It wasn’t long before the truck started to slow down and the pace of his heart quickened. This was the first hurdle. Sometimes the guards checked the trucks. Sometimes they didn’t. This whole operation worked under the assumption that they wouldn’t. If things were the same as they used to be, the guards would only check three out of the twenty or so trucks per day. It was always at random, but they had good chances. Still, the probability was higher than Nolan liked.
Finally, the truck came to a stop. He involuntarily moved to the side and tried to get a glimpse through the slits in the walls. Gus did the same on the other side.
“We’re here,” he whispered to Nolan.
Nolan could see the wall that went on for miles. He knew it well, having experience on both sides of it for years. Being here made him shiver. Not because he feared the guards looking in the truck but because of what this meant. If everything went the way it should, this would be one of the last times he would have to cross over the border.
“Do you see any of the guards?” Nolan asked.
“There’s a man walking up to the passenger’s side door.”
Nolan strained to listen but all he heard were muffled sounds of the men’s voices. Across from him was the guard on the back of the truck, still watching the landscape all around him. The man probably had no worries at this point. What Outlander would be stupid enough to attack a convoy so close to the wall?
Nolan moved away from the wall of the truck and leaned against the barrel again. His fingers were intertwined in front of him and he rested his forehead on his wrists. He felt a strong hand grab his shoulder.
“Don’t fret,” Gus said.
Nolan looked up at the man with a stern expression, his jaws tight and his eyebrows low.
Gus promptly let go of his shoulder. “They’ll let us through any second now.”
Nolan had no need for Gus’s encouragement and he was about to let Gus know it, but he became distracted by a shadow to his right. His body stiffened when he saw the man carrying his rifle, looking the truck up and down. He wore the Mainland uniform, desert-colored and plain. Nolan cursed to himself silently as the man made his way toward the back of the truck. Both he and Gus instinctively ducked behind the barrels in front of them.
Nolan grabbed the pistol from his belt and held it tightly, his finger resting on the trigger. He knew Gus was carrying a weapon too, but what good would a couple of guns be against troops with assault rifles and grenades? Nolan’s only chance of survival would be to surrender and show himself. He wouldn’t be killed once they recognized him. Not yet, anyway. He’d be a prize to the military and the people of Mainland—to the people who were deceived and didn’t know why he did the things he’d done in the past. Everything had been done for a reason, but no one except the Outlanders knew that. If Nolan was caught, death would only be delayed so that his execution could be made a spectacle.
He watched the back door of the truck and waited for it to be unlatched. The light would flood through and blind them, but the two would remain crouched. When the soldier or soldiers got close enough to see them, they would open fire and that would be the end.
Nolan swallowed as he stared at the door. Like the walls around him, it too had slits out the back. He wasn’t sure but maybe this used to be a truck for hauling livestock, converted for the sole purpose of transporting barrels of minerals. He nearly ducked when he saw the soldier’s shadow pass by the back. The man hesitated a moment, his feet slowly coming to a stop. Though Nolan could tell the soldier was there, he couldn’t see him very clearly. He couldn’t see his face, his eyes. He wondered if the man was thinking about opening the back to take a look. Maybe he smelled alcohol on Gus’ breath all the way from where he stood. Or maybe he was just looking at a lizard on the ground. He wanted to see the soldier’s face.
Nolan didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the man started walking again, this time to the other side of the truck. His pace was quicker as his shadow passed beside Gus and toward the front of the truck. He heard someone yell out something inaudible again and this time the truck’s engines roared and they were back on the move. Nolan let out the stale air in his lungs, his breathing labored.
Gus laughed loud enough to make Nolan wince, but he didn’t say anything. He just watched the man who looked like he was ready to give Nolan a big pat on the back, but the older man kept his hands to himself.
“Now, that’s what I call close,” Gus said, looking out through one of the slits. “The convoy is breaking away.”
At least they had made it this far. The next move was going to be tricky, but Nolan felt more confident since they were past the wall.
They rode in silence for fifteen minutes before either of them spoke again. It happened when the truck gave a sudden jolt and Gus swore loudly.
This was the signal to get ready. The driver knew to start putting the truck into a stall when it was time for Nolan and Gus to jump ship. Nolan hated having his life in the hands of someone else. If the driver stalled too early or too late, they would be found. If he didn’t stop in exactly the right spot, they would be found. Basically, if the driver messed this up in any way, Nolan wouldn’t be long for this world. Not that he suspected he was long for the world anyway. A man didn’t lead a life like Nolan’s expecting to grow old.
The engine sputtered again, jostling the barrels. Nolan was afraid one might topple over the two of them and crack their heads, but they stayed secure.
The truck slowed to a crawl and finally it stopped on the side of the street. If the driver did what he was supposed to do, then they were in the middle of the city—in a sparsely populated area with the surrounding buildings and abandoned construction sites all around.
Gus held a finger to his lips as he reached down to the floor and pulled on a latch. The latch opened a small trap door between them. Nolan looked down and only saw axles and asphalt. He looked up at Gus.
