Intended Extinction

by Hanks, Greg

  He released me and I gasped for air, holding my sore neck. I crouched down, recuperating, while Bollis strode away, taking his weapon and exiting the room.

  24

  I was alone again.

  I sat in a daze as the flames danced into the night. I thought my reaction would be something akin to a string of curse words, or an even warmer hatred toward Bollis. Astoundingly, that wasn’t the case.

  Because of what he had said, there arose a glimmer of trust. I couldn’t believe it, but it was true. His words were branding me with a new perspective. In a matter of seconds, Bollis had managed to turn me from disbelieving and disrespectful, to quiet and reflective.

  But how could he expect me to cope with all of this so easily? I had just learned that the last five years of my life had been lived off of a lie—or something like that. All I really knew was that GenoTec was responsible for the Turnmont and for sending those masked soldiers after us.

  Maybe I just needed to calm down.

  I stood, rubbing my throat and making sure I was the only one awake. Tara and Justin were still out cold, as if there hadn’t been a heated debate going on right in front of them. As I looked at their bodies, I wondered how they were going to react to all of this.

  I padded over to Tara’s couch and lethargically dropped myself onto the floor again, leaning against one of the armrests. Looking deeper into the flames, I became mesmerized. It was time to work things out in my mind.

  All right. What if all of this was true?

  I started to piece together stray information that hadn’t made sense before. The riots in London. The radioactive explosion in Moscow. The incident in Manhattan that killed Tara’s sister. The stories that were chalked up to be rogue terrorist attacks were starting to become eerily clear now. What was GenoTec’s motive? Why would they provide so much hope to the world, and then have some kind of ulterior personality?

  I started to think about Slate. Archturus Slate: CEO since the beginning. Now, all of the sudden he’s gone, and those metal-heads start popping up everywhere. Had something from within the corporation spurred some kind of insurrection? Was this just the beginning of a mass rebellion?

  That sounds ridiculous.

  There was a reason for all of this. I remembered the news report in Justin’s hovel. Repik. If GenoTec was as corrupt as I thought, then everything Repik had said was a lie. It must have been him sending those men. Right? Or was he oblivious to everything? I kept coming back to the idea that maybe it was just a group of people responsible. Maybe for the most part, GenoTec was okay.

  But Bollis seemed to think the whole corporation was the problem. Then again, he had only revealed so little. I sighed and leaned my head against the worn couch. What a twisted reality I lived. Amazingly, I was almost wishing to be back in my apartment, coughing up blood instead of dealing with all of this.

  Now I’d really lost my mind.

  I guess I didn’t need much fact. I had all the evidence to believe Bollis. The soldiers. The Collectors. Bollis’ strange appearance and motives. The hard part was accepting the truth.

  I erased my mess of thoughts and embraced the silence. I listened to my breaths and closed my eyes. Tara’s face appeared in my mind. I thought of her, as she lay motionless on the couch. Her familiar voice came into my head, from the night I had killed those three soldiers. I was reminded of her conviction, her bravery. It was here that I began to feel a stirring motivation. When Tara awoke, who was I going to be? The scared skeptic that would lead her to her doom? Or was I going to be strong, mature, and ready to do whatever it took to keep her safe?

  Bollis burst through the door. He stopped and looked at me with a serious face.

  “Well,” he said, “so much for a dramatic exit—we’ve got company.”

  I hit my head against the armrest, wanting to escape. More metal-heads? When were they going to stop? How was I that important?

  Sitting there wasn’t going to help anyone. There was nothing I could do. It was time I accepted my life for how it was. No more sulking, no more complaining. I had to act.

  I stood and swallowed my fear. “How many?”

  At first he narrowed his brow, unsure if I was serious or not. Then he stepped forward. “A lot.” He pointed to Tara and Justin. “Take them through that corridor and you’ll find a staircase. Wait for me at the top. Go!”

  The adrenaline kicked my ass.

  As Bollis crouched and rummaged through his bag, I moved to Justin, shaking his frail body.

