Adam (15 page)

Despite the joking about going in through the front gates, the real plan consisted of Adam dropping Seth and Anastasia off first at predetermined points outside the military perimeter. Seth would be sneaking into the facility from the rear, placing explosives along his way while Anastasia stowed herself in the trunk of a vehicle heading into the installation.

Not that the driver knew he had a stowaway.

The male, stopped at the red light, found himself understandably distracted by Adam, who pulled up alongside him, revving his super car. The sap never even knew Anastasia had popped his trunk and hopped in. The lax gate guards on duty at the parking lot entry point never bothered to check either, waving in the worker once he flashed his badge for his evening skeleton shift on the factory floor.

Too easy.

Once inside, Anastasia also planned to place bombs on anything that would create pretty fireworks.

Also known as a distraction.

Operating on a scrambled frequency, they sent short encrypted messages to keep each other in the loop so as to perfectly time the assault.

I’ve placed the last of my explosives. Waiting for countdown to arm the timers remotely.

I’ve still got one more
,
Seth replied.

Let me know when you’re ready
,
Adam answered, fingers drumming his steering wheel. Parked a half-mile from the main gate, his part in the plan involved him actually ramming into the place, guns blazing and drawing even more attention while Seth and Anastasia infiltrated the establishment and made their way to the lower levels.

Once Adam secured their exit by killing anything that moved, he’d join them and rely on an unquantifiable hope that his calculations on the chaos would prove accurate about keeping reinforcements disoriented, thus enabling their retreat.

Done. The bombs are all set.

Excellent. Countdown begins on my mark. Three. Tw
o
. No need to say one. The timers were activated and on a short fuse, too. Adam revved his engine and put his Charger into gear. Time to put those pricey modifications to work.

Foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor, he raced toward the chain link fence, which stretched fourteen feet high and was topped with barbed wire. As he powered toward the gate and its flanking guard booths, a pair of soldiers exited and aimed their rifles at him. He could see their lips moving,
Stop or we’ll shoot.

Go ahead. Bullets couldn’t hurt his baby. On the contrary, they pinged off his hood without leaving a dent. Adam couldn’t help but laugh, a non-cyborg sound that evolved into a “Yee-fucking-haw!”

Not an expression he’d ever used before but which felt apt for the moment.

The soldiers kept firing. They should have taken the hint and run for cover or better weapons. A grenade launcher for example.

But their feeble human brains chose self-preservation, and they dove to the side. It didn’t save them. His mounted machine guns sprayed the area. First rule of survival—never leave an enemy behind. Acts of mercy could cost a life, and given cyborg numbers were small and finite, they couldn’t spare any.

At a speed of over eighty miles per hour, he hit the gate, his momentum great enough to tear it from its motorized track with a screech of metal.

And then he was through, his car jolting slightly from the raised spike strips just past the opening, their sharp spires unable to puncture his reinforced wheels.

The ping of more bullets barely registered. Soldiers ran toward him, firing in vain, but that all stopped as the sky suddenly lit. The two-dozen charges Seth and Anastasia had set ignited.

Ka-boom
!

Everything shook. Flames leaped into the dark night sky. Smoke billowed in a thick fog that would choke those unequipped for it.

Sirens wailed, but only for a moment. The brilliant lights illuminating the place extinguished. taking with them the awful keening mechanical wail.

Rosalind had kept her side of the deal and shut down the electrical grid. A place like this, though, had other measures in place. The backup generators kicked in not long after, but the damage was done.

Full-on panic had been achieved. The siren returned with its strident warning. Smaller explosions popped, adding to the general mayhem.

People streamed in a stampeding herd out of the buildings, some in soldiers’ uniforms, others in blue coveralls, and, mixed in with them, doctors and scientists in white lab coats. Bodies ran in all directions, screaming. Flailing. Ducking every time they heard a boom or gunfire. They provided excellent cover.

Skidding to a stop before the smaller entrance into the facility, which Adam had used less than a day ago to check in for his shift, he exited his car and patted it.

