A hundred yards away, they were tearing Daisy apart.
“Daisy—run!” Tara shouted. “Get away.”
Vick thought she must be losing it. Daisy couldn’t run—they were all over her.
A section of Daisy’s lower back wriggled free and rolled to the ground. Vick squinted. None of the watchdogs had torn the piece off—it had pulled loose on its own.
The piece sprouted four legs and ran. As it leaped onto the hood of a car and dashed from roof to trunk before springing to the next parked vehicle, Vick realized what it was: Daisy. The original Daisy.
As the two-headed watchdog wrenched Big Daisy’s head off her limp form, Little Daisy sprinted toward freedom.
“The chip wasn’t in her head?” Vick said.
“Of course not,” Tara said. “Why in the world would you put a watchdog’s brain in its head? That’s the first place the enemy attacks.”
That was true. Still, Vick never would have thought to put a watchdog’s brain in her back end.
Gesturing wildly at Little Daisy’s fleeing form, Ms. Alba raced toward her watchdogs. “The little one. Get the little one.”
A raccoon-sized watchdog was the first to break out of the pile and give chase. The side of its head was caved in from blows from the muffler pipe, but it still moved faster than Little Daisy.
“Run. Run,” Tara called.
Every single watchdog gave chase. Daisy broke into the traffic on the crossing street, weaving and leaping to avoid being run over.
When Ms. Alba’s pack reached the crossing street, they were met by screeching brakes and a chorus of honking horns. A taxi slammed into the two-headed model; it crumpled and went under the taxi’s wheels.
The bridge across the Chicago River was just beyond the crossing street. Even from more than a block away, Vick could see the raccoon-sized watchdog rake Little Daisy to the blacktop just as she reached it. She was up again an instant later, but the much bigger watchdog pounced. Its jaws snapped closed.
Tara let out an agonized, warbling scream as Little Daisy’s back half was crushed inside those steel jaws. Daisy struggled, pushing against the watchdog’s cone-shaped snout with her front legs, but she couldn’t break free. The watchdog swung its head, shaking her like a chew toy, then dropped her mangled body to the bridge’s walkway.
Daisy didn’t give up. Her back end crushed, she dragged herself with her front paws, inching toward the railing.
Ms. Alba, who had just crossed the street, cried out, “Get her!” as Daisy gripped a rusted steel crossbeam and hoisted herself over the foot rail blocking her from the water. The watchdog lunged just as Daisy, trailing severed wires, tumbled into the river.
Ms. Alba threw her fists in the air and howled in frustration.
Vick wanted to enjoy the moment, but he couldn’t. Ms. Alba hadn’t won, but they’d lost Daisy.
“We have to run. Now,” Vick said. Ms. Alba was at the bridge railing, peering into the deep black water of the Chicago River, but Vick had no doubt she was going to set her watchdogs on them as soon as she got over the shock.
It started to rain.
Vick grasped Tara’s arm and pulled her back the way they’d come. Tara dug in her heels, whimpering, not wanting to leave Daisy.
“She’s gone, Tara. We have to run or we’ll die.” Vick wiped tears from his cheek, then tugged harder.
Something finally clicked inside Tara. She stopped resisting and started running.
A police car passed, its blue bubble flashing. Vick wondered how long the police had been watching the chaos from a distance, on Ms. Alba’s orders.
They stopped to rest in the overhang in front of a Wendy’s. It was pouring. Vick was soaked down to his socks.
“Where are we going?” Tara asked.
“Back to the apartment where we slept last night.”
Tara grabbed his arm. “No. We can’t go there.”
She was right. They wouldn’t be safe once the rough characters squatting in that abandoned building realized Daisy wasn’t there to protect them. They were back where they’d started when Mom died. Nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
“Back to the Salvation Army, then.” Vick felt a surge of dread at the thought of going back to that shelter packed with men smoking cigarettes, stealing, fighting.
