Darkside Dreams - The Complete First Series

by A. King Bradley

  Finally, someone emerged. A greenish, camouflaged figure that stumbled along the path with the weight of the equipment on its shoulders. From the naked face, the swaying hips, and the slenderness of the toned and tattooed arms, Seeva guessed that it was a woman. She went striding past, directly under where two of her quarry clung to their trees. Seeva heard a string of curses and self-admonishments issuing from the woman's mouth. Apparently, the shot had been a miss.

  The huntress was feeling doubt. Angry with herself and unlikely to be ready for a fight. Her rifle was slung low behind her, bouncing off the back of her legs with its muzzle toward the ground.

  Seeva had a sudden thought, a flash of inspiration. But it seemed Marina was ahead of her.

  Marina shoved off the tree, launching herself far beyond the choking branches and into thin air. Her knees came up toward her chest, her arms wind-milled in the air to stabilize her descent, and her eyes were trained on the huntress with the fierce intelligence of an owl dive-bombing a field mouse.

  Seeva began to climb down, letting herself slide with gravity down the narrow slot between two trees. The bark ground against her back and scraped a layer of skin off her hands. Five feet from the ground, she kicked off and hit the trail running.

  The huntress had enough time to turn and reach for her rifle as Seeva came tumbling down. Marina crashed knees first into her shoulders on either side of her head. They went down in a flailing heap. There were cries of pain from both women. From the huntress, as she twisted around and rolled her ankle. From Marina, as she crashed down hard against her right hip and shoulder.

  Shots went off, blasting wild through the jungle. The air filled with green and brown confetti— shredded vegetation as a hundred rounds tore through the air. The gun came up and around, swinging dangerously close. Seeva ducked, hearing the whine of bullets even over the fresh ringing in her ears.

  Marina was screaming, wailing Alifred’s name, wincing and straining away from the swinging rifle. It couldn't have many more bullets left. But it was getting much too close for comfort.

  Seeva bolted forward with in human speed, swung one leg back and then forward, delivering a mighty kick to the back of the huntress' head. She felt a crack, flesh and spine giving way. The nuchal ligament on the back of the neck broke with a dull thwock, a vibration felt in Seeva's toes. The huntress slumped down, face first against the path. Dead. But the gun went on shooting. Seeva stamped a foot down on it and skidded it forward, pulling it out of the dead woman's grip.

  The noise echoed away. In this heavy humidity, the sound waves might not make it too far past the airfield. But that was enough. Every living set of ears on the ranch would have heard it. The synths would stay away, but the hunters would come swarming.

  How many hunters? Seeva thought back, trying to remember if Bowen had let the number slip. She didn't think he had. There might be three, or there might be thirty. More likely it was four to six, she decided. Enough for each of them to get at least one kill apiece, theoretically. Enough to give them an absolute and unequivocal advantage, given their numbers and heavy artillery.

  "Get up," Seeva said, swatting a hand against Marina's motionless back. "Help me move her."

  Marina twisted around so that her face pointed at the sky. "Am I dead?"

  "Not yet. But she is. We have to hide her body. If the other hunters see it, they'll go on red alert. We'll lose any advantage we had. Come on, up!"

  Marina got up, dusting herself off. Together, they carried the body of the huntress off the path and shoved it into the deep bowers of the jungle.

  "There's no blood, at least," Seeva said, trying to smile.

  "But all those shots," Marina said. "When they get here and find no one, not even a synth's corpse, they'll know something weird happened."

  "Not much we can do about that. Unless you want to lay in the path playing possum."

  Seeva stood up, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and tightening the strap so it stayed high and tight against her hip. She checked the reservoir, dialed the firing setting down to single shot.

  "How many shots left?" Marina asked.

  "You don't want to know," Seeva replied. "Hopefully we can bag another one and take their gun, too. We should go now. Quietly."

