The Sentient Collector (The Sentient Trilogy Book 1)

by Ian Williams

  From what he could tell this second computer was supposed to be collating and then storing the MARCs. What he found odd about that was the fact that not once had there been any mention of recombining Isaac’s code. So if this system could not do it, then which one could?

  Unfortunately, his digging was cut short by the arrival of Anthony – and Craig. Both remained close and whispered back and forth between only them. No doubt Craig was once again putting his own suspicions and wariness back at the top of the agenda.

  “I’m ready to proceed,” Kristof said, trying his best to separate Anthony’s intent ear from Craig’s overactive mouth.

  Anthony held his finger up to silence Craig. “Excellent. Go ahead.”

  Kristof returned to the holographic display floating in front of him and swiped across with his remaining good hand. The command had been given and the tag had quickly linked on to a departing MARC. He crossed his fingers while begging quietly to himself for the signal to return with the first of many progress updates. If it did not, then he would have already failed.

  “I’d love to see this go wrong, just so I can kill you myself,” Craig said with an intensity in his eyes that said exactly the same thing. Coming from someone with such a menacing tattoo, it carried enough weight to be taken seriously.

  So like an old lion losing its pride to a stronger male, Kristof bowed his head and backed out of the fight. He gave in without any resistance at all and now kept his eye contact with Craig to a safe minimum. The Kristof from hours earlier would never have tolerated a challenge like this from an underling such as Craig. But then his own rank carried little authority in the middle of terrorist territory.

  A short while later and a small beeping sound began to call out to them all. After that a new screen opened up on the display and a map instantly appeared with a tiny dot flashing in the middle. It had worked. The MARC had called home and told them exactly where it was. More importantly, it showed where it was going too.

  They would still have to wait for it to arrive at the other end before they would know where their enemy hid. And until then it was up to Kristof to guarantee Anthony did his part in return. He stepped away from the computer and looked straight to Anthony, ignoring Craig’s stare as he did.

  It was a request that required no spoken words. Anthony had been expecting it. “Fine,” he said. “You’ve done what you promised, now I must too. Please, follow me back to the hostages.”

  Once there Kristof was surprised to see the two remaining police officers he brought in with him, sitting at the front. They were being kept away from the rest of the hostages and were clearly aware that something bad was about to happen. They had been worked over pretty well too, with little to no part of them free from dark bruising or bloodied cuts. In some respects they were in a worse condition than him.

  “What’s going on?” Kristof asked.

  “When we have an address you’re all going free. Now, please undress.” Anthony stood by the officers and ordered them to do the same. Each was as confused as Kristof at the strange request. “I’m serious,” Anthony added.

  Craig suddenly grabbed Kristof and forced him into the line with the officers. Whatever was coming it was only they who would suffer it. “Do as you’re bloody told,” he said.

  Each slowly began to remove their clothing, Kristof much slower than the others. By the time they got down to their underwear they were then handed a boiler suit and a balaclava each. It was undeniable that they were to be dressed just like the terrorists. Kristof soon realised why they were being asked to do so. They were being released along with the hostages as he hoped, just not quite in the way he originally thought.

  “You’re kidding right?” Kristof asked. “You aren’t really expecting us to take the hostages out, are you?”

  “I am a man of my word, Mr. Rajco. I said I’d let you go and that is exactly what I’m doing. Except you’re also going to give us the perfect distraction while you do. Then I’ll take the war straight to the enemy.”

  The two officers beside him zipped up their boiler suits and turned to placing the balaclavas gently over their bruised faces. This was the last thing Kristof was going to do. He threw the boiler suit down and the balaclava too. Then like a stubborn and disobedient child he crossed his arms and frowned.

  “Craig, please help our friend here,” Anthony said.

  Without any hesitation at all Craig took a handful of the boiler suit and threw it back. “My pleasure, sir,” he replied with a short, and surprisingly powerful, fist to Kristof’s gut. “Get dressed, bitch! Don’t want to miss the party.”

  There was nothing he could do, they had him now. Complying now appeared to be his last remaining option, only he planned on doing so as slowly as he could manage. If he was to be sent to his death then he would do so in his own time. After a few breathless seconds he finally found his lungs were again working properly. He could now slide his feet into the cold and black clothing without passing out from the temporary lack of oxygen Craig’s punch had caused.

  As he dressed he was distracted by movement far ahead, by the large fountain. A small team of Anthony’s men were fussing around a device they were busy setting up. It was a basic box with nothing obvious to reveal its purpose. Four metal spikes were then pulled out and drilled into the floor. Attached to each was a metal chain that connected to the sides of the device. They were anchoring it to the ground for some reason.

  “What are they doing over there?” Kristof found it hard not to be nosey. He was leaving soon after all.

  “None of your damn business,” Craig snapped back, accidentally spitting right in his face.

  “Now, now, Craig, that’s not how we treat guests.” Anthony took position next to Kristof, who was carefully unrolling the sleeves of his new boiler suit. “They are about to provide a way out for me and my people.”

  “How? Underground? How’s that going to do that?”

