Kevin followed the path around a corner and skidded to a halt. The mess hall was gone. In its place was burning wreckage.
A crowd was starting to gather, including a handful of bots, one of which Kevin recognized as 23. What had happened? A bomb? Among the crowd were the orphan girls, all except Wex. One girl was screaming and pointing at the remains of the mess hall. “Wex was inside! The bots blew it up!”
Otter rushed toward the wreckage, but 23 stepped forward and grabbed him as he ran past, roughly stopping him in his tracks. “It is not safe,” said 23.
“Wex is in there!” Otter said, grabbing 23’s arm. “Let me go!”
“There has been an accident,” said 23. “It is not safe to enter right now.”
“It wasn’t an accident!” said the girl. “Two bots were working on the mess hall gridlines and then they started running and then it exploded!”
“I repeat,” said 23, “there has been an accident, a malfunction of the power grid—”
Otter struggled against the bot, which continued to hold him tight. “I said let me go, you damned bot!” said Otter. His face was bright red, a mask of exertion and rage. He balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it into a leather patch on 23’s cheek. 23 staggered back a step, its head whiplashing, but it didn’t release Otter. There was a crackle of energy, a brief flare of light from 23’s hand, and Otter fell to the ground, convulsing.
“I regret having to take coercive measures to restrain you,” said 23.
There was a communal growl of outrage from the gathered crowd, which pressed forward, and the five bots gathered closer to each other, facing the people. “The remaining Island robots will be arriving shortly,” began 23, and then someone threw a rock that hit 23 in the face, and that was the trigger that released the Islanders’ anger.
The crowd rushed the bots, and the air crackled with energy from stun blasts. Men and women went down, but there were too many Islanders for the bots to stop, and they were overpowered, disappearing under a tangle of flailing, screaming, growling people.
Kevin saw 23 taken down by four men. They were kicking it and one was pounding a rock, repeatedly, on 23’s flattened face. “Stop!” Kevin screamed. He tried to push his way through the crowd, but he was knocked down in the chaos, someone’s elbow landing hard on his forehead.
Kevin tried to stand, but he kept getting jostled. Through the crowd he saw 23’s arms reach up and twitch spastically, then flop lifelessly to the ground, while the Islander continued to pound its face with the rock. “Stop!” Kevin cried again, finally pushing through the crowd and approaching where 23 lay on the ground. Its arms gave one last twitch, and then the bot stopped moving completely. Kevin felt sick as he took in the bot’s flattened face. It was over.
CHAPTER 36
NICK RAN FRANTICALLY THROUGH THE CAMPSITE, CALLING OUT HIS sister’s name, and Lexi’s, and Farryn’s. Finally he heard Lexi say, “Over here!” and he rushed over to the medic, dizzy with relief.
His relief vanished when he saw Farryn. He was lying on the ground, asleep or unconscious, his head in Cass’s lap. He looked pale, and his breathing was shallow, and his right leg was bandaged from the knee down.
Lexi stood and hugged him tightly. Cass remained on the ground with Farryn, but she did give him a brief, weak smile.
“What happened?” he said. “How bad is he hurt?”
“A sphere bot,” said Lexi. “I shot it, and one of the rebels shot it too, and it exploded on Farryn.”
“He shielded me from the explosion,” said Cass. “The medic said he’s going to lose his leg.”
“Rust,” whispered Nick.
“What about you?” said Lexi. “What happened? How many bots were there?”
“Five or six,” said Nick. “We took them down.” He no longer had any desire to rehash the battle.
Nick wanted to hear more about Farryn’s injury, but Ro strode up and grabbed Nick roughly on the shoulder. “Come with me,” he said. He nodded at Cass and Lexi. “You two also.”
“What’s going on?” said Nick.
Ro started walking without answering. Nick and Lexi followed, and after Cass carefully extracted herself from Farryn, she joined them. Ro led them back to the creek bed, where a group of ten rebels, and Erica, were waiting. Two men were holding Erica by her forearms. Her jaw was set hard—she looked so angry that Nick wouldn’t have been surprised if she tried to take on all the rebels herself. All their packs—Erica’s, Lexi’s, Farryn’s, Cass’s, and Nick’s—lay piled in a heap, opened, their few belongings scattered in the dirt.
