by Ryan Rinsler
Suddenly, two Scouts rounded the corner in front of them, standing at the end of the alley, blocking their path. As they both drew their tasers, Stanley watched as Sonny, instead of slowing and taking cover, took on a burst of speed, ducked, and charged at them. The flash of the tasers almost blinded Stanley, causing him to slow and shield himself, but not Sonny. Sonny dived forward, rolling dramatically out of the way of the taser needles, instantly landing on his feet once more. The needles narrowly missed Stanley, who jumped to the side as the red spikes flew past his legs.
Sonny was now airborne. His outstretched foot thumped one of the Scouts hard in the chest, his momentum causing them to fly backward and hit their head on the ground with a loud crack. He turned to the other Scout and kicked the taser from his hand, then, spinning around with immense skill and precision, kicked him in the side of the head with his heel. The Scout hit the ground almost as the foot met his head, and Sonny reset himself, poised, ready in a fighting stance, waiting in case one of them moved.
After a second he grabbed the tasers from the floor and nodded to Stanley, who was now stood riveted to the spot, having nowhere to take cover. Sonny took off running, snapping Stanley out of his trance. They exited the alleyway and crossed a busy road, Sonny stopping the cars by simply running in front of them, allowing Stanley a safe journey across.
Any number of these cars could contain Scouts, but they had no choice but to press on. They were now charging down the sidewalk, Sonny glancing around desperately, trying to find a less conspicuous route.
They heard the squeal of tires up ahead. It surely wasn’t a coincidence – they were coming.
“It’s just one,” shouted Sonny. “We need to get off the road.”
They reached a small clothes shop, and after an agonizing wait for the automatic doors to open, they slipped inside. There was only a single person inside the store, stood patiently at the back of the room. The young man smiled as the two of them approached, Sonny marching menacingly while Stanley skipped behind him, clutching his hands together.
“May I help you?”
Sonny didn’t hesitate, He grabbed the slight young man by the scruff of the neck and picked him up to meet his face. “Show us the way outta here, now.”
He dropped him to the floor, where he took a couple of steps back, his face ashen. “What do–”
“The back way! Take us!” he snapped, causing the man to flinch.
He staggered backward, then pushed open a nearby door, still glancing at Sonny fearfully. “This way,” he stammered, leading them through a series of tight, dark passages until they reached a fire escape. Sonny banged down the lever and pushed through, Stanley casting an apologetic smile to the young man as he followed.
They had emerged into a parking lot, and as Sonny stood, looking around for which direction to take, Stanley caught his breath. “How far?” he asked.
“Few minutes. This is dangerous now. They’ll be scouting for us.”
“Can we hide from them?”
“I don’t know, it depends how many they sent. By the sounds of the sirens I’d say there were maybe twenty.”
“Twenty Scouts?” exclaimed Stanley.
“Twenty cars. Four Scouts in each.”
Oh my god. Two Scouts at a time they could handle, or at least Sonny could, but eighty or more?
“Perk up,” said Sonny, clearly reading Stanley’s panic. “We’ll dodge these assholes. We’ve no devices on us so they can’t track us. They’re UVR right now.”
“UVR? What’s UVR?”
“It means they’ve gotta physically see us.”
“That’s something, right?”
“Maybe. Come, stick to me.”
After a few minutes of nervous walking, the two of them checking each alleyway, entrance and gap between buildings as they stepped lightly, Sonny pointed up ahead. “We’re close, look.”
They were approaching a road, perpendicular to them, and beyond that was the main entrance to the white zone. It was a large pedestrianized area, at least the size of a football field, with grassy parkland areas and wide open pathways. Hundreds of civilians and Silk Corporation employees trooped silently between the Gyro station and the main center entrance, the crowd so dense that they had to walk slowly, almost waddling like penguins as they moved. The exterior of the building was dark solar glass, gleaming in sunlight, absorbing its rays to power the twenty stories of meetings and administration. Those entering and exiting the building kept their heads down, either looking at their BlackBooks or their feet, occasionally pausing to sidestep around an oncoming obstruction. It was like an open air Grand Central station on a busy morning.
