by Andy Remic
What to do?
This could not go on, I knew. This was silly, this was all way out of proportion. But what to do now? What to do? It was the old cause and effect – the more SIMs I killed, the more SIMs would come looking until I would finally be caught out. It could not go on forever, and I could only pile so many corpses on my kitchen floor before my kitchen became full.
What to do?
I picked Emmy up and looked around my apartment; I found a wide heavy case, with a padded interior and usually used for the transportation of compu equip. It had been used months previously to transport TEK–Q during a business killing tour, and I lay it down on the carpet and aimed my SMKK and fired eight rounds through its leather side; lifting it up, I inspected the holes and I was satisfied.
I heard boots outside, and my mouth went suddenly dry and I grabbed Emmy and put her inside the case and fastened the lid. I did not like doing this but at least she was now mobile and I could take her with me. I just hoped she wasn’t too afraid.
The boots stopped.
I readied my SMKK.
There was a knock on my door, and this time I wasn’t going to stand around playing games and I opened the door fast and pointed my weapon – what a relief! It was Sullivan standing there with his mouth open, obviously surprised at all the blood everywhere on the landing.
‘What happened, Justice?’
‘A minor grievance occurred,’ said I, and ushered him into my apartment. I closed the door, then tactfully moved across the room and closed the kitchen door. It would not do to have Sullivan spying the Battle SIM corpses – friend or no friend.
Sullivan held up a large bag and grinned. ‘New armour,’ he said. ‘New k legs. Niobium. The lot.’
‘Brilliant!’ said I, and meant it. ‘This is a nice surprise, seeing you here and you bringing my armour over. You must have worked hard.’
‘Anything for a friend,’ said Sullivan, sitting on my settee.
I opened the bag and laid out my new armour on the floor; then, piece by piece, I climbed into it, strapped on my spinal pack, and activated the power. The k leg upgrades hissed and settled. They felt good.
At that moment, Emmy miaowed from her place in the heavy case. Sullivan’s mech eyes tracked on the sound and I smiled softly.
‘Your cat?’ said Sullivan, and scratched his scalp–cropped hair. ‘Have the Battle Bs not been for it yet? For the GOV check? It must be done.’
‘Nobody has been,’ I lied.
‘You want to get rid of her, Justice. It’s bad to own a pet at this moment in time; there are riots in the streets and GOV are not looking favourable on those who own!’
‘I know,’ said I. ‘But she is Emmy, she is my pet, she is everything I have. A true friend.’
‘She is just a cat,’ said Sullivan.
‘No, she is more. It is hard to explain: she fills me with a missing part; a splinter of soul. I was empty without her – she replaces the narco.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Sullivan. ‘Do you want me to call the Battle Bs for you? To remove her? It will have to be soon...’
‘No,’ said I.
‘But you must,’ said Sullivan. ‘It is LAW.’
‘Not my LAW,’ said I.
Sullivan watched me pick up the case and move to the door. He did not attempt to move but his mech eyes clicked and I could suddenly sense the tension in the room, being an Entropy Vet.
‘I will have to tell them,’ said Sullivan softly, and I looked at his middle–aged face and knew that I had to kill him and yet I could not bring myself to do so. He was an old friend. Perhaps the only pep friend I had.
I lifted my SMKK.
‘I’m sorry,’ said I, and I shot him through the knee and there was a crunch of bone; the bullet whumped into the settee trailing tendon lumps and Sullivan screamed. ‘So you won’t follow,’ I explained, and then I was out of my apartment and onto the blood soaked landing with Emmy in my hard case. I walked down the steps feeling adrenaline running low, and I hit injecto and felt quite a lot better.
I emerged into the rain and looked around.
In the distance the bonfire still raged; I set out across the pavement and concrete; people were everywhere, SIMs and peps alike and there seemed to be a minor riot in progress and I knew that the Battle and Justice SIMs would soon be here for urban pacification and it would become a battle zone. I needed to break free...
To my left a window smashed, and a high–pitched siren began its wail; I continued, eyes tracking peps running past on both left and right.
