Revolution (30 page)

   
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I landed on a dinosaur head; presumably a large herbivore like a brontosaurus. The head must have been swinging under the duct when I jumped out. It seems like a good place to lay low for a while. At this elevation, I’m out of sight to those below
.

    Rayne used his high vantage point to try to get a layout of his surroundings.

   
Where do I go from here? I can’t stay on this brontosaur’s head forever
.

    Rayne’s stomach went into his throat again as the dinosaur head swung around, descending fast. Looking down, he saw another tourist boat approaching. He quickly found himself staring at another shocked group of tourists shouting and pointing at him. He was starting to get used to being a spectacle and paid them no mind, searching the landscape instead for any Shock Troopers.

    I hope the head lifts again so the tourists don’t give me away.

    The sudden thundering of automatic gunfire and exploding bullets made Rayne realize it was already too late. Glancing right, he saw a squad of Shock Troopers standing on the opposite riverbank, firing at him. 

    Bullets exploded and ricocheted around him. Rayne ducked and lied flat on his stomach, taking aim at the distant Troopers. He fired toward the riverbank. He hit one of them, watching him tumble into the river. The others took cover behind trees, continuing a barrage of fire. A line of bullets ricocheted across the top of the dinosaur’s metal skull in front of him. He felt a piece of shrapnel sting his forehead above his left eye.

   
This is it.
I’m all done.

    Rayne felt another sharp lurch as the dinosaur head ascended. Bullets exploded on its lower jaw and neck. Looking down, he saw the Troopers as tiny figures on the shore below. They continued to fire at him, but without effect. Bullets continued to strike the dinosaur’s lower jaw or whizz by above him, but none of them came close. He was too far for them to get a clear shot. However, he still had a problem.

   
According to the dinosaur’s pre-programmed motions, I have about a
minute before I’m lowered beside another tour boat
.

    Dropping a spent magazine from his pistol, Rayne tossed it over the side of the massive robot’s head. Clicking in a fresh magazine, he considered his options.

    Rayne leaned over the side, looking down at the brilliant flashes of white light exploding from the guns of the tiny figures on the jungle shore below. Occasionally, he heard a bullet whiz past him or impact on the robot’s lower jaw. Aiming his pistol over the side, he fired back at the little figures. He was too far away to tell if he was hitting anything or not, but he proceeded to empty his entire magazine toward the shore, as an incentive for the Troopers to retreat. It didn’t work. They ducked behind tree trunks and continued to fire intermittently at him.

    Rayne estimated the dinosaur head would begin its descent at any moment. Dropping out the spent magazine, he replaced it with a fresh one as he felt the head lowering toward the next tour boat. The lower he got, the more bullets struck the metal sides of the brontosaur head or whizzed past him. Wiping some blood from his left eye, he concentrated the barrel of his pistol on the Troopers on the far shore. Taking careful aim, he fired as he descended. He didn’t hit anything, but the Troopers were becoming more cautious, emerging only sporadically from behind the trees to fire at him. He quickly found himself level with the next tour boat.

    The passengers screamed hysterically as they ducked behind the boat’s guardrails. Rayne heard a line of bullets ricocheting across the top of the dinosaur’s head, a mere six inches from his right shoulder. Tiny pieces of shrapnel stung his shoulder.

    Suddenly, Rayne heard a loud rushing sound and saw a rocket launching toward him from the shore. He ducked and felt wind blow his hair as the rocket-propelled grenade rushed over him. A split second later, he heard a loud rumbling explode from the jungle behind him.

    This position has become untenable. I’m a sitting duck. I have to get out of here
.

    Leaning hard on his arms, Rayne stood on the dinosaur head and fired another volley of automatic fire toward his attackers. He watched some of them duck behind trees for cover, as he turned and leapt over the side. As his feet struck the water, ear-shattering thunder exploded above him. Plunging into the water, he heard the explosion dissipate as he sank deeper. Kicking his feet, he swam away underwater. Rayne traveled several feet before he had to come up for air. Emerging from the water, he gasped for breath.

    The brontosaur’s head had been blown apart in a fiery explosion. The head was now a partially disintegrated, charred metal skeleton spouting flames and smoke. Rayne turned and swam for the opposite shore.

    More gunfire echoed from the far shore, but Rayne tried to ignore it, swimming hard through the water. His right hand wasn’t much use, clutching the automatic pistol, but he did his best with his legs and left arm. Reaching the opposite shore, he climbed onto the muddy riverbank. Bullets exploded around him, splashing his face and body with slimy mud.

    He crawled through the mud until he reached the tree-line and ducked behind an artificial trunk. Peering out from his place of cover, Rayne observed the small figures of the Shock Troopers firing at him from the far shore. Bullets exploded higher up on the tree. Trying to stay low, he crawled backwards into the jungle. Bullets whizzed through the surrounding leaves as he retreated through the fake prehistoric foliage.

    Rayne was grateful when he felt the ground sloping downward, giving him more cover from enemy rounds. He was surprised when he looked down at his arms and hands and saw they were stained black from whatever chemical compound comprised the fake mud on the shore of the river. The gross stuff also splashed into his face, so he assumed his cheeks and forehead were also stained black.

     He continued crawling forward through the plastic plants – thankful he was out of the gross pseudo-mud. He saw a bright light ahead and realized the trees and plants opened into a large, grassy clearing. Reaching the edge of the trees, he stared across the clearing to the trees on the other side.

    I need to get across. 

