Killswitch (6 page)

The big man smirked. “I know a back way out.”

10

Chase followed the hood down the hallway, then up an old rotting staircase and through a dark tunnel. Switchblade didn't have a light, so he had to feel the walls to keep himself going straight.

“You know I can see in the dark,” Chase told him. “Why don't you let me lead?”

“You don't know where you're going, genius.” Switchblade lifted his arms and ran his fingers along the low rock ceiling.

“I'm going down a dark path. When I see something other than that, I'll ask for directions.”

Switchblade stopped, motioned with his arm to usher Chase ahead of him, and grumbled under his breath.

“Now maybe we can move a little faster. I know you people have laserlights—I saw them.” Chase stepped forward and Switchblade almost knocked him over.

“Sorry,” he said with an unremorseful tone. “I need permission to take a laserlight. And you seemed to be in a hurry.”

“Just put your hand on my shoulder.” Chase flinched when the man followed his instruction. He'd rather not be so close, but it was better than getting knocked down by the big thug. “I have no intel on this place. No record of it being built. What do you know about it?”

“So, you don't know everything?” Switchblade laughed. “Poor robot don't know as much as he thought.”

“It was just a simple question. I guess you don't know either.”

“I didn't say that. The artist—the one who did the painting that hides the portal to the bunker—”

“
Ciel Bleu Domaine
—Blue Sky Field,” Chase said. “The artist was Jean Pateaux. He was a bit eccentric. Spent some time in a mental ward. Never amounted to anything in the art world.”

“That's all you got?” Switchblade asked.

“I like his work, what I saw of it. Especially Blue Sky Field.”

“It's a stupid name for our base, but all the ladies liked it,” Switchblade said. “The crazy artist had some crazy friends. They thought the world was going to end, and they built this place to live out the apocalypse. Nobody up top knew what was going on. No permits, no outside help. If the Canadian government—when there was such a thing—knew what they were doing to the natural caves down here, those artsy goofs would've been locked up. They all died off before any of them needed a hiding place.”

“I knew about the cavern,” Chase stepped carefully. “I have some pictures taken in the 1940s by explorers.”

“What do you mean, you have pictures?”

“In my…In the exoself.” Chase ran his hand over the top of his head.

Switchblade's grip on Chase's shoulder loosened. “Yeah, right. Molly knew about the place because she dated one of the artists. And when the people in her church started getting arrested, she told the group about it. And now, here we are. Living like rats.”

“What did you do up there that forced you down here?”

“Nothin'. That's why I can go up and not worry about getting caught.”

“Then why don't you stay up?” Chase asked.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you, Charlie?”

Chase didn't waste any more time getting to know the man. “I see some boards about fifty feet ahead. Right side.”

“That's where we're going. I don't know why
you
had to come under.”

“To move everything Mel hid inside me into the computers. So all the churches around the world will be in one system with an untraceable connection.”

“Why didn't the girl just program the computer? Why get you and that…exoself involved?”

“Ask
her
.” Chase reached the boarded-up section of the wall.

Switchblade moved his hands over the planks in the darkness and pried the wood loose. He pulled a lever hidden inside the wall and a passage to the outside opened. “After you, Charlie.”

Chase stepped to the opening. Afternoon sun peered through a space just big enough to climb through, but something blocked it. “Where are we?”

“Two buildings down. Gotta move that refuse bin out of the way. I can do it, but since you're a guest, I'll let you have the privilege.”

Chase pushed the old metal contraption with one hand and slid it out of the way. More sunlight filled the tunnel.

“Impressive, Charlie.”

Chase stepped into an alley. He inhaled cold air, blew it out, and lifted his face to the sun. The big man squeezed through the opening, catching his hood on the edge. It slid off the back of his head, and he reached for it and yanked it back into place. Then he grabbed his mirrored glasses from a pocket and slipped them on.

“I guess you already disabled the cameras and got rid of whatever satellite might be passing over us.”

