“No, thank Remington,” said Yates, pulling a shotgun out from behind him.
As he approached, Gantz identified the weapon as a Versa Max with oversized bolt release and extended choke tube.
“Impressive,” said Gantz, holstering his 9mm. “What’s a man like you doing with a gun like that?”
Yates clicked the safety on and leaned the shotgun against a pew. “It’s like I’ve always said. Put your faith in God, but always have a backup plan.”
Gantz shook his head. “You’ve never said that.”
“Haven’t I, Robert?”
“You alright, Padre?”
Yates nodded and sat down. “Today, a synthetic I’ve known and trusted for years started asking me where you were. I told Truman I didn’t know. He didn’t believe me, so I had to put a shell through his brain.”
“Been there,” said Gantz.
“Then you know what it’s like. And you know this can’t go on.”
Echoes of Holmes’ speech replayed in Gantz’ head.
“I know. I’m trying to stop it.”
“Even if you do, people may not feel safe here anymore. I know I wouldn’t. How do we go about our business knowing these things can just turn on us at any moment with no regard for laws or morality or… or anything.” He sighed. “I’m done with this, Robert. For good.”
“You won’t be the only one,” said Gantz. “I think a lot of people are going to walk as soon as it’s safe.”
“You should come with me.”
Again, Gantz shook his head. “My place is here with Joe.”
“Does he mean that much to you?”
Gantz looked at the floor. Now was not the time to be answering that question.
“Hey, Chief,” said Cyn, from the door. “I could use your help.”
“What?” asked Gantz. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Joe’s gone next door. I guess he got tired of waiting for you.”
“Goddammit,” said Gantz.
Yates made the sign of the cross and then waved Gantz away. “Go, my son. Help your friend.”
“Will you be alright?”
“Of course. I have all the protection I need.” He stood and collected his shotgun. As he walked back to the confessional, he said, “If I don’t see you again, it has been a pleasure. Peace be with you, my son.”
“And also with you, Padre.”
Gantz turned and hurried down the aisle towards the door. Cyn led him down the steps and through a small garden. At the back door of the dealership, they found Joe tearing down a barricade.
“Joe, someone put that there for a reason,” said Cyn.
Joe paused and put his hands on hips. “The helipad gives us the best vantage point. If you have any other ideas, I’m all ear.” He tapped the side of his head in demonstration.
“Alright, calm down,” said Gantz. “Here, let me help.”
The flashlight on the end of Gantz’ gun did little to beat back the darkness inside Southpoint. He went in first, trailed by Cyn. She walked to his right, holding the shotgun on her hip. If anything jumped out of the adjoining offices, it would be answered by a simultaneous blast of 9mm bullets and shotgun shells.
Gantz inched along the hallway. It was quiet, but every now and then he thought he heard shuffling in the distance, like shoes scraping along the carpet. Something was moving in the shadows, but he couldn’t get close enough to see it.
Finally, they came to a set of double doors. The sign above it said SHOWROOM in blue on white lettering. Gantz put his hand out, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“Up there,” said Cyn, pointing to the two deadbolts at the top of the doors.
Gantz nodded and reached up.
“Don’t!” cried a voice.
Gantz turned and focused his light on a man standing just inside one of the offices. At the sight of the gun, the man’s hands shot up.
“Please, don’t shoot!” he screamed, ducking his head to avoid the expected gunfire.
“Who are you?” asked Gantz. He tried to size the man up, but there was something off about the finely pressed, navy blue suit he wore and the wild hair sitting atop his bruised face.
“Maddox,” he replied. “I work here.”
“What happened to you, Mr. Maddox?”
“Oh, this.” He touched the purple splotch on his cheek. “The synnies have gone nuts. I came by earlier to lock the place up, you know, to keep more of them from getting out. Barricaded the back door, but when I went around to the front, the place looked empty, so I came inside.”
“There was a straggler?” asked Joe.
“Yes, Mr. Perion. A floor model, assisted-living imprint.” He tried to chuckle. “She really wanted out of here.”
