Judge Dredd (26 page)

“Hey, you know, man.”

“Yeah, I do.” Dredd drew in a breath. “I . . . I made a mistake. I’m sorry I misjudged you, Ferguson.”

“And you’ll never arrest me again.”

“I’ll—okay, I’ll never arrest you again.”

Fergie grinned. “All right, man.”

“Take it easy.”

“I’ll do that, Dredd. What I think I’ll do, I think I’ll just—sorta . . .”

Fergie closed his eyes.

Dredd grabbed his shoulders. “Ferguson?
FERGUSON, YOU TALK TO ME, DAMN YOU!”

Dredd let him go. He clenched his fists until blood came to his palms, felt the fury begin deep in his belly, felt the fire race through his veins.

“RIIIIIICO!”

He screamed out the name, grabbed the Remington, came to his feet and ran toward the blue pods.

“Come out of there. Come out of there, Rico!”

He was driven by a rage he could scarcely contain, an anger that blinded him to caution and reason, a hatred that could only focus on Rico’s face, Rico’s laughter, Rico’s silver eyes.

He stalked through the eerie blue light, through the maze of glowing pods. Rico’s spawn surrounded him, a company of ghosts, their coral lips open, their flesh unearthly white. A man, slim and unborn. He lifted pale arms above his colorless flesh, and seemed to mock him with a smile.

“Rico!”

Dredd squeezed off two shots. A crystal pod shattered, the clone blew apart in a blossom of pink and white.

“Rico, I’m coming for you. I’m coming . . .”

A hail of gunfire came at him from the dark. Dredd turned, went to his knees, firing back in a wicked arc. Incubators shattered, spilling slippery flesh to the floor. One of Dredd’s shots hit a tall accelerator, a black-and-silver column at the heart of the Janus lab. Lightning crackled along the tower, snaked to the top, then exploded in a blinding fireball, showering the pods with comets of molten steel.

The incubators cracked. A flood of thick amniotic fluid hissed in the terrible heat.

Dredd saw him, then, as the computer burst into flame. Rico ran. Dredd fired, blowing a hole in the console, blinding a thousand red eyes.

The fire would keep Rico busy a minute, a minute and a half. Dredd broke into the open, keeping low, heading straight for Rico’s hiding place. Rico caught him there, raised up and raked his path with automatic fire. Dredd cursed and scrambled for cover, lead tearing the heel off his boot.

Where the hell was Hershey? She had gone after Ilsa hours
—
no, only minutes ago. Time was playing its tricks again.

Another incubator exploded. Blue fire webbed the walls, sizzled the concrete floor. Dredd saw the flames beginning to burst from the equipment on the far side of the lab.
Getting hot in here. Going to get a hell of a lot worse .
. .

Rico laughed, a high-pitched, grating sound that set Dredd’s nerves on edge.

“Central, hatch the first set of clones,” Rico shouted. “On my command—now!”

“Rico, don’t do that.”

“The cloning process is not finished, Chief Justice Rico. The clones will be only sixty-three percent complete.”

“I don’t care if they’re
pretty
or not. I want the damn clones now!”

Central’s voice droned in answer, but Dredd didn’t hear. Something exploded down below with the roar of a blast furnace, spewing a ball of yellow fire up through the floor. The place was going up; it couldn’t last long.

Hershey, where the hell are you!

Hershey knew the woman was there, somewhere in the maze of piping, the bundled strands of cable and wire. She cursed her luck, letting Ilsa slip away from her into the damn maintenance area at the back of the lab. Not her best move of the day, she decided. Rico and Dredd were ripping the Janus lab apart. She could already feel the heat, see the flames licking at the pods. When that firestorm got back here, with umpty-zillion volts of power droning above her head—that, and pipes full of oxygen, nitrogen, God knew what . . .

Ilsa moved. Hershey heard her, then saw a slim shadow scramble by only two yards away. Hershey came to her feet, then threw herself into the dark. Ilsa cried out, twisted, and swung a heavy wrench at Hershey’s head. Hershey drew back, winced as the wrench caught her shoulder, sending a numbing pain down the length of her arm.

Ilsa laughed. “Judge bitch! Keep away from me!”

“I wouldn’t get near you on a bet,” Hershey told her, “but duty calls, friend!”

Hershey feinted to the left. Ilsa swung her weapon again. Hershey jerked aside, balled her fist and hit Ilsa solidly in the belly.