“Got that done back in the tunnel while you were hanging on to me like a blind man.” Chase pulled his own cap tighter and put on his shades. He returned the large bin to its position in front of the hole in the wall. “Now what?”

“You tell me. You're the one on a mission. But I'll tell you this: we'd better not go back without those vegetables.”

“Right,” Chase said. “They're in a warehouse a mile from here. Rinetoul Road. But we'll go there last. We don't want to be lugging sacks of beans around town.”

“So? What, or who, are we looking for?”

“My boss from Synvue. You worked on Synvue property, right? Did you ever meet Kerstin Bennett?”

“Your lover from another life?” Switchblade smirked. “I was gone when the two of you showed up and started changing lives. Worked for some execs. I left when they did.”

“How do know about my relationship with Kerstin? We kept it hidden from the public.”

“Melody told me.”

Chase pulled off his shades and studied the man's face. “Did you know Mel in Chicago?”

“Just met her a few weeks ago.”

Chase slipped the shades back on and sucked in a breath. Should he trust this guy? “I think Kerstin might be here.”

“So check travel permits, the hotel registry—there's only one in town.”

“She's not there. And her permit is open ended. She can go where she wants, when she wants.” Chase stepped into the quiet street at the east end of the alley. “Where would a traveler hang out in this town? Cyber stops, restaurants?”

“You're reaching for straws, man. This ain't no tourist town. What makes you think she's here?”

Chase ignored the question. “I saw a café when I first arrived the other night.” He turned right and started walking. Switchblade caught up with him. A minute later they stood outside the café, looking in through the plate glass. No sign of Kerstin. Chase went right in.

“Hey, wait. You dummy, what are you doing?” Switchblade followed him into the place that contained six tables, a counter with eight stools, some dim lights, and an old woman wearing black. Switchblade pulled off his sunglasses. Chase left his on.

Chase spoke in perfect French. He asked the woman if she'd seen a tall, pale woman with long black hair. She might have been wearing a red dress.

“
Non, pas un, mais vous a venir sauf la régulière. Prendre un café
.”

Chase slanted his head toward Switchblade. “No one has been here except her regular customers.”

“
Prendre un café!
” the woman said.

“What is she yelling about?” Switchblade asked.

“She wants us to order coffee. You got any WR bills?”

“No, I don't got no bills! Man, let's get out of here.”

“
Pas de café, merci
,” Chase said to the woman.

“
Sortez ensuite!
”

Chase and Switchblade walked out the door and onto the brick sidewalk.

“You ever speak French before you got that exoself put in you?” Switchblade asked.

“Never.”

“Even the accent sounds real.”

“I thought this was a friendly little town.” Chase brushed his hands down the front of his jacket.

“People are skittish all over, Charlie. What'd she yell at you?”

“She told us to get out, that's all. You're right, this is pointless. Let's get the beans and go home.”

“Home?” Switchblade wore that annoying little smirk of his.

The bodyguard was right. Chase was a homeless man, except for the underground. The townhouse in Chicago seemed foreign to him now. The last place he'd lived before his escape was the Helgen Institute. The place of miracles. The place where he'd sent Kerstin. “That's where she'd be if she had the transplant.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kerstin. She should be in the desert,” Chase said. “I don't know why I'm looking for her.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “But the fresh air did clear my head.”

“I thought she was in New York. Then you said she might be here. Now she's in the desert?”

“If she did what I told her, she went to the Helgen Institute for a kidney.”

“So, look it up. Can't you find out?”

“Not that easy. I don't have access to anything related to the Helgen.” Chase pulled down his shades and lifted his gaze to the sky. “I wish I could talk to Robert.”

“Your creator, right?”

“In a manner of speaking. He's the doctor who made the organs, designed the processors. But others, like Mel, wrote the code that keeps me connected to the cyber world.”