“Scan them,” said Ro. “Thoroughly. Slowly. Don’t miss an inch. Nick first.”
“I’ve already been scanned,” said Nick. One of the rebels stepped forward with the scanner. He bent down and began very slowly moving the scanner up Nick’s left leg. “You don’t trust me?” said Nick. “Without me, the bots would have killed all of you today!”
“Or maybe without you, the bots would never have found us in the first place,” said Ro. “I saw that bot hold its fire. It had you dead, and then it scanned you, and it didn’t take the shot. Why is that?” He pointed at Cass. “And your sister, who you rescued so easily from the bots . . . Odd that the bots find us as soon as she enters camp, isn’t it?”
Nick shook his head. It didn’t make any sense, it was true, the bot not killing him. And Cass, the way she had been just waiting for him outside the City . . . He hated himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t help it . . . Was she helping the bots track them somehow? Maybe a chip, an undetectable chip, that she didn’t know about?
“I’m not a traitor,” he said. “And neither is my sister.” The rebel finished scanning Nick’s left leg and started on the right. “I hate the bots as much as you do,” said Nick.
“Maybe,” said Ro.
The scan had moved on to Nick’s torso. The man slowly dragged it over Nick’s chest, then his back, then his neck and head, lingering over Nick’s bot eye. Finally he pulled the scanner away. “Clean,” he said to Ro.
“See?” said Nick.
“Now the sister,” said Ro.
The rebel began scanning Cass. “Don’t even think about collaring me again,” Cass said.
“Be quiet,” Ro said. “I lost three more fighters today, and I’ll do whatever I have to, whether you like it or not.”
“If you collar my sister again, you’ll regret it,” said Nick, taking a step toward Ro. Two rebels grabbed his arms and pulled him back. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Ro gave a short, humorless chuckle but otherwise ignored Nick.
Cass was carefully scanned and declared clean. “Scan her again,” said Ro. The rebel repeated the scan. “Still clean,” he said.
Lexi went next, and then it was Erica’s turn.
“You know I’m clean, Ro,” Erica said. She appeared calm, but Nick thought something else flickered on her face—was it fear?
The scan moved slowly up the front of her right leg, then down the back, then moved to the other leg. Erica shifted her weight. “Don’t move,” said the man running the scanner. He ran it slowly up her left thigh as Erica watched. The man paused, and Erica stepped away. “I said don’t move,” he said.
“I told you I’m clean!” she said.
“Do we need to hold you down, or will you stand still?” said Ro.
Erica crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Ro, then after a moment stepped back to the scanner. The rebel returned to her left thigh, holding it in one spot, staring at the display. “Ro, this is interesting,” he said, beginning to stand. Erica kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling backward, and turned to run. She made it past two rebels taken by surprise at her quickness, but one of the faster men grabbed her before she slipped past, and quickly two others had grabbed hold and pushed her to the ground. One set his knee on the back of her neck, another held her arms, the third pinned her legs.
“Let me up!” she growled.
Ro helped the man who had run
the scanner to his feet. His lip was swollen and cut, his cheekbone bruised. “What did you find?” Ro asked him.
“Left thigh, close to the surface. Scanner doesn’t recognize it as a bug, but it is reading as something foreign.”
“Bone implant, from an old injury,” said Erica, her voice muffled by the men on top of her.
Ro raised an eyebrow at the man who had been kicked. The man was gingerly touching his face. He shook his head. “No, don’t think so,” he said. “Too close to the surface.”
“Turn her onto her right side and hold her tight,” said Ro. He nodded at the man. “Show me the exact spot.”
“Enough!” said Nick, struggling against the men holding him. They were too strong.
“Stay out of this, Nick,” said Ro.
Erica fought, grunting and growling with the effort, but there were too many rebels holding her down and they managed to push her onto her side and hold her immobile. She tried to bite one man’s forearm, but she couldn’t move her head enough. “Help me,” she said, managing to twist her head enough to look at Nick.
