XOM-B (20 page)

“Drainage pipes,” Councilman Tetra says. He’s in charge of city planning and expansion and is often the coordinator between other professions such as construction and environmental engineering. He would know every inch of Liberty, though I’m not sure how well he knows what lies
beneath
the city. “For rain.”

“How are they accessing them?” Sir asks, his voice rushed.

“I—I don’t know.”

Sir lets out something like a growl and then speaks, but not to anyone in the room. “Spire defenses, engage any target under fifty degrees. Liberty defenses, converge on the Spire, priority alpha. Engage any targets under fifty degrees. Collateral damage acceptable.”

Collateral damage. This must be a similar order he gave to the soldiers guarding the river. It’s why they pursued us through the city with such abandon. They weren’t concerned about the damage to the city because they’d been ordered not to.

“Liberty lockdown. Initiation code one, zero, seven, five.” He finishes the string of numbers with a sound that’s almost mechanical.

“Lockdown?” Councilman Deere says in surprise. “But there are so many people on the streets!”

“And if just one of those gets inside a building, everyone inside it could be lost,” Sir says.

“They’ll all be killed,” I say.

“Reset magnification,” Sir says, and the giant view screens revert to their citywide view, though they remain infrared. Several expanding blobs of cooler bodies blossom around the city. “They’re
already
dead,” Sir replies, eyes on the city.

“If they get inside the Cat compound…” Councilman Cat says, looking at Sir. He lets the statement hang, and I’m not sure of the implications, but Sir seems to understand.

“Security forces in sectors thirty-seven through forty, converge on the Cat compound. Engage
anyone
who approaches, no exceptions. Collateral damage acceptable.”

I’m going to argue, but Heap takes my arm and shakes his head. Whatever is in the Cat compound must be important. Or dangerous. But then I think of something that I can’t stay quiet about. “The buildings. Don’t they have internal drainage?” All that water used to clean me off had to go somewhere. “And if Liberty was built over one of the Masters’ cities, there could be—”

“He’s right,” Tetra says, looking mortified. “If the old infrastructure is still intact, there might be ways to access our buildings.”

“They’re already trying to break down the old walls beneath the Spire,” I add.

Sir blinks twice, revealing the subtle toggle for his communications, and says, “All building security teams. Seal off, secure and guard all sub-levels. No one goes down or up. Lethal force authorized.”

“Aim for the head,” Luscious whispers in my ear.

“What?”

“Tell him to aim for the head,” she says. “That’s what they did in the movies. Zombies die without brains.”

She’s right,
I realize, thinking about my personal experience with the undead. They can endure all sorts of physical abuse—they’re dead after all—but too much trauma to the head, to their minds, puts them down for good.

“Aim for the head,” I say. “Sir, tell them to aim—”

“I heard you!” he screams at me, unleashing his fury. I step away from him, thinking I might have to defend myself, but he reins himself in and speaks again. “All security forces…” He glares at me one more time. “… when engaging targets, aim for the head.”

He swivels on his feet and heads for the door. “Councilmen, you will remain in the Core until this crisis has ended.” The doors open and he pauses, turning to Mohr. “Keep him”—he thrusts a finger at me—“his guardian and his mod, out of my sight.”

Sir storms away. The doors slide shut behind him.

Mohr approaches me as the Councilmen begin talking amongst themselves.

“You did well,” he says.

“I’m not sure Sir would agree with you.”

“He’s intimidated by you,” he says, catching me off guard.

I shake my head. “I don’t think he could be intimidated by anyone.”

“He once told me it was his job to ‘consider all possible future outcomes.’ And thus far he has, with the precision of a razor sharp blade. But this … outbreak. He never saw it coming and I’m not sure he knows how to respond to it.”

“A viral outbreak is not something you can shoot,” I say.

Mohr nods, glances over his shoulder and then gently nudges me farther away from the other Councilmen, but not Luscious and Heap. Whatever he’s going to say, it’s not a secret from them. “Further demonstrating why
you
are responding to this crisis more quickly than Sir. The solution to this problem isn’t going to be found in an armory, or a laboratory.” He places his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “It’s going to be found
outside
the city.”

