“As many as you can spare,” Des said. “Everyone. Take the southern route because Esroy is guarding the western one.”
“How do you know?”
“The others are dead. Esroy got to them.”
There wasn’t a response for several long seconds. Des knew Bracken would be sending scouts ahead, and they’d soon be upon him. He looked in every direction until he spotted a side door next to a large trash bin about twenty feet away. Immediately he rushed to it and tried to go in but it was locked. He took a step back, lifted his good leg and kicked the door with all his strength. Not only did the door open, but it snapped off its hinges. The dark room ahead gave him a sense of foreboding, but it was far safer than the soldiers coming after him.
“We’re sending a team,” Nolan finally came back, his voice sounding defeated and tired.
“I need more than a team. I need an army.”
Des found a stairwell leading both to the upper floors of the building and to a basement area. Having seen the building from the outside, he knew there were only four levels and the roof was close to another building. His chances of getting away by rooftop were a lot better than getting cornered in the basement.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes, just stay safe until we can get there,” Nolan said.
“I’ll be waiting,” Des said. Or I’ll be dead, he thought.
43
Esroy stood in front of the dead bodies on the ground. It felt strange to see Phil with his eyes open but as lifeless as a rock. Killing him and the others had been easy, although he hadn’t been thorough enough. He thought he had killed the entire party, but he caught Gus on the radio with someone, warning whoever was on the other end that Esroy had found them. Esroy had quickly ended the conversation by crushing Gus’s throat with his robotic foot. For a second, he thought about picking up the radio and trying to talk to the person on the other end, but he thought better of it, finding no advantage to trying.
He hovered above the scene, his rocket booster flaring more the higher he went. The freedom he felt was intoxicating. It felt good to be serving a purpose. A real purpose.
A voice cut into his thoughts. Bracken.
“Esroy, have you seen any trouble?”
“Nothing I couldn’t take care of myself.”
“So, they sent two convoys. You don’t see anything else from above?”
Esroy surveyed the streets below him, but there was only so much he could see from here. There could have been another convoy on its way, but unless he was in a certain radius he wouldn’t be able to tell.
“From where I am, I don’t see any activity.”
“Well, you need to get back to the tower,” Bracken said. “It’s time to implement Plan B. I just spotted Des and it’s going to try to get into the tower.”
Esroy couldn’t help but wince at Bracken’s usage of the word it’s. In this instance, talking about Des, Esroy was fine with it, but he also took it as an indication that Bracken also thought of Esroy as an it. The thought made him angry, however, there was no advantage to showing his anger now. He had to channel it, and use it against Des.
“I will take care of Des,” Esroy said. “Everything at the tower is shut down then?”
“Yeah,” Bracken answered. “They won’t be able to make a broadcast even if they get to the ninetieth floor.”
Esroy smiled now as he veered toward the tower, flying with speed and efficiency. This was his chance to show Mainland what he was capable of. This was Esroy’s chance to become the face of the new world.
44
With his sharp hearing, Des could tell when a group of soldiers were on to him. He played the game of cat and mouse for as long as he could and found himself somewhere on the third floor of the abandoned building. From the sound of their steps there were at least six of them. He knew he could fight them and win, but that would also make a lot of noise which would bring more and more soldiers. He feared it would eventually bring Esroy who Des wasn’t sure he could defeat.
Des’ steps were light and he found himself wedged in a small but cluttered storage room, filled to the roof with old cleaning supplies ripe with mildew and black mold. This building obviously hadn’t been used in years. Cobwebs were scattered in every corner and rafter, and dust was as thick as it was in the Outland. He held his rifle at his cheek and stared at the door only a few feet away from him. He half-expected soldiers to swing the door open and start firing, at which point Des would send a bullet into each of their heads. He would then have to find a different building to hide in until Nolan and his backup got to the tower.
In the closet he tried to listen for the footsteps but they were faint and somewhere (he thought) on the second floor. It had already been fifteen minutes and Nolan had given him no indication of his coming and Des didn’t sense any extra commotion outside the building.
Knowing that the soldiers were on the second floor, Des dared to speak through his comm. “Nolan, I need an update.”
There was no answer. Was it possible they had been intercepted? If so, there was no way Des was getting to the tower. Bullets usually bounced off him, but there would be rockets and other weapons that would break Des to pieces. That tank for instance.
“Nolan, can you hear me?”
“We can see the tower,” the answer came through.
He was glad to get an answer but the voice hadn’t been the one he was expecting.
“Hazel?”
“We’re almost there, Des.”
“What? Why are you coming?” He tried to stay quiet, but his anger forced the words out harshly.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“You’re not answering me.”
“We’re about a minute out,” she said.
Des punched his fist against the floor and stood, knocking a mop and bucket over. “Be careful!” he almost yelled. “There’s a tank and a lot of soldiers.”
