by K. F. Breene
She walked around him, looking for a red car. It was hard to see in the dim light from her orb and harder from the streetlights with their pale glow. “The only reason you haven’t been found is because they obviously don’t care about your operation.”
“They care plenty.”
“If they cared plenty, someone like me would’ve been transported down here to decipher it in less than ten minutes.”
“She’s right,” Ryker said. He pointed at a vehicle up the way. “A bed is that platform at the back, I think. With the . . . You had hood wrong, but I don’t know what the word is.”
Roe stalked ahead.
“There have been a few advancements since you were bred,” Trent said, jerking away from a car he passed. “That one had someone in it.”
“Apparently.” Roe stopped beside a longer car with the hood over the platform. “It’s called a camper. The camper goes over the bed. See?” His tight, sarcastic smile crumpled into annoyance. “Get in.”
“I can help you make a better code,” Millicent said.
“You’re going to have to, if even the muscle head can catch on.” Roe turned a plastic handle, lifted the glass hatch, and then pulled down a metal piece. Soft flooring covered the platform, and there were benches on either side.
“Who devised it, you?” Ryker asked, helping Millicent into the back.
“Yes. And like I said, it’s been fine up until now.” Roe waited until they were all gathered inside the back. “And here I thought we were a thorn in the conglomerates’ sides. It appears I was delusional.”
“A thorn, but not a sword. If we get off this rock, Millie and I can help you sharpen that sword. Together, we’ll all drive the conglomerates to their knees.” Ryker held Marie in his lap.
Roe grunted a nonanswer before lifting the metal piece at the back of the truck and lowering the glass hatch. He moved around to the front and opened a door. The vehicle shook as he climbed inside.
“Can they track us in this?” Millicent asked through the glass partition.
Roe reached back and swiped his hand from right to left, opening a little window as he did so. “Track us, did you say?”
“Yes. Is there any way for them to track us?”
“No. This truck is made up of old-world parts. Its engine has a lot of computer elements, but their only applications are for operation and parking, things like that. It could drive itself if the road was in any way clear, but . . . it’s not. Besides, you’d have to physically hook it up to a computer to program the controls.”
“And yet, it only looks a few decades old . . . ,” Millicent marveled, touching the fabric above her.
“We’ve found even nicer models. All kept pristine in garages. Not sure what happened to the owners, but we have a few mechanics who work on these. It’s the type of machine we use off-world.” The engine roared to life, and the whole thing vibrated under them with the effort of keeping it going.
“I hope it makes it,” Millicent muttered to Ryker.
“This is a purr compared to some of the older models,” Roe said. He moved a stick, and the vehicle went forward.
“I don’t like this,” Ryker said in a low tone, staring back the way they came. “You’re right about that code. It was too easy by far.”
“You think they’ll come down here looking?” Millicent asked.
Ryker shook his head. “There’s no way to know for sure.” He raised his voice. “Is your craft still in its usual docking?”
“Yes. Why—” Roe cut off. Judging from the tenseness in his shoulders, he’d realized the answer to his question.
“Because without a craft, we would’ve had to walk out. Just like we did,” Millicent said to herself, ice forming in her belly. “Since humans can’t fly by themselves . . .”
A bright beam of light showered the vehicle. Two more rained down, moving over them from above. Drones.
“Your friends have arrived,” Roe said in a rough voice. “And no way can we outrun them in this. Time to make some tough decisions.”
“Those decisions have already been made,” Ryker said, moving toward the entrance of the bed with guns in hand.
More lights clicked on, lighting up the street. Humans looking more like critters scurried off to the sides. One man walked between the cars. His shoulders were huge and squared, his hands hung down at his sides, and his face was all too familiar.
“Mr. Hunt,” Ryker said in a low primal sort of growl. “Looks like he and I will finally settle the debate on who is better.”
Chapter 24
“Get rid of those drones and get out of here,” Ryker said as he walked out into the middle of the street, facing Mr. Hunt. “I’ll find you.”
“Like hell,” Millicent said, fitting a device on the end of her high-powered handgun.
