To Kill A Droid Page 15

  “If we really wanted to make a statement, if we really wanted to hurt the people responsible for our pain, shouldn't we be attacking Kelypso's Tower or the police station?”

  Buck explained, “I wish we could attack Kelypso, but her tower is built like a fortress. It would be impossible to penetrate her defenses with our current resources. As for the police station, we considered it. Like I said, though, we don't want to attack innocent beat cops. We want to target the death squads, the police androids, and your boss – that's all. To do so, I believe this is our best plan.”

  “Are... Are you sure about this?”

  “I'm positive. You should be asking yourself that same question, though. When we pass through the border, there will be no turning back. You understand that, don't you?”

  Nicholas stared down at his lap, unnerved by the statement and the question. He stared out the windshield as the bus trudged down the road, following the crepitating engines of the escort vehicles. The group would arrive at the border soon. He glanced around his poor environment. He was saddened to see the homeless people and deviants huddling around the controlled fires to survive the cold.

  Accepting the terms, Nicholas asked, “How are we going to do this?”

  Buck said, “We're going to ram our way through the border and head towards Cedar Tower. While our escorts distract the police, we're going to drive into the underground parking lot of the tower. You'll hop out with the decoy and rush into the building. We'll lead them towards a neighboring tower while you head up. I have to be close by to detonate the bomb.”

  “Is that all? Really?”

  “Yes. You just make sure you get to the top floors of the building, then make the call. We'll handle the rest,” Buck explained. As he stared out the window, pensive, the tormented leader said, “Thank you for your service, Nicholas. I hope you understand what this means to the people of the south and to the poor people and deviants of the world. Thank you.”

  Nicholas examined the mood of the bus. The group was scared and nervous – and rightfully so. The odds of survival were low for the resistance fighters. However, their beliefs did not falter. They were prepared to die for the revolution. Although his mind was pestered by doubt, Nicholas was happy to join them in their mission.

  “Brace yourselves!” Buck shouted as he leaned forward and shielded the infant with his body.

  Nicholas snapped out of his peaceful trance, hurled into an urban war zone. He tightly gripped the rail in front of him with his reinforced arm, then he glanced out the window to his right. A sedan and a motorcycle drove beside the bus, allowing the large vehicle to take the lead. He could see Lynn reloading a rifle inside of the car. Her movements were unusually majestic.

  For a brief moment, time slowed to a crawl. The coughing engines, the squealing wheels, and the shouting on the street became distorted. Despite the chaos on the road, peace and harmony reigned supreme.

  Nicholas was flung forward as the bus bulldozed through two armored trucks at the makeshift border. The truck on the left was pushed to the side until it rolled onto the sidewalk. The other truck was knocked on its side by the powerful impact. The truck skidded across the pavement. The crash caused the pedestrians and police to scatter like cockroaches shocked by a blinding light.

  The bus hurtled down the desolate street at a breakneck speed. The roaring of the engines and the blaring horns solely warned the wandering pedestrians of the imminent revolution. The convoy drove half-a-mile down the street, zooming past the border apartment buildings, then they took a right turn onto Main Street – a street with eight wide lanes.

  The resistance had finally arrived in the north.

  Chapter Twenty

  Carnage Road

  Nicholas leaned closer to the window and examined the city. The smoggy north did not change since he departed days ago. The streets were still congested with bumper-to-bumper traffic. The sidewalks were swamped with haughty people. And, the sky was still obscured by the hovercars. Despite the carnage in the south, the north remained stagnant.

  As the epiphany dawned onto him, Nicholas whispered, “If they won't listen to our pain, then we must scream louder...”

  Red-and-blue lights illuminated the filth on the street. Shrill police sirens echoed through the road, reverberating through the city. Police cruisers and armored trucks swerved and dodged the traffic in pursuit of the resistance fighters. Military drones soared above the convoy, humming like a swarm of angry bees.

