I am Automaton 3: Shadow of the Automaton

by Edward P. Cardillo

  Elicia ran her hands through her long brown hair in exasperation. “Why can’t I get a straight answer out of you people?”

  “We might as well tell her everything, seeing as her life now depends on it,” Peter said to Betancourt.

  “This information is classified,” insisted Betancourt, being a total hard ass as usual.

  “We need to know why they took her,” added Peter. “They perceive her as a threat, and we need to know why.”

  “He-llo. I’m right here,” said Elicia, obviously annoyed by the fact that they were talking about her as if she wasn’t there.

  Peter decided to tell her, despite the protest from Betancourt. “The army developed zombie drones to flush terrorists out of caves. At the same time they were developing Retinal Gateway Technology, or RGT, a technology that can be used to read people’s memories through neuropathways by tapping the retina in the eye.”

  He smiled as he mused that he sounded like Carl. Carl… “Both technologies are linked in their origin, and my brother developed a brain tumor that allowed him to communicate with the zombie drones. As it ends up, he began to change himself, and now it appears that he is about to lead an invasion on this planet. Oh, and he infected me too, but the Colonel here gave me a serum to stop my transformation.”

  Elicia looked at Peter as he sat there triumphantly, thinking he explained everything.

  “You guys are crazy. You’re escaped mental patients, is that it? I was rescued from monsters by a couple of escaped mental patients. Why does this kind of shit always have to happen to me? Why can’t I just be normal?”

  “I know this is a lot to digest,” implored Peter, “but you saw what you saw at the hangar.”

  Elicia was thoughtful for a moment. “How do I know you guys aren’t a couple of monsters?”

  “I’m perfectly human,” stated Betancourt.

  Elicia turned to Peter.

  “Hey,” he said putting up his hands defensively. “We just rescued you, didn’t we?”

  “So you’re one of…them?”

  “I was bitten by them, but the serum the Colonel gave me is preventing it from turning me fully into one of them.”

  “Fully?”

  “Well, I can sense people’s heart rates and pulses and I’m stronger and faster than I was. I can also do this cool trick…”

  “Major, you digress,” said Betancourt testily.

  “It’s all information,” said Peter defensively. “She has a right to ask questions.”

  “You’re a Major?” said Elicia with equal parts question and sarcasm, mocking his disbelief that she was Tronika.

  “Yes. I mean, I was.”

  “Aren’t you a little young to be a Major?” said Elicia suspiciously.

  “Well, it’s a long story.”

  “Major,” Betancourt reminded.

  “Elicia,” said Peter, taking his assault rifle off his lap and leaning forward in the back seat, “you said you knew one of the…monsters.”

  “I knew two of them, but I only called one a friend.”

  “How were they involved?”

  “They came to my dorm room and convinced me to go out with them.”

  Peter turned to Betancourt. “They used her friends to get to her.”

  “Only one of them was a friend,” Elicia reiterated. “The other was just a creep.” She blushed a little.

  “The RGT,” said Betancourt. “They used the RGT to find out who was close to her.” Then he said to Elicia, “Your podcast was about getting people to fall off the grid. Like how? What were you recommending?”

  “I had a feeling the government was tracking our every move. Cell phone calls, web sites surfed, credit card purchases…and all under this Second Patriot Act, and all in the name of national security.” She put those last two words in air quotes. “People aren’t even aware of half the shit the government is doing.”

  “This podcast and your blog…did you have a lot of followers?”

  “Millions.”

  “Jesus,” said Peter to Betancourt. “They were afraid she was onto them and getting the word out.”

  “Onto who, exactly?”

  “You saw what Kafka did with the portable RGT,” said Betancourt. “He’s turning people into zombies through their cell phones, computers, and televisions no less.”

  Elicia thought about the humming of the computers in the lab she babysat at school, and how she felt she wasn’t alone. She remembered the other students mesmerized by the Smartboard in her medieval lit class.

