I am Automaton 3: Shadow of the Automaton Page 19

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Colonel?”

  “I know you are a traitor, General. Now walk ahead, slowly. Make any sudden moves and I’ll put a bullet right into your brain.”

  “Okay. Okay,” said Ramses, putting his hands up. “Have it your way.”

  “Move,” said Betancourt, pressing the barrel of his handgun into Ramses’ head. There were alarms sounding and soldiers started dashing to and fro in the commotion.

  Peter emptied his rifle into Matt, the impact throwing Matt back up against the wall, but he kept coming. Peter tossed the rifle and grappled with Matt, but he was weakened from his bites from the zombies. His flesh burned on his shoulder and forearm, but at the moment, it was the least of his worries.

  Elicia was squiggling around frantically on the ground, cursing at Matt. Peter and Matt took turns throwing each other up against the wall, each never letting go of the other.

  They stumbled through the open doorway and were rolling around on the floor in the next room. Matt lashed out and snapped at Peter, biting him in several places as Peter yelped and grunted in the struggle.

  Elicia looked up at the control tower and saw that Darcy was gone. Great, now she’d be here any minute. This was going from bad to worse.

  They all heard a door slam and a low, animalistic growl. Then they heard Darcy’s voice.

  “Something happened. I’m sorry, I—”

  There was a wet ripping sound and then a gurgling.

  Matt, currently on top of Peter, looked up. “Darcy?”

  He punched Peter in the face and stood up. He stepped over him as Peter rolled around on the floor clutching his face, and he stood in the doorway to the next room.

  Peter scrambled in a commando crawl into the next room. He crawled over to Elicia on the floor. “We have to get out of here.” However, there was no way to cut the plastic ties binding her to the chair.

  “What were you two doing?” they heard in the next room in a low, growling inhuman voice.

  “Mr. Wolff, we were just having some fun.”

  Peter looked at Elicia sardonically. “Don’t tell me Mr. Wolff is an actual wolf.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and smiled sheepishly.

  “Great,” said Peter.

  They heard more wet ripping sounds and Matt’s head came rolling into their room through the open doorway.

  “Screw it.” Peter got to his feet, grabbed the back part of Elicia’s chair by her head like a handle, and he began to pull her into the next room as Wolff stepped into theirs. The legs of the chair scraped loudly against the hard floor as Peter made his way through the other part of the maze.

  Wolff put his nose in the air and sniffed loudly. “Ah, someone’s on the rag.” Then he took off in the direction of Elicia’s scent.

  With his newfound strength and speed, Peter found pulling Elicia behind him in a chair rather easy, like a kid dragging a stuffed animal around. They heard Wolff tracking them through the maze, and he was right on their heels.

  “Hurry! He’s coming!” shouted Elicia behind him.

  Ramses, with a gun to his head, entered the hangar first with Betancourt following behind him. “You know, Colonel, this hangar will be swarming with soldiers within minutes. You’ve taken a four-star general hostage. I see no way out of this for you.”

  Betancourt saw the dismembered body of a young girl on the floor and heard the commotion in the maze. “So this is what you’ve been up to? Stay here.”

  Betancourt backed away from Ramses and climbed the metal staircase to the control tower. When he burst into the control room, he saw that all of the monitors were on. There was a hulking, four-eyed beast tracking Peter and some girl tied to a chair through the maze.

  “Elicia Corti,” he said out loud. “So that’s what they were doing back here.”

  Peter felt Betancourt enter the hangar. He looked up over his shoulder and saw him in the control tower.

  “I have an idea,” he said to Elicia.

  “You’d better hurry. He’s coming!”

  Peter made it to the back of the maze by the cages. He straddled an exterior wall of the Labyrinth and smashed a window with his fist. He picked Elicia up, chair and all, and tossed her though the opening.

  Just then, Wolff barreled into their room, his broad furry chest heaving.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

  Peter bolted into the next room, and he heard Wolff follow behind him. He made his way to the middle where the open cages were. He turned and stood, placing himself behind the cage door with his back to the wall.

