The Grinding (19 page)

Like the Grinder, none of these monsters had eyes
or discernible heads, and I wondered just how autonomous they were.

I had to avoid notice. If the golems or any other
drones or animals in the Grinder’s posse spied me, surely they would rip me to
shreds or just remove my mask and stick me face-first into the network.

I sunk deeper into the muck at the bottom of the
wash, and I readied myself to jump up onto the Grinder as it approached. My
heart beat so hard, it felt as if it kicked the inside of my chest.

I wondered, if there was a God, if there was a
heaven, if this act would be considered suicide. How could it not?

Only twice in my life had I ever considered
suicide, and both times were when I waited desperately in a hospital waiting
room. After Nif’s overdose and after her suicide attempt, in those dark moments
when I thought she wouldn’t make it. When I tried to envision a sunrise in a
world without her, I knew it would be too unbearable.

The Hummers passed on the street to my right.
Their loud, diesel engines roared. To my left, one of the flesh scorpions
crashed by, and I cringed as I heard the sound of Zora’s car crushed under its
weight. Glass rained on me. I kept low, praying they wouldn’t look down.

Crash!
A
leg made of screaming babies plunged into the wash, just inches from me. Water
and mud splashed over me and the visor, and I instinctively rubbed it off. The
leg was the diameter of a barrel, and the tip was made of metal that fused up
into the flesh. I stared in horror at the babies who faced me, but their eyes were
all clenched closed. With a sickening feeling I realized most, if not all, were
dead, and their cries were really post-mortem puppetry designed to make any
attackers piss in their pants.

The leg paused, as if it sensed someone was near.
I held my breath.

All the eyes of the babies snapped open.

I didn’t move. I huddled in the shadow, doing my
best to hide and keep from screaming. I knew young babies had limited eyesight,
but I didn’t know how limited.

The eyes closed, and the monster continued on its
way.

I’m coming,
Nif. I’m doing my best
.

The massive, round golems rolled over the road,
and one passed directly over the ridge in which I hid. The asphalt at the edge
cracked and crumbled, but it held.

That was the last in the line. I only had a few
seconds to act.
Am I being brave? Or
stupid?
I sprang up from the wash and scrambled up the side.

I turned to face the Grinder.

I faced a wall of humanity and metal.

The forward wall of the monster was built like the
front of a bulldozer. A curved plane rose and arched outward from the top. Cars.
Trees. Rocks. Dirt. Animals. People. All came together to stack the wall
30-stories high.

I could wait for it bowl me over, or run at it. So
I ran at it, the cleats of my boots biting at the cracked asphalt. I jumped,
and I braced myself for impact, expecting to lose consciousness the moment I
came into contact.

I slammed hard into the curved wall, close to the
left edge of the front. To my utter astonishment, I still had full control of
my body. I grasped and held onto a car door as I pulled myself up, gasping from
the impact. I dug my feet in, and they found purchase in something fleshy. I
didn’t dare look down.

I climbed. Nothing tried to stop me, at least not
yet. At any moment I knew a hand would clench onto my leg or pull off my glove.
I grasped onto anything I could, people, scraps of metal, the exposed ribs of a
dog. I pulled myself higher and higher, hoping to find some sort of entrance.

A machine gun rattled in the distance. I ventured
a look over my shoulder and saw it came from the Hummer with the little girl.
She fired off toward something unseen.

I wouldn’t be able to climb over the top of the
scoop, so I went sideways, hoping it’d be easier along the flanks of the
creature. I crawled and clutched, digging my shoes into whatever would stick. I
came face-to-face more than once with a person ensnared, and their open eyes
stared at me, registering nothing. Already, my arms and legs screamed in pain
at the effort.

My fanny pack kept sticking to the wall when it
pressed against a person or anything organic. As I pulled away, it would come
with me, but tiny hairs now protruded from the pocket of the bag, like roots
searching for soil. I didn’t know if that meant Clementine’s plan was working
or not, but I was still here, and I trudged on.

Everything started moving at once, and I could do
nothing but hold on as tightly as I could. My left hand clutched onto the belt
of an upside-down man, and my right arm wrapped around the limp neck of a dog.

What
the—
The whole thing reared up, spinning high up into the air like an
upside-down tornado
. Fuck me, it’s
changing shape
. I swung and twisted as I clutched onto the monster. If I
let go, I would be flung off and splattered somewhere on the other side of
Tucson.

I wasn’t sure how high we’d risen. The fog got
thicker the higher we went, like I had neared the top of Jack’s beanstalk. I
couldn’t see the ground anymore.

Splashes of blood and smoke erupted ten feet
below, followed by the distinctive, terrifying dinosaur-roar of an A-10’s
cannon. A moment later, the plane rocketed out of the fog. It turned on its
side as it whipped past, so close I could almost touch it, the roar of its
engine so loud I was deaf for a few precious seconds afterwards. I screamed as
a wave of heat washed over me.

