Post-Human Series Books 1-4 (74 page)

25

“Helmet off,” I commanded, causing my helmet to fold back into the collar of my armor.

The pharmacist’s eyes were like saucers.

I holstered my gun. “Sorry I scared you.”

“You...you’re...” she tried to say, the shock overwhelming her.

“Yes. That’s me.” I shrugged and smiled, realizing how odd it must have been for her to see the world’s most famous technology guru standing in front of her in such an odd get-up. “I know. The last person you expected to see, right?”

She nodded.

“I-I don’t know how to explain all of this,” I said, forcing a smile in an attempt to be calming, “but I have an injured friend in desperate need of some codeine.”

“Oh,” she responded as she slowly crept out of her hiding place and got to her feet. She turned to look toward the front door, as though she were checking to see if the coast was clear.

“We’re safe for the time being,” I said, “but we’re going to need to leave. Would you be so kind as to procure the codeine while I pick up an arm sling?”

Her eyes narrowed in near disbelief. “I...uh, okay. Sure,” she said. She turned to get the requested painkiller, walking in a trance, as though she believed she were in a dream.

Meanwhile, I hopped over the counter again, snatching the sling from the shelf.

“Codeine is prescription,” the pharmacist said from behind me. “I’m not supposed to—”

“I think it will be okay just this once, don’t you?” I replied.

In a daze, she handed me the full box of pills. She was young—less than thirty by the look of her smooth features. Nevertheless, the stress of Armageddon had clearly taken its toll on her, her clothes visibly soaked with sweat, even causing damp spots to form under the arm of her white coat.

“What happened to you?” I asked. “How did you get left behind?”

“Left behind?” she responded, confused.

“Didn’t someone contact you to evacuate you from the city?”

“I’ve been working all night. I had no idea there was an evacuation. I knew a plane crashed earlier...but, that doesn’t explain...well, what’s been happening.”

“What has been happening?” I asked, curious to know the perspective of a clearly conscious person in the moments that the NPCs abandoned the fiction of the sim.

“Well, it was a pretty slow night at first,” she replied, her voice weak. “I-I was just trying to stay awake—you know, until morning.” She held her hand to her forehead, distressed.

“You’re in shock.” I stepped to one of the fridges that lined the wall of the pharmacy and grabbed a Coke for her, snapping the top open and handing her the red can. “This’ll help.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” she said as she took a gulp. “Thank you.”

“So how did you end up hiding behind the counter?”

“The other employees—a couple of hours ago—they just up and left. That was...odd. I called after one of them to ask what the hell was going on, but she just ignored me. It was all so strange, but I still didn’t panic. I just waited by the front window for them to return. I was more worried about what to say to customers. But then...oh my God.” Her eyes seemed to focus on the memory as it played itself for her again. “People started sprinting...so fast. It wasn’t human. They were in groups. No. Herds.
Herds
.” She looked up at me. “What the hell is going on out there? And why, of all people, are
you
here?”

“It’s a long story,” I replied. “I’ll try to fill you in as best I can, but I have to be upfront with you. We’re in danger.”

The can of Coke trembled in her hand, and I leaned over the counter and gently took it from her before she dropped it.

“We’ll be okay, but you have to come with me now and do exactly as I say. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“All right. I know some of this might sound absurd...all of it will sound absurd, actually. Ahem. Well, the first thing we need to do is make you invisible.” I reached across the counter again and this time grabbed her under both her arms and lifted her, easier than I would have been able to lift an infant, and brought her to my side of the counter. I placed her back on her feet, ignoring the astonished expression on her face as I judged her height. She appeared to be only an inch or two shorter than I. “I’m hoping this is one size fits all,” I said as I pulled at my chest, pulling away the same copy of the armored chest plate that John had earlier. I smiled at the pharmacist. “What’s your name?”

She looked down at her name tag. “Patricia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Patricia,” I said. “I guess I don’t really have to introduce myself.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

I handed her the armored chest plate. “Just slap this against your chest. The suit will do the rest.”

26

“Who the hell is that?” Haywire groaned in a barely audible whisper. She was conscious but groggy, lying on her right side.

