Sure, Nolan had been on their side, but he hadn’t come out of the war squeaky clean. He was still an assassin, the person who murdered President Godfrey. He then kidnapped Hazel to try and force her to help the Outlander cause. It seemed to Des that Nolan was the sort of person who would do whatever it took to push his agenda forward, good or bad. There was no deciphering the motivations of people either. For all Des knew, Nolan and his leader, Lester Vaughn, were power hungry as well, saw the needs of the Outlanders, and exploited it to gain control.
This was all conjecture, Des knew, but the thoughts were still there. And someone was responsible for the bomb that wiped out his people three days ago.
Des had gotten lucky. Not only in the explosion itself, but in his mode of transportation afterward. The morning of the explosion, Bernard and Des had driven to the other side of the hills in search of the entrance, having had to hike a few miles to find it. After the explosion, Des found the vehicle in working condition, though it was overheated; he had to leave quickly. There had been enough fuel to travel the few hundred miles toward Mainland. And to keep from detection, he abandoned the vehicle about ten miles out and walked the rest of the way. He now found himself staring at the city with anger and disdain.
There was a small part of him that doubted the explosion came from here, but he knew it wasn’t logical to think that way. That doubt came from a hope within him. His hope was that Mainland had somehow found peace and that the Outlanders and Mainlanders would be able to live together in harmony. But also, the doubt came from reasoning. The question came to mind: why? Why would have the Mainlanders bombed an innocent village? Why were they setting off the bomb at all? Were the villagers the target? Was it just random?
Whatever the case, Des was going to solve the mystery. There was a reason behind it. He simply had to find the right people and ask the right questions.
Under the cover of darkness, Des set out toward the city. He had no plan for getting in, but he knew that in the past, guards didn’t patrol every inch of the wall. It was tall enough to make for a difficult climb, but not so tall that it would damage him too badly if he fell. Somewhere along the battered walls there would be a good place to climb.
It didn’t look as though a new wall had been built; it was only patched. And Outlander wars of the past had provided more than enough scars, so that scaling it shouldn’t prove too difficult for Des. The trick was doing it undetected by guards.
The temperature gauges in Des’ system revealed that the night was cool. The wind pushed against him at twenty miles an hour. Particles of sand sprinkled his face, chest, and legs as he walked. Whatever footprints he left behind would be gone within minutes.
With his night vision, he measured the walls to be ten meters high. When he reached the wall, he was confident there was no one at the top. He listened for footsteps, someone talking or breathing heavily. There was nothing. He reached a hand up to the first chunk of missing wall and then the next. About midway, he looked down and felt that old feeling of fright even though the drop wouldn’t be fatal. His fear of heights had never dissipated even though he had overcome that fear in the past. It still loomed in his mind any time he got too close to a ledge or cliffside. The fear no longer froze him into place, but it was ever present, regardless.
His hands reached the top of the wall and he pulled himself over the ledge, his feet hitting the wall floor. He crouched low and scanned the area for any movement. His heat sensors didn’t pick up anything. This was good.
He remained crouched as he ran across the top of the wall as quickly as he could, looking for a good place to scale down into the city. When he finally found a good spot, he reached down to hang off the ledge. He wanted to get a meter or two down before dropping to the ground just in case the collapse in the cave had jarred something loose in his lower half. He was nearly halfway down the wall and was about to drop when his sound receptors picked up a light humming noise behind him. He turned his head to look, but he couldn’t see anything, though the humming got louder and louder. He looked two or three more times until…he spotted it. Whatever it was it came for him at a blinding speed. The object stopped just short of the wall. Des scanned it with his eyes. It was electronic and round. It hovered in the air by use of propellers. It too seemed to be scanning Des. It was a robot. A drone.
“You there,” the drone called out. “What are you doing?”
Des didn’t say anything. He simply stared at the drone.
“Your status is unclassifiable. You are an intruder. I’m alerting backup.”
“No,” Des whispered just before dropping to the ground.
“Stop!” the drone yelled, but Des was already sprinting away.
The streets were far away, and this part of the Mainland was just dead space between the city and the wall. But the drone had detected Des from far away. That was why there wasn’t a guard on the wall.
Des suddenly felt a resounding thud against his back, followed by the loud boom of a gun. The drone was shooting at him! Over and over the bullets pelted him or whizzed past his head. Each bullet that hit him ricocheted harmlessly to the side. Bullets, he wasn’t worried about. It was the backup he was worried about.
His receptors picked up more buzzing like a giant swarm of bees, only these drones carried a much more deadly sting. Soon they surrounded him, each firing one bullet after another, each one yelling for Des to surrender.
Des kept sprinting until he reached one of the first streets in Mainland. He cut a corner and then a second, but the drones simply flew over the buildings to get a better vantage point. He knew the only way to get out of this was to lose the drones. He couldn’t just run to Hazel’s house and expect everything to be okay. To these drones, he was an intruder and they would stop at nothing until he was caught or dead.
