Drift pattern, p.45
Drift Pattern, page 45
This churka clearly wasn’t set to the stun function.
“You . . .” Royse gasps as he turns halfway back to her. “You stupid bitch!” The sound of his rapid breathing fills the area. He manages to shamble on the smoking nubs of flesh until he’s facing her. “I’m going to kill you!”
“You know you can’t do that.” Tears cloud her vision, and she sniffs. “If you kill me, all of this disappears.”
He lowers his head while letting out a primal-sounding scream. It’s impossible to determine if it’s due to the pain raging through him, frustration, or a combination of both.
He looks up at her with such contempt that it makes her shudder. “Moyta has convinced you of all of these lies about Chancellor Macer. He’s an infiltrator and has messed up your mind.” The rapid-fire of his breathing sounds like he could hyperventilate at any second.
She raises her trembling churka to meet his. “No, Royse, that’s not true. Please, Royse.”
“I’ll show . . .” He spits. “I’ll show you . . . kill this New Australian, and we’ll go to Enos. The chancellor will fix it all!”
“Put it down. Put the churka down, Royse. Please.”
“We’ve got to kill the infiltrator first.” He howls again as he hobbles, this time slightly slipping on his sinewy meat stalks as he turns his back on her.
She refuses to shoot him in the back and allows her weapon lower. “No, Royse, you can return with us. We’re going to—”
“I refuse to believe the chancellor would lie to me,” Royse sputters, pointing his churka at Ish crouching blindly against the wall. “I’m Enos’s number one. That’s why Moyta must die.”
She utters a single-syllable word of defiance so softly that only she can hear. “No.” Again, there’s no recoil from Luci’s weapon; it’s the same absence of force as is she’s shining a flashlight in a darkened room. She cries as she cooks his flesh with repeated bursts until she’s forced to look away from the gore.
The noise of his exaggerated breathing is gone; only the sound of her sobs remains.
###
Her leg throbs where Royse kicked her, but she doesn’t massage it. She’s frozen in place, staring at her feet for what feels like an eternity.
Ish’s voice rouses her out of her semi-conscious state. “Luci?”
She allows the churka drop to the ground and moves to embrace him. “I . . . killed him. Ish, I killed Royse. He—”
Ish pulls her into his chest tighter. “I know. I know, but you had to. It had to be done. He forced you to do it.”
She shakes her head and sniffs. “I know . . . I know, but it doesn’t matter. I killed him.”
He pats her back. “Come on, Luci. We’ve got to get out of here.”
~ Eight ~
A couple of minutes later, Luci snaps out of her nightmarish stupor at the sight of the smoldering bodies of two more L’inversione members.
Her abrupt stop prompts Ish to ask, “What is it? What do you see?”
“It’s Yuma and Sari,” she answers in a flat tone and bites her lip, wondering if she’ll ever be free of the smell of cooked flesh and burnt hair in her mind.
Ish switches his grip on her belt to the other hand and, in a near-reverent voice, whispers, “Do you think it was that modified cybo thing or Mr. Timmons?”
She sighs. “No way of knowing, but definitely churka blasts of some sort.” Her voice breaks. “I never even got to thank Yuma for all the tech he made to rescue you.”
“You tried to warn them, Luci. You did your best. There’s nothing that you can do.”
She nods her head as the teardrops fall. “I know . . . I know,” she says, remembering their conversation about Ireland and Florence on the way over in the container. “It’s just such a waste, all of it. Such a waste.” She turns and wraps Ish’s fingers around the churka. “Give me a second, okay?”
“What are you doing?” he asks, making a point to aim the weapon up and away from the sound of her voice.
“Looking for something that may help us,” she says, dragging Sari’s mutilated form from the top of Yuma. She pauses to turn her head, refusing the bile that threatens to erupt from her. To the side of the Yuma’s corpse is what remains of the PQX inhibitor. The device is in two splintered pieces, one shorter than the other, with a small section missing. “For a new and better path,” she whispers while wiping her eyes. “A new and better path.”
