by D. B. Goodin
Alfred!
Alice held her head down, bracing for another impact. She heard Alfred hiss and cry in protest in response to the commotion. It relieved Alice that her cat was alive.
“What’s happening? Why are we still alive?” Alice said.
“Nigel Watson upgraded the visor to the latest tech alright. That means you now have advanced shielding technology protection. It’s about time you got some recent tech, don’t you think?” Doris said.
Alice wanted to grab Alfred and run, but the old woman was blocking her path. Alice kicked the old woman, who didn’t budge; it felt like she was kicking a wall. The woman dropped the blaster and shed the coat. Alice noticed the woman wasn’t old at all. She couldn’t tell how old she was. Alice saw the handle of something behind the woman, who reached for it in a blur of motion; a moment later she wielded a giant blue sword. She held in place for dramatic effect before thrashing it at Alice, trying to land a blow. It was hard for Alice to fight back, since the woman was just a few feet away, and she had no place to run or hide. Alice felt a burning sensation as the blade bit into her arm.
“Aargh!” Alice cried.
The woman stood up in the aisle, then held the blade up with both hands, and plunged it toward Alice. Alice closed her eyes, hoping for a quick release.
Train Platform, New Chicago
Ten minutes earlier
“Something’s not right. The girl is in trouble,” Bob said, watching the train depart.
“What makes you so sure?” Jack said.
“I just have . . . that feeling. I’m going to check it out.”
“I don’t care what happens to that bitch,” Jack said.
“You are one cold bastard.”
Bob put on his AR glasses. He didn’t enjoy wearing them, but his smartwatch was limited, and couldn’t activate the implants. He double blinked to activate the uplink to the Marshals’ central AI.
“How can I help you, sir?” said Horace, Bob’s AI.
“Need to find Alice Parsons—can you get a twenty on her?”
“Affirmative, I have plotted a course, but try to keep your clothes on this time,” Horace said.
Bob started running toward the moving train. He pulled his pinky finger as if he were trying to crack the knuckle and let the speed come. He hated his cybernetic implants, but they were standard issue for the Marshals. It was hard to tell how fast he was running, but people on the platform looked like blurs. He leapt onto the train tracks. The train was at least a few hundred feet ahead. He ran faster. It felt like a trot to Bob, but it was much faster. He remembered the lab technician telling him that his cybernetic leg implants, which controlled his muscle enhancers, could outrun a sports car. Seconds later, he was climbing the maintenance ladder on the back car of the train. To his surprise, his clothes were frayed from the speed run, but still intact; the first time he had used these cybernetics, it had ripped his suit off his back.
Bob whooshed through the narrow train aisles like he was riding a rollercoaster; Horace’s guidance system kept him from getting into accidents. He nearly tripped over the dead conductor in the first carriage he entered. Bob noticed many people crouching down or curled up in fear in the seats closest to Alice. He stopped behind a woman who was pointing a sword at Alice. Bob recognized the sword. The woman looked too small to handle it, but she wielded it like a samurai. He grabbed at the sword and attempted to wrestle it from the woman. Her grip was like a vice.
Then he remembered his special device. With the agility of a cheetah, he found the small handheld electro-device he used as a backup weapon; it was black and about the size of a deck of cards. He jammed it into the old woman’s back, then squeezed on both sides. The woman screamed as thousands of volts of energy coursed through her. A widening scorch mark was growing on her back. The woman convulsed and, despite being incapacitated, turned, and faced Marshal Bob. She smiled as her captivating blue eyes turned red. The skin near her hairline ripped open and began peeling back. It was a gruesome sight.
She’s a cyborg! Bob thought with alarm. No . . . a Cyber Hunter . . .
Bob remembered his US Marshal training well. Besides the usual physical training for law enforcement officers, US Marshals arrest and transport deadly criminals; therefore, they received additional hand-to-hand combat training. In 2055, the US Marshals training was expanded to include defensive maneuvers against the special abilities of assassins known as the Cyber Hunters. These hunters were cyborgs capable of taking vast amounts of damage; some of them were self-repairing and could heal grievous wounds. The newer models could heal in less than an hour.
He remembered one of his instructors telling him that the cyborg’s core was susceptible to breaking down over time and emitting radiation. He also mentioned that the cyborgs were also immune to radiation, which made them ideal for finding targets hiding in the wasteland.
“I know what you’re thinking. How can this beautiful woman take so much punishment from the bad-assed US Marshal?” the woman mocked.
“I think we have different definitions of beautiful,” Bob said as he readied his electro-device.
