McGill raised his pistol and leveled it at the old shrew’s beady eyes.
“Wrong answer, skunk,” he said.
“How’s this for the right answer?” a different voice said—someone behind him. “You’re the only skunk here.”
Chapter 92
AS MCGILL STARTED to spin around, a sharp sound—brak— rang out. Something smacked hard against his pistol, knocking it flying and making his hand sting furiously.
He stared at the woman now standing there with a gun in her hands.
A woman who was supposed to be dead. Hell, he had seen her burned to a crisp back at the Agency.
Except that she’d just shot the laser pistol out of his hand with one of the obsolete, bullet-shooting weapons that he’d sneered at an hour ago.
“You were blown to bits—incinerated with Jax Moore!” he yelled at her.
“Obviously not, you moron!” she yelled right back. “I’m right here—waiting for you. And obviously, these rusty old guns work pretty well,” Lucy said coolly. “If you know how to shoot. If you’ve practiced every day since you were seven. If you really hate your target and turn all that venom into focus.”
“So you weren’t blown up?”
“I think we covered that part already.”
McGill couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but he really couldn’t believe what happened next. The blond girl tossed her pistol aside.
“But let’s keep this fair,” she said, as if that explained it.
His shock and rage exploded in a wild laugh. “Fair? Is that what you think is going to happen now? Hell, I’m going to rip your head apart and watch the very small brain fall out!”
The blonde frowned thoughtfully and didn’t seem afraid of him. “OK, that’s a bet—my brain against yours.”
“Smart-ass bitch!” he yelled, lunging toward her. His massive fist lashed out in a punch aimed to pulverize her face into bloody shreds and bone splinters.
But Lucy danced aside with professional boxing speed and agility. Then she rammed her own black-gloved fist into the pit of his belly. The strike was so hard he felt his gut crunch against his spine. Was that possible? Could she have hit him that hard?
McGill immediately doubled over, eyes bulging, and sucked for air like a beached fish on the riverbanks. He’d never been hit like that! What the hell was going on? She was a woman, not even half his size! Plus, he’d seen her blown to nothing with his own eyes.
With great effort he wrenched his body upright and dove at her again, his huge hands outstretched to rip her apart. Again, she sidestepped him just when he was sure he had her nailed good.
As he stumbled past, he glimpsed her whirling in a reverse kick. Now what?
What was that her boot heel slammed into his ear, smashing it and spinning him face-first into a stone wall. The impact hurt something fierce, and the wound was as much to his pride as to his hearing.
Snarling like the beast that he was, McGill fought harder. But this clever trickster of a woman was always just out of reach, stunning him with shots that hit like thrown bricks, one after the other.
As his body slowly broke down, an unbelievable reality struck him: for the first time in his life, he was facing someone faster and more powerful than he was. A woman! A human! He couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t die. He couldn’t even lay a finger on her.
One of her whipping kicks totally collapsed his left kneecap. With a howl of pain, he went all dizzy and crashed to the pavement. He was half-blinded by his own blood, but he could see her, looming above. She even had something to say.
“I don’t feel bad about this,” she whispered through clenched teeth. Then she broke McGill’s neck. And then, Lucy really started to hurt the bastard.
Chapter 93
I WALKED VERY quickly, then began to run through the mean streets of the human slums, making damn sure everyone saw me. There was no way I could find the human leaders in this vast, complex warren—I could only hope that they would find me.
And that they would accept my help before 7-4 started and all was lost.
My oversensitive hearing caught a pop off in the distance—a small, sharp explosion. Weird; it sounded like an old-fashioned gunshot to me.
I calculated the shot to be 1.83 miles away—and the location clicked in my memory.
It was the warehouse where the girl Shanna lived with her ragged tribe—and where I’d helped deliver her baby, her very adorable baby, who I had promised to visit again.
Well, here I was.
I broke into a full-out sprint, racing through the crowds of startled slum dwellers, who cursed me instinctively but also shoved one another to get out of my way. They had to, since I was running at forty-plus miles an hour.
The narrow, murky alley that led to the warehouse was silent and seemed deserted at first look. There was no hint of where the gunshot might have come from.
But something was lying on the broken pavement near the warehouse entrance, approximately fifty yards ahead. Most of the body was hidden by a building’s corner—all I could see were the feet and toes, pointing up, still moving, quivering.
I dropped to a tight combat crouch and edged forward through the shadows—tensed for any noise or movement, but especially a sudden attack.
With every step I took, a little more of the suspicious body came into view—legs, waist, a face.
Face? I haven’t even gotten to the shoulders yet!
Face?
How is that—
Finally, I stared in shock at what I saw. The body’s head, torn from its neck, was actually sitting on top of the blood-soaked torso.
It held a most peculiar expression, like it was still trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong. But the real stunner came when I recognized who the big head belonged to.
Owen McGill.
Chapter 94
I TOOK OFF again, running at half speed now, looking for anybody who might have witnessed the killing of my former partner, my former friend. The murder of an Elite agent was a serious, almost unprecedented crime punishable by slow death.