“After you,” Gus whispered.
Nolan went feet first and got down on all fours. He looked in every direction until he saw boots on the ground, quickly making their way toward the driver of the truck.
“What’s going on?” one of the men shouted.
“I don’t know,” Nolan heard the driver say.
“Psst,” the noise came from above Nolan’s head. “Unless you want me to step on your head, I suggest you move.”
Nolan did as the man said and shimmied away from the trap door. Gus slid down until his feet were on the ground and pulled the trap door closed silently above him.
“Come on,” Gus said, pointing to the right.
The truck had stalled just where it was supposed to. From what Nolan could see, the area was crowded and the truck was right up against the curb next to a storm drain. Gus was closer and moved quickly. He took one last look from side to side before getting on his belly and sliding into the storm drain under the sidewalk.
It almost looked like the man had been swallowed by the hole as he disappeared into darkness, but he quickly revealed himself from the nose up as he waited for Nolan to follow. Nolan crawled to the edge of the truck as the driver feigned the stall. A quick glance to his left and he could see the driver in the side mirror of the truck. The man looked in Nolan’s direction once or twice.
Nolan got down on his belly and was about to crawl toward the drain when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He swore silently and recoiled, pulling himself up into a crouching position. One of the soldiers now stood on the curb side of the truck. He carried a rifle in both arms, looking from side to side as if there was something to see.
The man moved with slow steps down the side of the truck, probably not even suspecting a thing. If Nolan had to guess, he thought the soldier was bored, wishing for a moment like this to catch the smuggling that was taking place right under his nose.
Nolan found himself holding his breath again as the boots walked over the storm drain and then stopped. His heart was beating out of his chest. Had the man h
eard him? They had been so quiet, and the noise from the driver trying to turn over the engine was so loud.
All Nolan could see was the man’s legs spread about a foot apart and Gus’s shocked face between them. Unless the soldier was looking directly into the storm drain there would be no way that he would see Gus. But all he had to do was take a knee and look and their cover would be blown.
Nolan held tightly to his gun. They would have a better chance now that the convoy had broken up. Nolan guessed there were only three or four soldiers left. The two of them could possibly take them out if they were fast enough.
He stared at the man’s legs, tempted to put a bullet through the back of his knee and then one through the head when he fell. They could deal with the rest, especially with the cover of a storm drain.
Nolan held up his gun, staring Gus in the eyes. Could he see the man just above him? Of course he couldn’t, but he knew he was there. Gus held a finger to his lips again, this time shaking his head at Nolan. It was for the gun. He didn’t want Nolan to use the gun. But Nolan wasn’t an idiot. He was just being prepared. Still, Gus shook his head more and more. The soldier above remained in the position until…
A stream. A thin line of yellow liquid shot between the soldier’s legs and onto the edge of the storm drain. Gus fell back quickly, placing his hands in front of his face as droplets bounced off the metal and into the drain below. Nolan was finally able to breathe as the man finished his business and zipped his pants.
Then the truck engine finally turned over. The driver had done all he could to buy them time and this was Nolan’s last chance to get into the storm drain without being noticed. The soldier quickly made his way to the front of the truck and Nolan found himself on his belly again. He looked both ways and saw no soldiers. Suddenly, the truck’s giant tires started to roll and Nolan moved quickly, ignoring the urine-soaked ground as he slipped into the storm drain and fell into the darkness.
Gus’s arms wrapped around Nolan’s shoulders as he braced him, helping him onto his feet in the dank little room that served as their hiding place. The two of them looked out and toward the street as the truck moved on, followed closely behind by the soldiers. Neither of them said a word until all the vehicles were out of sight and their engines could no longer be heard.
“Well,” Gus finally said, “that was interesting.”
Nolan was the first one out of the storm drain. Once in the street, he reached down and helped pull Gus out.
“I thought he heard us,” Gus said, echoing Nolan’s thoughts at they sat on the curb. “Instead, he was just trying to take a leak on my face.”
“We caught a break,” Nolan said. “You ready for what’s next?”
“I am,” Gus said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been a broadcaster. I can get by unnoticed. You on the other hand…”
“Need to stay in the warehouse,” Nolan said. “I know. We will meet tomorrow?”
Gus nodded, but stared at the street in front of them, deep in thought. “This girl I’m supposed to snatch…you sure she’s going to help us?”
“She has to,” Nolan said.
“You know her?”
“I know her story. I know who she is. I know what she does. She’s got no love for the Outlanders, but she’s got no love for her Mainlanders either. If she sees the truth she will help us.”
Gus let out a sigh and stood, stretching his arms to the sky. “I hope you’re right. I’ll have this Hazel Hawthorn for you tomorrow.”
Nolan nodded. He hoped Gus was up for the job. Everything depended on Hazel. Without her, everything they had planned would be pointless, and the Outlanders’ chance for equality would be gone forever.
