The Empties (The Glitches Series Book 2) Page 4

  I am trying to help, I remind myself. What we’re doing is important, and that’s enough, right now, to spur me forward.

  Though we can link up just about anywhere, I’ve picked a place that’s a little ways away. This is practical only because we don’t want the AI to have any ideas where we’ve moved to.

  I got everyone into trouble before by giving away our location; I won’t do it again.

  As we walk, Skye jogs a little to come up and join me. For a minute, we walk in silence. She’s the one to break it first. “Bird seems a little irritated lately.”

  I shrug in response.

  “I think she’s just upset about losing people, you know?”

  Still, I remain silent. It’s twilight now, the last of the sun’s light almost completely gone. Based on the scouting mission reports, we should be nearby. Another ten, fifteen minutes to walk. This is what I think of so that I don’t have to think of Bird or anything else. It’s much easier.

  But Skye continues on, of course, oblivious to my discomfort. “They’re all much closer than we are—the clans, I mean. So, losing even one person is really bad. Do you remember Chandra? And Marq? They died and we barely even noticed they were gone.” She pauses and I risk a quick look at her. Her face is pointed down, her blonde hair sliding over one shoulder. I can’t really see much of her expression, but I can tell it’s not happy.

  “We weren’t really friends,” I remind her briskly, despite not wanting to join the conversation. “What were we supposed to feel?”

  This isn’t what Skye wants to hear, I can tell, because she looks up at me and her face falls a little. “We should have been friends, or comrades or something. We should have been closer.”

  I don’t know what to say to this, and I’m grateful when I see the paneling up ahead that marks our link-up. I motion for the others to hurry up; we need to set up quickly.

  The others will hide out and keep guard while I go inside the AI’s mainframe. That way there will be someone watching my back on the outside at least. I hope to find water at the very least, but if there are any antibiotics or medicines, I’ll try to grab those, too.

  There isn’t a lot that we’ve brought with us, but we have some gear. Bags with weapons—some designed by us, some stolen from the drones—and some meager supplies.

  “I want two by that outcropping of rocks,” I order, pointing to the left of the panel where Skye and I will connect to the AI’s mainframe. “The other three, split up. I want one over there—” I motion towards a sloping hill that I know has a ledge halfway down, “—and another by the trunk, and a third behind the panel, just in case.”

  The Rogues comply quickly, though I can tell from Bird’s unhappy look that she doesn’t appreciate me shouting out orders to everyone.

  She can deal with it, I think meanly. No one made her come.

  “What about me?” she asks when Skye and I start moving towards the panel. I give her an assessing look, and then decide.

  “Stay by us. The AI will think it’s weird that no one’s here with us if we’re in there alone,” I tell her seriously. It’s not my first choice, but it’ll do.

  Bird clenches and unclenches her teeth, and then tells me, “Fine. But you two could be just a couple of Glitches out in the desert. That’s not so weird. In fact, that’s what most of you do.” Her eyes are bright despite the darkness as they glare at me, making me uncomfortable and edgy. I hear the rest of her implied words in my head, though she doesn’t speak them. That’s what you should do. Wolf is the only reason you’re a part of our clan at all, and having you around is a big mistake.

  Finally, she turns away and I let out a whoosh of air that I didn’t realize I was holding. She plops down at the side of the paneling, leaning her back against a nearby rock. My eyes linger on her momentarily, but then I join Skye by the panel.

  “I wish you guys weren’t fighting,” she tells me in a small voice, not looking up at me.

  “We were never exactly friends,” I remind her. “She just put up with me before.”

  “Maybe,” is all she says.

  I wait until all of the Rogues have found their places. Coral and Sidewinder are paired up by the rocks, Lizzie has slumped over the side of the hill into a crouch, and Mole, the short girl with curly brown pigtails pulled off to either side of her face, has made a point of all but completely disappearing beside the trunk of a half-dead tree. It’s an impressive feat, I admit silently to myself. Bird settles herself more firmly against her rock, pointedly not looking at us.