I nod in agreement. “The living dead are not natural. Someone made them. Someone is
guiding
them.”

“Who?” Luscious asks.

“That is the question,” Mohr says. “And likely the solution.” He steps back, looking at me, and Luscious, and then Heap. “And I want you, the three of you, to find the answer.” He turns to the large display screens. “Out there.”

25.

“You want us to
what
?” Luscious asks, her voice raised, but she gives Mohr no time to reply, probably because she understands his request perfectly. She turns to me. “He’s trying to kill us.”

“You are wrong,” Heap says.

“What do you know?” Luscious reels around on Heap. “You’re a Simp.”

I’m not sure what a Simp is, but I’m certain it’s not intended as a compliment.

“How many people did you kill for the Masters after the awakening?”

“I protected life,” Heap says.

“I bet you did. How many
Masters
did you protect?”

Luscious’s anger surprises me. I get a sense she’s been biding her time, waiting for the right moment to launch this verbal barrage, but I don’t yet understand it. Though the idea that Heap might have willingly served the Masters is disturbing. Heap doesn’t seem disturbed by Luscious’s tone. He’s his normal, calm self.

“Fifteen,” Heap says. “For two years post-Grind.”

This seems to surprise Luscious. She steps back for a moment. I can almost feel her heating up. Her brows furrow deeply. “You kept Masters living for
two years
?”

Mohr places a gentle hand on Luscious’s shoulder. She shrugs away from it, repulsed.

“They were in the mountains,” Mohr says. “He had no communication with the outside world, no knowledge of the Simp rebellion, and he was protecting children.”

Luscious’s anger implodes at this last word. She clings to the negativity for a moment, but then it dissipates fully.

“Children?” I ask.

“Until they weren’t,” Heap says. “One night, they lived. In the morning, they didn’t. When I returned to the city, this tower was just being built and I learned about the events you have mentioned.”

“He’s been in my service since,” Mohr says.

“And I would level this city to protect Freeman,” Heap adds.

This statement surprises me. I know we’re friends, and I know it’s his job to protect me, but I can’t be that important. It just doesn’t make sense.

“Then why send him back out there?” she asks, hitching her thumb toward me.

I realize I’ve been absent from this conversation, of which I am the subject. I raise my hand. “I’d actually like to know that, too.”

“The radio signal,” he says.

“But Sir thought—”

Mohr waves a hand at me. “Never mind what he thinks. He is a brilliant strategist, yes, but not a scientist. He thinks in a grand sweeping scale and occasionally misses the details. The radio signal is faint, and intermittent. As Sir said, it’s like one created by a solar flare, but I believe that is what we are meant to believe. Where Sir hears static, I hear a pattern. I believe it’s what instigated this attack and perhaps directed the dead beneath the city. And he will not hear of it again unless I … unless
we
can provide proof. Sir is many things, but his weakness is his stalwart belief in his own abilities. Once something is dismissed, it will not be considered again without compelling evidence.”

“Like a zombie arm?” I ask.

“Much more than that, I’m afraid. You’ll need to find the signal’s source, and if you can, shut it off or take control. If we’re lucky, that might even be enough to stop all this. And if you find those responsible for this mess—”

“We kill them,” Luscious finishes, surprising me.

Mohr shakes his head. “Subdue them. Do not, under any circumstance, kill
anyone
that isn’t already dead.”

It pleases me to hear Mohr say this as it falls in line with what he taught me about the sanctity of life, but he doesn’t say anything about that now. Instead, he offers some logical reasoning. “We may require their knowledge.”

“What makes you think we can do this?” I ask.

“You survived the Lowers and made it to Liberty’s Core. You went beneath the city when no one else would, and once again, returned successfully.” Mohr raises an eyebrow. “You think that was luck? Also, you’re immune to the virus.”

“And what about me?” Luscious asks. “I’m just a mod from the Lowers.”

Mohr smiles. “You have become more than yourself. That alone is impressive, but you’re also important”—he nods to me—“to Freeman. He needs you.”

Luscious stares at Mohr for a moment and then looks back at me. “You’re going to go, aren’t you?”