  In a hot second, Wolff came bounding into the room and hurtled towards Peter. There was a flash of pain as Wolff smashed into the bars of the cage door, crushing Peter up against the wall.

  Wolff reached through the bars and tore at his chest, slashing his already ruined shirt. Peter saw colors as he shoved the gate, only to have Wolff push it and him right back against the wall.

  Screaming, Peter shoved the gate again, pushed his feet against the wall behind him, and pushed off with all of his might.

  Wolff lost his footing and stumbled backwards, but because he held onto the bars of the cage door, he swung right into the cage.

  Peter put his aching shoulder into it and shoved the cage door shut. Betancourt must have read his mind, because Peter heard the digi-lock engage. He backed away as Wolff lunged at him, his claws just missing him.

  Peter looked up at the control tower and gave Betancourt a thumbs up. Betancourt waved back at him.

  Wolff was pacing back and forth in the cage, seething with rage. He flashed all four hungry eyes and growled at Peter.

  Peter looked the cage up and down and smirked. “That’s a good look for you.”

  Wolff roared at him.

  Peter walked back to the room where he smashed the window and found Elicia sitting there.

  “Is he dead?” she asked through the opening.

  Peter stepped through and grabbed a jagged shard of glass. “Not quite, but he’s contained for the moment.”

  He tore off one of his sleeves and wrapped it around the base of the shard. Gripping it carefully, he began to saw away at Elicia’s bindings.

  He freed her right hand and then her left. As he worked on unbinding her ankles, she rubbed her wrists. When she was completely free of the chair, he pulled her towards the front of the Labyrinth.

  They saw Betancourt standing there with a gun to Ramses’ head. Peter marched up to Ramses, brandishing the glass shard.

  “Go ahead, you chicken shit bastard. Why don’t you change into whatever you are?”

  “He won’t do that,” said Betancourt. “If he’s transformed when reinforcements bust down the door any minute, he’ll have a hard time explaining it.”

  “Looks like I live to fight another day,” Ramses gloated.

  “Not if I kill you first,” hissed Peter through gritted teeth.

  “No, Major,” said Betancourt relieving Ramses of his sidearm and handing it to Peter. “He’s our ticket out of here.”

  Suddenly, as if on cue, MP’s stormed the hangar. Peter and Betancourt stood close to either side of Ramses with their guns to his head.

  “Keep between us,” Peter instructed Elicia, “and stay close.”

  She nodded and stood flush behind Ramses between Peter and Betancourt.

  “Stand down,” shouted an MP, the one in charge, to the others. “They have the General hostage. Colonel Betancourt?”

  “We just want to walk out of here without any trouble,” announced Betancourt. “But if you force our hand, we will kill the General.”

  “I’ll kill him,” vowed Peter. “Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more.”

  The MP’s were startled by Wolff roaring somewhere at the back of the Labyrinth.

  “What was that?” asked the MP in charge.

  “Something that will explain all of these dead bodies,” said Betancourt. “Check the surveillance footage.”

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nbsp; “Colonel Betancourt, surrender your weapon.”

  “As soon as we’re outside the perimeter, we’ll give you the General back unharmed. We need transport.”

  “There’s a few Humvees parked outside. Take one, but the General gets released within the perimeter.”

  “What guarantee do I have that you won’t open fire on us once I do so?”

  “This is obviously some kind of misunderstanding, sir. We don’t wish anyone to get hurt.”

  “Good, son. Then you’ll let us go. The only thing you have seen is our holding the General at gunpoint. If we wanted him dead, he’d be dead.”

  “And what about the bodies, sir?”

  “Look at them, Corporal. They’re torn to pieces. Look at us. Does it look like we could do that kind of damage, son?”

  “These men are murderers!” accused Ramses.

  “Look at the footage,” implored Betancourt. “You’ll see that’s not the case.”