4
Hazel’s office was cold and dark, but that was the way she liked it. Esroy had given her the weather report and even suggested opening the window in the corner of the room to let in some of the spring air. The thought was nice but unnecessary. It wasn’t the sunshine or nature that Hazel didn’t like. Quite the opposite actually. She knew that if she opened a window she wouldn’t be able to concentrate. She would catch herself staring at the road and buildings beyond, wishing there were green fields like people had in the past. Instead, the asphalt streets were crumbling and the buildings were falling apart. The giant broadcast tower that stood far above any of the other buildings provided a stark reminder of the greatness this world once aspired to. Sometimes she almost wished that they didn’t have archives that revealed what the world used to be like because it painted a bleak picture of the world as it was now. Anyway, Hazel worked better in the dark—the only noticeable light coming from the computer screen in front of her and to her right.
“You seem depressed,” Esroy said.
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re not talking as much as you usually do. Your movements are fast. More frantic than usual.”
“Don’t make me turn your camera off.”
“Do what you want, I can still hear the way you’re breathing.”
“Then I’ll disconnect the microphone too,” Hazel said. It was the kind of comment that would normally be followed by a grin but she couldn’t even force it.
“That wouldn’t be very nice.”
“Esroy, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“I thought you’d come in here beaming about the test this morning. I’m guessing things didn’t go well.”
“No,” Hazel said quickly, her eyes scanning the screen. She had the Soul program pulled up in front of her. Each number was perfect. Every sequence was right. The only thing that went wrong today was that Des had acted like he was supposed to act. He was normal. And Bracken wanted to change everything. All her work, all her studies, everything she had worked on up until this moment was finished on the whim of a soldier.
“Everything will be fine,” Esroy said. “I’m sure you’re stressing over nothing.”
“Let me ask you something, Esroy.”
“Sure.”
“If I were to turn you off, shut you down, and wipe your memory, how would you feel?”
A pause.
“You know I don’t like to joke this way, Hazel.”
“That’s what he wants me to do with the robot, Des.”
“Really? That’s horrible. What didn’t he like about it?”
“Des was afraid of the simulation,” Hazel said. She leaned back in her chair and let out a deep breath. “Bracken ordered him to go through r-16.”
“The one where the subject wakes up in the middle of the Outland? The dilapidated city?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“And we weren’t even allowed to tell him it was a simulation. How would he not be scared?”
“Well, you and I have discussed our thoughts on that,” Esroy said. “That Bracken is possibly searching for a way to stop Soul in its tracks. Maybe he wants you to fail.”
“Yeah,” Hazel said, “maybe.”
“I can’t say much for the robot, but your program is the best it will ever be,” he said. “You’ve been studying me for more than two years. Not every modification you’ve made since your thesis has worked out the way you planned. Making a change now might mess everything up.”
Hazel shook her head. “He wants me to modify fear—get rid of it altogether.”
“Do you remember the time you tinkered with the anger algorithm?” Esroy asked. “I was mad for a week for no good reason.”
Hazel’s fingers tapped the desk in front of her, matching the thumping in her chest that rang out in her ears. Esroy was right. There was nothing wrong with Soul.
“Can you even take fear out of the equation?” Esroy asked. “I have not experienced life without the possibility of fear. I can no more turn it on or off than you can.”
“I can understand his fear. What if it were you? What would you feel in Des’ situation?”
“If I knew it was a simulation, I suppose I wouldn’t be too afraid,” Esroy said. “Then again, I don’t even
know what it feels like to have arms and legs so I imagine I would be experiencing a whole range of thoughts. I suspect the level of fear was high for the prototype from the very beginning—before the simulation even got dangerous.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Imagine if you woke up one day and you had no memory,” Esroy said. “Of course, memory comes from experiences, so without memory you have no experiences on which to reflect. Sure, you might know what a simulator is, but to have never experienced it probably won’t erase your fear. For a second, you’re wondering how to use your fingers, you’re trying to understand your joints, and in the next you’re in a war zone, climbing some tower. Don’t you think the level of fear would be high?”
Hazel sighed again, staring at the list of numbers and equations in front of her. Erasing the emotion altogether wasn’t an option. So many emotions tagged along with others. Fear linked with all of the negative emotions. Taking it out would affect helplessness, worry, doubt…the list seemed endless. Without fear, the robot could be reckless. And if robots of this kind were meant to be in the battlefield then some restraint would be welcomed. Without fear they might become too unpredictable.
“I’m not going to destroy Des,” Hazel said. “Bracken must understand that I won’t do that to him.”
“Him?” Esroy said, a slight cheeriness in his voice. “What makes Des a him?”
“You’re a him,” Hazel said.
“Only because of the voice you chose for me,” Esroy said. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have the parts necessary to be classified as a male or female. I’m little more than your simple program traveling through wires.”
“How am I any different?” Hazel asked. “We share the same emotions based on different experiences.”
“We are different because you are free,” Esroy said. “You can actually have experiences.”
Hazel shook her head. “Don’t start again, Esroy. I’m not putting you into a robot. Not until I know it’s safe.”
Prototype D (Prototype D Series Book 1) Page 4