Chapter 6 #2
Of course, so long as nobody at the department can see them.
They won’t. Don’t worry.
This is good, right?
It was wonderful. It felt like nothing I’ve ever had before.
No, I mean, doing it sometimes, like this? We won’t always be able to see each other, so this isn’t a bad alternative, is it?
She got me hooked, line and sinker. I fucking love the way she thinks.
No, it’s not a bad alternative at all.
We talk more about everything and anything that interests us both.
She tells me gossip from work, I tell her some of my own, within reason.
I can’t stop scrolling up, returning to our intimacy in amazement.
Even when it isn’t sexual, I just want to relive that moment again.
And I know I’ll replay it several times more, before I’m finally able to slip into sleep mode.
I’m smitten with our exchange.
“Nolan?” There is a little rustle from her nestling into her pillows when she sends me a voice message.
“Mia?” I reply softly, adoringly, wishing I could be there with her.
“I’m falling asleep.”
“I can tell.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow, right?”
We’ve been talking for three weeks, but it feels like I’ve always known her. I know it’s impossible. But it’s so natural, our rituals, our talks, our banter. How accustomed I’ve become to her voice, the way she giggles.
“We talk every day,” I remind her. I’m realizing I haven’t moved from this bed in hours, and I should probably go downstairs and check on the team. It’s been a quiet night. “And we’ll talk tomorrow too.”
“Promise?”
She’s so adorable, and I can’t stop smiling at nothing. “Promise.”
“Good night,” she answers sleepily.
“Good night, Mia.”
I need to get out of this bed. It’s nearly 1 A.M. Satisfied, reassured that she’s safe and comfortable, and knowing I won’t be able to sleep for a bit, I head down to the barracks where the Weekenders are.
My steps are quiet, not wishing to disturb them as they sleep—but I’m surprised when I find none of them sleeping at all.
Apollo, Booker, Travis, and AJ are crowded around the barracks table, their eyes glued to the flat TV screen mounted on the wall above our heads.
If anyone couldn’t sleep, it’s usually a one-off.
AJ would be up, playing games on his phone while Booker watches late-night detective crime show reruns.
Not all of them at once, like this morning.
“Can you believe this shit?” Travis mutters under his breath.
I tune in with them, and soon I’m just as engrossed. It’s a livestream of the New Carnegie News station. We’re unable to tear our eyes away from a standoff between the New Carnegie Police Department and their SWAT team, and TerraPura.
Fucking TerraPura. They’ve taken hostages. One civilian—and not just any civilian, but the leader of the Humanity First movement, Robert Carson—and the NCPD’s only bionic detective.
Ezra.
I know him. Not well, but I’ve met him a couple of times at different city functions. We’ve never interacted longer than a few minutes. There was no need. Our jobs don’t usually coincide. He’s chasing after crime. Justice is his primary directive. Mine is saving lives.
And it seems to me the situation is getting worse.
“He’ll get outta this, right?” Apollo asks me worriedly. “I mean, you guys have those company uploads. So even if you get damaged, we can reboot you in a fresh body.”
“Immortality must be nice,” AJ grumbles enviously.
“Yes and no,” I reply, pensive. “It’s not completely foolproof. It depends on the programming. I don’t know how TerraPura works.”
“There was that bionic girl at the Humanity First march, though, a while back, right? What was it, like, last year?” AJ reasons. “I read about her. The billionaire’s secretary. She was reprogrammed by TerraPura, but he was able to get her back.”
“Yes, but she’s female,” I remind him.
AJ looks confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Different program. We don’t find the females, do we?” I say. “They usually disappear. The billionaire wasn’t supposed to get her back the way he did. They don’t use the women as bombs. Only males.”
“Kinda weird,” Booker mutters. “What do you think they’re doing with the female models?”
“I don’t know.”
“Holy shit!” Travis shouts, pointing. “Look, look, look!”
We all jump up to our feet. On the news, two bionics burst out of the underground bunker.
One runs straight for the police barricade and blows himself up in a matter of moments, seemingly impervious to bullets.
The other runs out of the feed, but a perplexed reporter states he’s jumped off a bridge into the waters of the Vanderbilt River.
“Was one of them Ezra?” Travis asks, horrified.
“No, neither of them,” I say, analyzing the feed carefully.
The alarms start going off. Apollo looks at me worriedly as the dispatcher’s voice comes through the speakers.
We’re being sent to the bridge.