  They crept forward, stepping only on roots. Things that would not move, or crinkle underfoot. Seeva turned sideways, shoving herself through a cleft between trees. As silent as she tried to be, a bit of noise was inevitable. So she focused on speed and efficiency of movement.

  Marina was less patient and reached the path first. A breeze drifted in from the open, carrying scents of rifle fire and the tang of freshly eviscerated leaves. And the sweetness of pulped tree flesh, the oozing wounds where bullets had passed. Heady aromas to keep Seeva's mind from fleeing into a waking fever dream.

  Marina helped pull her through. Seeva's pants caught on a small branch and broke it with a loud, ringing snap. The two women stumbled across the path as Seeva dislodged suddenly. They shared a nervous chuckle, quickly righting themselves.

  "Which way?" Marina asked.

  "It doesn't matter," Seeva said. "There's no way of knowing where the other hunters are..."

  CHAPTER 12

  ◆◆◆

  The two girls fell to the side. They laughed, a strange sound to hear from two people in mortal danger. But Bowen wasn't surprised. It was crazy, how often you heard these doomed people laugh. In the face of death, the synth mind broke in just the same way as the organic one. At a certain point, everything became funny. Even the sight of your own blood, running down your arm.

  They turned in his direction, and came jogging along, casting looks over their shoulders as if someone might appear behind them. Then they looked ahead, staring down the length of the path. They weren't paying attention to the jungle. And they were getting close, moving fast... Perfect.

  Bowen's narrow eyes came open all the way. If the sun had been lower, the light less bright, they would have seen the whites of his eyes standing out against the dark of the jungle.

  The one woman, Seeva Cavelin, had a rifle. Bowen didn't know who the rifle had belonged to originally, but he was willing to bet that owner was dead. Bowen wasn't surprised by that, either. Cavelin was deceptively tough. Smart. She saw glimmers of the truth, which other synths denied themselves and this wasn't the first time one of the hunters had ended up dead. Far from it.

  But it always went the same. The synths let their heads get too big once they took off their mental shackles. They got arrogant. They grew so certain of themselves that they began to make stupid mistakes. And they ended up dead. Not a single one had ever made it off this ranch alive.

  Bowen wasn't worried about a precedent being set here. They were so clueless, these two girls. They were within five feet of him now, and they hadn't a clue that they were both seconds away from ending up mounted on his trophy wall.

  He came out of the jungle a moment later, sliding onto the path.

  The looks on their faces! The greatest delight he had ever known, a treat more delicious than fresh mango, roasted ocean fish, dark rum in the hollow of a coconut.

  No matter what happened, no matter how this gambit went, he would live or die as the happiest man in the universe.

  CHAPTER 13

  ◆◆◆

  A gunshot. A shock up Seeva's spine, a painful fear powerful enough to convince her the bullet had passed through her body, or her head. It was Marina who fell though, slumping lifelessly onto her back.

  The living jungle grinned nastily over the barrel of his handgun. Seeva knew that face, full of hollow charisma. She knew the body, lithe and rippling with muscle. It was Bowen Creedy.

  At first, Seeva almost lunged forward to tackle him. Then she remembered the gun and raised it quickly, letting off her only remaining shot. The rifle kicked like a horse in her hands, recoiling so sharply she couldn't tell where the projectile had gone. But Bowen Creedy cried in pain, lurching backward, slamming onto his back, skidding li
mply along the path. He lay there motionlessly, his hand curled loosely around the handle of the pistol.

  Seeva fell to her knees. She dragged Marina over, pulling the other girl's head into her lap. What was left of her head, anyway. Half of it was gone, leaving a jagged edge of metal skull and a fizzing, spitting cross section of cyber brain.

  And the shot would bring others. Especially since there had been two shots, each from a different gun. If these hunters were so skilled, they would certainly pick up on that difference and decide that something interesting was happening in these parts.

  No time for being sad. Anger was all she could allow herself. Controlled fury.