Bob’s eyes gravitated to her grotesque head; she appeared to be an older model. Her hair was matted and pink. Several clumps of hair were missing, revealing patches of dark gray metal that resembled the barrel of an old pistol.
“Radiation levels rising . . . exposure at 38mSv per hour. Try to limit your exposure to the Cyber Hunter if possible. To give you a frame of reference, it is the equivalent to 380 chest X-rays per hour,” Horace said.
Bob lost his footing as the train sped up, but then recovered. He jammed the device into the cyborg’s neck, and his hand shook as the electricity shot through her. The cyborg shook it off and then grabbed Bob by the neck and raised him off the ground. The cyborg shifted enough during the fight so that Alice had just enough room to get around her. She charged and rammed her shoulder into the cyborg as hard as she could, applying just enough force to unbalance her and drop Bob.
Alfred was going crazy under the seat; Alice heard him hissing and screeching. She glanced down to see his carrier rocking side to size and noticed a paw waving outside the bars of the carrier. The cyborg turned its attention to Alfred, and then plunged the sword toward the carrier.
“No!” Alice screamed.
A high-pitched sound emanated from behind the cyborg.
“Alice—down!” Bob said.
Alice crouched between the seats, covering her head. She saw a bright red light, then something hit her in the back. She looked up. The cyborg was on her, and she was heavy. Moments later, Bob pulled the cyborg off Alice; she noticed that Bob’s left hand was missing, revealing the barrel of some kind of blaster.
“Are you okay?” Bob said.
“Yes, thanks for saving my ass—look out!”
Bob turned to see another woman heading in Bob’s direction. She appeared to be in better physical shape and more agile than the first cyborg; except for the purple hair, this cyborg looked almost identical. The woman seemed to be flying as she propelled herself across ten rows of seats. She fired another blaster in Bob’s direction. A blue shield surrounded Bob. Alice noticed it was more advanced than hers.
Everything slowed. Alice saw the spread of the blast reflect from Bob’s shield and was heading in her direction.
“Doris, I need that shield up—now!” Alice said.
No response.
Alice tried dropping to the floor, but the other cyborg’s corpse was jammed between the seats. She felt hot, searing pain across her back, neck, and arms. It felt like someone was sticking her with several hot pokers all at once.
She screamed, just before passing out. She saw the red glow of plasma pour out of the older man’s arm. The plasma enveloped the Cyber Hunter. She could see her purple hair burning in the red glow.
Alice awoke to the sound of screams; people were in a lot of pain from the sound of it. The top portion of the train, just above her head, was missing. The train slowed bu
t was still moving. Bob was pulling the cyborg off of Alice, and he tossed it across an empty row of seats.
“You’re safe now—both bots are out of commission. For now, anyway,” Bob said.
“They look dead to me,” Alice replied.
Alice looked around. There were clusters of people hunched over in their seats several rows from the battle.
“We need to get off this train,” Bob said as he pulled at an emergency stop lever.
The train rocked as the brakes engaged. It slowed but didn’t stop. He pulled again, but the lever was stuck.
“There’s something wrong with the breaks. Come with me,” Bob said, holding out a hand.
Alice was halfway out of the carriage before she remembered Alfred.
“Alfred! I need to get my cat!” Alice said.
“No time!”
Bob pulled her out of the carriage and onto a small platform. Alice hit him as she screamed, “Alfred!”
Alice kicked Bob, who released her. She ran back inside the carriage to get Alfred. She froze when she saw the pink-haired cyborg lift herself up. Alice ducked, then crawled back to Bob.
“She’s awake!” she hissed.
“I’m not surprised—she’s a Cyber Hunter who has self-healing properties,” Bob said.
Alice looked back inside.
“We will go back for your cat, I promise,” Bob said.
Alice’s vison blurred as tears stung her eyes. The train continued to slow as Bob escorted Alice to the rear; they leaped off.
Moments later, Alice followed Bob to an outcropping of trees and bushes nearby. The train squealed as it came to a final stop.
“Looks like the brakes finally seized,” Bob said.
She could see the train about two hundred feet in the distance; screams from the other passengers echoed down the tracks.
Her and Bob appeared to be in a remote area; Alice could see farms in the distance.
“What now?” Alice asked.
“We wait until backup arrives. I called for them before we left the train.”
A loud smashing sound came from the train down the tracks. Alice could see several people being thrown through glass windows. The smashing stopped when a flying car with the words “Regional Police” on the doors landed just behind the train. The pair of cyborgs appeared at the back of the train and leapt onto the vehicle. The pink-haired cyborg opened fire in the passenger side of the vehicle; it melted the glass. The cyborg kept shooting. The return shots from the police deflected off the cyborgs. The cop on the driver’s side exited the vehicle and shot at the pink-haired cyborg. Her cyborg companion sneaked up and plunged a sword through the man’s chest.
