Toxic (10 page)

He stopped above a building with a destroyed roof invaded by wild vegetation. From that height, he benefited from an excellent point of view of the whole neighborhood, based on the principle that the creature would travel on the surface. Two streets further down, he made out a group of spoiled products, apparently a large amount to walk around this neighborhood. The setting sun made operations more complicated. The human had taken his chance at the right time. The piercing sun offered back-lighted areas and possible hiding spots behind beams or walls. He was probably hidden somewhere down there. The tunnels were also a good alternative, though not as quick. Naakrit had made sure that he didn't have any equipment. Not even a flashlight. Never mind a gun. So, going alone through an underground tunnel knowing the area to be teeming with infected creatures seemed to him to be beyond the abilities of the human. He would be hiding on the surface.

The reptilian concentrated. His round and tilted green eyes swept along a large visual area. He spotted a fleeting shadow on his right. He made a rotation of around one hundred degrees to rest above it. The form had disappeared, but he felt it. He waited for around a minute and... it moved again.

The low frequency modulations of his winger reached him. He had also just locked on to him.

“
Kjet, toshh'naa
!” whistled Naakrit.

The mercenary obeyed his orders to wait. He remained ready to intercept him or, on command, to transform the pillar which the Russian was hiding behind into incandescent magma. The Primark told him his plan. Kjet climbed several meters and then flew in the direction of the group of infected creatures that he had spotted close by. He flew by slowly to get them excited.

The shadow moved once again, and took refuge behind a metal container with wheels, at the far end of an alley. Naakrit took on a new position, with an angle which would make the Russian feel safe and think that he could really succeed in his stupid bet. His welcome was waiting for him at the end of the street. The placement of the terrain, a group of low buildings where humans stocked their vehicles, offered him a chance – albeit tiny – to “disappear.” If he could get there.

The Russian came out of his pathetic hiding spot, determined to make a run for it. Naakrit watched him run along the brick wall. The path, blocked by debris, provided him with many places to hide or to crouch down and to disappear in the case of an unpleasant encounter. The further he advanced, encouraged by the absence of danger, the more he rushed towards the exit. It was stretching out its arms to embrace him.

His path stopped suddenly. About twenty meters away, a gangly shadow appeared, then a second one, a third one... Naakrit didn't intervene. The horde didn't take long to spot its welcome and isolated prey. The twitchy movements got faster and became electrified in a strange ballet of jerky gestures. After a moment of hesitation, the Russian got back on his way.

“
Kjet
!
Vaz' séotoss' ne
.”

The winger appeared on top of him and deployed an active field barrier between Oleg and the infected. During this time, Naakrit positioned himself at the other end. The Russian came hurtling in front of him. His stupefied features looked like those of an animal of his world, cornered, with his large eyes fixed on the predator.

“You haven't considered the consequences of your stupid actions.”

“
Niet
! I... It's not what you think.”

“Pffft! You had no chance in succeeding.”

The reptilian approached and walked around the human.

“I was looking for information to bring to you,” the latter justified.

“What information?”

It didn't really matter what story he was counting on to get out of this. Naakrit had already made his decision. As for the information, it was always good to take it.

“Talk!”

“The infected... There's a cure.”

The Primark interrupted him. “An antidote for the virus?”

“
Da
!”

Was he telling the truth? It would be worth it to listen to him if he really had a way to transform seven and a half billion spoiled units into healthy products.

“I'm listening to you.”

“We had an agreement. I want to live and to be free again.”

“It’ll be honored. Tell me about the cure.”

“I don't know how it works. I'm telling you again; I'm just a technician.”

Naakrit drew his vibroblade as a sign of discontent.

“But I know where it is: at Site B. I heard it from one of the scientists from level five.”

“You don't have anything else to tell me?”

The human shook his head nervously.

The reptilian came right up to him. He looked at him with such intensity that Oleg recoiled.

“Where is this Site B?”

“I... have no idea.”

He raised his arm, keeping his fingers folded, then raised one claw. The mercenary changed the field so that it allowed one sole creature to cross into it while keeping the others at bay. She immediately whipped towards her prey. She stretched her upper limbs while shaking her clawed hands, whose finger bones had been eaten away.

“
Niet, Niet
!” cried Oleg. “I don't know where Site B is, I swear! We had a deal!” he repeated in a devastated voice.

“Oh! But you'll live, you'll go where you think is good.”

“
Niet
!”

“If you're telling the truth and an antidote really exists, then you have nothing to fear. One day you'll be cured as well as the other billions of members of your species.”

“
Niet
!”

The infected woman spotted his jugular, but the Russian stopped her with a reflexive gesture and in the end, her reddened teeth closed around his forearm, which she bit off a piece of. Oleg screamed and fell down on the floor. Right when she was preparing her second attack, the creature’s head was blasted from its neck. The explosion of hemoglobin sprayed his living face. His dilated pupils stood out like rings of terror against his scarlet skin.

Naakrit deactivated his vibroblade and leaned towards the Russian. “In a short time, you're going to join your new friends. Until that time, the field will keep them back long enough for your transformation to take place. Look at them; they look impatient to welcome you. I’m offering you an existence of simple pleasures, an unconditional liberty.”

The human screamed once again. The reptilian initiated his agrav repulsors and flew away.