When I rounded the corner of the alley onto the next street, I spotted two women. They were a few blocks ahead, trying to hurry away. But they were slow, very slow. One was old—and the other was carrying a wee baby. I knew them.
“Shanna, Corliss,” I called as I raced toward them. “I need to talk to you. It’s Hays Baker. Remember me?”
I thought they’d welcome me, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Shanna turned with a glare full of fear and fury. “I thought you were a friend!” she screamed. “You brought the cops.”
I was stunned. Hadn’t I helped deliver her child? “What are you talking about? That’s crazy. Why would you say such a thing?”
“That agent was looking for you,” Corliss said—calmer, but nearly as hostile. “He was going to kill us all. And there’ll be more of them here now!” The two of them turned and hurried into nearby buildings.
“Leave us alone!” Corliss called back. “You’re nothing but trouble. You’ll get us killed.”
I let them go, but pieces started clicking together in my mind. Not many people could have taken McGill down like that—only a few top Elite agents. But it was unthinkable that they’d ever turn on him. Most of them liked the cocky lout—just as I once had.
So what enemy did he have who hated him that much? And who had the courage to fight him, the skill to beat him, the strength to rip him apart?
The question burned in my mind, but no answer came. I knew that even I couldn’t have brought down McGill by myself.
Suddenly, I heard the low growl of a motorbike. It was coming in my direction, coming fast. I swung around to face whoever was roaring up behind me. This couldn’t be good, had to be bad.
As the cycle streaked into sight, the rider hit the brakes and leaned into a long, controlled skid straight at me.
“Jesus, Lucy!”
She brought the bike to a sharp, precise stop,
the front wheel nearly touching my boots. Her eyes were shining, her hands were stained with what I assumed was Owen McGill’s blood.
“Hays, you shouldn’t be here” was her greeting.
Just this once, I shut her up. I kissed Lucy until she finally kissed me back.
Chapter 95
“SO,” I SAID as we finally parted lips. “You’re a lover, not a fighter. And you sure have some explaining to do.”
“One of two possibilities, Hays—you decide. Either a clone blew up at the Agency, or I’m a clone. Which is it? Quickly now.”
I had to smile. “I just kissed the real Lucy. I’m sure of it.”
“Good guess, but I’m a fighter, Hays. And you shouldn’t be here in the slums. Not unless you want to die for the cause. Which is what I plan to do. For real this time.”
“Maybe I do,” I told her. “What’s going on with the resistance? What have you found out about 7-4?”
“You’re the one married to Dr. Mengele,” Lucy snapped. “What did you find out?”
My ears perked up. The distant scream of police cars was stirring the night air, and reality came flooding back for both of us. The clock was on for the destruction of humankind, and we still didn’t know what the Elites had planned. Neither of us did.
“I didn’t find out anything useful, and I don’t see how I can now—I’m on the run myself,” I said. “Let’s say—Lizbeth and I are separated. For good.”
Lucy’s eyes went soft, then suddenly fierce. “We have a last chance. Here’s what we need you to do. Please, Hays. Don’t fight me on this. You won’t like it one bit.”
In a few taut phrases, Lucy told me her plan. Her gaze never wavered. Neither did mine—although I was chilled to the core by what she was asking me to do.
“Ruthless, remember?” she said. “This is life or death—for an entire civilization.”
“I know that. It’s also betrayal—of the worst kind I could imagine,” I said, and nodded grimly. “I’ll do what you ask though.”
“Good-bye, Hays,” Lucy said. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you sooner.” Then she kissed me again—not a clone kiss this time either. Finally, she jumped on her bike and sped away.
Chapter 96
I WATCHED UNTIL Lucy disappeared, then I sprinted in the opposite direction, hopefully to stall the oncoming cops. I’d only have seconds to do it. As soon as they reported that I was here, they’d no doubt get orders to shoot me on sight.
Just then I spotted a couple of staggering Ghools.
They were so high on wyre they either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the police cars swarming into sight. I charged at the pair of punks and clamped a hand around each one’s neck. Then I hoisted them high enough for the approaching cops to see.
The cars skidded to a halt and the troopers came streaming my way, guns out.
“Where the hell have you been?” I yelled like I was still in charge. “What took you so long, you incompetents?”
The lead officer stammered out a few words. “We—we got here as fast as—”
I cut him off, shoving the gasping Ghools toward him.
“Arrest them for the murder of Agent Owen McGill! The rest of you, find their buddies. They attacked McGill like a pack of rats. Tore him apart.”
I waved them toward the woods, then walked the other way—fast. I had to do what I promised Lucy.
And she was right—I didn’t like it one damn bit. It went against everything I had believed in—as an Elite.
Chapter 97
HOME SWEET HOME again—or maybe not. Definitely not!
As I stepped into my old apartment, I was hit with enough memories and feelings to make me dizzy for a week.
Right off, I heard voices coming from my daughters’ bedroom. April and Chloe were here. What could be more bittersweet than that?
“Why do we have to go back to Grandmère’s, Mommy?” Chloe asked.
“Remember, I told you that Daddy’s not feeling well?” Lizbeth said, with tense impatience in her voice. “We’ve got to give him the proper time to rest and become himself again. Poor Daddy. Besides, the city is dangerous right now. I told you that, girls.”