“They are using the wrong weapons. Only plasma blasters work on Cyber Hunters—not energy weapons,” Bob spat.
He then tried using his AI to call for Jack, but before he could, the Cyber Hunters commandeered the flying car and were gone.
“Now, let’s get your cat,” Bob said.
7
Somewhere in Tennessee
3 days later
Alice awoke to a beautiful sunrise. She finished her breakfast in the dining area of the super-sized semi-truck that was carrying her toward Nashville.
What a hell of a ride, Alice thought, recalling the last few days.
Alice was thankful that Alfred was still alive. The Cyber Hunters were merciless and spared no one who got in their way. Bob took her to a local hospital to treat the many second-degree burns. She felt lucky to be alive.
She didn’t even want to look at another train after her near-death experience, so Bob had arranged passage on the trailer of a special semi-truck. Bob assured Alice it was safer than the original bus ride she had planned to take. The transportation company designed it to be a luxurious tourist attraction that offered limited service from New Chicago to Nashville. Alice had seen nothing like it. The semi-truck carried three interconnected trailers. Each trailer had seats, a dining car, and a theater. Alice sat in the theater near the small stage, which was just large enough for two performers with instruments. Alfred nestled in her lap; she had almost forgotten how much she had enjoyed the sound of his purring.
It’s good to feel safe again—even if it’s just for a moment.
A small, skinny man with rotten teeth took the stage. He was wearing a white suit with silver trim and a matching cowboy hat. Alice couldn’t swallow; she got a lump in her throat just by looking at the man.
Why is he wearing . . . white?
Alice closed her eyes. She saw images of Officer Jones—the guard from her white prison—dressed in white. Jones was bleeding from several cuts on her face, which turned her white clothes red.
Gradually, these images faded. Alice controlled her breathing for several moments. Soon, she opened her eyes. She felt better.
“We will be in Nashville in less than two hours. I know y’all are ready to get to Music City, but I have a special treat for you. I give you Molly and Benny, who will perform their song ‘Islands,’ released eighty-eight years ago today,” the announcer said.
Benny fetched his guitar from a nearby stand, noticed Alice and winked.
They are in good shape for people more than a hundred years old. How is that possible?
Everyone in the dining trailer stood up and applauded; an old man seated across from Alice had an especially ecstatic reaction. He took off his cowboy hat and flung it into the air, and it flew into Alice’s face on its descent.
A woman with blond curly hair and a man with a salt-and-pepper beard entered the stage. He picked up a guitar, made some tuning adjustments, and played.
At least they are not wearing white.
Benny started the song; the lyrics were all about finding his true love. It had a wholesome country quality that Alice wasn’t familiar with. Molly joined Benny in the lovely duet after a few bars; Alice thought the lyrics were nice. She hadn’t heard the tune before, but she felt a resonance unlike a lot of other music she’d listened to. Perhaps it was the loving energy between the duet, but Alice took an instant liking to the song. The couple sang about the reliance on each other’s love. The lovers looked into each other’s eyes as the song continued. For the first time, Alice thought about what it would be like if she had someone special in her life.
I’m glad I’m starting a new journey. Perhaps a clean break is what I need.
Alice fell asleep listening to the lover’s tale of sailing away into happiness.
The semi-truck rolled through towns that had long been abandoned. The burned remains of buildings loomed as the truck passed through the ever-changing desolate landscape.
A Favor
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Thank you.
D. B. Goodin
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Acknowledgments
Developmental and Copy Editing by Hayley Evans
Proofreading by Beth Dorward
Cover Design by 100 Covers
About the Author
D. B. Goodin has had a passion for writing since grade school. After publishing several non-fiction books, Mr. Goodin ventured into the craft of fiction to teach Cybersecurity concepts in a less intimidating fashion. Mr. Goodin works as a Principal Cybersecurity Analyst for a major software company based in Silicon Valley and holds a Masters in Digital Forensic Science from Champlain College.
Also by D. B. Goodin
Cyber Overture
Sonorous
Chromatic
Resonance
Ensemble
Ramble
Cyber Teen Project
Whit
e Hat Black Heart
War With Black Iris
The Making of Cyber Teen Project
Reckoning of Delta Prime (Summer 2021)
Interstellar Online
Blast Off
Cassidy’s Fleet (Fall 2021)
Cyber Hunter Origins
Synapse of Ash
Echoes of Silence
Catalyst of Pain (Fall 2021)