  “That is what I like to call an Earth-shaker. It’s what I used to break through the ceiling in there.” Anthony pointed to the sofa store where the computer cabinet was. “Do you know what runs directly beneath this city, and this building too?”

  Kristof shook his head. He had seen nothing in his schematics from earlier. As far as he was aware there was nothing except dirt and earth beneath his feet – and probably a few tens of metres of concrete as well.

  “I’ll tell you then,” Anthony continued, with a huge smile across his face. “The farming towers rely on underground tunnels to transport their produce to the relevant parts of our fine city. And just by chance, one exists right underneath our feet.”

  It was anything but chance, Kristof knew all too well. After spending such a long time trying to work out why a shopping centre had been chosen, he eventually gave up. This answered that question straight away. Anthony had planned everything to such a fine degree, much more so than anyone had given him credit for.

  “We estimate that it will take roughly five attempts to break through the ten metres of rock to the tunnel. Each time we’ll need to remove the debris before trying again. So you have around twenty minutes until you’ll be sent out. I suggest you make peace with any false deities you may follow before then,” Anthony said.

  With one last desperate plea, Kristof again offered his assistance. This time he did so only to save himself. “Please, I could still be useful to you. You can’t just send me out there. They’ll shoot me on sight dressed like this.”

  “Get them ready, now.” Anthony walked away without paying Kristof the courtesy of acknowledging his request.

  “Fraid we can do what we fucking like, buddy. Sorry,” Craig replied as he pulled out a stretch of black duct-tape in one overly exaggerated motion, and then tore a piece away with his teeth. His apology sounded less than convincing, to say the least.

  The first piece of tape went across Kristof’s mouth before his balaclava could be pulled down over his face. But the second was not for the man next to him. There was more to co
me. Anthony reappeared holding three handguns – each obviously empty. He placed one in Kristof’s left hand, then did the same to the two officers. The next scrap of sticky tape was then messily wrapped around the grip of the gun, with each man holding their own in place.

  They were going to be sent out as walking targets for the world to take out their anger on. There would be little chance of them lasting more than a second or two at most like this. Even hoping that the hostages could tell those outside held little hope for Kristof and the police prisoners. In the panic that would surely ensue, no-one would hear them in time.

  Without any way of really fighting back, Kristof realised something hugely important. He was about to fulfil his dreams after all. He would die a hero, the man who had given his life to save the hostages. The glory would not be joined by the fame and fortune he hoped for, however. Still, it felt a success nonetheless. He would have found that profoundly disappointing before. Now, he had seen a different side of himself and was slowly coming to terms with his fate.

  He decided he would be the one who would win in the end. He may have led an entire team of police officers to their deaths, but he at least protected the hostages. It was far from an ideal outcome, too many had died needlessly. Though he could at least take solace in the fact that their sacrifice had saved many more.

  His final judgment would be down to the survivors, which he suddenly – and unexpectedly - found himself OK with knowing. Whatever they thought of him was irrelevant now, he would just be glad they were still alive. Even if he was not to be allowed the same in return.

  * * *

  “She’s the one who fucking started all of this in the first place,” Elliot shouted toward Phoenix, who stood her ground a couple of metres away.

  If not for Graham holding his best friend back, he would certainly have done some damage. “Take it easy, please mate,” Graham said.

  Elliot was unable to look him in the eye. A piercing stare brushed straight past him and on in the direction of Phoenix and Sean, who his friend held solely responsible for their recent ordeal. The problem Graham faced was that Elliot was right, she had caused it all. Yet she could not be harmed. Her insight into the terrorist group had helped them build a highly detailed picture of who they were dealing with. As a result, Luke had become increasingly paranoid and was pacing up and down in the background of the argument.

  “I don’t want her here,” Elliot continued, having totally ignored Graham. “I don’t want you here, bitch! Get lost.”

  Ruth stepped in and took her husband back. She pulled his face down to hers, his cheeks squeezed tightly in her palms. “Listen to me,” she began. Despite her best effort, Elliot continued to look to the side, where Phoenix stood with her arms crossed. “Elliot, listen. I know you’re angry, we all are, but this isn’t you. You’re OK now, she can’t hurt you.”

  “It’s not about that.” Phoenix did not appear to know when to stay quiet. “He needs someone to be angry with. I did do those things to him. Let him be angry. It’ll help him get over it.”

  “Get over it, get over it! It’s because of you that I have anything to get over at all. How can you live with yourself?” Elliot was still aiming his anger directly at Phoenix, while his face was held in place and looking deeply into Ruth’s eyes instead.

  “I did it for the same reason your family saved you,” Phoenix said. “I didn’t grow up in the city like you people did. There’s no police out there. There’s not even any type of local government. That all ends at the city limits. It’s been like that since everyone abandoned the rural areas. My life was shit, going from one messed up situation to the next. And all the while my only family, my brothers, were being dragged along with me.”

  Sean stepped forward and hugged his sister. “It’s OK, Sis.”

  Both nearly fell apart in a flood of tears the moment they held each other.

