Intended Extinction (38 page)

Dodge gently
laid his best friend’s head onto the glossy floor. His mouth was dry. His breaths were short. No one else made a sound. We were all trying to accept the fact that our leader—our friend—was gone. Bollis was dead. A piece of me was missing. Ripped and gone forever.

Behind us, something made a whipping beep.

“We keep finding ourselves so close, yet untouchable.”

I swiveled around to find a holographic image of Slate replacing the giant “G.” He had changed into a sleeveless chest-plate, adorned with tactical pouches. His pants looked like those of an Undersuit, with little differences. Each of us stood, brandishing our weapons.

Dodge snatched Bollis’ ELBR and pushed his way into the front. He opened fire upon the image of Slate. The bullets soared through the technology field and hit the back wall. He turned to the pedestal and continued blasting everything with an unmatched fury. The advanced technology was unscathed.

Slate wore a stoic face. “What a waste.”

Dodge exploded. “Why haven’t you killed us yet?!”

Slate paced to the right. “There’s one more thing I have left to show you.”

“Then come out and get us! Quit hiding! Or is that all you can do?”

“If you keep letting us live, we’re eventually going to kill you,” I said, stepping down two tiers.

“Is that so?” Slate laughed. “Well then, I accept your challenge! As far as I’m concerned, it’s already two to zero.”

Thankfully, Dodge was too infuriated to understand the reference.

Slate’s dark eyes were in perfect resolution. I could see the emptiness within. He had no soul. He was a black hole, a husk without substance.

Dodge cursed and shook his head. “Why did you kill
him
?!”

Slate looked down upon the four of us with utter dominance. “To even the playing field, of course.”

Even the playing field?
What was he talking about?

“No. We’re done playing games.” Dodge stormed around the pedestal and ramped up the opposite set of stairs.

“My house,” said Slate, “my rules.”

The door in front of Dodge locked down; the glass was impenetrable. By now, Dodge was starting to become manic. He stretched out his arms and laughed. “Then let’s get on with it! If you can’t come fight us yourself, then we’ll handle the ones braver than you.”

Slate chuckled. “I want to introduce somebody to you. You might have heard of him.”

Dodge began to walk back to the center, joining us in our search for what was coming next. Slate stood still, floating above the dais.

Then, from the upper left corner, sprinting could be heard. The four of us aimed and followed the tromping boots as they neared our side of the amphitheater. Without warning, the glass broke and a blurry, shimmering black object was expelled from the second level.

The mysterious thing slammed into the floor in a kneeling position. Once the glass stopped sprinkling, the mysterious soldier stood proudly, chest protruding underneath heavy armor.

This one was different than the average metal-head. His helmet was super-conformed to his head, sprouting three symmetrical horns, curving off of his skull a few inches. The visor wasn’t really a visor at all, but a two-inch thick ring of reflective glass. His face looked like a bull’s-eye. The armor plating was similar to our Oversuits, but tweaked in different ways. A spike here, a glowing red armament there. Magnetically attached to his back was a slender rifle, bulky at the butt, precise and sequined with technology at the front.

“Where are your manners?” Slate said to the new metal-head. “Say hello, Gear.”

My mind pricked.
Gear?

Vexin stepped forward. “What the hell is this?”

The unknown metal-head removed his helmet. Sure enough, the trim nose, curly black hair, and stern attitude gave it away. I was staring into the fabled, pale face of Gear, the ex-Genesis member.

Slate held his hand out to Gear. “Meet your successor,” he said. “The perfect soldier!”

I tightened my grip on my rifle. Tara’s presence brushed up against me.

“Mark,” she whispered, “we’re not alone.”

Confused, I turned my attention to the other three entrances of the room. Metal-heads stalked the rows and paths between the desks and chairs. By now, the others had caught on. Dodge looted Bollis body for ammunition, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves on low reserves. Things were about to get ugly.

“It’s really a shame,” started Slate, “Gear hardly accomplished anything when he defected to GenoTec all those years ago. I don’t have to remind you that I owned both sides.”

“What did you do to him?” Tara asked, noticing Gear’s android-like movements and lifeless gaze.

“The same thing I should have done to all of you.”

Gear donned his helmet and the visor was electrified in neon red lights, shooting throughout his skull to the tips of the horns.

“
You
created him,” said Slate. “Everything you did as soldiers pooled into this project—Genesis. Except in
my
Genesis, God did not create a man. Man created a god.”

Our doppelganger withdrew his rifle and prepared for battle.

Slate stepped out of frame so only his voice could be heard. “You know what to do.”

The carnage commenced. Tara and I lunged backwards, falling behind different trenches between desks. The discharge of ammunition filled the air like a roaring airplane engine. Tara and I were on different tiers, but we could see each other through a small opening at the base of the desk’s wall. We crawled to the end of the row and fired upon approaching GenoTec soldiers.

In the backdrop, I heard Vexin’s shotgun blaring persistently. Dodge had scurried over to the other end of the amphitheater, taking a stand against four oncoming Volunteers. Gear was nowhere to be found, but a weird, high-powered assault rifle could be heard amongst the thrall, and I knew it belonged to him.

Tara and I crouched on the staircase, taking cover behind the edge of the desks. Bullets pelted our location, but it was nothing to worry about. I explained to Tara that we needed to grab more ammo from the fallen soldiers, so we sprinted out of cover, circling around to the other side of the Station.

At that moment, the metal-splitting sound of Gear’s rifle pummeled our area. One of his rounds glanced off of my back plate and sent me into the ground. I couldn’t breathe. The bullet had knocked the wind out of me. I lay there gasping, while Tara remained oblivious. She kept running and found the fallen Volunteers.

I rolled onto my back, grimacing in extreme pain. The heat of my bruise spread throughout my spine and my eyes watered. Was I hit? Where was the blood?

