Infinity Lost (20 page)

The barrage stops as suddenly as it began, the rails snap back into place, and the R.A.M. lowers its big, green, smoking arms.

It can’t have taken more than ten seconds, but now the tank is completely and utterly unrecognizable. It’s been wiped out of existence in a frightening blaze of awesome power. All that’s left is a wide black smear of smoking parts and twisted metal.

“HA HA HA HA HA! THAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER!”
shouts the R.A.M. as it does a little side-to-side happy dance. It looks absolutely ridiculous whenever Dean does it, and even more so when he’s making a thirty-foot-tall killing machine do it.

“Ah . . . a word please, Colonel Brash?”
Professor Francis says, getting to his feet.

Whether it’s from anger or embarrassment is not certain, but Colonel Brash’s face has turned an unbecoming shade of pink. He turns to Dean.
“You walk that robot back over here safe and sound right now and you might avoid the latrine duty that these two incompetent soldiers will be doing every afternoon for the next two weeks.”

The masked soldiers standing near the Colonel glance at each other, and then sheepishly stare at the ground.

In the chair, Dean has a goofy, slack-jawed grin as the R.A.M., arms still oozing tiny wisps of thick smoke, strides happily across the arena toward its folded-down box.

“Woo!” I look over my shoulder to see Brody leaping out of his chair and punching into the air. “That was next-level aaaawesome!”

Brent stands and points at the display. “I’m gonna ask for a R.A.M. for graduation.”

Brody is standing beside him, nodding like a bobbleheaded moron. “Yeah, me too!”

Ryan clears his throat. “Display. Mute audio.” The screens go silent. He turns and sneers at the two boys, slowly shaking his head. “You can’t just buy a R.A.M., you idiots, no matter
how
much money your fathers have.”

“My father is a powerful man, and the Secretary of Defense is a close family friend. Trust me Forrester, it’ll happen,” Brent says with his ever-present air of superiority.

Ryan jumps up and walks to the boundary line.

“They are Vermillion-Class military hardware. Even rich terrorist warlords couldn’t get their hands on one.”

Brent walks up to the line. “My father could.”

“Y’know what, Brent?” Ryan points right at Brent’s face. “You . . . are a Vermillion-Class dickhead.”

Bit and I watch as the boys fire insults back and forth across the black-and-yellow-striped border, their heated argument amusingly mirrored by the steely-eyed exchange I can see between Colonel Brash and the Professor on the screen behind Margaux.

“Seriously, Finn, what do you see in that guy?” asks Bit.

“I dunno,” I say, my eyes drifting from Ryan and his effortless cool to the far screen and back again. “He’s . . .”

“He’s what? A delinquent? A criminal? Well, maybe not yet, but believe me, it won’t take long before he is. He’s been kicked out of how many schools? Nine? Ten? Trust me, Finn, I know trouble when I see it, and Ryan is definitely—”

What was that?

On the screen across the room.

No.

It can’t have been.

“Finn? Did you even hear a word I just said?”

I quickly turn back to our screen, staring intently.

There it is again!

Oh no.

Please no.

“Finn? Earth to Finn?” Bit says, waving a hand in front of my face.

I swat her hand away; I’m glued to the screen. My heart starts beating like a drum as adrenaline courses through my veins.

There it is again!

“Finn. What’s the matter?”

I look over at the group under the blast shield. They’re all watching Professor Francis point and gesticulate angrily at Colonel Brash. Percy steps down from the stand and attempts to mediate. None of them have noticed. Then again, why would they?

“What are you looking at? Finn?”

Dean. Oh no. No one has noticed Dean, either. He’s gone totally limp. More than before. I look over to the R.A.M. and back again. Dean’s body jerks ever so slightly and a drip of saliva slides down his chin. He grits his teeth for a fleeting moment, then slouches even lower as a dribble of blood leaks from his nose and trickles down over his top lip. Please, oh please, don’t let this be happening.

“We have to warn them, Bit. We have to warn everyone to get out of there right now.”

“What? Why?” Bit says, scanning back and forth over the mosaic of pictures.

What can I tell her? The truth would make no sense to her. All I can do is watch as the R.A.M.’s eyes flicker on and off like a strobe light, switching from one color to the next. Suddenly they shut off altogether and I hold my breath, willing my instincts to be wrong. The next few seconds feel like an eternity; I grind my teeth in my jaw and my heart is beating a mile a minute as I tightly grip the arms of my chair, hoping against hope that the eye strip stays black.

It’s no use.

