by Andy Remic
but needing to find her quick. And then I saw her, over by the road block and crouched down with fire glittering distant in her eyes. I moved towards her, saw her crouch and hiss and I must have looked large and fearful and she was real scared by the fire and by my presence and by what had happened.
I found the hard case lying open on its side some feet away, the leather and alloy scorched by fire. I picked it up and moved carefully to Emmy. ‘Here,’ said I, holding out my hand, and she came to me, recognising my smell I think, and I petted her and stroked her and picked her up. She was as beautiful as ever and thankfully unharmed; not like me, with pain in my shoulder and hot ice under my armour. I put Emmy in the case and with reluctance closed the top.
Then, I remembered the gunner on the roof and I glanced up; all was dark up there and shrouded by thick black smoke. The crackle of flames drew my attention. The gunner could either not see me, or had gone for help. I limped to the nearest Battle Truk and stepped up onto the mounting ladder, opened the door with some pain from my broken shoulder and eased the hard case and Emmy inside. I climbed in, slammed shut the heavy door and started up the frightening vehicle, which roared a deep roar of heavy duty military power and black iron might; a leviathan.
Battle Truks were graded in much the same was as I–BUs, and this was a Monster by any SIM's reckoning. With a crunch of gears I revved the Truk backwards, and swinging the assisted steering eased it from a position by the wire mesh fence; there was a tearing of steel as the Truk tore itself free and then I slammed the pedal and the Truk leapt forward with more power than a vehicle of that size had a right to possess. The engine screamed, I knocked gear and the Truk hit 100mph in 4 seconds. The road flashed by and the tyres hummed heavy and I heard a distant bump in the back of the Truk’s load area. Emmy miaowed from the case and I opened the lid to let her peer out as I sped down the middle of the road and all pep vehicles soon moved from my path oh yes, and I even had to smash a few out of the way with sparks screeching and a flash of twisting steel and white faces with open mouths and wide eyes and knuckles clenched on steering–wheels; all fled by in the glowing cut of white hot headlamps and the roar, and the dregs disappeared and I settled back and at this speed I would soon be leaving State and GOV restrictions and bastard back-stabbing LAW...
*
Nothing is ever easy, I realise, and this situation was of course the same. The machine gunner must have gone for help, because soon I could hear the high–powered roar of other Truks on the road behind. My scanners showed four vehicles doing 120mph and I pressed down on the drive pedal and my own Truk leapt forward and I could see them in my mirrors, approaching, all dark and with headlamps bright ice glittering through the gloomy damp streets.
I approached traffic lights which flickered to red and a motorcycle sped out across the junction and my Truk bounced over it and crushed the machine under heavy tread with a great grinding tearing metal scream. The four pursuing Truks followed close, swerving around the remnants of a dead bike and mangled rider, poor unsuspecting pep.
Emmy was on the seat beside me now, oblivious to all this action. She started to wash herself and I patted her head but this brought pain to my face, and my shoulder was a big regret now, especially in my weakened state after taking three reb bullets not so long back.
‘What shall I do?’ said I, words almost lost in engine roar, watching the wipers clear rain from the slick glistening windscreen. Emmy did not reply, because she could not reply but she looked at me and those eyes – those beautiful real eyes – had intelligence.
She understood me, I am sure. And she continued to wash and that was good because I like a clean animal.
I eased my speed back, and the phalanx of heavy Truks behind changed formation; one sped up on my left but one couldn’t come on my right because I hugged the pavement and didn’t allow the dreg bastard room... the Truk pulled alongside and I grinned at him and hammered my steering–wheel left. My Battle Truk swerved, engine screaming and our vehicles smashed together with a flash of white fire. I glanced over, could see the grim face of a Battle E at his own wheel, and he was concentrating on the wall and I increased my speed and at the same time eased in and his Truk locked to my Truk with flashing wheels mere inches from one another and I eased him towards the speeding wall of houses and shops on pep street and his wheels bumped as they mounted the kerb and I could see him panicking and trying to pull free or slow down and still my Truk eased his over, and over, and the engines were roaring and I could smell hot hot oil as we approached a junction – a traffic light suddenly disappeared under his thumping wheels, was churned and mangled and spat out behind. The noise was terrific and loud hot on the ears and my jaw set in a grim line and I eased him into the buildings, grinding him, and a real fukking loud screeching started to whine and smoke in the air and sparks and fire were flashing bright and road signs and a few meandering gormless peps went mashing under his wheels and our speed was still increasing, 130mph and into 140mph, and still we were roaring down pep streets and peps were squashed like fruit and mangled like roadkill around and under driveshafts and this was an insane chase, but I had him locked and this was triumph in such a large ferocious beast as the Truk...
