by Steve Cole
“No!” Zed rumbled. “Not. Fight.”
“Zed, get away from that thing!” Adam shouted helplessly.
“Good advice.” Bateman smirked. “Where’s he going to go?”
“Kill your opponent, Z. rex,” Hayden instructed. “If you don’t, it shall kill you. And then it will kill your friend Adam.”
“Ad . . . am?” Zed growled as the Y. rex took a threatening step toward it.
“Y’s testosterone levels are increasing too fast,” Josephs reported. “There’s a lot of adrenaline. Bring it down, Bill.”
Adam’s dad was typing frantically. “I’m telling its brain to produce more stress inhibitors.”
“Don’t calm it too much,” called Hayden.
“Zed, it’s gonna be distracted in a few seconds!” Adam yelled desperately. “If you hit him hard enough—”
Hayden nodded at Bateman, who quickly struck Adam across the temple with the back of his fat hand. Adam cried out, the force knocking him to the floor as Zed bellowed in anger. He saw his dad rise angrily in protest, but Hayden stabbed out with his finger. “Sit down, Bill,” he thundered. “Do your job—or I’ll let Bateman really go to town on him.”
Adam lay curled up on his knees, pretending to be hurt worse than he was, reaching with some difficulty for the dart in his pocket. If Bateman came at him again . . .
But the big man was back watching the screens, as was Hayden. Josephs and Mr. Adlar were poised at their stations as if playing some sick multiplayer video game. Adam was forgotten already.
“Implement attack strategy seven,” called Josephs.
Another roar boomed over the flat screens. The Y. rex aimed a slicing blow at Zed’s head. Zed ducked aside—but as he did so, Y turned and lashed out its tail, just as Zed had done to Sedona back in New Mexico. The thick, powerful tip caught Zed under the chin, smashing his head back. He staggered and fell to the ground with a rasping croak, and the Y. rex howled exultantly.
“Attack strategy seven successful,” Mr. Adlar called back in a flat monotone.
“Get up,” whispered Adam, glued to the screen. “Please, get up.”
Zed tried to rise, but his mirror image lashed out with its fist, smashing him in the jaw. Blood and teeth spat from Zed’s mouth, an explosion of crimson and ivory. Adam’s guts twisted as the Y. rex howled again, teeth quivering, eyes narrowed to slits.
The creature pounced, and Zed went down beneath the mountain of scaly, sinewy flesh. All four screens erupted in a dark green frenzy of tangled limbs and gleaming claws.
“Come on!” Bateman sounded like he was cheering on a boxer in a prize bout. “Stuff it to him!”
“I still don’t like those adrenaline levels.” Josephs frowned at her screen. “This is the point we lost Y in the castle attack.”
“The next few seconds are crucial,” said Hayden. “You selected an attack strategy, which the Y. rex implemented. Now he should select one of his own.”
“I thought you didn’t want that thing to have free will,” Adam called out shakily.
“He’s free to select from the options I have given him,” Hayden snapped. “That’s not thinking for himself.”
One of the giant, flailing reptiles broke free of the other’s grip and rolled clear. Adam saw by the bleeding jaw and the missing teeth that it was Zed. But already the Y. rex was back on its feet and coming at him once more. Zed launched himself into the air, flicked out his wings and soared up toward the vaulted ceiling like some nightmarish dragon.
“There’s nowhere to go, freak,” Bateman said with delight.
The Y. rex roared angrily at Zed as he circled above just out of reach.
“Still not selecting a fight strategy,” called Josephs.
Hayden’s eyes never left the screen. “Give it another five seconds.”
Zed, meantime, was making full use of the delay. He suddenly banked left and attacked part of the wall, shearing through solid rock with his talons to expose thick cables that ran like arteries beneath.
“The environment controls!” Josephs leaped from her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “If he destroys them, the Ring safeguards go down.”
“Get away from there,” Hayden shouted into the microphone, “or I’ll kill Adam now.” But the threat was unnecessary. The Y. rex had chosen his move and slammed into Zed just as he tore through one of the shielded cables. The lights flickered. Both dinosaurs blazed blue for a moment, then broke apart and spiraled to the ground.
“Some damage to nonessential systems,” Josephs reported tersely.