  Buck patted Ripley's shoulder and said, “We have their attention. Get us to Cedar Tower by any means necessary.” Ripley grunted and nodded as he put the pedal to the metal. Staring down at the infant, Buck connected to the resistance's radio network and said, “Doris, Lynn... Keep them off our tail. We'll see you on the other side.”

  Nicholas was also connected to the resistance's radio frequency, but he did not hear a response. The deviants were ready to sacrifice themselves without any final words. Their decisions were set in stone.

  Nicholas asked, “What should I do?”

  Buck responded, “Get to the back of the bus and give them support.” He glanced over his shoulder and shouted, “Destroy their vehicles, shoot their drones out of the sky, and keep the revolution alive!”

  In perfect harmony, the resistance fighters shouted, “Yes, sir!”

  Nicholas watched the resistance soldiers open the windows. Like a sniper in the grass, their rifle barrels protruded from the cage partitions. The men aimed at the pursuing police cruisers and trucks, trying to deter them with suppressive fire. Due to their advance accuracy, the deviants targeted the drones. Indeed, the resistance fighters were prepared.

  The police android stood from his seat, determined to help the escort vehicles – determined to aid Lynn. He lurched towards the back as the bus drove over the center divider. The congested traffic was shoved aside by the bulldozer blade. Civilians were surely injured by the destruction, but the damage was necessary. The revolution could not be halted by traffic.

  He regained his footing as he reached the emergency door at the back of the bus. He broke the window on the door with the butt of his gun. His eyes widened with fear as he stared out the opening. The street was filled with police vehicles as far as the eye could see. Dozens of police cruisers, trucks, and motorcycles followed the yellow bus. The skies were also covered by two police helicopters and a dozen drones.

  Nicholas said, “Shit...” He winced as a bullet struck the door. He glanced at the pursuing cars and whispered, “Which one is shooting? Which one... Which one do I shoot?”

  Certainty was nonexistent. Like a turtle protruding her head from her shell, Doris peeked out of the sunroof of her sedan. She was struck by three rounds, all of them hitting her chest, but the low-caliber rounds did not damage her. She emerged from the vehicle with a glass bottle in her hand. A white rag was shoved into the bottle – a molotov cocktail.

  She ignited the wick, then she hurled the molotov at a pursuing police cruiser. The cruiser was swallowed by the flames in an instant. The fire blocked the windshield and seeped into the interior of the car. The vehicle swerved every which way as the officers panicked and burned. The cruiser unintentionally crashed into an armored truck, spreading the flames across the entire street.

  Retaliation required equal or greater force – and the police were happy to deliver. One of the escort motorcycles was struck by a rocket from above. The deviant shooter and the human driver were dismembered and killed by the explosion. Before the resistance had the opportunity to retaliate, the other escort bike was obliterated by another rocket. A third rocket struck a civilian truck, missing Doris' sedan by a few meters.

  Nicholas furrowed his brow as he analyzed the battlefield. Most of the police cruisers slowed and swerved, making room in the decimated street. Four beige military hummers emerged from behind the armored trucks. Miniaturized railguns and laser cannons were mounted on top of the hummers. The weaponry was advanced, only used in military operations overseas.
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  Nicholas glanced over his shoulder and shouted, “Buck, we have trouble!”

  ***

  Buck held the mewling baby close to his chest as he stared towards the back of the bus. From afar, he could see the hummers. He glanced at the ceiling of the bus – the drones were also worrisome. Chaos surrounded him, pessimism poisoned him, but revolution inspired him.

  The fearless leader connected to the resistance's radio frequency and said, “Doris, I need a flying wedge behind us.” He stared out the windshield, glancing at the two remaining bikers ahead – Devon and Clyde. Buck said, “Devon, Clyde, get these damn drones off of us before they sink the ship.”

  Buck glanced back at Nicholas and nodded – everything will be okay. Nicholas reluctantly returned the nod. He watched as three sedans formed a triangle behind the bus – a flying wedge. The formation was commonly used in sports and during riots, but it worked well for the resistance. The reinforced vehicles effectively blocked all of the open lanes of traffic, stopping the hummers from reaching the bus.

