a fully operating vehicle. The frame was bent slightly, but the engine ran just fine. We took it with us. The old, the sick, and the wounded were given first priority to ride in the vehicle. As for the dead, Eliza stayed behind with them to set up a graveyard. It was the least we could do to let the grieving families give their loved one say a proper goodbye. Marcus stayed with her, knowing that she was still wounded and could use an escort to catch up with us. The idea of leaving my wife so far behind rankled. The memory of her gunshot wound was all too fresh. But just as she had to appear strong to keep the group together, I had to act as her equal—and her supporter.

A segment from a story I used to read as a child came to mind. It was about a man forced into military service that rose through the ranks. One day the man had to undergo a training exercise with his platoon that scared him. He underwent the exercise, but he was going to fail his men. Another commander approached and advised the man to check in with his men. He would inspire trust within his platoon and look like he was in control at the same time.

The same lesson applied here. I wasn’t given to speeches of any kind, but I could appear to be in control of the situation. I made myself look useful by walking within the group, attending as best I could to anyone in need. It was easy to take stress away from someone. I spent the remainder of the day’s march carrying loads, offering comfort to the tired, and generally listening more than I spoke.

The cheering started from the front of the pack and rippled backwards. I bid the older woman I was speaking with goodbye and jogged. By the time I could see the front of the caravan, the source of the jubilation came into view as well. Large concrete walls were arranged in a large rectangle. Inside the perimeter were several buildings that looked like they were made out of a mixture of steel and concrete. I didn’t have time to take more of the view in.

Standing at the bottom of the hill was at least a hundred androids, every single one of them armed.

We were cut off.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The android army before us was massive. In addition to the infantry there were at least a dozen vehicles and drones protected the formation on either side. It didn’t take a genius to see that we were well and truly screwed. I signalled for the march to stop. We didn’t have the guns for this. Even the use of one truck was going to be laughable. “Get the wounded and sick off the truck. Now. Put them in the center of the gathering.” Eliza jogged up beside me, sweating and out of breath from catching up to us. “Get everyone back. Any kind of barricades we have, get them in place. As quickly as you can. Children with the sick and wounded.”

“Shit.” Eliza caught a glance of the androids waiting for us and sped off.

My mind raced. If the entire android force raced us at once, we might be able to take down a tenth—maybe a fifth—of them before they reached the unarmed. These androids were different than the intelligent beings we witnessed inside the machine city. They were armed and armored. Thick plates covered the machine’s weak spots and their weapons were military-grade. Clearly the androids had done some manufacturing since our initial encounter. Projectile weapons weren’t going to scratch those beasts. The drones weren’t nearly as protected and didn’t appear to carry weapons. They were eyes and ears for the machines. Taking them out first would be advantageous.

We were going to run out of bullets before we made a dent in the android forces. We needed a weapon of mass destruction. The truck could work. Overcharging the fuel source could produce an explosion big enough to put a dent in the android forces. We had some limited power sources in the form of huge batteries. Rip out the wiring from the battery and connect it to the truck’s ignition. Then puncture the battery and let the resulting thermal event cause the explosion. There was one big issue with the plan. In order to puncture the battery, someone had to be in the truck. Leaving it to the chance of a bullet wasn’t going to work. The good news, if there could be any had from this plan, would be that the poor soul responsible for puncturing the battery would have a few seconds to get away. Equip them with a shield and they might even have a chance of surviving.

I called for the truck and hefted two batteries off a sled. “What are you doing?” I shut my eyes. How could Eliza have warned Marcus that I was going to do something crazy? Surely it couldn’t be my extensive history of risking my life for the sake of scientific experiments…

“Do you really want to know?” I stuck the point of my knife in the seam of the battery’s casing and pried it open. A large lithium cell sat inside, wired to the plugs and ports through a simple logic board. I repeated the same procedure with the other battery.

“Generally, I don’t, but it looks like you’re trying to rig a bomb to the truck so yes, I think I do.” I risked a glance at him. Marcus stood over me with his arms crossed.

“Marcus, I love you, but you need to trust me right now. You go do your job. I’ll do mine. We’ll see each other again.” He started to protest but shut up when he heard the pitch of the android drones change. Time to move.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, son. Let’s send these bastards to hell.” A brief handshake and exchanged grins. Like mother, like

Вы читаете Destiny: Quantic Dreams Book 3
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