My fears become reality as the circles flick back on with a single, solid, unfaltering color. The eyes blink and its head turns in the direction of the group as the massive robot steps off its folded-down box and stomps heavily toward the wall of the blast shield.

I’ve lost all control of my thoughts, my brain too clouded with fear to remember the simple display command. “Bit! Please! Turn the sound on!”

Hearing my desperation, Bit shouts the order at the screen. “Display audio on!”

Breathless gasps escape from a few of my schoolmates as they suddenly notice the R.A.M. towering over them, its huge green domed head peeking in between the spikes of splattered yellow paint. Bit was right when she said this would end badly. My stomach twists into knots and my mind reels with panic as I watch the thirty-foot-tall killing machine glare down on the faces inside the bubble with its brand-new eyes.

Its huge, round . . .
silvery-gray eyes
.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The giant robot bellows a single word that paralyzes my entire body.

“INFINITY!”

Colonel Brash halts his heated discussion with the Professor and throws a sideways glance over his shoulder.
“Go on back to the box, son. We’ll unhook you in a minute.”

The mechanoid leans in closer, scanning the blast shield, searching for faces around the edges of the yellow paint splatter like a cat stalking goldfish in a bowl.

“WHERE ARE YOU, CHILD? I KNOW YOU’RE ALIVE. I CAN FEEL IT.”

The Colonel’s ears visibly twitch and his spine suddenly straightens. He slowly turns toward the voice as the robot’s huge gray eyes rove into view, leering down on him between two spikes of yellow. Concern creases his brow. He knows that something isn’t right. The R.A.M. reaches down and wipes at the big fluorescent splat with its massive green hand, but it’s only making the mess worse, smearing the paint into opaque streaks with loud screeching swipes.

“SHOW YOURSELF, INFINITY,”
the R.A.M. demands, its deep modulated voice echoing menacingly from the display.

Colonel Brash quickly looks over at Dean, and his expression immediately flashes from serious concern to surprised shock. Dean is slumped even lower now; his head flopped forward, blood steadily dripping from the tip of his nose into a widening patch of red on his white school shirt. The Colonel lunges at Dean, grabs him by the shoulders, and shakes him vigorously.
“Son, wake up! Boy! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

Colonel Brash stomps forcefully on the edge of the platform and the metal chair collapses down into the base. He catches Dean, lays him on the dirt, flicks the visor up, and tugs the metal band from his forehead. Dean’s eyes are half-open, unresponsive, staring blankly into space as saliva dribbles from the corner of his loosely gaping mouth.

“Computer! Medical emergency protocol epsilon!”

The Colonel glances quickly from side to side, most likely expecting a hospital bed to rise from the ground nearby, but nothing happens. He pulls his sleeve back and shouts into his wristband.

“Computer! Respond! Medical emergency protocol epsilon!”

Nothing happens.

“What’s going on?”
Professor Francis asks sternly at the Colonel’s back.
“What’s wrong with Mr. McCarthy? Is that . . . blood?”

“The boy is unconscious, and I have no idea why,”
Colonel Brash says gravely.

For a brief moment the Professor looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him, but his frown vanishes as quickly as it came when a sudden realization strikes him. He points up at the towering silhouette moving on the wall of the shield.
“But if Mr. McCarthy is unconscious
 . . .
who on earth is controlling tha—”

“THERE’S NO USE IN HIDING, INFINITY. COME OUT NOW, OR THESE PEOPLE WILL BE HURT.”

The R.A.M. raises its right arm and brings its fist down hard on the shield. A ringing peal issues loudly from the display, echoing around the room like a church bell. The shield stays intact but everyone inside screams and shrieks, scattering across the grandstand in every direction. Miss Cole hastily scrambles around the back of it, sheltering beneath its supports, and is very quickly joined by the huddled bunch of the rest of the group.

“COME OUT, INFINITY, OR I WILL COME IN.”

“Do something!”
Professor Francis yells over his shoulder as he trots around the back of the stand to join Miss Cole and the others. There’s no mistaking the fear on their faces as they peer out from the gaps between the seats.

“It’s out of control!” Brent blurts from the other side of the room.

“What’s an Infinity?” asks Brody.

Bit grabs my arm and her nails dig in hard. She looks at me with fear in her eyes. “It knows you,” she whispers.

I nod solemnly.

“What’s going on, Finn?”

“The same thing that happened on the pirate ship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t faint. Someone was controlling the pirate captain. They tried to kill me.”

“And now the same person is controlling the R.A.M.?”

“Yes.”

“Are you absolutely sure? Who on earth would be trying to kill you? And how are they controlling constructs and equipment?”