Suddenly the street ended and our vehicles smashed free and he careered off random to the left...
I increased my speed yet more, and pedal touched the floor and the engine was real screaming and moaning loud high pitch and fast and hurting my ears and Emmy’s especially, and I saw the damaged Truk come hurtling back towards me, the Battle E having over–steered and the tyres were buckling and flexing under pressure on wet tarmac but I was too fast, and twitched my Truk aside, and the Battle E’s Truk veered and struck a parked jeep behind me and smashed, and flipped, and skidded along at 140mph on its side with wheels spinning useless and disappearing into my mirrors and on the scanner I saw two of the pursuing Battle Truks hit their comrade and behind a ball of bright grey flames rocketed and whooshed skywards, a great roaring filled the heavens and I sped away, heart thundering in my ears, and slowly eased up on the pedal for my speed was insane on such narrow pep streets.
Calmness began to return.
Behind, out of the wreckage rolled a flaming Truk and I blinked, watching my mirrors, my mech eyes clicking as its engine growled like a live thing, and suddenly it lurched forward and after me, still on fire, and this was not fun any longer and this game was not fun and not to my liking and what I would have given for some real proper narco, some mandrake! Shit and Hell.
There was a crunch as he accelerated like a bastard and rammed me from behind. I felt a tremor strike through the Truk and then something very strange happened: a bullet hole appeared all ragged and fluttering glass cubes in the Truk’s windscreen. A bullet? Where from? From whence fired? I turned, saw a similar hole in the back of the steel cab – and realised with cold dread in my belly that there must be a Battle SIM in the back of my Battle Truk! And his bullet had been intended for me.
There was a boom and a hiss and another hole appeared in the windscreen letting cold drizzle spitting in, and then another hole appeared, and I ducked my head and breathed fast hard and ragged, and I yanked out my stolen SMKK and resting it on my own shoulder emptied six bullets through the cab wall. Another bullet hissed from the back, from my unknown attacker and it nicked my neck as it sped past and embedded in the Truk’s dash. Lights appeared and two red warning lights flickered on. Again, I emptied six shots into the rear of the Truk and then the pursuing Truk hit me with incredible force and speed, making me grunt in pain and this time my tyres buckled and swerved, and I mounted the kerb and a gathering of screeching pep women waving their arms in panic all went under my tyres all soft and squelching and with their babies screaming and squashed.
Nice to see GOV were so careful...
I bumped along, saw the Truk behind lurch towards me again and I hammered hard right on the steering wheel and with a hum my Truk veered back onto the road, smashed a car from its path, mounted t
he opposite kerb and the following Truk veered also and was behind me and another bullet hissed in the windscreen and it was all a madness – this was all a chaos! – and I snapped shut the flaps in Emmy’s case and placed the case down on the floor where my k legs locked it in a powerful embrace; then, at 140mph with the Truk right behind I hit the assisted breaks as hard as my k legs would allow and there came a terrific hiss and whine and crunch, my Truk rocked in violence, and suddenly metal was screaming and screaming and tyres hissing rubber tread on dark roads and the two Truks, locked like fukking metal, merged and skidded and swerved down the street and gently bumped onto the kerb.
I was out of the cab, my SMKK cold and ready and my frown a big one of annoyance. I triggered, bullets smashed through the windscreen of the rear Truk and killing the annoying Battle E all dead and bloody with metal in his face and eyes; the cab was like a tin of sushi.
