by Jack Heath
The road whizzed by underneath his head. He pulled the trigger.
The pistol shivered in his hand and a neat row of holes drilled into the grille of one of the ChaoSonic cars. The shots were good – they should have busted the radiator and dragged the 4WD to a screeching, steamy halt.
The car kept coming.
Six pulled himself back into the passenger seat as the gunner of one of the ChaoSonic cars returned fire, shredding the upholstery on the inside of Six’s door.
‘Why are they still on the road?’ Ace yelled.
‘Armoured engine,’ Six replied. ‘I’m going for the tyres.’
He leaned out again, and fired two short bursts. The Woodpecker sounded like an electric saw. Bullets sprayed into the tyres of the other 4WD, the one Six hadn’t hit yet. The car swerved, but the tyres didn’t blow.
Six pulled back into the driver’s cabin. A flurry of bullets hit the back of the limousine, each with a sound like a hammer against a stone. The glass at the back cracked, but didn’t shatter.
Six felt some satisfaction in that. It seemed Ciull Yu had splurged on a bulletproof limo – not that it had done him much good. But now it was saving Six and Ace’s lives. Stalemate, Six thought. They can’t hurt us, we can’t hurt them.
Ace spun the wheel, and the limo swerved off the highway onto another exit. The mouth of a tunnel reared up before them.
Ace glanced at Six.
Smart, Six thought. The air support can’t get us if we’re underground. ‘Do it,’ he said.
The limo zoomed down into the tunnel, with the two 4WDs right behind it.
Either Allich’s soldiers hadn’t realised that their bullets couldn’t penetrate the limo’s armoured skin, or they didn’t care. Round after round slammed into the back of the limo, filling the cabin with white noise.
Cars drove sideways into the tunnel walls as the limo passed to avoid the chase. As a result, the road ahead of them was filled with civilian vehicles, but the road behind was more or less clear.
That was good, because Six could fire without worrying about hitting bystanders. Bad, because it gave the 4WDs more room to move than it gave them.
‘I can’t outrun them,’ Ace yelled. ‘Not in this thing.’
Six nodded. The limo wasn’t built for speed or manoeuvrability. And they couldn’t change cars, not with the 4WDs so close behind them. The only way to escape was to force them to stop.
A siren reached his ears. He couldn’t see out the back window anymore, so he leaned out the door to take a look.
He couldn’t see anything besides the rushing walls of the tunnel, the two 4WDs, and a couple of civilian cars trying to get out of the way.
‘Nothing on this side,’ he shouted.
Ace checked her wing mirror. ‘Damn it,’ she said. ‘We’ve got cockroaches.’
‘Cockroach’ was the term used at the Deck for the ChaoSonic police force, mostly because of their uniforms – goggles, armour and claw-like gloves.
‘How many?’ Six demanded.
‘Two cars.’
Six cursed under his breath. The cops must have seen them go past and joined the chase. Now that the regular ChaoSonic police were involved, things would be much more difficult. First, they’d be driving supercharged sedans – not armoured, but faster and more agile than what Allich’s troops were driving. Second, although Allich’s soldiers were clearly breaking at least half a dozen laws, not including traffic violations, their CSV numberplates would give them instant immunity. The cops probably had no idea what was going on, but they’d do whatever they could to help chase down the limo.
Another burst of gunfire from one of the 4WDs. The driver must have swerved as his passenger fired, because only a couple of bullets thunked into the rear fender of the limo. The rest of the burst hit the road and the walls of the tunnel. And a white hatchback, smashing the windows, and splattering the blood of the driver all over the inside of the windscreen.
Six stared in horror as the dead driver, an eighteen-or twenty-year-old boy, slumped forwards against the steering wheel with half his head missing. His horn blasted as the car lurched forwards, slid across the shoulder of the road, and scraped to a halt across the tunnel wall.
‘Oh god,’ Ace whispered. ‘No, no, no!’
His only crime was being near you, said an accusing voice inside Six’s head. Another life on your conscience, hero.