She stands from her squatting position and reclaims the churka from Ish. “The cybo inhibitor is busted,” she informs him. “We’ve got to get to the transport before the entire place is swarming with security and/or those cybos from the future.”
They return to their rhythm of Luci leading her blinded companion. He only stumbles a few times, despite the fact that Luci has ceased to call out every step as they move to be move more stealthily.
“Can you operate the transport carrier?” Ish whispers.
She hesitates, wishing she had a better plan. In a controlled environment, she’d even have a backup plan to her backup plan, but this situation is thin on contingencies. Finally, Luci admits, “Hopefully, Yuma pre-programed the carrier to return to the mechanic shop and we can meet up with the others, but . . .”
“But what?” Ish prompts, struggling to keep in time with her steps.
“But . . .” she begins slowly, “Yuma really liked to be in control of things. There’s the possibility that he made it where only he can operate it. I just don’t know what else to do.” She hates admitting this, least of all to Ish.
“Let’s check it out,” he reassures her. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll come up with something else.”
“Hopefully, it’ll still be there,” she says, the words bitter on her tongue.
“It’ll be there,” Ish says. “We’ll figure this out.”
She tightens her grasp on the churka as she looks over at the building with the large columns across the street. “Let’s hope so,” she says, adding, “I’m definitely open to ideas at this point.”
Other than a few missteps by Ish, they move through the narrow alleys without incident. Ley had been right about the city-wide red out clearing the streets for them. Even the three stunned men the team encountered on the way to rescue Ish have retreated inside somewhere.
“Wait a minute,” Luci says, peering around the corner at the lime-green transport hauler across the street.
“It’s still there?” Ish asks in an anxious whisper.
“Yeah, it’s still here and the ramp is down just the way Yuma left it, but wait.” She scans the area for any trace of disturbance. Luci catches a glimpse of the Spike building in the distance. It’s as if it looks down at them like some great foreboding eye, scrutinizing their every move.
“Do you think it’s a trap?”
She continues to slowly move the end of the churka parallel to her vision. “It’d be a perfect one if it is. I can only hope that Beaumont’s cunning to have Yuma park it so far away from your rescue paid off.”
Inhaling a deep breath to calm her raging heartbeat, she says, “I hate this, but there’s only one way to find out.”
Ish responds with a silent nod. His feet scrape the ground as he shifts his weight preparing to run.
“I just don’t know what else to do.”
“I trust you,” Ish says. “Whatever happens, we’ll do it together.”
She swallows the lump in her throat as she studies the determined expression on his face. “Okay, let’s go.”
They scurry as quietly as they can to the ramp of the transport hauler. Once inside the long, corrugated metal container, Luci thrusts the vertical churka barrel to her blind accomplice. She removes the front panel over the override wheel, letting it fall to the floor with an echoing clang louder than she expected.
“What was that?” Ish asks, stepping backward uncertainly.
Luci answers between grunts as she strains at the wheel, “Sorry, that was the cover to a manual wheel in here that changes the ramp back into the carrier’s wall panel.” She wipes hands already slick with sweat on her pants legs. “I’m gambling that once it’s closed, the transport will automatically take us back to the origin point.”
“Here,” Ish says, extending the churka into the air between them. “I may not be able to see, but I can turn a wheel.”
She contemplates this while wiping her brow. Despite her all effort, the ramp-wall has moved less than a fifth of the way into position. “Yeah, okay,” she says, huffing. “Good idea.” She receives the churka from him and guides his hands to the metal circle.
The wall mechanism groans its resistance as Ish forces it to submit to his strength. He’s grunting now every time he heaves at the dial, but the panel reaches the halfway point in a short time.
Luci’s eyes nervously search the area for movement, cybo or otherwise.
Her heart stops as a figure approaches from around the corner on the other side of the street. The red fighter’s trot transforms into a full run at the sight of her.