“If I’m favored by the odds that say you have a fifty-three percent chance of still being here intact, then I’ll see you again.”

A gun in each hand, Adam headed into the factory while wirelessly apprising Seth and Anastasia of his location.

Entering the facility on the north side.

I am already on the third level. Weak resistance thus far. How about you, wifey poo?

Adam could practically hear Anastasia gnash her teeth at the endearment.

Seth, darling, I am going to lobotomize you myself if you call me that again. I am on level four and seeing signs of violence. Judging by the clues, I think our friend, Avion, has managed to rescue himself. I’m going after him.

Good news so far. As for Adam, the guards usually manning the first checkpoint were absent. Probably in the first mob that rushed out when the explosions started. About to head to the elevator shaft so he could drop down and penetrate the lower levels to rejoin his friends, he halted.

Something didn’t
feel
right. He spun on his heel and took a peek at the hall leading to the administrative offices.

They weren’t part of the plan. The computers in there didn’t hold any decent secrets, and there were no cells or prisoners on this floor. Yet…that didn’t stop him from walking toward the director’s office. Pulled not quite against his will, yet, at the same time, unable to veer his path.

Why am I compelled?
Was there a hidden fault in his programming that the military had just now tapped into?

Was he about to walk into a trap?

As he neared the office, a murmur of voices came to him, the sharp bark of the director and the fainter sound of someone replying. It seemed not everyone had evacuated.

However, that wasn’t what made the hairs on his nape rise. Nor was it anticipation that he could terminate a man culpable of causing so much harm.

What halted his heart and stole his breath was the feminine reply.

What the hell is Laura doing here?

How did I end up here?

Laura and Rosalind had been only moments from taking a cab to a farmer’s field outside of town where they were supposed to get picked up by their ride, a ride that would take them off planet and out of this galaxy.

They missed their connection. Probably because, as they were slinging bags over their shoulders, readying to leave, the military had busted in and taken them into custody.

Or at least had taken Laura. She wasn’t quite sure what happened to Rosalind. Things got kind of chaotic what with all the troops who crashed in, screaming at them to hit the floor with their hands laced over their head.

Given the odds, Laura hastened to comply, but Rosalind, she uttered something in Spanish, lobbed something at the soldiers, which exploded in a cloud of smoke, and, in the turmoil that ensued, disappeared.

Even now that the smoke had cleared, Laura wasn’t sure if they’d caught Rosalind or not. Nor did anyone bother to keep her informed. Instead, the soldiers dragged Laura away and took her to an all-too-familiar office.

But the director’s office didn’t seem so friendly and familiar, given for this visit she wore handcuffs and was shoved to her knees before a stern-faced director who, for once, wore his military uniform with all its bars. He was in full-on general mode with a stare so glacial he could have frozen penguins.

For some reason the adage of not staring a predator in its eyes came to mind, and she dropped her gaze. Instead, Laura stared at the shining toes on the director’s black leather shoes. In them she could almost see a warped version of herself. How strange because usually without her glasses anything beyond a few inches from her nose turned into a blurry kaleidoscope of color.

“If it isn’t the traitorous doctor. Or should I call you cyborg lover?”

She stiffened. How did they know? She and Adam had only recently hooked up. Was there a spy in their midst? That wouldn’t bode well for the rescue mission if, in fact, there was even a mission still to speak of.

Did the fact that the safe house had suffered a raid mean that Adam and the others got caught—or killed?

She closed her mind against the thought. He couldn’t be dead.

“Nothing to say? Funny, you had plenty to say when you were feeding information to the cyborgs. Did you really think someone with your level of clearance could get away with doing that? They are our enemies.”

“Enemy?” She couldn’t help a scoffing noise. “They’re human.”

“Wrong. They’re machines. Tools to be used. Or, in this case, discarded since they refused to serve their purpose.”

