Spark, p.19
Spark, page 19
Lucas shook his head.
“Because it would be wrong. I can save you.”
He said this firmly, but he had no clue how to move Kowalski. He didn’t look capable of walking on his own. He glanced backward at Brad’s body, lying face down with a cavernous hole in his head. Tim looked on from his hiding spot behind the corner.
“Do you have any idea how to get out of here?” Lucas asked.
“You’ve got to clear a path for us,” Kowalski answered quickly. “More will come soon. I c-can walk; I just need a little help. We can head for the helipad.”
He paused to breathe. Another explosion shook the walls, followed by gunfire.
“Lucas,” Kowalski said seriously. “If it seems like I’m slowing you down, you’ve got to leave me here and run. Whatever happens, they must not get you. It would be over for everyone if they do. Do you understand?”
“I don’t need convincing,” Lucas replied.
“Didn’t think so,” Kowalski said. “Now, those computers need to be destroyed. We’ve got to prevent any of our data from from falling into their hands. That can also double as a distraction.”
Lucas understood, and nodded slowly. Glass crunched about a dozen feet away, The enemy was drawing nearer.
“They’re coming,” Lucas said.
“It’s got to be big… and we’ve only got one chance. I’ll signal the others to go on your cue.”
“My cue?”
“You can hear them.”
With his free hand, Kowalski made a series of gestures to Tim. Lucas could hear the Rising operatives’ breathing as they drew closer. He gave Kowalski a nod, then focused, summoning reservoirs of energy and allowing it to build in his hands. The bank of computers that lined the bullpen started a few feet away; he took control of the internal software and ordered the computers to begin scrambling themselves, ravaging the information they held. The hard drives began to overheat, then, with a loud crack, sparks began to fly. This caused the Rising hiding on the other side to take a step back; Lucas slid out from under the table and saw the top of one’s head as he was briefly exposed. The man was quickly taken out by a shot from Tim. Lucas followed it with his lightning, blasting the bank of computers and causing several to burst into flames.
Tim ran across the gap during the diversion and pulled Kowalski free, then both began to hobble, with heads down, back to safety; Lucas watched for the response, and it came quickly. Roughly a dozen men flooded the bullpen, and Tim opened fire, dropping three of them. Lucas sent a bolt of lightning at the rest, flinging them away.
“Lucas, come on!” Tim called. He and Kowalski had made it across the gap, and only Lucas was left, ducking under the table. He summoned more lightning into his hands, jumped up, then released it. With a thunderous crash, more monitors and hard drives exploded and the lights overhead burst. Some men were flung backward, while others were dealing with flames that erupted on their clothing. The overhead sprinklers went off, beginning a steady rain. Lucas dashed across the gap to the hallway where Tim and Kowalski were waiting. Tim had torn off part of his shirt and stuffed it into the wound.
“The helipad is up ahead, down this hall,” Kowalski said weakly. “Lucas, you go first.”
“We can’t go yet,” Lucas protested. “Kenny and Bernard are waiting for us in the stairwell. We have to go get them.”
“That’s on the way,” Tim urged. “Keep moving.”
“Let’s get going, quickly,” Kowalski said. Tim set off, half-carrying him, while Lucas padded after them in bare feet. “Any luck calling out?”
“No, sir,” Tim answered. “They must’ve taken out the cell tower.”
“I’m not picking up any cell signals,” Lucas added.
“They must have rehearsed this,” Kowalski muttered. “They know what they’re doing. It all went to shit so quickly.”
They moved stealthily down the hall, Lucas in the lead with heart racing. His fists were tightly clenched with adrenaline. With half his attention on the immediate situation, the other half checked the bunker’s cameras for any sign of the Rising. While the Bullpen blazed, a group appeared to be searching for a way around it. In another area, they had gathered some CIA hostages; there were a few dozen people handcuffed and on their knees in groups, surrounded by guards. Then the hallway was suddenly plunged into darkness and silence, except for the group’s startled breathing.
“They’ve cut the power,” Kowalski noted.
For Lucas, this was a strange sensation. The needle-like prickle that he had felt constantly across his skin for nearly a year had suddenly lessened. He felt like he’d unexpectedly lost his sense of taste. Tim holstered his gun and switched on a flashlight, and Lucas blinked in the brightness. The wide hallway now resembled a dark tunnel, but with no light at the end.
“Keep moving,” Tim urged.
They came to the door of the stairwell. As they drew nearer, Lucas felt Bernard’s consciousness brush against his. He opened his mind to it, bridging the connection, and said, We’re back, open up! He tapped on the door and a second later it opened. Kenny’s face appeared, illuminated by flashlight.
“Alright, let’s go, quick!” Tim said.
“Where’s Brad?” Kenny asked, his eyes flicking between them.
“Gone,” Tim replied shortly.
Kenny’s mouth twitched, but he gave his flashlight to Lucas and scooped Bernard up into his arms. Tim slung Kowalski across his back, and both men began to jog. Lucas pushed himself forward, running to keep up, with the light from Kenny’s flashlight at his feet. The explosive booming began to fade into the distance. The hallway came to an end, with the option to go left or right. Kowalski said left, and Lucas went first, feeling his way along. By now, the air had become quite thick, and sweat soaked his shirt. Kowalski’s breathing had also become more ragged, and the metallic stench of blood was strong. Lucas, who had fallen behind, noted several spots of blood dripped onto the paved floor.
Finally, the exit appeared, and it was unguarded. Tim called for everyone to stop. He lowered Kowalski to the ground and propped him up against the wall, and Kenny did the same with Bernard. They looked like a pair of cadavers, with heads lolling, skin drawn and sickeningly pale. Blood continued to seep from Kowalski’s wound; the shirt that Tim had stuffed there was soaked, and leaked onto the floor. His face was ashen, and his breath shallow, almost inaudible. His head dropped forward so that his chin rested on his chest. Lucas stared blankly. It occurred to him that Kowalski didn’t have long.