“Grandmère’s no fun. She’s a grump and she doesn’t have enough toys,” April complained.
“I’ll bring you toys. But right now, we have to hurry. Let’s go, girls. Now! You can bring Jacob and Jessica if you insist. And don’t ever call Grandmère a grump.”
They were coming out of the girls’ room, so I slipped inside the front closet and partially closed the door behind me. Then I climbed straight up.
There was only a foot of space between the top shelf and the ceiling, but I wedged myself into it, folding my body like a pretzel.
It was damned uncomfortable, but the very dangerous and humanphobic Metallico was bustling around the apartment somewhere, and I couldn’t afford to have him or Lizbeth, or especially the kids, see me.
Just being here was bad enough, but hopefully I could do what I had to do without badly scaring the girls. They’d be confused, but fine. There was no way I could explain myself to them now, only hope that someday they might understand that I had done the right thing. For humans, and even for Elites.
After a few seconds, Metallico actually came into view. He was carrying their little overnight bags, which he set down at the front door. “Let’s go, ladies!”
Let’s go, indeed. I focused my wrist chron on his head. I’d already set it on DM—Deactivation Mode. I carried this special device because robots occasionally got in our way when we were carrying out missions. Sending out a DM signal shut them down in a hurry.
I touched the control, feeling a tingle myself as an electron pulse shot into Metallico’s circuitry.
The family robot made a sound like a groan, stopped dead in his tracks, then locked in place like he’d been turned to stone. He’d be back to his old self as soon as he was reset—although if I had anything to say about it, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
I eased out of my little niche in the closet, then dropped back down to the floor without making a sound.
“Lizbeth! Would you come here a second?” I called out—mimicking Metallico’s sassy tone.
I could gauge her annoyance by her sharp, angry footsteps—she practically stomped down the central hallway in my direction.
“Honestly, Metallico, can’t you handle something this simple on your own?”
I stepped all the way out of the closet now. Lizbeth stopped in midstep, her eyes widening in shock. I stared back at the wife who had heartlessly betrayed and manipulated me, then abandoned me to die.
But this was still the most heart-wrenching thing I’d done yet. Now I was betraying her. There was no other word for this.
“You’re coming with me, Lizbeth,” I said. “I’ll do my best to keep you alive. The girls might not have a father much longer, and I’d like to leave them a mother. But if I have to take you dead, I will. You’re just as useful either way.”
“You unbelievable bastard,” she barked. “This is our home, Hays.”
“We’re leaving home now. Make up your mind. Dead or alive?”
It took her a few seconds to compute her chances in a brawl against me. Then she answered with a taut, hair-tossing nod. I motioned to the apartment door. Lizbeth went ahead and reached to open it. I couldn’t see what else she was up to.
Suddenly a vicious rrrhhh erupted behind me—a growl like from a savage beast that’s ready to feed. I whirled to face Metallico, who was charging with his steel fingers ready to pierce through my body like spikes.
“Traitor!” the robot yelled. “Human turd!”
“Nice mouth,” I said. “There are children here, you know.”
Chapter 98
I BARELY MANAGED to twist myself sideways, just in time to avoid being severely maimed or possibly killed. Metallico’s rigid and powerful hand raked across my chest, slashing through an inch of flesh and scraping my rib bones raw.
As
the powerful and determined robot lunged past me, I pivoted and kicked his legs out from under him, watching as he sailed headlong into the wall and then crashed down to the floor.
But he sprang right back up and at me again, still snarling that ugly rrrhhh.
Deactivation Mode, hell! I thought. The only way to deactivate that berserk hunk of silicone was to bust him up into byte-sized scraps. I’d been right all along that something was seriously scrambled in his wiring.
Now it flashed through my mind that maybe it was no accident—and that Lizbeth had secretly modified him to protect herself and the girls from me.
My darling wife wasn’t standing still either—she’d taken off running toward the kitchen. “Leave me alone, Hays,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m warning you.”
I couldn’t let Lizbeth go, so I grabbed the granite-topped coffee table and slammed it into Metallico’s very thick skull. Then I went after Lizbeth. Though not as physically ferocious as Metallico, she was still just as dangerous.
But the robot was on me before I could get to her, and the two of us went into mortal-combat mode again. I was hammering him with fists and elbows and knees, while slipping like a snake to dodge his gouging fingers. The wounds from where he’d already raked me were streaming blood now, slicking my skin and staining my shirt bright red.
Through the blur of his attacking parts, I could see Lizbeth literally tearing at the kitchen wall. What in hell is she doing now?
Good God! She was yanking loose the controlled-fusion unit that powered all the appliances in the apartment. If she touched me with the feed-out prong, I’d be fried to cinders.
“Lizbeth—you wouldn’t!” I called to her.
“I certainly will. Watch me!”
Chapter 99
I CAUGHT METALLICO’S wrist in my hands, clamped down on it with a viselike grip, and leaped up in a double backflip. Strong as he was, the torque was too much for him—I tore his arm loose at the shoulder, leaving it hanging by a single cluster of wire, which I then ripped away.