Six turned to look at the occupants of the 4WD the shots had come from. They looked grim. He knew what they were thinking: ChaoSonic didn’t like its operatives murdering citizens, since nearly everyone was a customer or an employee or both. If these guys returned to base and reported that they’d lost the suspects and a civilian was killed in the crossfire, they would be fired or jailed. But if they returned with Six and Ace in handcuffs or body bags, they would be okay. They’d report it as mission accomplished, with ‘minimal non-combatant casualties’.
Six could see the determination in their eyes. They had wanted to catch him before – but now they needed to. They had no choice.
‘We have to get out of this tunnel,’ Ace said.
Six looked at her. ‘Ninety seconds until their aircrafts arrive. We’re not safe above ground.’
‘They’re not safe while we’re down here.’ Ace pointed at the civilian cars as they sped past.
‘There’ll be non-combatants on the surface too,’ Six said.
‘We can find somewhere less crowded. We can –’
‘We can’t lose them anywhere less crowded. Our only option is to stop them quickly, before anyone else gets hurt.’
The siren noise moved behind him. Six turned, and peeped out the door. One of the cockroach cars was on his side of the limo now. It was gradually overtaking one of the 4WDs, which was between it and the tunnel wall. And it was gaining on the limo.
‘Gotcha,’ Six muttered under his breath.
He lifted the Woodpecker, took aim, and pulled the trigger.
Both the passenger-side tyres on the sedan popped, and the car swung to the side. It smashed into the 4WD, and they both skidded into the wall. Seconds later they were buried in the traffic behind them.
‘Two down,’ Six said. ‘Two to go.’
He ejected the magazine, and tossed it out the door. By the time it hit the road he had slammed a fresh one into the stock.
‘They’ve stopped firing,’ Ace shouted.
Six listened. She was right. Either they’d finally realised the limo was bulletproof, or –
The passenger of the remaining 4WD was moving. Climbing forwards, leaning out the window. The cockroach sedan was hanging back, wary of suffering the same fate as its twin.
The 4WD passenger held a fist to his mouth. Then he pulled it back. Then started to swing it forwards like a brawler throwing a wild punch. Six recognised the movement.
‘Grenade!’ he yelled as the passenger lobbed the small, dark object forwards.
Ace spun the wheel, and the limo reared sideways, pushing a shiny sports car off the road. The grenade bounced past.
Once.
Twice.
BOOM!
The shockwave slammed Six’s door closed, and blew out the windows on most of the surrounding civilian cars. Air bags appeared in them like giant mushrooms.
So much for worrying about collateral damage, Six thought. If they’re throwing grenades, they must be desperate. They’ll kill as many people as it takes to stop us.
‘You okay?’ Ace was shouting.
‘I’m okay,’ Six shouted back. ‘You?’
She was looking in the wing mirror. ‘Incoming!’ she shouted.
She swung the wheel again as Six heard the grenade bounce along the roof of the limo. It flew off the bonnet and hit the asphalt and the limo swerved aside as the grenade detonated.
The driver’s side of the limo exploded up into the air as the blast hit. Six was thrown against the passenger window. Ace tumbled towards him, but she still had one hand wrapped around the wheel. The limo twisted ar
ound and slammed back down, still the right way up.
Six looked out the window. The car on the other side of the grenade hadn’t been so lucky. It had been blown right up into the air and had landed upside-down, crushing its roof as it slid to a halt.
There was blood. The occupants were dead, or close to it.
Six gritted his teeth. They couldn’t keep dodging grenades. Sooner or later one would get them – it was only a question of how many bystanders would die first.
Think. Think!
‘Next grenade they throw,’ Six yelled, ‘get close to it.’
Ace boggled. ‘Close to it?’
‘Yes,’ Six said. ‘On my side.’
She looked like she was about to say something, maybe tell Six he was insane, but she didn’t have time. The passenger was ripping out the pin with his teeth. Six waited for him to throw it.
The grenade spun through the air, bouncing onto the road, directly in the limo’s path. Ace swerved sideways, but not too much. Six shoved his door open, leaned down, and snatched up the grenade as it sped past.
He held it for a second. One.
