Revenge of the Giant Robot Chickens (9 page)

“The C-800. It’s on the move. It’s going for its next target.”

“Who?” I demanded but I’m not sure it could hear me. It seemed to be disabled by panic and it could only squawk stuff out.

“The hotel… bawk… Get to the hotel… bawk… It’s coming… bawk… For the leader.”

“Cody?” I asked, shocked. The chicken shook again.

“Not Cody… bawk… Noah.”

I’ve never sprinted as hard as I did to get back from the warehouse to the hotel that morning. I had to stop the next kidnapping. I got there just in time.

The guard was being changed and lots of people with shock-sticks were hanging about. I grabbed a shock-stick from one of them and yelled at the rest.

“We’ve had news that the Chickenator is coming here. If you see it, try and slow it down. I’m going to find Noah. Stay alert and be careful. Don’t do anything stupid. And can someone find Blake? He’ll know what to do.”

Everyone went scurrying off in different directions and I headed for where Noah should be. I didn’t think any of them could beat the Chickenator. But they could at least slow it down. And if its battery really was a problem then the longer it took to find us, the more chance we had of saving Noah.

I ran into Blake in the corridor. I didn’t have time to properly explain so I just grabbed him and dragged him along.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to dig in his heels, but a quick jerk convinced him otherwise.

“Chickenator,” I panted, out of breath from the long run. “After Noah. We’ve got to hurry.”

He immediately started sprinting, in a slightly different direction from where the meeting had been
yesterday. “He’s this way,” he called back over his head, “in the communications room. Come on.”

As he ran Blake pulled out a whistle from around his neck and started blowing on it. The sharp bursts of sound echoed around the corridors and I could hear the sudden clatter of boots running towards us: his crew had assembled.

We finally arrived at the communications room. I was so wound up and anxious that I was surprised to find the atmosphere in the room so clear and calm. It was the same as usual, just a bunch of people sitting at desks listening to whatever news managed to get through the chickens’ firewall.

Noah looked up as we burst through the door. He could tell right away from the expressions on our faces that something was wrong. “What’s up?” he asked. “What’s gone wrong now?”

“It’s the Chickenator,” I said, grabbing some chairs and stacking them against the door. “It’s here and it’s coming for you.”

Noah didn’t ask if I was sure or how I knew. He just started grabbing the chairs I’d put in front of the door and pulling them away.

“What are you doing?” I asked him. “Are you crazy? We need to lock this place down.”

He shook his head and gestured around at the frightened faces. “No. I’m not putting these guys in danger. If it’s after me then I’ll lead it off and away.”

“Noah, you can’t do that. It’s too fast for you to outrun. I doubt even Billy could do it.” Billy was one
of the fastest runners in Aberdeen and liked racing Catchers on foot.

“Wait a minute, Rayna. He might have a point.”

I turned to Blake and raised my eyebrow questioningly. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Well, look at it like this. If we get out of here and everyone in this room barricades themselves in, the Chickenator will have to break through the door to get in. Once it gets in – and let’s face it, it will – its limited battery life will force it to go after Noah straight away. If we just stay here, it’ll break through our barricade in no time, then it’ll capture Noah and still have enough energy to wreck everything we’ve got.”

I could see his logic.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I turned to the rest of the room. “Once we’re gone, lock the door and put everything you can up against it. Do you understand?”

There were a lot of frightened nodding heads and I felt a stab of pity. They didn’t want to ever fight a chicken. That’s why they’d signed up for communications duty in the first place. I took a moment to curse the chickens for making us all live in fear.

“Come on then,” I called, taking Noah by the arm. “Do you have a plan or should we just run blindly through the hotel halls?”

“There’s a basement down here where we can hide, and tunnels beyond it. The Chickenator will have to run through most of the hotel to find us. We’ll be able to see it coming.”

Blake nodded. “Works for me. Look, Rayna, how do
you know the Chickenator is after Noah? Is this some other weird test?”

I looked at Blake sidelong. “Believe me, this isn’t a test. It’s really coming. I’ve got information that tells me.”

I could hear how similar to Hazel I sounded and I quietly chuckled to myself. I still wasn’t sure whether I’d tell anyone about Clucky the chicken. No matter what Hazel said or did, I don’t think I’d ever fully trust it. But for the moment I had to.

