by Jaxon Reed
He focused on his neural link again and said, “Captain, this is Bryce. We’ve awakened Jacques Renard. You need to tell everybody not to fire on him. Let him destroy the tanks, first.”
“I hear you, Detective. We’re watching him take one out right now.”
She patched his virtual screen over to the scene and Bryce glanced at it while running toward the stairwell. Jacques made an outward thrust with his hands, knocking over the nearest bot. Then he spread his palms out and the unit exploded in a ball of fire.
Kim said, “I’ll pass the word. I don’t think our people are going to touch him right now, anyway. ‘The enemy of my enemy,’ you know.”
Bryce jumped over a pile of debris and hit the door to the stairs. Parker rushed after him. They hurried up the steps two by two.
The entry level looked obliterated when they stepped out of the stairwell. Bricks and debris lay scattered about. The body of a soldier was draped unceremoniously over a pile of rubble. Smoke drifted through the air, and out of the hole in the floor.
Outside, another explosion rocked the building. Bryce and Parker ran through the huge gash in the wall where the door once stood, around a fallen chunk of metal and random bot parts, in time to see a third tankbot go crashing down. Jacques stood barefoot in a hospital gown, staring at it, his arms spread wide. He made a motion with his hand and the bot’s ordnance blew up, sending streaks of fire flying through the air like rockets.
Servos whirred on the fourth bot as it tried to pivot its turret toward the boy. He reached out with his hand and its engines stopped.
For a moment, nobody heard a sound other than flames from spent ammunition and destroyed bots.
Bryce flipped his hand at his virtual screen, scrolling through a series of camera angles provided by the police drones up above. He stopped on one zoomed in on Jacques’s face. He watched it carefully.
Parker said, “He seems to be concentrating.”
Bryce nodded.
She said, “What do you think he’s doing?”
Bryce said, “I’m not sure. Looking for its weak points?”
“Why would he need to do that? He’s already destroyed the other three.”
“Hm. I think you’re right. Maybe he’s . . . trying to take it over?”
They watched as Jacques suddenly broke out in a boyish grin. He jumped, and sailed much higher and farther than normal. He made a perfect arc, his hospital gown fluttering in the wind, and he landed on top of the bot’s turret, his bare feet slapping against the metal.
He laughed and made a twirling motion with his finger. The servos came alive again and the giant robot turned in a circle, marching back through the parking lot and toward the broken fence. On the bot’s backside somebody had posted a bumper sticker: “Go Army! Join the National Guard.”
Parker said, “What’s he doing?”
Bryce looked at her with a sudden flash of realization.
He said, “You know, my wife had a crazy dream years ago. And now that I think of it, I think she was dreaming about today. And if that’s the case, he’s headed for the Capitol.”
“We’ve got to stop him before he gets there, then. Do you know what that thing he’s riding will do to the building? Not to mention all the people.”
“If the dream was accurate, we’re not going to stop him before he gets there. But, she didn’t mention anything about him riding a tankbot, either.”
They watched as the tank kicked aside the broken carcass of the guardbot and continued through the fence.
Sergeant Diaz’s voice came over the comlink. He said, “I have a shot, Captain. Permission to take it.”
As if hearing the transmission, Jacques turned to look over his shoulder and made a flicking gesture with his hand.
Bryce and Parker heard a loud Pop! from the rooftop.
“Arrrgh!”
Kim said, “What happened, Sergeant?”
“My scope just exploded!”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but my gun’s a mess right now.”
Kim said, “Okay, do not engage. Keep an eye on him. Do not fire unless he tries to harm a civilian. It looks like he’s in control of that thing. But if he uses it to shoot something up, take him out. At that point, give it everything you got.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
13
Uniformed officers swarmed into the parking lot of the smoking building. A siren chirped and the first of several ambulances floated down. Paramedics rushed out as soon as it landed and hurried over to injured soldiers and police. Within minutes a dozen ambulances landed, their flashing red lights dancing across the parking lot.
Chief Jones’s hologram appeared suddenly. He looked all around at the destruction, the medical personnel, the soldiers and officers. Turning, he found Bryce and Parker staring at him.
He said, “Judging by the looks on your faces, Detectives, I take it you’re not on any emotion-controlling drugs.”
They both shook their heads.
The Chief grimaced. He said, “Unfortunately, I don’t know that we have anymore. That boy has drained all our resources. Our people are going to have to face him without any Hexenhammer. And that concerns me.”
“If it’s any consolation, Chief,” Bryce said, “They said something about an Army battle force headed this way. I think it’ll be either AI or remotely controlled. Or both.”
Jones’s eyes grew wide. He said, “I see. Well, patch back in to Dispatch and follow the suspect. But stay at a safe distance. I’m going to get on the line with Colonel Clark and see if we can coordinate somehow.”
The Chief’s hologram winked out. Bryce and Parker glanced at each other. She looked and felt strung out, her raw emotions transmitting directly into his mind. He stretched his back, working out tight muscles from his own stressed body.
Parker said, “We’ve got to follow him?”
Bryce said, “I guess we do.”
“Were you in that dream of Melody’s? The one where he shows up at the Capitol?”
