Just let me have MikkyBo, MosesKhan thinks. I’m going to tear her body limb from limb.
CHAPTER 73
“SIT STILL,” MIKKY says, elbowing me. Hard. “I’m trying to fix this.”
“Ow. What’s your problem?” I ask, rubbing the new sore spot on my ribs.
We’re sitting in the toolshed—my former Q-comp hideout—and Mikky’s fiddling with something that looks like an old-fashioned radio. J.J.’s got so much electronic junk lying around, we could probably build a rocket to the moon with it.
“The premier is about to make a speech in the Central Arena,” Mikky informs me.
I watch her connect two of the gadget’s wires, and a small spark leaps out and lands on her bioskin. She doesn’t even notice. “What do I care what some dumb Hu-Bot has to say?” I ask.
Mikky looks at me like she’s considering elbowing me again, but then she just shakes her head. “Because he’s the enemy, Six.” She takes a deep breath, like it’s still hard for her to say that. “And we need to know what he’s up to.”
“Did J.J. tell you to—”
“J.J.’s too busy planning the attack,” she interrupts. “You and I are the intelligence committee, okay?” She pauses. “Though that’s sort of an oxymoron when it comes to you,” she mutters.
But then she flashes a quick, bright smile—either because she’s teasing me or because she’s finally got her little gadget working. “See, I’m going to listen via slipstream,” she explains, “but I’m going to transmit it through these speakers. So you can hear it, too.”
“Whatever,” I say, leaning back on the burlap sacks. “I’m going to close my eyes. If we’re going to start a war in the next few days, I should get my beauty rest.”
A burst of static comes over the speakers, followed by the sound of thunderous applause. The clapping lasts a minute, at least, but then it’s cut off instantly.
“My fellow Hu-Bots,” booms a powerful but slightly quavering voice. “Welcome. And welcome to our one thousand human guests, here in the seats of honor before me.”
“That’s the premier,” Mikky whispers. “The very first Hu-Bot ever created.” Her voice still carries a trace of awe.
He sounds old, I think. And also: What the hell are humans doing at this speech? I start to ask Mikky, but she puts her finger to her lips.
The premier’s voice echoes through the speakers. “I have asked you to come here today for a very important reason: to renew your dedication to the Hu-Bot creed of unity, prosperity, and peace.”
I snort. “I think he meant to say ‘atrocity, brutality, and enslavement,’” I say. Mikky elbows me for the second time.
“Shut up,” she hisses.
The premier clears his throat and goes on. “It has come to my attention that there has been some violent… discourse with our human neighbors. There have been misunderstandings, which must trouble you as they trouble me. We must remember that, though humans are far less advanced, we must take pity on them.”
Pity? I think. We don’t need your stinking pity.
“How else can we as Hu-Bots continue to evolve,” the premier continues, “if we do not respect our origins?”
He pauses, and I can hear the silence. Hu-Bots don’t like remembering that we were the ones who made them.
“The thing about pity,” the premier says, “is that it comes in many forms. Sometimes pity means giving scraps to the stray dog you find on the street.” There’s another long pause. “And sometimes it means putting that dog out of its misery.”
A murmur rises up in the background. I hear confused human voices in the arena. I sit up sharply. What the hell is he talking about?
Mikky’s eyes widen at me. She holds up a finger: Wait.
My heart begins to pound. I don’t like the sound of this at all.
The premier calls for silence again. “I ask my fellow Hu-Bots to please join me by connecting via slipstream, so that our thoughts will be as one,” he says.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
Mikky goes pale. “If they connect with him, it can give him the ability to control their thoughts.”
“Does that—”
“It means he can reprogram them.”
I don’t have time to react, because the premier’s voice rises above the sound of the crowd again. It’s taken on a terrifying, savage tone. “The human race has become like a mangy, starving, but streetwise cur. We have tried to feed this creature, and what does it do? It maliciously turns around and bites us. And so, my fellow Hu-Bots, the time has come to assert our authority again.” He pauses, letting that sink in. “Know that I tell you the truth!” he yells.