Ilsa gasped, stumbled, reached out, and caught herself. Hershey caught the beginning of a smile on the woman’s face, tried to pull herself away, knew there wasn’t any time.

“ ’Bye, honey,” Ilsa said. She kicked out hard, a vicious blow with plenty of power behind it.

Hershey nearly went under. She felt something break, fell back. She turned on her heels and saw the incubator coming, covered her face with her hands.

Crystal shattered, raining on her back in a rush of bilious fluid. The thing flopped out, slick as a fish, its head lying inches from Hershey’s. Hershey stared, felt the hairs creep up the back of her neck. The thing made a strangled noise in its throat, tried to pull itself erect on boneless flipper arms. It came at Hershey on its wet, bare muscle, pulsing veins clinging to bare bone. It looked up at Hershey. A bubble came out of its mouth. It sighed once, dropped with a sickening sound.

Hershey got to her feet, felt the sharp bite of pain on her ribs. She looked around for Ilsa. Ilsa was gone. Black smoke was creeping across the floor. Hershey was sure she couldn’t go back the way she’d come. And there was nothing but dead and smelly mutants up ahead.

Damn it, there is absolutely nothing about this in the Regs, not even anything close.

T
he flames licked at the heart of the pods, sending shadows leaping against the far walls. Dredd wrapped a shred of his shirt around his nose and mouth, but the smoke was too thick; nothing short of getting the hell out of there would help.

He couldn’t see Rico at all. The forest of incubators had turned into the center of Hell. Fire shattered the crystal tubes, mutants writhed and twisted in pain, caught in the terrible moment of horror between birth and fiery death. Dredd turned away. He didn’t need any more of this. The image was etched forever in his mind.

Rico caught him, his mind drifting for a second, his thoughts where a Judge’s thoughts had no right to be. The manual made it clear:
Daydreaming
is spelled D-E-A-D.

Rico hit him with a broken steel bar. The blow caught him just below the knee. Dredd went down. Rico raised his weapon for the final, killing blow. Dredd rolled, caught Rico’s leg with one hand, jerked him off his feet. Rico laughed, kicked him in the head. Dredd shook off the pain, grabbed Rico and held on. Rico grunted, tore his way free and pounded Dredd in the face. Dredd took the punishing blows, felt his mouth fill with blood. Dredd kicked him in the crotch. Rico took the blow on his thigh, pushed Dredd away, backed off. Dredd was sure Rico had fractured his leg. He watched Rico scramble along the floor, grab his Lawgiver.

“Shit,” Dredd said.

Rico laughed, gave the weapon a loud command. “Grenade!”

“All lethal rounds exhausted . . . Select
. . .”

“Standard fire!”

“All lethal rounds exhausted
. . .
Select
. . .”

“Smoke bomb, damn you!”

Dredd saw the muzzle flash, saw the round coming at him in a blur. It sizzled, then blossomed into a ball of liquid fire.

Rico howled. “Central, turn off the overhead lighting—now!”

The room went dark. Flames lit the curved walls of the room. Dredd struggled to his feet, fighting the heat that tried to gnaw through his chest. He turned on his back, gagged on the oily black smoke.

“Central,” he yelled, “turn on the damn lights!”

“Request denied. You are an escaped convict, Joseph Dredd. Surrender to authorities at once.”

Dredd swore, tore at his armor, finally ripped it free and tossed it across the room. Another pod exploded, sending mutant parts high into the air. Something fell close by. It had a half-sized head. The head looked just like his own.

“Central . . . Central, look, I’ll give myself up, okay? I’ll surrender to Chief Justice Rico . . . Locate, please.”

“Chief Justice Rico has entered Lift Nine-Nine-Oh . . . through the A door to your right.”

Dredd pulled himself up. Lift? What lift? It had to be the other way in, the real way to the Janus lab.

Dredd tried to find his Remington. The heat drove him back. The A door took him down a long and narrow corridor. It finally came to an end at a metal door. An ordinary button. A glowing arrow pointing up.

Dredd punched the button. The door slid back, shut again quickly, locking him in. He could feel the lift moving fast, rushing him from the depths. Where? Where did the thing go? It didn’t much matter. It was here, or stay down there.

He smelled Rico. Smelled his sweat. On the floor, smeared on the wall, Rico’s blood. He thought about Ferguson, dead back there. He’d done his part and then some. More than anyone could ask. Hershey . . . she had to be all right. He should have stayed, found her, but there was nothing left down there . . . nothing but the dead.

