Mechanical (14 page)

            "To the next house. Move," Ramirez's voice was even more cold and heartless than usual through the radio link.

            They assembled outside the house, the sergeant holding his rifle with his right hand, balancing the stock on his arm.

            The three Serpents were ten or fifteen feet apart, rifles aimed at the next house, crouching behind what cover they could find, trying to spot anything in the darkened windows.

            Tom lowered his rifle and opened the armor plate that protected his left-arm computer. He started flicking the sensor controls, trying to spot anything on the infrared or audio ranges.

            "I'm not getting anything. He must have moved on to another house," Tom sent though his link. He closed the armor panel and raised his rifle, pointing the heavy weapon at the house. "Or he's just laying low, waiting for us," Tom sent.

            "I'll flush him out!" The sergeant sent and moved up behind his cover.

            "Jebadiah! Get back here!" Tom sent urgently but the sergeant just kept advancing slowly towards the house, aiming his rifle from window to window, trying to cover them all.

            Tom glanced at Ramirez, but his Serpent just kept his rifle pointed at the house, trigger finger ready, another magazine already placed on the roof of the car he had taken cover behind.

            Sergeant Jebadiah reached the low fence encircling the house, paused there a moment and then vaulted over it, his ten-foot-tall Serpent negotiating it with ease. Then, he reached the house itself and crouched besides the entrance door.

            "Sirs, just be ready to shoot when you see—"

            The sergeant did not have time to finish. A huge black Serpent fist burst out of the wall of the house with a force that made broken bricks and wood chips fly across the street. The Serpent hand grabbed Jebadiah and pulled him inside the house, breaking the house's wall in two, exposing bricks and broken wooden panels.

            "Jebadiah!" Tom's shout was drowned by the sound of Ramirez's shooting. Ramirez's Serpent fired almost continuously, emptying his magazine in less than five seconds, pulling it out and replacing it with another so fast it almost did not interrupt his shooting.

Tom did not shoot. He just looked on as the large-caliber bullets slammed into the house one after the other, breaking the door and parts of the wall that remained intact, uprooting a young tree that once stood in front of the house, and making a jagged section of the second floor crash down into the ground floor .Wooden chips, furniture parts, plaster and bricks flew everywhere from the many small explosions the Barrett bullets created. Ugly yellow flames sprang up, lurid and vivid in the night.

            After about one minute, Ramirez stopped shooting. He replaced his last spent magazine and got up carefully, leaving the dense cordite cloud his shooting had created. He motioned for Tom to move, and he started advancing towards the stricken house.

            Tom could see nothing beyond the destruction the shooting had created. He could not see Jebadiah, nor the captain's Serpent.

           
Come on, Tom. It's just an exercise. Everything will be all right after it. They will put Jebadiah back together, and we'll laugh about the whole thing. It's just an exercise.

           
Where is my desktop now?
Tom couldn't help thinking.
Where's my keyboard.

            Tom got up from behind his cover and started moving slowly towards the house. His rifle was aimed at it, but he was not really looking for a target, just hoping to see that Jebadiah was all right inside the half-demolished house, where wooden beams, shelves and bricks were still falling among the many small conflagrations started by the fire fusillade of the heavy-caliber rounds. Ramirez advanced slowly from the north of the house.

            They both reached it a few moments later, seeing nothing inside the house except the many small fires and a great cloud of dust. They entered the house and moved through the debris slowly, alert for any sound or motion, but they saw and heard nothing. No trace remained of either Sergeant Jebadiah's or Captain Emerson's Serpents.

            After a few moments of sifting through the wreckage, Ramirez motioned for Tom to leave.

            "But—"

            Tom's transmission was cut short by Ramirez, who slapped Tom's face with the long talon-like fingers of his hand.

            "Emerson is tracking our radio. No radio."

            Ramirez went out into the street again. Tom followed him hesitatingly, holding his rifle as if he didn't know what to do with it.

            A moment later both Serpents froze. Out on the street, in plain sight, stood Captain Emerson's Serpent. He held up Sergeant Jebadiah's Serpent, one hand on its throat and one hand on its torso. The sergeant's Serpent struggled weakly, but Captain Emerson held him aloft from behind and the thrashings of the sergeant's one arm and legs could not reach the captain.

            "No!"

            Even before the echo of Tom's shout faded away, the captain moved his arms, and in one smooth motion, ripped away the sergeant's head clear off his body with a tortured metallic tearing sound.

            The captain dropped the sergeant's head and his body in one black pile, turned and sprinted away, moving at the top of his Serpent's speed.

            Ramirez was already running and shooting. Small explosions of concrete spurted around Captain Emerson's Serpent from the impact of Ramirez's bullets.

            To his great surprise, Tom found himself keeping pace with Ramirez, the street moving beneath him so fast he could not keep track of any details. Ramirez kept shooting, but Captain Emerson's Serpent weaved from side to side, and Ramirez kept missing. Tom still kept pace, one time leaping over a car, his leap taking him at least ten feet in the air above its roof.

            "He's got the sergeant's rifle," Ramirez now sent through the radio link. Tom did not pay attention to Ramirez. He brought up his rifle and pressed the trigger but nothing happened. He pressed it again but the rifle did not fire.

            The safety! Tom fumbled with the safety while the noise from Ramirez's shots engulfed them. The two Serpents ran down the street, weaving between and above stricken cars, trees and sidewalk benches. Tom finally flicked the safety, aimed his rifle and sent out a few shots that went nowhere near the running Serpent they were chasing.

            Captain Emerson jumped up onto an SUV, leaving a deep impression from his claws on its engine hood, turned to the side and rounded a corner, sprinting even faster than he had before.

