Intended Extinction (37 page)

In other words, this place was a perfect hole for our rat to burrow into.

The approaching Vestibule reminded me of a power plant. Large sections of the roof were fenced off with horizontal cables attached to thick orange posts. Inside, advanced telecommunication towers were erected in symmetrical rows, along with numerous electrical boxes and metal crates. In between the various partitions, sleek paths lined the roof, allowing people access to different Vestibules via connecting bridges.

At the very end of the path leading to the Rectory, I could see a moving body disappearing into a blurry gray.

The maintenance catwalk stopped near the end of the rail, close enough for us to jump to Slate’s abandoned tram. One by one we leapt over a short guardrail and pummeled the roof of the tram. We didn’t have time to judge our competence in making the gap, we just did it.

Finally, our boots clanked to the roof of the Vestibule.

“He’s going to the Rectory. C’mon!” Bollis led the way through a cabled corridor.

I examined my surroundings, watching the seagulls prey on the faraway railings, dropping their excrement onto unsuspecting grates and bars. I viewed our platform closely, giving it a full 360 sweep as I ran. The Rectory seemed to have grown a hundred feet now that we were underneath its shadow.

As we cleared the halfway mark, passing an intersection that led to other Vestibules, the world around me exploded into crimson hues and twisted like a kaleidoscope. I hit the metal pavement hard, clutching my ears as a vibrating axe split my head in two.

Still convulsing, I raised my head to see the rest of Genesis on their knees, barring their ears shut. Those who still had helmets flung them away, as the monotone banshee penetrated the material. Past Bollis, the welcoming committee had arrived.

A full squad sprinted down the pathway from the Rectory, commencing their reign of death upon our position. We were vegetables, unable to deflect their barrage. The weaponized sound held us trapped and dithering.

Two bullets ripped into Vexin’s shoulder and upper arm. He fell onto his back. More steel whipped at Dodge and Bollis.

Is this how it was going to end? Silenced by sound?

When I started to black out from the consuming resonance, communication towers on either side exploded and sparked. The banshee screech stopped and my vision, coherence, and strength immediately returned. More explosions rocked the Vestibule from within the contained fences. We escaped before they could put an end to us.

“I can only think of one thing,” I panted, taking cover in between two powerful metal crates.

“Justin,” answered Tara, slamming into the other side.

Bollis chucked a few sliderjets in their direction. The jets rocketed down the path, spinning like tiny firecrackers. Once they found their second surface, each exploded with a violent shake. One of the mini-bombs struck a soldier on the toe, completely incinerating his body and leaving two others without legs.

While our friends kept the first squad occupied, Tara and I noticed a second group trying to flank us, coming from another bridge. We crossed the intersection and found cover behind a damaged electrical box.

I checked the number of bodies and came back to strategize with Tara.

“Five of them. Do you have any grenades left?”

I watched her unclip an apple-sized sphere from her waist.

“Here.” She handed me the bomb and grabbed the last one for herself.

“Make ‘em count.”

I kneeled and provided Tara with a few rounds of cover fire. She hurled the grenade their direction and replaced positions with me. On the other side, the grenade clanked behind the group of soldiers. They tried to scatter, but the blast decimated them.

“Two left,” said Tara. “They’re behind the first crate.”

After hearing her three-round burst, I stepped to the side, sized the area, and threw the tiny ball as hard as I could. I watched the perfect arc turn into the worst nightmare. I didn’t cook it long enough. One of the soldiers snatched the bomb before it exploded and chucked it back at us.

The grenade detonated near us before we could get clear. The blast threw us like limp pieces of raw meat. I slammed into an orange post, feeling my Oversuit groan underneath.

“Get up!”

Roger Celement struggled to angle his neck, wriggling on the gleaming floor.

“Sir!” he squeaked, “what are you doing here?!”

Repik said nothing and cut Celement’s binds, then approached the communication desk.

The cockeyed man dusted himself off and joined his leader. “What’s going on?”

“We’re leaving.”

Celement swiveled his head around, noticing two guards at the door’s threshold. He didn’t understand why such a drastic move was being made when their enemies were right in their grasp.

“Sir, I—”

“Don’t worry . . . this isn’t the end.”

Repik didn’t pay much attention to his subordinate and wasn’t especially pleased with his recent failure. The false CEO repressed the urge to slit Celement’s throat, knowing he would need to keep as many people on his side for the next move. Slate’s success today was just another “check” in their giant chess match.

Celement thought himself in good standing with Repik and added, “I’m going to kill that little—”

Repik exploded, slamming Celement against the wall and gripped the cockeyed man’s throat. Celement squealed in pain as his still-fresh shoulder wound banged the surface.

“No, you’ll learn to shut your disgusting mouth.”