Tara grabbed Vick’s hand and dug her fingers in until it hurt. “That place is horrible. I don’t want to go back there. Let’s go back to the church. Please.”
Without Daisy? Torch would beat Vick to a pulp for some of the snide comments he’d made.
You want her to fart “Jingle Bells” while she works?
No, bad idea.
“We’ll find somewhere new. Another roof. We can hide there until things settle down.”
“No.” Tara let her legs drop from under her so Vick was supporting all her weight. “No. Not another roof.”
“We can’t go back to the church. They don’t want us without Daisy.”
“They do want us. Yes, they do.” She dropped to the ground, her hands balled into fists and eyes squeezed shut. “They do.” She was going into complete meltdown mode. Vick couldn’t blame her. His windpipe felt like it was closing by the second, each breath making a familiar squeal. His inhaler was in that apartment. He’d been stupid not to carry it with him at all times.
They weren’t back to where they’d been when Mom died—they were much, much worse off than that. Back then they didn’t have Ms. Alba to worry about. Vick leaned against the big window of the Wendy’s and slid down until he was sitting next to Tara, who was screaming and thrashing. He thought he should cradle her head so she didn’t hit it on the concrete, but he didn’t have the strength, just didn’t have the strength to reach that far. He was done. He had nothing left.
Four teenage girls came out of Wendy’s. They stared at Tara. Or maybe at Vick. He looked over his shoulder and saw others inside the restaurant gawking at them.
He closed his eyes. “Please help us. Somebody please help us.”
One of the teenage girls set her French fries beside Vick before heading off.
The rain kept pouring down. Tara went on screaming. Vick kept his eyes closed, wanting his mom to come and take care of him. What he would give for one hug from her, a word of encouragement whispered in his ear.
The phone in his back pocket rang. Vick had forgotten about it, and suddenly realized Ms. Alba might be tracking them with it. He pulled it from his pocket; the screen immediately expanded to show Ms. Alba walking briskly, with Stripe trailing behind her, holding an umbrella over her head.
“Now you’ve got nothing to bargain with, nothing to protect you, and I’m angry. Good decision to turn down my offer?”
She waited for Vick to answer. He kept his mouth shut.
“I don’t think so. I put a two-thousand-dollar bounty on each of you. You’re both in bigger trouble than you can imagine.”
She disconnected.
The street began to spin. Vick wasn’t getting enough air; he felt like he was about to pass out.
A bounty?
A couple of twenty-something guys with tattoos and shaved heads came out of the restaurant. Vick dropped his chin and stared at the pavement. They had to get off the streets, find somewhere to hide.
Hands trembling, Vick snapped the phone card in half and tossed it to the ground. “Okay. We’ll go to the church.”
Tara went on wailing. She hadn’t heard him over the noise she was making.
“We’ll go to the church!” he shouted.
It was like shutting off a faucet. She stopped immediately, and then sprang up from the pavement. “North will be so happy to see me.”
He probably would. The rest of them, not so much.
Tara knocked on the door. Vick leaned against the wall, his breath coming in a tight squeal.
“Who is it?” It was Rando.
“Tara and Vick,” Tara called.
There was a sharp bang on the door from the inside. “You’ve got to be k
idding me. Now you show up? Get lost.”
“Get out of the way.” East’s voice this time. “Move. Out of the way.”
Locks clicked, bars slid free. The door opened a few inches.
“Alba put a price on your heads. Word is spreading online.”
“I know. Alba called to tell me,” Vick said.
The door opened wider. East took his arm. “Come on.”
“No.” Rando got between them and blocked the door.
Torch, who was standing right behind Rando, said, “They’re as good as dead. From the way he’s breathing, Vick there sounds like he may beat the bounty hunters to it. You bring them in here and Alba finds out? She’ll put a contract out on us. I’m not risking my neck because he screwed up.”
“Because you never screwed up,” East said.
