Jon was now maniacally beating the fat one with the pipe. Dewayne was already dead, but still spasming as Jon continued to obliterate his face, until it too was a mere pile of bloody brainless hairy pulp. With a final raise he lifted the bar. The steel pipe plunged straight into the Dwayne’s heart and he left it there. The tip funneled the body heat, smoking like a stack. He ran to Amy.
She was hurt, hurt real bad.
Valerie leered at the filth in front of her and spit on him. Jerry towered behind her and together they were one. Valerie brought the nose of the gun to his face, then lowered it.
“No, no,” Lee stammered. “We have—a device—it can—a vehicle. Anything you—” He cupped his hands around his exposed dick.
The powerful gun kicked her back but Jerry held her firm with his big hands on her shoulders. Lee wailed screaming in agony. “You bitch! Go ahead, fucking do it, go ahead you fucking—aaaaah!”
Valerie brought the gun up to Lee’s face. A hand gently rose atop hers and pushed it down. “The noise Val, we must—let me,” Jerry said. He knew two shots would be a dead giveaway to their location—to drones, or more villainous humans. Valerie lowered the gun and Lee sighed amid his pain; his fingerless hands, his black glassy eyes, his mutilated genitals.
A blink-less second later he only saw the boot. Jerry brought it down like a sledge. It was over in one hit. His black-bearded jaw shifted incongruously to the side of his face in a stereo crack; the neck made a low echoing pop. Unleashed, Jerry made absolutely sure with two more so hard the earth trembled; pirate no more, his face was flat.
“Pudrete en el inferno! Filth of humanity,” Valerie spit again.
“Jerry! Val!” Jon screamed. “She’s hurt bad. Her arm.”
Amy lay in Jon’s arms, unconscious; her blood was everywhere. They rushed over to help. The cut went into her arm right above her elbow; through the bone; her arm dangled by skin, tendons. Jerry met Jon’s eyes with terrible urgency.
“Do it,” Jon said. Jerry unfolded his buck knife and cut through the remaining flesh completely severing her arm. He set the arm behind him. The three worked together. Valerie put her feet up and covered her. Jerry made a tourniquet.
“Valerie we can take care of Amy, please go help Jodi.”
Jerry flushed the wound with water then wrapped it tight. Jon slid a pillow under Amy’s head then looked over to Valerie. In a flash flood of tears Valerie slowly shook her head.
Jon broke down.
29. Future City
Browsing the available maps, Amy was early and ready.
“Okay, Amy what’ll it be?” Ted asked. She remembered the stunning woman she’d seen, whom she now knew to be a top lender, among the best: Jessie, with the hourglass figure, long straight blond hair—the perfect, everything. How experienced she’d seemed, sure of herself, and sexy. When she grabbed her man with passion then called for privacy near the fountains…
“This one right here,” Amy said. “Future City.”
“Ah, popular map,” Ted said. “We’ve double checked your stats while you were off yesterday and everything looks excellent. We usually hold off for a few days to a week but we noticed you catch on very fast and it seems you might be ready for a full output day—if that’s okay with you of course. If you need more—”
“I’m ready to go full on Ted,” Amy interrupted. “I’d like to get straight to it.” She thought of Jessie. I want to be just like her.
“Okay then—ah, and here comes Jim now. He will probably stretch for a minute. Grab a bite or use the facilities, we’re a go in ten minutes. Feel free to log in anytime after that. And we can let the map you’ve chosen be a surprise but I’ll run over and let him know we’re a go for normal operation. And Jim likes the Future City map, so he’ll be happy you picked it.”
Jim, per chronic habit, did manage to get himself lodged into a stretching machine. Amy went to the bathroom. Exiting she passed him tossing a flirtatious wave and smile then went straight to the kitchen. Jim returned the smile and clicked another notch on the leg stretcher. He’d occasionally get cramps if he didn’t stretch, as did many of the others too. Cramps, like other bodily needs, could cause a sudden awakening, worse, an unexpected logout—highly frowned upon. Unexpected log-outs severely burden the main output flow. Only one could send the feed crashing, straight to yellow status, or worse, red. Each lender has to learn what works for them to keep things running smoothly.