Des turned another sharp corner and stopped in his tracks when he saw two figures running toward him. His sensors let him know that these weren’t men. They were robots too. He didn’t have time to study them. He turned back the way he had come only to find more robots charging. With drones above and foot soldiers in every direction, Des found himself surrounded. He looked to his left and saw a robot lift a large rifle in his direction. With a squeeze of a trigger, Des was on the ground.
He found himself wrapped in metal netting. He began tearing at it with his fingers, pulling it apart like he might a spider web. But another was shot at him and another. And soon, Des was overpowered. Robots were on top of him, holding him down, securing the nets. Never in a million years did Des think he would have been caught, yet here he was.
He stopped struggling, knowing there was no getting out of this by force. He could barely see through the netting that held him in place. One of the robots stood just above him.
“Who or what are you?” the robot asked.
Des didn’t say anything. He felt too stunned. Too shocked.
The robots didn’t wait too long for an answer. The one above Des look at the others and shook his head. “Get him out of here.”
5
The man had gained a reputation over the last five years. Those who knew about him sometimes referred to him as the shadow man, though he was sure it was more of a joke. Those in the upper echelons of the government (both sides) knew he existed, though he tried to live up to his nickname as the shadow man. He always sat in on the meetings but was rarely officially present. In fact, he was rarely in the room. He watched the meeting of the presidents and their staff from a screen in a closet-like space just down the hall and that was fine by him.
He was President Vaughn’s right-hand man, yet he was President Morris’ worst nightmare. Of course, the shadow man wasn’t entirely sure why President Morris was afraid of him. It was he who launched Morris into the office of President in the first place. Six years ago, in fact.
Nolan Ragsdale looked down at his dirty fingernails and pulled out a knife. Every now and again he would look up at the screen and take in what the leaders were saying. But most of the
time he remained lost in his own thoughts. He scraped at the dirt and dead skin cells with the pointy end of the knife and occasionally brushed his fingers along the side of his pants. This meeting wasn’t particularly important. Most of the conversation was about how the public received the declaration of peace by use of the atomic weapon.
“I think it was overall positive,” one of the cabinet members said.
“I don’t know,” another countered. “I think the imagery might have scared people.”
Personally, Nolan didn’t care what anyone thought about the blast. He was just glad they got rid of the thing. Now there was no chance of it ever being used against anyone. Public opinion was the last thing on Nolan’s mind.
He watched the two presidents as they sat across from each other in the conference room. Each party had their own cabinet members seated on one side as if they weren’t all part of the same team. They worked in different parts of the building, dealt with different issues. It was no secret that Morris hated Vaughn with everything in him. But in order to survive politically, it was important to bring in a representative of the new Mainlanders. Not that it had done a lot of good.
Nolan never expected things to be like this. He always thought that if the Outlanders made it to Mainland that they would be integrated within months, not years. And here they were as separated as ever. The only difference now was that they weren’t killing each other. Yet.
Nolan’s ability to stay on at all was due in large part to his loyalty to Lester. Nolan had served him well and had been a key player in bringing the groups together. Without Nolan, Lester may have never been able to pull this off. Nolan knew this fact and it gave him some satisfaction. But he knew that no matter how important he may have been before or how important he was now, the actions Nolan had committed in the past followed him. Morris and his team would have nothing to do with him.
He had to stay out of the public eye because the image of Nolan’s face had been plastered on every wall for the better part of a year in Mainland. After assassinating President Godfrey, he’d become the most wanted man in the city. But after the big battle between the Outlanders and Mainlanders, people started to forget about him. Some might have even forgiven his deed considering they now knew the truth of Godfrey’s corruption. Nolan had been the one to show them.
The first discussion of this between Nolan and Lester, just days after the battle was short and to the point:
Lester: You know I can’t have you on my cabinet.
Nolan: I get it.
Lester: But I need you to help me.
Nolan: I saw this coming. I’ve prepared for it.
Lester: It doesn’t mean you can’t be seen by anyone. You just can’t be a prominent figure. You can’t give any official statements.
Nolan: I know. I get it. I’m here to serve the Outlanders in any way possible. I took this path knowing I might be killed for it. Staying in the shadows is a lot better than being dead.
The shadow man.
Nolan actually liked his new role within the government. He was part advisor, part gofer, part enforcer. He knew everything that went on, perhaps even more than either president. He didn’t have to wear a mask. He didn’t have to go through secret passageways. He simply had to keep to himself unless he was needed or unless he thought he would be needed.
Which was daily.
Nolan watched the screen quietly as the conversation turned from public opinion about the bomb to the old tradition of squabbling about zoning rights. Vaughn would shout his opinion that the Outlanders had as much right to move into the other zones as any Mainlander—that the segregation had gone too far.
“Must I remind you day-after-day that this process takes time?” Morris said, rolling his eyes.
“It’s been half a decade,” Vaughn snapped.
“What do you think the bomb was about?” Morris came back. “It’s the start of something. That was a move toward unification.”
“People don’t want a bomb to explode, they want to move about freely.”
“And they will,” Morris said with a sigh. “I can’t make legislation pass more quickly. I can say that it would go much more smoothly if you could keep your Outlanders in order.”
