The Eighth Trumpet (The Jared Kimberlain Novels) (14 page)

Lisa shrank lower to avoid Armagill’s spear, which looked obscenely like a tongue. The creature kept poking at her, trying to lift her slightly with its arms, which were linked to its shoulders by rubberized tubing to promote flexibility. Once more Kimberlain tried to reach her, but Megalon’s spear whipped forward again.

“Help her!” the Ferryman yelled to a trio of men emerging from the auditorium.

The men hesitated only slightly before bolting toward the creature holding Lisa with its back to them. Their path brought them by the Neutron replica standing on the other side of the hall. They never saw the gun barrel extended beneath its empty eyes begin to rotate and the bullets start to spew outward.

The screams were awful, and the rapid bursts continued well after they had stopped. Blood splattered against the wall; some reached Kimberlain and still more splashed against Lisa as she cowered in Armagill’s death grip.

Neutron rotated his barrel toward the doorway the men had emerged from and fired a spray to discourage further attempts. Motion again, Kimberlain realized, it had to be. The specifics of the program eluded him, but it was obvious that each of the replicas’ computer chip brains had been programmed to initiate a specific assault when a certain set of conditions was met. If he could make those conditions work for him, maybe, just maybe …

Lisa was losing the fight against Armagill. Its razor-sharp spear lowered toward her throat. An alarm bell had begun to screech. Obviously the gunfire had alerted security to the battle going on. But where were they? What was taking them so long to respond?

Kimberlain readied himself to move toward Lisa, avoiding consideration of the risks. He let go of Megalon’s pincers and the figure whirled on its base and jabbed at him with its spear. The Ferryman spun sideways and the spear dug straight into the wall. As the creature yanked its weapon free, he ducked low under the motion. In that instant, Neutron’s electric eye could not distinguish his motion from that of Megalon’s when it started to roll on its base toward him. Neutron started firing again, with Megalon directly in the path of its bullets and Kimberlain hugging the floor beneath the line of fire. The bullets carved jagged lines into Megalon’s head and torso, making it twist and turn crazily. It spun on its base and snapped its pincers together as if in desperation.

Armagill’s programming must have lacked the capability to perform two operations at once, because it never wavered from its attention to Lisa while Kimberlain tore the fire ax down from the wall not far from it. His first strike obliterated the top of its head just as its spear was about to graze Lisa’s flesh. His second blow shattered the creature’s torso, wedging tight into rubber and plastic and metal.

“Stay down!” Kimberlain yelled to Lisa as Neutron whirled toward them, their motion having drawn its attention. “Stay still!” He dove and rolled across the hall to draw the creature’s attention from Lisa.

The bullets came mechanically, like the tracer fire in the deadly obstacle courses he had been trained in. It was a simple matter to stay ahead of until he ran out of room, moving down the corridor beyond the entrance to the auditorium to ensure that the bullets would hit only the walls. The other key for him was to time his circle rush past Neutron in a way that would close the gap faster than the creature was capable of adjusting its aim. He counted the seconds, basing his strategy on the fact that the first two bursts had both lasted just under five seconds—probably the limit for each clip stored somewhere in the creature’s innards.

The bullets stopped as quickly as they had started. Neutron whirled its torso about, believing itself to be still firing. Kimberlain rushed by close enough to get a mouthful of bitter cordite and pulled Lisa to her feet. They had seconds more at best to flee down the corridor to the steel security fence. The piercing alarm continued to wail as they picked up speed, but still there was no sign of help from the guards. And when Kimberlain led Lisa around the corner of the hall he saw why.

The electronic gate had somehow been sealed, and security personnel were working frantically to get it open. Two men were slicing a hole in the steel links with bolt cutters, and as Kimberlain and Lisa started their charge down the remaining thirty yards a thin guard managed to slither through brandishing a shotgun. He was just getting to his feet when Kimberlain heard the now familiar grind behind him and shouted a warning to the guard. He took Lisa with him to the floor just as Neutron’s wheelbase cleared the corner and it began firing.

