My hands had a mind of their own. They gripped the levers so tightly that if my gloves had been off, my knuckles would have been bright white. “I’ve only seen two,” I told Daze. “But never up this close.”
“These storms happen in the South because the rocks and dust caught in the upper atmosphere are not uniformly spread out,” Case said in an irritatingly calm manner, like this was all completely normal. “There are pockets where the mass is thinner or even nonexistent. If there’s a big enough void for a substantial amount of time, electricity can build up.”
“How could you know something like that?” I asked. There was no real way of telling where the rocks were or weren’t, as they were occluded one hundred percent of the time. “Nobody has seen past the cloud cover since the meteor struck.”
Case shrugged as a white shock of light rocketed out less than a hundred meters in front of us, arcing down toward the ground. “I know”—he leaned back in his seat—“because electrical storms are common in some pockets of the South. And if you apply logic, the only thing that makes any sense is that there’s no iron buildup where they occur.”
“But my point”—which was completely awesome—“is that we can’t know for sure. You’re just guessing, and even if there are empty spaces up there, they have to be continually moving and shifting, so it would be nearly impossible to pinpoint a particular pattern.”
“True,” he agreed, but not before I saw him flinch as a strike blinked out of the clouds in front of us. He wasn’t immune after all. Though I did appreciate the tough façade. If both of us were freaking out, things could take a quick turn. “But from what I’ve seen, they move in reliable patterns, either because of the wind or possibly atmospheric pressure. From my hometown, you can witness a storm in the same location in the sky each season.”
Suddenly, Daze’s arm shot into the space between us as he asked, “What’s that?”
“Where?” I said. “What do you see?” I’d been too focused on the clouds to look at much else.
“That big building on the ground. It looks like some kind of—”
Case lunged toward the controls, his hands gripping mine painfully as he yanked the lever upward, shooting us up impossibly close to the electricity-filled clouds. “What the hell are you doing?” I shouted, trying to shoulder him out of the way. It didn’t work. He swore as he kept increasing our altitude, not answering me. “Case!” My voice became panicked. “You can’t take us into the clouds. We could be hit by debris falling from above. Plus, there’s a fucking storm swirling around us.”
Cloud flight was off-limits for a number of reasons, but mostly because you couldn’t dodge what you couldn’t see. Small pieces of iron caught in the atmosphere fell from the sky often enough for it to be an issue. They could be anywhere. And when the craft was moving at such a high speed, even encountering something tiny could be cataclysmic.
“We have to take our chances in the clouds,” he ground out. “A pulse storm is better than flying over that.” He nodded downward as his grip increased. Seven began to be enveloped by the first tendrils of vapor. It would be only seconds before she was fully consumed.
I glanced down at the large building we were passing at a quick clip. It was intact. Judging by Case’s actions, it was a serious threat. Right as the clouds began to obscure it from view, Case’s death grip on my hands began to ease.
“You can let go now.” My voice was short.
Case leaned back in his seat, finally relinquishing control. “You were supposed to punch in the flight path before you took off.”
The craft was now fully emerged in the wispy whiteness. Around us, lightning blinked every few seconds. “If you remember, you’re the one who flew the first three hours,” I said, my attention laser-focused on us not dying. Visibility was minimal, so I wouldn’t have very much warning if something appeared in front of us. I wasn’t fond of those odds. “If it wasn’t logged correctly, it’s your fault.” Every craft for the past hundred years had been manufactured with a flight-path recorder. It allowed the pilot to access any coordinates you’d flown before, program new ones, measure distances, and more. Back when satellites had been operational, once the flight path was set, the craft could follow it automatically. Without that automated capability today, we had to keep our eyes on the monitor, which would blink if we were off course. I’d seen no blinking to indicate such a thing. “And can you please explain to me what we’re running from?”
With his head braced against the seat, Case said, “Remember when I told you about the militia I was involved with?” Tension radiated off of him. “The one that recruited me when I was sixteen?”
“Yeah.” No story was ever good when it contained the word militia. Case had been recruited under false pretenses, and he’d been horribly abused. He’d been saved by a man named Dixon, who’d wiped out the militia, saving only Case.
“Not all the members were killed.”
“And that building is tied to them?”
“Yes. The remaining members joined up with another militia, and over the last six years, they’ve grown.” He closed his eyes. “That’s their headquarters. How we got here is beyond me.”
The pulse storm was thankfully dying down, or we were flying out of it. Either way, relief was a welcome emotion. “The flight plan was your responsibility,” I reiterated.
He tilted his head toward mine, his eyes tired. Flight fatigue could definitely be setting in. “You’re right. I know the route by sight. When we changed places, I meant to tell you to log it in. I wasn’t paying attention. You’re not that far off the route, less than twenty kilometers, but it was enough to bring us within their sights.”
“Do you think they spotted us before we reached the clouds?” I asked.
“Time will tell. But my guess is yes. They have spotters.”
“How worried should I be?” I asked. “On top of, you know, already worrying about a chunk of iron punching through the craft and tearing it to shreds.” My eyes were locked outside the windshield, where the horizon would’ve been visible if we hadn’t been ensconced in clouds. It seemed we’d made it clear of the storm. I hadn’t seen any more pulses in the last minute or so.
