Into the Fire (23 page)

Thankfully, I saw the way he was maneuvering his wheelchair to line up the armrests and dived to one side, scrambling away on my hands and knees as two missiles
whooshed
inches over my head and across the lawn, ending up blowing a hole in the fence.

Another of our guys got cut down and as far as I could see, there were now only three of us left. Ray decided he'd had enough, ramming his joystick forward and shooting off toward the breach in the fence, the one other guy left running hell for leather after him.

“
No!
” I called after them, knowing all too well what was about to happen.

Sure enough, Infinity might've only been on emergency power, but they must've decided long ago that under such circumstances, the growlers would take priority, 'cuz once again those mounds began to rise up out of the ground and silver shapes appeared out of the smoky darkness, moving at incredible speed as they went racing toward the intruders.

Even from where I was, and with the spotlights out, I could sense Ray's shock. His chair wobbled for a moment as if he was about to overbalance, but to his credit, he held it together and kept going, weaving from side to side, blasting his cannon. He took out a couple
of them, leaving nothing but strewn piles of flaky junk, but the guy running after him wasn't so lucky.

It hadn't really occurred to me 'til then that the guy was Van's sidekick, but I wasn't altogether surprised; he'd always had that look about him, that he'd find a way of surviving, of sneaking away while others did all the dirty work or dying. Mind you, he had it all wrong this time. He was frantically following in Ray's wake, doing his best not to get isolated, leaping over the occasional growler wreckage, firing his laser indiscriminately, and it was probably that, a programmed response to any threat, that provoked several of those pursuing Ray to turn on him instead.

He managed to shoot one of them, dodged his way around another, but the damn thing just turned on a dime and sped after him like a heat-seeking missile, all the while making that eerie howling and growling sound.

There's nothing very scientific about it once they get to you: they just rip you to pieces, as simple as that. The pursuing growler was alongside him in seconds, snarling and snapping, then it just leapt at him and with one crunch from those huge metallic jaws took off his leg just above the knee.

Jesus, I never seen anything like it—nor do I want to, not ever again. The guy thudded to the ground, screaming at the top of his voice, and several other growlers were on him at once, sinking their teeth into every part of his body, wrenching with those massive jaws, tearing him limb from limb, stripping him bare, reducing him to nothing but a scattering of finely chopped blood and bone.

A couple of Infinity bullets thudded into the ground beside me, a laser actually singed my parka and I realized I was completely cut off, that I had no other choice but to run the gauntlet myself. I set off toward the hole in the fence as fast as this old hulk of a body could carry me, praying the growlers were sufficiently distracted by dismembering the guy and their pursuit of Ray to worry about me.

Ray'd just about made it to the fence, in fact, I thought he'd gone through, that he'd escaped, but as I got closer, I saw he'd checked, that he was spinning around, lining up those cannons again. He hit
a couple of growlers, but they were immediately replaced by others and soon I saw the flash of a laser and realized he'd pulled out his hand weapon and was firing that as well.

I blundered past what remained of Van's sidekick, praying I wouldn't attract the attention of the growlers, but two of them immediately broke away and started to give chase. Jesus, they were fast! I tell ya, it was like having an express train after you.

One of Ray's pocket missiles swept by only feet away—I didn't know whether he was trying to hit the growlers or me. I couldn't understand why he hadn't kept going when he'd reached the fence—surely he hadn't stayed to save me? Up ahead, I could see him clearer now, maneuvering his chair left and right, lining himself up for another shot.

I turned around and blasted one of the two pursuing growlers, blowing its head right off. It stopped dead, there in the middle of the lawn, one foot raised, like some bizarre sculpture. I also managed to shoot a leg off the other one, but you know, Jimmy was right: it just checked for a moment as if reprogramming itself, then continued after me on three limbs. Worse still, behind it, I could see more of the group that had obliterated Van's sidekick leave his remains and join the chase.

