Infinity Rises (14 page)

I get to my feet and look toward the breach. “George is dead. Let’s go.”

“Oh my god,” whispers Otto.

“Where do we go
to
?” asks Ryan.

“Anyplace where we won’t end up like this,” I say, pointing down at George’s body.

“I’m not going out there with that thing!” squawks Margaux.

“It’s heading away from us,” I reply. “If we hurry, it won’t even see us.”

Ryan steps forward. “I’m with you,” he says. “We can’t stay here, and . . . most of the time, it kinda seems like you know what you’re doing.”

I don’t really know what to make of that backhanded compliment, so I just decide to ignore it.

“I’m afraid I must agree,” the Professor says shakily as he adjusts his glasses on his nose. “We must at least attempt to get out of harm’s way.”

Everyone stands, cautiously eyeing our exit point. I stride over the debris, sidle through an access gap in the broken desk, and begin scanning the floor for the soldiers’ rifles. Two of them are intact, but the other has been rendered in half by the robot’s weapon, its barrel lying beside a furrow filled with the unrecognizable remains of that unfortunate soldier. When this is over, his family will probably be presented with a Ziploc bag instead of a coffin.

I pick up one of the rifles, check its magazine and chamber, then sling it onto my back.

“Ah, Miss Brogan?” says the Professor. “
That
is a dangerous weapon; perhaps it would best be left alone.”

It takes me a second to realize that he’s talking to
me
. Miss Brogan?
Really?
Major Brogan gave Finn
his
last name? Figures, I guess. The few memories of hers that I saw showed that he loved her like a daughter, while I was only ever treated as a killer. Just like before, I feel the hate boiling my guts. I take a deep breath and try to calm the fire.

“It’s OK, old man . . . ,” I say as I walk to the second rifle and kick it up into my palm. “I’ve had lots of training.” I look over at Ryan. “How’s the shoulder?”

“It’s a little tender, but it’s OK,” he says, flexing and rolling his arm. I throw the rifle at him, and he catches it with one hand.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” I ask.

“I’ve been kicked out of nine military schools,” he says as he checks the weapon with practiced movements. “I can dismantle it blindfolded, if you like.”

“This is unacceptable,” trumpets the Professor. “I can’t have students walking around with loaded guns!”

“School’s out,” I say, staring at the thin, gray-haired, tweed-jacket-wearing old nuisance. “And if you try to take this rifle away from me, I’ll shoot you myself.”

Of course, I don’t mean it; he’s a harmless old man, but judging by his incredulous expression, the Professor is more than slightly taken aback. “I see a good many detentions in your future, young lady,” he huffs.

“Well, let’s make sure you live long enough to punish me, then, shall we?”

With a flick of my head, I signal Ryan to join me as I approach the blasted-out window.

“What’s the plan?” he whispers.

“All I need you to do is point and shoot if you have to.”

“I can do that. Not that it’ll do any good against that not-so-jolly green giant.”

“No. But you could probably take out a Combat Drone if you hit it in the face mask a few times.” He gives me a serious nod, and it feels good to have a battle comrade again. It reminds me of all the missions I’ve been on in the past with my
actual
mission partner, except, unlike him, Ryan actually speaks and doesn’t have a creepy combat mask permanently fixed to his face all the ti—

BOOM!

Another explosion, more shouting, and more bursts from the robot’s hellish weapon, all coming from the direction of the courtyard. I look back at the rest of the group. They stand in a nervous pack a few meters behind us.

“Go to the right,” I tell Ryan. “Take them with you. I’ll stay here until you’re safely around the side of that white building on the corner.”

“Then what?” he asks.

“We know that the robot is scanning for wristbands, and it’s heading for the soldiers’ power signals in the central courtyard. We can use that distraction to go around the outside of Dome One to your school bus. I’m assuming there’s a bus?”

“Of course there’s a bus,” Ryan says, giving me a strange look. “You really don’t remember anything about this morning, do you?”

“Keep your mind on the task,” I hiss.

Ryan frowns. “Fine, I’ll lead the others to the corner, but then we have to find a way to warn the soldiers about the command modules.”

“No, we don’t.”

