Part 21 (2/2)

After the first turn, it was insanity. The Monks came from all directions-behind us, in front of us, out from hidden doors and once even down from the ceiling. They were incoherent, firing randomly and shouting different things, in different languages, and sometimes didn't even seem to notice us-which didn't matter when they entered shooting the f.u.c.king place up, chips of concrete stinging my eyes and bullets sizzling past my ears. Still, the strange cheer that had taken hold of me persisted, and I found myself grinning through it all, as Belling shouted curses and Kieth begged for his life at top volume.

At first, because of the crazy way the Monks were tearing a.s.s around the complex, our work was easy enough. Most of them just ran right into our sights, or ran right past us without even a look. Even the ones who took notice of us and tried to share their pain a little were shaky and disoriented. At one point I turned a corner and hands were on me instantly, and I was being lifted up off the floor while Belling and Kieth shouted behind me. I brought my gun up instinctively and planted the muzzle under the chin of the Monk, but found myself staring down into its plastic face, exactly like West's, like Dawson's.

”Make it stop!” the Monk screamed at me, the smooth filtered audio of its voice ragged at the edges as some emotion strained the circuitry. ”Make it stop stop!”

The Monk wasn't even trying to hurt me or protect itself. Killing it would have been easy. I couldn't do it. These were people, people like me, just unluckier. Then again, I was trapped underground with an army of crazy cyborgs and the chief of SSF Internal Affairs, soon to be sole master of the world, as far as I could tell. Maybe the Monks weren't weren't the unlucky ones. the unlucky ones.

Belling didn't see it my way, and put a bullet between its eyes, white coolant splattering my face.

It was slow going, though. After twenty minutes of white-knuckle crawling, we paused at an intersection, Belling and me back-to-back, panting. My gun was hot in my hands as I reloaded and checked the action for the millionth time. I glanced back at Marin, noting thankfully that he'd resumed his dark gla.s.ses.

”Any shortcuts?” I shouted. Behind me, I heard Belling curse and the explosion of his gun.

”Watch your ammo,” Belling advised. ”We can't shoot every f.u.c.king Monk in the known universe.”

Marin shook his head. ”This area was designed to be a single-point-of-weakness. Believe me, if you hadn't had the chief of SSF Internal Affairs here to pull strings, you'd never have gotten this far.”

”f.u.c.k!” I said cheerfully, letting a Monk who streaked across my field of vision pa.s.s unmolested. I was trying to kill only the Monks who posed a threat.

”Cates!” Kieth hissed. ”You okay? You sound wonky, and Ty is worried that wonky wonky will get Ty killed!” will get Ty killed!”

”f.u.c.k you, Mr. Kieth!” I howled. ”I'm having the G.o.dd.a.m.n time time of my of my life life!”

”Cates,” Belling said in a low voice. ”We're not going to make it like this. It's a barrel-shoot, sure, but there's so much fire coming at us we're going to get clipped eventually, and we're going to go dry on ammunition soon.” I felt the recoil through him as he fired again. ”We won't make it this way.”

I was grinning. ”Who says I want want to make it, Mr. Orel?” to make it, Mr. Orel?”

”Then say so and I'll put one in your ear for your f.u.c.king bullets, Mr. Cates. What's the matter? Not enough dead people on your hands today?”

His voice was silky, cultured, and it sank into my ear and yanked, hard. I glanced around at Kieth, who held his gun awkwardly and actually thrust it forward every time he fired it, usually at the three-second-old shadow of a Monk that had just run by. He was hopeless, and obviously terrified, nose vibrating like a hummingbird's wing. Kieth hadn't bargained for this. He hadn't even been in it for the money-his one moment of happiness had been tearing Brother West to pieces, discovering its secrets. But he'd stayed in anyway-for the money, on some level, sure, but for something else. Loyalty, maybe. Honor amongst thieves.

Gatz and Harper flashed through my mind. Milton, Tanner. A man in the backseat of a car. A woman hanging upside down from a fire escape.

”Ah, f.u.c.k,” I breathed. My cheer dried up, the laughter sucked back down into whatever dark hole it had come from. And I thought, I guess I can commit suicide any time. I guess I can commit suicide any time. ”Marin!” I shouted. ”Do you have any communication with the outside?” ”Marin!” I shouted. ”Do you have any communication with the outside?”

”Mr. Cates,” he responded in a scolding tone, ”I've already explained to you that this avatar is the limit of resources-”

”f.u.c.k!” I shouted. ”Mr. Kieth! Do you have any open comm channels?”

