Transformers Dark of the Moon (37 page)

Epps saw the look on Sam’s face. “So it’s leaning. So what? That tower in Pisa, it’s been leaning for years, it’s still upright.”

Sam called, “Carly, how much does the Leaning Tower of Pisa, y’ know, lean?”

It just seemed to be the kind of thing she’d know. As it turned out, he was right. “About four degrees,” she said.

“Okay, so that thing’s leaning more than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. That’s got to be at least five, six degrees more lean, I’m thinking.”

“You got a better idea?” Epps said.

“Yeah. Waking up. Waking up right now, safe at home, finding out I’m dreaming all this and none of it ever happened. That’s my plan A.”

“Sam! Time for school!”
Epps said as he reached over and pinched Sam hard on the ear, causing him to let out a yelp. Then he stared at him sardonically. “How’d that work out for you? Wake up, didja?”

Sam shook his head to ease the pain and then said, “So, plan B, then.”

“Looks like.”

Quickly they informed the Autobots of their new destination and their plan, such as it was. “It is a worthy endeavor, Sam,” Optimus said gravely. “We will see you through to your destination. We would enter the building if that were feasible, but I think our height and, of even greater concern, our weight”—he looked dubiously at the tilting structure—“would make that inadvisable.”

“Gotta agree there. All I ask is that you keep an eye on Carly while we—”

Without hesitation, Carly said, “No way. I’m coming in with you.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Are you crazy? There’s no reason—”

“I’m not leaving you again. Not ever. I love …” She hesitated and then, seeing the look in his eyes, switched tracks and continued, “… nothing about this plan, but it beats sitting around on ground level and feeling helpless. You go, I go.”

Wheeljack rolled forward, producing assorted high-tech equipment from wherever the hell he always managed to pull it out from (truthfully, Sam didn’t like to think about where he stored it). “Urban combat. A classic. Don’t forget my prototypes. Grapple gloves for climbing; release is a little tricky, but you’ll get it. And everyone take yourself a boom stick.” He lay down a set
of intricately designed metal rods about two feet long. One end looked like a flare; the other appeared to be covered by what almost looked like a metal fist with the fingers clenched. It was like a combination of a mace and a lightsaber. Wheeljack pointed to the flare end. “Safety off, arm, ignite, thirty seconds, boom.” The way he was doling out the equipment accompanied with wry understatement, Sam half expected him to conclude,
And
do
try to bring it all back in one piece this time, Double-Oh-Seven
.

Sam lay down the Hellfire missile long enough to pick up a grapple glove and a boom stick. The glove looked like segmented metal, running up to his elbow. On the top side of it was a launcher that would fire a grappling hook and a retracting line, which he thought would come in particularly handy if he was endeavoring to escape from the Joker. He shoved the boom stick through his belt and secured it.

Epps looked down at the missile. “Too bad we only brought one shot.”

“One shot?” Sam replied. “That’s all we’ll need.”

(Megatron is still flush with humiliation from the manner in which Sentinel addressed him, grabbed him, slung him about as if he were nothing. His emotions are torn between wanting to prove his worth and wanting to lash out at the Prime for treating him so. He ultimately rejects the latter, because this is a time for unity, not fractiousness. Besides, he doubts that if it came to it, he could defeat Sentinel, anyway. So it is the former, then. Proceed with such efficiency and professionalism that Sentinel has no reason to question his capability again.)

(And then something catches his eye. Something running over the bridge connecting the north shore to the south, waving a white piece of cloth. That is the typical
human gesture for surrender. He decides to target it for amusement and blow it to atoms, just to show how highly Decepticons value such concepts. His sight zooms in and his audio locks on, and then he realizes that, no, it is the human Gould. What is he shouting?)

(“Autobots! They’re here! Alive!”)

(Megatron is staggered. He glances toward Sentinel. Has he seen, heard, what Megatron just heard?)

(“Remind me again,” Sentinel says, glowering, “what exactly your army is good for.”)

