Distinct

by Hamill, Ike

  “We could dig a big pit and try to get them all in it.”

  With no experience in using an excavator, let alone trying to lure coyote-things into a pit, Robby could imagine how that would go.

  “I think we’re going to be limited to tearing things down,” Robby said. “That’s the best I could manage with this thing.”

  An idea started to form.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  The deck looked out over the park, but the stairs went down the side of the building and ended up outside of the gate. At least they did before Robby got at them. He reached the bucket of the excavator and managed to grab the staircase with one of the metal tines. Turning the whole machine, he generated enough torque to rip the stairs from their foundation and tear them away from the deck. He did some damage to the building, and broke part of the park wall, but he thought both would hold up long enough for him to finish his plan.

  The deck was little higher off the ground than the top of the excavator.

  Robby untied his shoelace and cut it in half. He used one half to re-tie his shoe and the other he formed into a noose with a slipknot.

  On the periphery of the lights, he saw the coyote-things looking at him.

  Robby maneuvered the excavator so the roof was as close to the deck as he could get it. The tracks were dangerously close to the supports of the deck, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  “Now, the dangerous part,” he said. “If something happens to me, see if they’ll let you join the pack.”

  The back window of the excavator opened up on hinges. He unbuckled the latch and pushed it open enough so he could reach down for the gas tank. To get to the bottom buckle, Robby was hanging halfway through the window. Over the idle of the excavator, he could hear the coyote-things pacing and signaling each other with low yips. The bottom buckle gave and the tank slipped a few inches. Grunting and pulling, Robby lifted it up. At that awkward angle, it was almost too heavy to pull.

  Robby made room for it on the floor and latched the window.

  One of the coyote-things had grown bold. It put its feet up on the right-hand tracks and sniffed upwards.

  Robby jerked back the control for that track and the coyote-thing lost its footing. It yipped and fell, rolling before it found its feet and ran off.

  Robby smiled until he heard the crack of wood. The machine’s other track had strayed into one of the deck’s support posts. Robby corrected, but the damage was done.

  “I think its fine. Okay—fuel first, then us. If I can’t get the fuel up there, what’s the point?”

  He manipulated the controls, swinging the boom arm without rotating the cab. It only went so far. Curling the bucket under and bringing it as close as it would reach, it was still a good six feet away from the cab.

  “That might be too far.”

  He switched places with the dog and opened the window.

  Robby made sure the cap was screwed on tight and hugged the can to his chest.

  “Good luck, friend,” he said to it.

  He swung it three times before he let it go. The can flipped in the air, hitting the excavator’s bucket upside down. It banged off the side and then tumbled to the ground.

  “Shit.”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  Twenty minutes of fumbling and Robby was still no closer to getting the can into the bucket. Every muscle was tensed and he was beginning to cramp in his shoulders. The best he could do was get one of the tines under the can and flip it over.

  The worst part was when he tried to dig a hole next to it. His hand slipped on the controls and he dented the side of the fuel can. Robby used his flashlight and watched the thing for a full minute, waiting to see the precious fluid leaking from the dented metal.

  “I think it’s okay,” he whispered.

  The coyote-things were getting frustrated too.

  One jumped up on the tread and then put his paws against the glass. Gordie barked and it ran away. Robby wiped sweat from his forehead and tried to concentrate.

  He brought the bucket in from the side and got three of the thick tines under the fuel can.

  “Does pushing the right stick to the left curl it up or down?” he asked Gordie. He had been manipulating the sticks for so long that he couldn’t properly remember. He sighed and massaged his wrist. The idea of failing again was too terrifying. Under the stick, on a plate mounted to the wall, Robby saw some words under the dust and dirt. He reached down carefully, like an archeologist who didn’t want to disturb the site of a rare fossil, and he wiped away the dirt from the panel.

  The instructions weren’t in English.

  “Are you kidding?”

  Still, from the diagram’s arrows, he was able to puzzle out how to curl the bucket. He nudged the stick and the can slipped into the bucket.

  Robby exhaled.

  His relief only lasted a moment. One of the coyote-things jumped up, putting its paws on the window again. Gordie barked and his foot hit the stick. The boom swayed and the fuel can tipped. Robby’s hand shot out and correct the swing before the can could tumble from the bucket.

  The coyote-thing jumped down.

  The bray of laughter that came out of Robby sounded insane, even to his own ears. The young man hunched over and wrapped his hands around the back of his neck, rocking quickly in the excavator’s seat. Gordie sniffed at him, but Robby continued to laugh.

  “This is nuts, Gordo, nuts! What are we doing?”

  Gordie didn’t respond.

  “Did you see that thing?”

  Robby was interrupted by a hiccup. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried to gain control of himself.

  “I mean, it wasn’t even the same as before. The ears were shorter and there was no star pattern to the eyes. Those instructions—what language is that? I thought we were back to our reality, but this clearly isn’t the world that I grew up in.”