  “No it’s not!” She now started crying. “I was supposed to protect you and Dillon. I promise I did the best I could.” Phoenix wiped her mascara across her face as she continued. She now talked directly to Elliot. “That meant doing things I’d rather not have done, and working for Anthony for the last few years was one of them. It at least kept me and my brothers safe. Now I’m left with only one brother and a maniac who’ll probably hunt us down if he wins. So, yeah, get the fuck over it. We’ve all been through hell.”

  A moment of quiet filtered through the room, which itself added to the argument by compounding the echoes as they bounced from wall to wall. Each party had fallen foul of a few mistimed repeats of harsh words. With the fight now settling down, after soon spiralling out of control, those involved could take the time to bottle-up their anger.

  They had an audience too. Alex had run to her mother, Jane, and was standing just behind her. The same went for Stephen, who copied Alex in finding comfort in Jane. Except being the same height as her meant he had to lower himself slightly to rest his head on her shoulder.

  Luke still walked back and forth in the background. He had remained silent while the fight broke out and had made no attempt to calm things down. After hearing everything Phoenix could tell them about Anthony’s operation and the strange followers he had accumulated, Luke had receded to the periphery of the group. Something occurred to him that he was yet to share with the others.

  “I don’t like shouting,” Alex said to her mother.

  “Me neither,” Stephen replied before Jane could.

  Graham left Elliot and Ruth and swept his daughter up in his arms. “I’m sorry, Honey. The grownups are just very worried, that’s all. We promise not to shout anymore.” He squeezed Alex tightly. It felt like he had dragged her and Jane right into the middle of it. Knowing they were safe was all he cared about, though.

  He swung Alex around and was overjoyed to hear her giggling as if none of what happened really mattered at all.

  “Stop, I’m getting dizzy,” she said.

  When he placed her down again he patted her hair, except this rarely flattened it much. As he watched her trot off, he spotted movement on the wall of screens in the distance. They had all moved to the corner seated area as it was the only part of Sanctuary that actually resembled a civilised world. Everything else had been built to purpose, not comfort. So from Graham’s position, what was on the screen remained quite hard to make out. It had still caught his attention.

  “Is that live?” he asked, only to be ignored. “Hey, Luke.”

  Although still distracted, he eventually responded. “Sorry, what?”

  “The video feed there, is it live?”

  Luke took a quick peek at the screens. “Yes, why?”

  “Look.” Graham walked over to the video feed and saw that it was indeed live. Something was happening at the shopping centre. The terrorists were showing signs that they were about to give themselves up. A line of text scrolled across the screen that said: Shopping centre siege finally coming to an end. “Quick everyone, take a look. We’ve won. They’re giving up. We did it!”

  The others quickly joined him in marvelling at their shared success. If the siege really was about to end surely it meant the threat had ended? None of them could hide their excitement. The news was what they waited for: confirmation that things were finally about to settle down again. Luke had heard the news too, yet his reaction was almost the complete opposite to theirs.

  On the screen was a shot of the front entrance of the shopping centre. The reporters were no longer being held back and had taken a position alongside the police officers stood waiting. It was clear someone was about to come out as the red laser grid that had kept people out had suddenly been deactivated. A small gathering of hostages were now standing up inside and each looking ahead to the doors. They were being let go.

  “Can we hear the reporter?” Graham asked Luke, who had already stopped watching. Even so, the volume increased without as much as a nod in the direction of the screens. It was the first time Luke had dropped his human imitation. Something had him totally d
istracted.

  “Wait, it looks like the doors are opening,” the female reporter said off screen. “Yes, I can see something happening. This is it. There appears to be two – no three – terrorists taking place at the front of the line. One of them has an injury to his right hand. It’s been wrapped in bandages, but still seems to be bleeding through. I think it is clear they have seen they are trapped and are now about to hand themselves in. Although we still haven’t been given any information on how Simova are stopping this.”

  Their plan appeared to be working exactly as they needed. Sanctuary was still unknown to the rest of the city, and Isaac’s code was collecting inside the large cube in the centre of the room. Luke’s fellow Sentients would survive the ordeal after all. There appeared to be nothing to worry about anymore. All that remained was the safe release of the hostages. After that things would return to normality for sure.

  As the doors of the shopping centre opened, a flood of people burst out and began running in all directions. It was no surprise to Graham, they were fearing for their lives after all. What he found odd though was how the three terrorists with the group were doing exactly the same, except with guns in their hands. Moments later and a deep boom noise flowed out of the building behind the hostages. This made them all run even faster.

  “Oh my goodness,” the reporter continued in a panic. “There’s that odd sound again. It sounds like small explosions of some kind coming from inside. Now the terrorists appear to be chasing the hostages out with guns. I hope you can see this at home. It seems there may still be a risk that some of the hostages could be shot. Hang on. I’m now hearing that the police snipers are being ordered to take out the three terrorists.”

  Elliot shot a look to Phoenix, who had decided to stand on the other side of the group with her brother Sean. “I hope they shoot every single one of the bastards,” he said.