“Des, can—me?” The sound crackled in and out with the noise of gunfire and yelling. He then detected a shake in the floor as the Mainland soldiers opened fire on the Outlanders. Des clenched his metal jaws together and smashed through the closet door, anger running through his circuits. A soldier who had somehow eluded Des’ detection jolted his head upward at the sight of the robot, but Des didn’t give him a chance as he lifted his rifle and sent a bullet through the man’s leg. The soldier fell to his knees and immediately grabbed for the wound. Des stormed by him as three more soldiers ran up the stairs to meet him, but Des was too fast. He jumped from the top of the stairs, his feet high in the air and he met the first man in the face, knocking all of them onto their backs at the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t stop to check whether they were unconscious or killed. He kept running.
The last two soldiers actually got an aim on Des and fired. The bullets hit Des in the leg and side with enough force to put any man down. But Des was no man. He stormed at the two soldiers, hitting the first one in the face with the butt of his rifle. The other he tackled, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist as Des rushed for the window, using the soldier’s body to break through. The two of them landed on the hard ground beneath, shattered glass sprinkling all around them. The two-story fall was enough to knock the man out cold, and probably broke a few bones as well, but Des didn’t stay down long enough to gather any information about him. He was up in a sprint through the alley and into the street where he saw a battle waging on both sides.
Outlander clashed with Mainlander, hand-to-hand, gun-to-gun. The soldiers were so scattered and mixed together it would have been impossible to shoot into the crowd of them and only hit the enemy. He scanned each face, desperately looking for Hazel, hoping she was still alive, wondering why she had come against his wishes. Why did she have to be so reckless? She was jeopardizing the entire mission.
“Hazel, where are you? Answer me!”
She didn’t answer, and he had to tell himself that it wasn’t because she was dead. It was because the guns were so loud and she couldn’t h
ear the radio. It was because she dropped the radio and it was broken. It had to be any reason besides that she was dead.
He looked in every direction until a thought entered his mind. She wasn’t fighting. She was only here in case Esroy showed up. She didn’t want to fight the Mainlanders. She didn’t want to kill anybody. And these were the front lines. She wouldn’t be here.
Des turned to his right and sprinted until he was in the middle of the Outlanders. A couple of them shot at him, probably having never seen the robot. He ignored the shots and kept moving forward toward the back of the reinforcements and away from the tower. He knew it was the opposite of what he should have been doing, but he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Hazel. She was everything to him. She was his creator. She was the reason he lived. The reason he felt anything. He loved her.
Nolan had underestimated the number of soldiers at the tower because he hadn’t brought enough to combat Bracken’s forces, but perhaps it would give Des enough time. He knew the longer he waited the worse his chances for success were. But he was already here. He had to find her. Where could she be? Where could she—
He spotted her crouched behind a large truck. Alone with no one to protect her. Des didn’t know if he felt more angry than relieved, but he didn’t care. She was alive. He rushed past a group of Outlanders sprinting toward the front of the fight, and slipped in behind the truck until he was next to Hazel. She jumped when she saw him, though she smiled at the sight.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the tower!”
“Why are you here?” Des demanded. “You don’t even want to be in this fight!”
“Wrong! I want to be in the fight, I just don’t want to kill anybody. You can understand that, Des.”
“Esroy killed Gus, Phil, and the others. He will do no less to you and me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He’s not the same program you knew before, Hazel. He’s different now.”
“I know,” she said. “I just—”
“Stay back here,” Des said. “I don’t care if you see Esroy in the fight. He’s no longer yours.”
Hazel swallowed as tears formed in her eyes. “This is all my fault.”
Des stared at her, wishing he had the ability to reciprocate her feelings with his own tears. But this wasn’t a time for him to cry anyway. He had a job to do and it was time to stop stalling.
“Stay back here,” he said. “Don’t go out into the open.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks as her hands balled up into fists.
Des picked up her rifle which had been set next to her on the ground and put it in her lap. “Here,” he said. “I don’t care if the person is Mainlander or Outlander. If someone comes after you, shoot him through the chest.”
Hazel took the gun in her hands almost as if she didn’t know what to do with it.
He held up his own gun. “I’ve got mine,” he said, smiling. He set a strong hand on hers, resting it there for a moment as they stared into each others’ eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For giving me the chance to live.”
She was about to respond, but he was already up and moving, sprinting toward the tower as fast as his metal legs could carry him. Des didn’t know what awaited him, but he knew if he didn’t get to the tower and start the broadcast, it was the end of the Outlanders. Worst of all, it would be the end of Hazel.
45
Des ran past the fighting soldiers at a blinding speed. He caught a glimpse of Nolan, shooting from behind an open truck door, pinned down by surrounding enemies. He saw Bracken shouting orders into his radio as the tank next to him took aim at an approaching vehicle. All this, Des was forced to ignore as he pushed forward. He heard the blast of the tank and the following explosion. He then heard the screams of people on fire and from those who sustained injuries that, if they didn’t kill them, would maim them for life.