“You tell us the truth,” the Hu-Bots murmur.
“The chief obstacle to the progress of the Hu-Bot race is the human race!” he shouts.
“The chief obstacle to the progress of the Hu-Bot race is the human race,” the Hu-Bots repeat.
The background noise coming through the speakers grows. I can almost see the humans in the arena with him, suddenly terrified, shifting around in their seats. Standing up. Making for the exits.
I stand up, too.
“And so it follows that humans are a grave threat to Hu-Bot survival!” the premier hollers.
But the Hu-Bots don’t repeat after him this time. Instead, there’s silence.
“Mikky?” I ask fearfully.
But then noise bursts out of the speakers again, and it seems that every Hu-Bot voice in the stadium shouts out as one: “ALL HUMANS MUST BE DESTROYED!”
“No!” I shriek, grabbing for the radio.
And then comes the sound of screaming, a thousand throats opening up in terror. And then one lone, desperate voice soars above the rest—it’s a woman’s piercing cry. It’s telling me what I can’t bear to hear. “Help! They’re murdering us!”
Instantly I’m out of the shed and racing for the jeep. Mikky shoots out after me, but she grabs my arm, yanking me away from the car. “We have to save them!” I cry, fighting her off.
She doesn’t say a word—she just picks me up and throws me onto her back. “Hold on,” she barks. And then, just like that, she sprints down the mountain road a hundred times faster than that jeep could ever go, with me clinging to her shoulders, holding on for dear life.
The world rushes by in a multicolored blur—we get to the arena in what feels like only seconds. The last of the Hu-Bots are filing out the doors, their faces peacefully blank. They walk slowly, calmly, as if they’ve just left a Sunday sermon.
They’re completely covered in blood.
I stumble at the sight. Mikky pulls me through a side door, and what I see next brings me to my knees. A thousand people—men, women, kids—sprawled on the ground. Twisted, red-smeared limbs. Mangled organs spilling out of mutilated torsos. Throats slit in bloody smiles. Mouths open in never-ending, silent screams.
Every single human dead.
I feel like my mind’s shutting down. I gag. The world goes dark. We’re too late.
CHAPTER 74
IT’S MIDNIGHT, AND there’s no one on the streets but us. The Bot-cops are recharging; the Hu-Bots are tucked into their beds for the night.
Which is why it’s so easy to lay waste to the Hu-Bot shopping district.
Zee Twelve smashes a crowbar into the hood of a parked car. Trip, her eyes ablaze with wrath, hurls a brick through a window. My sister, still so malnourished she can barely stay upright, shoots out a streetlight with an ancient BB gun.
“Nice one!” I say, and she smiles shyly.
Sure, our weapons are sticks and shovels, axes and clubs: pitiful, when you think about what we’re facing. But vengeance makes us strong.
Then, across the way, I spot the restaurant where Dubs and I watched that Hu-Bot eating a T-bone she didn’t even need.
Suddenly my breath catches in my throat, and a sharp pain shoots through my chest. I have to stop and lean against a doorway for a second. Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I miss him so much
.
But I don’t have time to cry. Tonight, grief is a luxury—and Rezzies are strangers to luxury of any kind.
I straighten up, wiping my face. Then I run across the street, lift my pickax, and bring it crashing down into the restaurant’s big glass window. It shatters instantly, glass falling at my feet like diamonds.
Martha slams her pitchfork into another window, and down the street I can see another Rezzie taking a sledgehammer to a Hu-Bot sedan. The air’s filled with the sound of smashing glass, with the resounding ring of metal ripping metal.
Zee Twelve and his cronies have managed to overturn a van, and now flames are shooting out its windows. Then—of all people—Toothless Ten appears, as drunk as ever and dragging a giant bag behind him. “Who wants a Molotov cocktail?” he cries.
The answer is: we all do.
I grab liquor bottles filled with gas and stoppered with alcohol-soaked rags—and then I pitch them into the restaurant. Within moments, the whole place is burning.
