“Got it.” Bateman nodded, crossed to a kind of mixing desk on the table behind Josephs and started hitting buttons.
The large monitors on the wall flickered. Then Adam found himself staring up at the image of a rocky cavern spread across all four screens, lit up with dramatic spotlights like some cheesy tourist attraction.
The Ring,
he thought. It was a massive space. In the center, a large, familiar figure lay sprawled on the ground.
Zed.
Hayden swigged his coffee. “Check cameras, Mr. Bateman.”
Bateman flicked switches. The image on the screens changed, still showing the Ring but flitting between different angles—from above, from the side, from every possible perspective. Adam saw two large doors on either side of the Ring—the west access point that Zed must have come through, and one other to the east.
“All cameras functioning,” Bateman announced, index finger riding a fader. “Zooming in.”
One camera crash-zoomed in on Zed’s slumped form. Even in sleep, the scaly face was set in a savage sneer. Adam felt his pounding heart inch slowly up his throat.
“Send the Y. rex into the antechamber,” said Hayden, crossing to join Bateman beside the mixing desk. “Time to test the radio link, I think. . . .” He leaned closer to a small built-in microphone. “Testing. Z. rex, do you hear me in there?” The words echoed from the vast plasma screens a second or so after he spoke. “I repeat: Z. rex, do you hear me?”
The dinosaur’s dark beady eyes flickered open. “Zed hear.”
“Are you all right, Zed?” Adam couldn’t help himself. “It’s me!”
“There’s no need to shout.” Hayden nodded to Bateman, who fetched Adam and dragged him closer to the microphone. “We
want
the Z. rex to know we’ve got you.”
“He knows,” Bateman murmured. On the screens, Zed clamored heavily to his feet and started looking about anxiously. He shifted from foot to foot. “Ad . . . am?” he grunted. “Where?”
Hayden took a swig of coffee and smacked his lips. “Hit the doors.”
Josephs flicked another switch on the console that stood beside Y’s holding pen. Then she hurried back to her workstation. A distant rumble carried through the rock floor as the Ring’s East Access doors began to open.
Adam stared helplessly as white brightness from beyond spilled into the Ring. He saw Zed slowly straighten as the shadow of his opponent fell over him, eating away the light.
The Y. rex’s roar bellowed from the monitors, distorting every speaker. At the audiovisual rig, Bateman nudged down the volume.
Zed reacted to the vast figure as it stamped into the Ring. “Zed,” he growled, bewildered.
“Me.”
He was cut off by a vicious howl and the hissing swipe of claws. There was a scuffle of heavy footfalls.
Zed roared in return, a deep, bestial sound of anger. Or maybe fear. Adam realized Zed would wonder at the sight of his twin, try to reason out what was happening. His clone, on the other hand, would simply see an enemy to be killed.
“No!” Zed rumbled. “Not. Fight.”
“Zed, get away from that thing!” Adam shouted helplessly.
“Good advice.” Bateman smirked. “Where’s he going to go?”
“Kill your opponent, Z. rex,” Hayden instructed. “If you don’t, it shall kill you. And then it will kill your friend Adam.”
“Ad . . . am?” Zed growled as the Y. rex took a threatening step toward it.
“Y’s testosterone levels are increasing too fast,” Josephs reported. “There’s a lot of adrenaline. Bring it down, Bill.”
Adam’s dad was typing frantically. “I’m telling its brain to produce more stress inhibitors.”
“Don’t calm it too much,” called Hayden.
“Zed, it’s gonna be distracted in a few seconds!” Adam yelled desperately. “If you hit him hard enough—”
Hayden nodded at Bateman, who quickly struck Adam across the temple with the back of his fat hand. Adam cried out, the force knocking him to the floor as Zed bellowed in anger. He saw his dad rise angrily in protest, but Hayden stabbed out with his finger. “Sit
down,
Bill,” he thundered. “Do your job—or I’ll let Bateman really go to town on him.”
Adam lay curled up on his knees, pretending to be hurt worse than he was, reaching with some difficulty for the dart in his pocket. If Bateman came at him again . . .
But the big man was back watching the screens, as was Hayden. Josephs and Mr. Adlar were poised at their stations as if playing some sick multiplayer video game. Adam was forgotten already.
“Implement attack strategy seven,” called Josephs.
