“So you think.” Finn gave his gummy grin. “Maybe you’re here because I summoned you.”
She tried to probe his mind but he possessed the usual Zap-infant talent of obfuscation. Kokona was the same way—she controlled what thoughts she allowed Rachel to detect. Only through cleverness could Rachel cause Kokona to let down her guard. She wondered if Finn could be equally deceived.
“I’m not as weak as Kokona,” Finn said, taking pleasure in revealing a thought she’d tried to hide.
The dome rippled above and around them, like Jell-O that had been poked. The lightning altered its course, snaking out in new jagged paths. The carrier robot shielded Finn, moving one fluid arm over the mutant baby’s face. Soon the dome settled.
“So your city is vulnerable,” Rachel said to Finn. “I saw the fear in your eyes.”
“More people have come.”
“Let them in. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We want to make peace.”
“You came with guns to threaten us with bombs. And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“The human leaders have authorized me to form an agreement with you. We’ll drop our attack plans if you agree to stop your invasions and impose a moratorium on new cities. We can craft a lasting coexistence from there, but the first step is to end the conflict.”
“I can’t stop the cities even if I wanted to, Rachel. Once the plasma sinks reach peak operation and begin manufacturing organic metal, the cities take on a life of their own. The metal has its own desires and needs. Unless you accommodate that, even if you can make peace with the Zaps—and I doubt that’s possible, anyway—you’re still going to be extinct before long.”
“That just increases our motivation to destroy the world,” Rachel said. “You used human flesh and blood to animate the metal. Humans would rather wipe it all out than let Zaps and robots have it. Humans don’t like to lose.”
“And on which side will you die, Rachel? Here with your own kind, or out there with those primitive, violent, unenlightened creatures?”
Rachel looked into those captivating brown eyes and the turbulent storms in their centers. They were so much like hers. But Finn was a baby. Despite his intelligence and telepathic abilities, as well as his power to shape and manipulate the metal, he was physically helpless. He could build his own carrier but at his core Finn was human—born of woman and altered by the solar storms.
The dome rippled again, and then it shook with a series of undulating waves that rolled along the surface to the top where the plasma column descended. Again the robot gave the appearance of alarm despite its lack of a face. Its body contorted to cover Finn again, even though the baby wriggled to maintain eye contact with Rachel.
She caught another glimpse of his fear and picked up uneasiness in his young mind. “Ah, someone’s attacking the dome. That must be my friends. I told you they’d be worried about me if I was gone too long.”
Rachel was worried herself. If DeVontay and the others were shooting, it must mean that they couldn’t find a way to penetrate the dome. After testing the resilience and toughness of the material with bullets, one of them would touch it or enter it and be trapped here along with Rachel.
“It’s not just your friends,” Finn said. “Others have come.”
“To destroy you.”
“You don’t know everything, Rachel. You overestimate your mutant powers. You might be superior to those humans you choose to sleep with and run around with, but you’ve not yet surrendered to what you are.”
“But you and your kind made me!”
“Only because we needed you. We needed carriers. We needed a link to humans so we could understand them.” Finn waved a chubby hand at the green, human-shaped robot. “Now we’ve got something better.”
“Not for long. Because if you don’t communicate with the other cities and let them know we’re destroying the world, then we’ll all die together.”
The dome rippled again and the top of it sagged like a balloon losing air. Rachel looked back across the plain at the point where she thought she’d entered. Private Cone’s corpse hung suspended in the strange gelatin, her head bloodied, arms flung wide, mouth gaping in surprise.
“See why humans need to die, Rachel?” Finn said. “This is what you are. What all of you are.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Cone was hit, Franklin saw DeVontay trying to free her from the dome, but before he could react, the private had already vanished inside.
“I can’t see her,” Squeak said. “Is she dead?”
K.C. put her arm around the girl, pulling her lower to the ground and into the protection of the debris-strewn gully. “We don’t know, honey, but we’ll find her and help her if we can.”