The door slid open. Dredd sucked in fresh air. Lightning flashed in the distance, crackling through the towers of Mega-City. Rain beat down upon his head. Soot ran down and stung his eyes.

Rico stood just beyond him. His face was red with blood.

“Waiting for you, brother. Thought you’d never come.”

“I’m here,” Dredd said.

Rico shook his head. He aimed the Lawgiver at Dredd’s chest. Thunder rolled through the blackened skies. Dredd guessed they were fifty, sixty stories high, the roof of Heavenly Haven, above the streets of Red Quad, where it had all begun.

“This is how you repay me, brother, for telling you the truth? How can you go against me, Joseph? I’m the only person in the world, in your
life,
who never lied to you.”

“You broke the Law. I did what I had to do—”

“Oh, no, brother . . .” Rico’s terrible grin twisted his features. “No, we won’t go through
that
business again. You will not limp away telling me about the
Law!”

Rico closed his eyes, opened them again. Rain pelted off his face. He raised the Lawgiver, let its muzzle rest on Dredd’s head.

“Joseph Dredd, do you stand ready to answer for your crimes?”

“Rico—”

“Dredd!”
Rico shook his weapon in Dredd’s face. “I hereby judge you, Joseph Dredd. To the charge of betraying your best friend . . .
Guilty.
To the charge of betraying your own flesh . . .
Guilty.
And finally, to the charge of being human, when we could have been . . .
gods! Guilty!”

Rico’s eyes went wide. “The sentence is . . .
death!”

Rico squeezed the trigger.

Click.

“All lethal rounds exhausted . . . Select
. . .”

“No!”

Dredd let out a breath. Rico had forgotten. The madness had overwhelmed him, clouded his reason, shattered his mind like the crystal columns below.

“Damn you, fire!” Rico’s hands shook. He stared at the Lawgiver, as if the weapon, too, had betrayed him.

“All lethal rounds exhausted . . . Select
. . .”

“Fire—FIRE!”

Dredd moved. His right hand struck out, a short sweep to Rico’s jaw. He forced the fingers of his left hand over the weapon’s grip, clamping down on Rico’s hand.

Rico looked at him. “Joseph . . . ?”

“DNA accepted,”
the gun-voice whirred.
“Select
. . .”

“Signal flare!” said Dredd.

Dredd fought against Rico’s grip, wrenched the weapon up, away from them both. The night turned red. The flare singed Rico’s face and rocketed into the night.

Rico cried out, stumbling blindly away from Dredd. One foot found the edge of the roof, the other stepped into empty space.

“Rico!”

Rico flailed his arms, fell away. Dredd lunged for him, caught him by the wrist. Rico hung there, blinked up at Dredd with blind eyes.

“You saved me, Joseph? Why did you do that?”

The rain whipped down in a fury, the cold drops hard as stones.

“I’ll get you out of here. Hang on. You don’t have to die, Rico.”

Rico smiled. “All right, Joseph. I won’t.”

He brought his free hand up quickly, grabbed Dredd’s wrist and forced his hand free.

“Life sentence, Joseph. Works fine for me.”

Rico slid free.

“No!”

Dredd watched him turn slowly, his arms spread wide, watched him grow smaller, disappear in the dark veil of rain. His face was still there.

His face. My face . . .

He knew he was alone once more . . . hollow, nothing inside. Rico had taken it all away once, now he had taken it again.

Dredd was aware of the presence, the feeling of another person near. He looked up, saw Ilsa Hayden, the rain-soaked dress clinging to her slender form, the dark hair plastered against her cheeks. She held the Remington an inch from his head, showed him a gentle smile, drew her lips together, let them part like a lover’s tender kiss.

Usa’s head disappeared. A red mist hung in the air for a moment, then swept away in the driving rain. Ilsa’s body folded, slid to the edge of the roof, and followed Rico down.

Dredd turned. Hershey stood in the lift, a Lawgiver clutched in her hand. Behind her, Fergie sagged against the wall. His face was pale. A strip of Hershey’s uniform was wrapped tightly around his chest.

Dredd looked at Hershey. He shook his head at Fergie.

“You’re alive,” Dredd said simply.

“What did you think I’d do,
die
or something? Right when you and me were just getting to be good friends?”

“We are not friends, Ferguson. We know each other, we . . . Okay, we’re
acquaintances.
I’ll go as far as that.”

“Right. Close enough. How about that—other stuff?”