Mine (27 page)

T
HE RECLAIMER FELT
a stir via one of her sensors. A creature was close.

This was not the first time she’d received such a warning. They happened now and then when a creature wandered into the vicinity of the land above. The primitive beings would usually linger for a while before wandering back to wherever their creature lives took them. On a few occasions, however, one or two did venture close enough that the Reclaimer needed to deploy measures to urge them away.

She set up a sub-routine to alert her if the current situation deemed further action. She then returned her attention to analyzing the Translator’s data and fine-tuning plans for implementation of her next stage.

S
EVENTY-ONE

Joel

W
HEN THE BOYS’
cabins
came into view, it almost felt to Joel like the intervening years had never happened, and at any second his old camp mates would emerge from the bungalows on their way to the lake. Then a cold breeze brushed across his face, and the sturdy cabins of his youth became rundown huts that would never shelter anyone again.

A hand touched his shoulder.

“We should keep moving,” Leah said.

“Moving. Yes, yes. Moving,” Mike echoed beside her.

Soon they passed the shower and restroom facility—the large building in near total collapse—and hiked by the girls’ cabins, which mirrored the condition of the boys’.

The stables were now only a pile of rotted boards coated by a thin layer of snow. The only things that remained of the fence meant to keep the horses in were a few scattered posts and a rail here and there angled toward the ground.

When they reached the last of the posts, the official boundary of Camp Red Hawk, they all paused. They had been told by the camp director never to pass that point without a camp counselor. Though he was an adult now, Joel felt a lingering hesitancy to break the rule.

Of course, this wouldn’t be the first time. He now remembered the night hike they’d taken, or at least much of it. Waiting for Dooley in their cabin, joining the girls at the showers, passing the stables and entering the woods.

Leah so close he wanted to reach out to her, to hold her.

Then and now.

As if they were sharing the same memory, she slipped her hand into his, just like she had before. She glanced at him, a hesitant look in her eyes, as if she wasn’t sure if he’d object.

He squeezed her palm and didn’t let go.

With every turn the path took, Joel remembered more details of that night. There was plenty of new growth but the old trees were familiar. They’d come this way then, this exact way.

Ahead, a shaft of sunlight glinted off something metal. As they drew near, they saw it was a fence, tall and topped by broken strands of barbed wire. Following it, they came to a nearly unreadable sign.

“I remember this,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Leah said. “Me, too.”

Mike jammed a finger against his lips. “Shhhh. You don’t want her to—” He suddenly froze, his eyes losing focus. Then, “Eight-one-two-one-six-six-nine-seven-three-two-two-five-four-one.”

S
EVENTY-TWO

The Reclaimer

T
HE DATA STREAM
paused the instant the alarm went off.

The Reclaimer reached out via her sensors, and found that the creatures—information now indicated there was more than one—had ventured closer to the land above. Closer than any had in three years and forty-one days.

She tried to reach directly into their minds to turn them away, but for some reason couldn’t get in. Per the protocols she had written but had never had the need to implement, she made two additional attempts. When these also failed, she performed a targeted self-diagnostic but found no faults in her communication system or any degradation of her programming.

Venturing into unplanned-for territory, she tried a fourth time but was rebuffed again.

Analysis of the situation provided her with several scenarios that could account for the problem. At the top of the list was the 48.732% probability that the creatures were wearing some kind of protective shield that interfered with her signal. Though her decades of research indicated the development of such a shield was beyond the technical abilities of these vermin, she was well aware that her knowledge was not comprehensive.

The next closest probability, at 28.629%, was that her sensors had a malfunction her self-diagnosis hadn’t picked up, and that there were no creatures present at all.

Beyond this, at greatly decreasing percentages, the other probabilities were: undetected problems with her internal programming; undetected problems with her internal physical systems; faulty categorization of the creatures as those that dominated the planet instead of one of the myriad of other, lesser biologicals; and at the bottom, at 0.154%, the ability of the creatures to shield their own minds without the aid of technology.

The program presented her with the additional recommendation that she run a full, top-to-bottom diagnostic to eliminate any possibilities connected to internal errors. Deciding this was the logical course, she redirected the data stream to a buffer where packets arriving from the Translator could be stored until she could return her attention to them. She then put her essential systems on automatic, and prepared to enter low-power mode while the diagnostic ran. Before she activated the program, however, an idea was brought to her attention by her planning node.

While her systems were being checked, one of her servants could be sent to the land above to collect data while she was indisposed. Two units were still in good enough working condition to be sent up. She chose the better of them, encoded her instructions, and sent it on its way.

She then commenced the diagnostic.

S
EVENTY-THREE

Leah

M
IKE KEPT RECITING
sets of
numbers, each time faster and faster. His volume, though, remained at a whisper, as if he were afraid that speaking any louder would bring the sky down on them.

And perhaps it would, Leah thought. This Reclaimer had obviously triggered him somehow. Leah could only hope he was trying to keep them hidden like he said he’d been doing.

She reached out with her mind, wanting to help soothe her friend. She’d never done it while awake, but as she concentrated she could feel him and sense his desperation.

It’s all right,
she told him.
I’m here. Let me—

The slap came out of nowhere, stinging her cheek and sending her staggering backward. But Mike hadn’t budged from his stationary pose.

“What happened?” Joel asked.

She touched her cheek and looked at Mike. It had come from him, only it had been all in her head, the mental slap registering on the nerves in her cheek.

“Leah?” Joel said.

“I’m okay.”

“What happened?”

“I tried to help, but…” She removed her hand from her face. The sting was gone.

“If you want to try again, we could do it together,” Joel said.