“Yeah. I was with him.”
“Then I guess we’ve got to follow him.”
He nodded and they walked toward his car on the far side of the parking lot. Thankfully, it had not been in the path of the tankbots.
They climbed in and shut the doors. He directed the car’s computer to shift into emergency mode and took over manual control. Then he focused on his neural implant and tied back in to Dispatch. Parker did the same and joined in on the call.
They sailed up and out of the parking lot, heading east back toward the city.
Kim came on the line and said, “He’s heading through Bee Cave right now, Detectives. We’re maintaining distance but trying to brainstorm some ideas. Sergeant Diaz thinks his snipers may have a shot.”
Bryce said, “I’m not hopeful that will work, Captain. Especially after what happened to Diaz a few moments ago.”
“He thinks we can get a shot at a distance, outside the suspect’s range. It worked during the rock concert.”
“He wasn’t expecting it during the concert. He’ll be expecting it this time. Don’t get me wrong, Captain, we can try. I’m just not at all certain it’ll work.”
“Understood, Detective. I’m still going to direct SWAT One to fly ahead and prepare a shot.”
Bryce nodded, resignedly. He said, “Tell them he’s headed for the Capitol Building. All units should prepare for an encounter there.”
“How do you know this, Detective? Did the suspect tell you something?”
“In a way, yes. Take my word for it, Captain. I was right when I called the assault on the building earlier. I’m right now, too.”
“Okay, Detective. I don’t doubt you. We’re still going to prepare for any eventuality—”
“The military is sending a task force, Captain. They’re going to be at the Capitol, too. Everybody is going to converge there.”
“Okay. And how do you know about the military’s plans?”
“Major
Hamilton told me. But you should be getting a call from the Chief any minute now, telling you the same thing.”
A few moments of silence followed as Kim moved to another line.
When she came back she said, “Okay, Detective. That was Chief Jones. You were right, the Pentagon has activated a large battle force. Governor Nix is raising a fuss, saying this is a National Guard issue and she should be in charge of any troop engagements. Personally, I think she’s got a point. But right now the Pentagon is spooked about those tankbots that went rogue. They’re using that as justification for federal control at the moment.”
“That’s fine by me,” Parker interjected. “The Army is going to have a much better chance at stopping that bot than we are.”
Kim said, “That’s not what I’m worried about. What I’m worried about is, if the boy is powerful enough to take over a tankbot, surely he can handle whatever else they throw at him.”
“Let’s give the Pentagon a chance,” Bryce said. “I bet they have a contingency plan for this sort of thing.”
Kim said, “And if they don’t?”
“If they don’t, Parker’s right. They still have a better shot at stopping him than we do.”
-+-
Jacques gripped a service handle on top of the tankbot as it rushed down the street. Its metallic steps crunched on sidewalks, and left chunky divots in asphalt on the streets. Several terrestrial cars crashed as drivers tried to avoid the monstrosity. Jacques laughed in glee as the bot stepped over vehicles cluttering up an intersection without even pausing in its stride.
He held the handle with one hand and let his other float freely behind him as his body swayed with the rhythm of the robotic steps.
“I’m a cowboy! Yeehaw!”
Ahead, a cluster of cars crowded another intersection with a large truck bringing up the rear. Jacques squinted, syncing his eyes with the tankbot’s electronic targeting system.
He made the bot stop. It squatted to stabilize its cannon and fired a single round at the back of the truck.
BOOM!
The truck erupted into a fireball. Jacques laughed in delight.
The bot straightened and started running again, jogging to the side of the burning wreck and rushing through the intersection, causing several cars to collide with one another.
Jacques looked down and saw a boy his age and size walking a dog, about to cross the street. The boy pulled back out of the bot’s way just in time, yanking hard on the leash.
Jacques yelled down at him, “Nice shirt!”
He made a pulling motion with his free hand and the boy’s top ripped up over his head and sailed over to Jacques.
“I need some pants and shoes too!”
Jacques made another pulling motion and the boy found himself sitting on the sidewalk in his underwear, his clothes flying after the tankbot.
-+-
“Suspect has fired his weapon.”
“Copy that. All units, be advised. Shots fired. We have a terrestrial vehicle on fire at the intersection of . . .”
“Medical personnel needed. Multiple fatalities. Other vehicles are catching on fire. Multiple collisions . . .”
Bryce tuned out the radio feed from his neural interface and focused on the tankbot running down the street below.
He and Parker floated high above and behind Jacques. Far enough, Bryce hoped, to stay out of his psychic range.
He felt Parker grimace in the seat beside him as they witnessed the mayhem below.
“That was bad,” she said. “How much more ammo do you think he has?”
“I don’t know.”
They floated over the intersection, watching the cluster of frenzied activity as people tried to pull drivers and passengers from burning vehicles.
“Doesn’t it bother him that he’s spreading death and destruction?” Parker said.
Bryce took a deep breath and said, “It pains me to say it because he’s from my own flesh and blood. But, yeah. He’s a psychopath.”
They watched as the tankbot ran down a long street, dodging cars, rushing through intersections.
Parker said, “Well, that’s not your fault.”