Bateman had turned to check another bank of controls. “I think the gas pumps have gone off-line. Now we can’t tranq the beasts if things get out of hand.”
“So, get your men to stand by with the shock-guns,” Hayden told him, with a meaningful glance at Mr. Adlar. “Not that it will come to that. Right, Bill?”
Bateman gave the order into his radio. A deep voice responded, shot through with static. “Copy that. Standing by.”
Adam hardly heard them, glued to the struggle on the screen. Y. rex lunged for Zed’s wing, tearing into it like a chewy steak. Zed shrieked with pain and fury, slicing at his twin’s scaly back with carving-knife claws. Y retreated for the first time, blood flooding from its wounds.
“That one hurt,” Josephs shouted, her dark skin glistening with sweat. “Huge production of glucocorticoids.”
Bateman glanced at her. “Huh?”
“It’s scared,” Hayden translated. “Reinforce the programming, Bill. We’ve got to spike Y. rex back into attack mode.”
Adam held his breath, willing Zed to resume the attack while he could. A close-up of Zed’s face filled one of the four screens as he waited uncertainly, wings tightly folded now, watching his twin. His eyes looked pained, almost sad.
Suddenly, Zed seemed to notice the camera. “STOP FIGHT!” he roared, stomping toward it. His open jaws filled the screen. The image went dead. Bateman quickly patched in another security camera to replace it. Zed roared again. “Not! Fight!”
Hayden pressed his lips to the microphone. “You’ve got no choice, Zed.”
“Y’s fear levels receding,” Josephs shouted. “You’re doing it, Bill.”
“Don’t, Dad,” Adam whispered as the Y. rex launched into flight and screamed across the Ring at Zed, claws outstretched. “Please.”
“It’s gone to strategy thirteen!” called Josephs. “Full charge with talon attack.”
“Did you choose that strategy for him, Bill?” Hayden demanded.
Mr. Adlar shook his head wearily. “Y did it by himself.”
Hayden smiled.
There was a sickening smack as Zed’s body was crushed against the rock wall. Y. rex grabbed Zed’s injured wing with both claws, twisting the thick, gristly sail of skin like he was wringing out a dishcloth.
“Yes . . . a definite follow-through,” said Josephs, excitement building in her voice. “It’s working through the close-quarters combat strategies in order.” She went on with her commentary, unmoved as Zed howled and slipped in his own blood, trying to wrench himself free.
Adam bit his lip, shocked by the violence. Come on, he willed Zed. Break free, you’ve got to! Finally, Zed managed to loop his tail around his twin’s neck and yank down hard. The clone fell flailing onto its back. Zed raised one foot to stamp down on Y’s neck—then seemed to hesitate.
It was a mistake.
Y jammed a handful of claws into the underside of Zed’s foot, slashing his sole, driving him back.
Bateman gave a pantomime wince. “That’s gotta sting.”
“Strategy nineteen!” Josephs cried. “Y. rex is self-selecting from the range of options.”
“The programming is holding!” Hayden drained his coffee in a flamboyant gulp. “We’re doing it, people!”
And Zed’s losing. Adam could see the cloudiness in those dark eyes, where teeth, tranqs and shock-guns had taken their toll. He eyed the battered old watch on his dad’s wrist ticking away eac
h sickening second of the conflict.
And suddenly, Adam knew what he had to do. He’d have just one chance.
With a roar like a freight train tearing past the sidings, Y. rex hurled itself at Zed. A frenzied soundtrack of grunts and thumps ensued, a pounding, haphazard rhythm like a wild heartbeat going into arrest. Mr. Adlar glanced over at Adam and saw what he was holding. He caught the look in his son’s eyes.
“Willful, you called me, Dad. And secretive.” Adam sprang toward his father and brought the dart plunging down. “And in the mother of all bad moods!”
Mr. Adlar gasped and clutched his wrist.
Hayden spun around from watching the screens. “What the—?”
“I drugged my dad just like you tried to drug me,” Adam shouted, his own adrenaline levels going through the roof as he held up the tranquilizer dart to Bateman. “Now he can’t help your Y. rex stay in control!”
Bateman jumped up. “How did you—?”
Adam hurled the spent dart at the big man’s feet. “Your mercenaries shot this at me in the warehouse, but it never went in.”