  He realized that he was screaming, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “Why is this happening?”

  Robby clamped both hands over his mouth and forced himself to breathe. This was a crisis, sure, but he had withstood those before. He had to be like his father, or like Gordie for that matter.

  His father’s slow fuse had been easy to light but even easier to extinguish. It was almost like he would sense himself ramping up and then simply flip a switch. Robby needed that skill now.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  In the past, he had carried around a mirror that he had stolen from the visor of a Volvo. The mirror seemed to contain his father’s eyes. The mirror had gone missing at some point and Robby decided that he didn’t need it anymore. As the excavator engine rumbled beneath him, he was beginning to rethink that decision.

  One step.

  Robby could almost hear his father’s voice in his head.

  One step.

  When overwhelmed, all he had to do was one step—the next step. He opened his eyes again. Coyote-things were looking through two of the windows. Gordie wasn’t even barking at them anymore. They were just another part of life now.

  “At least they look more normal now.”

  His hands worked the controls, carefully curling the bucket under while he raised the boom. It looked like it would be just tall enough to get the can over the railing to the deck. When he pivoted the boom, the coyote-things jumped down from the machine again. They were more bold every second, but they were still a little skittish.

  With the bucket up over the railing, he lowered it and tipped the can to the deck.

  “Okay. Now we just put this back down and get ready.”

  He looked at the dog.

  “You ready?”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  “If they’re as smart as I think they are, this could work.”

  The excavator sat about twenty feet from the deck. The tracks were lined up perfectly.

  After unscrewing the wire from the charging posts, Robby cut the other end, where it went out the do
or. He had about ten feet of wire that used to belong to the solar charger on the roof. He stripped the ends of the wire and separated them.

  One of the coyote-things jumped up on his left and started to chew at the window gasket.

  In the pocket of his backpack, Robby kept jerky strips. Gordie loved them. When he was desperate, Robby liked them too. He could only hope that one of the coyote-things would like to give them a try.

  He used his knife to make a couple of holes in the jerky. Through those, he pushed the exposed wire.

  Gordie was drooling.

  “You can’t have it. I’ll give you two later. We just have to hope that the resistance of this is high enough that it doesn’t cook.”

  He touched the other ends of the wires to the charging poles. The voltmeter on the dash dropped a little, but not too much. Robby pushed the throttle up a bit to compensate.

  “I think we’re good. Once they run, we have to move fast. We only get one shot at this.”

  Gordie looked at Robby very seriously. He seemed to completely understand. Then, when he licked his lips, Robby realized that he was only interested in the jerky.

  “You touch this, it’s going to hurt.”

  The wires were starting to heat up in Robby’s hand. The jerky was conducting a little too well.

  “Okay.”

  Robby pulled the shoelace noose tight and the excavator began its slow crawl forward. The coyote-thing didn’t jump down. They had learned where to perch with their hind legs so that they could ride along and keep chewing at the window gasket. One of them had already torn off a chunk and run off with it. There was a different one on there now, trying to find his own prize. Robby had a treat for him.

  He cracked open the wing window. The coyote-thing’s rounded nose appeared instantly, trying to bite the glass. Its attention was drawn immediately to the piece of jerky as Robby began to feed it through the top of the triangular window.

  The excavator keep inching forward.

  Another coyote-thing jumped up to the other window. That was the window they were going to escape through. Robby hoped the coyote-things were good at communicating pain.

  After sniffing it for a fraction of a second, the coyote-thing grabbed the jerky and pulled. The wire slipped right through Robby’s hands. The animal was only making contact with one lead, and it was the negative.

  Robby felt his stomach drop.

  He had failed. His first thought had been to just attach the jerky to the positive wire. That would have sent the current through the entire body of the coyote-thing because its paws were grounded to the chassis. He had rejected that idea—it might only jolt the animal. He wanted to hurt it.

  When the coyote-thing pulled again, Robby was ready. He held the wire tight and the coyote-thing adjusted its grip, snatching more of the jerky into its mouth.

  The wires made contact with the beast’s drooling lips.

  With a bright flash, the POP was loud. The coyote-thing sprang backwards, flying through the air to get away from the pain. It was shrieking even before it hit the ground. Robby jerked the wires from the posts, but he was too late. The short had sent the engine into arrhythmia. As the cab bucked, he pulled the throttle back, hoping to let the idle even out again.

  The machine stalled.

  The lights were still on—a great sign that the battery wasn’t drained.

  Robby cranked the ignition. The injured coyote-thing was still crying. It had run beyond the reach of the lights.

  As the excavator came back to life, the lights swelled back to full power. There were no coyote-things in sight, for now. Robby tightened his shoelace noose and they were moving again.

