by K. F. Breene
After a deep breath, then two, she glanced back in the general direction of Puda. He needed help. She had to do this.
Gathering her courage, Danissa stepped onto the mound. Not stopping, she took another step, and then another, her heart clattering in her chest. Something clicked. She tried to get footing to jump, but a piece of rubble fell away, making her struggle for balance. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing this was her only chance to get clear.
No explosion.
“Oh thank the Holy Divine,” she breathed.
C’mon, Danissa. Almost there. You can do it.
She half slid down the other side of the pile and crashed into cabinets. Frantically, she pulled on the plastic handles one by one, only able to open each cabinet a fraction. Computer parts and hardware sat in neat piles, not affected by the blast. Moving on, she ripped open higher drawers. No medical supplies.
After continuing to all the other cabinets and drawers, she eyed the last, a cabinet door that was mostly blocked by the fallen ceiling. Exhaling loudly, she thought of where else medical supplies could be. Then shook her head. On her floor, they had been with all this stuff. All supplies, no matter what kind, were kept in the same places on each floor for efficiency so employees only needed to make one stop to stock up.
Maybe they’ve all been used . . .
“No, they’re here,” she answered her wandering thought aloud. They had to be, or else Puda was in real trouble.
Swallowing back a frantic sob, she kicked at the rubble, trying to clear a space in front of the remaining cabinet. She took to it with her hands, clawing and yanking, using all her strength. Finally able to pull the door open a fraction, she peered into the dark space.
Gritting her teeth, she reached in and pulled everything out so she could see what she was working with. Panting, she poked through her spoils and then cried in frustration.
Nothing.
Standing in desperation, she looked up with the intent to pray out loud. There, on the top of the cabinets, was a dented metal box emblazoned with a large red cross.
How stupid of her not to look up.
Struggling, she managed to get it down, knocking something else off the shelf with it. A round metal disc bounced off the counter and then lodged at the base of the debris.
It made a sound like a snap.
Her breath caught. A bomb!
“Shit!” She threw the Medi-Kit over the rubble and scrambled after it, a countdown ticking away in her mind. Panic flaring, she hit the ground and rolled to the side just in time.
The world lit up in sound and light. Heat trundled by, searing her, as flames coughed upward, shooting out of the small alcove. A piece of ceiling crashed down next to her head. The wall groaned.
Struggling up, now with a searing pain in her right thigh, she snatched the metal box and hobbled back the way she’d come. Another long-suffering groan from the building had her pushing harder. Since Moxidone was the world leader in large-scale weapons, leaving the market share of personal weapons to Gregon’s manufacturers, they had headed up the majority of the conglomerates’ combined retaliation. They’d struck this building and many others with a frantic bombardment, trying to eradicate Toton’s invading robots. After the fighting died down in each location, Moxidone had then gone through and seeded the evacuated and damaged buildings with delayed-trigger bombs. The idea was that any humans who happened through could get to safety, knowing what the click preceding an explosion meant. The robots would not “learn,” and hence would continue to trigger—and be blown up by—the hidden weapons. Fear had made the decision a no-brainer, but now, in the aftermath, the bombs were more detrimental than helpful.
Back at the office, she half kneeled and half fell to Puda’s side. “We’re going to get you fixed up in no time,” she said, opening the box. And sighing in relief. It was fully stocked. “Just hang on.”
Having no idea if Medi-Seal was okay for head injuries, she tried that first. It started to stitch his gash nearly immediately. So far, so good.
That done, she injected him with Cure-all, terrified it wouldn’t work. Stricken with fear that he would leave her.
With frantic breath, she waited. And waited.
The other countdown was running in her mind. The one that always seemed to start when she landed in a new location—and end when Toton’s robots showed up. The countdown shortened with every new venture. Toton always seemed to know where she was, and lately, each escape was a close call. Now, with no security, they were completely vulnerable.