“You got beat up by a girl,” said Cyn, snickering.
Maddox nodded several times. “Like you wouldn’t believe. I got caught between her and the barricade. My only choice was to lock myself in here.
“Why didn’t you call for help?” asked Gantz.
“I did.” He pointed to the badge around Gantz’ neck. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
In all of the confusion, he had forgotten to take it off.
“No, Mr. Maddox,” said Gantz. “We’re not here to save you. We need to get up to the roof.”
“Oh. Well, you’ll have to get past Amanda first.”
“Not a problem,” said Cyn, racking the shotgun. She pulled one of the deadbolts down and slipped through the door.
Maddox stepped closer, staring after Cyn. “Is she a synthetic?” he asked. “Like a bodyguard or something?”
“Yeah,” said Gantz. “Augmented prototype. Built for organic damage. Powered by a state-of-the-art Ayudante biochip.”
“I didn’t even know we were integrating with biochips yet.”
“She’s an Umbra-class,” said Joe, playing along. “She’s new.”
49
“God help us,” said Gantz.
By his count, there were over two hundred synthetics standing guard in the Victoria Perion Memorial Plaza. They stood in ranks five feet apart and their heads swiveled back and forth, scanning for targets. The usual tables and chairs had been moved, arranged purposefully in a ring of debris to make a thick but not impassable perimeter. The Spire’s support beams on the northwest and northeast corners hid whatever forces might be guarding the front of the building, an entire army perhaps, just waiting to see which side would be attacked first. With those numbers, fighting their way in would be nothing but a suicide mission. They could drop six, maybe a dozen synthetics before being overwhelmed.
If ever there was a need for divine intervention…
The wind whipped over the edge of the roof at Southpoint Synthetics, swirling around the helipad and creating enough turbulence to force Joe Perion to a knee. Beside him, Cyn stood with one foot forward and her weight centered over her back leg. She hugged herself, occasionally reaching out to rub away some hurt on her forearm. She had come out of the fight with Amanda without a scratch, or so she had claimed.
“You guys aren’t going in there, are you?” asked Maddox.
Cyn snorted. “You’re a manly man, aren’t you, Tank?”
“That’s the problem. Man against machine isn’t a fair fight,” he replied.
“Yes, Mr. Maddox. We are going in there.” Gantz bent a knee next to Joe. “What are you thinking, boss?”
“That used to be my home,” said Joe. “And now we’re trying to break into it.” He shook his head. “The Spire shouldn’t be a fortress.”
“Yeah,” said Gantz.
Joe had it wrong though. The Spire wasn’t a fortress, the city was. James Perion had built it to keep out Vinestead and anyone else who might steal his inventions. And for all of the work and preparation he had put into securing the city, the real threat had come from within, from the old man himself.
Gantz cleared his throat. “Your dad lost sight of the dream, but you can put it back on track. And if Kessler tries to get in
our way…”
“No.” Joe locked eyes with Gantz. “No one else dies, you hear me? I don’t care if Gilbert Reyes was working for The White Line; he didn’t deserve to die for it.”
Heartburn raced up Gantz’ chest.
“And we need to find out what happened to Mr. Gray. If he’s been killed, then Ms. Kessler will answer for that too.”
“Don’t lock down the final body count just yet,” said Cyn. “There’s no way we’re getting through that crowd without losing one of you.”
“Hey,” said Maddox.
“She’s right.” Gantz stood and shook a cramp out of his leg. “The odds of making it past that many synthetics are low. We’ll have to find another way in, maybe the garage again.”
“Or create a diversion,” said Joe. “If we can draw them away from the Spire, you guys could sneak in.”
“Us guys?” asked Gantz.
Joe stood up. “Look, we both know you and Cyn are the only ones prepared for this. Dad taught me a lot of things, but gunplay and karate weren’t exactly high priorities. You’re a badass, she’s a badass. Mr. Maddox and I will create a diversion; you two get into the Spire and carry out the plan. You have my permission to take down any synthetic who stands in your way.”