Mr. Adlar collapsed, sprawling across the computer keyboard. Josephs looked over in alarm. “Don’t take your eyes off that display, Sam!” Hayden bellowed. “Mr. Bateman—”
“On to it,” Bateman lowered his head and charged at Adam.
“Not him!” Hayden yelled. “See to Bill. We’ve got to revive him!”
Bateman hesitated midcharge—and Adam grabbed the moment. He hurled himself into his creaking office chair with every ounce of strength he had, gripping the low back with his cuffed hands as he rode it out of the security head’s path and headed through a canyon of desks straight for Josephs. She looked up at the last moment, just as Adam crashed into her, shoving her from her seat. She fell awkwardly, cracking the back of her head on the edge of the audiovisual console behind her.
She didn’t get up again.
Too scared to feel even a second’s satisfaction, Adam started to stab at every button on the console. “Zed!” he shouted, and heard his own voice ring back at him over the flat screens with a squeal of feedback. “Make it angry and it’ll lose control! It can’t think like you can.”
Hayden looked livid, already sprinting toward Adam. Bateman was just behind him.
Oh, God, oh, God. Adam grabbed Josephs’s mug of coffee with both cuffed hands and chucked it at Hayden. Hayden ducked down; the mug sailed past him. He kept on coming. In desperation, Adam lifted a metal clipboard from the desk and swiped wildly at Hayden’s head. This time, he connected. As Hayden staggered back, blocking Bateman’s own attack for a moment, Adam scrambled over Josephs’s desk to reach the console that worked the doors. He flicked every switch he could see. The double doors ahead of him started to grind open; the dark pen beyond breathed the stink of reptile and rotting meat into the room. An escape route? No, Bateman was still coming. He would shut the doors, shut Adam’s eyes forever unless . . .
Adam joined his fists, took a clumsy swing at Bateman and missed. Bateman thumped him in the stomach. The breath exploded from Adam’s lungs and he doubled up, falling to the floor. On the screens, Zed was on his belly, frantically crawling, dragging Y. rex behind him. Y’s jaws were clamped around Zed’s tail, brutally scissoring the tough flesh.
Get out, Zed, Adam willed him, just get away. Then Bateman stepped over him, blocking his view. Still struggling for breath, Adam watched the big, sneering man draw back his fist, a slow and measured movement—like a blunt arrow being readied for flight. Zed’s roar of pain and fury rattled the speakers and tears blurred Adam’s view as the fist hurtled down toward his face.
23
KILLING
There was a booming crack—as Bateman’s fist hit the floor and the rest of him followed in a crumpled heap.
Adam wiped his eyes. His dad was standing over him now, wielding the Think-Send keyboard in shaking hands. He chucked it away and scooped up Adam into his arms.
Feeling sick with relief and about a hundred miles tall, Adam pressed his head against his father’s chest. “My dad, the action hero.”
Mr. Adlar pulled away, squeezed his arms. “Very clever, bringing that dart down on my watch strap. Seemed to fool the others.”
“Dad, look!” Adam pointed up to the monitor screens with a jolt of excitement. The Y. rex had started moving its arms up and down again and shaking its head, the “calm-down” routine Adam had seen earlier. And rather than press home his advantage, the wounded Zed was scrabbling at the heavy doors blocking the west exit with bloodied claws.
“I put Y out of attack mode,” said Mr. Adlar, studying the switches on the door console. He jabbed one, and both doors to the Ring began to crank slowly open. “I don’t know how long it’ll remain harmless but—”
“What have you done?” Hayden, a blackening bruise on his forehead, struggled up, stumbled over Josephs’s fallen body and started hammering at her computer keyboard. “You just killed your son, Bill. I hope you know that. The Y. rex will—”
“I’m sick of your threats, Jeff,” Adam’s dad shouted. “I won’t be your prisoner a minute longer.” He started forward to confront Hayden—but Bateman had stirred and made a grab for his ankle. Adam quickly kicked Bateman’s wrist away before he could make contact. Seeing the danger, Adam’s dad retreated back to the door console and yanked a cable from the back of the unit. Sparks spat from the metal housing. “That’ll jam the doors. Come on, Adam.”
“How far d’you think you’ll get?” Hayden screamed after them.