Bullets whizzed by his head and a few bounced off his chest, but he finally found himself in front of the broadcast tower and Des had never felt so small. Reflective windows all the way to the top mirrored the smoke and fire that had taken over Mainland. He didn’t try to take it all in. There was no more time. He shoved through the front door and found the stairwell. Ninety floors would take a long time, but luckily, Des could take six or seven steps at a time if he jumped hard enough.
At this moment, Des was thankful that he was a robot and not a human. He had no racing heart or tired limbs. He didn’t waver at any moment. He felt the same at the tenth floor as he did at the twentieth floor and the thirtieth floor. It was about this point when he realized that the building must have been evacuated hours before. He paused briefly only to look through a window on a door at the forty-second floor. He decided to do this every fifth floor, just a glance. Each time the view beyond was dark and devoid of life. By the sixty-first floor, a thought hit him like a ton of bricks and he stopped in his tracks.
They’ve turned off the power.
He opened the door and found himself in another dark hallway, the only lights coming from the automatic emergency lights in the corners. He found a light switch on a wall and flipped it a few times, getting no response. He rushed up to the sixty-second floor and tried another light switch and the result was the same. This confirmed his fear. Bracken had ordered the building’s power to be shut down. That meant there were no broadcasts going out, and Des wouldn’t be able to get the video out to the people.
No, no, no. This couldn’t be it. Was it such a simple defeat? Surely there was another way. He bent down to his knees and searched his memory for the schematics of the building. There had to be something. Anything he could do. It wasn’t until he looked at floors ninety-seven through one hundred that he found the answer. The top three floors of the building were mechanical. Specifically, the last floor held the building’s multiple backup generators. He quickly studied the output needed for the fifteen minute broadcast, and whether the generators could operate such a thing. The answers didn’t come quickly, so he was forced to give up. Instead, he would have to find out when he got there.
He took the steps in the same manner as before, the time feeling like an eternity. At floor eighty-nine, he slowed his pace, thinking that perhaps the power had only been cut to those lower floors because they weren’t in use. It would have made sense to cut the power to that portion of the building if no one ever visited it. After all, the broadcast tower had been left over from the old world when it was thriving and each room had been occupied with people, each serving a specific purpose. At least, this was in his archived memory. This was how the history of the Mainlanders reported it. Des wasn’t even sure if he could trust his archived memory anymore.
He reached the ninetieth floor and braced himself. He desperately hoped there would be power to this part of the building, though he didn’t expect it. Every indication showed that the Mainlanders knew about their plan. He slowly reached for the doorknob and opened the door with ease. His fears were confirmed when he walked down the hallway to a light switch and flipped it. No lights. No power. He had to get to the top floor.
He was about to turn back and go up the stairs when he heard a noise. He wasn’t sure where it had come from but it sounded like a person. He took a few steps in the direction of the noise and amplified his hearing. It sounded like a person struggling underneath a cloth. It was a male’s voice. Distressed.
He followed it by making a right and then a left. The sound was much louder now and he walked into a large room filled from floor to ceiling with various screens of different shapes and sizes. All of them were as black as the next, dead without any electricity flowing through them. According to the schematics, this was the control room. This was where he needed to be to submit the transmission.
But the noise came from this room. When he looked to his left, he discovered the source. A man sat tied to a chair, his eyes closed, but his body moving around frantically
as he tried to free himself. His mouth had been stuffed with some material held there by a cloth wrapped around his head. Fresh blood trickled down from the top of his head all the way past his ears and to his neck. Blood had been smeared up and down his arms. And his white shirt had some sort of writing on it. In big, blood-red letters it read: I TOLD. The man’s face was bruised and battered. Despite all this, Des recognized him. It was John, Hazel’s father.
Des ran up to him quickly and pulled the cloth apart.
“You metal piece of scrap,” the man spat. “I’ll have you stuffed into a trash compactor before this is over.”
“Be quiet,” Des said. “I’m not Esroy. It’s me, Des.”
“Des?” John’s expression quickly changed from hardened and defiant to scared and worried. “Why aren’t you with my daughter?”
“She is safe, he lied.”
“She’s not here is she?”
“No,” Des said. “Not in the building, at least.”
“Des, listen to me. This is a trap. They know you’re coming.”
“I know,” he said. “I had my suspicions a few floors down.”
“Then why are you here?”
A voice cut into their conversation behind them. “Because there is no other place for Des to go.”
Des spun around to see Esroy standing in the doorway of the control room. Even in the darkness the robot gleamed. How Des didn’t hear him approach was a mystery, though he figured it was due to his excitement over finding John. As he stared at Esroy, Des reached behind John and snapped the rope that held his hands together, freeing the man from the chair.
“Pretty theatrical, isn’t it?” Esroy said, stepping into the control room as though he was on a leisurely stroll through the park. “The blood. The writing on the shirt.”
“I didn’t tell them anything, Des,” John snarled. “You have to believe me. They took the information from Gizmo. I never thought—”
Prototype D (Prototype D Series Book 1) Page 32