“Fairly worried.” He ran a hand over his face.
“Okay, well,” I started, “we can’t go back in time. What’s done is done. Hopefully, they didn’t spot us. But even if they did, I’m getting us out of the clouds now. I don’t want to take any more chances.” A muffled female voice came from the backseat. The status reader was trying to get a message out, but nobody had asked her a question. I cocked my head, picking up a few words. “What did she say?” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Daze brought her forward, taking off the top of the box. “Did you ask her something a while ago?”
Daze shook his head. “No.”
“Did you hear what she said?”
“Only at the end. I think she said something about a craft.”
That’s the word I’d heard, too. I’d begun to lower us out of the clouds when Case reached over and stilled my hand. His grip wasn’t as painful this time, but still irritating. He glanced at Daze. “Ask her to repeat it.”
Daze raised the box closer to his face. “Please repeat your last sentence.”
A moment later, she said, “An unknown craft is in the vicinity.”
I glanced at the dash. Nothing was blinking to alert us that there was anything in the area, which meant it was more than three kilometers away. Either that, or whatever it was had all its radio frequencies shut down.
“How far away is the craft?” I asked the status reader.
She replied immediately. “Closing in at seven kilometers.” The words closing in weren’t what I wanted to hear in this particular situation. Before any of us had a chance to react, the reader said, “Six point five kilometers and closing.”
That meant the craft was moving extremely fast. Faster than we were.
I accelerated, pushing Seven’s speed above two hundred kil
ometers per hour, which was her max without help.
“We’re going to have to engage a hydro-boost,” Case stated calmly, like it would be normal to boost in a place where we couldn’t see. I was about to respond that he was out of his mind when he held up his hand. “A boost is the only way to get out of range. They know we’re here. They will shoot this craft down as soon as they can, kill us if the crash doesn’t, take our supplies, and spit on our corpses.” That wasn’t a pleasant thought. “Once we’re outside of radio range, we land and shut down our frequency outputs and hope for the best.” His eyes were tight, his gaze unfaltering. “Hitting a stray rock would give us a better chance of survival than encountering them.”
From the egg, “Six kilometers and closing.”
“Shit.” I had to make a decision. Case was right. My hand slapped down on the appropriate button that would launch us out of there.
The explosion started instantaneously as the hydrogen chamber positioned at the back of the craft rocketed us forward, the clouds blurring past. After ten more seconds of white-knuckle flying, Case reached over and switched the entire dash panel off.
Everything went dark.
We could still fly, but we had no readings, nothing to tell us which direction we were heading, or if there were any crafts in the area. Those were all determined by radio frequency.
He had the nerve to grin. “Even though we’re going dark, we have something that they don’t.” He turned to Daze. “Check and see what the status reader has to say.”
Daze’s voice came out as shaky as my insides felt. “Are there any crafts close by?”
I held my breath. The hydro-boost was starting to slow, but without a digital readout, I couldn’t tell by how much.
The egg answered, “There are no crafts in the area.”
Exhaling loudly, I made a move to lower altitude and get us the hell out of the clouds, when Case reached over to interfere again, but this time I was ready.
My arm shot out, my hand encircling his wrist like a vise. My attitude was running toward feral, adrenaline making me hyperaware. I yanked him close. “Hey, Case, do you know how to sew a hand back on after it’s been severed by a laser? If the answer is no, then you need to back off.” His eyes met mine, the ends tightening slightly. “I couldn’t care less if you think my piloting skills are subpar.” My jaw closed, the rest of it coming out in a growl. “Give me a verbal command, and I’ll follow it. Touch the controls again, and I will take out my Gem and shoot you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He eased back, and I let go of his arm.
After a moment, he said, “Before we reveal ourselves, head straight for a few more minutes. Once we descend, there should be a short mountain range within sight. Not sure which side it will be on. As soon as we’re over it, we need to land and stay put for the next twelve hours. I know a location that can keep us sheltered.”
I felt like objecting, insisting on continuing to our destination, because we had a schedule to keep if we wanted to aid Mary. But decided against it. It was probably a good idea to show him that I would keep my word, and protecting ourselves from this militia was a priority. If we were shot down or killed by them, there was no helping anyone.
“Fine,” I said. “But keep your hands to yourself if you value working limbs.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Once we were finally out of the clouds, my heart began to beat regularly once again. The rush of adrenaline, along with everything else, had left me a little lightheaded and shaky. But I wasn’t about to announce my condition, because I was smart like that.
From behind me, the egg stated, “Female at one meter in distress. Heart rate one hundred fourteen beats per minute. Blood pressure one hundred seventy-four systolic, ninety-two diastolic. Rapid respiration. Nutrition and hydration deficient. Seek aid immediately.”
I frowned. The egg just outed my heightened anxiety like it was her job to snitch on me. “Why did she say that?” I grumbled. “Nobody asked her for any information.”
Daze shrugged, still wedged between our seats. “I don’t know.”
“Lockland said that the status reader could learn things on its own,” I said. “What have you two been chatting about all this time?”