She bites her lip hard while aiming. The churka blast barely clears the top lip of the container as the wall continues to rise. The first heated shot is too far right of target, but her second connects dead center and splits the attacker in half. The citrus-and-rubber smell within the cargo pod instantly gives way to the noxious odor of sulfur.
“They found us!” she shouts back to Ish as if any announcement is necessary. The adrenaline pumping through her veins makes it difficult for her to stand steady and peer through the haze for more of Macer’s future cybo-warriors.
Ish’s grunting speeds up to match his energy in sealing them in. “Don’t worry,” he says. “They won’t shoot at us. They can’t risk hitting you.”
She strains her vision scanning for more of the re-animated fighters.
There’s a loud clang from the side of the container opposite the rising panel wall. The impact causes the transport to sway, and a surprised Luci and Ish slam to the metal floor.
“What was that?” Ish shouts, attempting to return to his feet despite the pendulum-swinging motion of the area they’re in.
Another strike from the same side echoes through the hauler.
“They’re trying to come through the other side!” Luci shouts, scrambling to retrieve the churka. “Turn the wheel! It’s our only hope. Seal us in!”
There’s another loud hit, but this time, light from the outside pours in through a puncture in the metal. Luci manages to snatch the churka back up from the floor. A type of pickaxe tool violently dislodges from the freshly made hole for another blow. “They’re making a hole,” she reports to Ish, who has feverishly resumed the task of sealing the opposite side of the cargo compartment.
Still on her knees, Luci rocks with the swaying motion of the container. Though she grips it as tightly as possible, the churka moves wildly in the air like a rowboat lifting and falling in a typhoon. The axe tool on the outside systematically continues to widen the rip in the metal skin of the container. This produces bursts of sparks with each ear-spitting strike.
As the container sways backward from impact, Luci catches a glimpse of their assailant; the red armor is unmistakable.
Using the butt of the churka to brace, she clumsily maneuvers herself uneasily close to the torn opening. The hole is roughly the size of a soccer ball now, just large enough to peek outside despite the continual bouncing of the compartment. She extends her weapon through the jagged hole just as the red fighter deals another nearby blow to the transport.
Its proximity startles Luci long enough for the modified cybo outside to latch on to the end of her churka and yank it. Luci screams as she’s unexpectedly jerked forward to the ragged opening. Another two centimeters to the left and the mangled shards of metal bent in from the punctures would’ve lacerated her arm. Miraculously, she manages to retain her grip on the churka. Her pull against the strength of the red warrior is useless, but then she remembers that she doesn’t have to match it in a tug-of-war. She fingers the trigger, and a glorious blast of bright blue light reflects off the inside of the metal container. The pull on the weapon outside goes slack.
“Luci!” Ish calls to her.
“I’m okay!” she shouts while firing again for good measure, though the churka haze blocks any view to the outside.
A resounding clunk from the roof behind her makes her think something is on top of the transport. She withdraws the churka from the gash in the side and aims it upward at this new threat.
“I think . . . I think that’s it,” Ish shouts, using the wheel to balance.
Luci turns her attention to the side of the container with the ramp wall, realizing the noise overhead must be the pod snapping shut.
“It’s closed, right?” Ish asks.
“It’s closed,” Luci answers. She apprehensively looks down both sides of the long, empty cargo pod. “But why aren’t we moving?” She swallows. “Why isn’t it going?” she grumbles through gritted teeth. She knows they won’t kill her, because they can’t without erasing everything from this timeline and their future one by proxy, but she’s certain that her presumptuous gamble has forfeited Ish’s life. It’s just a matter of time until the red warriors make it through to them. Her mistake has guaranteed that Macer’s forces will know exactly where to find them—perfectly locked up in a little box. “I’m sorry, Ish.” She chides herself, “How could I have been so stupid?”
“What do you mean?” Ish asks, scooting on his knees toward her. “Sorry for what?”
