floor.
“Hold on!”
The back lot led to a side street through a short connector, and I aimed for it. Tires spun in the snow, then we lurched forward. Faces flashed in the headlights before they got creamed against the grille and went under.
Metal and glass popped as we clipped a parked car and pushed out onto the street. There were more of them out there, maybe hundreds. They swarmed us, piling up as we smashed through. At the main road, I smashed the nose of a passing car, and bodies tumbled into the street as I hit the brakes.
They climbed over the grille and onto the hood. Vika fired the rifle again as I picked up speed and rolled over them. A few slipped off, but one hung on the driver’s-side mirror. I jerked the wheel, and it was scraped off as I swiped a parked car.
“Shit!”
Horns blared, and I felt the rifle’s muzzle flash on the side of my face. Tires squealed and the truck started to slide. We spun out, and metal and glass crunched as we hit something hard.
“Goddamn it!”
Something hit the driver’s-side window. Bodies slammed against the truck and hands tried to pull the doors open. Another one jumped on the hood and stomped down on the windshield. I punched the gas again and broke out of the snowbank. Bodies thumped under the tires as I gunned it down the street. Soldiers scrambled, firing into the crowd but there were too many of them.
Up ahead, way in the distance, I saw the smoke. The spot where the CMC Tower used to be was nothing but black smoke that rolled down the streets and swallowed up everything. Mobs of people ran to try to get out of the way of it, and more revivors were coming. The CMC was southwest of the Stillwell compound. I pulled up the GPS and plotted a route to the north gate.
“They’ll try and follow,” I said. “I’m going to lead them off the base!”
I cut the wheel again and took a side street toward the compound’s main strip. With the smoke in our rearview mirror I watched as the bodies fell off behind us, still running in our direction.
Faye Dasalia—Heinlein Industries, Test Facility Five
The revivor stood stone still, the metal canister clutched to its body. Wind sheared across the tarmac, whipping its clothes around it.
“Faye, what are you doing?” MacReady asked.
“It wasn’t me,” I said. Someone else was in my head. They’d shunted their way into my command node and put a hold on my communications.
“Faye—”
“I fucking knew it,” a voice said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ang Chen step through the doorway, a pistol clutched in one hand. His eyes moved from me to MacReady, then back.
MacReady held up his hands and stepped forward, but stopped when Ang pointed the gun at his chest.
“Ang—”
“You were overruled, Bob. You should have stayed out of it.”
“Chen, he destroyed the CMC Tower,” MacReady said. “He’s going to—”
“You don’t know what’s at stake,” Ang said. His voice was still calm, but his eyes had grown wide. The hot mass of his heart thudded in his chest.
“Ang, please,” MacReady said, as he took another step. “Think about—”
The gun boomed as Ang fired a single shot. MacReady staggered back and dropped the electronic pad to the floor. He stared down at his side, where blood had begun to spread through his shirt.
Ang aimed to fire again, and MacReady lunged. Not toward Ang, but toward me. His fingers, warm with blood, touched my neck, and I felt the metal rod slide out of the back of my head. The control lock winked out, and impulses began to flow back down the length of my spine. My system tree reestablished. I could move again.
Ang fired. The bullet shattered through MacReady’s front teeth, then exploded out through the back of his neck. His body fell against the wall behind him, then collapsed onto the floor. Chen stood, still pointing the gun, as smoke drifted slowly out of the barrel.
“I know what’s at stake,” I told him.
Chen’s eyes flicked to me and stared. “Shut up,” he said.
“I know what they did to me—”
“So do I!” he barked. “They got to me too, and I know it now! I know everything! Every goddamned thing!”
The gun shook in his fist as he held it out. The network of veins stood out under his skin, like spiderwebs of warm light, and I knew he was very close to the edge. I realized then that when he said he knew, he meant he really did know; his memories had returned. Somehow, Fawkes had found a way to return them while still leaving him alive.
Whatever happened to him, whatever he’d done and been made to forget, he’d come face-to-face with it. Whatever it was, he couldn’t accept it. Without a revivor’s disconnectedness, he was losing control.
“Fawkes woke you,” I said, and I could see it was true. “How—”
“Shut up!” He stepped forward and stuck the gun in my face. He took two steps toward me, and the end of the barrel pushed into my cheek.
I fired the bayonet and struck Ang’s gun hand with it. The pistol went off near my ear, as blood spurted from the notch cut in his wrist. He staggered back, blood seeping through his shirt cuff. Blood dripped down onto the floor as he clutched his wounded arm. He raised the gun again, but he couldn’t hold it straight.
Suddenly, something forced him out of my head, and the communications block was released. The revivor connections came back online. When he realized what happened, Ang’s eyes widened.
“Who did that?” he whispered. “Who else is helping you?”
Ang transferred the gun to his left hand and took aim. He followed me as I circled the table and fired a single shot that went wild. I could sense him digging into my systems, trying to reestablish the override. I pointed my own gun in his direction.
“Drop that connection,” he said.
The remote unit carried the canister across the Pratsky Building, where the last revivor in the chain waited down in a darkened stairwell. I watched them make eye contact with each other, meeting halfway on the stairs. The last unit accepted the canister, then turned and made its way down.
Both guns went off, and a bullet struck my chest. I grazed Ang’s shoulder as he fired again, punching through my right elbow. It triggered the mechanics in my forearm, causing it to split apart. The pistol flipped free from my hand and spun across the floor.
I ducked under the table as the final revivor picked up speed down a long corridor and into the main climate- control center. I swung the bayonet and slashed Ang’s hamstring. He screamed, and I heard his gun thump down onto the table above me.
I stood and saw him reel, hopping on one foot. He lunged for his weapon but stumbled and fell. I pulled the bayonet back, preparing to deliver the killing blow, when Samuel Fawkes appeared in the doorway.
Two soldiers followed him in. They aimed their rifles at me.
“Stop,” Fawkes said. His eyes glowed flatly in the dim light. Ang looked back, his face dark. A vein pulsed at his neck. Three more revivors filed in from behind Fawkes and took positions around him. They all had automatic rifles at the ready.
“Pick up your gun, Mr. Chen.”
He reached across the table, smearing blood, and recovered the weapon. He hopped back, and one of the revivors held him steady.