Just then the lights flickered and went out. I stopped and someone ran into me from behind. “Ooof,” I said. “Watch where you’re going.”

“I would,” Blake said, “but I can’t actually see.”

We all dug out our head torches and put them on, lighting the path ahead of us slightly. I’d never known the lights to go off like this before. It was day outside but with no windows the corridors were dark around us. There could only be one answer.

“It’s the Chickenator,” I muttered. “It’s here.”

Blake and the rest of his group activated their shock-sticks, shining their soft blue light around us. I still had the one I’d grabbed in the foyer, and one of Blake’s group handed a spare one to Noah. “Here you go.” Now we were all armed.

“Let’s go,” I said, striding towards the nearest stairwell and heading downwards. But before the door had even swung closed behind us, I heard the sound of crashing wood and a scream rent the air. I shuddered. The chicken must have reached the communications room,
moving fast after cutting out the lights. It had probably expected the sudden darkness to cause confusion, giving it an advantage. If we hadn’t been warned then it would have succeeded. I nodded to myself. It seemed Clucky the chicken had certainly done us a favour.

We reached the bottom of the stairs and headed off. While the layout of the hotel above was logical, the basement was a warren of half-assembled burrows and dead-end corridors.

Noah led the way. “I had the gang working down here in secret,” he told me quietly, “while we all still lived in the train station. We knocked in a few walls here and there, to make a secret bunker if we got attacked.”

I shushed him into silence. “Good plan but don’t talk so loudly.” Sound tended to echo underground and I didn’t want our position given away.

He nodded and zipped his lips. I smiled at him and made sure we were all sticking close.

Then I noticed one of Blake’s group was missing. I hurried up to him. “Have we lost someone already?” I hissed.

Blake snorted. “You’re not that observant, are you? I stationed him by the door, so the chicken will have to get past him first.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if we all faced it together?”

He shook his head. “Nope. If we fight it one at a time we’ll slow it down. Each of us will hold it for as long as possible, wearing out its battery and warning the next in line that it’s coming. Then when it gets to Noah it’ll
be weaker and we’ll be able to beat it.”

In the next moment his words were confirmed. The sound of brave battle cries came bolting down the corridor. I could hear slamming and a frustrated screech that only a chicken could have made. The Chickenator had followed us, and Blake’s guy was engaging it.

The fighting went on for long minutes as we hurried on. The battle must have been fierce. But finally the cries and squawks ceased and I knew that Blake’s guy must have fallen.

The Chickenator was coming for us.

“Right, formation delta,” Blake said as we kept hurrying along. “Hailey and Stuart, hold it off. Everyone else keep quiet or it will hear us. And dim those lights. It might not know which way we’ve come.”

The group must have practised for this moment because they all spread out in a prearranged formation. Most went to the back and some hurried to the front to cover Noah. Two dropped back and waited in the corridor, extinguishing both their torches and their glowing shock-sticks. Hopefully that would allow them to get the drop on the chicken. As soon as our little bubble of light moved on, they were lost to the darkness. I wished them well but I knew that, just like the guy before them, they weren’t there to win, only to stall.

Everything was quiet as we hurried along, slower than before now that our lights were dimmed. The Chickenator came across the next group after a few minutes, just as we were ducking through a hole
someone had hacked into the wall. The screams of battle echoed eerily around us as we pressed forward. I shivered, not liking to think how it must feel to stand there in the dark, knowing that something was coming for you – something you couldn’t beat.

“Hailey and Stuart should hold it off for a while,” Blake whispered. “They’ve got some surprises planned.”

Blake was right. I swore I could hear something like firecrackers echoing around me.

But the ferocious noise of their heroic stand died eventually and I knew that once again we were being tracked. Blake had already nodded to another member of the group. “You’re up, Angus. Bet you only last five minutes.”

Angus snorted. “If I last any less than ten I owe you some chocolate.”

“Done.” Blake clapped him on the shoulder and started walking. Angus stopped by the hole in the wall, arm raised and shock-stick glowing merrily. I guessed he planned to ambush the chicken as it came through.

Again the darkness swallowed him as we hurried along, but all too soon we heard yelling behind us. I frowned, trying to make out what Angus was saying over the clanks of battering metal. He appeared to be singing along with the fight. I shook my head. I will say it once again: completely crazy.

“Angus likes singing in a fight. Says it gives him rhythm,” Blake explained.