“I woke him up back there. I could have let him stay asleep, and we wouldn’t be going through this right now.”
“That tankbot was killing everybody in sight. You did the right thing, giving him a chance to live. You know that, don’t you?”
Bryce did not answer. She looked over at him, a look of concern on her face.
She said, “It’s not your fault for what he’s doing. You can’t go around blaming yourself for his actions. For any of this. You didn’t even have a hand in making him, let alone raising him.”
“Sometimes,” he said, “a man feels responsibility. Especially when it’s his own kid.”
Kim came back on the line. She said, “We’re going to try Diaz’s idea of a long-range shot. Seems our best bet until the Army gets here.”
Bryce frowned, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He reached into the air to open another virtual screen and flipped through the available feeds from Dispatch until he found a drone shot showing a closeup of Jacques on the tankbot.
Parker said, “Think a sniper shot will work?”
He shook his head. Both watched as Jacques flew down the street on top of the tankbot, with a huge grin on his face.
“Where’d he get those clothes?” Parker said. “He wasn’t wearing that a minute ago.”
-+-
Diaz stood on a rooftop with the other members of his SWAT team. The black-armored police were perched along the edge of some high rise apartments lining the old Texas Loop 1. When it was first built in the 1920s the road followed the old Missouri Pacific Railway on the west side of town, thus leading to its persistent nickname: MoPac.
Neural networks crackled as Dispatch spoke in their ears.
“He’s headed down Bee Cave Road straight toward your position, Sergeant. ETA one minute before he hits MoPac.”
“Copy that, Dispatch.”
Diaz looked over at a stout young black man standing nearby and said, “Give me your 50, MacLeroy.”
The other man’s face dropped, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.
He said, “Aw, Sarge. Come on, man.”
“Hand it over.”
Reluctantly, MacLeroy offered the big rifle to Diaz, who took it with both hands. He sat down near the roof’s ledge, positioning the long gun’s bipod and activating its scope.
“Okay, I see him. I’m going to wait just a few more seconds. I should have a good shot.”
Collectively, his team members held their breath. A moving target at that distance would prove difficult to hit, even with the gun’s advanced optics.
Diaz followed the target with the scope as it grew ever closer. The tankbot approached them almost straight on, but at a slight angle. Diaz followed him from a higher position, and the barrel tipped down ever so slightly as Jacques neared their location.
The scope’s computer locked on Jacques’s chest. In small print to the side, the distance between the gun’s muzzle and the target clicked ever lower, in both metric and American measurements. Diaz’s iris twitched to the numbers steadily clicking down: 2642, 2641, 2640 . . .
Diaz said, “He’s in range.”
Jacques came steadily closer, the tankbot running at full speed toward the intersection with MoPac.
The scope’s computer calculated the projectile’s drop. Wherever the crosshairs were aimed at the moment of firing, there it would hit, at least for a static target.
Diaz made a quick mental calculation and pulled the crosshairs slightly in front of Jacques. He took a deep breath and held it so his breathing would not affect the shot. Mentally, he checked his heartbeat and began squeezing the trigger, timing the action to complete between beats.
The firing mechanism broke smoothly, without jostling the muzzle and affecting the point of impact.
BANG!
The heavy bullet, measu
ring about half an inch in diameter and over an inch long, shot out of the barrel and crossed the distance to the tankbot in about half a second.
It stopped in the air abruptly, a few feet from Jacques’s chest.
“Did you see that?” MacLeroy said. “The bullet just froze. Like it hit a wall or something.”
Jacques noticed the bullet floating in the air before him. He scanned the road ahead, found the high rises, looked up and began swiveling his head. He picked out the SWAT team on the rooftop. Diaz saw him smile through the scope. He made a twirling motion with his fingers, and the bullet shot back.
Diaz flew backward, the .50 caliber bullet sunk deep into his skull. Blood rushed down his face.
His team let out collective curses and ducked below the ledge.
MacLeroy crawled over and checked on Diaz. Blood flowed freely from the hole in his forehead.
He said, “Shots fired! Officer down!”
“I saw it,” Kim said. “All units hold your positions. Do not fire on the suspect. I repeat, do not fire on the suspect!”
-+-
Up in their car high above the highway, Bryce and Parker watched events unfold. On Bryce’s virtual screen, a drone’s camera tracked Jacques. Parker kept an eye on the feed showing the SWAT team on the roof.
Parker said, “How did he do that? You can’t just stop bullets midair. Can you?”
Bryce furrowed his brows and said, “I think he set up a psychic shield of some kind. Sort of like a bulletproof layer of energy. Anything flying into the field gets stuck.”
“Okay. How was he able to send that bullet all the way back to our sniper?”
“Well, we know he’s very good with electronics. SWAT uses electronic scopes. He got his . . . senses . . . on one back at the building and at the airport. He knew what to look for, even at a distance. But yeah, the power to send a bullet back at so many feet per second. . . Well, the kid’s far more powerful than anyone realized.”
Parker watched as somebody covered Diaz’s bloody face with a SWAT jacket. Bryce felt her twinge of sadness as she swiped the air, searching for another video feed.