Torch poked his own chest. “This ain’t about me.”
“If we turn them away, they’ll last about two hours,” East said. “You know that.”
Torch spit on the floor, then wiped his mouth. “That’s their problem.”
Rando, who was still blocking the door, didn’t say anything.
This was exactly what Vick had expected. Bullies—that’s all they were. “East said I had you all wrong, that once I got to know you I’d see what good guys you were.” It was hard to speak with his lungs so tight. “I knew Daisy was the only reason you wanted us to stay. That’s why we didn’t.” He turned and took Tara’s hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Tara asked.
“Just…let’s go.” Vick had no idea where to go, where to hide. East had said they wouldn’t last two hours. He believed her.
“Hang on,” Rando called after them.
Vick kept walking, down the hall and into the stairwell. He had nothing more to say to Rando.
There were footsteps on the stairs behind them; when Vick reached the chapel, Rando fell into step beside him.
“I’m not saying you’re right about everything you just said, but maybe you have a point.”
Vick wanted to pick up his pace and leave Rando behind, but he couldn’t walk any faster. He could barely breathe.
“You can crash for a couple of days if you want.”
Tara slowed. “You hear that? We can stay.”
“No, they can’t.” Torch was following a few paces behind them. East and North were behind Torch. It was sort of like a parade, only lamer, and no one was smiling.
“East is right,” Rando said. “If we turn them away, we might as well shoot them ourselves. I don’t want that on my head.”
“You take them in and you won’t have a head.”
Vick pulled Tara along, steering her toward the big double doors that led to the street. He could hear the rain outside. It sounded like applause.
Rando grabbed Vick’s shoulder and twisted him around so they were facing each other. He narrowed his eyes. “If you go out there, your sister’s as good as dead. Don’t be an idiot.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Tara said. “Vick, don’t be an idiot.”
It was hard to think straight when he couldn’t breathe. There was no getting around it: he was having a full-blown asthma attack. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus.
He kept seeing Daisy, dragging her front end off that bridge. It was like he’d lost another family member.
Tara pried her hand loose from his. “Well, I’m staying. If you don’t want to, fine.”
“If they stay, I go,” Torch said. “And I take my equipment with me.”
Rando turned to Torch. “Come on, man, don’t be a ratbag.”
The words seemed to take some of the air out of Torch. He turned his head, spit, and then raised his gaze to give Vick a withering look. “If anything happens to either of my friends because of this, I’ll collect the bounty myself.”
They paraded back to the basement, this time with East leading the way. She looked at her phone as she walked. “Alba has fifty people dragging the river. They have nets across it every couple of blocks.”
That meant they hadn’t found Daisy. Not yet, anyway.
North fell into step beside Tara. “I’m sorry Daisy died. I cried when I heard.”
“Thanks. She liked you a lot.”
In the basement, East sank into the mattress beside little North. “Now. Tell us how Daisy could do all those amazing things.”
“I’ll tell you.” Tara looked at Vick. “I found the chip, so I get to tell them.”
Vick shrugged. Evidently Tara thought telling them was some sort of special treat. He sat on the floor and leaned up against the wall, trying to breathe.
“I found this chip in the dump—a special chip, like nothing I’ve ever seen. I checked out the programming on my handheld and even I couldn’t follow it.”
“That’s why Alba was searching the dump,” Vick added.
“How did Alba’s crew make something like that?” Rando asked.
“They didn’t, dummy,” Tara said. “If they made it, they wouldn’t want it back so bad, because they could just make more.”
“So they stole it,” East said. “They were going to reverse-engineer it and make more, only someone accidentally tossed it in the trash.”
“Who’d they steal it from?” Rando asked. “It had to be some major tech company.”
Vick had been trying to figure out what that chip was since he found out about it. Daisy had been like no other robot he’d ever seen. The chip was something very new.
“I know exactly what it is.” Torch tapped on his phone.