The Grinder changed shape again, and I felt myself
screaming more as I fell. I still clutched onto the dog’s head, and,
wham,
my left hand found a metal bar. I
jerked to a stop, then let go, falling several feet and landing hard on a
woman. I grasped her arm.

Behind me, a distant explosion rippled through the
air.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
. Couldn’t they wait just ten minutes?

My gloved fingers started to slip, and I let go,
sliding and bumping until I came to stop. I was now on the back of the monster.
The smoke and fog made it impossible to see more than ten feet in front of me.
It looked as if I’d fallen upon an arched plane that went on forever in every
direction. The Grinder surface was black and crunchy. The charred flesh had
turned to charcoal, and long lengths of metal crossed the back in a rib-like
configuration, giving the impression of a string-wrapped ham that had been
burned under a broiler.

My foot became stuck, and I tripped, catching myself
on a metal girder. The metal’s consistency was unexpected, more elastic than
metallic. This wasn’t metal at all, but something organic. I let go, afraid to
touch the metal again.

I scrambled to my feet and moved as quickly as I
could across the surface. The wind whipped at my dripping suit, and I could
sense we moved swiftly.

Ahead of me was a wall of thick, white fog. As it
billowed toward me, I realized it was no fog. It was smoke.

A strange sizzling and crackling sound, like water
poured into hot oil filled the electric air. Before I could figure out what
that was, hell rained down.

Out of the smoke, hundreds of bodies fell from
above. They smashed into the back of the Grinder like hail, many bouncing off
and away. They crashed all around me. A woman fell right in front of me,
writhing and screaming. I watched in horror as the skin of her face burned away
like flames eating paper.

All these people were part of a hydra tentacle, I
realized, and it had been destroyed.

That smoke. White
phosphorus.
I choked at the thought
.
It’s some seriously nasty stuff
.

“Ah, shit.” I turned from the billowing white
cloud and ran as quickly as I dared.

Swoosh
.
One hundred feet above, a bright fireworks-like explosion punctuated through
the haze, punching me in the chest with the concussion. From the explosion,
dozens of flaming bright flares arced downward, crackling like an exposed
electrical line, each trailing white smoke.

I had nowhere to go. If that smoke touched me, I
was fucked.

I spun, looking for a way out. My mask might
protect me from inhaling the deadly smoke, but I knew the particles would burn
through the suit, exposing my flesh and killing me.

Movement caught my peripheral vision through the
mask. A group of half-burned men and women crawled across the surface. Just in
front of them, one of the metallic, organic girders dilated open like a jagged
mouth, and one after another, they slipped in.

This is it
.
I grasped onto the strap of the duffel bag over my shoulder, I ran, and I
jumped feet-first into the hole just as the last of the drones crept through.
The opening snapped shut over my head.

I careened down like in a water slide, rolling to
a stop on an uneven surface that breathed up and down, like I was on top of a
giant lung. I jumped as a person crawled over me, skittering away like a spider.
I smacked my head on something hard, what it was, I couldn’t see.

Complete, utter darkness encompassed me. I was
inside.

I pulled the duffel around my front, unzipped it,
and felt for the flashlight. I pulled it out and flipped it on.

If ever a vision of hell existed on this earth,
this would be it.

The flashlight illuminated the low cave, an
interior artery ringed by the metallic girders, which I suspected were nerve
bundles. The hallway was tall enough that I could sit up, but I couldn’t stand.
I stood on my knees, hunched over, and shined the light. The tube I’d come down
was closed. I could only travel one of two ways, forward or backward.

Dripping intestines hung like vines. Blood and
fecal matter and whatever other fluid existed in the human body fell in a mist,
collecting on the screen of the gas mask. I couldn’t smell anything but the
molded plastic of the mask, and I was glad for that.

All around the conduit, the views moved and
changed as bodies, packed tight, cycled around me, some spinning as if on a
spit. The passageway itself seemed more or less static, though it waved, like
one of those playground rope bridges.

A quick succession of explosions rocked the entire
monster. Even though I was mere meters into the interior of the beast, the
explosions sounded far away. The Grinder reared up again, and the horizontal
tube turned vertical in a matter of seconds. I grasped onto a thick nerve
bundle to keep from plummeting. A rush of liquid sloshed over me, and I was
thankful again for my dry suit. The monster crashed back down, and the
passageway trembled like a plucked rubber band.

The connection in my chest, the invisible tether
from me to the Grinder still pulled, even though I was already in the belly of
the monster.

Why?
I
wondered.
What did that mean?

Shit.
It’s not the monster that’s reeling me in.

It’s Nif
.

Could it be her? My heart swelled at the thought,
and got me moving.

The tether at my chest pulled me left, so that’s
what I did. I crawled, the dying flashlight in my hand and the heavy duffel
over my shoulder.