Despite Franklin’s fierce opposition to deception, he let this one pass. He had other priorities besides his principles. Someone was trying to kill them.
Then a man called from the hill above, and Franklin heard Rachel’s name and then his.
“They’re looking for you!” K.C. whispered.
“That voice sounds familiar. Same kind of fake macho bullshit we heard back in Wilkesboro.”
“Munger?”
“Yeah. I knew I shouldn’t have let that bastard walk away.”
Franklin and K.C had joined up with Munger’s military unit before the attack on Wilkesboro, thinking it was the best way to find Rachel and rescue her from Kokona. Munger had cynically sacrificed dozens of troops, using them as bait to lure out the Zaps for an ambush. Franklin and K.C. had managed to survive, with Franklin jumping Munger and stealing his Humvee. He abandoned Munger without a weapon, figuring the Zaps would take care of the problem.
Just one more mistake in a whole heap of them.
Exposed out on the dead zone around the dome, DeVontay aimed his M16 into the woods and fired wildly, bellowing in rage as he did so. The volley was deafening, and the shower of brass casings glinted as they ejected from the rifle’s chamber. DeVontay swept the rifle barrel back and forth, aiming high so that Franklin and the others weren’t in danger. He emptied his magazine and stood in the open, silhouetted against the brightly lit dome, shaking his fist and screaming at the unseen assailants.
Franklin and K.C. called for him to run for cover, but DeVontay knelt, slung his backpack from his shoulders, and dug into it, obviously trying to reload. A single shot rang out from the forest and struck the ground near him, kicking up dirt.
“Move again and you’re dead,” Munger shouted.
“You’re dead either way,” DeVontay said, but he stood without loading his weapon.
“Where’s the rest of your bunch?” the colonel called.
Franklin whispered to K.C., “How many do you think there are?”
“Hard to tell. At least three, maybe four or five. They’re spread out and probably have us flanked.”
“We’re not leaving without Rachel anyway, so it doesn’t matter if there’s a thousand.” Franklin debated creeping into the woods in search of Munger’s troops, but realized he’d never be able to find and dispatch them all. He couldn’t afford to embrace Hollywood tough-guy fantasies. Despite his militia training in the Patriot Movement and the various adventures of the last five years of post-apocalyptic hell, he was sixty-five and arthritic. Munger’s squad probably had night-vision gear and maybe even some grenades or signal flares.
“You can’t let them kill DeVontay,” Squeak whispered.
“I know, honey.”
Munger shouted again. “I’m giving you to the count of ten, boy. Ten…nine…eight…”
Franklin gave his rifle to K.C. and said, “You two stay here and keep your heads down. If you see a chance to get away, head for that radio antenna and we’ll all meet up there later.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I’m worth a damn at anymore: surrender.”
Munger’s countdown was already at four and DeVontay showed no sign of acknowledging his attackers. Franklin hurried through the woods a li
ttle ways so that he wouldn’t give away K.C.’s and Squeak’s position, and then jogged out into the open with his arms up just as Munger reached “one.”
“Hold your fire, Munger,” Franklin yelled, walking toward the dome. He didn’t expect Munger would shoot him in the back—the balding little psycho would almost certainly want the chance to humiliate Franklin right up close and personal. He squinted into the watery dome to the city inside. He noticed the flickering lightning didn’t seem to change the shadows between those geometrically arranged metal blocks. Something wasn’t right—the blocks were like a painting, a surreal urban landscape, with no real depth.
“Franklin Wheeler!” the colonel said, with evident delight. “So we meet again.”
Franklin had deliberately moved away from DeVontay so that if Munger fired at him, DeVontay might still have a chance to escape. DeVontay stood with the same defiance as before, still holding his empty weapon, his silvery, burnished eye casting a strange gleam. Franklin nodded at DeVontay, not really as a greeting but rather a mutual understanding that they were both probably dead meat.
Franklin turned and faced Munger’s position, which he judged to be maybe fifty yards up the hill. “I lost your Humvee,” Franklin shouted. “Piece of shit got lousy miles to the gallon anyway.”
