Robinson Crusoe 2244 (22 page)

“They came from the same direction as the flyer flew. Come on.”

As they continued down the road, they passed a faded sign on the ground that read: PENTAGON - 2 MILES.

True to its name, the pentagon had five sides of equal dimensions. It was a squat, gray building of four or five stories with small windows and heavy fortifications. Friday looked at Robinson and saw they were thinking the same thing: it’ll be very dark inside.

There was no sign of the flyer as they drew near. They decided to circle the building to check the other entrances, but the building was secure. They weren’t even sure if this was where the cracks had come from or where the flyer had gone, but something told Robinson it was an important piece of the puzzle.

After three quarters of a turn, they returned to the front of the structure where two large doors of glass stood atop a portico. The sun probed only a few meters within.

Friday said, “I am not wanting to go inside, Crusoe. I have—how do you say?”

“A bad feeling.”

“Or two.”

“Lucky for you, I have these.” He pulled out his tomahawks and grinned.

She rolled her eyes and set her bow and quiver of arrows behind a tree. She then twirled her staff and signaled for him to go ahead.

“Ladies first.”

She cracked him across the leg.

“I no lady.”

“After last night, we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

She cracked him again and he busted out laughing.

“Okay, okay,” he said and opened the door. “As her Highness commands.”

The stench that first hit them confirmed their worst fears. Renders were here.

The initial corridor was decently lit and many faded photos hung on the walls. In one, Robinson saw an aerial photo of the Pentagon itself and it revealed that the interior of the building was once a courtyard. He pointed it out to Friday.

A slew of ancient equipment sat toppled over in the lobby, gathering dust. On the floor were the blackened remnants of this continent’s flag, its once red, white, and blue colors faded and eaten by moths.

Thankfully, the corridor was wide, but the farther they strode from the doors, the more the darkness consumed. Scant light poured in through the windows in the offices on both sides, but there were more than enough shadows to keep their senses tingling.

They moved cautiously and silently. They had become an efficient team, well versed in communicating by the subtlest of movements. Many of the offices they looked in had been ransacked. Desks were overturned, books torn apart. Here and there they saw claw marks but more often, the rifling looked organized.

In an interior office, Robinson looked out the window into the central courtyard. The park-like grounds that once existed were now overrun with plant life. Ivy covered most of the walls and trees. High grass obscured the rest of the view. Only one narrow angle afforded him a glimpse of what he’d been searching for.

The flyer was there.

Robinson nodded to Friday and they continued down the hall. He was looking for an entrance to the courtyard when another series of cracks rang out. Both Friday and he hit the ground.

“Does that sound close?”

“I cannot tell.”

They waited until they were sure they were in no immediate danger before they got up and continued down the hall. Eventually, they reached an intersection where a doorway led to the courtyard. Unfortunately, a structural collapse blocked the way. They continued down the next hallway where the stench of renders grew more pungent. Friday touched her nose and Robinson nodded. They moved even slower.

Somewhere inside they heard a shout and then laughter. Part of Robinson wanted to rush forward, yelling for his father, but he knew it would be foolhardy. If such an act didn’t draw an attack from renders, it would surely draw one from Friday, who always chose caution first. Still, Robinson believed in his heart that his people were here looking for him and were most likely going room-by-room searching for evidence of his survival.

At the end of the hall appeared a set of steel doors with the words “TOP SECRET CLEARANCE ONLY” written across them. One door was slightly ajar, so they peeled it back and peered inside. The smell hit Robinson like a punch. Friday motioned for him to pull back, but they both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Robinson’s palms were moist and sweat ran down the middle of his back, soaking his shirt. As he opened the doors, a loud creak echoed down the hall. Friday’s focus reminded him to measure his breathing and take slow steps on the balls of his feet while always maintaining a good center of balance.

To their right was an open door with something on the floor. Robinson bent down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands before raising it to his nose.

“What is it?” Friday whispered.

“Barley bread from Reg5. My favorite.”

He felt giddy and nervous as he entered the room, first checking behind the door as he’d been taught. It was a basic room, filled with one upturned desk in the corner and a series of large, metallic cabinets lining the walls. On the floor in front of the cabinets were a few wooden crates with “GRAIN – REG6, Township Shir’ton” stenciled on them.

Robinson realized someone from Isle Prime had been in this very room.

Friday signaled that she would wait outside while he looked around. Robinson waded through the open files that were strewn across the floor but could make nothing out. One cabinet stood open with a number of files removed. The file index read: Security Protocol: Omega 4 / FENIX 1.2.1. / Satellite Imagery [ASIA].

He didn’t understand what he was seeing but knew it was important.

“Friday? You’re not going to believe this, but someone from back home—”

He stepped out into the hallway only to find her gone.

“Friday?”

A wave of nerves crept up Robinson’s spine. He pulled out his tomahawks and scanned the hall. The metal doors to his left remained closed. To his right, the hallway plunged into darkness. He was about to call out again but knew Friday would disapprove. So he walked forward slowly instead, even as the smell of renders grew stronger. The first two rooms were empty. But at the end of the hall, he saw an open door with two rectangular, blacked out windows. He gave the door a wide berth before looking inside.