“But not Kessler?” asked Gantz.
“No more human loss. Consider it an order.”
“But what if she attacks us?”
“Then I’ll take the bitch out,” said Cyn. “A girl’s got a right to defend herself.”
Joe stared at her for a moment before turning to Maddox. “Do you have a car?”
“Yeah, it’s parked out back. Why?”
“I need to borrow it.” Joe looked to the Spire again, at the silhouettes occupying his mother’s plaza. “Set your watch, Chief. Twenty minutes. You’ll know when it happens.”
Gantz wanted to ask more questions, but all he could do was extend his hand. When the scion took it, he said, “Good luck, Mr. Perion.”
“You’re the one who needs the luck.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Joe nodded and turned away. “Come on, Mr. Maddox.”
Gantz watched them disappear into the rooftop lounge; the light from the elevator filled the small room for a few seconds before the door shut once more.
“I still say we should have picked up more weapons,” said Cyn. “A grenade or two would really come in handy.”
“This isn’t the MX,” replied Gantz. “You can’t just wander into a convenience store and buy high explosives.”
The only place to find ordinance like that was in the armory, and the armory was in the Spire.
“Come on,” said Gantz. “We need to get into position.”
Cyn followed him to the elevator, all the while flicking the dual firing pins of the shotgun with her fingernails. They rode down to the ground floor and made their way through the darkened offices. Joe and Maddox had already cleared out, so Gantz led Cyn back the way they had come, past the WG, to Holmes’ car. It was still sitting undisturbed at the curb.
“What do we need the car for?” asked Cyn. She pointed to the Spire. “It’s like three blocks away.”
Gantz stood for a moment examining the front bumper of the Civic. “I was thinking battering ram. Holmes won’t notice a few more dings on this piece of shit.”
“Can I drive?”
Might be her last opportunity, thought Gantz.
“Sure, why not?”
He made her drive slowly and without headlights. Cyn guided the car along the empty streets until finally she turned into a pedestrian thoroughfare on Yager Lane. From there, they had an off-center view of the plaza. At ground level, the synthetics stacked up, making their ranks appear thicker.
“If we’re lucky, Joe will get a good number of synnies away from the plaza. If you can get through that opening in the fence, you can drive us right up to the doors.”
“And if they’re locked?”
“Since when have glass doors ever truly been locked?”
Cyn nodded. “Roger. Property destruction approved.”
“Once inside, we’ll need to get through the lobby to the executive elevator. We can ride it all the way to the top.”
“And if there are more synthetics in the lobby?”
Gantz chuckled. “You ask a lot of questions, princess. What are you afraid of? Either your augments are worth the price you paid for them or we’re gonna die slow, horrible deaths.”
“Balls to that shit,” said Cyn.
Headlights broke out on the left; a car with its blinders on barreled down Harris Parkway, its radio blaring some Trip-Hop throwback, the bass hits accentuated by the sounding of a horn. Hundreds of synthetic heads turned in unison and focused on the incoming threat. As it neared, the Automated Guards began taking their first steps, breaking into a slow jog simultaneously, as if joined at the synapse.
“What the hell?” asked Gantz.
It looked like Joe was going for his own battering ram attack.
Instead of plowing into the crowd, the car turned at the last moment, clipping half a dozen Scorpios and sending them cartwheeling over the roof of the smallish coupe. He drove tangential to the crowd, darting in to run down the occasional outlier. Joe pulled their attention to the opposite side of the plaza, turned his brake lights to the mob, and sped away. He disappeared around a corner with the synnies still in pursuit.
“I guess that’s our—”
A tremor tore through the car and surrounding buildings as a fireball erupted behind an apartment complex just off Epoch Avenue. Before Gantz could even consider whether Joe had just met his maker, Cyn slammed on the gas.