“I can take him, Millicent. Go.”
“Can’t go until those drones are gone,” Roe yelled out the driver’s window. “We’re ground bound. They’ll just follow.”
“I’m on it.” Millicent aimed her gun in the middle of the two flying discs up the street, their spotlights too bright in the murky darkness. She squeezed the trigger as Ryker came to a stop.
It was the first time Millicent had ever seen Mr. Hunt smile. “Went too far this time, Gunner,” he said.
“It’s only too far if you get caught.”
Mr. Hunt spread his arms, as if to say, “Here I am. You’re caught.”
Ryker grinned, his silent “Not likely” reading clearly.
“What are they doing?” Trent asked through the opening in the truck bed, holding Marie close.
The explosion sent a concussion of air at them, smashing into Millicent and knocking her off her feet. Fire blasted out in all directions, followed by pieces of metal. The other two drones, twenty meters away and above the truck, started to spark.
“No!” she yelled, gun pointed at the ground. “They were far enough away—”
The explosions seared her face. Fire coughed into the sky as the first two drones crashed into the ground up the street.
“Gun was too big,” Ryker yelled, still facing Mr. Hunt, but with knees bent and body braced. He’d withstood the force of the blast. “Get that truck moving!”
Even as he said it, the second set of discs, nearly as big as the truck, wavered in the air before succumbing to gravity.
“Shit!” The truck roared to life. Tires squealed as Trent flung Marie out of the truck and then leaped out after her.
Millicent scrambled up and grabbed the screaming child before Trent reached them. He helped her lift Marie and carry her off to the side. The first drone roared with flame as it hit the hard ground. The second was right behind, catching the edge of the truck and knocking it to the side. Roe’s body rolled away a moment later. Fire licked the truck bed.
“Run,” Millicent said, pushing Marie at Trent. “Hide. A virus will hit in . . .” She checked her wrist and then swore. “Soon. Very soon. It’s eating through the defenses as we speak. It won’t hit the higher-level crafts, but it’ll hit the lower-level ones. Our conglomerate’s and the government’s, both.”
“What are you doing?” Roe yelled as he limped over to them, a gun out, his face an angry mask.
“Run!” Millicent shoved Trent, who was now holding a crying Marie. “Go! Save Marie. That’s all that matters . . .”
Roe’s eyes widened as he looked down the street.
Millicent turned. Time slowed down.
Mr. Hunt ran at Ryker. Behind him, three more drones were drifting down the street. White beams of light rained down on a host of enemies, all tough and muscular, all armed. Midlevel, probably, which meant they were adequately trained.
Mr. Hunt had ensured that she and Ryker didn’t stand a chance.
Pressure pushed on her chest. Her heart quickened as a strange flopping filled her stomach. Was this what looking death in the face felt like?
She let a breath tumble out of her mouth.
It didn’t matter. He
r death didn’t matter. As long as Marie was alive, Ryker and Millicent would live on. Marie was part of them—her life meant all their lives.
“Go,” she said again as Mr. Hunt fired his gun. Ryker jerked to the side. His gun rose and fired. Mr. Hunt jerked away, dodging.
“They can dodge gunfire?” Roe said in disbelief.
“Breeding has come a long way since you,” Trent said for the millionth time, this time with a slack jaw.
Mr. Hunt reached Ryker, gun raised. Ryker knocked it away, raising his own weapon. The fallen gun skittered across the concrete as a knife came out of nowhere and slashed at Ryker’s middle. He jumped back, but not fast enough. The blade opened a gash through his suit. A line of red welled up as Ryker brandished a knife of his own. He struck. Mr. Hunt turned sideways, avoiding, but Ryker was already slashing. His blade cut through Mr. Hunt’s arm.
Mr. Hunt didn’t even react. He was already blocking the next thrust and answering with his own knife stroke.
“Go!” Millicent yelled, suddenly all action. She shoved at Trent, then Roe. “Get her out of here!”
“What about those?” Roe pointed at the other drones, which were keeping pace with the troops marching down the middle of the street.