  She rose to a half-crouch and scrambled over to Bowen Creedy. She reached for his pistol, to pull it out of his grip, but the dead hand clung on stubbornly. She kept pulling, until his arm was straight and he appeared to be aiming at the sky. And then there was suddenly tension in the arm. Flexion of the muscles. A tightening in the fingers. Bowen's arm began to pull back against her, with just enough force to bring the struggle to a stalemate.

  His eyes were open, staring at her.

  "Hello, Seeva," he said, without any strain in his voice. The bastard was strong.

  "You missed."

  "I can see that," she said. "Let me have the gun, and I'll redeem myself."

  "Actually, even if you took it, doll, it won’t do ya any good,” Creedy teased. “It’s fingerprint activated. Won't work with any mitts, except my own."

  "There are other ways to kill you," Seeva said darkly.

  From further up the path, they heard the echo of approaching feet, two voices shouting at one another.

  "Uh oh! Three on one ain’t good odds, doll," Bowen smirked. “Least they aren’t in a fight, if you know what I mean.”

  Seeva looked up the path. It curved dramatically, so she couldn't see who was approaching, but they were very close. And she had no more bullets. Snarling in frustration, she launched a vicious right hand at Creedy, intent on reducing his head to pulp. Creedy had no choice but to release his gun and roll away to avoid having his skull obliterated by Seeva’s earth shattering attack.

  For a second she considered going after him but instead took off running in the other direction when the approaching footsteps reminded her of the other hunters.

  As she ran, something whizzed past her ear. Not a bullet; she heard no shot. It was a throwing knife. She found it on the ground fifteen feet along. One of Bowen's probably.

  The shots came a moment later. A flurry of them, a storm that never seemed to end. But none of the bullets came close. She didn't know what the hunters were aiming at now, but it wasn't her.

  CHAPTER 14

  ◆◆◆

  A little while ago, something strange had happened. Something that made Bowen Creedy's assistant very nervous.

  His boss always told him not to use his personal data slate, not when he was at the ranch, but he was expecting an important message. And what was the harm, really? It was just one of those dumb rules that bosses imposed to make sure their employees wouldn't slack off.

  Just after he turned his data slate on, as he was scrolling through his mail, the screen went black suddenly. Green letters appeared, words and sentences popping into view.

  Go into the hall.

  The assistant smiled to himself, feeling a thrill. What was this, some sort of game? He stood and did what the words said, half expecting to find a gift waiting for him.

  Walk down the hall.

  He walked.

  Keep going.

  He walked some more.

  Good. Stop there.

  The assistant looked around and saw that he was alone. "Who are you?"

  A dead man. My backup persona won't be able to exist long here. It'll be rooted out. But you've gotten me far enough that I can leapfrog into the city and look for help. Thank you.

  The assistant reached for the data slate's power button. Too late. The mail screen came back. The ghost of Alifred was gone, already departed on its journey.

  CHAPTER 15

  ◆◆◆

  Bowen rolled onto his stomach, laughing with excitement. Behind him, Seeva Cavelin was sprinting to safety, quickly disappearing from sight. Ahead, a new tapestry was unfolding.

  The two hunters, big men with huge guns, were lumbering along. There was worry in their eyes as they saw Bowen on the ground, sans weapon.

  Three shapes came flying down from the trees. Naked synths, caked in mud. An ambush. They had used the death of Marina, and Seeva's struggle, to their advantage. They could have come down to help, but they decided to wait. Wait for the bait to pull in some big fish.

  A chaotic dance ensued. Flailing limbs, flying fists, arcing kicks. Rifles went off, spraying full auto. One of the synths was absolutely hammered, flying across the path under a barrage of projectiles, shredded further in midair so that all that was left of her was a bunch of flesh-colored streamers dangling wetly from the vines.