‘Throw it!’ Ace screamed. ‘Now!’
Six ignored her. The bomb was cold in his hand. Two.
Then he flung it, not back at the 4WD, but up, as hard as he could. It tumbled up towards the roof of the tunnel.
Six thought he heard a tink as it connected.
The explosion flattened him against his seat and cracked the windscreen. He was so deafened by the roar he barely heard the booming as dozens of titanic concrete slabs fell, colliding in mid-air like asteroids in space, and slamming down onto the road behind them as the tunnel collapsed around the epicentre of the blast.
Six saw the cockroach car screech to a halt, its path blocked by a mountain of grey blocks, before it disappeared from view. The 4WD made it through in time, unscathed by the carnage behind it. It was catching up to them, nearly touching the limo’s bumper.
‘Three down,’ Six said. He pushed a button, and the window that separated the driver’s cabin from the passenger’s cabin descended. He clambered through.
He dropped the Woodpecker and picked up the Raven X59 from the floor. He’d once killed a man with the same model of gun. He hadn’t held one in his hand since.
‘What are you doing?’ Ace demanded.
‘One to go,’ he replied, and punched through the skylight.
The roof of the limousine was slick and shiny. Six kept his limbs spread out, and his left palm flat on the surface so he didn’t slide off. The Raven was clenched in his right. The wind blustered through his hair and clothes.
The 4WD had pulled back, the occupants confused. Six crawled towards the back of the limo, stopping when he reached the rear windscreen. The road flew by below him.
He rose halfway to his feet, crouching like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun. He raised the Raven, and took aim at the driver’s face.
The bullets in the Raven were no tougher than those in the Woodpecker – they couldn’t penetrate the bulletproof glass. But the driver probably didn’t know that. He stamped the accelerator, and the 4WD zoomed forwards. It was going to smash into the back of the limousine and throw Six off the roof.
It was the move Six had been counting on.
He was in motion as soon as the 4WD got close enough. He launched forwards, slamming one foot down on the limo’s rear windscreen, another down on the boot, and then he jumped, arms flailing, legs kicking the air.
The nose of the 4WD slammed into the back of the limo. And then Six landed on its bonnet, right in front of the driver.
The driver braked and swerved, trying to dislodge Six. But Six had a firm grip on the frame of the windscreen, and had both feet flat on the bonnet – he wasn’t going anywhere.
The passenger leaned out, aiming his pistol at Six. Six whirled around and fired two shots, bam-bam, punching two neat 9-mm holes through the passenger’s hand. If Six had used the Woodpecker, the guy would have lost all five fingers, as well as most of his palm and probably the tendons in his wrists.
The passenger’s gun fell to the road and was sucked out of sight.
Six let go of the windscreen. He stood, leaned back, and lifted his right foot. For a moment, he was standing on one leg on the bonnet of a 4WD going more than 150 kilometres per hour.
Then, with all the strength he had, he stamped down on the windscreen.
The bulletproof glass hadn’t been built to withstand this kind of force. It snapped clean in half, falling into the cabin. Six gripped the frame again and punched the driver in the face with his other hand. Then he grabbed the steering wheel and twisted it.
Four wheel drives are top-heavy compared to most other vehicles. They’re good for rough terrain, for carrying heavy loads, and for polluting the air with carbon monoxide. But if you’re driving one at 150 kph and you swerve suddenly, they flip over.
The passenger-side wheels of the 4WD shot up off the ground and the body of the car twisted sideways, the side of the rear bumper bouncing against the road with an ugly scraping sound. Six jumped, launching himself up off the bonnet, catapulting forwards through the air.
Bonk! He smacked down on the boot of the limo again, his head whacking against the rear windscreen. Looking back, he saw the 4WD tumble through the air like an Olympic diver and crash against the road, headlights first, piercing the air with a scratchy shriek.
Six clambered back onto the roof, slipped down through the skylight, and climbed back into the driver’s cabin next to Ace.
‘They’re gone,’ he said.
‘No-one else after us?’ Ace asked.
‘Just the air support. We should change cars before we go back to the surface.’