“I’ll take care of those.” She glanced around, going over the various tech in her arsenal. “Fossil fuel,” she breathed, half dancing through the fire to grab the bag from the truck. She dug through it until she found a sort of tube with a mechanical pump. Now she knew it as something used in bars, but it didn’t matter. The principles of what she needed were the same.
She kicked a fiery piece of debris out of her way as Mr. Hunt punched Ryker in the gut. He then swung with his other hand, which held a knife. Ryker was ready—Millicent could tell he’d taken the punch so he could grab the knife-thrust. He dropped his own knife, gripped Mr. Hunt’s arm with both hands, and then twirled, bringing his elbow down in the middle. A vicious crack did not illicit a scream. Instead, Mr. Hunt staggered back, arm now dangling unnaturally at his side, and yanked a gun from his holster with his good arm.
“Where is the fossil fuel tank on this thing?” Millicent yelled.
“What are you looking for?”
“I need liquid on that street. Now!”
A gunshot went off. Millicent swallowed around the throbbing of her heart.
“Fossil fuel is a terrible idea.” Roe grabbed something out of the truck. “I have another idea that’ll work. Then we gotta go.” He ran to a protuberance on the concrete walkway. Using a thick metal tool, he screwed off part of the top.
Another gunshot drew Millicent’s eyes.
Mr. Hunt staggered. His good shoulder glistened with blood. Ryker’s side did as well.
Ryker punched into Mr. Hunt’s side before stabbing with the knife in his other hand. Knife sliced into ribs. Mr. Hunt jerked his gun toward Ryker, firing.
Missing.
He fired again, making Ryker jump out of the way. All it would take was one lucky shot. Just one, and Ryker would go down.
“Damn it, hurry up—” A sludgy sort of liquid gushed across the curb and into the street. It washed over the ankles of both men and then spread out behind them, filling up the empty space separating them from the foot soldiers.
“What is it?” Millicent said, touching the leads of the tech together. They sparked, charged and ready.
“Once it was water. Now it’s . . . this stuff.” Roe limped hurriedly back to the truck. “Trent, help me get this crap away from the truck.”
“Half the back is bent,” Trent said.
“It’s the front that makes it go. Hurry!”
Millicent waited a moment for the first line of foot soldiers to step into the liquid. Another gunshot went off. She didn’t have any more time.
“Clear away,” she yelled at Ryker. She bent to the liquid. “Get out of the way!”
Without looking up, Ryker stabbed Mr. Hunt, slashing through his gun hand, and then dived. He rolled away when he hit the edge of the liquid. Mr. Hunt, visibly flagging and bent, not much left in him, lifted the gun and sighted.
Millicent jammed the charge into the liquid.
Mr. Hunt’s gun arm jerked. A rigid body followed. The gun blasted into the air.
The first two lines of troops froze and shook. Arms and bodies stiff, they convulsed from the electrical current.
Bodies toppled into those behind them. Someone stepped out of the puddle, pain lancing his face. The rest stopped twitching, now only jerking where they lay.
The charge was gone.
Mr. Hunt still stood, the only one upright in the puddle, bent and broken. Leaning to the side, still jerking, though no electricity ran through his body, he raised his gun laboriously.
Gun—right!
The gun filled her hand, but not before two more gunshots rang out. Mr. Hunt’s arms flew back. His body crumpled to the ground.
“Don’t shoot yet,” Ryker said, holstering the gun and glancing at the ground. “Can I step on this?”
“Yes, the charge is dead. Why?”
“This leg of security is bred and raised to be dronelike.” Ryker stared at the remaining troops facing him, out of the liquid and not affected by the charge. There were probably a few dozen in all, more possibly hidden in the shadows. “Their world is loyalty and violence. They’ll follow the rules before they try to destroy us. It’s how they were trained. How we were all trained. But these troops aren’t smart enough to rise above the orders they’re given. Or question them. So they won’t shoot until we do. They’ll want to take us alive. But as soon as we act defensively, they’ll act aggressively.”