There was a distant scream.
I turned down a dark, ill–lit street and all was quiet; my pace slowed and I could feel confusion at those acts of grievance that had occurred. If only they had left me alone! If only they hadn’t tried to take Emmy...
What to do?
I needed transport, yes. I stopped and looked around, noting the twelve peps and SIMs nearby; they seemed to be travelling somewhere. Possibly to the bonfire. One pep held a dog by the back legs and it was whining pitifully as he dragged it along the ground, and this tore at a chord in my heart. From pets to vermin so quickly? What short memories humans had.
‘You!’ I snarled.
The pep turned, stared at me, his face a question and his eyes clicking in the rain.
‘Yes?’
The first bullet smashed his thigh and he screamed and stumbled to the ground; I placed my case down gently and my second bullet smashed his other leg and he slumped onto his face and moaned and screamed, drooling on the wet concrete. The dog ran off into the darkness, yelping, glad to be free.
‘No no!’ he screamed as I hunkered down before him. I wore my mask of non–emotion. My eyes clicked softly. I could sense other peps approaching behind.
‘Yes yes,’ said I, and my bullet merged alloy eyes with his brain and the whole mess smashed onto the road like a pulp and the pep was still.
‘Miaow.’
I turned, fast; the others had heard the sound and I sprinted to Emmy and turned one way and another; the peps and a couple of Justice SIMs circled me wide and with a scowl I holstered my weapon and folded my arms and waited.
‘Have you got a cat?’ asked one pep, as the circle began to close. There were fifteen of them and their faces were grim; very serious. But then, so was my heart.
‘No,’ I lied.
‘Miaow,’ said Emmy from the case confines and I tilted my head, waited for the first pep to come into range, then gently rolled my neck, tendons cracking.
‘That sounded like a cat,’ he said.
‘It sure did,’ agreed a Justice SIM.
‘Yes,’ said I, rolled back on my left hip and smashed an uppercut to the pep’s chin; his head snapped back and I followed with an overarm smash that left him twitching on the wet road, nose a flat bloody platter.
I leapt, my boot hammering one pep’s head and then they rushed in; but my benefit was that all were enemy now and my fists lashed out and peps went down time after time after time and I followed an uppercut elbow blow with a head butt that smashed a pep’s mech eyes – then I heard the click, that unmistakable lock and load – and my SMKK was out in a flash, track, trigger, a smash of bullets and the Justice SIM hit the ground with blood leaking from his throat and punctured lungs.
All was suddenly still.
I was crouched, tensed, and the enemy had frozen; around me lay four peps and I leapt again, lashed out with a straight punch and took him down. He lay still but he was not unconscious. He was playing dead. I smiled – I was too dangerous for them now and they were scared, but they had started this thing and I had to end it because I couldn’t leave them behind me. Never leave an enemy behind.
There were eight left standing and I aimed my SMKK and took them all out in a hail of bullets and left a ring of corpses on the road. I put bullets through the skulls of unconscious peps and then, checking the cold wet road for peeping interfering bastards, picked up the heavy case with a now quiet Emmy inside and strode
down an alley, and away from the slaughter; it had been necessary, and it had not been my problem or fault, and the guilt was not with me because they should have better known better the grievance of fukking with a Justice D SIM.
*
I walked for an hour down minor streets and alleyways; I was thinking of Snow quite a lot and I wondered what she would be doing and up to. Every now and again I would stop and allow Emmy a breath of fresh air, and she seemed happy enough and I would pet her and stroke her and she would purr. She knew my scent well, I think. She knew I was a friend, and working at saving her life.
I needed to get far away now. Away from the rioters, possibly far out into the country that I had seen so much on TV; and for that I needed some wheels and I reached a main street and waited quietly.
The traffic was light, probably due to riots and the promise of Battle SIMs roaming the streets looking for trouble. A vehicle cruised past and I moved into the centre of the road and fired a line of bullets across concrete and the vehicle screeched to a halt. I pointed the SMKK at the windshield.
‘Out.’