The dock, strewn with boxes and abandoned equipment, betrayed a hasty departure. Oleg's version didn't fit with the material facts. The scene closely resembled a disorganized evacuation and the Russian must have been informed of it. If he had lied, the information must have been important enough for him to take the risk.

Jave continued his inspection up to the end of the concrete pier. Beyond, the river waters reflected the bloody hues of the sunset. In front of him, the urban geometry, with its horizontal and vertical lines, stretched along the bank.

The Russian had been captured on the other side, on a highway filled with refugees, by a group of tracker drones.
Why had he followed an exposed itinerary instead of fleeing with his collaborators?

Behind him, he felt a movement.

Naakrit had just landed. He didn't bring good news.

“We arrived too late.”

“What happened to him?”

“Spoiled products found him before us.”

Jave turned around. “That's unfortunate. Clearly, light still needs to be shed on parts of his story.”

“Most likely. Humans can reveal themselves to be just as crafty as merchant princes.”

The retort contained an insinuation which didn't pass him by. The emissary didn't show sign of it and contented himself with examining the supplies strewn across the ground. It was mostly electrical material, metal and glass articles, tools and utensils whose use he wasn't aware of, notebooks and many sheets of paper. What surprised him, on the other hand, was the absence of computers or electronic devices. The EMP bombs had fried the circuits and chips, rendering the most sophisticated human weapons harmless. While they were at it, their civilization fell apart. In a fraction of a second.

Chaos had overtaken the planet, including this dock.

Jave stopped his inspection, intrigued by the markings on a box: a frame below a number associated with some sort of nomenclature.
Site C
, he read.

Naakrit joined him. “This term might not mean anything.”

The Lynian remained unmoved. “Every detail takes up a specific place in the chart of events. It tells a part of the story.”

“And what does this one here reveal?”

“That a Site A and a Site B exist, based on their writing.”

“The reptilian didn't let anything show. “Humans love to classify things and use many types of terminology, sometimes without meaning.”

“Like the civilizations of the Collective. The use of complex taxonomy is a feature of evolved races.”

The mercenary’s green eyes grew wide suddenly.
Yes, he dares to make the comparison.

“You didn't attack this place?”

“No. The main cities weren't a part of our preventive strike plan. Too much of a risk for the merchandise, as it was particularly concentrated there.”

“Regardless,” the emissary affirmed, pointing out marks and impact holes, “they fought here.”

“Not against our drones. Against spoiled products?”

“Possibly.”

Shortly afterwards, the Primark called the T-J which appeared above them. They went back into the cargo hold and set off before nightfall.

Back in Dubai, Naakrit secluded himself in a holosphere in the control room. His eight fingers flickered across the information landscape. He stopped when he found what he was looking for. Three-dimensional views of New York, taken from a spy drone in orbit, encompassed the depth of the projection. In a sure gesture, he separated a shot and effectuated a breath-taking drop until reaching a rectangle framing the part of the dock where he had been a few hours earlier. Putting his request into the records of the database, the images passed by on fast-forward. He raised his claw and the progression stopped on the image of a boat at the quay, the location of an important activity. He made out vehicles driven by military personnel.

It dated to three months after the invasion.

His drones nabbed products by the ten thousand in that epoch, he remembered. In those providential times, this type of insignificant event had been overlooked, judged to be useless. The only thing that counted was the supply of the manufacturing chain, which was working at full capacity in that moment.

The following shots revealed black and white smoke, as well as evidence of combat. The boat had disappeared. He didn't have proof of its departure. Infrared images gave evidence of an intense emission of heat, followed by a fire. On that point, at least, the human hadn't lied.
As for the rest, the emissary was right
, Naakrit told himself.

Each detail told a story. Or rather, its absence.

When he sent a request on that particular ship, he didn't get any results among the millions of references in the tactical database. He searched the tera-servers without any success either. They contained a complete copy of that “internet” which connected the billions of machines and objects, today useless artifacts of an extinguished civilization. After saving a copy, the mercenaries had savagely cut its current. The planet-wide short circuit hadn't spared a single electronic device.

“Site B... Hmmm!”

The boat's features, its dimensions deducted from the rare images available, were transmitted to the trackers on duty. His intuition told him that this structure was floating somewhere in this world, and on board, the solution to his problems.

E
ven though he was missing almost everything on board his board, Hector nonetheless possessed a treasure which, over the course of the years, was becoming more and more rare: an exceptional Colombian Arabica. Elaine clasped the bowl with both hands. The nectar exalted her sense of smell and her taste buds. While civilization was disintegrating, she was savoring one of the best coffees in her life, her eyes turned towards the fog banks which covered the coastline. The white smoke stretched above a sea of oil, only disturbed by the tiny eddies in the hull's wake.

“The other side looks less peaceful,” declared a masculine voice which she recognized.

Masters was also a morning person, she noted. Some careers left marks on organisms, customs which even the end of the world couldn't turn upside down. Not completely, in any case.

“Where do you plan on going once you’re on land?”

The colonel sat down at her side. “I will try to get in contact with the possible remains of our armed forces.”

“Do you think that some sort of resistance exists?”

She brought her hot beverage to her mouth and took a sip.

“I don't know. The survivors are stuck between the anvil of the infected and the hammer of the aliens. It's also become difficult to coordinate with each other without technology. Organizing a simple meeting between two distant individuals has become a feat.”