Deadman's Switch & Sunder the Hollow Ones (14 page)

The look on Stephen's face tells me everything I need to know. Arc hasn't just been monitoring us through their tracking app, they've been watching and listening to everything we've said and done, at least when we were in Tanya's presence. Every observation she's made has been recorded, digitized and sent straight to Arc.

“Who else have they tried it on?”

Stephen's body twitches a little as he strains his arm against the bindings. His hand grips the edge of the table, then there's a click and it rises. He's holding something. I hear some sort of mechanism ratcheting as he raises his hand, then a metallic
tink
as it sets.

“What are you doing?” I demand. “What is that?”

“It's called a déclic. I'm sure your Mr. Espinosa could explain to you what it is and what it does, but in the interest of time, I'll tell you. It's a trigger for the guillotine. This particular trigger is of the type called a deadman's switch. As long as I hold it, the blade above me stays put. But if I let go, the blade falls and I die. If I fall asleep, I die. If I relax—even just a little—
zip
, the end of me.”

I'm confused. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“You see, I'm a master of deadman's switches, triggers that must constantly be on in order to maintain the status quo.”

“Really. I don't care. We don't need you anymore.”

“I don't know how long I'll be able to hold this up.”

“Let go.”

“The thing inside your head—inside all your heads—that's keeping you from leaving? I can tell you how to get rid of it.”

My face grows cold. “You had your chance.”

“If you allow me to let go of this switch, then you will never leave this island.”

“We're leaving. We're shutting down the servers and leaving.”

“I think you already realize that's not going to work.”

I check the time on my Link. The ten minutes I promised Reggie have come and gone. And when it pings right then, I almost shout with surprise.

“Jess,” Reggie says.

“Five more minutes, Reg. Just wait five more minutes.”

“It worked, Jessie!” he cries. “I've already pinged Ash. She's shutting the servers down now. All of them. We're leaving!”

“How do you know?”

He turns his Link and the scene spins dizzyingly, then quickly comes to a stop. Now I'm looking at what appears to be a map, a loose tangle of colorful strings on a black board. There's a single blinking red light on one of the strings.

“I just found the main control room,” I hear him say. His hand appears, his finger pointing at the blinking light. “Here's the tram. It's on the Foxhurst side. I expect it'll start coming back soon. The point is, they made it through.”

Excitement and relief flushes through me.

“I'll get the others. We'll meet you down there.”

“You're friends will die if you go through that tunnel,” Stephen says.

“No, they won't.”

He frowns. “You'll get through, of course. We can't stop you. You and Mr. Corben. You're right about the implant activation and the rejection, so the failsafe won't work on you anymore. I warned Arc about that, but they didn't listen to me.”

“Now I'm not going to listen to you. You can just lie there holding that—that hangman switch—”

“Deadman's switch.”

“That thing until your arm gives out. You better hope Arc finds you before that happens.”

“You know as well as I that my arm won't last that long. You can see it's already shaking from the effort. I haven't eaten anything in three days.” He winces, as if to drive home the point.

I stare at his hand, at the white knuckles and the tendons standing out, almost mesmerized by the way it quivers. He won't last five more minutes, and I know it. But he's the one who pulled that switch, not me. I can leave with a clear conscience and he can die by his own hand.

“I'm leaving,” I tell him, one final time. I turn back toward the door.

He laughs drily. “What do you know about your father, Jessica?” he asks.

The question feels vaguely familiar, though at first I'm not sure why. Then I remember: Eric had asked me the same thing the night after we returned from Long Island, the night he was called down to deal with a sudden influx of IUs into lower Manhattan, zombies that I and my friends accidentally brought back with us from here when we escaped.

“He's not dead, Jessica.”

“Half his head was splattered over the walls and floor of the house we used to live in. “So, yes, he is dead. Dead and buried.”

His hand jerks, trembling wildly now. Now I can see the strain on his face from holding it up.

I turn away. He's not worth it.

“No!” he shouts, startling me. Behind me, I hear the heavy blade rattle in its track. The cable twangs.

I step to the door. Other than confirming something I already suspected, coming to talk to him was a mistake. I shouldn't have wasted my time. I insert the cardkey, then place my hand on the handle and twist it. “You had your chance,” I say. I yank the door open.

Kelly stumbles in. He's bleeding and his face is smudged.

He pushes me aside.

“No!”

I hear the cable twang again, then the
SHING!
of the blade as it falls.

 

Kelly flings his backpack
at the guillotine, catching the descending blade just before it slides into the upper half of the lunette. But the blade slices through the fabric like butter. There's a loud
screech!
a
thunk!
and it comes to a sudden, shuddering stop.

Kelly and I tumble to the floor, our feet entangled. We both stare at the horrific scene, the vibrating cable thrumming like a swarm of wasps. Neither of us moves.

After a moment, Stephen blinks open his eyes and lets out a shuddering exhale. He raises his empty hands. The guillotine lets out a loud groan and the cable makes the sound of a spring tensed beyond breaking. Neither of us dares to move—Kelly, out of fear that we'll trigger the blade to fall the rest of the way and sever Stephen's head from his body, and I out of fear that it won't.

Slowly, carefully, Kelly stands up again. There's a long scrape down his arm and his shirt is torn and filthy. It's one of the I♥NY shirts from the gift shop upstairs. Right now I can't say I share that sentiment. He cautiously approaches the table, then he grabs the blunt edge of the blade and puts all his weight into lifting it.

“Get him out,” he shouts at me, as he struggles to raise the blade. “Untie him and get him out. We need him!”

I push myself off of the floor. The door swings shut, but before it latches, Tanya and Ashley come running through it.

“What's all the shouting about?”

I work on loosening the bindings around Stephen's legs and yell at Ash to untie his arms. Tanya looks on in shock, unsure of what to make of the scene.