Sonny took a couple of steps back and pulled Stanley back with him, retreating into the shadow of the alleyway from which they’d just emerged. “We’re not safe here,” he whispered. “Look.” He pointed through the crowd, toward a distant parking lot. “I guess that’s why the sirens stopped.”
Through a brief gap between the sea of bodies, Stanley caught a glimpse of what Sonny was referring to. Beyond them, parked neatly in a parking lot nestled beneath the Gyro tracks, was an array of black Scout patrol cars.
“Dammit, why don’t I have any weapons,” whispered Sonny rhetorically, shaking his head.
Stanley was now cowering in a doorway, peering around the edge. “Can you see any of them?”
“Not yet. There are drones though.” Three white drones were hovering above the crowd, zipping left and right and spinning on their axes. “They must have worked out this is where we’d try to get use as an exit point.”
“So what now?”
“Let me think,” he replied, joining Stanley in the doorway. “They know we’re headed here, they must do. There were only about ten cars over there which means some are on foot here, some will be guarding the exits.”
Stanley paused and stared at Sonny, who caught his gaze. Maybe he could be a diversion, he thought. He’s nothing to lose.
“They want us both, you more, probably,” said Sonny, clearly reading his thoughts. “Even if I drew them off, you wouldn’t get off the compound.”
Slightly warm in the cheeks having his thoughts exposed, Stanley clapped the back of his hand in embarrassment, attempting to appear as though he was thinking of other options.
“You need me with you,” continued Sonny. “They’ve not got much in the way of street-level recon but those,” he said, pointing to the drones, “they control them on the move.”
“They’re only over the entrance.”
“Yeah, and that’s the only hope we have right now.”
“Do you not still have the number for our pickup?” asked Stanley. “Could you get them to meet us here? Or walking distance?”
“Not a good idea. In any case, the number was on that piece of paper, which is now probably on the floor of the elevator we left that girl in.”
“Micki.”
Sonny glanced at him, then sighed. “Yeah. It’s a shame about her.”
“What do you think will happen to her?”
“Nothin’ good,” he replied. “She’s not our concern now. What is our concern is getting on a Gyro.”
“How are we going to get past everyone?”
“That’s not our concern either, not right now.”
“What do you mean?”
Sonny sighed. “If we get on a Gyro now, with an alert on us, as soon as we scan in they’ll know exactly where we are.”
Man, this guy is full of good news.
“I could…” He stopped himself.
“What?”
“I might have to do something we used to do back in the day. In the, uh…” He paused again, visibly gritting his teeth and tensing his jaw. It was clear he was uncomfortable with the thought of whatever it was he had planned.
“Whatever it is it needs to happen quickly. Look at the drones.” They were moving closer, expanding their search radius. “Shit, there’s Scouts there too.”
Sonny peered around the edg
e of the white, concrete wall. Two Scouts were edging down the road toward them, checking each doorway and hiding place, just as Stanley and Sonny had been doing on their way to their current position. They were wearing electronic glasses, a type of headset with a HUD, giving them commands and information on the fly.
“Just keep back, they won’t see us.”
After a few moments Stanley breathed a sigh of relief as they passed the entrance to the alley in which they were hiding, and continued down the road.
“We need a volunteer,” said Sonny.
“A volunteer? What for?”
He looked at Stanley. “You seem like a solid guy, Dr. Chen. You’re also a clever guy, so I guess you know there’s not many ways outta this. What’s that saying? Shitty times call for shitty solutions?”
Stanley took a deep breath. “Something like that.”
“Keep your eye out for someone. Anyone.”
“There’s a guy right there,” he said, pointing back up the street.
Sonny spun around and glanced around the wall again. “What?”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“It’s best you don’t know,” replied Sonny. “Or watch.”
What?
“Stay back,” he said, preparing himself to dive out. “Don’t make a noise.”