Nick had to do something. He couldn’t just watch this happening. He pulled hard against the grip of the men holding him, but a third man joined them and he was pinned tight. He gritted his teeth, helpless. “Let her go,” he said.
Ro unsheathed a hunting knife—Erica’s knife, Nick realized, and sliced open the side of Erica’s pants, revealing her thigh. The rebel ran the scanner over the exposed skin, then pointed at a spot halfway between her knee and hip. Without hesitating, Ro cut into Erica’s leg and gouged the tip of the blade underneath the skin. Erica cried out and tried to thrash, but she was held tight. Blood flowed down her leg, and Ro moved the blade carefully, gently, digging into the wound, and Erica groaned, and then with a flick of Ro’s wrist a small square piece of metal popped out of Erica’s leg and landed on the dirt.
Ro picked it up and cleaned it off on Erica’s pants, then handed it to the scanner, who held it up to the light. He studied it for a moment, then said, “Yup, it’s a bot comm chip. Seems to have some sort of coating on it, must be to cloak it, but it’s definitely a chip.”
Nick stopped struggling. He stared down at Erica, at her leg seeping blood, at her face, now pale, being pressed into the ground. Had Lexi been right all along?
“Stand her up,” said Ro.
The men hauled Erica roughly to her feet. Erica stood straight, returning Ro’s stare. “Well?” he said.
“The bots have my brother,” she said. “He’s all I have left, and they’ll kill him if I don’t help them.” She spit blood on the ground; her lip had been split. “Any one of you would have done the same.” She turned to Nick. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Nick couldn’t find any words. He was angry, shocked . . . but a part of him understood. You had to do what you could to protect your family.
“No,” said Ro. “There’s not one of us who’d be a traitor for the bots.” He nodded at the men still holding her arms. “Tie her up. Collar her. I’ll interrogate her later, and then we’ll execute her, but right now I just want her out of my sight.”
CHAPTER 37
ONE BOT STOOD GUARD OUTSIDE THE GOVERNOR’S WORKSHOP. WHEN IT saw Kevin running up, it initially raised its arm menacingly, then lowered it and stepped to the side. “The Governor will see you,” it said. Kevin rushed inside and down the stairs.
His grandfather was pacing back and forth, his hands behind his back. “17, report,” he said. “17! 12? Report!”
“Dr. Winston,” said Kevin.
The Governor ignored him, continuing to pace and bark orders to the air.
“Grandfather!” said Kevin.
Dr. Winston stopped walking and looked over at Kevin. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s a mess, Kevin. An absolute mess, from what I can tell. What have you seen?”
“The mess hall blew up, and 23 wouldn’t let Otter try to save Wex, and now everyone’s rioting.”
“Yes,” said Dr. Winston. “I don’t know what happened with the mess hall. Hopefully Captain Clay can get everyone under control before too much damage is done.”
“They’re going to rip apart all your bots,” Kevin said. “Or the bots are going to kill the Islanders.”
Dr. Winston slammed his hand down on the table. “No! My bots won’t kill anyone. They will stun, but they won’t kill. It is impossible. I wouldn’t make that same mistake again.”
“Well, then, all your bots are going to be destroyed,” Kevin said.
Dr. Winston sat down heavily on his workbench. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he said quietly. He rested his palms on his thighs and hung his head. Kevin thought he suddenly looked very, very old.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Kevin said, struck by the urge to say something to comfort this old man, his grandfather, who looked like he was about to cry. “The Wall’s basically done, right? You don’t really need the bots’ help anymore. I mean, this was bound to happen—people and bots just aren’t supposed to be together. . . .”
“But they are, Kevin!” said Dr. Winston, rising up. “They are! My robots were supposed to make things better, to save lives!” He sat back down. “To be useful tools, nothing more,” he said more quietly. “I thought I could do it better this time, make it right in this small little world when it went so wrong in the real world.”
“You can still help make it right,” said Kevin. This was his chance, he knew . . . “Help me. Help me find my brother and sister, and save my mother and father. Your son.” Kevin realized that he had balled his hands into tight fists and his nails were cutting into his palms. He forced himself to relax his hands. “And help us fight back against the bots. You know them better than anyone. You can make a difference.”