  When they’re all settled in and mostly hidden, I turn to Skye. “Are you ready?” I’m a little nervous, mostly because I wish Skye weren’t here. It would be easier if it were just me, though I would never tell her that.

  She looks up at me and smiles weakly. She’s not quite the same anymore—not since Raj. Now she’s timid and shy and not the least bit interested in hacking or anything else. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  I push lingering thoughts of her and of Raj aside. This is a mission, and I need to focus. I place my palm flat against the panel, feeling the familiar pinpricks as they insert themselves into my palm. My eyes close and, when I open them a second later, I see the familiar virtual world of the AI. The room is blue with soft lighting lining the edges of it. On either side of me are filing cabinets, representations of where things are kept, though of course they’re virtual, like everything else. Normally, these are the focus of our scavenging missions, but tonight that’s a farce. We’re not after supplies. We’re after drones.

  “Should we look for water?” Skye asks uncertainly.

  I nod. “Yeah. Water and seeds, both.”

  “Right. I’ll start down there,” she says, and points down the never-ending row of filing cabinets to our left. Turning away, she begins walking, casually looking up and down the rows. She’s halfhearted about it, possibly because she knows this is all fake. I don’t linger on the thought.

  As Skye walks away, I turn my attention to other things. I summon the internal screen and begin sifting through information. Part of me realizes that this is dangerous and not, strictly speaking, part of the mission. All we need to do is attract drones; being linked into the system is plenty of reason to track us all by itself. But I cannot resist such a perfect opportunity.

  I begin to search. Lists of information flash over the screen, whirring rapidly as my eyes scan them for something useful or important. It takes me a moment before I find it.

  Me.

  Lib, aged to approximately sixteen physical years. Learning capabilities evolved at an increased rate, as have complex thoughts. Unfortunately, the human faults are appearing, as well. These may result in difficulties with completing the program.

  Suggested solution: Memory wipe. Amnesia will result in inherent desire to return to the system.

  I stare at the screen, written in that same formula that isn’t quite a language but which I can still understand. At least, I can read it.

  There’s more, even beyond those striking points. Statistics on my growth and my education. I know more of a world that no longer exists than anyone, probably thanks to that education. I realize that the flashes of memory I’ve been getting are glimpses of my education, pieces of the old world that have been planted in my brain. I don’t know the reasons for this, though. Why does the AI seem so focused on me—and why has she taken such an interest in my development, my education?

  What’s more, I haven’t even found what I’m looking for. There’s nothing about my parents in here as far as I can tell. Nothing to tell me who I am.

  I’ve intended to keep searching for answers, when suddenly I hear the scream. I recognize it immediately and start running. “Skye!” I shout, my voice echoing through the halls as though any of this is the real world. “Skye!”

  I run in the same direction she went, moving towards the screaming which increases in volume as I get closer. I have to round the corner before I finally do find her, and when I do, I feel something like panic
boil up within me. Skye is on her knees, trembling and jerking uncontrollably. For a split second, I might even think she’s having a seizure, but then I register the rest of the scene. The bot with its spindling arms and its face that will never be human enough. It’s wrapped around her, sending jolts of electricity through her system. I know that she’ll die if it doesn’t stop soon.

  Moving as fast as this virtual world will allow, I make a dive for the robot, tackling it and shoving it to the ground. Skye is jerked free, slumping to the ground, dazed. I feel the bot’s energy pulse through me, a shock to my own system, and for a moment everything goes haywire.

  Lib. The now familiar voice of the AI washes over me and suddenly she is there with me. Her smile is like the room surrounding us, familiar and comforting, but cold and unnatural. She reaches for me with long fingers that are delicate, her nails deliberately shaped into pretty half-moons that make me think she’s paid careful attention to them. So much attention to them for something that isn’t—

  The heat of the energy dances across my skin like tiny particles of sand jumping along my arms. I feel overheated and clench my teeth shut without meaning to, hard enough that I’ll probably feel sore when I finally pry them apart.

