Extensis Vitae: Empire of Dust Page 13

  “Too much time spent contracting with the lowest bidder, I suppose,” Rin said with a straight face.

  Reznik chuckled, and Rin cracked a half smile. “Yeah, some things never change.”

  A soft chime from the cruiser interrupted their thoughts, and the ship reduced its speed dramatically. “We’ve just about reached Planter’s Ridge,” Rin announced.

  The two of them sat up straight and peered out the window as they came upon Planter’s Ridge. Reznik gasped as he saw the blackened crater that had once been the hearty little wasteland town.

  Rin tapped a button on her tablet and spoke a quiet command in Japanese. The cruiser hovered and then descended. Their eyes met, and Reznik saw the same anger and sadness he was feeling.

  I had hoped this hadn’t happened, but now we know the truth. Rin had told him earlier that a Shiru drone had captured images of the destroyed village, but seeing it up close was like a gut punch. A town of innocent, decent, hard-working people… such a needless damn slaughter. As hard as I’ve been working to help the people out, it sometimes feels like I’m trying to bail water out of a leaky boat with a teaspoon.

  The ship touched down gently a short distance from the destruction, and Reznik and Rin exited the cruiser side by side. A stiff breeze blew from the east, stirring up ash and dust. Planter’s Ridge looked as though a small nuke had gone off, but he could detect only trace amounts of radiation on his HUD.

  Reznik’s hand rested on the butt of the .45 holstered at his waist. With Rin’s invitation, he had helped himself to a weapon locker at the Shiru building before boarding the cruiser. He’d been delighted to find a revolver similar to the one he’d carried until Skin City.

  “It seems the wasteland is nothing but a place where broken pieces of lives are discarded, waiting for someone like us to come along and pick them up. This must end,” Rin said in a low voice that was almost a growl.

  Reznik picked up a twisted scrap of sheet metal scorched on one side. “General Store” it had once read, but the paint had blistered and largely flaked off in the intense heat of the explosion. He sighed as he surveyed the debris field spread out over several city blocks. “You’re right. Thorne Industries has to be stopped—and they will be.”

  The two of them walked a short distance through the ruins, but it was clear nothing could have survived. The crater was twenty feet deep and eighty feet across. Reznik recalled a survival shelter located beneath the small inn, but he saw nothing remaining but the skeleton of the building’s foundation. He doubted any other shelters in town had fared any better.

  The wind whistled through the blasted ruins, a wailing sound that turned into a low groan. Rin suddenly froze, listening intently, eyes scanning the ruins. The sound came again, and Reznik realized it wasn’t the wind.

  “What is that?” He slipped the .45 from its holster.

  Rin pointed behind the ruins of the inn. “There’s something there.” Her hand moved to the hilt of her katana.

  The two of them advanced. Something stirred in the shadow against the wall. A massive, dark form crouched, nearly invisible against the blackened ruins except for a pair of burning green eyes.

  “Mutant,” Reznik hissed, cocking the hammer of the revolver. When he got a closer look, he saw that the creature posed little threat. It looked starved and sickly, its once-powerful form little more than ropy muscles covering bones. The dusky skin was covered in painful-looking sores.

  “Reeezniiiik,” the creature growled. It leaned heavily on the ruined wall, advancing with a limp, its right leg twisted awkwardly. Scars from what looked like laser burns marred its chest. The mutant was female.

  Getting over his shock, Reznik asked, “How do you know me? What is your name?” He relaxed and reholstered the handgun.

  The mutant coughed wetly, and then its words came more easily. “Do you no longer recognize me? You once did a great service for those of us from Planter’s Ridge. It turned out for naught, unfortunately.”

  “Anna?” Rin asked in shock. “You’re Anna, aren’t you?”

  Reznik gaped at the mutant that had once been a middle-aged woman who served as Ichiro’s caretaker and nurse for the town. “Oh my God… what happened?”