The three-legged growler was rapidly gaining. I took another shot at it, and again, desperately trying to keep it at bay . . . and then—Jesus, I almost screamed out in fear!—my laser died on me.

Even in that moment, I knew why: Ray had given me a laser with an almost empty power-pack so that, when the operation was over and the time came, it'd be that much easier to kill me.

Instantly my three-legged pursuer lengthened its pneumatic stride and was at my side. I tried to kick the damn thing, but it dodged me with ease; I made what I thought was a sudden swerve, but it barely hesitated. What the hell could I do? Its huge jaws started to open in a deathly smile revealing four rows of fearsome teeth—and yet when it went to bite me, to tear into one of my legs, its mouth wouldn't open enough and it just kind of nudged me. It tried again, but with the same result. Obviously there was a malfunction
somewhere—maybe it'd been damaged by laser-fire? Whatever the explanation, I couldn't tell you how grateful I was for the occasional frailties of technology.

Despite the growler still occasionally digging at my leg, I finally managed to reach the fence as a little wild laser-fire resumed from the main building, I guessed ‘cuz they couldn't see that well and didn't want to take any chances. Ray was reversing back and forth, the wheelchair's engine screaming, and finally I realized what'd happened. He hadn't been covering my retreat; the wires from the broken fence had got tangled up in his wheels.

Don't ask me why, but I went to free him.

“Fuck off!” he shouted.

“I'm trying to help!”

I guess he saw it was true 'cuz he shut up, but he was clearly still as mad as hell at me.

I wrenched at the wire, twisting it this way and that and doing my best to tug it free, but all his to-ing and fro-ing had really got it tangled.

“
Come on!
” he screamed, peering over my shoulder.

I glanced behind me to see half a dozen or more growlers bearing down upon us, all gnashing and snarling, obviously having nothing wrong with
their
jaws. I turned back to Ray and out of sheer desperation tried to lift him out of the chair.

“You can't!” he cried, “not with the armor! I'm bolted in!”

You think about those moments, what you'd do in that position, but you never know 'til it happens. I stared into his horror-stricken face, my half-brother, partially my own flesh and blood, knowing he was about to die either alone or accompanied by me, and turned and ran through the fence toward the bushes at the far side of the road.

I
had
tried to save his life, but if I thought that counted for anything, I was wrong, 'cuz I suddenly felt this real thud in my right buttock, like someone had kicked me as hard as they could, and I knew he'd shot me: that his last action in life had been to try to kill me.

I fell to the ground but I guess he must've known I wasn't dead 'cuz he kept on firing, and yet within seconds all that pneumatic
clank-clank
, the growling and howling, converged behind me and there followed the kinda high-pitched scream I would never have associated with Ray.

They were all over him, tearing at his body in a frenzy of flashing teeth and snapping jaws. I tried to struggle up, knowing I'd be next, but I was in too much pain to do more than wriggle a few inches, then an inch or two more, the noises behind me—the crunching of bones, the ripping of flesh—spurring me on. Yet suddenly I heard a noise unlike any I'd ever heard before: it was like a giant balloon popping underwater, or a hugely overweight jumper smacking against the sidewalk. I knew immediately what it was: the growlers had bitten through those swollen legs of Ray's and the damn things had exploded.

I drove myself forward another few inches, pivoting on my elbows, straining with every muscle, but it was hopeless, as soon as they'd finished with Ray they'd be over for me.

Again I glanced over my shoulder. Jesus, you've never seen so much blood—the whole surrounding area was awash with the stuff, and it was dripping off everything. The growlers had ripped through the armor as easily as they had Ray's body and now, their job done, were just standing there and scanning for any other threats to their masters. As one they turned and moved toward me with that familiar slurping pneumatic clank and a renewed chorus of howling, and I scrambled and scratched at the ground, my fingers bleeding, trying to will my damaged body away.