The passage became tighter as I traveled. I had to
move to my stomach, careful not to rip the suit on a bone or tooth. My mask
fogged in the hot, oppressive, air. I trudged on.

Several junctions and curves littered the way, but
I always knew which way to turn. Sometimes the conduit would get wider,
sometimes so tight I could barely squeeze through.

Occasionally I’d see movement up ahead or hear a
furtive rustling noise just behind me. At a few larger junctions, I’d have to
wait as a quick-moving line of drones blurred past. At first I flattened myself
down as they neared, terrified they’d stop to investigate, but they didn’t seem
to notice me at all.

Every time I got back to my knees, the fanny pack
peeled away like Velcro off the meat floor.

I travelled for what seemed like an hour, and
while I knew I was going slowly, it felt as if I’d crawled the length of the
Grinder and back.

I turned a corner and headed down a steep angle. I
knew I was getting close. I could feel it, and I quickened my pace. I emerged
through a hole into a room about the size of my bedroom—small, but large
enough to stand. I stood upon what seemed to be the roof of a car, and the
walls here appeared metal,
real
metal, not the organic material the Grinder used to girder its shape, though
that was present as well, but thicker, wider, and pinker than up above.

This room was a dead end, but I could feel her,
just on the other side of the wall. I pounded, and the barricade felt solid.
The material was dense steel, made from something studier than a car, like the
wall of…

Like the
walls of an armored truck.

My heart racing, I searched for a way in.

It seemed like this was the back of the truck, but
if there was a door, it was covered with the thick nerve bundles or some other
metal. I could find no handle or entrance.
Come
on…

There!
Just to the right, a single, naked man stood sandwiched between two hunks of
wall. If I could get past him, I might be able to angle my way around.

I grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled, but he
wouldn’t budge.

In the trip through the Grinder’s pipes, I’d lost
most of the needles I’d duct taped to myself, but I still had a few attached to
my arm, and I grabbed one now.

“Sorry, dude,” I said, and I plunged the needle
into the guy’s heart. I depressed the plunger, releasing the deadly neurotoxin
into his body.

“Only use these if you have to,” Clementine had
said. “It might not work, but if it does, it might work too well.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Well, it’s a bit of a cocktail,” she said. “I’ve
been working on it for a while. It’s a synthetic neurotoxin. Two CCs of this
stuff will drop an elephant, so make sure you don’t prick yourself. It’ll be
game over.”

I didn’t want to ask her why she would be working
on such a thing, so I left it at that.

The man fell forward. Dead and stiff. But it
didn’t stop there. The entire room sagged. Two more people just beyond him
dropped, like rotten fruit falling from the vine. One was a younger derby girl
I recognized, still wearing her jersey from the Savage Patch Kids.

The organic nerve girders holding the metal into
place twisted up, like the legs of a dead spider, and the car underneath my
feet dropped away.

I jumped and grabbed the ceiling with my free
hand, clinging to another nerve ending. Light filled the room, and I looked
down through a hole in the Grinder, down to desert rock moving by underneath.
The floor closed on itself just as quickly, people rushing from all directions
to fill in the hole.

I may have gone this far unnoticed, but not
anymore.

I eased myself down, afraid I’d be dropped through
the hole or grabbed. I lifted my feet just as a new nerve bundle grew, moving
serpentine across the floor.

But nothing attacked.
Yet…

The man I had injected opened up a short
passageway behind the metal wall, and I squeezed in, revealing the side of the
vehicle I’d been trying to get to. It
was
an armored truck. A big one, too, with dual wheel sets on the back. The Brinks
logo was discernible as I brushed past the passenger side of the truck.

She was in here. I could feel it.

I moved past the logo until I came to a single
door with a window. This was the door the guards in the back used to exit and
enter when the truck parked on a curb. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it
wouldn’t open. Even if I could get it open, I’d only be able to open the door a
crack.

I peered inside, but I could only see dark shadows
within.

“Nif!” I called, banging on the door. “Nif!” I
could feel her, right there on the other side.

I tried the handle again, desperation rising. I
couldn’t get in. I banged again, so hard my hand ached through the glove.

“Nif, please. Oh God, please. I’m here. I’ve come
all this way. I’m here.”

I banged again.

Then I heard it. A rustling noise within, and a
face appeared just on the other side of the glass.

Nif.

Pale, afraid. But it was Nif, and she was alive.

I found her.
I
found her
.

“Adam?” Nif said, her eyes wide with surprise, her
voice muffled through the bullet-proof glass. “Is that really you?”

“Nif!” I called as tears streamed down my face.
“I’m going to get you out of here. We’re going home, baby. I’ve come to save
you.”

A hand grabbed my shoulder. Another grabbed my
mask. I was twisted violently around as my mask ripped off. A third hand
grabbed my hood and pulled, taking hair and skin with it.

I never saw my attacker. All I felt was the cold hand
that touched my bare neck.