“Patricia,” I replied as I knelt next to Haywire and removed the codeine from my utility belt while also popping the lid of a pilfered Gatorade. “She’s the pharmacist.” I looked up at Patricia, whose armor had intelligently melded itself to her body, fitting snugly like a second skin. “How much of this should we give her?” I asked.

Patricia tried to remove her helmet with her hands but couldn’t. “Uh...little help?”

“Helmet off,” I said, causing my helmet to fold back down.

“Helmet off,” she parroted me. She sighed in relief when it folded back. “I’m claustrophobic. Hate feeling trapped.”

I nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Better than you know.” I held up the codeine. “So...?”

“First off, what’s wrong with her?” Patricia asked as she knelt next to me, facing Haywire.

“Fractured ribs and broken scapula on the left side.”

Patricia’s eyes narrowed. “That a pretty precise diagnosis. How can you be sure?”

“We’re sure,” I replied. “Perfectly. So, what dose should I give her?”

“Well, this is all wrong,” she sighed. “She needs to be lying on her left side. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but lying on the side of the fracture will help her breathe easier.”

“Okay,” I replied.

Patricia reached to move Haywire.

“Whoa! Careful!” I cautioned. “Remember your extra strength in that exoskeleton. Gently.”

She nodded. “Right.” Slowly, the pharmacist-turned-medic placed her arm behind Haywire and cradled her body as she turned her onto her left side. Haywire’s face contorted into a pained expression, but she didn’t resist.

“Can you breathe okay?” Patricia asked.

Haywire nodded. “Better. Pills please...now.”

Patricia took the box from me and slipped out two capsules. “Open up.” When Haywire opened her mouth, Patricia dropped the pills in before reaching to snatch the Gatorade from me. “Here.”

Haywire took the liquid into her mouth and gulped down the pills. “Thank you,” she said before she settled back down onto her left side.

“What about the sling?” I asked.

“It’s more important that we monitor her breathing,” Patricia replied. “If she does okay over the next hour or so, we’ll sit her up and put on the sling.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “Thank you, Patricia.”

Patricia turned to me, her eyes intensely focused. “We’ve got some time now. How about you explain what the hell is going on?”

“I-I don’t even know if I can.”

“
Try
,” Patricia insisted.

“Don’t bother,” Haywire said, not even attempting to turn as she spoke over her shoulder. “There’s no way she’ll believe you.”

“Uh...what?” Patricia reacted indignantly. “I just watched everyone in the world—well, other than the two of you—turn into mindless drones. The sky is purple. I’m wearing a spacesuit and hanging out with the most famous man in the world. My mind is
wide
open at this point.”

“Well put,” I replied with a smile. “Okay. I’ll start from the beginning.”

“And then go on till you come to the end,” Patricia urged.

I nodded.

27

Patricia sat with her back against the wall, her legs pointing at a right angle toward Haywire, who had turned slightly, propping herself up to monitor the conversation. I sat opposite to Haywire in the small room, having pushed the large vacuum cleaner out of the way to make space. Haywire and I exchanged glances as we waited for Patricia’s reaction. Whether she would accept what we’d told her or, instead, react as I had, attempting to find an alternative explanation, remained to be seen. She might even cast us as the villains, assuming we were trying to fool her for some reason, just I had assumed Haywire, John Doe and Mr. Big had nefarious alternate motives toward me. What would happen next was unclear.

“So,” Patricia began, her facial expression unchanged as she continued to stare forward, “we’re trapped?”

“For the time being,” I confirmed, “yes.”

“But you have the key to escape, right?” she said, turning to me.

“I do.”

She nodded, appearing to be somewhat reassured. “But you won’t leave because you believe there are more people like us out there—more
real
people?”

“Finding you confirms it,” I replied. “I have no way of knowing how many there are, but if there is even one, I can’t leave.”

Patricia turned to Haywire. “And you have friends on the outside? These...post-humans?”

“Yeah,” Haywire said, her voice still weak but gaining in strength as time passed. “They’ll know what’s happened by now. They’ll get the gates open.”

“How many of them are there?” Patricia asked.

“Only a handful,” Haywire replied, “but it doesn’t take an army of post-humans to hack a sim.”