The man approached, his long coat bouncing on his calves as he walked, a serious, unwavering glare on his face. Sonny held the wall with his hand, then, at the last second before the man disappeared past the entrance to the alleyway, be bolted out, ran toward him, and grabbed him around the neck, dragging him backward into the alley. He kicked violently, but struggled to make any noise through Sonny’s grip on his neck. The drones didn’t seem to catch any of the commotion, and after no more than ten seconds, the man was limp and unconscious. Sonny dragged him past the doorway, making his way further out of sight. He lay him down in an alcove, where Stanley joined them.
“Did you stun him?” he asked frantically.
“Just knocked him out,” replied Sonny, taking off his jacket. “You may want to look away for this bit.”
He couldn’t. He wanted to, but the urge to see what Sonny was about to do kept his gaze firmly on the two of them. Sonny tore off the sleeve of his jacket, then tied the end of it around one of the man’s fingers.
“Old technique from way back,” he said, wrapping the sleeve around time and time again. It bunched up in a tight coil, and after ten or more wraps, he looked up at Stanley. “You definitely want to look away now.”
Stanley shielded his eyes as Sonny gave the coiled sleeved a hard yank, twisting it a full 360 degrees. Stanley winced, jumping back a little, and watched as the bloodied sleeve dropped to the floor, unfurling itself.
“What did you do?” he shouted, under his breath.
“We need a print,” he replied, pocketing the man’s severed finger. He took the sleeve and made a makeshift bandage, tying around the wound, then stood up. “Let’s move.”
They returned to the doorway near the entrance to the alleyway. “We need a diversion,” said Sonny. “All we need to do is get to that stairway,” he said, pointing to the access point leading to the Gyro station above.
“Can we make a run for it?”
“We wouldn’t make it. Not with those drones. They have FaceRec, so any glimpse of either of us it’ll scan us and flag us.”
They ducked away as a few people walked past. “See that van? That’s the one they’re controlling the drones from.”
“How can you tell?”
“Look. It’s the only one with an external camera and it’s pointing right at them. They still use them in Red Oscar. If I can get to that van maybe I can get us outta here.”
The van itself was at least a hundred meters away, on the edge of the main pedestrianized area. No other cars were in the vicinity, and no Scouts were guarding it.
“I’ve been watching it since we got here. I’ve seen one person get out and get back in again. There could be two in there, maybe three.”
“You’re getting in the van?” exclaimed Stanley.
He nodded.
“How? What about the drones? Won’t they see you?”
“Watch,” he said, pointing to them. “Follow what they’re doing.”
Stanley did so, carefully surveilling their movement.
“See they’re only checking people coming in?”
It was true – when each door opened, or pedestrian emerged from the stairway to the Gyro station, the drones spun around and analyzed them, before checking the next.
“They do a full scan of the area then focus on the entrance points.”
“Isn’t this alleyway an entrance point?” asked Stanley.
“Of course. They’ve been checking in this direction every forty seconds, and with all three of them it gives me a window of about ten seconds a minute.”
“I’m not coming with you, am I?”
“When you see the signal, get to the van as quick as you can.” He glanced up at the drones. “Ready?”
45
Stanley watched as Sonny, stooping low, his steps light, ran toward the drone control van. There was no cover, so he had to get there as quickly as possible, keeping his eye on the three drones hovering nearby.
Stanley held his breath. If Sonny was apprehended he would be on his own, with no clue of how to get out of there. Sonny, clearly confident in his abilities and the success of his sub-mission, had simply told him to meet him at the van when he gets ‘the sign’. What that sign was he’d no clue, but Sonny had been true thus far, and he had no reason to doubt that he’d told him everything he needed to know.
He took cover in the doorway, and watched.
Sonny had reached the van and was now crouching beside it, checking the coast was clear. Still crouching, he reached out and gave two hard knocks on the side door. It opened, and in one swift movement Sonny slipped inside and shut the door. Stanley was aghast, watching wide-eyed as the van rocked back and forth.
He held his breath once more as the rocking ceased.