Another roar boomed over the flat screens. The Y. rex aimed a slicing blow at Zed’s head. Zed ducked aside—but as he did so, Y turned and lashed out its tail, just as Zed had done to Sedona back in New Mexico. The thick, powerful tip caught Zed under the chin, smashing his head back. He staggered and fell to the ground with a rasping croak, and the Y. rex howled exultantly.
“Attack strategy seven successful,” Mr. Adlar called back in a flat monotone.
“Get up,” whispered Adam, glued to the screen. “Please, get up.”
Zed tried to rise, but his mirror image lashed out with its fist, smashing him in the jaw. Blood and teeth spat from Zed’s mouth, an explosion of crimson and ivory. Adam’s guts twisted as the Y. rex howled again, teeth quivering, eyes narrowed to slits.
The creature pounced, and Zed went down beneath the mountain of scaly, sinewy flesh. All four screens erupted in a dark green frenzy of tangled limbs and gleaming claws.
“Come on!” Bateman sounded like he was cheering on a boxer in a prize bout. “Stuff it to him!”
“I still don’t like those adrenaline levels.” Josephs frowned at her screen. “This is the point we lost Y in the castle attack.”
“The next few seconds are crucial,” said Hayden. “You selected an attack strategy, which the Y. rex implemented. Now he should select one of his own.”
“I thought you didn’t want that thing to have free will,” Adam called out shakily.
“He’s free to select from the options
I
have given him,” Hayden snapped. “That’s not thinking for himself.”
One of the giant, flailing reptiles broke free of the other’s grip and rolled clear. Adam saw by the bleeding jaw and the missing teeth that it was Zed. But already the Y. rex was back on its feet and coming at him once more. Zed launched himself into the air, flicked out his wings and soared up toward the vaulted ceiling like some nightmarish dragon.
“There’s nowhere to go, freak,” Bateman said with delight.
The Y. rex roared angrily at Zed as he circled above just out of reach.
“Still not selecting a fight strategy,” called Josephs.
Hayden’s eyes never left the screen. “Give it another five seconds.”
Zed, meantime, was making full use of the delay. He suddenly banked left and attacked part of the wall, shearing through solid rock with his talons to expose thick cables that ran like arteries beneath.
“The environment controls!” Josephs leaped from her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “If he destroys them, the Ring safeguards go down.”
“Get away from there,” Hayden shouted into the microphone, “or I’ll kill Adam now.” But the threat was unnecessary. The Y. rex had chosen his move and slammed into Zed just as he tore through one of the shielded cables. The lights flickered. Both dinosaurs blazed blue for a moment, then broke apart and spiraled to the ground.
“Some damage to nonessential systems,” Josephs reported tersely.
Bateman had turned to check another bank of controls. “I think the gas pumps have gone off-line. Now we can’t tranq the beasts if things get out of hand.”
“So, get your men to stand by with the shock-guns,” Hayden told him, with a meaningful glance at Mr. Adlar. “Not that it will come to that. Right, Bill?”
Bateman gave the order into his radio. A deep voice responded, shot through with static. “Copy that. Standing by.”
Adam hardly heard them, glued to the struggle on the screen. Y. rex lunged for Zed’s wing, tearing into it like a chewy steak. Zed shrieked with pain and fury, slicing at his twin’s scaly back with carving-knife claws. Y retreated for the first time, blood flooding from its wounds.
“That one hurt,” Josephs shouted, her dark skin glistening with sweat. “Huge production of glucocorticoids.”
Bateman glanced at her. “Huh?”
“It’s scared,” Hayden translated. “Reinforce the programming, Bill. We’ve got to spike Y. rex back into attack mode.”
Adam held his breath, willing Zed to resume the attack while he could. A close-up of Zed’s face filled one of the four screens as he waited uncertainly, wings tightly folded now, watching his twin. His eyes looked pained, almost sad.
Suddenly, Zed seemed to notice the camera. “STOP FIGHT!” he roared, stomping toward it. His open jaws filled the screen. The image went dead. Bateman quickly patched in another security camera to replace it. Zed roared again. “Not! Fight!”
Hayden pressed his lips to the microphone. “You’ve got no choice, Zed.”
“Y’s fear levels receding,” Josephs shouted. “You’re doing it, Bill.”
“Don’t, Dad,” Adam whispered as the Y. rex launched into flight and screamed across the Ring at Zed, claws outstretched. “Please.”
“It’s gone to strategy thirteen!” called Josephs. “Full charge with talon attack.”
“Did you choose that strategy for him, Bill?” Hayden demanded.
Mr. Adlar shook his head wearily. “Y did it by himself.”