Before she could answer, Mike’s rapid-fire recitation slowed. When the numbers stopped altogether, Mike shook with a brief, powerful spasm.

The moment it passed, his eyes snapped open. “Hurry, hurry! She’s sleeping…but-but-but not for long.”

He jogged ahead, parallel to the fence.

“What happens when she wakes?” Leah asked as she and Joel kept pace behind him.

“Maybe she finds us…maybe she destroys us.”

“That sounds…awesome,” Joel said.

“Hurry, hurry.”

They circled around the large pile of dead trees and caked dirt and rocks pressing against the fence. When they reached the other side, Mike stopped.

“No hole. No hole.” He looked back at them. “No hole to the other side.”

“It’s been gone a long time,” Leah said. “I tried to get over by myself when I was here last time.” She studied the debris. “If we work together, I think we can make it.”

It wasn’t easy, but they were able to reach the other side without being jammed in the ribs and legs by too many branches. Once they were safe on the ground, they scanned the woods.

 “I remember…a meadow,” Joel said.

“Yes,” Leah said. “A meadow and a hill.”

“Right, a hill.”

“We go to the hill,” Mike said. “We go, we go.”

They entered the forest single file—Joel first, then Leah, then Mike. They had hiked maybe a hundred yards when Leah touched Joel’s shirt and stopped him with a look.

“There’s something out there,” she whispered. “Do you feel it?”

This wasn’t the pull, or even suggestion of one. This was the sense of a thing quietly moving through the trees somewhere ahead of them.

Joel fell silent for a moment, and then shook his head.

Leah glanced back to ask Mike but there was no need. He was slowly turning his head as if he were homing in on something. When he stopped moving, he pointed in front of them to the right.

“What is it?” Joel asked.

“Something she made.”

“Something like what?”

“I-I-I don’t know what she calls them. They do tasks for her.” He paused. “Doer? Is that a word? We can call them that.”

“You mean like a robot?” Leah asked.

“Yes…no…both.”

“Does it know we’re here?”

Mike closed his eyes for a moment. When he looked at them again, he said, “Not yet. The Reclaimer must know something is out here so she probably sent it to check.”

“Hunter might be a better name for it, then,” Joel suggested.

Mike frowned. “I like Doer.”

“Okay. Sure. Doer.”

“How do we keep it from knowing we’re here?” Leah asked.

“It’s…damaged,” Mike said. “I can block it from sensing us, but we must, must keep moving. You’ll have to guide me.”

He held out both hands and closed his eyes. Leah took one hand and Joel the other. They started walking again. The eerie quiet was broken only by the crush of snow beneath their feet. Every few seconds, Leah looked back at Mike to make sure he was okay. His lips moved with his numeric mantra but he made no sound.

Finally the trees began thinning ahead, and they had their first glimpse of the meadow.

“The hill’s off that way,” Leah said, nodding to the right.

Joel steered them on a course that would take them closer while keeping them under the cover of the trees, and thus avoiding the openness of the meadow.

Leah could still sense the Doer. It was behind them now, moving in a very systematic pattern that hopefully meant it hadn’t detected Leah and her friends.

Another few minutes later, Joel veered them toward the edge of the woods and stopped ten feet shy of the field. After they helped Mike sit on the ground, they crouched beside him.

The hill was no more than fifty yards away, and tucked within, under a ledge, was a building.

Leah didn’t need to glance at Joel to know he was feeling the same sense of recognition she was. They had a straight-on angle of the hole in the side of the building where Antonio had been standing. She could almost see him again, beckoning them over. She tried to recall what was inside, but those were memories that had yet to resurface.

“Shall we?”

Joel’s voice was determined, but Leah knew he was as wary as she was of what the building hid. She couldn’t help but wonder that if they entered, would they ever exit again?

She took a breath and nodded, but when she and Joel tried to move, Mike clamped down on their hands and didn’t budge. Leah looked back but Mike’s eyes were still closed and his face still in its trancelike state.

“I guess we’re supposed to wait,” she said.

They settled back on the forest floor.

A few moments later, she heard the rhythmic crunch of snow. She looked toward the noise and saw, backlit by the sun, a vaguely humanoid shape crossing the field toward the building. Its movements were slow and mechanical, like parts of it were no longer functioning properly. Forward-pause-drag, forward-pause-drag, forward-pause-drag.

“What
is
that?” Joel asked.

The shadowy form stopped and turned toward them. A second later it began walking in their direction.

Leah could hear Mike’s numbers now, whispered even faster than before.

The Doer—for that must be what it was—kept coming for another dozen feet before stopping again. It held this position for over a minute. It was still too far away for them to discern any details about it other than its grayish hue. Perhaps it was made of plastic or rubber, she thought. It didn’t appear to be metal.

The numbers were spewing out of Mike’s mouth so fast now, it was as if they were a single word.

The Doer began to move again, but instead of continuing toward them, it made a machine-like forty-five-degree turn and resumed its journey toward the building.

Neither Leah nor Joel said a word as they watched the Doer limp to the hole in the wall, and then, with considerable difficulty, climb inside.

When it was finally out of sight, Joel let out a long breath. “That was close.”

Leah checked Mike. The numbers had not stopped, but they had slowed to what she had come to think of as their normal speed.

“Let’s give that thing a few minutes’ head start,” Joel said. “I mean, if you’re still up for going in.”

“You say that like we have a choice.”

S
EVENTY-FOUR

The Reclaimer

S
ENSORS PICKED UP
the return of the servant and sent a notification to the Reclaimer. Even though she was still in low-power mode, she registered the information. Once the diagnostic had been completed (she had 19.86% remaining), she would download the servant’s report. For now, it could wait.