After he finished he went to the kitchen and got a small cup of water. Amy was quickly devouring a monstrous breakfast burrito. Upon closer inspection he realized it was an entire medium pizza, rolled up. Wow she sure can eat, he thought. “Good morning. How are ya today? About ready?”
Amy responded with a packed mouthful, “Almost—” Chew, swallow. “—I’ll be right over Jim.”
Jim headed to the inner tier and climbed onto a bed, crossed his arms on his chest and began to relax. He thought about the dream he’d had two days ago. First dream in… It was still a shock. He had a slight nervousness about what to expect this time—with his new partner. He was coming to grips with a realization: this could very well be the end of years of routine monotony. But that’s what he so desperately wanted, right? She was unlike any other, a fact that slapped him harder with each moment. She looked perky, vibrant, and ready to get down to business.
Amy speed-walked over then hopped up onto the bed. She thought a lot last night and couldn’t sleep well. Her mind raced with possibilities of her new job. She noticed the reading on the bandwidth meter at the center of the room—bordering on yellow. We’ll see about that, she thought with determined brow. Curiously, she also noticed the purple status band again, far above the green. “Director: Amy to log in,” she said quietly.
Jim looked over to her then put his head straight, “Director: Jim to log in.”
Vision was a dancing blur. They spawned sitting on a bench near a grand casino entrance, the city of at its peak, the year 2025; the map stabilized. Lights—bulbs, neons, lasers, strobes—massacred the strip. Flashing 3D signs radiated in all directions, floating through the air larger than life—phantom ghost advertisements, brilliant lures. One swung by Amy, a huge roulette wheel with a bouncing steel ball. She reached out to touch it; with a ring of light banding her arm she played with the fantastic illusion. The city made its own stars, because countless colorful lights blocked out the real thing. The sky was packed with projections: Saturn and its glorious rings, dazzling purple nebulae, even entire spiral galaxies—all constantly changing as if the city was rotating under the display. Jim watched Amy’s face; her head rotated in awe at the magnificent city in all its complexity. She scanned the entire thing spinning around like a slow tornado sucking it all in, floating along the strip. The fountains in the distance! She stopped. She thought of Jessie, and wanted to try the same thing with…
And it didn’t take long before people arrived. The empty city quickly began to populate. They came walking from around corners and alleys, from the inside of the casinos and shops, even driving cars and trucks—the streets became clogged with noisy traffic. Within five minutes the place was packed with hundreds, even thousands of people—completely transformed. Jim’s awe visibly surpassed Amy’s. His strong chin became weak and dropped. He was so astounded, so completely blown away—like a handless puppet he went limp and fainted right then and there.
“Jim! Jim. Are you okay?” Amy asked kneeling down and shaking him. He woke easily and sat up quickly. Others surrounding him were also concerned, wanting to help. They left after he composed himself.
“I’ll be alright, just give me a couple minutes.” He had been there many times, but at best there were no more than—shit, forty people or so at any one time—on a good day. He knew the DC’s were being generated by Amy’s mind, 99% of them at least. They walked back to the bench and sat together. He plopped onto his butt and sighed.
Amy looked up to see a chopper fly by. It projected a spotlight; the light glimmered in her eye. S
ome people were arguing in the casino. Security was intervening. An old lady hit a Jackpot further inside and was jumping with joy. Tokens were spit onto the floor: a spinning red light, a ringing bell, jealous faces.
She focused on a green traffic light and watched it intensify. Same as before, the more she focused, the more she went into the light, melding with it. Time seemed to stop. She could take this perception to infinite depths and kept playing with it. So weird, interesting, she thought. Not like the real world. But who’s to say… She released her focus and shot like a bullet through a gun barrel. In her mind and every sense, gleaming rays of light projected her right back to where she was sitting. I’ll definitely play with this later.
“You better now Jim? Ready?”
