Revolution (47 page)

    Peter reached up to touch his forehead and his hand came back soaked with sweat.

   
You know what I look like? I look like a guy who just shot someone and is running away.

    Peter frantically wiped at his forehead with his shirtsleeve in an effort to assuage the sweat pouring down his face. Standing in front of the black steel door, he took deep breaths, trying to cool himself down. His sweaty hair had lost its slicked-back style and was hanging over his forehead. Peter found the sweat came in handy for one thing; plastering his hair back into its former position.

    Rayne stared at the gun in his right hand.

   
If I hadn’t thrown my jacket away, I could have tucked this gun in the back of my
pants.
As it is now, I don’t have anywhere to hide it
.

    Hesitantly, Rayne tossed the gun into a clump of bushes. He felt like a drowning man throwing away his life preserver.

    What a waste. I’ll probably need it later on.

    Peter tried to straighten some of the wrinkles out of his white dress shirt by smoothing it down with his sweaty hands. He did the same for his pants. His shirt was passable except for the wet marks from his sweat.

    Not good. Not good at all.

    Rayne tried to compose himself by standing straight and assuming a confident demeanor.

    I need to pretend I’m still in charge. I’m an important Executive taking a rare tour of the Underworld. The other two members of my party decided to continue the tour, while I return to the surface to take care of some business. It’s all completely normal. No one should suspect a thing.

   
He looked down at the small wet patches on his dress shirt.

    Maybe the guards won’t notice?

    Rayne felt like he needed to cool down some more, so he sat down next to the door, leaning his back against the invisible wall. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax. Touching his forehead, he found it was still clammy with sweat.

    I
have to cool down.

   
Peter took deep breaths, trying to relax. It was to no avail. The momentous implications of his actions would not allow him to relax.

    All I can think about is Campion’s fleet of attack choppers converging on the city, and the resulting destruction that will follow their arrival. This is the moment when everything is coming together. How can I relax? Well, I can’t sit here all day. I have to go. Now.

   
Peter stood next to the door. He forced an arrogant scowl on his face, pulled back his shoulders, and pressed the button to open the door.

    The door slid open and the pair of guards turned to see who was there.

    “Gentlemen, I had to cut my tour short to attend to some business,” Rayne said, authoritatively, as he strolled past the guards. The guards said nothing in return. Rayne kept walking without looking back.

    Why did I think I’d have a problem with those guys? They’re paid to protect people like Malcom Getty; not hinder his movements.

    Rayne tried to keep his pace slow and steady, but it was difficult not to speed up and break into a run. He figured one of two things could happen now. Either Burke’s pulse would eventually become non-existent and alert the Bio-scan system, or Brenton would figure out a way to drag Burke’s body to the closest phone and call Underworld Security. The second option didn’t seem likely to him because Burke weighed a good 180 pounds and Brenton couldn’t have weighed in at more than 110. She was strong, but he doubted she was strong enough to drag one hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight a hundred feet down a corridor to get to a phone.

Chapter 33

    Rayne took a right into the main personnel corridor and walked briskly toward the area where they had entered the complex. Looking straight ahead, he put on a confident, determined expression whenever he passed a tech or security guard.

    Rayne hurried by several empty transport platforms where ghost cars came and went without any passengers. As he neared the exit to the underground facility, pedestrian traffic began to pick up and he passed numerous techs and security personnel. Rayne tried to pretend he was expected at an urgent meeting and belonged in the corridor as much as them. His photographic memory helped him to recognize the transport platform they had initially passed when they entered the Underworld. He knew his destination was ahead.

    Rayne smoothed his shirt and pressed down his slicked-back hair as he took a left into the corridor leading to the elevator. He set his jaw and flexed his muscles as he traveled the security corridor with the transparent walls. He kept his gaze focused straight ahead and didn’t bother looking at any of the security techs scrutinizing him from their consoles on the other side of the bulletproof glass walls. He made it through the security area and continued striding down the steel-walled corridor. Turning a corner, he saw the two checkpoint guards.

    I don’t even know what the procedure is to exit the place!
Do I just walk out? Or do I have to say something to the guards?
Maybe I will just tell the truth, or more accurately, give them a detailed lie.

    “Good evening, gentlemen,” Rayne said, approaching the security station and putting on what he hoped was a convincing confident smile.

    “Hello, sir,” the guard on the right said. The guard on the left merely nodded at him.

    “My companions will be along shortly, but I have been forced to cut my tour short due to pressing business,” Rayne spoke to the guard who said “hello” and made occasional eye contact with the other guard. “I’ve never been to the Underworld before, so I’m not sure if there are any security procedures I have to follow before returning to the surface.”

    “Are you the guy who was with the Director?” the guard on the left asked.

