Infinity Rises (25 page)

“Your life is not worth a damned computer slate!” barks Jack, but Otto seems to ignore him completely as she continues grunting and huffing with the most determined look I’ve ever seen on anyone’s face in my life.

I look out the side door at the reforming dome. The huge, dark curve is descending directly over the wrecked transport. Otto is running out of time. I have to do something; I have to get her out of there. I pull at the straps across my stomach and chest, but they’re difficult to unfasten with only one hand.

“Jack, you’ve got fifteen seconds at the most!” yells Gazelle.

“So do we,” says the pilot. I look out the front windows and see the three lumbering mechanoids rounding the curve of the almost fully formed dome. They’re closer than a hundred meters away and getting closer with every massive stride. Zero brings up the gun-control screen and stabs his fingers at it. The bass hum of the roof-mounted rotary machine gun vibrates through the cabin as a thick line of glowing orange streaks winds through the air, brutally pelting the R.A.M.s with a maelstrom of bullets.

Sparks burst across their huge, green bodies with every impact, but the furious gunfire isn’t slowing them down at all. They just keep moving forward; the raging stream of bullets may as well be a stream of water, for all the good it’s doing.

“Missiles! Fire the missiles!” yells the pilot.

Zero makes a sign with one hand, signaling, “No. Too close.”

“Get out of that transport now!” Gazelle shouts into her headset. “Or we’re leaving without you!”

The wall of the dome has closed in on every side of the wreck now, and as it touches down on top of the transport, its hull slowly begins to crumple like it’s made of paper.

Through Jack’s visor, I see him finally give up trying to free Dean as he throws the metal bar aside and lunges at Otto.

Bulldog and Mantis leap into the cabin, disrupting the visor feeds into a pixelated haze of flickering colors. I watch in horror as all of the R.A.M.s raise their weaponized arms toward us . . . and open fire.

The pilot throttles up the transport and lifts off, but we’re only a couple of meters in the air when there’s a huge burst of yellow fire and an almighty bang. We’ve been hit. Red lights flash, and warning alerts ring out from the cockpit as one of the turbines sheers away from the hull and tumbles onto the paving outside in a rolling fireball. The transport tips wildly, and Bulldog and Mantis are thrown out the side door as the aircraft flips completely upside down before hitting the ground with a brutal, crunching thud.

I hold on for all I’m worth as the inside of the transport becomes something akin to an industrial tumble dryer. Gazelle is tossed from wall to wall like a rag doll, and my hair is strewn wildly over my face and into my eyes, causing the gut-churning blur of light and colors and noise to be even more disorienting than it already was.

I don’t know how, but I manage to reach out and grab Gazelle by the arm. I pull her toward me, and she digs her fingers under the strap across my chest. We desperately hold on to each other as the transport violently rolls over and over and over again. Gazelle is about the same size as me, but she’s so much heavier than I ever would’ve expected. It feels like her legs are encased in metal armor, and each time the transport lands on its underside, they bash painfully against me.

Just when it seems this ride will never end, the fuselage suddenly slams to an abrupt stop. The transport is lying sideways with the door above me open to the sky. Gazelle drops away from me, scrambles to her knees, and calls toward the cockpit. “Commander Zero! Kestrel! Are you OK?” The pilot is slumped to the side and seems to be unconscious, but I hear a groan from Zero and see his visor and mask appear over the back of his seat. That groan was the most I’ve ever heard him say.

Through the dented, misshapen door above me, I see that thick, black smoke has begun rising from somewhere outside the aircraft. This thing could go up in flames or even explode. We need to get out. Gazelle looks pretty beaten up; there’s a cut trickling blood down her forehead, and her eye is starting to swell, but I’m betting she’s as eager to get out of here as I am when she ignores the latches on my body straps, pulls a knife from a sheath on her thigh, and slices right through them. The previously rounded hull of the transport has been beaten into a vaguely rectangular shape, and what used to be the side door nearest me now opens to the sandy surface of the ground. I drop beside Gazelle as Zero points, then motions, to the sky-facing exit.

Gazelle nods, then turns to me. “Get on my back, and hold on tight.”