“We need to lift the blade,” Kelly says, grunting. He sees Tanya and frowns, then turns to me for an explanation.

“She can help,” I say, freeing one ankle and moving over to the other. “Just tell her what to do!”

“Pull that lever down,” he tells her, gesturing with his chin.

She hurries over and reaches for the handle. “Pull it down,” Kelly repeats. “Hard!”

She tries, but the lever slips from her grip and slaps back up against the frame of the guillotine. She yelps and jumps back.

I push her aside and yank the lever down. A ratcheting sound comes from inside the frame.

“Now push it back up again and then down. Do not let go!”

I do as Kelly says and the cable tenses. The second pull is considerably harder than the first. The blade begins to rise. It's very heavy. I repeat the steps until the blade reaches the bottom edge of the top crossbar. I hear a click and it catches.

Kelly reaches over and unlocks the lunette and lifts the upper half. “Pull him out,” he yells.

By now, Ash has gotten Stephen completely unbound. He's visibly shaking, but he manages to curl himself away from the head of the table. He rolls off to the side and crumples to the floor.

I turn to Kelly and scream, “What the hell are we saving him for?”

“We need him,” Kelly pants. He rests his hands on his knees, trembling. “We need him.” And he slips to the floor.

“Someone want to tell me what's going on?” Ashley says. She gives the guillotine a wary look, but the blade is locked into place and the triggers haven't been reset. It's not moving.

“I'd like to know that, too, Kelly,” I say. “Just a few minutes ago, you were in Foxhurst. Now you're here. And what the hell happened to you? You're bleeding. You're a mess!”

He brushes my hands away. “We didn't make it. We didn't even get halfway when Jake started getting sick again.”

“I told you,” Stephen says, coughing. He grabs the side of the table and tries to pull himself up. The table creaks under his weight and the blade rattles loosely in the upright. We all eye it uneasily. “I told you your feeble attempt wouldn't work.”

“Kelly, what happened down there? I just talked to Reggie a couple minutes ago. He said it worked. We were just getting ready to leave to come back.”

Kelly's head jerks up. “Did he tell you to shut off the servers?”

Ash nods. “They're all down. I just finished when I heard the shouting in here.”

“Shit,” Kelly says. He stumbles to his feet and turns toward the door. “God damn it, I'm so god damn stupid! We need to leave. Now!”

I move to stop him, pressing my hands on the bare skin of his arms. I can feel blood and grit beneath my fingers. There are oily smudges on his clothes and face; he smells of grease. “Where are Jake and Reggie?”

“They're coming.” He tries to get by me. “Open the door.”

“Kelly, stop! What happened?”

His eyes dart past me, then spin around the room. He sees the broken window, but realizes it's no exit for him. The other door is locked and I have the only cardkey.

“Kelly?”

He blinks rapidly and finally focuses on my face, seeing me as if for the first time. “It didn't work, Jessie. It's not going to work. All we've done is alert Arc that we're trying to leave. And now we have to.
Now
! We need to get as far away from here as we possibly can.”

“There's nowhere to go,” Stephen says. He leans on the table, barely able to hold himself up. “They'll find you.”

Kelly spins on him. “That's enough bullshit out of you! You're coming with us. You're going to take us to wherever we have to go so we can leave.”

Stephen stares at Kelly for a moment before lowering his head. He shakes it laughing.

“I know they can track us,” Kelly says. “I know we can't hide. Our only chance is to get to where we need to go before they catch us again.”

Stephen looks up again and their eyes connect. Something passes between them, some sort of message. “And where do you think that is, Mr. Corben?”

“I have my suspicions.”

Stephen holds his gaze a moment longer. Then he shrugs and says, “Okay. You win.”

I pull Kelly's arm. “Please, tell me what's going on. Why won't shutting the servers down work?”

“Because that doesn't block the failsafe,” Kelly says. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”

For a moment I think he's accusing me, but then I realize he's looking over my shoulder. I turn my head.

Ashley shakes her head. “I wasn't sure.”

“Ash?”

She looks like she's about to cry. “I wasn't sure!”

“Damn it, Ashley! Tell me now!”

“It was the root files. I searched every square bit on those machines. They're not there because the programs don't live on the servers. They live somewhere else. The servers are only a processing center for the Gameland data and a relay for the failsafe programs.”

Stephen nods at the table. “You've done nothing but shunt those streams to another server bank somewhere else on the island.”

“The program still runs,” I whisper, realization hitting me like a splash of cold water.

Ashley nods.

“Guys,” Kelly says, pulling me toward the door. “Arc is coming. We can't wait any longer.” He reaches for his mangled backpack, still wedged in the guillotine. One of the zippers is caught inside the track. It's all that stopped the blade from reaching the bottom and slicing through Stephen's neck. He tugs it, but it won't come free.

Stephen just stands there watching. I'm still not sure he's even grateful for the reprieve. I can't tell if what he tried to do was just a threat or if he really did expect to die.

“Leave it,” I tell Kelly.

Kelly reaches through the upright and tries to twist the pack out.

“I said leave it! We've got enough already.”

He curses and starts to pull his arm back out. The catch at the top of the upright gives a loud
snap!
I watch in horror as the blade twitches at the top, then releases.

 

 

The heat and humidity hit us
the moment Reggie bursts through the security door to the underground shuttle area and we step outside for the first time in a week. But it's nothing compared with the direct sunlight and glare that pound us as we hurry across Central Terminal Drive. The coolness inside the grungy windows of a Marriott Hotel looks inviting, but we pass it by, watching our ghostly reflections in the dusty glass, and instead plunge into the shade of the adjacent parking garage. Only eight-thirty in the morning and already the temperature feels like it's approaching ninety degrees.