  The other two synths lived on. For a moment. A second one went down, head popping like a watermelon. The last synth, a woman named Glisha Neal, finally won the wrestling match she'd been engaged in. This tiny woman, seemingly weighing no more than a hundred and twenty pounds, overpowered a man more than twice her size. She pulled the gun away from him, held the trigger down, and turned in a circle.

  The two hunters died.

  That was all three of his hunters down. Bowen was alone.

  By now he was in the trees, standing still as a statue. Waiting. He knew Glisha had seen him. He knew that she knew that he had no gun and she would come for him without much fear.

  So she did, a minute later. Striding down the path, leaning back and using the counterweight of the heavy rifle to keep herself on her feet. She kept turning. Left, right, left, right. Watching everything.

  The body of Marina was on the path. Blocking the left side. Glisha could either step over it, or walk around it. She chose the latter option, creeping to the right and coming within a foot of where Bowen waited.

  He reached out, hands as silent and quick as a cobra strike, and plunged his knife up under her throat. A mild discharge of electricity tickled his arm and a fountain of purple synth fluid spewed from Glisha’s neck.

  An eerie smile spread across Bowen’s face as Glisha Neal fell to the ground before him.

  CHAPTER 16

  ◆◆◆

  For a little while, Seeva didn't stop running. Not even after she collapsed once and bashed her knee. She was searching desperately, barely containing her screams. The longer she spent alone, the deeper the cracks in her psyche became. Cut off from the data sphere. Cut off from everything, stranded in this alien place. She hunted for companionship, knowing full well that the next person she ran into might be her killer.

  She ran and ran, until she smacked into a tree trunk at a dead end and fell onto her backside. She looked around, startled out of her insanity for the moment, and realized she had come right back to the beginning. The electrified gate was there, still sealed shut. The guards were gone. She saw no one.

  At least when she died, it would be easy for them to carry her remains out. What would they do with her then? Burn her? Cast her out to sea? Grind her up and use her amalgam to create more fake plants?

  It was a cruel miracle that she hadn't yet been killed. It would happen any second now. As her mind lingered on the deaths of Alifred and Marina, she actually wanted it to happen. Wanted one of the hunters to find her and put her out of her misery too. In the end she felt ashamed. Ashamed that she ever thought she could change this cruel world through words alone.

  She stared at the gate, and slowly began to nod to herself.

  Should she let it electrocute her? No. Too painful. Too cruel to the body she had called home for all these years.

  Instead, she lifted the pistol and pressed the muzzle against her temple. After a brief moment of reflection, remembrance of her life and its memories, she pulled the trigger. It slid back by a tiny increment. Wi
th a dull click, it stopped moving before it went all the way back.

  Fingerprint activated. Of course.

  She dropped the gun into her lap, defeated. But something jumped out at her. A little switch that could be toggled between two notches. The safety. It was currently set to ON. She must have jostled it as she ran. Funny, she thought. If the gun wasn't fingerprint protected, she would have just killed herself. It seemed like a strange thought now. Very surreal and silly.

  She stared at the safety.

  Maybe... Just maybe...

  "How interesting," a voice boomed out. Bowen Creedy. She turned, and saw his lethally slim form striding cockily up the path.

  "Somehow," he continued, "I knew I'd find you here."

  "I came here by accident," said Seeva, scanning his body and his hands. He was all but naked. He had a knife in one hand, and nothing in the other.

  "No gun?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I'm a better sport than that. We're the last ones alive in here, hun, did you know that? Just you and me. Wouldn’t be much fun for me if I just blasted you down before you even knew I was there."

  He reached behind his back with his empty hand and pulled out a second knife.

  "What do ya say we settle this the old-fashioned way?" he asked.

  He tossed the knife toward her, quite carelessly. She watched it come, tracked it in the air. Her sanity was damaged, but the analytical portions of her brain had ticked up into new levels of sharpness. New levels of genius and calculation. She reached out, plucked the twirling knife out of the air, tossed it up and caught it again for good measure.