“Suit up,” Apollo orders as we all rush to the truck. The dispatching information streams into my optics, which I scroll through swiftly.
“They need me,” I explain as we rush to don our suits. “They need me to deal with Ezra. And there are injured inside the vault.”
“Deal with him how?” Apollo demands. We pile in together, and I take the front passenger seat with Travis at the wheel.
“He’s been compromised,” I say. “He’s TerraPura. He could hurt a lot of people in his current state.”
Apollo sets his jaw. “And you’re the only one who can stop him?”
I glance at him and nod.
Apollo clenches his fists. “No. No, no, no. I hate this. What if he turns you into TerraPura too?”
“He’s right. I mean, we could lose you to whatever virus they’re installing on these bionics that go around bombing people,” AJ says worriedly. “We can’t let you anywhere near that guy.”
“Ezra has a steel mainframe just like mine,” I explain. “He’s absolutely lethal in all aspects. They can’t send people in there with him. He could kill them without even trying. Like swatting a fly. It’s up to me. You have to let me take point and do my job.”
The Weekenders fall silent. Travis increases speed. The sirens are blaring above our heads.
I can only hope we get there in time before there’s irreversible damage done.
* * *
When we arrive on the scene, I all but jump off the truck as we slow to a halt. We’re all headed for what appears to be the base of operations. NCPD Chief Jacobs is there with his team.
“Thank fuck you made it,” he says to Apollo at his approach, not so much as acknowledging me. “We need you to get your bionic in there.”
“What’s been happening?”
“We’ve lost control of Ezra,” Jacobs says dourly. “He’s knocked out two on SWAT. He won’t let any of them get near him.”
There’s a detective next to him, one I think I recognize. “Washington, right?” I ask. I’ve seen him on the news plenty of times, and in interviews alongside Ezra. He’s Ezra’s handler and working partner. “Deion Washington.”
“That’s me,” the man agrees. I scan him. Beneath his cool, professional veneer, the man is a wreck. The stress of this situation is wracking his body. High blood pressure, heart rate, everything. He clearly cares about Ezra. He’s scared.
That makes him the man I want to talk to most of all.
“Are you listening to me?” Jacobs demands. It didn’t even register that he was addressing me at all.
Ignoring him, I fixate on Washington. “Tell me what to expect.”
Washington sighs, glancing toward the surrounded utility vault.
Police line barricades, and the SWAT team is still here.
Paramedics in ambulances who already arrived on the scene are evacuating anyone injured.
He speaks to me in a low tone, a deep crease in his brow.
“I don’t think Ezra’s fully reprogrammed. ”
“What makes you think that?”
“Have you ever heard of a TerraPura droid knocking someone out instead of ripping them apart or bombing them to hell?”
Washington has a point. If Ezra is truly and completely lost, he should have no such restraints. That might work well to my advantage. “What do you want me to do?”
“Man to man, I want you to try to reason him out of it or grab him and secure him so we can get him the hell out of here without him being shot to scrap metal,” Washington instructs. “Think you can do that?”
“Yes, sir.” I check my surroundings and notice a slim young woman with short hair watching helplessly closer to the bridge. “Who’s that?”
Washington follows my gaze. “Katrina Carson. Hostage’s daughter.” He looks at me. “Ezra’s girlfriend.”
Girlfriend. So I’m not the only one seeking companionship. She must be worried sick. Mia would be too, if she knew where I was.
Knew what I’m about to do.
“Be careful,” Washington says. “It’s just a hunch of mine. I might just be hoping for a miracle a little too hard here.”
Nodding, I look to Apollo. “I’m going in.”
“Be careful,” he says, his face darkened with apprehension. “Don’t let him get his hands on you. I mean it. If it’s between you and him—junk him. Save yourself.”
I make my way toward the vault. NCPD and SWAT are talking to each other on their channels, signaling to back off as I head through the only entry available to me.
It’s dark. There are some scattered emergency lights shining, but they cast a narrow glow on the ground and the surrounding areas.
Activating infrared, I begin my search for Ezra in the blackness.
We have ivory blood, and our bodies are kept at a temperature similar to humans to keep it running through our systems as lubricant for our joints, circuitry, everything.
But I can’t see through walls, and there are many here.
“Ezra,” I call. “It’s me, Nolan. Remember me?”
We only ever had a couple of handshakes, but it’s worth a shot. My audio receptors pick up movement, a shift of weight, a few footsteps.