  And then she continues, speaking to me.

  It’s an advantage. The same advantage that presented itself when I decided on a Glitch in the first place. You would be taken in. You would be accepted. A drone could never do that. But a girl—

  The electricity forces my muscles to convulse and, for a moment, I have difficulty releasing the robot now that I’ve gotten a hold of it. If I’d been smart, I would have opened the panel to the robot and disconnected him there, just as I did the first time I saved Skye’s life. But this is different. Once, the AI wanted me to survive. Now I’m not so sure.

  Finally, I manage to get enough motor skills going from my body to get my hands around the limbs of the robot. I grab it at what might be considered the wrist and jerk it back and away from myself so that the buzzing end of it isn’t pressed against me. Then I redirect it towards the bot. The arm makes a loud, skittering sound that sounds like tiny pellets hitting metal. Sparks fly, and then the bot collapses on itself. The electricity it was shooting from its limbs has died instantly, and the whole construct of the virtual world seems momentarily to dim as a result.

  I slump to the ground, exhausted. My muscles ache. All I want to do is lie here and not move, but I remember Skye and the Rogues outside. With effort, I jerk myself into a sitting position. I look around for Skye and see that she’s slumped over on the floor, unmoving. For a panicked moment, I’m sure she’s dead. Then I see the ragged breaths moving her chest. A trickle of relief eases through me and I drag my exhausted and twitching body to my feet, moving determinedly to Skye.

  “Hey,” I say when I reach her, grabbing her shoulder and shaking her. “Hey, Skye. Are you okay?”

  She doesn’t respond, still unconscious. I try to shake her awake, but other than her breathing, she doesn’t move. If I had more time, maybe I’d spend it trying to wake her up here in the mainframe, but I don’t have time. Outside, I’m sure drones are arriving. We’ve been in here too long already. Maybe Skye will wake up in seconds, but probably not. The last time, it took hours.

  I don’t have hours.

  I grab hold of her hand and clutch it tightly before I take a deep breath, and then I close my eyes. When I open them again, we’re outside the mainframe. Skye is slumped on the ground, but she’s not connected to the panel, having fallen away from it. That should mean she’s out. I hope.

  I don’t have time to linger on her well-being, unfortunately. A bright flash of light draws my attention away from her and I realize that I was right. The drones have arrived and they’re already fighting the Rogues.

  Coral dives down on top of one of the flying orbs, trying desperately to avoid the spindly, needled arms protruding from it. He manages it just barely by snapping off the arms and tossing them off to the side where another Rogue grabs at them to use against her own drone.

  A quick scream tears my gaze from Coral and drives me into the fray. I bolt away from Skye and into the night, heading towards that scream which I see is coming from Lizzie. She’s screaming because a drone has drug its needle-like arms through her skin, causing blood to seep out of the wounds and dot the powdery dust. She’s fallen on her rear and is scrambling away from the approaching drone as fast as she can while still clutching at her bleeding arm.

  I race forward, moving faster than anyone else. The drone extends its arm towards the girl, who screams again. Her eyes clench shut as she turns away, preparing for the worst, but the worst never comes. Instead, I manage to launch myself into the side of the drone, sending it spiraling away from both of us. One of its arms redirects away from Lizzie to grab at me and I feel the slice as it scrapes along my skin, but I ignore the shiver of pain.

  Risking a glance at Lizzie, I see that she’s sitting still with wide eyes as she clutches at her arm. She looks like she’s in shock. “Move!” I shout at her as I see another drone approach.

  There are more than I thought there would be.

  I unsheathe Raj’s dagger and plunge it through the drone in front of me. It spits up sparks, showering me with them until it just lays flat on the ground. I get up and hurry towards Lizzie again, but I’m much too late. I see that an arm has sliced through her throat, three prongs protruding from the front side of it. Her eyes glass over and I know she’s gone.

