Theme Planet (25 page)

I’ll show you some entertainment,
thought Dex.

They moved past various pens, Jim’s
boys cooing and warbling in wonder. Then a gift was offered to Dex on a big
golden platter, probably sprinkled with God-nectar and dipped in
Whiskey-ambrosia. Jim’s wife took the two boys into a toilet block, cleverly
disguised as a dinozen backside - thus making its overt purpose artful,
in-theme and conspicuous.

Dex looked around, and started to
move quickly. It was evening, and there were only a few people about, despite
each and every park or zone or yard being open 24/7. Yes, people sometimes
visited for evening jaunts, as Jim was showing, but on the whole it was a damn
sight quieter than during the bustling day.

Dex paused, as a sixty-foot
creature with feet as big as cars plodded past, then he moved with extreme
caution to stand behind Jim. He palmed the knife, and stuck it against Jim’s
back.

“Don’t even move, motherfucker,
or I’ll make your wife a widow and your kids instant orphans.”

Jim half turned. He was tensed
harder than an archer’s bowstring. “I thought you got the Shuttle.”

“No, dickhead. I didn’t get the
Shuttle. Now, don’t move. I’m going to take your gun.”

Expertly, Dex eased his hand
around Jim’s waist, removed the gun, prodded the gun in Jim’s back, and slid
the knife into his belt.

“Let’s move,” he said. “Up ahead.
Don’t look back. If you do
anything,
I’ll fucking drill you. Nod once if
you understand.”

Jim nodded, and they started to
walk, past the stomping feet of a big green dinozen and then veering right,
down a narrow walkway, then left, down another. They passed between heavy
screens of bushes, until Dex was sure they’d cleared Jim’s family.

“You’re insane,” said Jim,
slowly.

“Shut up unless I ask you a
fucking question.”

“You should have gone back to
Earth,” said Jim, shaking his head.

“Over there. Through those trees.
Move!”

They headed off the path, into
what appeared to be a sparsely populated conifer woodland. The ground was soft
and spongy, filled with a riot of colours. Each tree was a spread fan of rich,
thick needles, some green, some orange, displaying wild and wonderful patterns.
Above the canopy, the eerie shapes of the dinozens loomed and wandered
ponderously in and out of view.

They moved deeper into the
woodland - into a
fake
woodland. It was quiet here. The trees sighed
occasionally, or gave a gentle pattering of needlefall on the sumptuous carpet.

“Stop.” Dex’s voice seemed
unnecessarily loud and brash.

They stopped. Jim turned to face
Dex, and his face was curled into a snarl. “What are you doing, you crazy
bastard?”

“Saving the situation,” growled
Dex, jabbing the gun towards Jim’s face. “So shut the fuck up, listen, and
answer my questions, or I swear by all that’s holy I’m going to kill you where
you stand.”

Jim paled.

“Don’t do that, Dexter. I was
only doing what’s best for you. You know that, right?”

“I know
shit,
you
back-stabbing motherfucker. Now answer me this. Where are my wife and children?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are my family?”

“I don’t
know,
Dexter.”

“So help me, if you say that one
more time you get a bullet in the skull.”

“Dex, you don’t understand.”

“No, you cunt,
you
don’t
understand. I’ve been Urban Force for long enough now, I know the rules, I know
how the game is played - by both sides. Monolith are in on this, Monolith are
responsible for taking my family - for God only knows what purpose. But I want
them back, and I’m willing to kill the entire fucking planet to get what I
want.”

“No,” said Jim.

“Where are they?”

“This is nothing to do with
Monolith,” said Jim, and his face was shadowed, painted by brushstrokes of
violet from the dying sun. He looked suddenly very, very dangerous. Demonic.

“Oh, yeah? Who is it, then, my
mother?”

“No, Dexter, this has come from
on high. From Oblivion Government. From the very people who rule Earth.”

Dex paused, shock registering on
his face. “What?” he said.

“I warned you, Dex. You shouldn’t
be here. You should have been told. You’re an illegal here. You’re not wanted.”
He smiled, and it was a grim but knowing smile. The smile bit Dex like a knife
between his ribs.

“What do you mean, I’m an
illegal?”

“Somebody really should have told
you, Dex. You’re PUF. London Squad.” He shook his head sadly. “You’re not
welcome, mate.”

“And
Oblivion
give you an
open passport to shoot the shit out of your own policemen over here? That
brings a new meaning to interstellar legal cooperation, don’t you think?”

“Ah, that. The escape? Is that
what’s bothering you? A lot of it was staged, Dexter. “

“Staged?” Dex hated the
stupidity, simplicity and naivety of his own questions.

“Robots. Animatronics. Fast filmy
exploding realtime makeup for gunshot wounds.” He winked. “We’re good with
stuff like that. No policemen were harmed in the making of this feature, and
all that shit.”

“That fucking traffic cop who
melted into the pleasure liner wasn’t staged; and the damned boat going down
and killing thousands of people wasn’t staged, either.”

“That was... unfortunate.” But by
the look on his face, Dex could see Jim cared nothing for the innocents. He was
hard, and he was brutal, and now given the opportunity he’d slot Dexter
hardtime bullet-time.

“Where are my family?” Dex’s
voice was soft.

“No fucking idea.”

Dex lowered the gun, and fired a
single shot into Jim’s kneecap. Jim screamed, his scream swallowed by the
surrounding conifers as bone shards exploded from the back of his leg, and
blood drenched the springy heather behind him.