(That answered
that
question.)

(And Megatron sends out an electronic message to all Decepticons within range: “Decepticons! Defend the pillar!”)

(Gould just manages to clear the drawbridge before it starts rising. Within moments the Decepticons make sure the rest of the drawbridges are upright as well. The castle has raised the bridges and decided to rely on both the knights in the field and the moat to protect it.)

(The siege is on.)

It seemed to Mearing as if the Egg had become her second home. She then realized bleakly that if circumstances didn’t change and soon, it might well be her last home.

As she studied frustratingly limited satellite photos, she felt a hand patting her on the back. “I just want you to know,” Simmons told her, “whenever I imagined the end of the world, I always pictured being with you.”

She turned and looked at him. “You’re making it worse. You’re making me start to feel that the world can’t end soon enough.” Simmons wasn’t big on taking hints, but even he could handle this one, and he removed his hand from her back. She returned her attention to the photos. “We’ve got to be able to see what’s going on around that building from the ground.”

Perhaps eager to make up for being stupid enough to bring up his feelings at a time like this, Simmons immediately jumped to the task. “Get NSA to send server specs for any cameras in that area. Traffic lights, ATMs, anything. Then”—he indicated Dutch—“let the Great German Hope hack us in.”

Dutch flexed his knuckles, and the crack they made echoed in the Egg.

The Autobot convoy, having changed into their car incarnations, barreled around the debris that littered the landscape and sped as quickly as they could toward the streets of the north side of Chicago.

Optimus was in the lead, of course, an unstoppable juggernaut, or at least Sam hoped that he was unstoppable. Sam was at the wheel of Bumblebee, Carly at his side. The Hellfire missile was secured in the back; they certainly didn’t need it rolling around randomly. The rest of the Autobots were behind them in a steady stream of cars, and Epps and the various mercenaries were hitching rides within them. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn’t help but smile; the Wreckers were all race cars.

Carly was studying Leadfoot, the closest behind them, in the side-view. “I just have to say, was it really the best idea for that one to have a large white target painted on him? Isn’t that kind of asking for trouble?”

He hadn’t thought of it that way. Now that she had said it, though, he couldn’t think of it any other way.

Wheeljack was bringing up the rear, and suddenly there was a violent shaking, and before anyone could react, a huge crevice split the earth, creating a chasm directly in front of Wheeljack.

He cut hard to the right, but momentum had him. Unable to regain control, he jumped the barriers and
headed straight into the Chicago River. In midair he shifted back to his robot form, and then he plummeted into the water and disappeared beneath the surface.

(Wheeljack feels more foolish than anything else as he sinks to the riverbed and lands, his feet kicking up a cloud of silt. He had reacted like a car instead of an Autobot disguised as a car. He had been caught off guard and has wound up looking like a right fool because of it.)

(Once he has his footing solid, he begins to move toward the shore. It should not take more than a few moments for him to—)

(Then the water begins to swirl around him.)

(He looks behind him, in front of him, and to either side.)

(Decepticons are converging upon him.)

(He unleashes fire in all directions, but in the water the blasts are slowed while the Decepticons move even more quickly, easily avoiding his attack.)

(Then they are upon him, bearing him down to the dirt. He fights back furiously, and at close range he blasts apart one of the Decepticons, but then two more are upon him to take its place.)

(His last thought before final darkness falls upon him is that he should have come up with a more efficient means for the others to carry weapons.)

They drove to the shoreline, the Autobots still in their car forms, and waited for Wheeljack to emerge. When he did not do so immediately, Carly said, “Should it be taking this long?”

It was Optimus who answered. “No, it should not.” He started toward the water. “It should not be at—”

Suddenly he froze, and his voice was empty as he said, “He is not responding. I am sending him a message and he … is not there … he is—”

“There!” Ratchet suddenly called out, pointing in alarm.

“Bloody hell,” said Topspin.

Large pieces of what had once been Wheeljack floated to the surface, one by one at first and then several at a time. The river’s current started to carry them away, and Sam’s heart sank as he looked on.