“What if this other post-human, the one whose head we’re in, is smarter than your friends? What if the gates
can’t
be opened from the outside?”

“Nobody’s
that
smart,” Haywire replied. “We’ll get it open eventually,” she added confidently.

“And what about her body?” Patricia asked. “Is she being guarded?”

“Who? Kali?” Haywire asked.

“Yes. Her. What precautions are you taking?”

I narrowed my eyes as I watched this exchange. Patricia was accepting the incredible, almost unfathomable scenario we’d thrust upon her and was actually analyzing it, seemingly turning it around in her mind and examining it from all angles.

“We’re not worried about her physical body,” Haywire replied, dismissing the concerns. “She can’t wake up. We won’t let her.”

“But are there guards?” Patricia asked again, insisting on an answer.

“I don’t think so,” Haywire replied, “But I can’t say for sure one way or another. We don’t have contact with the outside. They might have assigned someone, just to be on the safe side.”

Patricia nodded. “Okay.” She paused for a moment, as if mulling the situation over. Only moments later, she’d come up with a solution of her own. “Well, the answer seems simple. You should give the key to Kali.”

“What?” I reacted.

“Negotiate with her. Offer her the key in return for the conscious entities still in the sim. Make her agree to let them leave first.”

Haywire snorted before groaning in pain. She clasped her arm in front of her ribs and held tight as she answered. “Listen, lady, you don’t know Kali. She’s not going to negotiate.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve got nothing to negotiate with,” Haywire answered.

“You’ve got the key. That’s what she wants.”

“It’s a lynchpin,” Haywire corrected. “If it’s used, the sim collapses. Everyone dies, including
us
. You get it?”

“I get it,” Patricia replied emphatically. “Really. I do. But I don’t see any other alternative. If we throw ourselves at her mercy, I’m sure she’ll be reasonable.”

“Her
mercy
?” Haywire snorted again. “Stop making me laugh. It hurts.”

“I have to concur with Haywire,” I said. “If we allow Kali to know our location, we won’t survive. Throwing ourselves on the mercy of the merciless would be foolish.”

“How do you know she’s merciless?” Patricia asked, pressing the issue.

“She’s shut down sims identical to this one before,” Haywire answered. “What would make you think she’d hesitate to do it again?”

“I’ve watched her kill,” I added. “She does it with...
glee
. Believe me, you have no idea what we’re dealing with. The only thing she’s not capable of is compassion.”

Patricia nodded. “I see.” She paused before gesturing with her finger to Haywire and I. “And what’s the story with you two? You seem to back each other up pretty quickly. Are you an item?”

Haywire snorted again. “What? God, no. In his dreams.”

Patricia snapped her head to face Haywire. “Was that funny, bitch?”

I realized what was happening a fraction of a second too late to do anything about it. I grabbed for my gun as quickly as I could, but before I could aim it, it was driven out of my hand with a force that could only be compared to the hand of God. I was up on my knees a fraction of a second later, reaching for my other gun, only to have it wrenched away from me by an invisible hand that broke my wrist in the process. I called out in agony as Patricia thrust my body back against the wall, pinning me in place as she gestured to Haywire, thrusting her up to her feet and against the wall opposite me.

“Is
this
really your type?” Patricia demanded, her visage melting, replaced by that of Kali. She examined Haywire, her expression turning to extreme disgust. “So you’re into the goth thing now, Pookie? Purple hair? You like damaged girls?”

I couldn’t reply. My eyes were wide as the force—the hand of God—pressed against my lungs, making it impossible to breathe or speak. I was being crushed to death as I watched Haywire suffer the same fate.

Kali nodded. “Well, I can’t say I understand it, but if you prefer damaged girls to me, then I’ll give you damage! I’ll make her just the way you like it.”

Haywire’s death was not quick. It was not filled with nobility. It was gruesome. It was long. I watched blood rain down from her brow. I watched her skin bubble and burn. I watched her horrified, panicked eyes melt until they ran down her cheeks like tears in hell. All the while, I suffocated.

My last thought as I died was that it had truly been worse than Dante. Worse than Blake.