Maladapted

by Richard Kurti

  It was only willpower that kept Tess going.

  After half-an-hour of pain her body settled into a rhythm, her breathing steadied and her legs found a fluid momentum.

  Now running on autopilot, she could finally think…

  To the west, a massive bank of black clouds was edging closer: snow. She needed to find shelter before that came or she’d be in deep trouble. Yet for all the menace in the clouds, Tess felt a strange sense of peace.

  As she ran on, she knew that she had never been so vulnerable. If she twisted her ankle, or didn’t find food, she would die out here. And yet the dangers were no match for the exhilarating sense of freedom.

  All her life with Revelation she had lived in fear – fear of the unknown, fear of change, of the future – and everything she’d done had been an attempt to escape from that fear. But now, faced with the total indifference of this raw landscape, Tess realized that she could never escape it. Fear was all around her, waiting for her at every turn. But if she looked hard enough into its dark heart, she could still find freedom.

  An hour later, she came to a frozen stream. She stamped her feet on the glistening ice until it cracked, then hacked out a hole and scooped handfuls of water into her dry mouth. It was so cold and clean, it seemed to rush into every last cell of her body.

  She stood up and looked at the mountain range stretching into the distance. This was where she belonged. It felt so right—

  Until 4 dots moving on the horizon jolted her heart.

  Please … no.

  She stared at the dots, willing them to be nothing more than wild animals.

  But they were too organized and too relentless.

  They were men.

  Moving steadily towards her, never breaking formation, closing with deadly intent.

  They could only be assassins. P8 or Revelation? It made no difference now.

  Tess screamed with frustration. She’d dropped off the networks; she’d left no trace. How the hell had they found her?

  She glanced up at the approaching dots. Why wouldn’t they just let her vanish? She was no threat to them out here. She would never be a threat to them again.

  But killers didn’t listen to reason.

  She would just have to keep running.

  Tess turned, leapt across the frozen stream and bolted.

  She would not let them catch her.

  She would not.

  81

  Cillian strode down the boulevard listening to the emergency sirens screaming in the distance. Police and fire vehicles thundered towards the plumes of smoke belching from the Downtown skyscraper.

  It was just as Tess had said at Gilgamesh: P8’s security was built for intruders, not traitors. Which had made it easy for Cillian to wreak havoc…

  As soon as the elevator was above ground level, he had activated the emergency stop, then scrambled through an escape hatch in the ceiling, emerging into the central core of the building where massive electricity cables ran alongside giant pipes that fed the genetic labs.

  Now Cillian knew what he was capable of, everything seemed effortless. He ripped the pipes from the wall, splitting them in 2 with his bare hands, releasing the volatile chemicals. Then he shorted the power cables and outran the ballooning explosion that followed.

  Once fire was raging in the heart of the building, the security doors automatically unlocked and he was away.

  Cillian didn’t glance back at the plumes of acrid smoke. All his focus was on freedom. But as he walked, he realized that everything seemed different now. It was as if he’d been reborn inside P8, and he felt a confidence, an invincibility, that he’d never known before.

  Others seemed to sense it too. Instinctively pedestrians moved out of the way as he walked, glancing warily as if he was a surge of disruptive energy.

  He checked Gabrielle’s smartCell. More security updates pinged onto the screen. Oblivious to the fire now tearing through their headquarters, the assassins were closing in on Tess. They’d been offered helicopter support but had turned it down. They knew their target was heading for the mountains which meant the only way to flush her out was the old-fashioned way: on foot.

  It meant Cillian still had time.

  82

  The victim chose himself.

  Cillian had been waiting by the traffic signals for less than a minute when he saw the modish man on a motorbike pull up. It was a steel blue Benedetta Overdrive, and it was clearly the man’s pride and joy, as he couldn’t resist glancing in the mall windows to catch his reflection astride the sleek, powerful machine.

  Probably some fashion vlogger who got kickbacks for promoting the next big thing to a million followers, Cillian mused. And now he was flaunting his success by showing the world that he could afford to ride a gas-guzzling Overdrive because the super-tax was small change.

  Yes, this one deserved to lose his motorbike.

  Cillian waited until the signals were just about to change. He watched the vlogger click into first … eyes focussed on the red light … hand revving the throttle … enjoying the distinctive engine sound…

  And Cillian made his move.

  Impossibly fast.

  In a split second he was standing in the middle of the road.

  “What the hell—?”

  Cillian plucked the vlogger from the motorbike and slammed him onto the tarmac.

  Before the Overdrive could even start to topple, Cillian caught it, roared the engine and climbed on, as he spun it in the opposite direction.

  “NO!”

  Cillian looked over his shoulder to see the vlogger scrambling to his feet. “It’s mine!”

  “Take the Metro,” Cillian said. “Save the planet.” Then he opened the throttle and sped away, leaving the vlogger with nothing but the distinctive engine roar of the Benedetta Overdrive ringing in his ears.

  The highways were mainly used by hauliers, and the snowploughs kept them clear 24/7 because it was trucks that kept the Provinces alive, delivering everything that couldn’t be downloaded.