The man, some sort of GOV pep official, held his hands aloft and slowly climbed from the jeep’s cab; the vehicle was quite new and could only have belonged to a privileged individual.
‘What do you want?’ he whined.
‘Your vehicle,’ said I, moving past him and climbing in. I slammed the door, keeping my weapon trained on his face and he was pale, balding. But quite good looking. ‘That’s a nice face,’ said I. ‘You wouldn’t want it full of bullets, now, would you?’
‘You can’t leave me out here!’ squealed the man as I revved the jeep’s engine.
‘Why not?’ asked I.
‘The Battle SIMs will be sealing off the area soon! Listen, I am GOV, an official! I have money! Take me with you, I can get you lots of money! More than a SIM makes in a lifetime!’
I revved the engine. Toyed with the idea. But I decided, What do I need money for? Where I was going, money would only become a hindrance. And besides; I could not afford the time deficit.
‘Good luck,’ said I, and floored the pedal; the jeep’s tyres squealed leaving streaks of rubber and I roared off leaving the pep running after me, shaking his fist and shouting obscenities. I grinned. Trying to bribe me? A Justice D? Hell. That was against the LAW.
As I drove the windscreen wipers thumped a rhythm on the glass and my eyes clicked. Reaching over, I opened the case and Emmy peeked out her head and delicately leapt from the confines. She sniffed around, then jumped onto the back seat and curled into a ball. I reached back, patted her fur, and almost swerved the jeep off the road. Grinning, I decided it wasn’t such a good idea to pet her on the move.
I drove in a direction away from my apartment, and passed several Battle Truks on their way carrying heavy loads of heavy Battle SIMs; reaching out, I switched on the radio and groovy groovy MM was flowing out and I sat back, waiting for the kick but it did not come. I frowned. Hell. What was wrong?
More MM flowed and still it did not kick in. And yet it was MM, pure and simple and groovy groovy; what was happening to me and to my world? To the world I knew and loved and understood?
‘It’s all gone wrong,’ I whispered.
The MM finished and on came the news.
*
...there have been many social grievances throughout many sectors; Battle Ds and Es have been deployed in force and the South State has been sealed off with roadblocks. There has been much violence and force used to quell this violent and non–tolerable uprising against LAW and GOV. The epidemic is now under control and Battle SIMs have roamed the streets slaughtering all rioters discovered. The burning of animals – I repeat – the burning of animals is prohibited under LAW. All animal segregation and destruction will be undertaken by GOV and financed by GOV and there will be no more of this foolish vigilante movement...
*
I switched channels and more groovy groovy MM soothed out, Gluck with his Dance of the Blessed Spirits, but I waited for the kick and again it did not come. I wished, then, wished Holy Jesus that I’d bought some mandrake from Sullivan before I shot him in the knee but it was too late for all of that now, and the mandrake dregs would have to remain –
Oh, for colour!
I cruised the streets, the tyres of the jeep hissing on wet road and I turned down an alleyway, left, onto the main highway and towards East State and hopefully the countryside far beyond: in the darkness, silhouetted against the horizon I could see the faint outline of the dregs over wasteland side and they were haunting me, I could feel it; haunting my veins and mind and soul... the dregs would always be with me and I could not seem to leave their horror visions behind.
Then I saw the road block and I eased up on the pedal. What to do? What to fukking do? Should I bluff my way through as a Justice D? Or had Sullivan, or the man who’s jeep I hijacked, had time to report on me? Where they on the lookout for a SIM of my description? And more importantly, on the lookout for Emmy? Surely they would search all vehicles? No animals would be allowed through and out.
Damn and Hell and Bastard.
I decided; with dry mouth I cruised up slowly towards the block with my eyes scanning furiously. I had, of course, manned such road blocks myself and I knew the procedures. Due to my slow speed approach their position was relaxed – if I had charged my vehicle, then the alert and need for violence would have been instantly obvious.
Several Justice SIMs moved into my path and I cruised towards the Battle Truks; to left and right a heavy mesh fence had been erected between BTs and the buildings; it was through this I would smash. Hopefully.