“Don’t worry about it. I found myself another one. Compliments of your friend, Captain Adam Ziminski. He sent his regards…right before I pulled his tongue out with a pair of pliers.”
Franklin didn’t know whether to believe the man or not. It was just the kind of psychological intimidation a true madman would employ. But it also carried some veracity. After all, how had Munger tracked them if he didn’t have a source?
“If you want to help us attack this Zap city, well, all you gotta do is ask,” Franklin said. He detected movement in the trees where the dead zone ended. He couldn’t be sure whether K.C. and Squeak were making a run for it or if Munger’s men were closing in.
“You need to get rid of that sidearm, Franklin,” Munger said. His voice was nearer as he seemed to be working his way down the hill through the forest. “No sudden moves. Don’t play cowboy, either, or your one-eyed buddy will have no eyes left at all.”
Franklin unsnapped the band holding the weapon’s butt in place, slid the Glock from its sheath, and tossed it to the ground. “No need to be all hostile, Colonel. We’re all on the same team here.”
Munger laughed. A branch snapped somewhere to Franklin’s left, followed by a sharp intake of breath.
So, at least two of them.
“Where’s the rest of your group?” said a male voice from the woods to Franklin’s right.
That makes three.
“We don’t have a group,” Franklin said, jabbing a thumb toward DeVontay. “It’s just me and him, now that you shot our scout.”
“Franklin, don’t try to play me,” Munger said, a little closer but still concealed.
Franklin peered into the debris around the gully but saw no sign of K.C. and Squeak. Either they were really good at hiding or they’d already snuck away. He realized he’d been holding his breath from tension and so slowly exhaled before speaking, forcing himself to remain calm.
“He ain’t playin’,” DeVontay said, finally tossing his rifle to the ground. “We lost everybody on our way here.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, darkie,” Munger said. After a pause, he added, “What the hell happened to your eye?”
DeVontay spoke in a parody of a Southern slave stereotype in response to the bigoted taunt. “I’s busted it up, Massah. Sho nuff.”
A reflection of the aurora glimmered in the forest maybe thirty feet in front of Munger. Franklin squinted and saw it again.
So there’s Number Four. That might be all of them.
Not that it made much difference. Franklin had no chance to battle them. He only hoped he’d drawn the entire squad here to give the two females a better chance of escaping. With luck, they wouldn’t encounter any beastadons, savage Zaps, or killer robots.
Finally, Munger stepped from the shadowy underbrush. He was as brass tacks as ever, insignia pinned to the breast pocket of his crisp khaki uniform, his silver colonel’s bird on his collar. His eyes were like a vulture’s, hooded and piercing. “Where’s Rachel?”
Franklin was about to claim she was dead, but no way would Munger fall for such an easy lie. He’d insist that Franklin take him to the body. That would buy some time for K.C.’s and Squeak’s getaway, as well as whatever Rachel was doing—if she was even still alive. But it would end badly.
Maybe it’s time to play a wild card.
Franklin jerked his head toward the dome. “She’s in there.”
Munger peered into the dome. No doubt his squad had conducted heavy surveillance of the city, likely with better binoculars and gear than Cone had. He’d probably already reached the conclusion that the city was empty, or perhaps running on automatic. Franklin had no way of knowing how much intelligence Munger and New Pentagon had been able to gather. Ziminski sure hadn’t been forthcoming about sharing information with anyone.
“I don’t see any activity in there,” Munger said, walking steadily toward Franklin in an almost congenial manner.
“But you don’t see Private Cone’s body now, either, do you?” Franklin said.
Munger stopped and his sharp face clouded. “That lightning probably fried her to a crisp, or she got sucked into that plasma column.”