Celement swallowed, realizing the barrier of trust had dissolved between the two. A spider-like fear began to trickle throughout his frame. He blinked away misty eyes and clutched his shoulder.

“Sir,” he tried, “I had no idea there was another who survived the helicopter crash.”

Repik went back to work. “Wait outside.” Whenever he spoke in meat cleavers, Celement knew it was time to shut up.

The wiry, rat-like beanpole waned in a cloud of solemnity. His tail dropped between his legs and he skulked out of the room, wanting nothing more than to rip the eyes out of that interfering little boy. Though he calmed himself, knowing his revenge would surface in due time.

Repik’s eyes flashed in the reflection of the screen. His backup plan had no room for failure. Slate may have known about the betrayal, but no one—not even Sapphira—knew about what was going to come next. He finished sending data to a secure station in the Dustslum and shut down the system.

Before he exited the room, he stopped.

One of his bodyguards noticed Repik’s contemplation. “Sir?”

After a minute, Repik turned back to the room.

“We’ve got one more hour before the world knows what’s happened. Give me a minute. I need to be alone.”

“We’re surrounded!”
Dodge blasted into my already ringing ears.

Instead of Vexin offering me a hand this time, I opened my eyes to Tara. We held our cover from behind a giant metal crate slightly off its axis from the grenade blast.

“You’re okay?” I asked, noticing her other hand clutching her stomach. She was breathing hard and trying to regain focus.

She nodded. “The others are moving.” She turned to suppress a few soldiers to our right. “They’re gonna leave us if we don’t hurry!”

Tara wrapped her arm around my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.

“Don’t stop shooting,” I said, gripping my rifle in one hand.

We emerged from behind the metal crate, sprinting in a disoriented line and unloading our magazines on the flanking metal-heads. Sparks were flying everywhere. Bullets struck the ground around our feet. My suit sustained a few piercing rounds. Still, we kept our heads low and plowed through.

Another explosion rang to our right and two rectangular boxes flew past us. Together, we dodged the smoldering remains and leapt toward the connecting bridge. Everything seemed to converge upon us at that moment. A bullet caught my calf, but glanced off. However, my leg came out from under me and I fell behind.

“Go! Just go!” I shouted.

She didn’t even think twice about my request, scrambling back to me. Through a flashing tidal wave of bullets, we redoubled our efforts and barely made it across the bridge’s threshold.

Within seconds we were at the doorway, guarded by Vexin and Bollis providing us with cover fire. As soon as my feet left the clanking bridge, Bollis let out a sickening groan.

Our leader limped into the room and fell against the nearby wall, his shin spewing blood everywhere. Vexin quickly slammed the butt of his shotgun into the door release, sealing us inside.

We had reached a grand foyer with five exits. A front desk separated two doors, and on either side of the room, steps led down to other corridors. A giant freight elevator stood behind the desk.

“Let me see!” shouted Dodge, rushing over to Bollis and examining the giant hole in the lower part of his shin. The suit’s exterior had been blasted off, showing deep into Bollis’ tissue.

I looked up at Dodge with fearful eyes. “Don’t tell me those white pieces are—”

“Splintered bone,” he replied.

Tara gave us every medical supply she had in her pouches, laying them out before us.

“Okay . . . okay . . .” chanted Dodge, trying to figure out where things went.

Finally, he took out a long bandage and began stuffing it into the hole in Bollis’ suit. Our leader’s face scrunched and twisted in pain. The Mend Lash started to suck up the blood and turned dark red. The material started to fuse with Bollis’ tissues and Dodge continued to pile three more Lashes into the wound.

The blonde amiably patted Bollis’ cheek and grinned. “Hang in there, pappy.”

We remained in the dimly lit room for at least five minutes. Dodge was successful in removing the bullet and wrapped Bollis’ leg in a thick, synthetic bandage, compatible with the Oversuit.

“They’ve stopped,” said Vexin, listening at the entrance.

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t hear anything anymore.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I replied, turning to the group. “We need to move.”

“Give him a few more minutes,” Dodge countered. “Can you walk, Bollis?”

Bollis pressed his back against the wall and shuffled his way to a standing position. Dodge attempted to help, but his hand was knocked away.

“I’ll be fine,” Bollis said in his humble, gruff voice. “Stop worrying about me for God’s sake. Slate should be our only thought.”

Dodge stepped back. “Whatever you say, boss.”

As soon as Bollis made his first step, he gritted his teeth and practically fell over.

Dodge caught him and supported his arm over his back. “Fine, huh?”

“C’mon!” growled Vexin. “This way.”

Vexin stood by the right corner door. The words “Rectory Global Conference Station” read across the front.

“Let’s hope he’s not too far,” said Tara.