  “Okay, you guys are losing me again. Kafka? As in the international terrorist, Kafka?”

  “The very one,” said Peter gravely. “He’s behind all of this. If you were on to RGT and tipping people off, it would put a damper on his plans.”

  “He must plan on doing this on a large scale,” said Betancourt. “That’s why he wanted Ms. Corti, here. He wanted to silence her.”

  “Well, maybe we can explain to these monsters that I didn’t know anything about this RGT and certainly had no intention of foiling their plan to turn people into zombies with their freakin' electronics. Jesus, this whole thing sounds nuts. This doesn’t sound nuts to you guys?”

  But in a way it didn’t feel nuts. She had felt strange in recent days, as if the computers in the lab she was babysitting were somehow watching her. Then there were those terrible memories that came up in her lit class.

  Peter regarded her with a very sincere expression. “Honey, you wouldn’t believe all the shit that I’ve seen.”

  “Major Birdsall, here, was in the Infantry Drone Program. He helped develop it,” added Betancourt.

  “Well great,” said Elicia. “Remind me to thank you personally.”

  “Well, I did save your life back there,” Peter pointed out, deflating her sarcasm. “Oh, so I’m a Major now,” he said to Betancourt. “I thought you threw me out on my ass. Dishonorable discharge.”

  “That was General Ramses, not me,” reminded Betancourt. “I helped you, remember? You’re reinstated to active duty, given the special circumstances.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Remind me to thank you personally, sir.”

  “I have an idea,” interjected Elicia. “This Kafka is a terrorist. Why don’t we just call up the President and have him put the Automaton on him?”

  “That would be a good idea, if only for one small thing,” said Peter with a pained expression.

  “What’s that?”

  “He is the Automaton.”

  Elicia threw her hands up in exasperation. “Oh, this just gets better all the time.”

  Just then, Elicia’s cell phone began to ring. A creature of habit, she reached down for it.

  “No, don’t!” shouted Peter. He snatched it out of her hand, lowered the back window, and threw it out of the car.

  “What are you doing?” asked Elicia outraged.

  “There’s a terrorist turning people into zombies with their cell phones, remember?” said Peter.

  “Oh, right.”

  “That’s twice I saved your ass.”

  She blushed and he sensed her heartbeat flutter.

  “That was probably Kafka trying to silence you through your cell,” said Betancourt. “That means he’s close.”

  “That could’ve been my sister trying to call me.”

  “At this time of night,” said Betancourt. “Unlikely.”

  “We need to get off this road and to a desolate place,” said Peter. “You know, off the grid.” He said that last part for Elicia’s benefit. He figured she needed to start feeling like a part of the solution or she’d start becoming a part of the problem.

  “Wait,” she said. “First, we have to pick up my sister.”

  “We don’t have time for that,” said Betancourt stoically.

  “The hell we don’t,” snapped Elicia. “If they want to get to me they’ll use her.”

  “She’s right,” said Peter. “We have to get there
before they do.” He knew that picking up her sister was a good tactical call, but it wasn’t just strategy. He lost yet another family member today and knew how it felt to lose family to these monsters.

  “Where does she live?” asked Peter.

  “Close by. A few minutes away. My parents are in Italy through the month of July, so she’s all alone.”

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Corti, but your sister isn’t a priority,” insisted the Colonel.

  Elicia stabbed a finger into Betancourt’s right arm. “Listen, asshole. She’s a priority to me.”

  “Colonel, Elicia’s with us. They can use her sister to get to her, which would mean they’d be getting to us. We’d be compromised,” said Peter.

  Elicia’s sister wasn’t a priority, but Peter was tactically correct from a certain point of view.

  “Besides, if Kafka wanted us dead he would’ve killed us back at the base. He could’ve done it in the blink of an eye.”

  “Yes, that was curious,” said Betancourt, “letting us live and all. He said he just wanted the general.”

  “Carl let us live because we somehow serve his purpose better alive.”