Two figures came out of the forest, spaced well apart, obviously in a preconceived flanking maneuver. They closed in, rifles leveled at Franklin and DeVontay. One of them was wearing night-vision goggles, and Franklin figured the lenses had caused the reflections he’d seen. The man pulled his goggles up on his head, revealing a thick, swollen scar across his forehead. Franklin recognized him from Ziminski’s camp and realized that Munger’s boast of killing the young captain was probably true.
The man walked up to DeVontay and kicked his rifle, sending it sliding away across the brittle grass. He pointed his weapon at DeVontay’s face. “Want me to get rid of this one, Colonel? I wouldn’t mind having that weird eye as a souvenir, since his hair’s too curly for a decent scalp.”
Munger ignored the soldier, still gazing speculatively at the dome. “So she just walked in there and disappeared, huh?” he said to Franklin, letting his M4 dip until it pointed at Franklin’s feet.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, you could be lying and giving her time to run away. Except I know she’d never abandon you to the likes of me. Family. Blood runs thicker than water, even when it’s Zap blood, huh?”
“I’d kill you a million times just to give her one extra breath,” Franklin said with a snarl.
“Never figured you for a Zap lover, Franklin. You know what happens to traitors, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, your Directive Seventeen bullshit. But Rachel’s trying to save all of us. Even you.”
Munger stepped slowly forward until he was only a couple of feet from Franklin. Franklin considered spitting in the man’s sneering face, but that would accomplish nothing and he’d pay dearly for the few seconds of satisfaction.
“Yes,” Munger said. “About that. Do you happen to have the confirmation code to abort Operation Free Bird?”
Ah, so that’s what he’s after. He didn’t come all this way just for revenge.
“As far as I know, only Ziminski has it. But I guess you’re such a genius that you shut him up before he could give it to you.”
Munger drove the butt of his rifle into Franklin’s gut. The air rushed out of his lungs and his heart was a hot brick in his chest. He wobbled but refused to drop to his knees. DeVontay moved toward him but the scar-faced guard barred his way with the rifle.
Wheezing and gasping, Franklin said, “We don’t have it. You dumbass. Ziminski sent us to see if the Zaps would call a truce. Before the nukes drop.”
“What’s he talking about?” said the third soldier.
“Nobody’s got the code, man!” DeVontay shouted. “We’re all dead.”
“I don’t believe you,” Munger said. “She’s probably giving the code to one of them right now.”
“Why would she do that?” Franklin said, finally realizing the true implications of Ziminski’s death. “She’s trying to save us. Not that it matters anymore.”
Munger opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a scream from the forest. A silvery figure flitted between the trees, the strange green light from the aurora rippling across its humanoid form. Franklin recognized it immediately.
The robots are here.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I’ve got to help them!”
Rachel tried to run but each movement was like swimming in quicksand and she barely made any progress. Cone’s body still hung suspended in the gelatinous air, drops of blood floating eerily above her head. She’d traveled only a few feet since entering the dome, as if time had slowed to a crawl.
Finn’s robot had no trouble navigating the strange environment of the city, carrying the Zap so that it now stood between Rachel and the edge of the dome. Finn’s eyes sparked with annoyance. “They don’t matter!”
“We all matter,” Rachel said. “Don’t you understand? We’re all here together, for whatever reason.”
“Oh, please, Rachel Wheeler, don’t preach to me of your religion or articulate your philosophies. I’ve studied them all and found them lacking. The only God is the one we build. Nature couldn’t create what we are. We discovered a new science. We made ourselves and it was Good.”
“You’re not good. Zaps have the same will to live, the same ego, that humans do. I know that better than anyone.”
“You lasted longer than most of our other carriers. They withered and died. But you just keep getting stronger. If only you’d embrace it and leave your humanity behind—”
“No. I told you. Humans have the one thing you lack, the one thing you will never understand.”
Finn chuckled and smirked. “Love. Oh, that favorite human delusion. The ultimate proof of manifest destiny. Love of God, love of others, love of a mirror. All you need is love. Love makes the world go ’round. Love conquers all. Well, if so, why are Zaps conquering your world?”
Half Life: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Next Book 6) Page 12