Dr. Winston stared at Kevin. Kevin couldn’t quite read the expression on his grandfather’s face—sadness mixed with something else . . . pride? Then his grandfather looked up at the stairway, and touched his ear, and stood. “Let them . . .” he began.
He was cut off by the sound of a rifle burst. The cellar door swung open, and the body of the guard bot, its head a smoking ruin, tumbled down the stairs.
Captain Clay and Grennel came down the stairs. The Captain bounded down the stairs, energetic, strangely gleeful almost. Grennel joined her, his big body seemingly taking up half the room. He had a burst rifle slung over his shoulder, and he was carrying two large backpacks in his hands, which he set on the ground at the base of the stairs. He stood, arms crossed, next to the packs. Blocking the exit.
“What is this?” Dr. Winston said.
“You should have armored your bots,” said Captain Clay. “One full burst in the face, and they’re scrap.”
“Mira,” Dr. Winston said, “what are you doing?”
“One small bomb, a few regrettable but necessary casualties, and boom, we’ve got a riot.” Captain Clay smiled. “And, what a coincidence, it happens just when you’ve finished tinkering with your Wall cloak!”
Captain Clay walked over to the metal cabinet on the wall with the tangle of wires running into it. “I’m getting off your damned Island,” she said, “and I’m putting your Wall tech to proper use. You’ve created the perfect guerrilla warfare device—a cloak that could move units right into the heart of a bot City without the bots even knowing—and what do you use it for? To hide away and cower.” She pointed at the cabinet. “Open it,” she said.
“No,” said Dr. Winston.
Captain Clay unholstered her pistol and aimed it at Dr. Winston’s heart. “I know that the lock is a retina and thumb-print scan. I assume that if I kill you but keep your thumbs and eyeballs intact, I could just drag your carcass over and open it myself.”
Dr. Winston said nothing but after a moment walked over to the cabinet. “This is a mistake, Mira,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.” He pressed his thumb onto a touchpad on the wall and leaned forward, letting a red laser flare briefly over his right eye. The cabinet opened with a click.
Inside the cabinet was a metal cube about the size of a grapefruit. The cables from the wall were coupled to the sides of the cube, and the front edge was a vid screen control panel, glowing white. Captain Clay stepped forward, smiling. “There she is,” she said. “Small little thing, isn’t it?” She pointed the gun at the workbench. “Governor, step away please.”
Dr. Winston moved away from the cabinet and sat on the workbench. Captain Clay began decoupling the wires that ran into the cube. As she busied herself with the wires, Kevin saw Dr. Winston reach down, slowly, very slowly, to the lower shelf of the workbench, and Kevin wanted to say, “No, don’t do that, Grennel will see . . .” But he stayed quiet, and then suddenly Dr. Winston was moving fast, a small pistol in his hand, raising it toward Captain Clay.
There was a crackle and a burst and Kevin saw a flash and felt the heat, and Dr. Winston crumpled to the ground. “No!” shouted Kevin. He rushed over to his grandfather.
“He had a pistol, Captain,” said Grennel, his burst rifle in his hands. “Had no choice.”
Captain Clay looked down at Dr. Winston, who lay sprawled on the ground, his lower back a blackened, charred mess. “Regrettable,” she said, then went back to her work on the cube.
Kevin bent down to his grandfather, who he saw was still breathing. “Destroyed from within, by ourselves,” whispered Dr. Winston, managing, with what seemed like great pain, to slowly turn his head to look at Kevin. “That’s how the bots will end up too, once they become human enough to turn on each other. They can’t replicate . . .”
A trickle of blood flowed from Dr. Winston’s mouth, and Kevin began to cry. Captain Clay finished decoupling the cube, pulled it out of the cabinet, and held it up, triumphantly. “We’re done here,” she said. “Grennel, kill the boy.”
Grennel raised his rifle. Kevin stood and stepped backward until he bumped against the wall.
“No,” said Dr. Winston, his voice a croak. “He’s my grandson.”
Fugitive X Page 17