“You’re the one who is wrong. They’re human. Yes, they have more parts than they were born with. But that doesn’t change the facts. They were born human, and even though you experimented on them, their humanity is still there. They’re not machines like you’d have us believe. You should be ashamed of yourself. You and all the others who thought that changing people against their wills was acceptable.”

“Ashamed of what? We made them better!” The general slammed his hand down on his desk, the loud sound echoing in his office. “Before we touched them, they were pitiful. Many of them dying or infirm. We gave them purpose. We fixed them.”

“You made them slaves!” Yelling at the man who held her life in his ruthless hands might not have been the brightest thing she ever did, and yet, Laura couldn’t just sit there and listen to his arrogant claim.

“They were soldiers. And soldiers are expected to obey. If some of them die in the course of their duties, then that is the cost of war and peace.”

“What you have done has gone beyond that. You genetically modified these men and women, lied to them or outright forced them to become something they never asked for. You took their freedom, and when they refused to be your puppets, you slaughtered them.”

“Before they could slaughter us!” he yelled, the spittle flying from his tight lips and his eyes blazing with righteous anger. “We had no choice. Once we realized they would not be controlled, we had to exterminate. So many of them became mad when the programming failed. And mad machines who know how to kill and are virtually indestructible are a threat to the human race. We did what we had to in order to protect mankind.”

“How is holding them prisoner here and experimenting on them protecting mankind?” was her sarcastic retort.

“Know thy enemy. Or, even better, discover thy enemies’ weakness and then use it to eradicate them. Did you know we’ve finally found a way to destroy them once and for all? Just turn off their bots and poof”—he spread his hands in a mini explosion—“they die.”

“If you have this method, then why drop a bomb on Adam’s house? Why not just poof him, as you say?”

The general scowled as he moved away from her. “Unfortunately, we’ve had issues replicating the procedure since the original lab got destroyed before they could relay the information. But we’re close, very close. Once we discover the secret to turning the nanobots off, the cyborg threat will cease to exist.”

One thing didn’t make sense. “If your whole purpose is to turn them off, then why have me work on the reanimation of the nanotech?”

A malicious grin spread across his lips. “Because, if we can turn it off, then they no longer pose a danger. We won’t need to resort to breaking their minds. We’ll just threaten any new cyborgs with flipping off the switch. Once they’ve been modified, they need the nanos to survive. Just look at your new cyborg friend, AF313. A fragile shell, and once Major Kelly is done questioning him, AF313 will donate his body for the greater good of mankind.”

“You’re going to kill him!”

“Such shock. He’s dying anyway. Why delay the inevitable? At least now he serves a purpose. Unlike you. While the option to reanimate would be handy, it’s not necessary in the grand scheme of things, which means you’re no longer necessary.”

“So why kidnap me then? Why not just have your soldiers kill me when they raided the safe house?”

“For secrets of course. Before you die, I expect you to spill every single thing you know about the cyborgs. Locations. Names. Every little detail.”

“I know nothing.”

The hard cuff to the side of her head sent her sprawling. She blinked as she rotated her throbbing jaw.

“Let that be your first lesson. Lies will result in punishment.”

“And yet the truth will still end up with you killing me? Exactly where’s the incentive?”

“Impertinent bitch!” The kick at her ribs caused her to gasp and roll onto her back, arms crossing over her middle.

He crouched down beside her, the coldness in his expression frightening. “And so begins your lesson in humil—”

Whatever he meant to say got cut short as the floor and the very building itself shook, the distant boom of explosions muted, and yet unmistakable.

“What the fuck!” he exclaimed as he got to his feet. The lights flickered and died. Darkness fell, only for a moment before the backup generators kicked in, the emergency floodlight in a corner of his office illuminating the space.

A walkie-talkie on his desk crackled to life. “Sir, computer systems are offline.”

“No shit, soldier. What the hell is happening out there?”

But there was no reply. Just dead static.

The general turned his gaze her way. “You knew this was coming, didn’t you? We didn’t kill Adam and the others in that explosion, did we? That bloody model AF313 lied to us. How many are out there? What’s their plan?”