“I promise I’ll tell you everything, but right now I need to get down there before someone gets killed because of me.”

“How?”

“I have no idea.”

“Hello!”
shouts the Colonel’s voice.

Bit and I turn back to the display to see Colonel Brash standing with his hands on his hips at the wall of the dome. The massive robot takes two pounding stomps to the side and focuses on the Colonel’s face through a small clean section of the blast shield. The Colonel holds up the little black box.

“I can shut that mechanoid down with the press of a button. But before I do, perhaps you’d like to tell me who you are, and how you hacked into the most secure computer system on the planet?”

I have to admit: whether he knows it or not, the Colonel is a brave man.

“SIMON BRASH,”
booms the mechanoid.
“IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME.”

It’s plain to see that the Colonel is completely taken aback.
“How do you know my name? Who are you?!”

“YOU WERE LIEUTENANT BRASH WHEN WE FIRST MET, BUT LOOK AT YOU NOW, SIMON. JUDGING BY THOSE STARS ON YOUR COLLAR, YOU’VE SOMEHOW MANAGED TO STUMBLE AND SNIVEL YOUR WAY UP THE RANKS, ALL THE WAY TO COLONEL. WELL DONE.”

Colonel Brash slowly lowers the box and looks up at the giant robot quizzically.
“Seriously. Who the hell are you?”

“I AM DR. THERESA PIERCE. DO YOU REMEMBER ME, SIMON? WHAT A SILLY QUESTION. OF COURSE YOU DO.”

“Don’t mess around with me, scumbag.
You can’t be Dr. Pierce. Theresa Pierce is dead.”
Colonel Brash’s eyes narrow. He puffs out his chest and points his finger up at the robot.
“Who are you, really? If you have somehow accessed Dr. Pierce’s old authority codes and are using her name to—”

“I ASSURE YOU THAT I AM THERESA PIERCE
 . . .
”
the R.A.M. interrupts.
“. . . AND YOU’RE RIGHT, SIMON, I AM DEAD. I WAS BETRAYED. CAST ASIDE AND LEFT TO DIE AMONG THE ROSE THORNS LIKE A DOG. BUT I FOUND A WAY BACK, SIMON, AND IT’S TIME TO CORRECT A HORRIBLE MISTAKE.”

“I don’t have time for these lies, whoever you are! Our boys will trace your signal and you’ll be doing twenty years in a military prison before the week is out.”

“OH, SIMON, YOU FOOLISH BOY. YOU WERE ALWAYS SO FULL OF HOT AIR AND NONSENSE. PERHAPS THAT IS WHY IT GIVES ME SO MUCH PLEASURE TO INFORM YOU THAT THE END OF YOUR LIFE WILL BE CONSIDERABLY MORE PERMANENT THAN MINE WAS.”

The R.A.M. raises one of its huge arms and that horrible, ramping-up squeal erupts from the display once more as two sets of rail guns snap up into position.

“No!” I scream, gripping Bit’s arm, watching in horror as our classmates and teachers howl and cower in panic.

Colonel Brash’s eyes go wide. He quickly presses his thumb to the little black box and yells into it,
“Emergency shutdown!”

The silver-gray circles on the R.A.M.’s face instantly blink out and the squeal begins winding down, becoming quieter and quieter until the huge robotic death machine is standing there in blissful silence, as still as a statue, its long green arm jutting down toward the Colonel’s chest like a sinister salute.

“Oh my gawd!” shouts Margaux. “That man could have been killed!”

The boys are still standing on either side of the black-and-yellow line, frozen in their respective spots, mesmerized, all three staring at the screen on the other side of the room. Bit utters a sigh of relief, her huge doe eyes glaring at me from behind her glasses. “Finn, who is Theresa Pierce?” she whispers, “and why does she want to . . . to hurt you?”

“She used to live with us. She died when I was fifteen, and I have no idea why she’s so hell-bent on getting me.”

“But if she’s dead, then how . . . ?”

“She downloaded her mind into the Blackstone mainframe.”

“No, she can’t have. That’s impossible.”

“No, Bit. It’s not.”

“Well, if that crazy woman’s consciousness is in the system, then everyone is in danger. We have to get out of here.”

I nod in complete agreement.

Up on the display, I watch as our teachers and classmates gingerly emerge from behind the grandstand. One of the soldiers is kneeling by Dean, wiping the blood from his face. He looks like he’s coming around. Colonel Brash is standing, fists clenched on his hips, glaring angrily at the tall, motionless shadow being cast by the giant robot on the wide smears of yellow.