  “I ask that you leave these two civilians behind, sir. You can go on your way.”

  “Negative, Corporal,” said Betancourt. “I don’t expect you to understand this right now, but they are safer with me.”

  “Don’t listen to them, Corporal,” admonished Ramses. “Don’t let them leave this base.”

  “Do the right thing, Corporal,” said Peter. “You don’t want the death of a four-star general on your hands.”

  The corporal nodded and gestured for the other MP’s to stand down and clear a path. Now fugitives, the four walked through and out the hangar slowly (Peter was limping) as the Corporal radioed to the MP’s outside to stand down.

  They made their way over to one of the Humvees parked out front. “Open the door,” Peter said to Elicia, who opened the front door. “Slide in to the passenger side.” She did.

  Peter then reached out with his free hand and opened the back driver side door. “Get in, General.”

  “You’re not going to get away with this,” said Ramses, and then he got in.

  “You drive,” Peter told Betancourt, who slid into the driver seat and closed the door. Peter got in the back with Ramses and closed the door.

  Betancourt turned the engine over and began to pull away. There were soldiers flanking them on either side.

  “You won’t get far,” said Ramses.

  “Oh, I think the MP’s will have their hands full reviewing the security footage,” said Peter. “They’ll see Assistant Director Wolff ripping those two vampire kids to shreds. Then he’ll point the finger at you.”

  “He’ll be quite human-looking when they find him in that cage. By the time they view the footage, he’ll be long gone,” said Ramses.

  “He’s right,” said Betancourt. “Our objective now is only to escape with our lives. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

  They were pulling up to the front gate. The gate operator received a call, and the gate slowly opened. The soldiers surrounding the Humvee had their guns trained on them.

  “Who’s that?” Elicia asked, pointing at a dark figure standing at the opening of the front gate.

  “Call off your man and we’ll let the General go,” ordered Betancourt into his mini-com multi-tasker.

  “He’s not ours, Colonel.”

  Betancourt strained to look at the dark figure.

  “Shit, it’s Kafka,” said Peter.

  “What’s he doing here?” asked Betancourt.

  “Your ass is grass now,” taunted Ramses.

  Kafka walked up to the Humvee. Betancourt lowered his window, clutching his handgun in his right hand and pointing it at the inside of the car door. The soldiers weren’t sure if this new character was a part of all of this. Police cars were racing in the distance, closing in on the fort.

  “Good evening, Colonel,” said Kafka coolly. “Leave the General. I’ll take it from here.” He was wearing his high tech tiara and carrying his portable RGT console.

  “You’re going to let us go?” asked Betancourt suspiciously.

  “At this point you’re better to me alive than dead, Colonel.”

  “Don’t use that on these soldiers,” Betancourt implored. “These are good men.”

  “That will be entirely up to them, Colonel. You’d better get going. The local law enforcement is almost here.”

  “He’s going to kill everyone,” said Peter from the back.

  “I just want the General,” assured Kafka, “but if you want to stick around, I can turn everyone into flesh eating zombies and be on my merry way. Or I can call in a drone strike on this base, with a single idea in my brain, killing all of these good soldiers.”

  “So that was you back at the bar,” said Betancourt.

  Kafka nodded.

  “No, we don’t want that.”

  “Then hand over the General. They’ll think I’m with you and let me go with my prominent hostage.”

  Betancourt turned around and nodded to Peter.

  “Out,” Peter ordered Ramses. “Another time.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’ll get the chance,” Kafka said.

  Ramses chortled and opened the back door. He stepped out and Peter closed the door behind him. Betancourt hesitated for a moment.

  “You’d better get moving, Colonel,” said Kafka. “Time is of the essence.”

  “We could kill him now,” said Peter to Betancourt. “Then we can explain ourselves to the MP’s.”

  “Pete, you couldn’t kill me before. What makes you think killing me will be so easy?”

  “He’s right,” said Betancourt. “Now’s not the time. We’re in a tight spot.”