All was suddenly silent and cool, and a breeze wafted down the street and the cool rain was soothing on my skin. I moved to the rear of my own Truk, careful now, and through mangled metal I managed to open the twisted slick door. There was a SIM in there, but he was a mess of broken limbs and hunched at the top of the Truk, a pile on top of himself. I climbed in, dragged him whimpering along the corrugated floor of the Truk and dumped him on the road. His fingers and arms and legs were broken, and so he could not follow me. This was good. I left him there weeping blood.
I returned to the Truk glad that all this madness was over now and I could have some sanity back. I started the engine, crunched gears and eased the vehicle from the buckled mess of the pursuing Truk. I checked on Emmy and she was just OK and fine, and I set out at a steady 90mph and some strange groaning creaking sounds came from the mangled rear of the Truk, and several tyres were ripped open, but it still moved just fast and fine and I cruised the dark empty streets and away, away from rain–filled State and to freedom beyond.
*
I cruised for an hour, at a reasonable low speed and with tyres humming damp. Soon red lights blinked at me from the Truk’s dash but I am no expert mechanic and they meant nothing to me and I frowned. Dreg. Something was damaged and quite serious I would say.
Then I saw a sudden dazzle of lights.
Two Truks flanked by eight Battle Jeeps cut out from the roads ahead and I hit the brake pedal hard and lurched at them with my teeth tight and face grim. They swerved at the last minute because playing chicken to me meant playing it to the death, and I heard them screech around behind and take up the chase; but my Truk would not accelerate and I was locked in at 90mph and they were gaining on me fast and something had to be done. To my right was the heavy mesh and barbed electro wire guarding pep city from the dregs and wasteland side.
Of course.
The Dregs...
I mounted the kerb and smashed through the electro wire and all was a sudden blue blue smashing sparking brightness. And then I was through the wire which glowed in my mirrors and darkness descended, and I killed lights and sped on, Truk bumping and pounding, the Truk’s suspension whining and rattling over the rubble of wasteland, and all was now a complete darkness...
The pursuing vehicles slowed, then filed through the opening I had created. Two Jeeps stayed to guard the entrance from rebs and this was good for me because it meant less pursuit. But the other vehicles came on and spread out in a phalanx of bright yellow lights and they had speed that I did not possess. I bumped over something hard and large, which clanked off the Truk’s belly... there came a distant grinding sound and I could smell hot hot oil and I knew this was not good, and things were looking progressively bad for me.
I steered my Truk towards the dregs and for a while the pursuing Truks and Battle Jeeps lost me, but soon picked me up on their scanners, just as I saw a red blip on my own scanner and fukk me! It was a HTank.
I watched with dry mouth and grim scowl as the HTank changed course, and as I watched on my scanner it accelerated, heading to intercept me.
What could I do?
I proceeded through dark rain, wondering what to do because a HTank had ferocious weapons and could blast me into shrapnel. I suddenly steered towards it, and urged my Truk on faster and faster as much as it would allow. But the grinding from underneath had become deep and heavy, and I think the four driveshafts had been damaged because I started to lose speed even more, so I changed direction once more and could see the dregs proper looming close with their mountainous peaks of deserted black building and night–outline of waste.
The enemy were closing in on me and the HTank was already too close for my liking, and I realised that the enemy were not enemy, not real enemy, but by their actions they had condemned themselves in my eyes and that was not good. They had turned on me. It was most unsporting.
I slowed my speed more, this time on purpose and grasping the hard case containing Emmy and wedging the auto–drive in place, I opened the door and leapt into the darkness and beyond and I crouched on the ground, waiting, cold and unmoving and the Truks and Battle Jeeps sped past me. I watched the distance, panting, and heard the distant concussive thumps of the HTank’s guns and my Truk was flung skywards in a flash of bright grey flames that glittered for a while, then faded and were gone.