  “Justin!” I said. “We’ve got to move, c’mon!”

  His head lifted lazily, hair as crazy as lion’s mane. I could now see his features in the light of the fire, revealing a large bruise nearly covering the entire right side of his face.

  “Where’s the other dude?” he asked with a hoarse voice.

  “I’m right here,” said Bollis from behind the couch. “Just listen to Mark,”

  As Justin started to recuperate, I rushed over to our weapons, placed near Tara’s couch, and slung both rifles over my chest. I realized there was fresh ammunition loaded into the weapons. I rounded the couch and scooped Tara’s limp body into my arms, knowing it might be a while before she woke.

  “We bustin’ heads?” asked Justin, coming back to himself, reaching inside his backpack and shoving his dog-eared beanie upon his head.

  “Just follow me,” I said, doing as Bollis had directed. As we were crossing the hardwood floor, I hesitated for a moment, turning back to Bollis.

  He lifted his head and saw we were standing there in the patch of moonlight.

  “Go!” he said, “I’ll be fine.” He lifted a small device from the black bag and set it on the floor.

  I took a deep breath and paved the way again. We crossed the threshold of the corridor and were immersed in blackness. I told Justin to activate one of the torchlights so we could find our way upstairs.

  “Careful,” I cautioned. “Once we get there, turn it off.”

  He nodded and clicked the flashlight.

  “You feel that, Marcus?!” he whispered. “It’s re-veeeeenge!”

  “Hey,” I said, grabbing his blasé attention, “this isn’t some sort of . . .” but then I realized who I was talking to. “Let’s just go.” He flashed me a grin underneath his knit cap and goggles.

  After making a U-turn and going up a few more steps, we entered the upper level and waited for Bollis. Justin quickly turned off the small light and started humming a soft tune.

  The room was small and cramped. Moonlight illuminated the corridor-like area from an expansive window to our right. The bricks of the fireplace cut the pane in half as they rose through the roof. On our immediate right, a door led outside, probably to a balcony. We must have been in an old Ellis Island building.

  I propped Tara against the nearby wall and checked her pulse. It was steady and normal. I set her rifle next to her and secured my own. Justin was peering out the nearest window like a sniffing hound.

  “Tarmucks, Tarmucks, Tarmucks-Tarmucks-Tarmucks . . .”

  Bollis bounded up the stairs, toting his bag, rifle, and a weird helmet. His weapon was a sub-machine gun, loaded with top-of-the-line accessories. A suppressor, scope, stock-inserted magazine, and a silver sheen arrayed the mini death machine. I looked down to my plain MLM-GR and envied Bollis.

  He crouched down next to us. His whisper was filled with urgency. “Listen to me very carefully. There are at least twenty of them out there. We will be just fine if you do exactly as I say. Mark, over by the chimney, a piece of cardboard is covering a hole. It overlooks the commons. If they come through that door downstairs, kill them. The fire will give you enough light to see.”

  My heart was pumping faster by the second, but I knew what I had to do. I could shoot. I had done this before.

  Twenty of them, though? I hoped Bollis was as competent as he looked.

  “Justin, here are some gas bombs—use them only if you hear them coming up the stairs. I set a few charges at the bot
tom, but it would be best if we could use these first.” He handed Justin three cylindrical tubes with a couple of buttons on the side. “Use the red button when you hear them, then throw it. The black one—”

  “Yeah, yeah, ‘Balls’! This is day-one stuff!”

  I guess Bollis had a new nickname.

  Bollis hesitated. “Mark, there’s an explosive by the door downstairs, but I didn’t have enough proxy’s to go around, so you’ll have to shoot that one. Try and group as many together as you can.”

  “Where are you going to be?” I asked.

  “Outside on the balcony. They don’t exactly know where we are, so I’ll try and take as many out as I can before they get inside.” He took a deep breath and said, “You guys ready?”

  Justin and I sat there like a couple of deer.

  “Good, then let’s get started, shall we?”