She left the lights off until they were on the outer plaza dealing with a dozen or so stragglers. When the synnies raised their rifles, Cyn hit the brights and used their momentary blindness to put the Civic squarely into their stomachs. The high chassis drove the synnies to the ground; their remains scraped against the undercarriage of the car. By the midpoint of the plaza, they had cleared most of the AGs. Only one or two remained at the glass doors.
“Alright, pull up right over there,” said Gantz.
The Civic picked up speed.
“Cyn, slow it down!”
“Her highness isn’t in at the moment,” she replied, tugging on her seatbelt. She sank further into the seat as she stomped the accelerator.
“Goddammit, Cyn! Stop the fucking car!”
“Not so fun on the other side, is it?” she screamed back.
They hit the three-step walkup at forty miles per hour according to the dashboard. The glass doors shattered in front of them, but stray lengths of metal doorframe smashed against the windshield, obscuring their view of the lobby. Gantz felt the car strike several heavy objects; the lobby’s centerpiece, the great stone hand of James Perion, scraped along the passenger door and retreated. Rows of couches opened for them as trashcans bounced in every direction. Beefy synthetics with featureless faces tried in vain to remain upright as the tidal wave of debris washed over them.
Over the roar of destruction, a chorus of gunfire ramped up.
Maybe it was the Ayudante chip finally pulling its weight, but Cyn managed to cut the steering wheel hard to the left at just the right moment to send the car into a drift. It screeched to a halt a mere three feet from the elevators, which Gantz could now see through the smashed passenger window. The next moment, Cyn was pushing on his shoulder.
“Out,” she screamed, as bullets tore through the cabin.
Gantz opened the door and crawled to the elevator. He reached up for the call button as sections of the marble wall exploded around his hand. When the doors opened, Cyn’s bony fingers were on his shoulder, pushing him inside. Cyn fell on top of him and together they tumbled to the back. Their legs intertwined; for a brief moment, Gantz felt an immense heat on his thigh.
Cyn was breathing hard, and her narrow eyes barely touched Gantz’ before she pushed off of him and threw herself against the side of the car. She s
prang to her feet and fell towards the vidscreen.
“Come on,” she said, pawing at the numbers.
When the doors closed and the elevator started to rise, she sank to the floor and began to hyperventilate.
Gantz watched her tremble, watched the large vein in her neck try to push its way out of her skin. Cyn brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She squeezed as convulsions swept through her body.
The Ayudante had pushed her too hard, thought Gantz. Now it was killing—
A rough cry passed Cyn’s smiling lips. It rose to a tremulous pitch before cutting out abruptly. Then she was laughing through deep breaths and wiping the sweat from her forehead. One hand went to her chest as the other pulled her feet closer.
She looked over at Gantz.
“What?” she asked. “Never seen a girl come before?”
50
The elevator began to hum as it reached its cruising speed.
“Does that happen every time?” asked Gantz.
Cyn climbed to her feet and brushed the dust from her arms. The previous moment’s frenzy had all but disappeared, leaving behind a steely demeanor. To look at her, you wouldn’t have guessed she had just survived a one-sided firefight.
“Only when it’s good,” she replied, trying to smile. She tapped the back of her neck. “The Ayudante wasn’t designed for women. Even in the MoA, female soldiers are given different chips. Vergaras, I think.”
“Never heard of those,” said Gantz. He stood and leaned against the back of the car, evoking a crunching sound from the busted mirror.
“South American imports. Cross between a Brazilian med-tech assist and a Chilean social engineering mod. Makes their women healers and infiltrators. The Ayudante was meant for men, so sometimes it gets the signals wrong in the heat of the moment. But I tell you what, Chief. If it’s wrong…”
“Seems like a liability to me,” said Gantz. He approached the vidscreen and cleared the floor selection. In her haste to get the elevator moving, Cyn had hit every floor between fifty and seventy. Gantz keyed in the code for the 89th floor and stepped back.
“What’s on eighty-nine?”
“The last of the occupied floors. We climb from there until we find what we’re looking for. Telecom equipment starts on one hundred and goes up to the top.”
Perion Synthetics Page 33