This was no slip up. Morris made it a habit to refer to the new Mainlanders as your Outlanders whenever he spoke to Vaughn, though not in public. It had become somewhat of a derogatory term, though Nolan wore the name proudly. The more he stayed in Mainland, the more he longed to be somewhere else.
“There is unrest because of the unfair treatment,” Vaughn said.
Morris shrugged. “My hands are tied. It’s a slow process.”
The argument would continue like this for another thirty minutes or so. Nolan often drowned out the noise with his own thoughts. But this time a light tapping at the door stirred him, and he stood quickly. He reached for the door and cracked it open only to be met by a robot guard. Nolan had to keep himself from snarling.
“Mr. Ragsdale,” the robot said.
“What is it?” He didn’t open the door any wider to welcome the robot in. The guards knew not to bother him like this. Not unless it was important.
“I have a message for you.”
“Don’t you have a comm link?” Nolan said.
“It’s of a sensitive nature.”
“What is it then?”
“Only that you’re needed at the jail in the Southern Zone.”
“What?”
“The Southern Zone. You are needed at the jail.”
“Yeah, shut up, I heard you. It doesn’t make any sense. Did they say why?”
“As I said, it’s sensitive and the jailer didn’t want to say anything over comm.”
Nolan sighed and nodded. “Got it.”
He shut the door on the robot and turned back to his chair. He reached for his coat that was folded over the side and swung it around his back to put his arms through. His eyes traveled to the screen.
“I just don’t see why we can’t ease the patrols through the streets,” Vaughn said.
Nolan shook his head and breathed heavily through his nose. He had to give Vaughn credit. The man never quit.
He left the room to find the robot still standing outside the door. This time Nolan did snarl, but he said nothing and walked briskly down the hallway. It wasn’t unusual for Nolan to get a secretive call like this. It happened all the time. What was unusual was where the call came from—the Southern Zone jail. If anything, it intrigued and excited Nolan to have something new come his way. He hadn’t been in the Southern Zone in a long time.
6
The computer in front of Hazel was older than she was, kept alive by her consistent tinkering and infrequent upgrades whenever she came across them. It was a giant leap back compared to the computers she had gotten used to when she worked with the Mainland government, but it did what she needed. It maintained a connection to the limited citizen network that allowed people to communicate and download information. The network was pretty useless and oftentimes slow.
For the last few days she had used the network over and over to try and contact her dad’s doctor, but he was never available to speak no matter how much Hazel pleaded. She had even gone to his office, such as it was, but she was only turned away by robot guards that stood outside. Like the druggist, doctors were protected by the robot police because, well, that was how bad things had gotten. She wanted to go back to the druggist and try again, but she knew she would only be turned away; and she risked being told she wouldn’t be allowed back, or worse, they might arrest her.
She had done everything in her power to strengthen her father enough to go with her to the druggist, but he was still too weak. She feared that taking him out in public would be too much of a risk to what health he had left.
She tapped her fingers on the desk in front of her, staring at the blank screen. When her father started coughing in the back bedroom, she almost got up to tend to him, but he soon quit and quickly started snoring again.
>
At least he’s resting well, she thought.
She then heard the turning of small gears as a short, square-headed robot rolled toward her. Gizmo was an aging piece of machinery as well and found no respite from Hazel’s tinkering. In the last few years, she’d fitted him with a radio antenna and a brand new set of eyes. The antenna, because it let her father keep up with the news instead of having to sit in front of a screen. The new cameras were installed because Gizmo kept knocking stuff over when he tried to pick things up.
“I’m so sick of his coughing!” Gizmo almost yelled.
“He can’t help it,” Hazel said.
“Why do you have to stick up for him?”
Hazel shook her head. “Shut up, Gizmo. Go sit next to his bed and make sure he doesn’t need anything.”
“Yeah, right,” Gizmo snapped as he rolled away. “The man constantly needs something. Get me a glass of water! Change the station. Get me a tissue! Pick up this mess!”
Hazel watched until the little robot was out of sight. She had been meaning to change his programming. Her father had gotten so annoyed with Gizmo’s constant giddiness that he asked Hazel to tone him down a bit. The result was a crotchety, constantly complaining robot whose angry temper could not be quelled. Her dad thought it was hilarious, but like his constant happiness, the bad mood was starting to get to her.
She looked back at the screen and anxiousness crept into her like a bug. She didn’t want to do what she was about to do, yet she needed to. It reminded her of the past. It helped her keep a certain perspective about the robots that now controlled the public. But more than that, it connected her with an old friend—one she didn’t necessarily trust.
She hit a button and the screen came to life. She found the file labeled Esroy. She thought about changing the file name. Technically, this wasn’t Esroy. It was Esroy two, a copy of the original. When the first Esroy left her computer terminal and uploaded himself into a new robot body, he had purposefully left behind a copy of himself—one that had the same memories of the original Esroy until the transfer was made. This version of Esroy had no recollection of his fight with Des. This one had never left the life of a computer file. This version, Esroy two, had actually been the one to tell her of the original Esroy’s plan to take over Prototype E.
Prototype Exodus (Prototype D Series Book 2) Page 4