Hayden smiled.
There was a sickening smack as Zed’s body was crushed against the rock wall. Y. rex grabbed Zed’s injured wing with both claws, twisting the thick, gristly sail of skin like he was wringing out a dishcloth.
“Yes . . . a definite follow-through,” said Josephs, excitement building in her voice. “It’s working through the close-quarters combat strategies in order.” She went on with her commentary, unmoved as Zed howled and slipped in his own blood, trying to wrench himself free.
Adam bit his lip, shocked by the violence.
Come on,
he willed Zed.
Break free, you’ve got to!
Finally, Zed managed to loop his tail around his twin’s neck and yank down hard. The clone fell flailing onto its back. Zed raised one foot to stamp down on Y’s neck—then seemed to hesitate.
It was a mistake.
Y jammed a handful of claws into the underside of Zed’s foot, slashing his sole, driving him back.
Bateman gave a pantomime wince. “That’s gotta sting.”
“Strategy nineteen!” Josephs cried. “Y. rex is self-selecting from the range of options.”
“The programming is holding!” Hayden drained his coffee in a flamboyant gulp. “We’re doing it, people!”
And Zed’s losing.
Adam could see the cloudiness in those dark eyes, where teeth, tranqs and shock-guns had taken their toll. He eyed the battered old watch on his dad’s wrist ticking away each sickening second of the conflict.
And suddenly, Adam knew what he had to do. He’d have just one chance.
With a roar like a freight train tearing past the sidings, Y. rex hurled itself at Zed. A frenzied soundtrack of grunts and thumps ensued, a pounding, haphazard rhythm like a wild heartbeat going into arrest. Mr. Adlar glanced over at Adam and saw what he was holding. He caught the look in his son’s eyes.
“Willful, you called me, Dad. And secretive.” Adam sprang toward his father and brought the dart plunging down. “And in the mother of all bad moods!”
Mr. Adlar gasped and clutched his wrist.
Hayden spun around from watching the screens. “What the—?”
“I drugged my dad just like you tried to drug me,” Adam shouted, his own adrenaline levels going through the roof as he held up the tranquilizer dart to Bateman. “Now he can’t help your Y. rex stay in control!”
Bateman jumped up. “How did you—?”
Adam hurled the spent dart at the big man’s feet. “Your mercenaries shot this at me in the warehouse, but it never went in.”
Mr. Adlar collapsed, sprawling across the computer keyboard. Josephs looked over in alarm. “Don’t take your eyes off that display, Sam!” Hayden bellowed. “Mr. Bateman—”
“On to it,” Bateman lowered his head and charged at Adam.
“Not him!” Hayden yelled. “See to Bill. We’ve got to revive him!”
Bateman hesitated midcharge—and Adam grabbed the moment. He hurled himself into his creaking office chair with every ounce of strength he had, gripping the low back with his cuffed hands as he rode it out of the security head’s path and headed through a canyon of desks straight for Josephs. She looked up at the last moment, just as Adam crashed into her, shoving her from her seat. She fell awkwardly, cracking the back of her head on the edge of the audiovisual console behind her.
She didn’t get up again.
Too scared to feel even a second’s satisfaction, Adam started to stab at every button on the console. “Zed!” he shouted, and heard his own voice ring back at him over the flat screens with a squeal of feedback. “Make it angry and it’ll lose control! It can’t think like you can.”
Hayden looked livid, already sprinting toward Adam. Bateman was just behind him.
Oh, God, oh, God
. Adam grabbed Josephs’s mug of coffee with both cuffed hands and chucked it at Hayden. Hayden ducked down; the mug sailed past him. He kept on coming. In desperation, Adam lifted a metal clipboard from the desk and swiped wildly at Hayden’s head. This time, he connected. As Hayden staggered back, blocking Bateman’s own attack for a moment, Adam scrambled over Josephs’s desk to reach the console that worked the doors. He flicked every switch he could see. The double doors ahead of him started to grind open; the dark pen beyond breathed the stink of reptile and rotting meat into the room. An escape route? No, Bateman was still coming. He would shut the doors, shut Adam’s eyes forever unless . . .
Adam joined his fists, took a clumsy swing at Bateman and missed. Bateman thumped him in the stomach. The breath exploded from Adam’s lungs and he doubled up, falling to the floor. On the screens, Zed was on his belly, frantically crawling, dragging Y. rex behind him. Y’s jaws were clamped around Zed’s tail, brutally scissoring the tough flesh.