  “Yes, that was my name. That tainted food and water the Bright Ones fed us in captivity is what happened. A few days after you left, we started to change—those of us who were too cowardly to take our own lives, that is. Soon after that, the Thorne troops attacked the village. It didn’t come totally without cost to them, however.” Anna gestured to her leg and scarred torso.

  “I’m so sorry. We tried to get a message to Hank before the assault, but neither of us could get through.”

  “It’s no matter. You already saved the town once. Ichiro said they had been blocking all communications for two days prior.” She sat heavily on a chunk of cement. “I’m sure by that point it was too late to get a message through.”

  “How did you survive?” Rin asked.

  “Those few of us that survived the initial ground attack fell back to the bunker. The bomb they dropped destroyed the bunker and everyone else, except me. This…”—she gestured to her mutated form bitterly—“this form allowed me to survive the strike. But just barely. I made my way to Ichiro’s and stayed there for a time until I regained my strength. He had his own destiny to fulfill, however, so I bade him farewell after a couple months. I’ve been roaming the wasteland aimlessly since. Where can a monster such as me go? Any town I come near shoots at me on sight.”

  Reznik felt pity for Anna. The brave woman had helped him fight off mutants after the rescue in the exclusion zone, only to end up one herself.

  “Will you do one last favor for me?” Anna asked.

  “Name it,” he said instantly. “What do you need? Food, water, medical care?”

  “We can get you help back at Shiru,” Rin added. “I’m sure, with our biotech, we can try to reverse the process or even try to reskin you…”

  Anna waved away their offers. Her toothy maw twisted into what might have been a grim smile. “Thank you for the offers, my friends, but I just wish to be at peace. I am ailing and in constant pain. The tainted waters of the Bright Ones’ lair provided them relief from this condition, but that den was destroyed like the town. I waste away physically, but even worse, my memory has become foggy… I sometimes barely remember the woman I once was. The only clear memories are of the monster I have become. Even knowing you are friends to me, I still feel the bloodlust inside… I fear I wouldn’t reintegrate to society successfully even if your biotech could somehow help me.”

  Reznik exchanged a glance with Rin. “If that’s what you wish, Anna,” Reznik said sadly.

  “It is. I don’t want to end my life a mindless beast.” She sighed and went silent for a moment before continuing. “I’m afraid there is one additional favor I must ask. Please don’t let Thorne get away with this. Don’t let Planter’s Ridge be forgotten.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Rin vowed. She reached for her sword, but Reznik placed his hand on her arm.

  “I’ll do it.”

  Rin met his eyes and nodded silently before turning and walking back toward the cruiser.

  Anna broke into a coughing fit. “Thank you.” He voice wheezed after the fit passed.

  “Close your eyes, Anna. Be at peace, knowing you and the other people of Planter’s Ridge won’t be forgotten,” Reznik said quietly. He drew and cocked the .45—the other hand he placed on Anna’s shoulder, feeling unnatural heat radiating from her body. Up close, he could see the fine, faintly glowing green tendrils spreading across her body like a plant’s fine root system. “There’s a reckoning coming very soon. Thorne will be found owing greatly.”

  The boom of the big pistol shattered the stillness of the blasted ruins, sending a startled crow winging away across the wasteland’s lonely sky.

  Chapter 19

  Marcus looked nervously around the seedy industrial area of the District Sprawl. The block consi
sted of rundown storefronts covered in graffiti. Mounds of garbage littered the cracked street, and sagging razor-wire fences closed off the grounds of abandoned warehouses. A rat scurried across the street and disappeared through a crack beneath a warped door of what appeared to be a squatters’ den.

  Beefy and Taciturn armed themselves with their customary SMGs from the trunk of the limo. They both wore tactical vests, the pockets of which they filled full of spare magazines. When they were locked and loaded, Taciturn locked the vehicle down. Breaking into the armored limo would take quite a bit of persistence.

  Marcus had wanted to take a nondescript vehicle, but his security detail had insisted on the limo. The duo hadn’t questioned their destination, however, and in fact seemed more compliant since the updated directives Marcus had given them.