“Do you?” East sounded skeptical, or maybe just annoyed because Torch had made such a big deal about Vick and Tara staying. “Why don’t you fill us in there, Sherlock?”
Torch expanded his screen so they could all see. It was a discussion thread on a website called Military Tech Underground. The heading was “Military Testing New AI Soldier.”
“If you’re in the business of building weapons, it helps to keep tabs on what the big boys are up to.” Torch tapped his temple. “Gives you new ideas.”
He read the discussion thread out loud, stumbling on some of the bigger words. The military had been using robot soldiers for a decade, but they had to be embedded in human platoons, because like all robots, they were stupid. There were rumors that a new generation of artificial soldiers was being tested. They could carry out missions independently. Vick tried to imagine an entire platoon of robots. Robots led by other robots. It was a scary thought.
“So Daisy was a soldier.” Tara choked up and started to cry again. Vick choked back tears of his own. There was no way he was going to cry in front of these guys.
“That’s why she was such a good fighter,” Torch said. “That’s what she was programmed to do. Plus repair herself, if she got damaged in the field.”
So now they had a good guess about where Daisy came from. What good was that? She was gone.
A wave of despair rolled over Vick. How were they going to survive this? They couldn’t hide in this basement forever, and as soon as they showed their faces on the street, they were dead. He felt like he was breathing through a straw. He needed his inhaler.
He looked at East. “I have to go to the place where we stayed last night. There’s medicine there I need.”
“Yeah, you don’t sound so good,” East said.
Rando stood. “I’ll get it. Where is this place?”
Vick started to answer, and realized he didn’t really know. He thought he could walk to the neighborhood and maybe the right street, but he hadn’t paid attention to where the building was, because Daisy knew, and she was always with them. “I don’t know. I’d know it if I saw it. I guess I have to go myself.”
“I’ll go with you.” Rando grabbed a ratty gray jacket with a hood and tossed it to Vick. “Put this on and keep your head down. Hopefully no one will recognize you in the dark.”
They walked the first few blocks in silence. It was hard for Vick to talk, plus he didn
’t have anything to say to Rando.
Rando finally broke the silence. “You still pissed off about the fire escape?”
“I just—” He paused to take a wheezing breath. “Like to keep to myself. I appreciate you letting us stay and everything.” Walking was making it even harder to catch his breath. “I just feel more comfortable. Being on my own.”
Rando nodded. “I can respect that.”
They went back to walking in silence, but Vick felt like he needed to say something. Rando had made an effort, now it was on Vick.
“Where’d you learn to make watchdogs?”
Rando looked up at the night sky, as if the answer was written in the stars. “Mercy Home for Boys and Girls. Vocational training in robotics repair. They wanted you to have a way to make a living when you left.”
“When did you leave?”
Rando turned his head to spit into a puddle. “Eleven. The city cut the funding. One Friday the lady in charge called an assembly and told us we could stay if we wanted, but the power was gonna be cut on Saturday, and it wasn’t coming back. And neither was she.”
“Seems like we all got kicked out of somewhere. East’s own parents kicked her out.”
“Is that what she told you?” Rando asked.
The words startled Vick. “Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing.” Rando pointed his flashlight. “Do any of these buildings look familiar?”
In the third tenement building they tried, Vick recognized an empty, torn-open suitcase they’d had to step around to climb the stairs. “This is it.”
They hurried to the third floor, tossed Vick and Tara’s stuff into their backpacks sitting empty by the door, and were out of the apartment in less than five minutes.
On the staircase, Vick took a hit from his inhaler. Almost immediately, his chest loosened and his windpipe relaxed. He should have asked Daisy to get him more medicine, instead of taking a ride on the Ferris wheel.
Rando, who was ahead of Vick, stopped halfway down the last flight of stairs.
A guy was standing at the bottom holding a length of rope. He was in his twenties, with a long ponytail poking through the back of a Cubs cap.
Watchdog Page 8