Friday was standing just within the threshold, deep in shadow. Her sword was out and ready, but she wasn’t moving. Something had spooked her and now it was spooking Robinson. He blew air through his teeth to get her attention. Her eyes flashed to him and then all hell broke loose.

The creature, a render of impossible size, sprang out of the shadows, roaring straight at Friday. She raised her sword but had no time to wield it. The beast howled as it swung its enormous arm, slamming into a bookcase that Friday had to dive to avoid. The bookcase hit the door a fraction of a second before Robinson did, slamming it closed. He rammed it as hard as he could, but it would not give.

The next mighty roar was followed by Friday’s call as she was batted into the rectangular windows, bringing their shades down. The render slapped the equipment on the center table and ripped a curtain covering the interior windows, giving the room a modicum of light. Robinson watched Friday drop hard to the floor, only to rise as the behemoth stormed her again.

He screamed her name at the top of his lungs as his tomahawks hit the door over and over. It failed to give. A security mesh ran inside the glass, so the windows couldn’t be broken either. Inside, Robinson saw Friday duck a blow and slice the render across the hamstring. It stumbled back. He thought that would give her the time she needed to finish him off. Then the second render appeared, boxing her in.

“BEHIND YOU!” Robinson screamed.

Friday spun just as the smaller render attacked. This one was quicker and Friday had to barrel roll across the center table to escape it. Robinson looked around for another entrance. He found one in an adjacent office, but the windowed door was also locked.

His heart was thundering in his chest. He knew Friday could handle a single render, even two, but not in such an enclosed space. When one of the creatures slammed a chair into the wall, dust and debris rained down from above. He looked up at the ceiling planks, which were chipped and cracked.

As the renders circled the table, Friday went on the attack. She went after the big one first. The creature raised its arm and her blade sunk into its flesh. Trouble was, when Friday tried to remove it, the creature yanked her around and slung her across the room. She slammed into the far wall and slid to the floor, dazed.

The smaller render was moving toward Friday when Robinson tumbled through the ceiling and landed on top of the big render, wrapping his arm around its throat. It gasped and the smaller render ran to its defense. Robinson reached for his tomahawk, but the big render slammed him back against the wall, pressing him until his chest felt like it would implode. It had him pinned and was waiting for his companion. Robinson felt the creature start to slacken and knew it was seconds away from passing out. But he didn’t have seconds. So he dug fingers into both its eyes. When the big render’s arms came up, Robinson slammed the pommel of Friday’s blade into its arms. It slid through the larger render’s forearm, straight into the brain of the smaller one.

The big render howled as its companion toppled to the floor, dead. It leaned forward to slam Robinson against the wall again, but he rolled off. The beast was blind, and it started thrashing everything in sight. Robinson was scrambling across the floor when Friday gasped for air.

The instant the creature’s head turned, Robinson knew Friday was in serious trouble. The beast had pinpointed an easy target. Just as it was about to rush her, Robinson screamed.

“No! It’s me you want! Me!”

The creature roared and they ran at the same time. It must have weighed four hundred pounds. When it leaped, it filled his vision. But Robinson was already sailing through the air, tomahawk raised high. They hit each other with a staggering impact. Robinson was blown back under its weight. He fell to the floor with the creature’s mass landing on top of him. Every molecule of air he had in him exploded from his chest and the room went completely dark.

Robinson felt something hot and sticky running down his chest and neck. He was about to die. It almost felt peaceful. Then the render’s body rolled off him and a shadow filled his vision. It slowly took shape and focus. It was smiling.

“Are you okay?” Robinson asked, reaching up for Friday’s face.

She nodded and then touched his wet chest.

“It’s not mine,” he said. He looked to the render and found his tomahawk buried in its brain. His nostrils flared a moment longer and then stopped.

“Did it infect you?”

Friday shook her head and asked after him. He shook his head too. He was so relieved his lip trembled. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Her hand came up slowly and cuffed him gently on the cheek. He grinned.

“Sorry. It’s the adrenaline talking. Can you sit up?”

She nodded and he helped her up.

“We must go. Your people …”

“Will wait. That’s if they aren’t already coming. We made enough noise to raise the dead.”

“You mean your screaming like baby?”

“I could have sworn I heard you scream.”

“That was war cry,” she said. “There’s a difference.”

Robinson grinned and went to clear the door.

“Wait,” Friday said. “First, look.” She nodded to an upturned desk. Robinson cautiously walked around it. Writhing in a nest of fabric were two squirming heaps of flesh. He saw eyes, legs, hands, and feet, but they were not human. They were renders. Render infants.

“They breed,” he said, surprised.

Friday nodded. “It was thought to be.”

That led to a more sobering realization. They had killed their parents—parents who were only defending their young.

“What should we do?”

Her look said everything.

“Okay, I’ll handle it.”