  “Yes,” reflected Betancourt. “He wanted me out of the picture. Although he would’ve preferred me dead, I’m on the run from the army, which must be just as good. We’re all fugitives now.”

  “He wants us out of the way,” said Peter, “and we need to find out why.”

  “But first we get my sister,” insisted Elicia.

  “This is going to be close,” said Betancourt.

  “In and out,” assured Peter.

  Betancourt hesitated. “Okay, but if she puts up a fight, we leave her behind.”

  “She’ll come quietly,” said Elicia, lying through her teeth. She turned around and mouthed thank you to Peter, who nodded his you’re welcome. He wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for saving her life or convincing Betancourt to pick up her sister. Either way, it worked for him.

  Betancourt sped down the street taking direction from Elicia on how to get to her parents’ house. Peter lay down in the back seat weakened from his injuries, but he already felt his body mending.

  He just needed time.

  Chapter 10

  Corti Residence

  02:09 HRS

  Betancourt pulled up to a fancy mechanical gate that hung open at the mouth of a long driveway.

  “Nice digs,” said Peter taking in the size of the property. “Your parents must be loaded.”

  “Why is the security gate hanging open?” asked Betancourt.

  “It’s Brittany,” said Elicia rolling her eyes. “She comes home from a night of clubbing and always forgets to lock the gate.”

  Betancourt looked at Peter, cut the headlights, and then proceeded to slowly coast into the driveway. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

  They pulled up to the house. Every light was on.

  “She must be home,” Betancourt said.

  “Yeah, she tends to leave all the lights on, too,” said Elicia.

  “Your parents’ electric bill must be astronomical,” remarked the Colonel.

  “You must be a father,” said Elicia.

  “Why do you say that?” asked Betancourt, surprised.

  “Because that’s such a dad thing to say. I’ll go in and get her.”

  “Wait,” said Peter putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll all go.”

  “You stay here,” ordered Betancourt. “You’re in no condition to be walking around. I’ll go with her.”

  “Oh, who cares? Let’s go already.” Elicia jumped out of the Humvee.

  Betancourt turned to look at Peter in the backseat. “Now don’t get all caught up in trying to impress this girl. I need your mind on the mission, not getting laid.”

  Peter mock saluted. “Yes, Dad.”

  Betancourt shook his head and left the Humvee. He quickly caught up to Elicia as she let herself in the front door. They stepped into a rather large foyer, and Betancourt followed her into the living room.

  The furniture was all black leather and the décor very modern. There was a 100-inch LED television mounted above a large, stone fireplace.

  “Nice place,” Betancourt said in genuine admiration.

  “Brit!” Elicia called out. “Brittany!” She ran up the stairs to the second floor. Betancourt was right behind her.

  They walked down a long hallway to the second to last bedroom. Elicia knocked, and she heard someone moving around. Betancourt drew his handgun, but Elicia pushed the barrel with her fingers so it was pointed down at the floor. She shot him a dirty look. He shrugged.

  “Brittany!”

  “Elicia? Is that you?” asked a slurred voice from within.

  Betancourt raised his gun again. “She might be one of those monsters.”

  “Chill out, GI Joe. She’s fine.”

  Elicia pushed the bedroom door open. Brittany was staggering around in a red mini dress, makeup smeared over a pale face. She was making her way to Elicia. Betancourt trained his gun on her and was about to pull the trigger when Elicia stood in front of him.

  “Don’t! She’s drunk, not a zombie,” said Elicia reproachfully.

  “Elicia? What are you doing here?” Brittany wrapped her arms around her little sister’s neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

  She pushed off of Elicia and straightened herself up. She took a long look at the middle-aged, very stern looking black man standing behind Elicia. Her eyes were sultry.

  “Whoa! Elicia, you little slut,” she slurred. “Mom and Dad are going to be pissed.” She sounded impressed. Brittany stumbled backwards, lost her balance, and fell on her pink bed.