They would check the wreckage, I knew, and then come looking for me. I did not have long and so clasping the hard case to my chest I set my k legs to kdrive and advanced through the dark rubble of wasteland. It was very cold and the light rain had passed beyond joy and into discomfort. I could feel heavy coldness through my armour. Emmy miaowed from the case but I could not let her out, not here because it was such a desolate and dangerous place...
I stopped. Orientated.
I could smell chemicals now. The wastelands were notorious dumps for pep pollutants and waste chemicals and PCB dreg that stained and ate the ground and made this hole a very unsafe tox–fukked place.
I moved on, listening for pursuit from the direction of the HTank.
‘Got any spare coin, Brother?’ said a voice from the darkness.
My eyes clicked. A light flickered on, to illuminate a gang – probably ex–rebs or dreg scum unable to make their money by stealing pep kit. I counted and could only see three and their light was bright and my SMKK bullet smashed the light and I hit the ground hard as bullets screamed overhead and the stupid scum shot several of their own foolish dumb gang.
‘Stop! Stop!’ screamed the voice that had first addressed me. ‘He’s here somewhere, the bastard – get me another light, you fukking loons.’
There were several clicks, and orientating on his position I sent a bullet after him and rolled away. He grunted, rasping, fell to the ground, and then I was up and running with my shoulder burning hot needle fire in my mind and feeling real sick and out of breath and full of nausea as bullets screamed behind me through the rain.
I was clear, and my boots hit old concrete and I was in the dregs. But the unfortunate incident in wasteland would have no–doubt given away my location. The Battle Es would be moving in soon. That was not good.
I started to run, despite my pain and nausea and the clicking of my broken shoulder.
The dregs were dark and deserted and filled with filth. I crouched in a doorway as a Justice D patrol cruised the street and disappeared around a corner on a Leviticus 20. When I moved my broken shoulder it clicked again, harshly, bone grinding bone. I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up and pushed on.
I couldn’t stop now.
They’d slaughter me. Me, and Emmy.
I headed west dregside and it was not before long that I could hear distant sounds – boots, shouting voices. And, worst of all: mech dogs.
The hunt was on, and I was the prey.
As I ran I could feel narco dregs eating my soul. Lights flickered and flashed in my mind. I could... I could remember. Another time, back during Entropy... it had been the same and I groaned out loud and oh HELL it had been the same...
Mission D and I were hunted, by CIVs turned reb and we were both wound
ed, losing blood, almost out of ammo; and I could remember words mashed and merged together through my shoulder pain and bullet pain –
once i might have cried but these mech eyes cannot produce tears – i fear the world is mad – once i would have grieved – once i would have felt sorrow but these are harsh times mission and death is a harsh reality –
I crouched down, there in the mud and mashed concrete shit, and blinked. The memories faded hard fast and grey. This was reality. This was solid. This was life – and I had to survive.
I had to keep Emmy alive.
And I had to show GOV scum dreg that I was not bound by their petty rules, their narrow confining borders, and they could not pervert my soul as they had perverted Snow’s with promise of wealth and power and life and sex and drugs.
Fukk the GOV and their petty bureaucracy.
They could never change my will. Nor my soul.
I sighed. My shoulder clicked and the pain was bright.
What to do?
What to do?
Mech dogs clattered in the distance, their noise an echoing parody of life. Their scanners were good, effective, powerful. They would find me.
I sprinted on, leaping old tyres and blocks of dreg debris; I reached an old sewage canal which glinted in through my mech eyes. I paused, panting, sweat heavy under my exo–s. Emmy miaowed from the case but I quietened her and suddenly sat down, my k legs hissing, and I dangled them over the old canal which stank of pep filth and old, rotting shit and dreg. I checked my SMKK mag and looked back into the darkness; flashlights glittered like bright grey eyes which suddenly flickered, flashed yellow, black, then back to yellow. My mouth was suddenly dry. Had I seen colour? Had I seen real colour? Or was it just a fukking narco mandrake flashback?
The mech dogs were getting louder, and cursing I heaved myself to my feet and ran alongside the sewage canal; I followed it outwards, for all sewage from State was pumped slowly down these great canals and out dregside. The health of rebs wasteland was not GOV priority.