The security guard had just steadied himself when the bullets tore into him and catapulted him backward into the fence. The motion of his fellows drew all of Neutron’s fire, and it continued to spray bullets, killing or maiming a half-dozen men on the other side of the fence. Their screams rose above the wail of the alarm. The vibrations turned the last of Neutron’s fire toward the ceiling. Electric wires and conduits, coughing sparks and smoke, dropped down like tentacles and touched the steel links. The electronic gate sizzled.

The guard who’d made it through the hole in the fence had lost his shotgun when Neutron’s burst cut into him, and it had slid across the floor. As Kimberlain maneuvered close to it, Neutron spun toward his motion. He was prone while he brought it up, looking into the dark face of his own death when he fired, pumped, and fired again. Neutron’s head was mostly gone by the second shot, and the third obliterated the rest and took the gun barrel along with it. The giant toy was still struggling to rotate as it crashed to the floor.

Kimberlain discarded the shotgun and climbed back to his feet, then moved to help Lisa. She was shaking again, and he wrapped his arm tight around her shoulder for comfort. As they approached the gate, Kimberlain saw the dangling live wires that had electrified it and understood why the surviving guards were keeping their distance. It would probably be several minutes before all power in the building could be shut down to allow them to pass through safely.

“Somebody cut off that damn alarm!” the guard closest to them ordered. Neutron’s bullets had reduced the sound to a dull clicking, but it kept up. In the next moment the guard’s eyes filled with terror. “Oh my Jesus …”

Kimberlain swung to follow the man’s stare. Megalon, torso punctured and splintered, was coming forward down the last stretch of the corridor. Its motions were jerky and spasmodic, and a grating sound indicated that one of its base wheels had seized tight. But its pincers were still operative, as was the spear extension which was swiping back and forth even now.

The Ferryman had no time to do anything but lunge in front of Lisa, who had drawn as close to the electrified fence as she dared. He locked one hand on the thing’s pincers and the second on the metallic arm where the spear began its extension. Megalon spun to better its position, and they grappled like wrestlers feeling each other out at the start of a match.

From the corner of his eye, Kimberlain saw a guard steady a rifle and readied to duck.

“Now!” he screamed, and the man fired.

Most of Megalon’s head exploded, but its appendages still gripped the Ferryman. As if clinging to its twisted life, the creature turned so that Kimberlain was between him and the guards. When the Ferryman had ducked, it had allowed the thing’s pincers to close on his wrist, and now Megalon began to squeeze. What with the monster’s superior position, it was all Kimberlain could do to hold the spear extension back with his single available hand.

“
Shoot! Shoot!
” he called to the guards, but no one trusted his aim enough to chance it.

His eyes recorded motion as Lisa threw herself at him, swinging the shotgun around, with the butt coming hard and fast. It connected squarely against what remained of Megalon’s head. She drew it back for another strike.

Megalon turned sluggishly while maintaining its hold on Kimberlain. It lashed out at Lisa with its spear, and the Ferryman used that to his advantage by suddenly pulling free of the thing’s pincers. Megalon lashed out at Lisa again but missed by even more. This time the motion placed too much pressure on its jammed wheel, and its balance wavered long enough for Kimberlain to grasp the pincers as they spasmodically snapped open and closed. What remained of Megalon’s head turned back toward him, but it was too late. The Ferryman yanked the pincers over him and up toward the fence as he pulled and shoved the thing forward. Steel met steel, and smoke and sparks began pouring from the many punctures in Megalon’s body as Kimberlain rolled free.

“Fry, you son of a bitch!” he called up to what remained of the life-size POW! robot.

Kimberlain reached David Kamanski minutes after the guards had finally managed to cut the power and work the gate open. Dried blood and sweat covered his clothes and flesh.

“Jared, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for—”

“I’ve been busy, David. Lots of people are dead down here. It’s right up your alley.”

“Is Lisa Eiseman one—”

“No, she’s alive, but not by much. The weapon was murderous toy soldiers this time. Our boy just keeps getting better. This was beyond even Lime’s murder, way beyond.”

Kamanski sighed. “Exactly why I’ve been trying to reach you. Your friend Captain Seven claims our mystery up here’s been solved.”