  Nothing like sticking out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Hopefully, this won’t take long—just need to make the handoff, and we should be out of here in fifteen minutes or less. Marcus wouldn’t have minded spending more time catching up with his father, but he was afraid of what would happen to the two of them if they were caught.

  He nervously palmed the chip in his pocket containing the schematics for the TI compound. He couldn’t be certain his theft hadn’t been detected, but he had stolen the information two days before, and it hadn’t seemed to have drawn any undue attention thus far. Just need to get this over with. Another week or so, and we should be ready to put the plan in motion.

  With Beefy and Taciturn flanking him, Marcus started down the deserted street toward the factory where the meet would take place. The two bodyguards kept their weapons at the ready, intently scanning their surroundings for signs of trouble. Marcus’s eyes kept darting nervously around, expecting CorpSec to burst out of one of the ruined buildings and arrest him at any moment for his treason.

  Broken glass crunched beneath their feet as they rounded a corner onto a wider street. An old corner bar had long ago been gutted by fire. The stench of human waste emanating from inside was overpowering through the shattered windows.

  A couple blocks ahead, the hulking shape of the old robotics factory loomed. Weed-choked open ground spread for a hundred yards or more ahead. Perhaps the sight of the heavily armed bodyguards had discouraged any thoughts of trouble, but Marcus was amazed that the area could be so deserted in an urban area of roughly a million people.

  “We should proceed with caution, Director,” Beefy said suddenly. “I’m picking up transmissions from CorpSec activity in the area.”

  Marcus froze. “Can you tell where?” He was suddenly aware of the lack of cover ahead of them once they passed the ruined bar. He intently watched the fields and buildings ahead, but all seemed quiet.

  “Negative. I was performing a frequency scan in the event of any reports of active criminal or terrorist activity that might pose a threat, and I came across an active encrypted channel on a frequency often used by CorpSec.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “I don’t have the encryption key—it’s scrambled. I can just tell it’s in use and the signal is fairly strong.”

  “Well, keep your eyes and ears open.” Marcus made to proceed, but Beefy clamped a massive hand around his arm.

  “Sir, I highly advise against proceeding on your… errand,” he said diplomatically. Marcus got the distinct impression the man was judging him negatively but had thought better of voicing an opinion.

  “Reservations noted. Let’s proceed.”

  The pair nodded curtly and advanced, their body language even tenser than before.

  Taciturn whirled at a sudden motion to their left, but a scrap of cloth had just gotten caught on a coil of razor wire atop a sagging fence.

  Minutes seemed to become hours as they advanced across the open field. In the distance, a dog barked incessantly, but everything nearby was eerily silent. Eventually, they made it to the cover of a crumbling warehouse building at the intersection.

  The fading sign of Apex Robotics was just across the street. A heavy chain-link fence topped with razor wire encircled the massive building. The old factory appeared deserted. An expansive, potholed parking lot lay empty except for countless weeds growing through the cracks. The loading dock where they had been instructed to enter was around the back.

  “I guess this is it,” Marcus announced. With one last glance around for any signs of trouble, he took a deep breath and strode across the street toward the factory.

  ***

  Mason twirled a Skin City chip across the knuckles of his cybernetic hand. He had long since ceased to be surprised at how well the artificial limb functioned. Although getting his replacement arm and the rest of his augmentations had cost a small fortune—in addition to calling in every favor owed him—it was well worth the cost in his opinion.

  Maybe they were right all along—human flesh is too weak to keep up in this era of skins. It would have been better to never have gone through the ordeal in the first place, but I suppose it turned out as well as could be expected. I haven’t done too badly keeping up these last years, being half flesh and half machine.

  He studied his scarred meat hand. Taking the chip, he tried to repeat the task of making the chip dance across his knuckles, but it slipped out and bounced off his thigh, falling to the floor of the factory below with a faint clatter.