“Why didn’t he call us? Why didn’t he summon help!” said Sideswipe.

“Because he was a warrior and he disliked the lay of the battlefield,” said Optimus. “He didn’t like the odds of our survival and felt that he might well be summoning all of us to our deaths. It is the only answer that makes sense.”

“Then we gotta make sure his death wasn’t for nothing,” said Epps. “We gotta take down these—”

Once more the ground beneath them began to shake. The humans looked around. The Autobots looked down.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance that could be natural causes?” Sam said with not much conviction.

“We need to get the humans clear of here, immediately!” said Optimus, and he immediately began to change into his robot form.

It wasn’t fast enough.

The street trembled and then ripped open, practically right under the feet of Optimus Prime. He was sent hurtling into the air in midconversion. He landed safely on his feet, but his trailer, complete with the valuable weapons and tools within, was flipped high in the air and then crashed to the ground, upside down, at least a hundred meters away.

They’re separating us from weapons!
Sam thought
frantically.
First Wheeljack! And now Optimus’s armory! They’re trying to make sure we have no resources
.

Even as Sam realized the immediate strategy of the Decepticons, the earth vomited up a mechanical nightmare. It was a gigantic metal snake of a creature, towering over the Autobots, letting out a screech that would have been at home being issued from the throat of a Jurassic-era dinosaur.

“Drillers! Why did it have to be Drillers!”
Leadfoot shouted.

And it was not alone.

The cockpit upon its back opened, and Shockwave emerged from it, not as huge as his mount but no less intimidating.

We are so screwed
, Sam thought.

Optimus tried to make a move toward his weapons cache. But Shockwave had the high ground and used it to maximum advantage, unleashing a series of blasts that created a virtual wall of explosions between Prime and his arsenal.

“This way!” Optimus shouted, and herding the humans in front of him, he steered them to shelter within a partly crumbled train station. The other Autobots were returning covering fire at the Driller, driving it back, but it wasn’t about to relinquish its position and let Optimus anywhere near his weapons.

They crammed into the train terminal, knowing full well that this was a temporary solution at best. Shockwave was in no rush. Time was on his side; he didn’t have to destroy them. All he had to do was keep them occupied until the pillars had been activated. After that, it was game over.

“Things just got a lot worse,” said Optimus, an assessment that Sam was hard put to argue with. “We have no weapon that can match Shockwave’s. We’ve got to outflank and get behind him.”

“We’ll circle around to the bent glass building. You guys can draw his fire,” said Epps.

Wheelie rolled forward and said, “Can I just maybe put in a vote for doing it the other way around? I’m not big on the whole drawing fire thing.”

“Right,” said Carly, “because if you guys go out there, the one they’re
really
going to shoot at is you.”

Wheelie gripped her leg firmly. “You understand me. You are my new warrior goddess.” Then he started to thrust himself repeatedly against her shin.

She kicked him away and said to Sam, “If I die in the next few minutes, at least I won’t have to live with that memory for long.”

Sam considered that the most desperate attempt to find the bright side of all this he had ever heard. But he would take whatever he could get.

Five V-22 Ospreys streaked through the skies above Lake Michigan, hurtling toward the smoking remains of Chicago.

Lennox’s Osprey was bringing up the rear. Counting himself, there were forty soldiers in all, eight in each plane, each of them clad head to toe in specially modified wing suits. Aerodynamic cloth stretched from their wrists to their hips and between their legs. Zimmerman, seated next to Lennox, brought his arms around himself, enveloping himself in the stretched cloth. His voice low, he whispered, “I’m Batman.”

“You’re Rocky the flying freaking squirrel, is what you are,” said Perkins, another soldier.

Lennox permitted them to engage in the lighthearted jabs because he knew what was really going through their minds. Their enthusiasm and bravery were not at all in question, but they knew what they were about to head into. Keeping it light until the go moment prevented them from dwelling too much on what they had to deal with.