  Right now though there wasn’t a truck in sight, which meant Cillian had the Spine Road to himself.

  He scrolled through the menus on the Overdrive’s dashboard, selecting everything that would make his life easier: vehicle-tracking Off, auto-gear change On, gyro-stabilization Active.

  Then he crouched low over the fuel tank, opened up the throttle and relished the incredible sense of speed, as he rode towards the mountains.

  83

  In the wide open snowfield, Tess was easy prey and she knew it.

  No matter how many times she changed tack, the 4 black dots doggedly followed, until finally at her wits’ end, she slumped to her knees. Running wasn’t going to work. They were never going to let her go.

  She had only one chance left: take the fight to them. The saw-toothed ridge was really close now. That would be her battleground. She’d lure them in and fight on her own terms.

  Which meant she needed a gun.

  Tess’s eyes scanned the horizon…

  A few kilometres back she’d crossed a lonely set of tyre tracks heading east. She’d been running too hard to care where they led, but now she realized they may be the quickest way to a weapon.

  She set off around the base of the ridge at a steady pace, and after a quarter of an hour intercepted the tracks again, followed them through a narrow gulley and emerged to see 3 tractors working their way slowly up and down the mountain foothills. It couldn’t be a farm – the landscape was too hostile and the only buildings were a few temporary cabins clinging to the hillside.

  As she got closer Tess saw that they were planting trees, hundreds of trees in neat, straight lines, probably to satisfy some international carbon quota.

  She couldn’t see any people. All the hard work was being done by the satellite-controlled tractors. The lead one was patiently drilling holes, the second plucked saplings from a crib and drove them into the ground, while the third tractor towed a machine which packed each hole with compos
t and fertilizer.

  A 4×4 was parked outside one of the cabins, inside which the technicians were keeping warm, and beyond that were various storage units.

  Hugging the landscape, Tess looped around to stay out of the line of sight, then dropped down and snuck into the largest storage cabin.

  Any space that wasn’t taken up with tractor spares was given over to huge pallets of food and crates of beer. It looked like the crew was going to be on the hillside for a while.

  Tess stuffed her pockets with energy bars, then rummaged deeper into the supplies, prising open lockers, until she found the weapons rack: a couple of shotguns and 3 sniper rifles. Not the most obvious tools for planting trees, but essential for anyone working this far out. She knew that there had been a return of scavenging wolf packs from the north, and in a remote place like the mountains you could find yourself in real trouble.

  She tried each weapon in turn. As she slid the bolts and checked the sights Tess could feel her training clicking back into place. Finally she settled on a Koch sniper rifle, but just as she was loading her pockets with ammo the door behind her swung open—

  “You came a bloody long way to steal a gun.”

  Tess spun round and saw a man with close-cropped hair and a weathered face staring at her. She swung the rifle up to prevent him stepping any closer, but the man just shrugged. “Come on … you haven’t even had a chance to load it.”

  Tess held her aim, braced for the man to attack.

  “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?”

  “Don’t even ask.” She edged back, trying to give herself time to load the magazine.

  “Perhaps I should raise the alarm, then.”

  “I really wouldn’t do that,” Tess warned.

  “There are 3 of us in the cabin—”

  “By the time they come, you’ll be dead.”

  The crop-haired man held her gaze. “Look, what kind of trouble are you in?”

  Tess froze; she’d been fighting the world for so long, she wasn’t sure how to react to a few kind words. She looked the man up and down. He reminded her of one of the farmers from her old village. He’d probably got this job because he knew the land as only someone who’s grown up on it can.

  “Some men are hunting me,” Tess replied.

  “How many?”

  “4. They’re going to kill me.”

  Crop-Hair nodded thoughtfully. “What have you done?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “But who’s in the right?”

  Images flashed across Tess’s mind: the carnage of the Metro bomb, the horrors of Gilgamesh, Blackwood’s bloody corpse lying in the cathedral crypt, the cruelty of P8.

  “I don’t even know how to answer that any more,” she said quietly.

  “Well … do you deserve to die?”

  Tess shook her head.

  “Look, I’ve got a radio—”

  “That won’t help.”

  “We could call the police.”

  “It’s beyond the police.”

  The man pointed at the rifle in her hands. “You really think you can stop these men with that?”

  “I can try. If I get up to the ridge, find a place to ambush them. Take them out one at a time.”

  “I’ve heard worse plans.” Crop-Hair nodded. “But if I let you go, how do I know you won’t just kill me as well?”

  “You don’t. But I won’t.”

  Neither moved a muscle. Tess and the man just stared at each other. Then slowly a grin crept across his face. “That’s not such a bad answer.”

  And he stepped aside, clearing the way to the door. “Make sure you take plenty of ammo.”

  Tess grabbed 2 more boxes off the shelf and stuffed them in her pocket.

  Keeping her eyes locked on Crop-Hair, braced for any twitch of muscle that would signal an attack, she made her way to the door. But the man just stood there with his hands in his pockets.

  “Good luck,” he said as she stepped outside into the cold wind.

  84

  Getting unexpected help from the total stranger lifted Tess’s spirits.