Taking calming breaths to still her tremors, Danissa shot herself with some Cure-all. Wanting to make the best use of her time while Puda healed, she limped to the hologram machine. There she powered everything up and attempted to get some sort of image besides the accursed black-and-white static.
She bit her lip in concentration. There was obviously power, just no connection.
Another ten minutes went by as she checked the cables and stared at the wall, having no idea how to fix the hardware. One explosion or another must’ve taken out the rooted hard port.
Danissa started laughing as tears of defeat ran down her face. “Damn it. I’m so stupid.”
“Danissa?” Puda wheezed.
“Oh thank Holy. Thank you, Divine.” She rushed to Puda’s side. “Are you okay?”
“My head hurts really bad. What happened?”
“You have a head injury. But we have to go.”
“You aren’t stupid, love. You’re the smartest woman in the world.”
Danissa laughed, trying to summon determination. “I came here because I didn’t think Toton took out the connection. And maybe they haven’t, but it’s inaccessible.”
“Now what? Where do we go? I could use a little sleep.”
“No, you can’t sleep until you’re further healed.” She shook her head. “We need to find our—my—superiors. I have no idea what to do next. Where to go. Where I’m needed . . .”
“It’s okay. Shh.” Puda patted her hand lightly. “This will be fine. Don’t worry.”
She couldn’t help but smile. That’s exactly why Puda was mostly responsible for keeping her alive. He believed in her, without question, without reservation. He honestly believed that she could do anything she put her mind to.
So far, with the help of his faith, she had.
When would her luck run out?
“Let’s move on. We have to keep moving.” She tried to hoist up his dead weight. Her leg screamed in agony.
“Where are we going to go?” He struggled up and then wavered. “They’re looking for you. Shouldn’t we stay here and hide?”
Danissa held him upright and batted down another surge of hopelessness. Those types of emotions were invasive these days, and they weren’t doing any good. “They’re looking for all high-level staffers, not me specifically.”
Puda tilted his head in that way he did. He knew she was blowing smoke. It certainly did seem like Toton had a price tag on her head. And why wouldn’t they? She’d been the sole systems resistance for both Moxidone and Gregon. After learning what she could of Toton’s complex codes, she’d tweaked and manipulated them to section off some of the companies’ most sensitive information. Strangely, Toton seemed more interested in the conglomerates’ files on staffers, as well as information about food-processing plants and supplies, than they did in finances. Which meant the superiors in Gregon and Moxidone weren’t sure of Toton’s long-term goals.
It was hard to strategize a defense when you didn’t know what the offense was ultimately after.
“Okay, let’s get to another hard line. Or whatever.” Puda stepped forward tentatively. He put his hand to his head. “Is there a pain deadener in that box?”
She was already on it. She shot him with a dose and then dosed herself before packing up the rest. Together they moved through the door.
“Will you grab a couple guns for us?” Puda gestured to the crumpled guards. “We might need them, since . . .”
&n
bsp; “Sure.” Danissa snatched them up and stuffed them into her utility belt. When they started moving again, he staggered. “Maybe we should stay for a moment. Just until you’re a little more solid.”
“It’s okay. If we can get to the craft, I’ll be fine.”
They hobbled through the empty space together, sticking to the clear path. A strange, rhythmic thrush sounded in front of them, a ways off to the left. A fizz from a wire in the ceiling made Danissa jump.
“It’s okay,” Puda said through heavy breathing. “That was nothing.”
“You should be in the secured levels. Not in danger because of me. This isn’t your job.”
“It’s not your job, either, baby,” he whispered with his eyes closed, his voice pained. “You should be in the secured levels with all your people, fighting this on a console. You aren’t security. You weren’t trained for this.”
“I was in the secured levels, remember?” She stopped him and looked into his dilated eyes. “Do you remember?” She squeezed his upper arms. “Are you with me, Puda? Should we stop?”
“What’s that?” He blinked rapidly. “Oh yes, that’s right. The secured places. And they cut the intranet again.”
She sighed in relief and resumed walking. “Exactly.”
