Cyber Dawn (A Ben Raine Novel) (27 page)

Four left.

I swallowed hard.
Nice shooting, James.

Up ahead and across a field I spotted the faint glow of lights. In the absence of cover from the trees, I decided the next best thing was to get somewhere more public. Somewhere CyberLife would be less likely to take a shot at us. Of course, killing FBI agents seemed like no big deal, so who knew if there was a line they wouldn’t cross.

I tried to pull Sarah along at a faster pace. Her breathing was rapid and the longer we ran, the more she relied on me to carry her. We crossed the field and slowed at the dirt shoulder of a road. I half-expected to see the black Range Rovers pull up, but the road was quiet. In the distance, sirens roared. James had mentioned the sheriff’s department was sending a SWAT team. Of course, we weren’t actually in the construction zone anymore, so I wasn’t sure it even mattered.

“Come on, Sarah,” I whispered. I pulled her up and onto the pavement. “We have to hurry.”

We limped across the road to the edge of the subdivision. On one corner of the intersection sat a large apartment complex, surrounded by a five-foot stone wall. I struggled to help Sarah climb over. We landed hard on the opposite side.

“Ben, I can’t . . .” she said.

We leaned against the wall to rest for a few seconds. The four red dots on my tracking sphere moved cautiously across the field we had just run through. Clearly the Reaper was making sure the commandos didn’t have to try hard to find us.

“Come on, Sarah,” I said. “We have to keep moving.”

I pulled her up with one hand and pulled the P226 from my pocket with the other. I fired twice into the air. The sound of the shots thundered through the apartment complex.

“What . . . are you doing?” Sarah mumbled.

“Calling the cavalry,” I said.

We ran as fast as we could between two buildings, then skirted the edge of the complex’s outdoor swimming pool. On the far side was a gazebo, surrounded by shrubs and trees. Inside was a long, wooden bench.

I lay Sarah down on it and checked my sphere. The four red dots were clustered together, three hundred feet away. I guessed that was about where the outside wall was, but I couldn’t be sure.

The sirens grew louder.

“Police?” Sarah said, breathlessly.

“They are coming, Sarah. Just hang in there.”

“Can’t . . . trust them.”

I thought about Sarah’s words as I unpacked the med kit. She had gone to the police earlier, only to be turned over to the FBI. And then, of course, shot.

“I know,” I replied. “But maybe they can scare off the CyberLife guys.”

She nodded, then said, “I’m . . . okay.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “I’m going to use the kit now.”

She closed her eyes.

I focused and tried to remain calm. First aid wasn’t exactly my specialty. I pulled Sarah’s coat off, reached in, and slid her t-shirt down over her shoulder.

“Don’t be getting all frisky while you’re in there, Benjamin,” she said, smiling.

“Well, at least you can’t punch me with that hole in your shoulder.”

“I’m right handed, remember?”

I laughed.

The medical kit contained a small penlight with a red lens. I turned it on and stuck it between my teeth. Next, I pulled out the first pouch. Inside was a syringe filled with a brown liquid—iodine. Per the instructions, I sprayed it on Sarah’s shoulder, front and back.

“Stay with me, Sarah,” I said as I threw the syringe on the ground and pulled out the second pouch.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she replied with a grimace.

I read the instructions for the blood coagulant and winced. After reading them again just to be sure, I said, “Um, Sarah.”

“Just do it, Ben.”

I hesitated. Already not a fan of needles after three months of chemo, I began to realize how much this was going to hurt. However, the alternative, bleeding out, wasn’t acceptable. With one hand on her chest to hold her down, I popped the cap off the syringe, and shoved the needle into the wound. Sarah forcefully pressed up against my hand as her body went rigid. She was about to scream, so I let go of her chest and placed my hand over her mouth.

With the syringe half-empty, I pulled the needle out.

After several moments, Sarah’s breathing slowed. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Okay. That really sucked.”

“Sorry,” was all I could say. “Have to do it again.”