    “Yes, I was with the Underworld Security Director, Tom Burke.”

    “Then, you’re all set. You don’t need to show us your wrist code,” the guard said, waving him through.

    “Thank you, gentlemen, and have a good night,” Rayne said, smiling as he walked through the checkpoint.

    He arrived at the elevator door and pressed the “up” button. The door opened.

   
Apparently, no elaborate code is needed to exit the Underworld; only to enter it.
They don’t care who leaves; just who enters.
   

    Entering the elevator, Rayne pressed the button for the top floor; L-1. The elevator ascended rapidly, causing him to feel the familiar drop in his stomach that he was now accustomed to during his many travels on the island. The elevator sped upward for several seconds before coming to a halt at L-1. The metal door slid open and he found himself looking out at the lobby of the Bureau of Statistics.

    Rayne walked toward the pair of guards standing next to the body-scanning machine at the front doors.

    “Hello, gentlemen, how are you?”

    “Very good, sir,” one of them said, nodding at him.

    The other guard simply looked bored and didn’t make eye contact with him. He was staring out the wide Plexiglas window to the right of the door. Rayne realized the guards seemed disinterested in him, so he simply nodded at the one who had addressed him as he walked through the scanning machine.

    “Have a good day, sir,” the guard said, as Rayne pushed open the front doors and stepped into fresh air

   
This is working out better than I thought
.

    Rayne took a right, walking quickly along the sidewalk. Looking up, he saw the starry night sky beyond the roofs of the buildings.

  
There should be an anti-grav transport stop somewhere around here
.

    Rayne turned the corner onto another street. He walked several blocks and, sure enough, arrived at an anti-grav shuttle stop. Peter only had to spend a few anxious minutes of pacing before a shuttle arrived. Stepping aboard, he sat in the first seat of the car.

    “YOUR DESTINATION, SIR?” the transport’s computer spoke to him in its soothing female voice.

    “I’m trying to find a ferry off the island. Can you please tell me how to get to one?” Rayne asked, enunciating his words to be sure the computer’s receiver understood him. The computer hesitated a few moments while it processed the information.

“THERE IS A FERRY LEAVING THE ISLAND IN EXACTLY 10.8 MINUTES,” the computer said.

    “How long will it take us to get there?” Rayne asked.

     After a few tense seconds, the computer answered, imperturbably, “IT WILL TAKE US 8.6 MINUTES TO ARRIVE AT THE SOUTH DOCKING AREA.”

    “Okay, take me to it,” Rayne said, leaning back in his seat, relieved.

   
I am just going to make it.

    The floating platform with seats raised itself fifty feet into the air and sped down the street. Peter took some time to glance around at the cityscape as the transport rushed down the mostly-deserted avenues of New Washington.

    This place is
beautiful.

   
Rayne observed the shapely modern buildings and the many quaint parks and plazas between them.

   
It’s too bad we have to destroy it
.

    True to its word, the computer-operated shuttle arrived at the South Dock in exactly 8.6 minutes. Lowering to the ground, it stopped next to a walkway leading to a pier. Rayne saw a long, sleek boat docked, which looked identical to the one he had been on when he came to the island. Passengers wearing suits and dresses were standing or walking on the open deck. Rayne hurried his pace, approaching a pair of Shock Troopers standing in front of the gangplank.

    “Your wrist code please, sir,” a Trooper’s metallic voice spoke through his air filter.

    “Sure, officer,” Peter said, extending his wrist in front of him.

    The Trooper quickly swiped his portable scanner across Rayne’s wrist and looked at the small screen.

    “Okay, sir, you may board.”

    “Thank you, officer,” Peter said, forcing yet another smile as he nodded at the guard.

    He jogged up the gangplank and stepped onto the deck. He felt a surge of relief as he walked across the deck, trailing his fingers on the metal railing. He passed by the other passengers, ignoring them so he could look out at the ocean.

    I’m almost there. If I can just make it a little farther, I’ll be all right.

    Peter gazed across the dark ocean. Looking up at the spectacular night sky, he felt like he was almost free. He heard a deep rumbling below deck as the boat’s engines powered up. This time, he held onto the rail. He was glad he did because the boat accelerated rapidly away from the pier. Peter smiled as the sea wind blew through his hair. He felt his forehead and was happy to find no sweat.

    I’m almost free! All I have to do is reach the mainland and I’ll be just another anonymous pedestrian.

    “Would you like a drink, sir?” a voice spoke behind him.

    Turning, he saw a waiter in a white tuxedo standing behind him holding a tray.

    “Sure, I’ll have a Pina Colada,” Peter said, flashing his first genuine smile of the day.