  There is no time for mourning. I jump into the fray and lodge my blade into the nearest drone. It goes down in a shower of sparks. Pulling it out, I head to the next one, pleased to see that the others have already engaged. I pick the drone nearest me and thrown my weight behind the dagger, shoving it through the metal until the drone’s body smashes against the nearest wall.

  As I’m removing the dagger, I spot another drone approaching me. I jerk away from the wall in time to dodge a laser beam. Throwing myself at the drone, trying to get to it before another laser blasts towards me, I embed the knife through its glowing red eye. Sparks sizzle up the knife and I drop it as the drone goes down.

  A cry of rage echoes on the air, and for a moment I think it’s mine. Then I see Bird launching herself out of nowhere, falling from the sky like her namesake. She has a rock in her hands, its edge jagged, and as she falls she brings it down into the shell of the drone. The tackle takes them both to the ground and, by the time I get there, Bird is hammering away at the drone until sparks are flying everywhere. When they stop coming, she continues to pound on it.

  I take a moment to glance around, but see that the others have successfully dispatched the other drones. None that I can see are left. When I turn back to Bird, she’s still pounding the rock into the hunk of metal on the ground.

  “Bird, stop!” I command, reaching for her.

  She jerks back from me, ignoring my order and continuing to attack the lifeless drone.

  “Stop! It’s dead! If you keep doing that, we won’t be able to get any parts from it!”

  She freezes, the rock lifted above her head as she turns to look at me with wide, angry eyes. When her gaze locks with mine, she brings the rock down in a final angry blow. The pieces spray out from it, broken and mangled. I don’t think we’ll be able to use any of it.

  “Why did you do that?” I demand, kneeling by the pieces to see if any of them are salvageable.

  “You don’t even care, do you?” Bird says, and I can hear the accusation in her tone. I tense at it.

  Straightening myself up from the ground, I look Bird in the eye. “What are you talking about? Of course I care. Why do you think we’re—?”

  She interrupts me. “You don’t care about anything but those stupid pieces of metal. You don’t care about the people who have died today.”

  My whole body gets tingly, like I’m being electrocuted all over again. Then I start to feel numb. People? I think, and it’s only now that I realize that more of us than just Liz
zie must have died today.

  I look around for a quick headcount. One, Mole who is bleeding from a head wound, but definitely alive. Two, Tiger, a man with patterned stripes down his lean, but muscular arms. He looks unharmed, none the worse for wear. Three, Skye. She’s conscious now, but definitely dizzy. She’s holding her head and leaning against the panel. Four and five are myself and Bird. Six is Lizzie, who is clearly dead. Bird holds her head in her lap and strokes back the poor girl’s hair.

  Two, I think. There should be two more.

  I search them out and find them both together—the brothers. The ones who got their names from the deadly snakes that wander our world. I spot Coral first, his sandy hair looking almost blonde in the moonlight. He’s bent over something, and that’s when I realize that it’s Sidewinder, his brother.

  There’s blood on Sidewinder’s chest and it coats his brother’s hands. There’s complete quiet, and there’s no question that, of the brothers, only one has survived this mission.

  Is this my fault? I wonder. By the look in Bird’s eye, she thinks it is.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The trip home is made in silence. We couldn’t bring the dead with us and, worse still, we couldn’t burn them. It’s dark enough that to do so would have risked bringing still more drones toward us, and dragging them home would have slowed us down. So we buried them in the sandy earth, the graves too shallow and our hearts too heavy.

  No one has said anything to me since Bird’s accusation, and I think maybe that’s for the best. What would they say? What would I say? Nothing good, I’m sure.

  I know that, when we get home, things will have to be discussed. It will be like the last mission all over again. Another mission, another set of deaths. All of them Rogues, which I’m sure won’t go unnoticed, though I think it’s the least important of the details. Does it really matter which of us has died?

  I try not to think about their faces, Sidewinder’s and Lizzie’s. I feel a tightness in my chest knowing they’re dead, but I’m not crying—and, I feel no urge to cry. But what Skye told me about Chandra and Marq… well, it makes me wonder if I shouldn’t be crying.