‘Halt!’ said one Justice SIM. An E, I thought. Bastard outranked me. I’d teach him some manners.
‘Good evening,’ I said, leaning out of the window and punching an SMKK bullet through his skull; then my foot hit the pedal and the jeep lurched at the fence crushing one SIM between the fender and the mesh with a squeal. The steel groaned and the rear wheels started to spin wildly on concrete, but the mesh fence held. Fukk! I hammered into reverse, hissed up the street, and charged my jeep at the mesh a second time, engine howling, speed a mad acceleration –
Suddenly, heavy calibre bullets were roaring and a tyre exploded and the steering wheel was wrenched from my grip; the jeep swerved violently sideways, smashing into a building with a sudden HALT and sending me smashing through the windscreen. I bounced from the wall, fell back, and landed on the hot, steaming, crumpled bonnet and lay for a moment dazed and my loaded SMKK in my trembling fingers.
‘Drop it, motherfukker,’ growled a voice.
I tracked by sound, still stunned. ‘Yes officer,’ I said and shot him in the throat. I heard his body slap on the concrete and I rolled sideways from the debris, into a crouch; looking up, I noticed that one windscreen wiper was still describing a meaningless arc through the air. One headlamp had shattered and the remaining glow illuminated brick and buckled steel and smashed glass. I could hear more voices in the distance and I scanned upwards – bastards! They had a heavy machine gun posted on the roof. It had been this terrible weapon that took out my tyre and thus my jeep.
‘Emmy?’ I hissed, scrabbling inside the jeep and finding the case. I suddenly felt pain lash my neck and shoulder, but I subdued my feelings of agony and managed to coax Emmy from a corner footwell where she cowered. I hurriedly checked her. She was OK and I got her into the case and closed it with a click. I realised. This was her armour. Her shell. Her suit. No k leg upgrades for Emmy, but it was better than nothing.
Coughing on smoke which was now pouring from the jeep’s engine compartment, I staggered away fearing that fire would hit a fuel line; and then I heard a voice shouting and a bright light blinded my mech eyes and they had me, the bastards, they had me.
‘Drop the fukking gun, D,’ screamed a voice. Several clicks followed – I counted six, and that meant six weapons trained on me. And I was blinded. I could not do it. I could not escape.
‘Yes,’
I said, and dropped the SMKK.
‘You’re going to fukking die for this,’ said the voice, and I could hear the anger and emotion; this was another Entropy Vet and he was filled with dreg inside his heart and veins and he would kill me – I knew, I had done it myself – and I could not blame him because we were alike; we were identical in thought and action and reaction.
I sensed the weapon train on my face.
This was the final end, I knew.
And all I could do was stand there in the rain and wait for the bullet.
CHAPTER FIVE
ICE TEARS
THE EXPLOSION LIFTED the jeep and threw it across the street like a toy, blazing hot blue fire and belching thick black smoke; by my very positioning I was saved, and all I could remember was blackness hitting me in the face like a wall and being punched backwards across the street and skidding on concrete and having the world forced into and down and inside of me. And all was finally quiet and still.
I lay there for a while, could hear distant voices and a siren; I groaned, could feel something pinning me down heavy and I opened my eyes, tried to focus and felt dizzy and not right at all. I heaved, and the weight shifted and the Battle E’s corpse slid to the ground beside me, all limp and useless and trailing blood and veins from his torn neck and blasted chest. I eased his weapon from his limp fingers sticky and soft and checked the mag which was full and that was fine with me. I looked up then, could see a trail of fire and debris scattered across the road; Battle SIMs lay strewn in the glittering darkness and I suddenly found myself hoping and hoping for Emmy; for Emmy’s life. I called for her, in a soft voice, but there was no sound.
I pushed the Battle SIM from my legs and groaned out loud as pain screamed in my mind all hot, and my shoulder was broken and went click. Crawling to the wall across small cubes of broken glass, I heaved myself up and to my feet and stood there swaying and looking around.
I was free – for the moment at least.
‘Emmy! Emmy, here girl, ch ch,’ said I and feeling foolish