  The Apex Robotics factory brought back powerful memories of that fateful night twenty years past. Bethany and he had battled to the death, or so he had thought. The bitch obviously wasn’t dead, though, as he had seen for himself during the assault on the rebel base at Devils Tower. The thought of the woman who had murdered his family and nearly killed him getting to spend the past twenty years with his estranged son roiled his guts. Of all the things that had either been stolen from him, or that he had pissed away himself through his own doing over the last twenty years, that thought hurt the most.

  As fucked up as it is, things are finally looking up a little. At least we might still be able to put together some type of life after this is over. That hopeful thought crossed his mind before he could stifle it. The thought was strange—like a bright ray of sunshine intruding on a perpetually gloomy, rainy day. Dreams of vengeance against Thorne Industries had consumed Mason for so long, he hadn’t ever tried to picture what his life would be like if he survived the campaign. He quickly shoved those optimistic thoughts aside. Such things were dangerous and could distract him at the wrong moment, compromising the whole operation.

  The rusted-out wreck of the machine that had ripped off his arm crouched menacingly a dozen paces away on the factory floor, like some monstrous Rottweiler that, given the chance, would lunge at him if he passed too close, trying to tear off his other arm. With grim satisfaction, Mason noticed a hasty patch job hadn’t concealed the deep gouges in the floor—battle scars dealt by the plasma cutter he had used to cut Bethany St. Pierre to pieces, ending the battle.

  He recalled his old friend Rick Davis helping him escape. I wonder what happened to Rick? He wasn’t listed in the active personnel roster for Thorne Industries that we hacked into. Hopefully, he’s living out a peaceful retirement a long ways from here.

  “What’s on your mind?” Keeva interrupted Mason’s thoughts as she sat down beside him at the edge of the catwalk overlooking the ruins of the factory floor. She swung her legs back and forth and tried to focus on whatever Mason’s gaze was fixated on. He doubted she could, since his pupil-less chrome eyes made it difficult to know what he was looking at.

  “This place just brings back dark memories, that’s all. My whole life went down the shitter after the last time I was here. I lost my arm in that machine over there.” He pointed to the massive conveyor belt that had carried machine chassis between work stations. “And up there”—he gestured to a rusted-out bucket frozen overhead—“was where molten metal poured from and burned out my eyes.”

  “Shit, man. That sounds like a pretty painful way to go.” Keeva winced in sympathy.

  Mason shrugg
ed. “Pain is just a state of mind. The relief… the pleasure I got from killing Bethany St. Pierre made up for it. Or so I thought.”

  Keeva smacked him on the thigh. “We’ll get her for real this time and get your son back to you. Come on—he’ll be here any time.”

  Mason got to his feet and followed Keeva over to the foreman’s office, where the team had set up their equipment. “Any sign of trouble?”

  “Nothing. I’m surprised it’s been so quiet. Other than an occasional burnt-out junkie or stray dog sniffing around, it’s dead outside.”

  “Hey, Mason,” Junior greeted him as he entered the small room.

  Mack and Ciera nodded their greetings as well. The group was just finishing up their lunches. Sawyer and Turner were keeping watch outside.

  “I just picked up Marcus making his way down the street.” Junior gestured with his half-eaten sandwich to a screen showing the video feed from one of the many cameras they had placed around the building to monitor all approaches. “He’s got a couple of grunts with him.”

  Mason leaned forward and studied the grainy image. “Those must be the two he mentioned last time—he was going to attempt to reprogram them. Let’s just keep an eye on them in case they decide to get creative and rebel against their directives.”

  He was about to turn away when something caught his eye on one of the other video feeds. “What’s that, right there? Zoom in.”

  Junior brought the video feed Mason indicated to the foreground and blew it up full screen. He zoomed in on another ruined industrial building across the street.

  “Right there.” Mason pointed at the roof. For a moment, he thought it was nothing, just artifacts of the grainy video, but then a figure moved inside a doorway. “There’s someone there.”

  They watched another minute, during which the figure remained still before flicking what could have been a cigarette butt out the doorway. He stooped and retrieved an item leaning beside the door. Mason recognized the pulse rifle immediately.