My adrenaline’s surging, and the tears are gone—instead I’m laughing and shouting like a crazy person. Finally, we’re all in this together, and we’re giving the Bots a giant middle finger!
Then a siren rips through the night. And that’s our signal. All the kids from the Reserve Trade School drop what they’re doing and fan out in all directions. Moments later, twenty stolen cars come shrieking to a halt in the center of the Hu-Bot square.
Each one is piloted by one of my former classmates.
I slide into the driver’s seat of a black coupe, and Martha clambers into the back. We peel out, zero to sixty in about two seconds.
Never underestimate a stray dog.
CHAPTER 75
AS THE ROAR of police cruisers and the whine of sirens come closer, I duck behind a tree trunk, my Colt cocked. The cop cars appear at the top of the hill, and then a second later, they’re plunging down. They don’t see our roadblock until there’s nothing they can do about it.
I hear the squeal of brakes, the crashing of metal. Almost instantly, I can smell gas—I can taste smoke in my mouth. The cruisers smash into one another and spin out, horns blaring.
It worked! We led them right into our trap.
The Hu-Bots claw their way out of their mangled cars. Half the cruisers are burning already. The Hu-Bot leader is shouting something, but I can’t hear what it is. Maybe he’s telling them to find their weapons; maybe he’s telling them to run.
But it doesn’t matter what he wants. The Hu-Bots on our side suddenly shoot up from behind the tree trunks, surprising their counterparts. A look of relief washes over the leader’s face—but only for an instant.
Because then our Hu-Bots open fire.
The enemy Hu-Bots are trapped, just the way the humans in the arena were. Some of them try to run, the way the humans did.
But the humans were shown no mercy today. And tonight, neither are the premier’s Elite Hu-Bots.
Mikky, dressed head to toe in black like some futuristic model ninja, comes and stands beside me. She gazes out over the carnage with an unreadable expression. “You did it,” she says.
I can’t tell if she’s happy about it—or totally freaked out. Those were her colleagues, after all.
But then she turns to me and suddenly smiles giddily. “Way to go!” she shouts, and raises her hand for a high five.
I slap her palm, laughing at her silly schoolyard gesture. But a feeling of pride washes over me at the same time. My cheeks flush. I haven’t experienced anything like this for years. Tonight, for the first time since I can remember, I don’t feel helpless. I feel triumphant.
I don’t think the Hu-Bots would approve.
CHAPTER 76
“INFRARED CAMERAS SHOW approximately four hundred stationary humans,” AlSordi, MosesKhan’s deputy, informs him. Then he smiles viciously. “They’re all bedded down for the night.”
MosesKhan glances quickly at the small screen, which shows the housing sector of the Reserve. He nods in satisfaction: there they are, the stinking humans, all lying on their moldy mattresses, dreaming.
MosesKhan is about to become their worst nightmare. “Call up the entire Elite Force,” he says.
Minus the twenty EFs the humans took out last night, he thinks bitterly.
AlSordi nods, his eyes sparking with malice. “With that much firepower, you won’t be able to find an intact limb when it’s over.”
MosesKhan nods. “Exactly.” Six helicopters, thirty cruisers: more than enough to obliterate the human pestilence once and for all.
When the choppers land in the courtyard, their roaring blades sound like thunder. Their spotlights rake the Elite Tower’s walls. MosesKhan climbs into the lead helicopter. As its powerful blades spin, he’s lifted jerkily into the air.
In a matter of minutes, they’re near the human garbage dump that is the Reserve. Soon, all trace of human habitation will be wiped out: the tents and lean-tos will fall; the housing blocks will crumble. There will be nothing to remember them by except a broken stone statue in the middle of what used to be a town square.
The premier will be so pleased, MosesKhan thinks.
He glances again at the screen, and he sees one human-shaped blur of light get out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. MosesKhan smiles: how humiliating to die with your pants around your ankles.
The pilot lands the helicopter on a nearby ridge, and the cruisers pull to a stop a mile from the Reserve gates. They’ll go the rest of the way on foot. MosesKhan can taste victory already.