We made our way through a tight corridor, lined with dim lights and neon blue wall runners. Axxiol’s design was far different than Jersey City. Everything spoke of industry and hydraulics. The surfaces were the color of autumn leaves and the entire place smelled of oil and something else I couldn’t put my finger on.

It reminded me of the Corrupt Vista.

We climbed a set of stairs and followed the path as it curved downward, as if meeting in the absolute center of the Rectory. We turned down one final flight and the pathway merged with a symmetrical cousin from the other side of the building. At the apex of the two hallways, two double glass doors barred the way into the Global Conference Station.

“Bollis,” said Vexin, “I hope you’re not going to hold us back.” His voice carried the same brusque Vexin tone as usual.

“My leg’s hurt, not my brain,” Bollis snapped. “I’ll get through it just like I always have—I just need to compensate.”

Things were quiet. All eyes were on Bollis. Seeing him wounded like this made me extremely nervous. He was my true leader—my mentor. From the very first time I laid eyes on him, he had been there to answer my questions, to keep me calm. Well, okay, he didn’t provide a lot of answers at first. Still, the fear of losing him licked at my heels like flickering flames.

Tara stepped into view. “We’re not going to desert you.”

Dodge nudged Bollis in their supportive grasp. “We’ve got your back, dude.”

“Listen,” Bollis sighed, “I can’t promise you I’m going to live through this—”

“Bollis, stop . . . ” interrupted Dodge.

“No,” he continued, “it’s true. I’m wounded. I understand. I’m slow. But no matter what happens, all of you have to promise me that you’ll keep fighting. We’ve known people were gonna die. We prepared for it. So, promise me you won’t lose your heads. You’ve got to stop this, even if I can’t see it through to the end.”

More silence prevailed. I hated thinking about this. We were so close to Slate, we could finish this and be done before anything happened. Losing Celia was hard enough—and that
still
hadn’t fully hit me yet.

“I hate when you talk like that,” said Dodge, shaking his head. He stepped in front of his best friend and stared him in the eyes. “Ryan. We have always come out on top. Together. You and I. This isn’t going to be an exception.” His voice went quiet. “You can’t leave me, man.”

Bollis smiled faintly at his friend. He knew having morbid thoughts wasn’t the best remedy for fear. He knew Dodge was right to think positively. He braced Dodge on the shoulders and nodded with a courageous face.

“Okay,” he affirmed. “Let’s go and finish this. All of us.”

Vexin pushed the door release and the glass panels started to retract into the walls. The mechanics whirred and brighter light flooded into our little foyer. It tore through the din and glinted on our shin plates. Bollis turned to face our next obstacle head on. He was leading us again, despite his injury.

The Global Conference Station. Designed like an amphitheater, the Station was a massive circular room with five tiers supporting sleek desks and chairs. Numerous stair paths were cut out of the desks, directing people to the epicenter. We stepped out onto the fifth and highest level, looking upon the center of the room. Floating above a pedestal, a gigantic hologram of the letter “G” rotated slowly.

The room was empty. Not a sign of GenoTec metal-heads. Only the gentle hum of technology fought for dominance against our echoing footsteps. Twelve feet above us, a second level, covered by dark windows, rimmed the room. As I scanned the arena, something whizzed past me.

There was a soft clank of metal, followed by a low groan.

Bollis fell to his knees, cupping his sternum. He emitted a soft gurgling noise and slumped over.

Dodge and Tara rushed to the floor, while Vexin and I spun around in circles, trying to find the origin of the bullet.

Dodge cradled Bollis’ head within his arms. “Hang in there!”

Bollis raised a hand, stopping Dodge from trying to move. “ . . . Curtis.”

There was no sign of any shooter, which made me very nervous. Hopeless and shaken, Vexin and I crowded around our fallen leader. When I saw the bullet hole, a corrupting power seized my throat. The bottom of my stomach fell out.

Bollis coughed, yet retained his brazen attitude. “I am honored to die next to all of you.”

The ex-Marine sputtered blood. Tara grasped his hand and Vexin sighed. Dodge wasn’t crying, but there was a certain soberness that permeated his soul.

“We’re going to fix this,” began Dodge.

Bollis smiled. “Always the optimist.”

“And you’re always the damned realist.”

“You . . . you have to finish this. You have to undo what Slate has done.”

“Damn it, Ryan.”

“You p-promise me,” Bollis continued. “You’ve got to promise me. End this. Bring peace back to the world. Find the cure. Stop Slate.” Bollis lifted his hand to touch Dodge’s face, but his fingertips only grazed the edge. Bollis’ arm fell limp and he used the last ounces of his life to inhale. “Finish this.”

Then Bollis slipped away, leaving the forsaken world behind.