  He donned his form-fitting helmet and clamped the sides. The helmet was made out of some kind of flexible material, like a more solid version of plastic. It followed every curve of his skull, sporting a v-shaped visor that somehow didn’t reflect light. The design was unlike anything I had ever seen. Parts of the helmet were sectioned, akin to scales on a lizard.

  Where the hell had he come from?

  He slowly opened the door to the outside and crept at a low angle. The door stayed open, letting more moonlight invade the small attic. Outside, there was a six-foot concrete balcony, with a three-foot retaining wall.

  As Bollis got into position, I turned to Justin and said, “Are you gonna be okay?”

  “Stop worrying about her, Shinbutt,” he whispered, shaking my composure. “Let’s just kick some Tarmuck ass!” I almost lost focus for a moment. Disregarding his failure to say my true name, he knew I was worried about Tara. More shockingly, he let me know. Maybe I was underestimating the kid. Maybe he was more observant than I thought.

  For the first time in our short-lived relationship, I gave him a mischievous smile and said, “Let’s kick some Tarmuck ass.”

  Without warning, the sound of a muffled nail gun echoed off the walls. Bollis had begun.

  Justin hopped over to the staircase, looking down the shaft. I jogged over to the piece of cardboard covering the hole and carefully pushed it aside. Bollis was right; a gaping, splintered opening presented itself, allowing me a magnificent view of the bottom floor. I sat down, planted my feet on the sides of the threshold and aimed downward.

  The light from the fireplace cast flickering shadows all over the couches and hardwood floor. I aimed at the entrance and scanned the area for the explosive. Before I could find it, the door creaked open. I waited as the door sat there, barely ajar, breathing as quietly as I could.

  Instead of a body, a small, round ball rolled out of the opening. The sphere continued until it reached the middle of the commons, lying still under the glow of the moon. Suddenly, three metal legs shaped like spikes broke free from the sides of the sphere. The legs turned down and brought the globe to a standing position. On the top of the sphere, a tiny, square cutout rose above the body, emitting an eerie green laser. The head swerved around, scoring the entire room with its eye.

  They must have been mapping the room. I waited tensely until the small robot finished its unsuccessful attempt to find someone. The green laser shut off and the legs and head of the robot retracted back into its body. In my peripheral vision, the door below opened further. As I watched a darkened body emerge from the shadows, my grip intensified.

  More of my enemy’s body moved forward, crouched and taut. I didn’t let hesitation take its hold of me and promptly placed my reticule onto his head. Just as I pulled the trigger, Bollis fired another shot, causing my target to jerk his head to the right. My bullet struck the wall inches away from the soldier’s head, and he instinctively lunged to take cover behind one of the couches.

  I noted my ammunition capacity and took a deep breath. Luckily for me, my position still gave me the advantage. Right as I was about to take aim again, the door burst open, swinging and hitting the wall. Three more soldiers bounded into the room, scattering throughout the open commons. I froze for a second, wondering where to locate the explosive.

  I still had all four soldiers in my sight, but they were spaced out. If I didn’t act now, they would be moving to the stairs. I scanned the area again, straining my eyes to see through the darkness.

  I spotted it. A small, nearly invisible square package, attached to the base of the wall near the door that led to the bedroom. Fear tried to take hold of me, but I was done following orders from the emotion. I aimed and took the shot.

  I missed. One of the metal-heads jerked his head toward the ceiling. Even with the suppressor, my rifle made enough sound to be heard. Once again, I tried to hit the charge, but I couldn’t aim worth a damn. My window of opportunity was closing fast. I only had one more try . . .

  I pressed hard on the metal trigger.

  The whole building shook as the explosion sent plumes of flame and smoke throughout the bottom floor. I caught myself before falling fifteen feet, and glanced over at Tara and Justin. Tara was still out cold, while Justin looked back at me with shocked eyes.

  I did it. I actually hit the thing.

  Before I could take another breath, Bollis leapt through the door just as a rocket propelled grenade slammed into the balcony. The impact knocked me off balance and I fell through the hole.

  25

  For a moment there, I thought I had died.

  My head wouldn’t hurt that bad if I was dead, though.