    The waiter returned quickly and Peter found himself sipping his favorite drink as the ominous black wall of New Washington steadily receded. Peter watched the reflective buildings of the city towering high above the wall into the night sky. He gazed up at the awesome reflective dome at the apex of the tallest building on the island: the Frump Presidential Tower.

   
I can’t believe I was actually there
.

   Turning away from the island, Peter faced the wind.

   
This has been quite an
adventure.

   
Rayne sipped his drink, staring across the waves toward the mainland.

   
From the
Powerdrome to the Crest Club; never a dull moment
.

    Peter could barely make out the silhouettes of buildings on the far shore.

    Yes, this
has been quite an adventure. But I’ll be glad when it’s over
.

    Suddenly, Peter felt tired. As his adrenaline high began to fade, exhaustion set in. Walking several feet along the deck, he sat down at the top of the stairs leading down to the bow. Placing his drink at his side, he leaned back on his elbows as he had done on the ride over.

    Almost there
.

   Rayne looked up and felt overwhelmed by the immensity of the night sky. Staring into the infinite firmament, he felt like he could be sucked up into the vastness and catapulted across the galaxy. The scope and majesty of the evening sky made him feel suddenly small and insignificant.

   
Are the things I’ve done going to make a difference
?

    Peter felt himself drifting off to sleep. He had only dozed for a few minutes when the footsteps of nearby passengers woke him. He looked up, startled, to find himself lying on the deck at the top of the stairs.

    Rayne stood up, leaned on the railing, and looked down at the water. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed him. The other passengers were talking, leaning on the railing, and staring at the ocean.

   
No one cares what I’m doing.

    Gazing toward the stern of the boat, Rayne saw the buildings of New Washington as tall, thin black shapes on the distant horizon. Something else was gleaming on the distant water. Straining his eyes, Rayne moved toward the rear of the boat, trying to make out the metallic shapes in the distance. As he approached the stern, he realized the gleams were coming from metal objects skimming over the waves behind the boat.

    Leaning on the back railing, Rayne tried to identify the line of metal objects racing across the water. There were at least eight of them, getting larger by the second. As they got closer, Rayne realized they were small vehicles skimming along the ocean’s surface. They reminded him of skimming flat rocks thrown across a lake. He tried to make out their shape and design. They were air-bikes.

    What are they doing following the boat? Is it just a normal patrol or are they after me?

    A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Rayne’s system as he watched the details of the air bikes become clearer. He could make out the metal shapes of Shock Trooper armor. As they got closer, they looked like motorcycle riders of the sea. Peter felt a sinking in his stomach. A panicked feeling swept through his brain
.

    Shock
Troopers are following the boat on air bikes! And they are getting closer
.

    Turning around, Rayne looked toward the bow of the boat. The mainland was getting closer, but it was still some distance away. The buildings still looked like tiny rectangular silhouettes. Turning back toward the rear, Rayne saw the gleaming shapes becoming steadily larger.

    They are only fifty yards away and closing. I have little doubt that they intend to intercept the boat.

    Glancing around the deck wildly, Rayne searched for a way out of this mess. A Shock Trooper was patrolling the starboard side of the vessel.

    Maybe he can help me
.

    Rayne quickened his pace toward the Trooper. Adrenaline flowed as his muscles tensed up for action. The bored Trooper was standing by the railing, gazing out across the ocean. His rifle was slung casually over his shoulder. Rayne eyed the pistol in his side holster. Moving steadily toward the Trooper’s position, Peter prepared himself.

    “Excuse me, sir, do you mind if I ask you a -” Rayne interrupted his flow of speech as he lunged forward with his arm extended, striking the Trooper in the neck.

    The sudden force of the attack knocked the Trooper off balance, dropping him heavily to the deck. Before he could recover, Rayne reached down and seized the butt of the pistol in the holster. As the Trooper scrambled to get to his feet, Rayne squeezed the trigger, unloading an explosive bullet into the Trooper’s chest armor.

    Screams erupted across the deck as metallic thunder filled the air. Rayne had to cover his eyes to shield them from the sparks and shrapnel blasting out of the Trooper’s shattered chest armor. The Trooper slumped back onto the deck, spilling blood from deep gouges in the armor plating like a squashed beetle.

    Explosive bullets always take care of business.

   
Shoving the pistol in the back of his pants, Rayne reached down to collect extra ammunition cartridges. He grabbed magazines from the Trooper’s belt and shoved them in his pants pockets. Rayne reached down for the Trooper’s automatic rifle. Pushing the body onto its side, he grabbed the rifle strap and pulled hard. The strap got caught in the Trooper’s armor at the elbow, but Rayne quickly changed his position, wrenching it free. Rayne held the rifle in front of him and swept it across the deck.