While I was gazing at the ceiling, my eyes squinted at one of the corners, seeing something mechanical come to life. Then at once my strength returned. I was staring into an auto-turret, ready to unleash hell upon my position.

Like a dying crab, I shuffled backwards, fearing it was too late.

But the turret turned toward Gear’s position and began to fire. Gear ceased his attack and I realized there were four turrets altogether, one in each corner. And I was certain that an eleven-year-old boy was commandeering them all.

With the coast clear, I shot back up just in time for Tara to bring me a few magazines.

“That kid knows his way around!” I yelled.

“
Now
are you happy I made you bring him along?”

We retraced our steps, helping Vexin with some more soldiers. Justin’s turrets fired upon the rest of the hardly-trained Volunteers, making short work of any extra resistance. After watching my bullet burst my final target’s helmet open, I caught a glimpse of a black mirage. It was Gear, weaving in and out of turret fire. I followed him with my sights, trying to get a shot off, but he was too fast and unnaturally flexible. He dashed over a desk, slid across another, maneuvering through the batch of corporate stations like a sea serpent.

Finally, he hurled something up at the turret located closest to him. The small spider-sized device shot at the turret like an arrow and stuck to the nearby corner. A second later, the tiny sticky-bomb detonated, leaving the turret crippled.

Tara and I ducked out of his next attack as it swept the area, splintering the metal desks one tier behind us.

“Go, go!” yelled Dodge, yards away.

Gear took heavy fire from both Vexin and Dodge as they converged on his position. Their tactic gave us time to recuperate and pave our own way toward Gear. The doppelganger spun over the second tier, still spurting out bullets, and disappeared behind the next trench.

It was time to spread our ranks.

I tapped Tara’s shoulder and directed her to move up to the top ring. She didn’t hesitate, all the while keeping her aim locked on Gear’s last position. Dodge caught my drift through the fuzzy blue “G” and jumped a few flights of stairs. Now we had the bastard pinned. There was absolutely no way he was coming out of this alive. Three turrets and four mercenaries versus one man. There was no—
Something churned and sawed through the floor and desks, running in a straight line to Tara. Massive destruction peeled away as the mysterious object cut through the ground. The weapon hit a bump and bounced upwards. Tara jumped over an entire tier as the weapon smashed against the desk she would have been at and subsequently exploded. The area rained with bits of metal and synthetic fibers.

Gear emerged from his hiding spot just as Vexin approached on the level below him. The clone lunged and wrapped his arm around Vexin’s neck, kicked off of the desk behind him, and they both toppled over the tier and into the next trench. A struggle ensued.

I rushed over to Tara. She lay against a broken chair in a trench, covered in debris.

“Hey!” I shook her body.

She didn’t move.

“Tara! Please!”

Her eyes flickered. My heart slowed. She gasped and coughed a cloud of dust into my face. Her head was cut up, but for the most part she looked okay. I helped her stand and we entered the battle again.

Just as we stepped into the bottom floor, Dodge had jumped onto the desk above the struggling duo, aiming his weapon into the fray. But he was too late. Gear thrust Vexin’s body upward and fired at Dodge with a handgun. The two bullets struck Dodge in the shoulder and hip, sending him back to the floor.

Vexin took advantage of the moment and heaved his entire weight onto Gear, pushing their combined mass into the stairwell path. I had to take the shot. But their struggle was too violent; I feared my aim wouldn’t be precise. Standing there like an idiot, letting Vexin be smacked around, Dodge saved me from an impossible decision.

Three bullets cut into the thick armor on Gear’s back. He seized in pain, releasing Vexin from underneath. A smoky mist sprayed from the joints and creases in his armor, shrouding everything within ten feet in a murky gray haze.

Dodge fired anyways. The ELBR’s high rate of fire purged the area, twanging off the metal surfaces. The cloud of smoke filtered throughout the room, disorienting the turrets and displacing our squad. I felt like I was walking through a dense swamp. I could hear my own breaths, as if they echoed against the mist.

When the smoke finally cleared, all I could see was Gear holding Vexin hostage with a five-inch dagger. Gear’s helmet was broken on one side, revealing a patch of black curls and one hyperactive eyeball. The thick blade danced at the edge of Vexin’s throat, nicking his skin ever so lightly.

“Drop it! Do it, now!” commanded Dodge, closing in.

Tara and I carefully approached from different angles.

“Shoot him, damn it!” croaked Vexin.

The inhumanity within Gear’s mind claimed victory. He drove the long blade underneath Vexin’s Oversuit, forcing it up through his ribcage.

I took the shot. Gear’s head jerked to one side and blood trailed behind him as he fell to the floor. Vexin dropped with him.

I dropped my rifle, running full speed at the twitching corpse of our clone. I fell onto his body and started laying my fists into his skull. At first, the pieces of his helmet nearly broke my bones, but once I got past the armor, the flesh smashed like a birthday cake. Again and again I brought my knuckles down. Blood and brain tissue slapped my face, but I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel much. I could only experience psychopathic vengeance. All of the hatred and black emotion broke free from their safe within my mind. I let
everything
out. I swore. I screamed.

When I started hitting solid floor, Tara finally ripped me away.

“Mark! Stop! For God’s sake!”

My eyes burned from Gear’s blood. I spat upon the floor and rolled away from Tara’s grasp. I crawled to Vexin’s limp body, feeling a hot fever rising within my sinuses.

Vexin lay on the floor, the knife still sticking out of him like a pitchfork. The pool of blood beneath him continued to grow. Dodge hovered over, saying nothing. Tara dragged her body over and the three of us listened to Vexin’s last struggle for words.

“I guess now,” he coughed up a dollop of crimson, “I guess now I can see my w-wife.”