“Is that so?” Noah replied casually, while his eyes darted all over the walls. “What’s he singing right now?”

I paused for a second, cocking my head to the side and listening. “Chick, chick, chick, chick, chicken. Lay a little egg for me.”

Noah’s teeth gleamed white in the darkness when he grinned.

Angus managed to hold that wall for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes while we hurried deeper and deeper through the labyrinth of underground tunnels. I wasn’t sure if the chicken could even catch us up at this point. Surely its battery must be getting low? Maybe Angus would hold and we’d be able to escape?

The layout of the underground tunnels did odd things to the sound around us. At times it sounded like we were miles away from the fighting. At others they could have been right around the corner. So when Angus’s voice finally fell silent I wondered if we’d just moved out of range. Blake obviously thought the same thing because he held up his hand, motioning us to a stop. We paused and looked at him. He backtracked a bit, listened for a while then came hurrying back. With a sharp gesture he ushered us forward.

He didn’t say anything, but I could tell by the grave expression on his face: Angus had fallen.

We came to a crossroads where a number of tunnels snaked away in different directions.

“Connie. Andrea. Good luck.” At Blake’s words the last two people watching our backs slipped away. They moved down different corridors and stood, crouched and ready. They didn’t extinguish their torches or shock-sticks. They obviously meant to confuse the chicken, make it wonder which way we’d gone. I hurried
on with the others, looking back and hoping their tactic would work.

There were only five of us now: Noah, Blake, myself, and the two guarding Noah from the front. I began to feel hopeful as we walked for a while hearing nothing behind us. Maybe the chicken had got lost. Maybe it had left to recharge. It must have been chasing us for more than an hour and we’d been holding it back at every moment we could. Surely it wouldn’t have much more power?

But before my hopes could be raised too far I heard yells behind us and knew that the last of our rear guards had engaged the enemy.

“It’s just us now,” Blake muttered and lengthened his stride. “Let’s put some distance between us and that beast.”

As the sounds of fighting wore on, we charged ahead, sprinting now.

And then suddenly the Chickenator was in front of us.

Maybe it knew a better route through the underground maze. Maybe it was just too fast for us. Whatever, it didn’t really matter at this point. All that mattered was that it was there, ahead of us, its chest cavity already open and waiting.

That would probably have been the end of Noah if not for his two guards. He was running too fast to stop; even as I watched him try I knew he wouldn’t be able to. He would run straight into that dark hollow, then it would snap shut and he’d be gone. But instead
of slowing down, his guards accelerated, their head torches blossoming into bright burning light. The chicken recoiled from the sudden glare, flinching away. One of the guards leapt forward, planting both feet in a flying kick that snapped into the chicken’s chest. He rolled away as his partner backed him up, swinging his shock-stick.

The chicken was driven back, trying desperately to close its chest. I thought that would be it; that would be how we’d defeat it. But before I could call out, the Chickenator had already acted, slamming its chest shut. I could hear bolts shifting behind its chest plate, locking it into place. The chance was lost. Now we’d just have to fight it the old-fashioned way.

The two guards, probably brothers or old best friends, stood side by side. By our bad luck or the chicken’s good planning, we’d been caught in a wide section of tunnel, making it hard to block the way to Noah.

“Come on,” Blake growled as he ran forward to reinforce the line. I joined him. I looked behind me and held out a hand to stop Noah following. He stopped, though he didn’t look happy about it. I guess I’d have felt the same if I was stopped from helping the people defending me.

“We can hold it off a little bit longer. Come on, you bucket of fried chicken! Are you just going to stand there or are we going to dance?” yelled Blake.

We formed a tight wedge, our shock-sticks blazing, as the Chickenator rushed us. It seemed slightly slower this time and I was sure I could see nicks and dents in
its armour that hadn’t been there before. Obviously the fight hadn’t gone all its own way. Getting this far had cost it, maybe dearly, just as we’d hoped it would. Of course that just made it even more desperate to get its prize.

In my head I could hear a little clock ticking, counting down the seconds or minutes until the chicken would have to pull out. It had to factor in the time it would take to get back to the Catchers, who were probably waiting outside to transport the Chickenator back to their headquarters. That had to be soon. We just had to hold it at bay.