A few moments ticked by. A half-dozen Monks ran by, screaming, as if we weren't even there. Belling and I let them go. I tried to keep my eyes everywhere. ”Yes, Mr. Cates!” He shouted back. ”I have a narrowband signal I can use!”

”Marin, do the G.o.dd.a.m.n resources resources you've you've allocated allocated include issuing orders to System Pigs if they're standing right in front of you?” include issuing orders to System Pigs if they're standing right in front of you?”

Marin's response was instant. ”Yes.”

I nodded. ”Kieth: Call the f.u.c.king cops!”

I imagined I could hear the sinews in Belling's neck pop as he turned his head toward me. ”Excuse me?”

”Call 'em, Kieth,” I shouted, as a Monk turned the corner, an electric whine coming from its open mouth, guns in each plastic hand firing indiscriminantly. I whipped my gun up and put a bullet into the back of its throat, knocking it backward.

”Mr. Cates, I should advise you that the surface is in a state similar to that of this complex,” Marin said. ”I am doubtful you will be able to get the SSF's attention-even though you are are the great Avery Cates.” the great Avery Cates.”

Avery Cates, the Gweat and Tewwible, I thought grimly. ”Don't just call the cops, Kieth,” I advised, a slim trickle of the sick happiness returning. ”Have them patch you through to Elias Moje. Tell Colonel Moje that Avery Cates is down here. Tell Colonel Moje that Avery Cates is a very rich man, and he's I thought grimly. ”Don't just call the cops, Kieth,” I advised, a slim trickle of the sick happiness returning. ”Have them patch you through to Elias Moje. Tell Colonel Moje that Avery Cates is down here. Tell Colonel Moje that Avery Cates is a very rich man, and he's laughing laughing at him.” at him.”

For a moment, there was relative quiet, just the endless screaming of Monks, the endless distant and not-so-distant gunfire.

”I hope you know what you're doing,” Belling muttered.

”I'll try, Cates,” Kieth finally shouted back. ”But it isn't going to be easy to just find him.”

”Sure it is,” I corrected him. ”He's looking for me. me. Just shout my name on the SSF feed long enough, and he'll find Just shout my name on the SSF feed long enough, and he'll find you. you.”

”Well this is a wicked f.u.c.king googly,” Belling muttered. ”Extracted by the f.u.c.king System Pigs. I don't know about you, Cates, but I'm not sure I want to make it out of here that bad.”

I was grinning again. ”Like I said, who says I want want to make it, Mr. Belling?” to make it, Mr. Belling?”

x.x.xVI.

Grinding Our Necks under Their s.h.i.+ny, Expensive Boots

00011.

The Stormers came in like they'd been letting the Electric Church use use the complex for a few years and had always intended to come home and clean house. the complex for a few years and had always intended to come home and clean house.

Faced with yet another unmarked steel door, I hunkered down and closed my eyes for a moment. Weariness pulled at me, dripping down like melted wax. It felt as if every joint and muscle in my body had been injected with grit and gla.s.s shards. I opened my eyes and stared at the blank steel door across the hall from us. Moving slowly up one side of the door was a bright light and a thin plume of smoke. It moved steadily, smoothly. For a moment, all the noise and terror was behind us, m.u.f.fled by steel and concrete, and our combined, exhausted panting.

The door burst inward, hitting the floor with sparks and rattling to a stop just a foot away from me. The Stormers poured in through the doorway in cla.s.sic two-by-two formation, their ObFu Kit blending with the walls until they were faint outlines of men.

Through the smoke and dust, Elias Moje strode in like a king, wearing a dark blue suit with pinstripes under a long leather overcoat, his boots s.h.i.+ning in the white light. A gold chain hung from one belt loop, disappearing into one deep pocket. He didn't bother to palm a weapon of his own.

He looked around, a half-smile on his lips. ”h.e.l.lo, rats,” he said amiably. ”Just the four of you, now? Disappointing. I was so hoping to kill you all personally.”

”I'm afraid I have to order you to keep these men alive, Colonel Moje,” Marin said, standing up. ”And to escort us from this location.”

Moje stared. ”Sir,” he said slowly, then paused. ”I just read a Flash Memorandum from you out of the Bogota office.”

”Ordering all SSF personnel to protect key properties in cities against rising or potential riots and disturbances, yes, I know: I auth.o.r.ed it. If you'd like to see what an official rebuke and recommendation of termination for an officer of the SSF looks like, please continue to stand there with that look on your face.”

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