    Rayne stood and jogged as fast as his ankle would allow him. A loud, thundering roar, like an amplified lion’s roar, boomed suddenly in his left ear. Turning left, he saw a forty-foot dinosaur tramping toward him across the clearing. Unlike the brontosaur robot, this dinosaur stood upright on muscular hind legs and waved two tiny claws in front of it. It had cavernous jaws with four rows of knife-like teeth.

   
Tyrannosaurus Rex
.
Definitely a carnivore
.
How realistic are
these robots
?
Are they able to eat their prey
?

    The dinosaur’s teeth figured prominently in Rayne’s mind as the monster stalked toward him, roaring. The thing was coming directly at him, so his only choice was to move forward or back. He moved forward.

    Peter ran, glancing over his left shoulder to see the dinosaur lumbering past him on its colossal legs. With the danger past, he stopped to watch the monster tramping heavily toward the edge of the clearing, where he could see the blue waters of the river. The dinosaur stopped on the edge of the riverbank, roaring loudly at a passing tour boat. People screamed as the pseudo-Tyrannosaur leaned over the river, extending his neck out, roaring at them.

   
Pretty incredible. If I didn’t know better, I’d
think it was real
.

    The dinosaur howled at the tourists with its thunderous voice before turning on its hind legs and stomping back toward Rayne’s position.

    This is as good a time as any to move into the jungle
.

    Rayne plunged into the thick jungle, glancing over his shoulder to see the massive dinosaur legs stalking through the clearing. Peter used his pistol to beat the thick plastic leaves out of his way, while he ducked under fake vines and dodged artificial tree trunks. He didn’t know what was beyond the jungle, but he figured his only chance was to lose himself in it until he could find a way out. A bullet exploded on a nearby tree trunk, which made him realize he might not be going far. Peering through the openings in the leaves, he saw pseudo-sunlight glinting off blue armor.

    They found me already
?
How many did they send after me
?

    Rayne ducked behind a large fake rock wedged between two fake prehistoric trees and aimed the barrel of his pistol at the approaching Troopers. The Troopers advanced cautiously like guerillas, using the trees and bushes for cover. Still, their blue armor easily gave them away. Peter aimed for the bright glints of armor through the openings in the leaves and fired.

    A bizarre, metallic scream pierced the jungle as an armored body fell back into a clump of bushes. Ducking behind the rock, Peter heard bullets striking the tree trunks above him in retaliation.

   
These bullets sound different
.
They must be using silencers and non-explosive bullets-
probably for increased stealth
.

    All Rayne heard were rushing sounds and tiny impacts like arrows striking the trees. Peeking his head over the rock, he saw gleaming blue armor through the leaves everywhere he turned.

   
This doesn’t look good
.

    Ducking again, he heard more impacts from the new, non-explosive bullets striking the fake rock. Peter crawled arduously backward, listening to the sound of the bullets whizzing through the bushes all around him. He crawled diagonally away toward another tree. He listened to the rock being peppered with an intense volley, one whizzed directly over his head. Peter lifted his gun above the bushes, firing at the unseen targets. More bullets whizzed through the fake plants around him.

   
I have nothing
to lose by firing back
.

    Rayne got on his knees, taking aim at the blue shapes behind the nearby trees. White sparks erupted on a Trooper’s metal armor as he scored a hit. He watched with satisfaction as the blue armored body dropped into the thick green undergrowth.

    Rayne emptied another magazine at the advancing blue-armored bodies, realizing with despair that it was his last. He threw the gun down and turned to run. Peter only moved a few steps when he felt two sharp stings on his back as if stung by a pair of bees. His running slowed as he felt dizzy and fatigued. He wiped his hand across his back and brought it to his face. A thick, red, sticky substance dripped from his fingers.

   
Blood? No, nerve gel. They want to take me alive.

    Rayne felt his entire body go numb as he lost control of his limbs. His legs wavered and he fell forward into the bushes. He couldn’t feel the additional nerve gel pellets striking him as he went down.

Chapter 24

Painful Questions

    When Rayne opened his eyes again, he felt a sense of déjà vu. He was seated in a dark room, staring at a silhouetted figure standing in front of a narrow light beam. His numb mind thought he had returned to the rebels’ underground headquarters and was being interrogated by Campion.

    He tried to focus on the silhouette in front of him and realized the proportions weren’t even close to Campion’s. The figure standing in front of the light was tall and thin. It moved out of the light, which caused the full intensity of the spotlight to shine into Rayne’s face. He squinted his eyes and turned away from the light. Trying to move, he found he had been tied securely to a metal chair.

    “He’s awake,” the silhouetted figure spoke in a male voice.

    As a response, Rayne heard another sound that gave him a sense of déjà vu, a cart being wheeled into the room behind him. The cart was placed next to him. He glanced down to see a mechanical apparatus lying on it.

    Another lie detector
?
But this time, the government is using it.
From some of the stories Campion told me, the agents of the government might not be quite as understanding as the rebels.

   
Peter knew that this was an extreme understatement. He braced himself for the worst.

    “Who are you?” the silhouetted figure standing to the left of the light asked him.

    “That all depends. Who are you?” Rayne asked.

    “I’m the one asking the questions. Hook him up,” the voice spoke ominously to the person standing to the right of Peter.

    Peter realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt when he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. Glancing down, he saw that his arms and hands were still stained black from the disgusting pseudo-mud he crawled through in Prehistoric World.

     He felt a hand skim across his black-stained arm; it was holding some unknown metal instrument. He gritted his teeth when he felt a pair of sharp metal pincers squeeze into his right index finger.

    “What the fuck kind of lie detector is this?” Rayne exclaimed.