Jim rolled on his side, clutching
his bent, twisted leg, face torn into a cracked platter of agony.

“Now, my friend, you’re going to
limp for the rest of your life,” said Dex, and lined up the gun again. “The
next shot guarantees you’ll be a cripple.”

“Wait man,” panted Jim. “Stop,
stop,” he held out a hand stained with blood. “I can’t tell you. Monolith will
kill me.”

“I thought you said it was Earth
Government, fuckface?“

“They’re working together,” said
Jim, panting, spittle foaming on his lips. “They want you off Theme Planet.
They want you off
bad.”

Dex’s brain wrestled with itself.
He needed to know where his family was, but he also wanted to know why this
policeman claimed the two most powerful organisations in the QuadGal had
supposedly turned against him... bullshit, he realised, shaking his head. It
had to be bullshit.

“Last chance,” he said, kneeling,
and putting the gun to Jim’s other knee. “Where’s my family?”

“Dex, please, they’ll kill me if
I tell you,” he hissed, eyes wide with fear.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“They’re on The Lost Island,”
panted Jim, eyes squeezing shut in pain as he rolled onto his back, wheezing,
blood pumping between his fingers. “Please don’t kill me!”

Dex stood, and glared down the
gun at Jim. Here, and now, an ocean of rage and resentment and frustration
surfaced. His finger tightened on the trigger. He could do it. Kill the
bastard, right here, right now...

A screeching of distressed timber
filled Dex’s head, seemed to fill the entire world. Dex looked up as the entire
forest canopy came rushing towards him, crashing down, entire fifty-foot trees
breaking and snapping like dry tinder, like children’s toy sticks, as
something
came stomping into the forest and knocked the woodland aside like skittles.

Dex gawped for a moment, blinking
rapidly, confusion his mistress, as through the violet light stomped a
dinozen
easily a hundred feet high. It lifted its head and gave a massive, mammoth
trumpeting cry which shook the ground. It reared up, its huge, armoured, spiked
trunk swinging lazily like a pendulum, and its flat-plated feet, each one as
big as a house, came down with a colossal
thump,
which shook the trees out of the earth and sent Dex toppling backwards.
The trunk swung towards him, and he swallowed, watching the deadly barbs like
sharpened razors. They cut through trunks with a smashing, crashing, screaming
sound of tortured wood, of tearing timber, and Dex leapt, flattening himself
into the heather as what felt like a
skyscraper
ploughed overhead and
destroyed another hundred trees.

Jim disappeared in a swathe of
shredded wood, like a man swallowed by quicksand.

Dex leapt up, and started to run.
“Holy mother of God,” he breathed, and sprinted for all he was worth, Jim and
the murder of Jim clean forgotten in a whirlwind of panic. The great beast’s
head lowered, and its tiny yellow eyes focused on the running man.

Again, the dinozen trumpeted,
shaking its great head, and began to charge after him with a clumsy, lumbering
gait, which was nevertheless a jog faster than Dex’s sprint.

Dex skidded, leaping behind a
tree, and aimed the stolen gun at the great beast’s face. He began shooting -
five bullets, ten - and the beast roared now, flicking its great shaggy head
from left to right and back, as if blatting away annoying flies. It could
certainly feel the bullets, but that was a long way from being dropped like a
bastard.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Dex,
and stood, and with a brutal clarity headed for the theme park area, and the
women and children beyond. If, as he suspected, these creatures were machines,
controlled machines or even AIs, they would have inhibitors built-in. After
all, Monolith couldn’t have the bastards running riot all over the Theme
Planet, killing tourists! That would make bad economic sense.

Dex sprinted for all he was
worth, Jim gone and forgotten and hopefully
dead,
and pine needles
scattered and branches snapped and cracked, and all around him it rained bark
and twigs. To his left there came a terrific
thump
as a fifty-foot trunk
hit the ground only a few inches away. Dex shied away, his trajectory changing.
His arms pumped, gun forgotten. He knew, deep down, his only salvation from
this creature were the tourists...

Through the gloom of the forest
ahead there came another scream, blood-curdling and bestial. Dex froze right
through to his core, as if the dinozen had reached forward and ripped out his
spine. Realisation struck him a hammer blow. They were coordinating, trying to
cut him off! His face went hard, forming into a narrow brittle mask. So. They
were being controlled. Who by? Earth’s Oblivion Government? Monolith? It had to
be. Nobody else had such authority on Theme Planet...

Dex veered left, ducking under
branches. He heard hooves on the forest floor, pacing him to his right, and
behind him the huge lumbering beast was still cracking and breaking trees, but
slowing now, as if it had been called off. It was too big, Dex realised. Too
frightening. They wanted the smaller, more inconspicuous dinozens to take
over...

Dex gave an evil grin.

And you know what that means,
kiddies?

Bring in the predators!

A creature burst from the
undergrowth before him, and Dex flipped left, gun cracking in his hand, bullets
thumping up fur and into flesh with spurts of blood. Whatever the
thing
was - part bear, part dinosaur, part lion, a cocktail of fur and armoured bone
plates - it sailed past him as he continued to fire, bullets eating into the
creature’s body as teeth flashed and gnashed and snarled, straining to get at
him, and he hit the ground rolling, gun still pumping. Then he stopped, and
smoke was in the air, and he climbed to his feet and stared down at the
creature. It was panting hard, fur matted in blood. Pale blue malevolent eyes
watched him with hatred. He took a step closer, and it snarled like an injured
lion.