I nod.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Very much so,” I confess, “but being controlled by fear is worse than pain, or death, in my opinion.”

“You see!” Mohr claps his hands together and then thrusts them both toward me. “Brilliance, wisdom and bravery in seventeen words. This is why Freeman, and only Freeman, will save humanity.”

This statement feels exaggerated. Borderline ridiculous. How could saving an entire race of people be up to me? I suppose it’s not. Not really. Sir and his security forces are doing their part, holding off the invasion for as long as possible. But that can’t last forever. Part of me says that Sir is not this narrow-minded. That he would listen to Mohr. But then, I’ve seen his stubborn refusal for myself.

Mohr leans closer and whispers, “And if you must know the truth, I have more faith in Freeman than I do in the defenses of this city and the Spire. You must hurry. I’ve run several simulations including all variables: population density, defensive capabilities, structural designs and flaws, as well as the layout of what lies beneath Liberty. In most scenarios, the city is lost in two days. And when that happens, the Spire will not be far behind. We have three days at the most. It’s worse for other cities around the world, where similar attacks are being carried out. They’re far less defended and will likely fall by the end of the day. For there to be any hope, you must reach the transmission’s source in three days.”

“But we don’t even know where we’re going,” Luscious complains, and it’s a valid point.

“North,” Mohr says, talking to me. “The signal originated north of Liberty. Within a hundred miles. Whoever is doing this, they’re close.” He starts walking away. “Come. Quickly. Before Sir realizes you’re leaving.”

“I don’t think Sir will mind that I’m leaving,” I say, following close behind while reaching out for Luscious’s hand. I’m privately nervous she’ll decide to stay behind. I may have performed some impressive feats but the fact that I did most of those things in the defense of Luscious is not lost on me. Mohr is right. I need her. Relief floods through me when her fingers find mine. Heap follows closely, his heavy feet thumping on the hard, glowing floor.

“On the contrary,” Mohr says. “When he has a moment to think beyond the current predicament, he will find a hundred different uses for you, none of which will allow you to reach your full potential or prevent the extinction of humanity. You will become just another one of his weapons.”

“A
weapon
?” I ask.

Mohr looks wounded for a moment, but straightens himself up and speaks calmly. “There is a long history of new discoveries, technological advancements and brilliant science created with the best intentions being twisted for use as unimaginable destructive forces.”

I hardly think I have the potential to be an unimaginable destructive force, but I understand what he’s saying. After all, our enemy has conjured a way to raise the dead and is using that ability to slaughter the living.

Mohr stops and motions toward an open elevator door. We step inside and immediately head up. The doors open just a moment later.

We step out of the elevator and into a wide-open, circular chamber that’s hundreds of feet across.
We’re in the disc atop the tower,
I realize. But it’s not just an empty space, it’s a hangar. Aircraft of every shape and size fill the space, including a line of thirty HoverCycles. Soldiers bustle about, prepping an army of flying vehicles, including several familiar-looking drones.

“That’s impressive,” I say, looking at a large red aircraft parked at the center of the hangar. It’s wide and sleek, like a giant bird of prey combined with a manta ray.

“It’s a VTOL gunship,” Mohr says. “Sir’s own design. Should the Spire be overrun, it will be our refuge.”

I’m slightly disappointed. Part of me really wanted to take the plane. Heap stops by the line of HoverCycles and mounts the nearest. Rather than climb up behind him as I usually might, I step up onto the neighboring cycle and motion for Luscious to hop on behind me. Unlike Heap’s former cycle, these look brand new. The paint is deep blue and shiny. And the number seventy-eight is emblazoned on the front hood, just below a star and above the words,
PROTECT AND SERVE.
I suspect the number, symbol and words were painted over on Heap’s cycle.

“Um,” Mohr says. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re not—”

I place my thumb on the starter pad. “Cycle seventy-eight, start.” The repulse engines hum to life. Bright blue light glows dully against the black floor. The cycle rises three feet. I turn to Mohr with a smile. “You think I can save humanity, but are afraid to let me drive? Also, is there a magnet in my thumb?”