I frown at her, confused. I know that Zero ordered her to get me to safety, but Gazelle climbing out with me on her back is gonna take more time and effort than we can spare. Even with one hand, I’m sure it will be faster if I just do it myself. I’m about to argue my case when Gazelle shuffles backward into me, slings my arms around her neck . . . and jumps.

My head snaps back as we launch straight up through the open door and go sailing what must be at least five meters high into the air. I’m taken completely by surprise, and I immediately follow Gazelle’s instructions and squeeze my arms and legs tightly around her. Gazelle and I fall back to earth together and land with a muted thud on the sand in the middle of a Japanese Zen garden. Suddenly it all makes sense. That’s why her legs felt so strange. She has cybernetic prosthetics, too. All of Zero’s team must have them. Who the hell are these guys? And why don’t I know anything about them?

Without warning, Gazelle breaks into a run, and I gasp from the sudden acceleration. Now I know why she was given her code name. I thought I was fast, but she would easily leave me in the dust. Her speed is absolutely extraordinary. The wind rushes past my ears as the ground streaks by. “Running” is probably not the right word to describe how she moves: it’s more like a series of long, lunging strides, but even with my weight on her back, we’re traveling extraordinarily faster than anyone should be able to run; at a guess, we must be going well over sixty kilometers an hour. With a little sideways leap, Gazelle digs her boots into the sand and slides until she comes to a stop. In just a few seconds, she’s taken me almost 150 meters from the transport.

I climb off her back and wearily sit on the soft sand. She gives me a little nod. A spray of sand puffs high into the air as she takes off back toward the wreck, the forceful thuds of her footsteps pounding the ground as she covers the distance in ten powerful strides. She leaps onto the side of the transport and clambers through the opening.

The first group of survivors has reached the bottom of the hill and is heading toward me. I look past them toward the hilltop and the huge, black crown of Dome Two, hoping with all my heart to see any sign of that headstrong, frizzy-haired, brave-to-the-point-of-crazy little computer geek, and to my absolute, almost disbelieving relief . . . I do. Running down the hill, with Brody at her side, is none other than the unstoppable Bettina Otto.

The ascending hillside stretches out before me up to the plateau, and there they are, leaping and weaving over the scars and divots that were gouged into the manicured landscaping by our transport’s rocky descent. Jack, Mantis, and Bulldog are following close behind them, but my joy turns sour as I see the three R.A.M.s suddenly appear at the top of the incline. Their weapons aren’t raised; they aren’t walking down the slope. They’re just standing there, looking down at the bedraggled line of soldiers and civilians as they flee.

Margaux, Brent, the Professor, Percy, and Jennifer are the first to reach the edge of the sand garden. Brent stumbles and collapses to the ground as Margaux crouches and mewls beside him. Professor Francis spots me, and his face brightens as he leaves the others where they are and hurries toward me. Out of breath but smiling, he kneels beside me.

“Miss Brogan, I’m very pleased to see that you’re . . .” His voice trails away, and his expression drops as he sees my bandaged left wrist. “Your . . . hand,” he says shakily.

I don’t want to look at it or even be reminded of it. I move the stump out of sight behind my leg.

Professor Francis sits cross-legged on the sand beside me and whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too,” I reply sadly. For the second time today, I feel like I might cry.

A group of soldiers helping some of their wounded comrades stumbles onto the edge of the sand garden. The able-bodied ones eye me suspiciously as they gently ease the injured onto the ground. I stare at them blankly, feeling too weak to even react, but angry energy suddenly surges through me again as Captain Delgado steps out from behind one of his troops. He slowly walks over to where the Professor and I are sitting, looks down at me, and shakes his head.

“Harder to kill than a cockroach,” he growls.

“Yes, you are,” I reply.

He lets out an amused snort and glances at the stump at the end of my wrist. “I hope that hurt like hell.”

Professor Francis glares up at Captain Delgado. “You, sir, are, without a shadow of a doubt, the most scurrilous, reprehensible, despicable, murderous . . .” The Professor stops midinsult, springs to his feet, prods the Captain in the chest, and blurts, “You, sir, are a complete and utter . . . ARSE!”

Captain Delgado is equal parts amused and surprised. I have to admit, so am I. “Feel better, Professor?” he asks with a condescending smirk. The Professor’s face is turning a peculiar shade of pink as the Captain turns and starts walking back toward the soldiers that have gathered in a small group at the far end of the garden.