“I’m fine,” Jim replied. “Don’t know what happened. Just freaked I guess. Never seen so many.”
“So, where do we start? Do we have to choke everyone?” Jim chuckled.
“Normally we’d take them out one by one, recover from the fatigue then repeat for as many as we could manage, but I’ve never seen so many, not in all my years with the program. I’ve, never seen anything like this.” There was a large bag at the side of the bench. Jim nudged it a little so Amy would notice. She did. He nodded for her to take a look.
Amy grabbed the hefty leather bag and looked inside. “Wow,” she said. She realized it was the same thing that had been behind his chair at the beach. There was a wide variety of items in the bag: knives, swords, machine guns and ammo, pistols, grenades and—some rather perversely creative tools.
She reached in pulled out a shiny double-edged sword and said, “It’s so light.” Jim tugged the bag back his way and grabbed a pump-action 12 gauge shotgun. He pulled out a canvas belt loaded with extra shells and wrapped it around his waist. “Holy shit!” Amy wowed.
“I think Ted mentioned to you that some of us enjoy the killing. Such as a sport.” Jim hesitated. “I do. I’ve enjoyed it for some time now. It’s the only thing that keeps me going anymore.”
“Jim. I—”
“But,” he interrupted her. “I admit, and it’s sudden I know. But since I first logged in with you…”
“I’m not judging you Jim. I want you to know that. We’ve all been through some things.” He smiled modestly, his head bobbed slightly in content. He wondered, how amazing can she possibly be. He had respect for the young woman. She was opening his eyes, and he enjoyed being with her, genuinely. For the first time in a long time, he…
“I noticed the bandwidth meter was edging on yellow when we logged in,” Amy said seriously. She ran her fingers along the gleaming blade. She touched its edge; a drop of blood fell to the ground.
“Been a difficult week,” he replied.
She looked directly at him, “Well we’re about to change that!”
Amy had devised a plan yesterday while thinking all day about how on earth she could do this; kill people. Number one: realize they are not real; that it really is just a dream. Two: focus her rage and anger. She thought it shouldn’t be hard to do with all she had been through and witnessed growing up. She had to realize first and foremost what she was fighting for, and give it her all. Her first session on Wednesday triggered painful flashbacks, memories of some truly harrowing experiences. Some of what she had endured was unspeakable. And this would be her way of dealing with them; take all the good, all the bad, the tormenting pain, and mash everything into a ball—use its focused power. My experience is an impenetrable shield that nothing can pierce; my resolve is this double-edged sword that I wield according to my own free will. I am Amy!
She bolted into the crowd slashing at people left and right. She screamed, “Ahhh!” A head-start on Jim, eyes wide he sprung to catch up and backed her. Aghast, people lost control and started running chaotically in all directions. Amy slashed at the ones that weren’t aware of her. Surprise. The very first victim was a suit who took it in the skull. It was messy, inefficient. She had to work on her aim, practice would help. She had to yank to retrieve the sword from his skull which dragged her arm downward as the body fell. She propped both feet on his head and pulled, working it back and forth. Blood spritzed, then puddled after getting it out.
About-facing the disarray she spotted two tightly dressed young men sharing earphones and kissing each other. She leapt over the bench in between them. It was two women, not men. One was cute with thick brows; the other not so, with shaved brows, thinly redrawn. Thick-brow had a lean high cheek-boned pretty face, the other was beefy, angular, and big-chinned. Beefy responded quickly, enraging instantly, until the bloody sword stole their attention. Amy charged it with kinetic energy before they could scream. She bent at the knees and put the steel at their throats, clipping the mighty chin of thin-brow. Thick-brow fell first, gurgling blood. Her scrawny self curled into ball and her head knocked a dull thud on the brick walk. Thin-brow landed on top of her, impacting hard enough to dislodge the round chin that was hanging by a mere thread. It rolled down the grade falling between a palm and its grated border. Gross. But I’m getting better all ready, she thought.