  I shot up like a springboard and fell off of the couch. Both my skull and the left side of my torso cankered with pain. All around me, dense smoke shrouded everything within five feet. The flames from the fireplace were still flickering away, creating a warm, demonic atmosphere. I rolled onto my back, wincing and feeling debris crunch underneath.

  Through the ash I tried to find the broken ceiling, wondering if the others were okay, but my eyes kept burning the longer I held them open. I looked at the couch again, trying to figure out how it had magically broken my fall. It must have been moved by the shockwave of the first explosion.

  I got to my feet and found my rifle amongst the wreckage nearby. As my fingertips grazed the edge of the grip, I was tackled headfirst into the couch. The soldier tried to grasp my wrists, but I planted my feet onto the floor and pushed back, flinging us away from the couch and onto the ground. He landed to my right, and I got a glimpse of his tarnished uniform and cracked visor.

  He instantly recuperated and grabbed my leg, but was kicked in the face by my other. Recoiling in pain, he rolled back and started to get to his feet. When he looked up again, I had already retrieved my weapon. He started to raise his hands, but my finger pulled the trigger automatically. The silenced bullet drilled his chest and he toppled over.

  The smoke finally settled and I saw the other three bodies on the floor, killed from the explosion. I was about to make my way over to the stairs, but remembered the proxy charges Bollis had set.

  I went underneath the hole in the ceiling and called, “Are you guys okay?!”

  There was silence from upstairs for a moment, but then Bollis’ head emerged. “We’re fine, but they’re storming the building! Here!” He dropped me a small sphere with the indents of a button on the side.

  A grenade?

  “I have an idea!” I whispered, slinging my rifle over my shoulder, rushing behind one of the couches, and laying down. I was going to wait. If they knew we were on the balcony, they would be going for the stairs.

  I heard the crunch of rubble as more soldiers entered the commons. I held my rifle out, just in case they were to see me, but remained quiet. I heard them round the first couch, no doubt stepping over their own comrades. Just as I was about to make my move, a loud voice echoed throughout the commons.

  “Yo, slag-butts!”

  My head shot up to see what kind of crap Justin was about to pull. I watched as two silvery contraptions fell from the hole and
landed harshly onto the wooden floor. From the other side of the couch, I poked my head to see two spider-bots, one breaking free from its portable position and skittering along the floor, and the other lying broken and sparking.

  Bullets flew everywhere as the soldiers tried to stop the small robot from eating their faces off. The spider scaled a leg and impaled its sharp feelers into his kneecap.

  That was my chance. I looked down at the grenade in my hand and hesitated. I pressed the small button and lobbed the grenade over the couch.

  A wave of orange flame illuminated the entire room for a split second. The shockwave released dust from every surface.

  My ears tingled. My body was shaking. Once the falling pebbles ceased, all was quiet. I found my strength again and rose to my feet, aiming my rifle toward the smoky leftovers.

  I found an escaping soldier, limping his way out of the room. I began to stalk him, feeling the anger and depression of five years course through me. As my finger curled around the trigger, my arm started to convulse, causing me to drop my rifle. The metal-head pricked his neck in my direction. I withdrew back to the couch and stared at my writhing hand.

  No! Please, not now!

  I clutched the Adrenoprene-deprived wrist and closed my eyes. I needed to calm myself. It would pass.

  But it didn’t. The convulsions worsened. A sharp pain sliced my forearm and I fell to the side, cringing in silent agony. My hand contracted and became useless. I heard commotion from the door across the room, wondering how long I had left.

  I crawled over to the edge of the sofa. My vision waned in and out of focus. I couldn’t think clearly. The pain in my forearm had risen to my shoulder. Other parts of my body started to shake, and I probably looked like some sort of freak, writhing on the floor. Involuntary tears streamed down my face, and my mouth dried up.

  Across the room, someone was coming, but all I could think of were the reactions of my group. I didn’t want them to see me like this. No—I didn’t want Tara to see me like this. What would she think of me? This wasn’t happening. This was . . .