A chilling thought enters her mind. “The hole. Maybe the red cybo wasn’t trying to get in but trying to make an opening for a gas canister or something.” She moves to see if there’s any outside activity through the opening. “Ish, do they use tear gas in this time?” The haze of the churka blasts still hangs in the air, making it impossible to tell if there’s any movement.
“Tears of gas? I don’t know what that is.”
Two sharp thuds resonate from under the cargo pod. Both Ish and Luci fall to the metal floor as the container lurches forward.
“What’s happening?” Ish asks in a near panic. “Luci?”
“I’m alright,” she says. “Shhhhh . . . listen.”
“What is it?” he asks softly, returning to a kneeling position.
“That’s the beautiful sound of the transport hauler’s engine engaging.” She moves to him on her knees, laughing while nearly in tears. “We did it! It worked!” She faces the ceiling of the container, and in drawn-out, jubilant exhilaration, she shouts, “Yuma did it!” She can barely contain her laughter. “Yuma, wherever you are, you’re a genius. Thank you, Yuma!”
After a few nervous minutes of riding, they settle against the wall opposite the hole. Ish reaches for her, and Luci sits with her back against his chest. “You’re shaking,” he says, draping his arms around her.
She hadn’t noticed this before, but now she is self-conscious of her involuntary quivering. “Adrenaline, I guess. This is not something I normally do.”
“Yeah, me either,” he replies, tightening his embrace.
He’s drenched with sweat, and though it takes a bit for her nerves to settle, this is the safest she’s felt since her arrival. She thinks on this and determines that despite currently riding in a windowless transport to who-knows-what-end, she can’t remember a time when she’s felt as safe as she does in this instant—even before her abduction by Royse and Macer.
There is a melancholy to looking across the empty cargo pod. On the way over, it was cramped with members of Beaumont’s team. Now it’s only her and Ish, Gicul’s “prize.” She still can’t reconcile why the leader of L’inversione would even bother with someone like Ish. What is he to him? Is it his technical knowledge about expanding and contracting skip-portal apertures, or is it something darker?
All of this is in the back of her mind as she begins to debrief him on the events of the last few hours. She fills him in on how Shar was the one leaving the notes under Beaumont’s influence. She hurries through the part about the girl’s gruesome self-mutilation and feelings for her, focusing on the escape instead. She relays her horrific underwater experience on the bnati and meeting members of L’inversione. She tells him of Yuma’s modifications to Cavazos’s cybo tech controller and the news that Cavazos was killed by Malom Roderick back in “cowboy days,” which was probably the source of the ridiculous outfit she is wearing.
Ish tenses as she describes the holo-vid of the future of Relicus City and the true nature of Waleen Macer and his multiple shadow copies posing as him in different intervals.
Through it all, Ish remains silent. When she’s no longer able to contain it, she says, “There’s something else, something that I need to ask you.”
“Anything,” he says.
She hesitates, uncertain how to proceed. “I need you to tell me the truth, whatever that may be.” Her words feel clumsy. She considers turning away from probing him for an answer. Does she really want to force him to reveal something that she may not be ready to know, something that may drastically alter what they have together? Despite her apprehension, the scientist in her wins out. She has to press on, regardless of the consequence.
As she’s reaching this conclusion, Ish prompts her, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I promise you the truth, always.”
“Thank you,” she says with a sigh that comes out louder than expected. “I have to understand something before we go any further. I have to know why all of those people died rescuing you. Why are you so important to Gicul for him to risk their lives?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
She wriggles out of his arms and crooks her head, preparing to observe his reaction. “Ish Moyta, are you Cyphor Gicul?”
He scoffs and stammers, “What? No, I am not Cyphor Gicul! Why would you even ask that? How could—Luci, you know me.” His blind eyes ricochet from side to side as he asks, “How would that be possible?”
She fires off the next question nervously. “Do you know him or work for him in some capacity?”