The Professor quickly crouches down beside me again. “Miss Otto informed Mr. Blake and me of the message she received about the sanctuary beneath the pond. That is where we will go, and believe me when I say . . . Captain Arse will most certainly
not
be joining us.”

I grin at the Professor, and he gives me a determined nod as Captain Delgado addresses his troops behind us.

“Everyone on your feet; there’s no time to rest! Those big, green bastards aren’t gonna wait around for us to catch our breath, so . . .”

The Captain’s little speech is cut short as five wide-eyed soldiers suddenly raise their rifles in my direction. The Captain quickly raises his hands. “Whoa, hold on, men! Don’t waste your ammo. She’s clearly no longer a threat; she’s as weak as a kitten, and . . .”

Professor Francis ducks to the side, and I shield my face with my arm as the soldiers open fire.

I splay across the sand as the soldiers keep shooting. I peek over the top of my arm, wondering what the hell is going on, and I can see them advancing toward me, but they’re not firing
at
me
.
They’re aiming
over
me.

I quickly turn my head and see exactly why.

On the other side of the promenade, climbing over the huge, crumbled sections of broken monorail track like silver-skinned, scarlet-masked spiders, are more than twenty service Drones.

I look to the left down the wide, curving promenade and see more of them emerging from in between buildings, stepping out from behind cherry-blossom trees, and climbing over the wreckage of a toppled monorail support tower. The Drones are walking slowly toward the sand garden like a gathering throng of sleepwalking zombies, and the soldiers are taking them out left and right. Bullet-riddled, orange-goop-leaking Drones are dropping and crumpling to the ground in every direction, but there are far too many, and the soldiers don’t have nearly enough ammo to keep them all at bay. But that inevitable truth seems to be far from their minds as they keep firing, walking shoulder to shoulder in a line toward the crowd of silver androids. The soldiers very nearly tread right on top of me and the Professor as they walk around us.

I grab the Professor’s arm and yell over the gunfire, “Get out of here!”

He clutches his hand over mine and shouts, “I refuse to leave you behind again!”

“Infinity!”

I turn and see Otto in the distance at the bottom of the hill, running and waving at me as Brody huffs and puffs alongside her. Despite the army of Drones getting closer and closer behind me, I can’t help smiling. But just as quickly as it came, my smile vanishes as I notice something very strange happening up on the plateau.

The R.A.M.s appear to be shrinking.

I squint my eyes at them, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, when I suddenly realize what the mechanoids are actually doing. They’re not shrinking . . . They’re curling. As they double over, I can see their arms bowing out to the sides as parts of their armor shift and reposition. Their legs bend sharply at the knees and tuck into their torsos as their domed heads lean right down and touch the ground. The black rectangles with their glowing red eyes swivel to face forward, and the transformation is complete. Like giant armadillos, those three nine-meter-high robots have very quickly and very intentionally become three massive, heavy, green, people-crushing boulders.

They tip from the edge of the plateau, and even from here, I can hear the rumble getting louder and louder as the three giant, rolling spheres begin barreling down the hillside toward us. Soldiers are firing at Drones, and there’s yelling and shrieking and pointing at the hill as people try to scramble out of the paths of the oncoming R.A.M.s.

I desperately wave at Otto to get out of the way. She looks over her shoulder at the approaching R.A.M.s and thankfully takes my advice as she swerves to her left and begins running toward the wide-open path of the promenade. Brody stays with her all the way, shoving Drones aside as they both sprint as fast as they can toward the line of cherry-blossom trees.

“Run, Professor!” I screech. “Get to the pond!”

He seems to ignore me completely as he jumps to his feet and tries to pull me up. Knowing that I need to move, too, if I want to survive, I accept his help and haul myself to my feet.

Through all the chaos, I look over at the transport; Zero is standing by the smoking wreck with the pilot slung over his shoulder. He motions to Gazelle and juts his arm toward me. Gazelle nods, breaks into a run, and, three seconds later, skids to a stop beside me and the Professor. Gazelle wrenches the Professor’s hands from me and shoves him flat on his bottom in the sand.