  “Ready?”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  Getting Gordie up on top of the excavator was easier than he had hoped. The dog clawed at the door frame as Robby pushed. But he couldn’t convince Gordie to jump to the deck, and Robby refused to go first. The excavator was still moving. Their window to leap was closing fast.

  “I’ll pick you up and throw you if I have to,” Robby said. His adrenaline was pumping—he felt like he almost could.

  “I’m going to leave you!”

  Robby started to step around Gordie. He didn’t mean it, but the threat worked. Gordie bounded forward and jumped. His back legs hit the railing, and his spill to the deck was about as graceful as a newborn calf.

  Robby jumped after him.

  The excavator rolled on. Its path would take it right into the landscaping next to the building. Robby hoped that the burm would veer it away before it crashed through the back doors of the visitor’s center.

  Gordie growled and then barked.

  Robby turned just in time to see it. One of the coyote-things had found its way to the roof of the excavator and was gathering itself for the jump.

  Robby had underestimated their resolve.

  CHAPTER 37: NEW YORK CITY

  WHEN SHE PRESSED THE blade forward, Frank howled. He felt a warm line of blood roll down his back.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Frank said.

  “Looks like you’re trying to abduct my dog.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  She pressed harder when Frank tried to pull away. The tip was piercing through the muscle in his back and actually poking into one of his ribs. He reached for his gun. She twisted the blade and he howled again.

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” Frank said.

  She responded with a cold laugh.

  “First, you’re going to drop the leash.”

  He did. The dog didn’t care. He was still eating the canned ham. Frank glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was standing at the other end of a long sword. In the moonlight, it looked like one of those fake samurai swords they used to sell at the mall, but it was sharp enough that it might be real.

  “Now unbuckle your holster and let the gun drop.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Do it,” she said with another jab.

  “I can’t. It’s part of my belt. If it comes down, so do my pants.”

  “Do I sound like I care?”

  …it will hurt, but just for a moment…

  Frank remembered a conversation that had never taken place. The Origin had explained about all of this. He had told Frank about the sword, the dog, the girl, and how she would press it into his back. She didn’t want to press it into his back. She made a big show of being tough, but that was only because she wasn’t really tough enough to really do anything. She relied on scare tactics. All Frank had to do was really stand up to her, and then he could get the dog. With the dog, he could get the kid. With the kid…

  “Did you go deaf?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She drove the blade forward.

  The Origin was right, it did hurt.

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  Frank spun, knowing the movement would cut through even more of his muscle. He had pictured it very carefully first. If he spun clockwise, he could hit the rounded back of the blade and suffer a little less injury in the process. Surprised and angered, the girl would drive forward again, and Frank would have her.

  It worked perfectly, except for one thing. He had underestimated the searing pain. A pain like that short-circuited his nervous system. The body had built-in defenses meant to protect a person from that kind of injury, and they kicked in.

  The strength drained from Frank’s legs. His knees buckled halfway through the maneuver. He landed on the pavement, bending his wrist back and preventing him from grabbing the gun from his holster.

  She regained her composure and drove the sword towards his chest.

  Frank rolled away from the jab. His hand was free. It found the gun and he raised it unsteadily.

  “Corinna, don’t make me hurt you,” he said.

  He didn’t want to kill her. The Origin had only said that she might have to go.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “He told me.”

  Frank meant The Origin, of c
ourse, but she couldn’t know that. Recognition flashed across her face. He didn’t know what it meant, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t use it.

  “He told me to come here and save you.”

  ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

  “Then how about you stop pointing that gun at me?”

  “You’re still holding the sword you used to tear me open. You expect me to lower my gun?” he asked.

  With one smooth motion, she wiped the blade on her sleeve and slipped it back into its sheath. She tossed both off into the dark.

  “You’re still pointing the gun.”

  “Start walking.”

  Frank got up slowly, keeping the weapon trained on her as he grabbed the leash and made it to his unsteady feet.

  “Get going,” he said, pointing at her emphatically with the gun.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. You can go ahead and shoot me, if that’s what you intend to do,” Corinna said.

  Franks eyes slid halfway shut as he exhaled. He was trying to think—what would The Origin say? It was impossible to guess. Frank needed information to use as leverage. It wasn’t coming. Maybe The Origin had told Frank that the girl might have to go because even he didn’t have information on her.

  The leverage broke through Frank’s cloudy mind like a shaft of light.

  He swung the gun to point down at the dog.

  “I won’t shoot you. I’m going to shoot poor Prince, who never hurt a soul. You’re going to stay alive to explain it to the boy.”

  The emotions battled in her face. It was obvious, even just by moonlight.

  “I just need him to talk with my boss. That’s all. I give you my word that I won’t hurt any of you if the boy talks with my boss.”

  First, he had trapped her. Now, he had shown her the way out. He didn’t say a word while she convinced herself that everything could still be okay.