“So, you sent your old lover to your doctor because she needed a kidney. How romantic.” Switchblade snickered and shook his head.

“Don't read anything into it. We're done. It was over a long time ago.”

“And now you want Melody.”

Chase stopped and looked Switchblade in the eyes. “Mel and I…It's none of your business.”

“I'm making it my business, robot.” Switchblade clenched his fists. “You're here to protect us? I'm here to protect
her
. Don't know what the girl would want with a little white boy, anyway.”

Chase walked backwards, keeping his eyes on Switchblade. “Are you coming, or not? I mean, I can carry everything back by myself if that's what you want.”

Switchblade rolled up both sleeves and popped his neck. With long strides, he advanced toward Chase. “I'm coming.”

Chase stumbled when the exoself delivered a warning. He pulled off his sunglasses and surveyed the sky. “S-drone.”

11

Switchblade looked to the sky and turned a circle. “I don't see nothing.”

“It's a mile out but it's headed this way.”

“So let's get on with this.”

“We don't need it following us to the warehouse.” Chase moved close to the gray wall of the nearest building where a block partition separated two small offices.

“You sure it's headed here? Drone factory is nearby, you know. They test them out in the fields. Never seen one in town, though.”

“It's right behind you.”

Switchblade spun around. “Get down behind that wall.”

Chase dove behind it. He pressed himself into the corner. Switchblade remained on the sidewalk with his arms crossed and whistled a tune as if nothing unusual were happening.

The drone hovered twenty feet above them. Then dropped to ten feet. Switchblade watched it, even gave it a little wave. Then the thing lifted into the air and flew over the buildings to the left.

“What'd I tell you,” Switchblade said. “They don't know me from Adam.”

The pick-up was easy—no one was around to notice the two were not the usual up top retrievers. Chase carried one large sack and Switchblade carried another.

They entered the alley an hour and a half after they'd sneaked out. Chase pushed the metal bin aside and peered into the tunnel, which was now well lit.

“Both of you stop right there,” a man holding a laserlight said.

Chase didn't recognize him. He wore brown coveralls and a scar ran down his left cheek.

“Amos thinks maybe he'll just let you stay up top. The two of you can replace the five who had to come underground today.”

“I'm sorry,” Chase said. “It was my fault.”

“We tell each other everything and we don't wander off or go up top without permission. Especially you, Mr. Sterling…uh, Redding.”

“I'll talk to Amos. Let us in.”

The guy stepped aside, and Chase crawled through the hole and into the tunnel. Switchblade followed and tossed in the bag of beans. Chase pulled the refuse bin back into place.

Switchblade grabbed the shoulder of the man with the light. “You know I can take care of myself up there, Nate. And I know how important this man here is. Nothing happened.”

“Except you got supplies, right?”

Switchblade pointed to the beans. Chase still carried his bag.

“I'm not worried about it, Switch. But Amos is fuming.”

Chase couldn't imagine the man losing his composure. “Like I said, it's my fault.”

“Don't need you to stand up for me, Charlie.” Switchblade picked up the bag of beans and hoisted it onto his shoulder. “You didn't make me do nothing I didn't want to do.”

No one spoke as their footsteps echoed through the damp hallway that led to the underground complex.

Then Chase stopped. He wanted to flee.

At the end of the tunnel, waiting in an alcove… Kerstin in her red dress.

Code flashed across her form.

She faded, flashed back for a second, and then disappeared.

Chase wiped cold sweat off his brow with his free hand and kept going. The guy in brown—Nate—had orders to deliver him and Switchblade to Amos. They were on their way to the principal's office. Maybe they'd get detention. Or expelled.

Mel waited with several others in the command center. Her eyes shot a few darts their way. But she didn't say anything.

Nate opened the door and motioned them in to Amos's private quarters. The room was bigger than Chase's and had a large desk with a computer, a recliner, seemingly from the last century, and a small refrigerator. The perks of being a leader in the Underground Church.