Rupture (30 page)

“What is that …?” Joss mumbled, using a corner-building camera to focus as best he could. A machine waited among the tree trunks. It was human-sized, lean, colored in Consortium crimson. Water beaded on its shiny metal exterior, pouring down it in rivulets. Agent Nable stood next to it, maybe making adjustments to the machine through remote access. “That’s a cydrone. He’s getting ready to activate that thing.” Joss winced, covered his mouth. “Sorry.” Wally looked up, as if he had something to say. “What, Wally?”

“Still in pain?” Wally asked.

“I’m good.”

“You do look better. At least your head’s not on backward anymore.”

Joss laughed because little Wally always managed to smile with a banana grin that reached from ear to ear.

“And I’m free of the Rogue brands. Can’t complain, except for the occasional cramp.”

A straggler ran up their row and found the last empty seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Oswald,” Hoover said. “One demerit for being late.” The latecomer groaned.

Roll call ended, and Hoover sat at his desk to enjoy his coffee and read through his foldable, digital broadsheet. Everyone was allowed to talk, but they had to remain in their seats during the five minutes before the first-period bell rang.

Joss looked over at Beasley, who sat in the front row, her seat overwhelmed by her muscular frame. She and Hutto had been sparring often in the Glad Club, and both of them had been helpful with Wally and his mech. It was almost as if they’d accepted him into the club as a real fighter. They had both congratulated him on getting the Megamech working, even though it was still parked at the entrance to the Ag Farm. He’d left it there after piloting it, stomping on that Dread Walker, and almost killing Simone. Wally had felt guilty about it, but Simone had done her best to ease his guilt. She kept telling everyone that being a ghost wasn’t so bad.

Beasley had been the most sullen of all of them. Worse, Hutto had pushed her to the edge yesterday during sparring in the Glad Club and almost triggered her.

“Beasley’s still pissed,” Wally said.

Joss watched Hutto, all six feet of him, dozing with his head all the way back. “Hutto’s a jerk. He gets away with so much.”

“She’s not over his razzing, but I think Hutto feels bad and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“She’ll be all right.”

“How does he sleep so fast in one of these chair?”

“Oh, no,” Joss said. “It’s starting to move.”

They watched the cydrone emerge out of the tree line.

“Where’s it going?”

“We have to get downstairs.” He winked at Wally. “Play along.” He jerked in his seat, arching his back, and grabbed at his neck. “Aw, hell!”

Hoover stood. “Mr. Beckwith, are you all right?”

“Cramps!” Joss said. “I need to stand up and walk.” He forced himself to his feet. “I left my meds downstairs. Wally, can you get them?”

Wally jumped off his booster and ran for the door. Hutto stood, too, somehow awake. He helped Joss, who now pretended as if he might double over in pain or end up on the floor.

“Get to the clinic, son,” Hoover said.

“I’ll help, sir,” Hutto said.

Once in the hallway, Joss righted himself.

Hutto saw it. “What the …?”

“Come on. Both of you,” Joss said. “We need to get to the Compsys room before that thing finds Simone. We have to warn her.”

Joss ran for the stairwell as if he’d just learned how, knowing he only had a few minutes before the agent’s cydrone entered the building and began its scan for Simone.

* * *