Ryan’s eyes narrow into a look of deep disapproval.

“This is what those men out there signed up for,” I whisper. “It’s their job to protect the citizens of the United Alliance. Now take
those
citizens . . . ,” I say, pointing at the group, “and help the soldiers fulfill their duty. Get them around that corner. If that robot comes back this way, I’ll distract it until you’re out of sight; then I’ll catch up with you.”

“It’s a good plan. I can help lead the way out,” Percy says from behind us.

Ryan glances back at the bunch of bedraggled people, then leans out of the breach, squinting toward the screeching foghorn of the robot’s weapon emanating from the courtyard. “Percy can take them, and I can—”

I cut Ryan off before he can finish his stupid thought. “Don’t run out there to warn them . . . Heroes die.”

Ryan lets out an exasperated sigh. “OK, OK. I hear you.” He throws an angry glare in my direction before turning to the group. “Everyone, follow me!”

There’s no argument as the still visibly stunned cluster shuffles forward. Margaux, in particular, is an absolute mess. With our rifles at the ready, Ryan and I step down onto the patch of grass by the path just outside the window frame. Otto’s frightened gaze meets my stoic mission face. I throw her a confident nod, and she tries her best to smile back. I elbow Ryan in the side to get his attention and swat at the air mouthing, “Go, go, go.” He motions at the group to follow as he and Percy take off, leading them toward the corner of the white-stone building forty meters away. They’ve only gone a few meters when Otto breaks away from the pack and comes running back toward me.

“What are you doing?” I whisper. “Get out of here.”

She looks me in the eyes with stony conviction. “If you’re thinking about running off to find Richard Blackstone without me, you can forget about it. We had a deal.”

“I’m coming to the bus. I swear.”

“What about the mission? We’ve come too far to stop now. I can’t believe you’re just gonna drop this.”

“I’m not dropping anything, and I didn’t forget our deal. I promised that I’d help get everyone to safety. I keep my promises; you’d better keep yours.” I grunt and push her away. “Go, get out of here. When the others are in sight of the bus, we’ll double back.”

“I’m trusting you,” Otto whispers, her eyes narrow with suspicion.

“Go. I’ll be right behind you. I promise.”

Otto turns and jogs off toward the corner, glancing back at me on every other step. I shake my head and crouch beside the Security Station with the rifle at my shoulder, staring through the gap in a freshly pockmarked U-shaped tree and wondering how the hell I got so soft. I can see the inactive service Drone we saw before. It’s still standing frozen in the same place, but now one of its arms has been shot off, and its torso is riddled with bullets. The giant R.A.M. has moved out of sight around the black angular structure on the corner, but I can still hear it firing in sporadic bursts, and I can clearly see some of the horrific damage that it’s done.

It’s not a pretty sight in the courtyard.

There are wide gouges scorched into buildings, smoke billows out of shattered windows, and pieces of camouflaged bodies lie among swaths of blood and scattered rifles. I turn away, angered and sickened. A simple infiltration and assassination—that’s all I wanted—but this whole day is turning out to be a twisted nightmare.

I look back to check on the group. Everyone has made it around the corner except for Professor Francis, who’s dragging a stumbling Dean behind him. Otto catches up with them and tries to help by shoving Dean along with her shoulder. In a few more seconds, they’ll make it, and I can get the hell out of . . .

STOMP . . .

The shudder of a heavy footstep makes me jump in my skin.

STOMP . . .

I should have run the moment I heard it.

STOMP . . .

That would have been the smart thing to do, Infinity.

STOMP . . .

Obviously, I’m not as smart as I think.

STOMP.

Because I just
had
to turn back and look, didn’t I?

There, standing at the corner of the building near the courtyard and towering at least nine meters high . . . is the R.A.M. Through the gap in the tree, I can see its huge, domed head with a pure-black strip sitting atop its massive rounded chest and shoulders . . . and it’s looking this way.

I’m about to turn and run for my life when movement to my left catches my eye and sends my already-peaking adrenaline levels skyrocketing. The reason why the robot is coming back has emerged from behind the tree, and he’s limping along the path barely ten paces from me.

It’s a soldier. A solitary, wounded soldier.