I gently rolled her to the side, reached behind, and repeated the process for the exit wound. She arched her back again and bit into my hand. When I finished, I discarded the syringe and pulled out the fourth pouch, hoping it didn’t contain any needles.

It didn’t.

I applied the liquid bandage, which smelled oddly like super glue, to each of the two wounds.

The final pouch did have another needle. A broad-spectrum antibiotic. I pulled Sarah’s blood-soaked shirt down farther and, as the instructions stated, injected it into her biceps. Finally, I used gauze and tape to cover the wound front and back. The whole process took less than five minutes.

“I’m impressed,” Sarah said.

“Thanks. First time.”

“I still think you should have left me,” she said as I helped her pull up her shirt and jacket.

I shook my head and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Never.”

Movement on my HUD drew my attention away from Sarah. The commandos, apparently having decided to risk entering the apartment complex, were close and moving fast.

I pulled her off the bench and peered out the gazebo’s entrance. Thirty feet away, four black-clad figures stalked around the outdoor pool. They were crouched low, moving from cover to cover with precise movement. Each held a black assault rifle at the ready.

With one hand, I pushed Sarah toward the gazebo’s rear exit. With the other, I fired two shots in the direction of the approaching men. In the silence of the apartment complex, the shots sounded like thunderclaps. I couldn’t tell if I’d hit what I aimed at, but the rounds were close enough to send the men rushing for cover.

“Go, Sarah!” I yelled.

I fired two more shots and then looked down at her. She stared back, eyes wide and mouth open as if ready to say something. I kneeled next to her, and said. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.”

She hesitated, then said, “You better.”

I gave her another subtle nudge out the gazebo’s back door. When I was sure she was actually leaving, I raised my pistol and aimed back at the approaching men. One took cover behind a brown metal trash can. I put the crosshair on it, and fired. The round clinked off the metal and the man pulled back.

On my tracking sphere, another red dot broke off to the left. Fearing he was going after Sarah, I backed out of the gazebo and ran quickly around its side. I spotted the commando darting for a low wall that surrounded the pool. I aimed, moving my arm until the crosshair lined up with his legs, and pulled the trigger. An instant later, he grunted and fell to the ground.

I smiled and pulled back behind cover. Another commando ran around the opposite wall. Again, I aimed and pulled the trigger.

This time, nothing happened. I inspected the gun. The slide was extended.

Empty.

I fumbled to pull a new clip from my pocket and reload the gun—an easy and nearly instantaneous process in a video game. In real life? Under fire? Another story.

Not confident I could make the gun shoot again, I did the next best thing.

I dropped the gun and ran.

I fled down the small hill on the opposite side of the gazebo. Thirty feet ahead was a gap between two apartment buildings. A person crouched low behind some shrubs. I slowed until I realized it was Sarah. She motioned frantically for me to follow.

“Sarah, what in the hell are you doing,” I said breathlessly as I fell to the grass next to her. “I told you to run.” I swiveled my head around and spotted three commandos moving through the gazebo and down the hill toward us. Their guns were still out and ready. So far, they had not returned fire.

“Come on, hurry,” Sarah whispered. “I have an idea.”

I didn’t argue.

We weaved around several apartment buildings until we reached a parking lot. Off to the right were the sounds of police sirens and screeching tires.

Sarah stopped and we crouched between two cars. She put her hand on the door of one, a black BMW 335i.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Hack it,” Sarah said.

“What?”

“Hack it,” she repeated. “They have a Wi-Fi network and you can start them with your phone.”

I finally got it. An instant later, the driver door opened.

Sarah shook her head, and said, “You’re getting better at this.”

I shrugged and climbed behind the wheel. The fact I was stealing a $50k car barely registered. I pulled it out of the parking spot and headed to the back entrance. As we approached, the gate slowly slid open.

“Come on,” I growled. “Hurry up!”