Daze hemmed and hawed for a good ten seconds before answering. “I swear, I was just trying out a few things. I didn’t mean to access her full capabilities!”
I sighed. I would’ve run a hand over my face if both hands weren’t already busy flying a craft at top speed. “And accessing her full capabilities means…what exactly?” How did this kid figure out the intricacies of a complicated status reader in under four hours? That was the real question.
“She has LiveBot software.”
“Daze”—my tone was weary—“we’re going to need more than that. I’m not Darby. I know LiveBot technology had the ability to mimic human behavior, and human robots that used it were called LiveBots or Humanoids. But that’s about it.” Case gestured to the right, and I turned to follow his prompt.
“Um,” Daze hedged once again. “It means I gave her some commands, and she adjusted.”
“How exactly did she adjust?” I dropped down toward a patch of ground where Case was indicating he wanted me to set down, lowering altitude accordingly. It was a fairly small swath of land ringed with large, blackened trees. I hadn’t reengaged the radio frequencies yet, as I didn’t want to take any chances of being discovered, but I was seasoned enough to do it without readouts.
“I gave her the freedom option,” Daze finally replied.
The status reader quipped, like she was part of our conversation, “All things, living and nonliving, should live freely.”
I raised a single eyebrow as far as it would go and turned toward Daze, who wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You set her free? As in, she can do and say what she wants?” I was a little astounded that something so small and round and polymer even had the capacity to do such a thing. And what did free exactly mean? “Can’t you just unfree her?” Knowing she could insert herself into our conversation at any time was a little unsettling.
“I tried,” he replied meekly, finally tilting his head up. “Sorry, Holly.”
I engaged Seven’s landing gear, bringing her down softly. One small bounce and we were grounded. I shut her off. “Was that all the murmuring I heard back there?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I got a little carried away. I’ve read about LiveBots before, and when I asked her if she was one, she answered yes. LiveBots, before the dark days, were made to look just like us. They had lifelike skin and hair and everything.” His voice grew animated, his words rushing out. “And once their software was paired with a particular person and language, they adapted really fast. At least that’s what it said in my dad’s computer. There were pictures of them, too. I wish I could’ve seen one in real life. That would’ve been so cool.”
I shifted in my seat, turning to glance out the window at the towering trees. They were all dead, of course, but they were the biggest I’d ever seen. Hard to believe such majestic beauty had been reduced to nothing but black skeletons. “You’re going to have to work on shutting her up when necessary,” I told Daze as I lifted the door. “She’s a distraction and could get us into trouble at the wrong time.”
As if on cue, the status reader said, “Holly, female, stats normalizing. Heart rate and blood pressure within acceptable range. Nutrition and hydration remain deficient.”
I gave the kid a look, inclining my head just a bit so he understood my meaning, and got out of the craft. If he couldn’t control the status reader, the status reader could disappear for a while. I was fairly certain I heard Case covering up a chuckle as he exited, but I decided to ignore it. If the egg could share my vitals with the world, it could certainly share his.
Daze nodded vigorously as he followed me out, the box clutched against his chest. “I will. I promise. I named her Maisie.” He continued after he extracted himself from the craft, “After my mom. Her name was Maylynn. E
verybody called her Maisie. My dad’s name was Robert. Like my first name. I was named after him.” He stuck his chin out, daring me to counter his choice of moniker for the reader.
“Maisie’s a good choice, kid. I’m sure your mom would be honored.” I turned in a circle, glancing up. Over the tops of the trees, crags of a small mountain range were visible. I’d never seen a mountain up close before. The peaks weren’t as massive as the ones on my wall screen at my residence in the canals—one of the only working screens in the city, that I knew of—but it was still unbelievably impressive. I was momentarily lost in my own world.
Maisie fixed that. “I detect three humans within three meters, zero humans within one hundred meters, several invertebrates, and no crafts.”
“Thanks for that,” I muttered, thankful she’d switched topics.
“I kind of like it,” Case cracked as he moved off to the right. “She’s calm and sensible, and she’s adequately anticipating our needs, feeding us useful information.”
Cool rain pinged my helmet, coming down harder than a drizzle. I flipped the visor down with a snap. “Calm and sensible?” I called after him. “Rather than excitable and irrational, like a real person?” In a lower tone, I muttered, “Of course she’s calm and sensible, she’s a robot.” The trees seemed even larger as we moved closer. “Where are we? Please tell me there’s another underground shelter nearby.”
Case tossed over his shoulder, “Even better, there’s a cave stocked with supplies right through here.”
Before following him through the trees, I walked around the back of the craft and opened the trunk compartment, grabbing out a large micro-carbon fiber backpack, durable yet pliable, and a jug of water. I nodded to Daze, who was smart enough to have already strapped his pack onto his back. “Here, take this.” I handed the kid an extra thermal blanket. If Case wanted anything else, he’d have to come back and get it.
My pack included another blanket, a graphene aerogel headrest, a small ultrasonic whisk to heat up water, a change of clothes, and some other miscellaneous items. Daze’s pack was mostly filled with food in the form of the packs of dried flakes we’d found at the barracks. Just add water, and you had instant protein mush.
Danger's Race Page 3