She clamped her lips tight.

He lunged and grabbed a fistful of hair, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Answer me!”

A slap snapped her face to the side. Then another. After a third, he flung her from him.

She put a hand to her burning cheek, waiting for the fear. Waiting for the anxiety that she was about to die. Instead, a focused rage filled her.

Who gave him the right to abuse her? To treat her like this? And why was she taking it?

What else can I do?

The general loosed the top few buttons on his dress shirt and shrugged off his coat before rolling up his sleeves. “How do you feel about pain, Doctor?” he asked as he cracked his knuckles.

“Maybe I should ask you that question, General.” The ache in her cheek had faded more quickly than she expected, and she got to her feet to face the man she’d silently hated for months.

“You dare threaten me?” He arched a brow as he laughed.

A surge of adrenaline went through her. Not only did her entire body thrum with energy, but her eyesight had also sharpened, as if the blow had jolted something loose inside her—or moved something into place.

“I do dare because someone has to stand up to bullies.” Spine straight, shoulders back, and gaze not wavering, she faced the general. Yes, he might outweigh her, and he might know how to fight, but she wasn’t about to sit there and let him hurt her. She’d defend herself to her last breath.

“You’ll regret those words,” he threatened.

The door to the office crashed open and bounced off the wall. Adam stood framed in the doorway, eyes practically shooting lasers—which she’d heard those with the robotic orbs could do. She couldn’t help but smile at seeing him.

Then screech as the general lunged and grabbed her by the hair, reefing her tight against his chest, a gun pointed at her temple.

“If it isn’t the model soldier. I knew we should have killed you two weeks ago when we discovered what you were.”

“You’re right, you should have,” Adam purred in a low tone as he prowled into the office, forcing the general to shuffle his body to keep him within sight. “Why didn’t you?”

“The stupid fuckers I work for wanted to see what you were up to. We had undercover squads follow you around to discover what secrets you hid.”

“You mean like the fact you had the leader of the Earth’s cyborg resistance under your nose for years and never suspected?”

“Leader?” The general adopted a mocking tone. “A pathetic leader of a ragtag group of broken cyborgs and a few measly humans. What was your greatest accomplishment?” The general smirked in evident mockery. “Let’s see. You smuggled a few supplies here and there. Rescued the occasional leftover bot who wasn’t deemed important enough to destroy. Oh yes, your movement was a great success.”

“I made a difference,” Adam growled.

“Not really and soon you won’t even be a distant memory. In short order, we will have a weapon that will make all cyborgs cease to exist. You will only be a brief footnote in the history of humanity.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.” Adam’s gun hand raised and aimed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Drop it, or I will blow her head off.” The bastard pressed the barrel of his gun harder against Laura’s temple. She panted, unable to contain her fear. She knew a little about cyborg training. Right now his logical side was telling him to shoot. To hell with civilian casualty.

Yet, indecision froze him. She could see the battle on his face as emotions flitted across. Opening his fingers, he let his weapon fall and hit the floor with a clatter.

Laura could have sobbed at this evidence of his attachment to her, and then screamed because, without his gun, he couldn’t defend himself.

The hand gripping her hair shook, but she didn’t feel any pain. The general laughed. “Just as I suspected. You do have a soft spot for the human girl. Or should I call it a weakness?”

“Let her go and I’ll kill you quickly,” Adam offered.

“Or how about I shoot her and then kill you?” The muzzle slid and pressed against the back of her skull.

“You really don’t want to do that. If she dies, you’ll join her.”

“Good point. But you forgot to calculate one thing. I don’t need to kill her to best you. So here’s a question, cyborg. You obviously care for the girl, but the question is, do you care enough? Will you let her die so you can live?”

The gun at her temple shifted to her shoulder, and while Laura heard the retort as it fired, she didn’t immediately grasp what it meant. The pain took a moment to filter. Wet warmth gushed from her. Blood.

My blood.

He shot me.