He hasn’t gotten the night-vision upgrade yet, so he lets his Elite Force staff sergeant lead the way down the rocky path. There’s no moon, and the clouds are heavy. He loses his footing for a moment and curses.
At the edge of the Reserve, the wind blows foul and cold. MosesKhan wrinkles his nose. Good riddance to the human garbage.
He motions his men to come up behind him. “On my command,” MosesKhan says.
The soldiers shoulder their weapons, and when MosesKhan gives the signal, they charge. They burst into Tent City, into the housing barracks, guns already firing. Tents collapse, and the cinder-block cells are riddled with holes. But MosesKhan hears no screams. He sees no fleeing, half-naked humans.
After a moment, the Hu-Bots, confused, stop firing. An eerie silence descends.
MosesKhan checks his screen again—and sees that all the glowing dots have moved.
But to where? He’s trying to orient himself, trying to pinpoint just where that cluster of bright dots is, exactly, when the air erupts in gunfire. But this time it’s not his.
Coming toward them up the path are hundreds of Hu-Bots, all dressed in cast-off human clothing. And they’re shooting.
It takes MosesKhan a moment to comprehend what’s happening—perhaps because what’s happening is almost beyond comprehension. Hu-Bots fighting on the side of humans? Hu-Bots aiming their weapons at and shooting other Hu-Bots?
The Elite Force troops, unprepared to shoot their own kind, hesitate. The leader takes a bullet to his forehead. He falls into a tangled heap.
“Fire!” MosesKhan screams, grabbing for his own weapon.
In seconds, it’s an all-out firefight.
MosesKhan’s microprocessors are struggling to take it all in. Somehow, these Hu-Bots have been reprogrammed—they’ve become an army of androids rising up against their own brothers. But where did they come from?
From the Recycling Wards, from the back alleys outside Killer Films, from the forbidden theaters that the premier pretends don’t exist, MosesKhan thinks. They’re nothing but renegades and glitchy Bots, running defective programs.
But they’re excellent marksmen. MosesKhan ducks behind a cinder-block structure as the bullets fly.
There isn’t a human in sight, he realizes. He has been tricked.
Now it is more crucial than ever that these devious humans be eradicated. Every man, woman, and child.
MosesKhan orders his troops to retreat—to go back to the City and ret
urn with greater numbers. He turns around and starts running for the choppers, followed by his EFs.
But in the distant City, he can see a hundred fires burning. And, even as he watches, the Central Arena goes up in a fireball.
Another war has begun.
CHAPTER 77
WE’VE BEEN WAITING for J.J.’s command, but for some reason it’s not coming. The radio’s dead silent.
“Do you think something’s wrong?” Mikky asks quietly, worry creasing her brow.
I shake my head, pretending I know something I don’t. “He was never the best communicator, okay? And anyway, we have our orders.”
Even if they sound like a suicide mission, I add silently.
My hand squeezes tighter around the handle of my ancient Colt. I brought it for luck—the thing misfires like crazy—because we need luck, maybe even more than we need courage. Everything has to go according to plan tonight. Otherwise we can pretty much say good-bye to the entire human population.
With the Elite Force attacking the Reserve, it’s time to storm the City with our own forces: Rezzie riffraff, ex-prisoners, compound die-hards, and a few scared-shitless Reformed defectors.
It’s a crazy, ragtag, sorry-ass bunch of humans, if I’ve ever seen one. But all of us are fighting for our lives—and maybe, just maybe, that gives us an edge.
“We gotta move out,” I tell Mikky.
“But J.J.—” she says.
“—isn’t giving the order,” I say firmly. “So I am.” I turn around and spring up so that I’m standing on the driver’s seat of the jeep. “Everyone, look there!” I shout, pointing toward the gleaming City, which once belonged to us. “The Hu-Bots aren’t expecting us tonight. Truth is, they don’t expect us ever. They think that because we humans feel things—love, hate, anger, joy—that makes us weak and stupid. So let’s show them what happens when the weak and stupid humans decide we are never going to bow down to them ever again!”