Is he dead?
Suddenly, one of the drones rapidly accelerated away from the crowd, then, after hovering for a few seconds, turned and returned at full speed, narrowly missing one of the others. Stanley bit the back of his fist in anguish and suspense. Sonny was obviously operating but not in complete control of the drone, with it zooming back and forth erratically. After another two misses it finally made contact with another drone and sent both of them downward, crashing into a row of parked cars.
Stanley jumped with excitement, waving his clenched fists in the air. The crowd scattered, some screaming as they ran, Scouts ducking and running to investigate.
Without hesitation Stanley burst into action. He ran, blinkered to the commotion to his left, eyes solely focused on the van. The door was opening. It was Sonny. Stanley couldn’t help but grin as he saw him, and, as Sonny began running, he didn’t slow down one bit as they made their way to the clearing stairway up to the Gyro station.
Sonny was pulling away, and as they hit the steps he took gigantic leaps, clearing the flight of twenty-or-more stairs in no time. Stanley tried his hardest, and as he reached the top Sonny gave him a helping tug on the arm. The two of them reached the Gyro station at the same time, and were now the center of attention, being the only ones not stood in terror at the accident. They paid no mind to this, however, and brazenly pushed through the entire queue of people on the way to an approaching Gyro.
“Out of the way!” shouted Sonny as the last couple threatened to climb aboard it in front of them. Visibly shocked, they staggered out of the way and allowed the two of them to pass. Sonny fished in his pocket and withdrew the gruesome severed finger, pressing it once on the pad to open the door. They climbed in, Sonny instantly using the finger to turn on the privacy glass, darkening it to hide them from the world beyond with the touch of a button.
He held his finger to his lips, indicating to Stanley not to speak. He wince
d as Sonny continued to use the finger to program the destination into the keypad, then, after a few seconds, they were off.
They zipped across the city, slipping between the hundreds of thousands of other Gyros navigating the tracks, the dimmed view of the world giving Stanley little comfort.
How do we know if we were followed? he thought. How can I ask?
He didn’t need to. Sonny was in control, sitting loosely in the seat beside him. He took a deep breath and attempted to emulate Sonny’s calmness, relaxing back in the seat and closing his eyes. The two of them sat in silence for the entire forty-minute journey, with Stanley frequently nodding off then waking himself up with a jolt.
His mind was on his family and his own future. Before the escape it felt to him that he was Hans’ little pet project, something for him to play with, like a trapped fly. They had met surprisingly little resistance, at least for Sonny’s capabilities, but after the escape he was certain that his capture would now be a higher priority, as would Andrew McBride, Sonny’s host. Sonny’s method of avoiding being tracked was clever as it was gruesome, but as soon as the man whose finger was now in Sonny’s pocket wakes up and reports the event, they could be onto them. Still, they’d have to work out who took it, and what his finger was used for, but this wouldn’t be difficult, not with surveillance and the man’s testimony. What it did do, however, was buy them time. It was obvious they just needed to get clear, get to a safe place beyond the watchful eyes of Silk Corporation, but Stanley had a burning question — one that he was itching to ask Sonny.
Why did they come to get me?
Putting his own self-doubt aside, his objective mind looked at all the other possibilities, the countless techs and neuroscientists far more hardened and battleworn than he. But he had been chosen, and right there and then a warmth spread over his body.
He was free.
Supposedly, Connor Cooper had sent Sonny to release him from the jaws of Hans Richter, and if that were the case, then surely it must have been his own intervention, sending Connor blindly to Red Oscar, which had led to Sonny being sat next to him now. He must have met Mana, who must have said the right things. The resistance in Black Alpha was dead. There had been no leader for years, yet with many still sympathetic to the resistance, they had each tried to make a difference if only on an individual level. What it needed was someone to step up. Someone with the ability to piece the resistance back together here. His heart pounded as he pictured Cory Adams and Jeanie Novak, the two most influential leaders and fighters for the resistance, who had since gone into hiding, coming face to face with Connor.