“Theresa Pierce, my ass. What a crock. We’ll find you, mister computer hacker.”
He turns to the idle soldier standing nearby.
“You, put that toy back in its box.”

The soldier immediately begins carrying out the Colonel’s orders. With a firm stomp, the metal chair springs up from the platform. The soldier removes his helmet and dark glasses, shoves them under the chair, and takes a seat. He slides the metal headband on and flicks the visor down.

The Colonel looks as mad as hell.
“Get to work on finding out how one of our rivals hacked into this R.A.M.’s systems. I want to know a.s.a.p.! Gaad damn dirty corporate espionage! That’s what it is!”

Colonel Brash quickly composes himself and turns to the group, who all understandably look more than a little shaken.

“I think it’s safe to say that in light of these circumstances, your tour will end early today, as in right this minute. Let me remind you that you’ve all willingly put your genetic signatures on confidentiality agreements, and everything you have seen here must and will remain in the strictest confidence. I hope that, apart from this minor glitch, you have enjoyed your visit. Please sit tight until the tech department gets us out of this blast shield, then Percy will guide you back to your school bus.”

“What about Mr. McCarthy?”
Professor Francis says, gesturing at Dean, who is now sitting up on his elbows and blinking drowsily. He looks a little dazed, but otherwise none the worse for wear.

“He’ll be just fine, but I’m sure Nurse Talbot will be more than happy to check him over before you leave,”
replies Colonel Brash.

It’s my turn to breathe a sigh of relief. Soon we’ll be leaving this hell on earth. Thanks to Jonah, I’m still not sure if I ever want to go home again, but at least we’re getting out of here. I sit back in my chair and watch the display, finally allowing myself to begin gathering my shattered nerves.

Out in Dome Two, the soldier in the chair turns to Colonel Brash.
“Ah . . . excuse me, sir, we need your voice code to reactivate the R.A.M.”

Colonel Brash nods and holds the little black box to his lips.

Professor Francis is standing nearby, nervously wringing his hands.
“Are you sure that’s wise, Colonel? Whoever hacked into that mechanical beast may still be in control of it.”

Colonel Brash snorts and smiles.
“No offense, Professor, but I know what I’m doing. An emergency shutdown completely purges the data buffer and randomizes the neural-access pathways. It’s cut off from any outside systems. I assure you, it’s absolutely safe.”

“But Colonel
—
”

“Professor, the main computer is offline. Probably due to the same terrorist scum that hacked my robot. Now, the sooner I get that mechanoid up and running, the sooner we can use its internal com system to contact the tech department. They will reboot the main computer and we can all get out of here. Sound like a plan?”

Professor Francis gives the Colonel a resigned nod.

“Good. Now, if you would excuse me.”
Colonel Brash clears his throat and speaks clearly into the box in the palm of his hand.
“Authorize. Brash. Code one eight three zero, R-A-M twelve slash one, activate . . . engage.”

A squeal shrieks from the R.A.M. and explodes into a roar as the huge guns on its arm flare alive with blazing white flames. The entire blast shield shatters like a car windscreen, raining an avalanche of jagged, glittering pebbles down over everyone inside. They dive for cover in every direction as Colonel Brash’s body from the waist up is instantly wiped away into a thick red paste and spread over the dirt behind his disembodied legs like raspberry jelly swiped across a slice of whole wheat toast. The Colonel’s torso-less hips and legs flop to the ground, and Bit screams, echoing the terrified screeches of everyone in Dome Two.

The robot’s eyes blink on with that horrible silvery-gray color just like before. A color I will forever see, from this moment on, as the color of death.

The soldier at the R.A.M.’s feet shakes the pebbles of glass from his sleeves and quickly leaps into action, diving to the side into an agile forward roll. He springs up onto his boots and takes off in a sprint across the dirt arena. But there’s nowhere to go. I don’t even think
he
knows where he’s running. Panic can do that to a person. The giant mech does a half-turn, waves its arm in his direction, and fires a short crackling burst of rounds. The soldier’s helmet and head disappear in a red mist as his body stumbles forward and drops onto the dirt, tumbling along the ground in a tangled heap of loose dead limbs.

The droning mechanized hum of the robot can be heard sporadically in the brief pauses between the panicked screams of our teachers and classmates as they retreat to the grandstand, the only thing in the arena to hide behind. Professor Francis grabs Dean and drags him to his feet by the scruff of his school uniform, hauling him with all his might back toward the others.

The R.A.M. swivels around and its gaze drops down upon the soldier in the chair. He flicks the visor up and stares at the towering robot in mesmerized shock, the edges of his eyes quivering over the top of his camo face mask.