People had cleared her immediate area save for a red-dressed brunette clumsily trying to run away in high heels. Toward the street Amy trailed her like a ninja to a turtle, and cleanly halved both calf muscles. Her scream was deafening, a true supernova among the chaos. Petrified and lying on the ground the woman rolled to face her attacker. Her fingers tensely gnarled, her wig falling off, she exploded with terror, her face a rainstorm of make-up dismantling tears. Instinctively she raised both arms in defense as Amy delivered the steel. She drove it straight in, pinning her left arm into her chest at the heart. With faithful power she jerked it out. The woman’s face and eyes opened, widely agape. A red geyser painted Amy vertically from head to chest; her face was sober, undaunted—glossy with determination.
The city was in panic mode and emergency sirens could be heard in the distance.
Amy surprised him, did she ever. She worked the street and multi-level sidewalks to his rear. Jim stayed near the whole time, back facing her, blasting people with the power stick as they darted out of the casino. Not hampered with the usual post-fatigue, he kept on. He took out three within the first minute of their onslaught, including the old little lady who had just won the jackpot. She’d almost made it to the street, when he got her in the back. He didn’t know why he hesitated, almost letting her pass. He had never hesitated—ever. The white-haired woman, cleaving her chips, was more agile and faster than he expected but dropped to her knees with a lifeless wide-eyed expression. She became the proud winner of a see-through gut hole. Innards spewed and she landed face first in the slimy wriggly noodles. And chips went flying everywhere, loads of them spinning and whirling. The gaze of others in the distance widened, they wanted the chips, until Jim lifted the shotgun with one arm, pumping it in midair.
A security guard was sneaking to chain the casino doors. He’d managed to get the doors closed while Jim was working the old lady. Amy looked right seeing the big winner plop, then about-faced Jim. The security guard was timorously fumbling with the chains as Jim slowly walked toward.
Too slow, Amy thought, and she eyed the bench: the black bag.
“How about this one?” During her momentarily awed inspection it went off. The M-16 sprayed at least a dozen rounds into the sky. “Whoa. Sensitive trigger.” She knew it was ready to use. The automatic had a large extended clip of ammo; there were several extra clips in the bag so she reached in and grabbed one for each front pocket. She also grabbed a couple grenades clipping them on the front of her flower-patched jean shorts. The clips stuffing her pockets arched backwards, protruding like a couple of Wild West revolvers.
She turned around, recharged, and let loose at arriving police cars sending them into hydrants. She tossed a grenade—forgetting to pull the pin—so she took aim and shot it. Officers ditched, cars exploded. She took out emergency responders and remaining bystanders in a relentless spray of bullets.
And Jim ma
de his way back to the bag and reached inside. He’d tried blasting the casino doors but the glass took more than he had—bulletproof. He pulled out a pair of AM15’s, mimicking Amy’s lead. Each behemoth had a top-feeding rotating clip—275 rounds per. He walked over to his partner.
The gun-metal death dealers let loose as he squeezed the hair triggers harder than need be. Standing side by side, then back to back, they showered downtown Future City with lead taking out people close and afar, high and below, rotating. As citizens dwindled Jim let off the automatic trigger and began to use one in a more targeted manner, clipping people on the far sides of the street. Amy glimpsed the pile of onlookers that found sense of safety behind the casino doors Jim had failed to breach. She shouldered the weapon and unclipped her last grenade. This time remembering to pull the pin, she sneakily held it for a count then lobbed it over. The row of glass-barricaded onlookers ate the surprise in a bloody flash, and the front of the casino, its magnificent entrance, came crashing down.
The remaining officers fled in retreat for their lives as Jim detonated each of the vehicles one by one. Unbiased, he fired at rescue workers, crawling prostitutes, and gawking teens returning them all back to energy. The feed sucked it all in, he could feel it; he could feel the drag coming now, the slumbering dullness of mind and muscle.
The scene quickly become devoid of people once again, only fires and destruction remained. Jim tossed his guns and awed at the carnage. He knew why they had to do it—it wasn’t real, nor any person they’d killed but…
Lenders Page 24