  “We don’t have time for this,” said Betancourt testily. He looked a little embarrassed at Brittany’s implication.

  “Relax, Colonel. She’ll be easier to deal with this way.”

  Brittany sat up but was wobbly. “Who’s your boyfriend, Elicia?”

  “He’s a friend, Brit. He wants to bring me to a party with lots of cute guys. I figured I’d drop by to see if you wanted to come.”

  Brittany eyed the two of them suspiciously. “Elicia, I thought you didn’t like parties.”

  Elicia shrugged her shoulders and looked sheepish. “College changes people, I guess.”

  Brittany frowned at them for a moment, and then her expression changed to a smile. “Good for you, sis. I knew you had it in you.”

  “Brit, listen to me. We have a guy in the car. He’s coming with us, and he’s just your type. Tall, strong, very cute, and military.”

  Brittany perked up at the last word. “Military? What, like army?”

  “He’s a Major, and a young one, too.”

  “I bet he’s a major cutie,” slurred Brittany, nearly falling off the bed.

  “For crying out loud,” Betancourt murmured.

  Elicia held out a palm to silence him and shot him a quick look that told him he wasn’t helping. “Brit, you can come, but we have to leave now.”

  Brittany belched loudly as she pondered the situation. “Okay,” she said smiling, and she hiccupped.

  “Help her up,” ordered Elicia.

  Betancourt glared at her.

  “You’re bigger than me and can get her out of here quicker than I can.”

  Betancourt let out a long sigh, and then walked over to the bed. He slipped his hands under Brittany’s armpits and began to lift her off the bed.

  “Okay, sweetheart. Upsie daisy.”

  Brittany smiled at him and practically threw herself into his arms. “You’re sexy.” The alcohol content of her breath nearly rendered him unconscious.

  “Okay. Right this way,” he said as he guided her away from the bed. “Get the front door open,” he told Elicia.

  Brittany began to retch.

  “No. No,” pleaded Betancourt, “God no.”

  But it was too late.

  Brittany emptied the contents of her stomach all over the front of Betancourt’s uniform. It came flying
out of her in a projectile stream. When she was finished, she started to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, as Betancourt held her away from him with outstretched arms.

  He looked down at all of the puke. “Damn, girl. How much did you eat?”

  Peter crouched low in the back seat of the Hummer reflecting on everything that happened. What was Carl up to? However, his thoughts quickly turned to Elicia. She was not what he expected.

  He expected the Seditious Blogger to be some overweight paranoid schizophrenic with an overactive imagination, not a college student. She definitely was not overweight. In fact…

  He saw it peering into the window, looking at him. His doppelgänger. He sat up a little too quickly, causing pain to radiate down his body.

  “You son-of-a-bitch! What do you want?”

  It pointed an eerie claw at him. It looked a little less human every time he saw it, but he supposed he was a little less human since they last met.

  The image of his twin faded as Peter saw flashing lights in the distance. It was the police, and they were at the front gate.

  “Shit,” said Peter.

  He wanted to use his mini-com, but he knew the danger of doing so. He would probably be fine, but he didn’t want Betancourt and Elicia shambling out of the house as zombies.

  He reached forward and honked the horn twice. He heard the police officers’ voices, responding to his honking the horn. The police had a skeleton key app in their mini-coms that opened most digi-locks. First, they would try to use the intercom at the gate. Then they were coming in. Peter figured they had mere minutes before they were through the front gate.

  Betancourt picked Brittany up in his arms and was carrying her down the steps like Clark Gable when he heard the car horn.

  “It’s Peter. Look out the front door.”

  Elicia ran to the front door and saw the lights at the front gate. “It’s the police.”

  Suddenly the intercom by the front door began to talk. “This is the police. Is anyone home?”

  Elicia froze and looked to Betancourt for guidance.

  He was at the bottom of the stairs and crossing the living room. “Talk to them. Buy us some time.”