It was the weirdest thing: all of them, a pack of maybe fifteen to twenty, stopped dead the moment they had to cross the fallen fence. They were just standing there, motionless and silent. Had they lost power or something, maybe used up all their emergency reserve? They were facing in my direction, but I couldn't make out if they were still functioning or not.

After a few agonizingly long seconds, as one they just turned around and clanked back in the direction of their burrows.

What the hell . . . ? What happened?
And finally it hit me: they were only programmed for the complex, nothing outside, their world ended with the fence.

Over on the concourse, the Specials stopped firing. I wasn't sure how much they'd seen, but presumably the growlers returning to their lairs had put their minds at rest—though they were bound to send someone out through the gate to check. Before they did, I had to somehow make it to the far side of the road and hide myself.

I don't know how long it took—twenty minutes or so, maybe—but I'd just about managed to roll into the long grass and squirm my way up against a bush when a party of Specials drew up.

They didn't stay long; just did some makeshift repairs to the fence, called maintenance and ordered them to fix it properly in the morning. No one bothered to search for me. I didn't get it—they must've seen me running across the grass—but finally I came to the conclusion that it was Ray: the way his body had exploded, going all over the place like that, they must've assumed it was the remains of two people, not one, that the growlers had got us both. Jeez, and how was that for revenge? I wonder how that venomous old bastard would feel knowing that his last action on this Earth hadn't been to end my life but to save it.

Quite a lot of joking went on: comments about what messy eaters growlers were. Someone got a big laugh after looking at what remained of Ray and his armored wheelchair and quipping that growlers didn't normally like canned food.

Soon they jumped back into their vehicle and returned into the complex, leaving me all alone and utterly at a loss. What the hell was I going to do? Jimmy and the gang wouldn't have the slightest idea where I was or what'd happened. If Infinity showed any footage of the attack—and that was a big “if,” bearing in mind they wouldn't want to admit to their actual headquarters being attacked—they were bound to make a thing of having killed everyone, and in that case, there was every chance I'd never be found, that I was going to die out there of exposure or starvation.

That immediately sent my thoughts winging across the grass to the Infinity building. How close were we, exactly? Had she heard us? Maybe she'd asked someone what was going on and they'd told her Infinity were under attack from terrorists or something . . .

“Lena,” I groaned, “don't you believe them . . . I came to rescue you—!”

Jesus, it was humiliating: helplessly lying in the grass with a laser wound to my ass. If I could've found a branch or something, maybe I might've been able to use it as a crutch and get moving—but I couldn't see a thing in that smoke-curdled darkness and I certainly wasn't up to wandering around searching.

Again my eyes went to the Infinity building. Forget the risk, I couldn't help myself, it just came bursting out: “
Lena!
” I moaned, “
L-e-n-a!
”

I don't know when I passed out exactly, nor for how long, but at some point the sound of hushed voices somewhere nearby woke me. Jeez, I shouldn't have called out like that. Or maybe they'd been studying random camera footage and seen me crawl into the bushes? I heard the thud of nearby footsteps: someone misjudging the terrain in the dark and almost falling, and tried to shrink further under the bush.

There were several of them, that much I could make out, whispering to each other, searching around, getting ever closer. I thanked God they didn't have flashlights, though I knew it could only be a matter of time.

“Definitely someone made it out,” I heard a voice say, maybe finding a few drops of my blood in the grass.

“You sure?” came a female voice.

“They're wounded.”

There was silence for a few moments, then one of them started slowly heading my way, tracking from side to side, maybe picking up on more blood.

“Those things are so fast,” the female voice whispered.

“And he's not,” the first voice commented.

I turned my head, trying to hear clearer. Were they talking about me?

“Not at his age,” the first voice added.

Wait a minute: I knew that voice. “Jimmy!” I whispered.

There was an immediate silence. Obviously I'd frightened the hell out of them. “Jimmy!” I called again.

Finally he got up the nerve to answer. “Big Guy?”

“Over here!” I whispered.

They started to make their way over, hesitantly, like they were a little scared of what they might find.