Ryker slowly pulled out a large cumbersome gun from the pack on his back. Then another. He clearly didn’t have close combat in mind. He didn’t need finesse. Just killing. And the second he lowered those beasts at them, someone would fire, she didn’t care what he said.
No time to lose, she spun and took a few steps toward her electromagnetic pulse, only then realizing the others hadn’t left yet!
“Get out of here,” she yelled at Roe frantically.
Roe kicked a piece of flaming debris out of the way and then stamped his foot to quell the flame clawing at his suit. Sparing a glance for another large piece near the front of the truck, he nodded. “Let’s go, Trent!” His glance landed on Millicent. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Mama!” Marie screamed as Trent rushed her toward the truck.
“It’s okay, baby. Mama will be okay.” Millicent snatched the gun and device off the ground where she’d left it.
She held up the device. “Will it work as intended from this range?”
“Have to get closer.” Ryker walked down the middle of the street, heading straight for the amassing troops.
“Turn yourself over to us,” one of the troops said, his voice amplified, “and you will be spared.”
“Turn yourself over to us,” Ryker said, “and I’ll kill you anyway.”
“Oh good, make them even more nervous,” Millicent said, cocking her gun. It was time to run toward the fight, and she needed all the weapons she could get.
Heels.
“This is your second warning,” the voice said in an even tone.
“How many do we get?” Millicent asked, walking at an angle to meet Ryker in the center of the street.
“This is your last warning,” the voice said, strong and firm. One of the troops at the front of the line pulled at the gun strap on his shoulder, bringing the point upward.
“That was fast,” Ryker said, still walking slowly. “Millicent, I can hold them. Put those heels away and run. Run away, love. I don’t need you.”
“Obviously you do, you moron. You have no hope of dealing with these guys by yourself. Look how long you took with Mr. Hunt.” She lifted her gun.
“Stop! I’m warning—”
Ryker’s rapid fire cut out the warning shot. The man went down, followed by those around him, joining the bodies she’d already destroyed. Millicent took
aim and squeezed the trigger as the truck roared behind them, probably trying to get around the debris. Marie’s screams struck Millicent’s heart. Determination stayed her hand. “Let’s kill these fuckers!”
The drones exploded. The whole street lit up. Air rushed at them, knocking down those closest to the blast and blowing heat against Millicent’s face. The drones fell, balls of flame, crushing men under them. Still there were more than forty troops, and probably more hidden in the darkness.
Ryker ran at the enemy, his guns blazing, his movements perfectly synchronized and graceful despite his wounds. Millicent lowered her gun and pulled the trigger again, no idea what would happen, before tossing it away.
Tiny explosions lit up the crowd, setting pants on fire and making men throw sparking items to the ground. Guns wouldn’t be affected, though, and those came out next. Ryker barreled into the crowd, screaming at her to run, shooting everyone in front of him.
Utterly relaxed, knowing that she was protecting her child, Millicent stalked to the middle of the street. Three people were raising their weapons. At her. Others were already firing at Ryker, hitting their own men in the process. Not caring.
Millicent bent her arms, a grin tickling her lips. And then jerked her hands upward as she thought, Fat boyz.
Long barrels reached her hands but kept rising. Light and agile, the barrels extended fully, and she lowered her hands as the hooks near the butts secured around her elbows. Then her forearms, all electronic. The trigger guards flipped up, and she wrapped her fingers around the handles. Perfectly balanced.
Sleek personal tech with a huge impact, compliments of Gregon Corp. and the pirates who stole it. Millicent couldn’t have designed it better. Let’s hope this was worth the risk.
She squeezed the triggers. Like horizontal rain, bullets sprayed out of the weapons, pulled from the harness crisscrossing her torso. Bodies danced and jolted as they were hit with fire and forced back. Red splotches peppered bodies before they crumpled to the ground.
Ryker froze for a second, his eyes as wide as those around him. He recovered quickest. “Aim high! Get their heads!” His voice was barely heard above the firepower. “The suits farthest away will block most of the impact.”