  “I say we do him now,” said Peter urgently.

  “You’re welcome to try,” replied Kafka. “Everyone around me will be undead with a single thought.”

  “He’s going to do it anyway,” said Peter. “I say we take him now.”

  “The MP’s will cut us down, so unless you think you can kill him in one swift move, we don’t stand a chance,” explained Betancourt.

  Peter was silent. He knew Betancourt was right, and it pissed him off. Their only option was to leave.

  Betancourt put the Humvee in gear and drove forward and out of the fort, leaving Kafka standing there with General Ramses.

  Kafka put his RGT console down on the ground and stood behind Ramses, pointing his assault rifle straight ahead. The police cars were closing in.

  “Lay your weapon down on the ground and step away from the General,” ordered a soldier over a bullhorn.

  “So what’s the plan?” whispered Ramses to Kafka.

  “You failed to serve your purpose assigned to you, so now you’ll serve another.” Kafka laid his rifle down on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ramses confused. “Turn them all into zombies. Do it now.”

  “Then there won’t be any witnesses,” explained Kafka. “I need witnesses.”

  “For what?”

  There was the squeak of a bullhorn turning on. “Sir, back away from the General and lay face down on the ground.”

  Kafka flashed his teeth in a gruesome smile.

  “For this.”

  Kafka reached behind him and produced a smoke grenade. He pulled the pin and dropped in on the ground at his feet. He and Ramses were immediately consumed in a thick cloud of smoke. He reached behind him and pulled two machetes out of sheaths strapped to his back.

  The approaching police cars came to a sudden halt, skidding on the asphalt, the monitors in the dashboards flickering and the lights flashing behind the smoke.

  When the smoke began to clear in the night breeze, one of the police cars sped away and Ramses lay in pieces on the ground. Four zombie police officers staggered out of the smoke and towards the base.

  “Hold your fire!” shouted the MP on the bullhorn. “There are police officers in the line of fire!”

  The zombies, encouraged by the call to dinner, picked up their pace as they shambled towards the front gate.

  Kafka was gone.

  ***
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  “Jesus, does somebody want to tell me what the hell just happened?” asked Elicia, her eyes wide as platters and her heart beating out of her chest.

  “You were abducted,” answered Betancourt with his usual matter of fact tone, as if it was no big deal.

  “Abducted? Abducted by who?”

  “The US Army,” said Peter gravely.

  Betancourt kept his eyes on the road as he drove. “The question is why?”

  “It’s my blog…and my podcasts.”

  “Yes, we know you are the Seditious Blogger,” said Betancourt impatiently. “We just don’t know why you were abducted and taken to an abandoned hangar on an army base to be murdered.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re Tronika?” asked Peter dubiously.

  Elicia, irritated by his disbelief, narrowed her eyes and ignored Peter.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know what they wanted?” she asked Betancourt.

  “What did they ask you about?” interjected Peter, turning on the charm. He flashed his best million-dollar smile. He had done it in Frisky’s countless times.

  “You don’t look so good,” she said, unconvinced.

  Peter nodded for her to continue.

  “They were asking me why I was urging people to take a walk off the grid. They asked me about RET—”

  “RGT,” Peter corrected.

  “Yeah, I guess. RGT. Whatever. They asked me if I knew anything about using cell phones and televisions to read people’s minds.”

  “Their memories,” Peter again corrected.

  “Well, did you?” Betancourt asked.

  “I talked about that kind of stuff on my podcasts, and I always figured the government was developing some new spy technology. But those didn’t look like government back there.”

  “It’s because they weren’t,” stated Betancourt.

  “They looked like monsters. What were those things following me in that maze?”

  “Those were zombies,” stated Peter, “developed by the government.”

  Elicia was incredulous. “What the hell is the government doing developing zombies? What about my friend, Darcy? She wasn’t a zombie. And who the hell are you guys?”

  “I told you those weren’t government,” said Betancourt. “They once were, but now they’re not.”