  With the Koch rifle slung across her back, she scrambled up the rocks into the belly of the saw-toothed ridge. A few minutes into the climb she stumbled on the remnants of an ancient track worn into the granite.

  Perfect.

  She bolted along the path, putting real distance behind her, zigzagging higher and higher—

  CRACK!

  An echoing gunshot pulled her up sharply. Tess span around, hoisted herself onto a narrow ledge and peered down…

  The 4 assassins were fanned out across the encampment, guns trained on Crop-Hair and his co-workers, who were slumped on their knees, hands behind their heads. Further down the hill the tractors carried on diligently planting trees, oblivious to the danger.

  Tess could hear the killers shouting at their hostages, demanding answers, but getting nothing. Furiously one of them lashed out, kicking Crop-Hair in the face, sending a spray of blood across the snow.

  Enough.

  Tess plucked the Koch from her back and trained it on the clearing. The autofocus sights locked onto each of the assassins in turn: 2 men, 2 women.

  The older woman unholstered her pistol and strode menacingly towards Crop-Hair. She asked him something, he shrugged. She yelled at him, but still he said nothing. Brutally she jammed her pistol into Crop-Hair’s face and started counting down.

  Tess breathed slowly and half-squeezed the trigger. Data illuminated the rifle sights: distance, wind speed, trajectory correction.

  She designated the assassin’s head as the target.

  And fired.

  The sound of the rifle shot cracked across the landscape, the assassin’s head jerked with the impact and she toppled backwards, falling like a tree into the snow.

  Immediately Tess tried to pick off another one, but the killers were already running for cover.

  Crop-Hair and his colleagues seized the moment of chaos, scrambled to their feet and dashed to the 4×4. They clambered inside, gunned the engine and skidded away down the hillside.

  The camp was tranquil again.

  Nothing moved except the industrious tractors.

  Tess swept her rifle left and right, searching through the sights, but the assassins were well-hidden. Right now they’d be scouring the side of the ridge with infrared binoculars, looking for any trace of her. She knew the smart thing was to keep moving, but she also knew she’d never get a better chance to kill them than this.

  So she hung on, waiting for them to move, willing them to reposition. If they wanted to hunt her into the ridge they’d have to cross a small strip of open ground; all Tess had to do was stay calm and fast, then she could pick them off.

  A flurry of movement as one of the assassins bolted from behind a storage cabin. Tess panned the rifle, trying to hold him steady in her sights, as he dodged from side to side—

  But the range data refused to settle.

  No time to wait—

  Override the numbers—

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Shots peppered the ground just behind the killer.

  Tess adjusted.

  Crack!

  The target stumbled, gripping his leg in agony.

  Tess lined the sights up on his chest to put him down for good—

  When suddenly stone splintered all around her, as bullets ricocheted off the rocks. Tess recoiled, swinging back behind a boulder as another hail of bullets shattered home.

  The running assassin had just been bait to make her reveal her position and she’d fallen for it.

  Quickly Tess crawled away from the boulder, slithering on her belly until she was back on the path and could run higher.

  Following the track was risky. It was the most obvious route, but now survival was about speed; she had to get away from her last position as fast as possible.

  As the path veered left on the final ascent to the ridge, Tess glanced down again at the tree planta
tion. There was a trail of blood in the snow from the assassin she’d wounded. He was dragging himself by his hands, trying to get back to the cover of the cabins. She could hear his cries of pain, calling out to the others, begging them to help, but they refused to break cover and put themselves in the line of sniper fire.

  Suddenly the wounded man’s screams became more panicked as he realized that he was now lying directly in the path of the planting tractors, which were doggedly pressing on with their daily quota.

  Frantically he screamed out, begging for help, but still the other gunmen ignored him.

  And the tractors were stopping for no-one…

  The first one bumped slightly as the front tyres crunched over the man’s body, mangling his hips, then a terrifying howl rang out as the drill bored down through his torso.

  Tess couldn’t watch any more. She turned away, but she’d paused for a moment too long—

  Shots rang out, high velocity rounds impacting the rocks around her, showering the air with lethal stone shards.

  Searing pain cut into her head.

  Tess slumped back, cradling her face in her hands. She could feel blood pouring from the lacerations. Her eyes were burning and her vision was clouded by a chaos of swirling reds and blacks.

  She tried to open her eyelids, but every blink was agony, like dragging sandpaper across her eyeballs.

  Eyes clamped shut, she groped her way back from the edge, crawling on hands and knees until she could feel the smoother rock of the path.

  Her hands searched the boulders until she found a pocket of snow. Grabbing as much as she could, Tess held the snow to her face and let it melt against the warmth of her skin, trying to wash the stone splinters from her eyes.

  She looked up, willed herself to focus.

  But it was useless.

  Her vision was gone. She could barely see the path, let alone defend herself.

  85

  Climbing blind was madness, but Tess didn’t have a choice. The assassins would have seen she was injured and be hard on her heels.

  So she staggered on, arms outstretched, trying to avoid stumbling and falling off the mountainside. But she knew this couldn’t end well.