And we were managing. The tunnel might have been wide compared to others but it was still narrow enough to limit the chicken’s options. It couldn’t go around us and it couldn’t go over. So it had to go through us. And every time it tried, it met the glowing force of our shock-sticks. Blake snarled and fought, either flinging insults at it or giving us advice.

“Time your strikes, people. If we hit it together, we hurt it.”

Again and again it charged, and again and again we held it back. We worked as a team, some of us blocking its strikes, while others attacked. Blake was right: it could clearly feel the impact of four shock-sticks at the same time, even through its armour.

Finally it stopped, and just stood there, looking at us with oddly questioning eyes. Our head torches and shock-sticks lit it brightly. Standing there like that, totally fearless, it struck me how weird it was that
we were fighting a giant metal chicken, painted black with mad green eyes. It was beautifully made and well formed. Even though I hated it I could admire the craftsmanship that had gone into making it.

Blake growled, “Either fight us or run away. We can do this all day.”

The chicken stared at us for a moment longer, obviously considering its next move. I imagined the little live chicken in the cockpit of the machine, looking at all the gauges, assessing the damage and figuring out a way around us. Maybe it was checking the power levels and realising it couldn’t go on any longer.

Finally it came to a decision. It turned away and sped off into the darkness.

There was a quick quiet moment of shock. I don’t believe any of us actually thought it was gone. Surely this was some trick. We couldn’t be that lucky. Could we?

Eventually we began to give a ragged cheer. The thing wasn’t coming back. We’d done it. We’d driven it off. Noah was safe.

Then came the sound of footsteps, impossibly fast. Closer and closer they got, and staring into the darkness I was able to make out two rapidly approaching green glowing lights: its eyes.

“Brace yourselves,” Blake roared.

We scrambled together and stood firm, shoulder to shoulder, shock-sticks held out before us.

Which did no good whatsoever. The chicken just
ploughed through us all, not even slowing down, its wings held out in front of it like enormous shields. I felt a juddering down my arms as I was thrown back and realised that my shock-stick had broken.

I lay there, stunned and unable to move. The edges of my vision grew black but I wasn’t sure if I was about to fall unconscious or if my head torch had just been broken.

Then the chicken loomed over me. It seemed to limp slightly and one look at its face told me it was angry. More than angry it was furious that we’d made it fight so hard. Children.

A small smile creased my lips. That was a start: one small victory.

It bent over me, its beak raised viciously. I realised it was about to strike me and I knew that would hurt. It might even break one of my arms. I’d be stuck in the hospital, in incredible pain and unable to fight against the chickens. That was possibly the worst thing it could do to me. I tried to roll away but the blow had knocked me silly. Even with all my effort I couldn’t get my arms to move.

I was defenceless.

The Chickenator looked me right in the eye, forcing me to connect with those strange green lights. Then it very deliberately raised its clawed foot and held it above my leg.

“Stop.” The voice came from behind me and, though I couldn’t see him, I recognised the voice as Noah’s. He walked forwards into my field of view and placed a
hand against the chicken, pushing it firmly backwards.

No!
I tried to scream out. But the words wouldn’t come.
Don’t do this,  Noah. Start running. If I distract it, you can still get away. Run and hide and leave me to my fate
.

But Noah wouldn’t do it. Noah couldn’t do it. That’s why he’d managed, despite not being a great fighter, to become the leader of one of the largest groups in Aberdeen; and why he’d maintained enough power to check Cody when he went too far. Noah was compassionate and Noah cared. He was about as able to walk away from helping someone as he was able to fly.

“You’re here for me. Well, you’ve got me. Just take me without hurting any of the others. I won’t even struggle. I promise.”

The chicken looked at Noah and its chest slid open. It wasn’t the smooth slide I’d seen before. No doubt about it, we’d damaged it. That was something to hold on to. Noah took a step towards the Chickenator and turned around, preparing to back into it.

“N-n-n-n-n…” I said, trying to say his name, but I felt like a computer that had suffered an unexpected shutdown. My programmes hadn’t finished loading up yet. Some of them hadn’t even started.

He knew what I was trying to say. He looked down at me and smiled.

“Take care, Rayna. And keep up the fight.” Then he stepped backwards and the chest closed over his face. The chicken glared at me, raised one leg then turned
and sped away. In a moment it was gone.

I lay still on the floor, unable to move and not wanting to. That was it. We’d failed.

Another council member, and one of my closest friends, Noah, had been taken.