Time sped by as they slowly progressed. They’d been in the building for too long. Toton was bound to show up any minute.
She stopped as they neared the stairs. They were safe—they’d walked down these same stairs to get to this floor. But there was no way to get Puda up the steps. He could barely walk in a straight line on flat ground, and he was too heavy to carry.
She ground her teeth as she swiveled toward the elevator. It worked as often as it didn’t, and while Moxidone didn’t rig anything to blow the breaks, occasionally Toton took control. Sometimes people went into the elevators and never came back out. The doors would open but no one was home.
That was before the heavy artillery started, though. Years ago. And it was in the lower, less defensive levels. They should be fine.
Not like they had a choice.
Taking what must’ve been her hundredth deep breath, she led Puda to the metal doors and then gingerly pushed the button. The light blinked on. The elevator started to whirl.
“It’s running, at any rate,” she muttered, eyeing the still-flickering lights behind them.
“Can’t we just use the pirate network?” Puda’s words were slightly slurred.
“No, I can’t get into the pirate network, remember? I haven’t had the time to break through the ironclad firewall that Ms. Foster has devised from Holy knows where. I can only do so much.”
The doors shuddered open. Danissa pointed the gun, ready to fire. Emptiness greeted them.
“Here we go,” she said softly, helping him along.
“My legs feel a bit weak,” he said, draping his arms around her neck. “We’re almost there, though. I can make it.”
The wispiness of his voice made her heart ache in fear. He was barely hanging on. There was no reason he should be so optimistic. In fact, he should be blaming her.
“Here we go,” she said again, clicking the button to their floor.
The doors shuddered closed. A soft whine filled the space, competing with Puda’s haggard breathing. Ninety-one. The lift jolted as it came to a stop.
Her mental alarm was screeching at her to get moving. To run! It had been way too long.
“Almost there now,” she said quietly as she supported most of his weight out of the elevator. “We just need to go as fast as we can, okay?”
They staggered through the empty space of the floor, staying on the cleared path devoid of hidden explosives. The legs of an overturned chair jutted into their walkway.
She hooked her shoulder more firmly in Puda’s armpit to better navigate his weight around the obstacle.
“Someone fell over?” he asked lethargically.
“Are you tired?” She squeezed her arms around his waist. “Because you sound tired . . . Or do you need more Cure-all? I think we have more . . .”
Tendrils of fear curled up her spine as time ticked by.
“I hope they didn’t bump their head when they fell like I did.” Puda coughed. “My toes are numb, love. I don’t think that is good.”
“It’s just blood loss.” She hoisted him up a little higher, trying to move as fast as possible. He was staggering freely now, leaning heavily on her. The mental countdown clicked to zero. Her mind silenced. Her heart hammered. “I think there is something to help that . . .” Movement registered out of the corner of her eye. Her mind zipped back to the chair, and then to the memory of what this path had looked like when they’d first come through.
The fallen chair hadn’t been there. It was recent. They weren’t alone!
“Run!” she screamed, trying to pick up the pace. “Hurry!”
A machine that looked like a spider, half the size of a human, skittered out from the side on ten legs. Three blunt claws at the end of each leg lightly ticked as they hit the hard floor. Its body was metallic and its face looked like a data port. Another crawled out from the other side. Up ahead, something dropped down from the ceiling.
“Oh no,” she said as she dragged Puda along. Her implant started to hum. Soon her head would throb. After that, her defenses would surely fail. “C’mon, Puda. Please. We have to hurry.”
Each step took too long. His hands, nearly limp, fell away.
“No, Puda. Please, hang on. One sprint and we’ll make it.”
“No, love,” he wheezed. His eyes were hooded. “No we won’t. I can hear your resignation.”
The elevator dinged behind them. Accompanying the sound of doors opening was the thrushing from before, only louder now.
Heart in her throat, Danissa dragged Puda for all she was worth as the robotic spiders advanced on them. Adrenaline pushing her on, she lugged him along, ready to fight but having no idea how. Not without a console.