Chapter 13

IT WAS THURSDAY AFTERNOON,
and Danielle sat waiting. Waiting was nothing new to her; she had spent much of her life doing just that and had somehow never grown used to it.

Before leaving Washington the day before, she had used a false identity card to gain access to the computer terminals at the National Registry. As a key national processing center, it contained virtually all pertinent information relating to every sphere of governmental budget, but it was available only to those with the proper access codes. She had managed quite easily to patch into Def-Net, the Defense Department’s data base, and request a call-up on Spiderweb. A few seconds of nothing followed, then:

ACCESS DENIED. MESSAGE TERMINATED
.

Danielle tried a different access code and waited.

ACCESS DENIED. MESSAGE TERMINATED
.

She wasn’t surprised. Spiderweb must lie under an
ULTSEC
seal that would deny access to the file to anyone not specifically cleared to see it. This closed the front door for her but left the slightest of cracks in the back one. She typed in an emergency outreach code designed to bring up a list of those who were cleared to view the Spiderweb file. Her plan was to obtain the information she sought from a man now instead of a machine, providing that all those listed weren’t too high up in the government and thus too risky to approach.

At last the screen began displaying names, one per line. The first four were totally expected and not accessible. The fifth was …

JAMES ROBERT STANTON STONE
.

What in hell was
he
doing on this list?

She checked her watch. She’d been on line too long already. If her invasion had been noted, Defense Department authorities might already be on their way. She rose cautiously and moved to the elevator. Back outside in the cool fall sun, she turned her thoughts to the fifth name. James Robert Stanton Stone was one of the richest men in the world, thanks mostly to oil. Somehow he was connected to Spiderweb, which was connected to the stolen plans for a Jupiter-class super-Trident submarine. Her next move was clear: she had to learn what she needed to from Stone.

Toward that end, she now found herself waiting in a Fort Worth, Texas, parking garage for his expected arrival. Seconds, minutes, hours; as always they had already become indistinguishable from one another. Patience was the key. But patience allowed time to think, and thinking meant remembering, which was where the real pain lay.

She had been fifteen when the games in the wooded compound the men had brought her to began to grow more complex. The number of children remaining had shrunk drastically, to barely more than a dozen. Danielle had a room to herself now. She was comfortable being a loner and preferred her own company to that of others. She had started to notice the lingering stares the boys in the compound were giving her, especially an inseparable pair she knew as Jack and Jules and whom she did her best to avoid.

One night she was sent into the woods on what the instructors told her was the first step of survival training. She went in with no weapons and skimpy clothes which exposed her to the elements. She was to see how well she could transfer practiced skills into a real arena. Danielle accepted the task with the same commitment with which she approached everything else.

Dawn was streaking the sky when she heard a rustling on the path behind her. Sleep had refused to come all night, and, ravenous, she was on her way to the stream to catch a fish for breakfast. Now all her hunger pangs vanished. She was being stalked, and she knew it. First she had to get off the path and find cover. Then she would need a weapon.

She had started off the path when her foot lodged in a soft patch in the ground. She realized what was happening but leaped too late. The noose tightened around her ankle, she was hoisted feet-first into the air, and she dangled there above the ground. She fought to kick free and her head slammed into the huge tree supporting her. Dazed now, she felt the warm spill of blood on her scalp and swiped at the wound. Her fingers came away sticky with blood. She struggled to steady herself. Then her ears caught the rustling sounds more clearly, and from her upside-down position she recognized Jules and Jack proudly prancing toward her down the path.

So it was a game and they had won. Fine.

“Cut me down, you bastards!” she yelled, still swaying.

“Gag her,” Jack, the taller boy, ordered.

“You gag her,” returned Jules obstinately. He was almost feminine-looking, with long hair that hung down past his shoulders.

Jack cast a mean stare Jules’s way but yanked a filthy bandanna from his pocket and started forward. When he was almost upon her, Danielle altered her swinging to be able to flail at him with her arms. Several of the blows connected. Jack backed off. Jules giggled sheepishly.