  Nicholas stood on his tiptoes as he stared at the front of the bus. The roaring engines of the two remaining bikes reverberated over the gunfire. The bikes sped ahead, splintering away from the convoy. The bikers split ways at an intersection. As planned, the pesky drones followed the bikes. The drones were the only units agile enough to keep pace with the motorcycles.

  Buck's strategy was effective in temporarily deterring the enemy forces. However, his plan was not foolproof.

  As he walked towards the front of the bus, examining the dead men sprawled on the seats, Nicholas whispered, “We're almost there. A few more blocks, a few more miles. Keep fighting, keep living. The revo–”

  Nicholas paused and stopped in his track. He could see the look of fear in Buck's face – an air of fear he had only ever seen on a human face. The leader stared at the ceiling of the bus, bewildered and terrified.

  Buck glanced at Nicholas and said, “Prepare yourself.”

  Nicholas tilted his head and asked, “What is it?”

  “The choppers.”

  The drones followed the motorcycles, but the helicopters continued to hover over the convoy. The propellers were loud, but the officers were quiet. The group was not attacked with high-caliber bullets and rockets from the sky. No, the police force had a different idea.

  Nicholas did not have the opportunity to strategize. He couldn't place himself in his old shoes, he couldn't predict the enemy's plan. The bus jounced and swerved. The sound of clicking and clanking emerged above them.

  Nicholas glanced at the ceiling and whispered, “What is that?” He walked down the aisle as he examined the ceiling, heedlessly bumping into the surviving resistance fighters. He murmured, “Are they trying to board us? Are they–”

  Eight steel claws penetrated the roof of the bus. An autohound tore through the ceiling like a dog trying to bury his bone. The shrill sound of shredding metal was unnerving to the droids, like nails on a chalkboard. The autohound created a gaping hole on the roof, then it jumped into the bus.

  Nicholas lurched towards the front of the bus. He pushed Buck and the infant down the stairs near the front door, then he turned towards the robot hound. He was ready to sacrifice himself for the revolution. At heart, his protocols also forced him to protect the human infant. The deviance had not infected his entire system.

  As he glared at the autohound, Nicholas said, “You can't have her. You can't hurt her. You can't hurt us anymore.”

  The remaining resistance fighters shot at the autohound, unloading their clips as quickly as possible. The hound was nimble, though. It jumped onto a neighboring seat, dodging most of the gunfire. With the barrel mounted on its tail, it fired two rounds at the remaining humans – both rounds hit their foreheads at the center.

  The autohound leaped over four rows of seats. It pounced on a deviant android near the front door. It clawed into the droid's chest with its sickle-shaped claws. With its powerful jaw, the hound mauled the android's throat. The resistance fighter tried to shoot, but he was quickly neutralized. His mind was disconnected from the rest of his body.

  Nicholas fired eight rounds into the hound's head, but to no avail. The autohound pounced on him, causing the droid to tumble to the floor. The police android wrestled with the mechanical hound. The robot dog chomped at his face and throat, missing by an inch with each bite. The hound was intelligent, though. It fired a high-caliber round from its mouth cannon. The bullet tore through Nicholas' ear and the floor.

  Crouching beside the door, Buck watched the fight with wide eyes. He held the crying infant in his left hand and a .50cal revolver in his right. He aimed the firearm at the hound, but he could not find a clear shot. His arm shuddered, the bus trembled, and the fight was frantic. If he missed, he would either hit Nicholas or Ripley. The risk was too high.

  With his eyes on the road, Ripley shouted, “Kill that damn dog! We're almost there!” Nicholas squirmed and struggled, playing defense instead of offense. The bus driver barked, “Use the arm, boy!”