When the gate opened just enough, I slipped the BMW through. To our right I could see a half-dozen police cars converging on the apartment complex. I turned in the opposite direction and sped away.

44

In the passenger seat, Sarah sat still and stared out the window. She cradled her left arm with her right.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Hurts,” she said, without turning away from the window. “But better now that you stopped the bleeding. Thanks, Ben.” She closed her eyes and pushed herself deeper into the seat.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered.

She dozed off and I concentrated on driving. Every few seconds I glanced at her, just to make sure her chest was rising and falling. I hated myself for getting her involved. It seemed like such a simple request at the time. Hack the network, find the proof, tell the cops.

Didn’t exactly work out the way
, I thought.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the hospital’s E.R. parking lot. Sarah opened her eyes and looked around.

“What are we doing here, Ben?”

“You have a bullet in your shoulder, remember?”

“Not technically,” she said. “It went through.”

“Funny.” I narrowed my eyes. “Fine, you have a
hole
in your shoulder.”

“You’re not dropping me off.”

“What do you want me to do, Sarah?” I said, my anger rising.

“Well, for starters,” she replied. “Not leave me at the hospital. The last time you dropped me off, it didn’t work out so well. Remember?”

I remained silent as I pulled the BMW into a parking spot.

When I didn’t reply, Sarah’s face hardened. “What’s your plan, Ben? You going to leave me here then drive to CyberLife and turn yourself in to Merrick?”

“Pretty much.”

“You jerk,” she said. “After all we’ve been through this weekend, you’re just going to turn yourself in? Are you kidding?”

I shook my head. “It’s the only way to get them away from you.”

“That’s BS, Ben,” Sarah said. “And you know it.”

Her face was red now.

“Look,” I said. “I’m not just going to turn myself in. First, I’m telling the world what they did.”

“How?”

I pulled my bag off the back seat and handed it to Sarah.

“By putting all of this online.”

Sarah reached into the bag with her good hand and pulled out the journals.

“I found a ton of information,” I said. “Journals from Carter, a hard drive hidden in Megan’s things. Should be enough to show that CyberLife was killing kids. I’m going to scan what I can and upload it to one of those WikiLeak sites.”

“And then turn yourself in?”

I frowned. “Enough people have died because of me. Megan, Sofia, those FBI agents. All because of this secret.” I jabbed my finger at the journals. “CyberLife isn’t going to stop because we got away this once. They know where I live. Where my parents live. And don’t forget, I need Cytoxinol. I can’t get that at the local drug store.”

Her face softened.

“If they have me,” I continued. “They don’t need you. That’s all that matters now.”

She started to cry, then leaned over and kissed me. “You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

We sat in silence for a moment. “So you’ll go inside?” I said.

“No.”

“Sarah, I can’t . . .” I protested.

“Stop, Ben. We’re in this together. I’m going with you and that’s final.” She held the hard drive up. “Do you even know how to access this thing?”

I stared out the windshield at the glass doors of the E.R. Beyond, I could see a nurse sitting at the front desk. I was thirty feet from getting Sarah to safety. Or was I? Would dropping her off at the E.R. really be safe? Or would CyberLife come after her anyway?

I didn’t know. And there was no way I could know.

I looked at her and studied her face. Some of the color had returned and I could see a fierce intensity in her eyes. At that moment I knew nothing could change her mind.

“Okay,” I finally said.

She sat back in the passenger seat and grinned. “Good answer. For a second there, I thought I was going to have to hit you again.”

I laughed and pulled the BMW back onto the street. “You know, you really should see someone about that.”

“About what?” she asked.

“About always hitting people.”

She shook her head, then said, “I only hit you. Now where to?”

“Your office,” I replied as I turned the BMW north. “Those document scanners in the library are finally going to get some use.”

45

Five minutes later, we ran across the grass to the back door. This time, there was no sign of Oscar.

“Uh oh,” Sarah said. “I don’t have my security badge.”

“I got it,” I said as my system hacked the door. I reached around her and pressed the handle down.