strained. He was constantly wincing at the pain he felt in his chest. He pointed to the blue dart. “It’s a paralyzing agent. It stops you from moving, and then it shuts down your lungs. He’s suffocating right now.”
Hector looked back, and could see the gang lord’s face turning blue.
“I kind of wanted to save it for Jordan, but hey. All gang leaders are basically the same right?” he managed a smile through the pain. “Where’s the cube?” Hector got up, and scanned the room. The cube lay in a corner of the room. He ran over, picked it up, and brought it back to Carlos.
“Come on man, get up. We gotta go.” He said. Carlos still lay on the ground shaking his head.
“No man. I don’t think I can.” He removed his hand from the wound on his chest. It was very deep, and very wide. “I don’t think I’ll need that five million dollars anymore.” He managed a final, weak smile. Then his green eyes stopped glowing, and he slowly left the world.
Hector suddenly felt very empty. His eyes became watery. He grabbed his friend’s shoulder, and fruitlessly began to shake it.
A gunshot took him from his grief. He stood up. With the cube under his left arm, and a gun in his right hand, he left the apartment.
Down the hallway, he could see the stairs that they’d climbed. Phil and the other two plasmids lay on the ground, amid a pile of dead Handis. And Hector could hear more coming.
He began to panic. His heart raced. He looked to see if there was another way he could go. He ran back into Colin’s room, and ran to the window. There was an old rusty fire escape there. It appeared to be just barely hanging onto the wall. There was no way this thing would support his weight.
He went back to the hall. There was an elevator. He wasn’t sure how long it would take, but it was better than nothing. He ran up to it, and began to frantically pound the down button. No matter how many times he hit it, it wouldn’t light up. The elevator was broken. He started to feel lightheaded. The sound of oncoming footsteps was getting louder. There was no other way out.
He took a deep breath and put down the cube. He ran over to one of dead bodies on the floor, and took its gun. With a sub machine gun in each hand, he stood in the hall, and waited for the oncoming horde.
The first three or four guys up the stairs were dead before they even saw him. The next two were able to get off a few rounds, hitting him in the leg and stomach before he got them.
The next three moved more slowly, and shot around the corner. They shot him in the right hand. He screamed as he dropped one of his guns. The other Handis ran up the stairs, and plastered him with bullets.
Hector collapsed to the ground. The las
t thing he saw before the darkness took him was an image of Emma holding a baby.
Their baby.
Emma sat in the waiting room of the clinic. It’d been a little over a week since Hector died, and she was only now able to go more than ten minutes without crying.
After the shootout, the police came and cleaned up what was left. It was one of the bloodiest acts of gang violence in the city’s history. Most of the members of both gangs were killed, but a few stray members were still believed to be alive; either because they were lucky enough to survive the shootout, or because they simply hadn’t been there. Both gangs had been crippled beyond repair, and it seemed likely that one or more of the lesser street gangs in the city would soon try to fill the power vacuum. The security cube was still missing as well. It’d presumably been taken by one of the surviving Handis or Plasmids, but no one could be sure.
Emma knew all this. She’d heard it on the TV in the boarding house, and had heard it again in the waiting room at the clinic, on the little TV they’d set up. But she didn’t want to hear about it. She had other things on her mind.
The procedure was quick and relatively painless. Emma had had it done on herself countless times, and was quite used to it by now.
After the fetus had been removed, the doctor stitched her up. She signed a few forms, and left.
She was walking toward the exit, when she passed a door with the word “Nursery” written on it. She knew what it was. It was the room where they kept the artificial wombs that gestated the fetuses. In the middle of the door was a sign which read “Clinic Staff Only.” She looked up and down the hall, and saw that no one was looking. She opened the door and went inside.
The room was lined with large, white, square-shaped machines. There were at least thirty in this one room, and they reminded her of big refrigerators. On the side of each of the machines was a little window. And through these windows, Emma could see the little fetus that each machine cared for.
Children of the Artificial Womb: A Cyberpunk Story Page 3