She nodded.
‘Nice driving,’ he said, after a pause.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Nice ... flying.’
‘Jumping,’ Six corrected. ‘I can’t fly.’
Ace looked at him. ‘Are you hurt?’
Six thought for a moment. ‘No. No injuries.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Ace started laughing. ‘Their car is upside down, and you’re not even scratched?’
‘Stay calm,’ Six said. ‘The leftover adrenaline is triggering your laugh reflex. That should only last a couple of minutes.’
‘I know that,’ she giggled. ‘I’m a doctor, remember?’ Six opened his phone. At first he thought there wasn’t enough signal to make a call, and then he remembered that the bars represented radiation levels, not reception. He dialled.
‘Yes?’ King asked.
‘It’s Six. We’re in the westbound tunnel between Allich’s facility and the Seawall. We need you to send a car to pick us up.’
‘Mission status?’
‘Successful,’ Six said. He hung up.
THE RENDEZVOUS
The truck sped down the highway in a perfectly straight line like a 747 about to take off. Twelve giant wheels thundered against the asphalt. Other cars curved away from it on either side, slowing down, pulling over, letting it pass. It was big and dark and intimidating and it had ChaoSonic plates. No-one wanted to interfere with it.
Many of the drivers had heard on their radios that there’d been some sort of crash or collapse in a tunnel on the South Coast. Maybe, they reasoned, this truck was supposed to pick up some of the wreckage. Best stay out of its way.
But this truck wasn’t going to the tunnel, or anywhere else on the South Coast. This truck had a different destination altogether.
In the back of the truck, eight men were sitting with their backs against the walls, four on the left, four on the right. Each had an Eagle automatic assault rifle resting on his lap. They all wore dark goggles, making their faces inscrutably alien. Each man wore body armour, but in different places. One man had a standard Kevlar vest, but another had only a thick metal helmet. One had a bulletproof shell around his right forearm, but nowhere else – another had a similar shell around his right thigh. It was like they’d all shared the one suit
of body armour.
A ninth man sat in the corner. He had a bulletproof vest, but no gun and no goggles. He was staring at the floor.
The nine men didn’t speak, or even look at each other. They still had a long way to go.
Crouching in the darkness, surrounded by old brown coats, Nai stared through the gap between the closet door and the wall.
The corridor was empty. It had been empty the whole three hours she’d been watching it, except for twenty-three minutes ago, when the old man had left his study and gone downstairs to the bathroom. Nai had slipped out of the closet, crept across the corridor to the study, and squirted a syringe of alcohol into his crystal water glass. Then she ran back to the closet, where she sat and watched the old man climb the stairs, walk through the study door, and close it behind him.
The old man was one of her father’s competitors. He was working on a project that examined how the molecules in the human brain interacted with each other, a process called ‘protein folding’. His research might lead to a cure for Parkinson’s disease, or ALS or Alzheimer’s. But if he sold it to ChaoSonic, then the company would never buy Retuni Lerke’s brain-chemistry study – too many crossovers for it to be considered a good investment.
Of course, her father’s research had the advantage of real-world human testing. But he wanted to have a definite lock on the sale. He’d sent Nai to secure it for him.
So Nai waited in the old man’s closet. She was good at waiting. She could sit still and silent and alert for as long as it took.
She heard a noise from the study; a chair creaking, perhaps. She rested her gloved hand on the closet door, ready to push it open if the old man emerged. But the door didn’t open – the old man had probably just shifted his weight in his chair. And now there was a faint slurping sound as he sipped his alcoholic water.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Six of Hearts. He had a lot of nerve, following her to that party. When would he grow up? He belonged with her and their father, not with a bunch of deluded militia men.
She had saved his life several times. Once, Vanish’s troops had been about to restrain him, and she had shot them all. Well, eight of them – enough to let him escape. As always, she hadn’t missed a single shot – and he has never thanked her. Another time, Six had been in a plane after the pilot ejected, and he had no idea how to fly it, the idiot, and she had landed it for him. And this was how he repaid her? By insulting her intelligence, and mocking their father’s reputation –