  The light bulb finally illuminated above the android's dome – the arm, of course! Nicholas gritted his teeth as he grabbed the hound's chomping jaw with his right arm – his advanced limb. He grunted and groaned as he tugged on its jaw with all of his might. The joints and steel crepitated due to the sheer force until the hound's jaw was broken. The hound twitched and squirmed as it tried to adjust to the situation, but it could not escape the droid's clutches.

  As he punched through the hound's head, Nicholas shouted, “You can't hurt us anymore!”

  The destroyed autohound fell to its side, limp and lifeless. Buck stared at the autohound with despondent eyes, ashamed of his failure to act. However, the deviant android was prepared to lead. He glanced at the military hound, then towards a black bag under the driver's seat.

  Buck said, “Grab the hound and toss him on the seat. I have an idea.”

  Hesitant, Nicholas stared into Buck's eyes. He glanced at the baby, then towards the bag under the seat. He wasn't aware of the contents in the bag, but he had an idea – a weapon of some sort. Destruction was certain. He could only nod in agreement, prepared to march through the gates of hell with the resistance.

  ***

  Nicholas tossed the autohound on the seat behind Ripley. Like a case of drugs during a deal, Buck casually passed the infant to Nicholas. The leader unzipped the bag, revealing several pounds of plastic explosives – C-4. The bricks of explosive material were attached to a belt. Indeed, the resistance often used devious methods inspired by past terrorist attacks.

  The truth was unfortunate.

  As he cradled the baby in his arms, Nicholas asked, “Were... Were you planning on detonating yourself? Huh? Were you willing to kill innocent people for your cause?”

  As he carefully wrapped the explosives around the autohound's torso, Buck responded, “If you're referring to suicide bombings: yes, we have conducted those attacks before. We did not plan on it for this operation. This C-4 was reserved for emergencies like this.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “You're going to toss this autohound at one of those helicopters and I'm going to detonate these explosives.”

  “I... I can't do that. I don't know if they're innocent. I don't know if they have families. Why can't you do this? Why must you force me to claim more lives?”

  Buck lifted the robot carcass from the seat and said, “You have the good arm, Nicholas. We must stop them before they stop us. Please, help us complete our mission.” He glanced at the baby and said, “Help this innocent child see an innocent future.”

  Children did not have the opportunity to shape the future. The future was generally molded by adults – specifically, adults with power and wealth. The adults at the bottom of the hierarchy either had to watch the world burn or fight to extinguish the flames.

  The police android opted for the latter.

  Nicholas accepted the explosive carcass and returned the baby to Buck. H
e marched towards the center of the bus as machine gun bullets tore through the roof. Bullets struck his chest and stomach, but the rounds could not stop him. A bullet even struck the C-4, but the explosives did not detonate.

  The police android pulled himself up to the roof of the bus. He was astonished by the chaos on the street. The escort sedans were riddled with bullets and set aflame by the laser cannons, but the vehicles still rolled forward. Several burning cars were scattered across the lanes like toys in a child's room. Most of the pedestrians on the street were already removed, but a few nosy civilians remained on the sidewalks to record the event. Two helicopters flew over their vehicle, shooting down at the bus with turreted machine guns and sniper rifles.

  Nicholas could see the world was crumbling before his very eyes. Dozens of people were killed and hundreds were injured across the wide street. Yet, he could not force himself to throw the carcass. The explosives could temporarily halt the mayhem, forcing the police to retreat, but he was doubtful. He struggled with his conscience, wrestling with the rights and wrongs of the situation. The potential collateral damage kept him on edge.

  Before he could decide, a hummer rammed a sedan from behind. The SWAT officer on the mounted turret fired a projectile into the sedan to the left. Faster than the speed of sound, the projectile tore through the car. The engine exploded and the vehicle was engulfed in flames. The driver lost control, driving through a group of onlookers on the sidewalk. The loss of human life was shocking, but the death of his comrade was heartbreaking.

  As he stared at the burning vehicle, peering through the dancing flames, Nicholas whispered, “Lynn...”