Puda stopped trying to run with her.
“No! Are you trying to kill us both?” She heaved, glancing behind them.
Horror punched her.
The newest robotic creature had four sturdy legs and a robust body. Like a barrel-chested human mixed with a cockroach, it crawled along, slower than its spider counterparts. Along its plated back sat three shiny metal spheres.
“What the hell is that thing?” she asked, trying to pull Puda.
“No.” Puda fought her.
“What are you doing?”
“Run, baby.” Puda ripped away and crumpled to his knees. He weakly snatched a gun from her suit’s utility belt. “Run.”
The spiders advanced, slowing now. She’d had enough narrow escapes in the past to recognize their strategy. The spiders would try to surround their prey, and then they’d come all at once. Danissa knew where to shoot, though. The vulnerable spot to kick.
She just didn’t know if she could hit either place. She had no practical experience—the security staffers had always defended them.
“Run, love.” Puda opened fire, his shots going everywhere. One hit the thrushing robot as it walked toward them. The bullet had no impact.
“No!” She snatched at his suit. “Crawl, Puda. Crawl out and I’ll cover us.”
“I don’t have much left, Danissa. I love you. Thank you for forcing them to let me be with you all these years. Now run, please. I can’t bear thinking you won’t make it.” He sagged. His arm wavered. “Hurry. I’m so tired.”
Breathing raggedly, panic nearly blinding her, Danissa ran at the closest spider and kicked as hard as she could. Her steel-reinforced boot toe hit the metal undercarriage.
Dunk.
The robot shivered, then staggered like a ten-legged drunk. She kicked again, harder, trying to hit that one vulnerable spot that would make it fold up.
Another spider dashed forward and slashed with one of its legs. A shock of pain announced a tear in her skin. She cried out before grabbing her gun, pointing down at the robot,
and squeezing the trigger. A bullet tore through its makeshift face. A tendril of smoke curled up from the hole as the other spider rushed in again.
A hoarse scream made her whirl toward Puda. The third spider slashed at him for what must’ve been the second time, getting his side. He twisted, giving the spider access to his neck. The spider moved in.
She squeezed the trigger before she’d even known she’d aimed her gun. The bullet hit the spider’s body and sent it skittering away. The thrushing robot still advanced slowly, closing the distance.
Danissa spun and kicked in one fluid motion, surprising herself with her ability. Her boot hit the undercarriage of the nearest spider. A buzz announced the puncture, followed by a strange whine, almost like a robotic death scream, as it curled up. Its legs folded and it dropped to the ground like a stone. Two faint green lights on the disgusting makeshift face flickered and went out.
She’d never noticed those lights before.
Another slash had her grunting and stumbling. Puda screamed again. He fell to his side as the spider behind her readied a jab to his ribs.
“No!” She kicked the nearest robot before marching at Puda’s assailant like a woman possessed, firing repeatedly. The bullets hit, her aim true, punching holes along the top and side. Tiny sparks lit up and spread out over the bulbous body before it sank to the ground and curled up with a whine.
Not wasting any time, she turned back to the final spider. It stared at her. Watching.
“I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit,” she said through clenched teeth as she walked toward it slowly, ready for it to strike.
It waited. Seemingly patient.
Why, she wondered. What was the strategy it had been programmed with?
A glance back, and confusion stole over her again. The thrushing robot had stopped advancing. It was waiting, too.
For what?
A surge of expectation filled her.
Reinforcements. It must be. They had access to their intranet. She didn’t. They could call for help. She couldn’t. They had all the time in the world.
Or so they thought.
She ran forward, squeezing the trigger repeatedly, pummeling the last spider with three bullets. To her amazement, her aim was true. The robot tried to retreat, but its legs weren’t working properly and it veered sideways. She was on it in a flash, beating down on its top with the grip of the gun and then stepping back so she could kick. And kick again. The thing crumpled, not able to get away.