He’s bleeding badly from multiple wounds to his upper body, and the toe cap of one of his boots has been blown clean off. He sways off balance and reaches for the trunk of the tree to steady himself. Behind him, I can see a trail of bloody prints leading to a door in the adjacent building. The huge robot moves again.

STOMP . . . STOMP . . . STOMP . . .

The soldier’s wristband is drawing the R.A.M. to him like a fly to dead meat, which is exactly what we’re both gonna be if we don’t . . .

THUD!

The R.A.M. walks straight into the side of a building. With its head wildly rotating left and right, it raises one of its huge hands and scrapes it along the wall, almost like it’s trying to feel where to go next. I watch it closely; its movements are strange and clumsy. Its head swivels, and the plain black strip where its eyes should be pivots in this direction, but it doesn’t stop. Instead, it skims right past where the soldier and I are standing. Then it occurs to me: the reason why the R.A.M. is scanning for command modules is because . . . the stupid bucket of bolts can’t see! It must be firing blind at the power signals!

I don’t know why that robot is blind, and I don’t care; an advantage like that could give me the fighting chance I need to get this soldier to safety. I look at the insignia on his arm and read the name tag on his chest.

“Corporal Roth! We need to go!”

Seemingly oblivious to the walking death machine behind him, the soldier shakily raises his black visor with a bloodied hand, and a brutal truth is suddenly revealed. His eyelids are fluttering over a hollow stare glazed with panicked desperation. He’s looking right at me, but I can tell that he isn’t really seeing me.

Everything looks very different to someone in the final stages of shock.

I once saw a man try to scrape his own intestines back into his belly and seal it closed with mud because of shock. “Mother,” the soldier rasps. “Take me home.”

Corporal Roth’s mind has abandoned him.

Twenty meters away, the R.A.M. has stopped altogether. Desperately hoping it stays that way, I seize the moment and step toward the Corporal, but as soon as I do . . . that dreaded green laser beam snaps on. It fans out from the robot’s chest and begins scanning the wall of a nearby building. The jittering green line moves toward Corporal Roth, getting closer and closer with every passing second. When that laser finds his wristband, he’s dead—and I’ll be caught in the cross fire. I can’t let that happen.

“Your command module!” I shout. “Take it off! Throw it away!”

“Help me,” he whispers.

He’s not listening to me at all, and the laser scanner is only ten meters away.

With my rifle dangling from my shoulder, I run at the Corporal and grab at the command module on his wrist. “Mother,” he murmurs. He wraps an arm around me, and his legs buckle. He’s heavy. Grunting to hold him up, I pull at the wristband, struggling but awkwardly failing to pull the thumb of his other hand toward the diamond-shaped black stone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the laser coming closer, the bright-green line roving across the wall barely five meters away.

“Help me, please,” he sobs. Any second now, that R.A.M. is going to fire and kill us both. I’m desperate. This isn’t working, and time is running out.

I know what I have to do.

I heave the Corporal off me and kick him hard in the chest. He stumbles away, falling backward, bewilderment and confusion creasing the edges of his eyes as he flumps heavily onto his back, groaning. With a jagged lump in my throat, I pull the rifle to my shoulder. Every fiber in my being screams out for me to close my eyes, but I grit my teeth, knowing that only my careful aim can provide mercy to that poor, suffering man. I hold my breath . . . and squeeze the trigger. With a loud bang, the rifle kicks in my arms, and my bullet finds its mark.

Right through the center of Corporal Roth’s command module.

He screams out in pain, pulls his wrist to his chest, and I look toward the laser . . . It’s still coming. The shot didn’t deactivate the module. The laser line touches his boot. I raise my rifle again, hoping his hand will fall away from his body and I can get a second shot, but he holds it close, right over his heart. I can’t fire again without killing him. But that doesn’t matter now. It’s too late to help him. The laser flickers across his body.

Yellow.

It narrows into a focused beam directly on his wrist.

Red.

The robot’s weapon begins screaming, and I do the only thing I can. I turn . . . and I run.

I’m halfway to the corner of the white-stone building when the crackling squeal becomes a deafening roar. The terrifying noise only lasts for a few seconds. I don’t dare look back.