Mr. Adlar didn’t answer as Adam followed him into the fetid darkness of Y. rex’s pen. Hayden’s voice echoed weirdly after them: “All security to the Ring, west exit. Doors jammed open—proceed with caution. Eliminate anyone and anything that tries to leave.”
Adam stepped carefully over the shattered rib cage of some long-dead animal. “Does this tunnel lead anywhere else?”
“Only to the Ring. So we’ve got to be fast.” His dad led the way through the passage. “Y. rex is liable to snap out of the trance at any moment—bleeding, sore and very, very angry.” He looked seriously at Adam. “Zed is our one hope now for getting out of here.”
Wading through the gloom they reached an archway in the back of the wall guarded by a huge, half-raised door. The dented steel was scored with deep scratches. Adam shuddered as he ducked down beneath it and into another huge tunnel, just like the one in Fort Ponil. His heart felt tight as a drum. He was sure he could hear scuffling behind them. Bateman? Guards? Maybe even Hayden himself. . . .
His dad caught his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Ad. We’re going to get out of here.”
“You honestly think that?” Adam squeezed his hand back and pulled away. “You don’t have to treat me like a kid, Dad.”
“Maybe if I’d remembered you were a kid instead of treating you like luggage to carry around with me, we wouldn’t be in this mess now, huh?” Mr. Adlar sighed. “I am unbelievably proud of you, you know that? I should have told you more often.”
Adam looked at him. “Now you’re sounding like you really don’t think we’re going to get out of here.”
His dad’s only answer was a wry smile. Adam smiled back and stayed close to him. Somehow, the silence between them felt more comfortable now.
They moved quickly, quietly into a smaller cave, studded with bright spotlights. “This antechamber is where Y. rex is inspected for damage after missions,” Mr. Adlar explained. “The Ring’s straight ahead.”
“And so are Bateman’s mercenaries.” Adam tensed up as he heard the sudden blast of shock-guns and the crack of bullets. “They must be finishing off Zed. He’s hurt already, he won’t be able to—”
A soft, broken whining sounded from up ahead.
“Zed?” Adam broke away from his dad, ran through into the arena—and almost collided with the bloody, slobbering chops of a fallen dinosaur. His heart lurched—this was not Zed, but the Y. rex. It still had all its teeth, and the wounds on its neck ca
used by Zed’s raking claws were still bubbling blood. The scaly eyelids were screwed up tight, and claws and tail were twitching in time to the rattle of the gunfire, as though it were having bad dreams.
“It’s already throwing off the programming,” Adam’s dad muttered, running up behind him. “It may be hurt, but will be blood-crazed, unstoppable. We have to be quick.”
Adam started to make for the gaping metal mouth in the wall opposite, the west exit. “Zed must be through there.”
“Easy, Adam,” his dad held him back. “Zed can stand up to a firefight better than we can.”
“And now I get to prove it!” shouted Bateman from behind them.
Adam’s heart catapulted against his ribs. He whirled around to find the big man’s paunchy silhouette in the well-lit antechamber.
“Hayden told me to shoot to wound,” Bateman went on, raising his gun. “Although, frankly, the way I’m feeling right now—”
But the rest of the threat was lost in a deep, earsplitting shriek. Y. rex must have snapped out of its trance and seen the human intruders. It lunged for Adam, long neck outstretched, jaws snapping. Mr. Adlar saw it coming and shoved his son clear—just as Bateman’s gun spat thunder. Adam heard a whistle of air as the great jaws swung shut and a blast of foul breath broke over him. Bateman cried out as Y’s flailing tail smashed his legs from under him and sent him crashing into Mr. Adlar. The two men went tumbling across the arena, their twisted limbs intertwined.
“Dad!” Adam yelled, backing away from the Y. rex on all fours. The drooling monster watched him with cold, crocodile eyes. The pits of its nostrils twitched. It snapped its jaws and scraped its claws together like some hideous butcher sharpening his knives. Roaring like a thousand tigers, Y. rex prepared to pounce, corded muscles twitching and dancing under its reptilian skin.
“No . . . no . . .” Adam screamed as that twisted, inhuman face came flying forward to devour him—
Only to crunch against a wall of solid, scaly flesh instead, as a huge figure dived forward protectively.