            Ramirez and Tom chased after the captain. Ramirez held his fire, waiting for a clear shot, while Tom was fumbling with the magazine catch to free the empty magazine and replace it.

            They rounded the corner and Tom looked up, not understanding what he saw. The captain stood calmly in the middle of the street, one Barrett anti-materiel rifle in each hand, holding them as if they were handguns. He raised the rifles and squeezed the triggers.

            Tom tried closing his eyes, but he couldn't, of course. Stumbling, he fell sideways into a house's fence, crashing through its front gate. He rolled across a small lawn before he reached the house, breaking through its front wall and entrance. During this time, Tom had managed to look back to see what was going on, though he dearly wished he hadn’t.

            From a distance of less than seventy feet, Captain Emerson fired at Ramirez, his two rifles shooting in unison, filling the air with acrid black smoke, while the noise of the rifles' shots thundered down the street.

            The heavy bullets hit Ramirez again and again, small bright explosions blossoming on his Serpent's head, front torso and arms. Ramirez's Serpent twitched repeatedly as the heavy bullets slammed into it, driving it back as if a giant was kicking and punching it. It stumbled and fell, then rolled over into the street, smashing a green Volkswagen beetle that had the misfortune to be parked in the wrong place at the wrong time.

            Captain Emerson emptied his ten-round magazines, threw away Sergeant Jebadiah's rifle and sprang forward, reaching Ramirez before the lieutenant had time to recover and rise. Captain Emerson kicked down with one clawed foot, creating a crunching sound not unlike a coke can being crushed but magnified one hundred times. Then, the captain bent down and lifted Lieutenant Ramirez's Serpent, holding it behind from its neck as it had Sergeant Jebadiah's.

            Ramirez struggled, twisting his whole body, but he couldn't reach the captain's Serpent. Tom froze while Captain Emerson turned slowly in his direction, his featureless viper head staring right at Tom, the horns on his head making him seem like an ancient vengeful god about to consume his sacrificial victim.

           
Tom, do something. You have a rifle in your hand. Shoot him, shoot the bastard. Shoot through Ramirez. Do something! Don't just lay there!
However, although Tom's Serpent body was operating perfectly, he still felt a leaden weight smothering him: the weight of his fear. Tom could not move, nor change his sensor's focus, nor do anything else but stare at Captain Emerson's hand on Ramirez's throat.

            Tom waited for the crunching sound he knew and dreaded as Ramirez's head was slowly pulled away from his body with the sound of a thousand electronic components wailing their death. Ramirez's Serpent, who a brief moment ago had been a terrible fighting machine, was now tossed carelessly onto the street like so much matt-black-colored garbage.

            It was not the sound of the Serpent's head being torn off, nor was it the sound of Captain Emerson putting a fresh magazine into his rifle. It was the sound that Ramirez's head made as it rolled away bumping along the sidewalk that finally shook Tom into action. Somehow, that dull bump of composite armor against concrete was more terrible than anything Tom had experienced so far.

            Tom found the street flying beneath him, again. Houses passed on both sides so fast he couldn't make out any detail. He jumped over cars and other obstacles on the road without having the time to understand what he was doing. Trees zoomed past him so quickly he barely registered their presence at all. Tom could now hear the power core in his torso pulsing, but it seemed to him to be the fluttering of a rabbit's heart, the heart of a prey about to be consumed by a terrible predator.

            Behind him, Tom heard other sounds: heavy footsteps on the street and the whistle of the wind on the body of another Serpent. Captain Emerson was right behind him and the thuds following Tom were gaining in strength. Captain Emerson was approaching fast.

            Tom could think of nothing, conceive of nothing, or imagine anything except that tearing sound when the two Serpents' heads had been ripped from their bodies. But slowly something penetrated the black cloud of panic and despair that filled his mind. He realized he could hear another sound, a strong steady pulsing getting louder. It was Captain Emerson's power core.

            Tom tried to move faster, coercing every ounce of speed his Serpent could provide. He even threw his rifle away. Then he opened the black panel protecting his Serpent's computer display and set the power core to its highest output. But whatever he did, however he weaved between the houses, the sound of the chasing Serpent was getting louder and louder. He knew his Serpent's body glowed with heat, but it was irrelevant. He just ran and did not try to hide.

            Suddenly, Tom stopped. He had leaped from rooftop to rooftop and now he had reached the end of the southern street in the urban combat range. Beyond the house Tom now stood on, there was nothing but barren plain and a few scattered rocks. Tom had one instant to consider— one instant to bring his fear-clouded mind into focus. He could probably travel faster there without having to negotiate houses and trees and things, but so could Emerson, and he had no chance of hiding there.

            With a small whimper, Tom turned and plunged into the street again, jumping high from house to house, trying to advance as fast as he could. His Serpent was getting warmer as the power core pumped more energy and the machine shed the excess heat away.

            But then the sounds of chasing coming from behind were replaced by the thumping of dull explosions. Knowing he would regret it, Tom glanced back once, his irresistible curiosity briefly overcoming his fear. Tom saw without understanding the house right behind him explode. There were no flames or smoke; the house just broke apart with a great deal of dust and debris flying all over.

            He's moving right
through
the houses, was Tom's thought before he directed his attention once more to his own escape.

            But he was too late. The pause at the edge of the urban area and the glance to the rear had created too much of a delay. Tom felt a powerful hand grab him by the neck from behind and another hand grab his right shoulder. He was then lifted up in the air, feeling as powerless as a new-born baby.

           
 It's all over. It was all for naught. I lost. Everything is lost.
Tom hung limply, his hands and feet dangling, imagining the sounds of Ramirez's and Jebadiah's heads being torn from their bodies.