“Lucas,” Tim said.
Tim beckoned to him from where he stood by the door. Kenny stood silently a few feet away, his gun raised and flashlight pointed up the hallway. Lucas walked over to Tim’s side, his legs still burning from the run.
“Can you tell us what’s out there?” Tim asked.
“There are some Rising about fifty yards away,” Lucas answered, eyes closed. “Maybe twenty or thirty of them.”
“Which direction?”
Lucas raised his hand, pointing east of their location.
“That way.”
“Good,” Tim said with a stiff nod. “We came the right way.”
Suddenly, he knelt down so that he was eye-level with Lucas. His dark skin was streaked with sweat and grime; it gathered in the creases of his brow. He wiped his mouth and looked at Lucas, his eyes like bottomless pools.
“This is it,” he said. “Before we go out there, I wanted to say thank you for what you’ve done getting us this far. And I want to apologize on the behalf of everyone here for the way you’ve been treated. Nobody deserves that.”
Tim’s gaze was piercing. Lucas met it, and said nothing.
“I’m going to have to ask more of you,” he continued. “We’re going to have to run, and we’re most likely going to meet gunfire out there. That wall you made earlier—or force field… whatever it was. Can you do it again?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas admitted. “I’ve never done that before… it was an accident.”
“You’ll have to provide cover for all of us, because I’m going to be carrying Kowalski, and Kenny will have Bernard. Neither of us will be able to shoot.”
Lucas gave a short nod that he understood.
“I’ll… I’ll try.”
“I’m counting on you,” Tim said firmly. “Our lives are in your hands. Are you ready?”
Lucas nodded again, a tight knot in his throat. Tim straightened and called Kenny over. They picked up Bernard and Kowalski, and lined up in front of the door. Lucas was first, his fingers shaking as he wrapped them around the door handle. His muscles strained as he pulled until the door cracked open. Bright sunlight flooded in, temporarily blinding him. He blinked, but all he could see was glaring white light. Heat barraged his face as if he’d opened an oven. His feet moved forward on hot, gravelly pavement. Gradually, his vision cleared, and he began to make out hazy shapes. One hundred yards ahead was a single parked helicopter, blurred by rising heat waves. A sidewalk met a long driveway that led to the helipad.
“Go, go, go!” Tim urged, and Lucas began to run. The soles of his feet were burned by the pavement; the heat thickened the air and slowed his movements so he felt as if he were swimming. He forced himself to keep going, and the helicopter drew nearer. He staggered, chest burning. Tim and Kenny charged on behind him.
He heard the roar of engines, and his heart sank. Two Jeeps, tops open, rounded the warehouse with clouds of dust trailing behind them. At least a dozen Rising rode inside, rifles ready. Lucas heard commands shouted over their radios. He paused in his run, his head snapped in their direction. Lightning surged into his hands and he released it with a single throwing motion. A bolt shot into the hood of the first Jeep with a sound like cannonfire, causing it to careen out of control. Smoke and flames erupted from the front of the car. The second Jeep pulled over and men jumped out, rifles cocked. Three dropped to their knees, and three stood upright. These weren’t terrorists, Lucas realized. These were soldiers. They wore military fades with a red symbol on the sleeve, and seemed to be receiving orders from someone in the back of the formation who called:
“Hostile android located… on target. Kill shots only. Fire when ready!”
Lucas didn’t wait. With a yell, he summoned more energy than he ever had before. It felt like jet fuel was running through his veins. The power built until he couldn’t hold it anymore, and then the dam broke. With hands open, he released it at the same time that the soldiers opened fire. A wall of energy sprang from inside of him, soaring upward ten feet high and twenty feet across. It was shapeless, and fuzzy at the edges but transparent in the middle. It was also extremely difficult to control; it warped and bent regardless of Lucas’ will. To his amazement, the bullets struck against it and bounced off, ricocheting in every direction. The soldiers dove for cover behind the vehicle, and were quickly joined by those that had recovered from the first Jeep’s crash. Metal clanged as bullets punched through the doors and hood, and the tires hissed.
Lucas had expected the force field to vanish instantly as before, but, to his great surprise and relief, it held. He fed it with his concentration and what remained of his power. Seconds crawled by. The drain of energy on his body was immense, but he was determined to buy the others time. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Tim and Kenny reach the helicopter and heave both Bernard and Kowalski inside. Kenny climbed to the cockpit, while Tim drew his weapon. There were more shouts from the men, and Tim’s voice somehow reached him over the din. It was time to go, but how could he release the force field and make it to the helicopter in time? There were twenty yards between him and the chopper. More soldiers were likely on the way.
Surely enough, another vehicle swerved around the corner, this one much bigger and with a large gun mounted on top. Tim was frantic now, screaming Lucas’ name. Lucas released the force field and flung it in the direction of the oncoming vehicle. The field crackled half-heartedly, fizzling out and disappearing into the air before it reached the Jeep. Lucas ran, his feet dragging and fear pounding in his chest.
A clap of thunder reached his ears. It was followed by a second, much shorter, one.
A bullet clipped his skull, stopping him in his tracks. He fell to his knees. Immense, horrible pain shocked his senses.
Chapter 15
LUCAS STARED UP AT A white, hazy sky, ears ringing. The back of his head was wet with the blood that pooled around him.
Muffled voices spoke; he couldn’t make any sense of them. People, silhouetted by the sun, approached him from all sides. A gun was jabbed in his face, and strong hands grabbed each arm. He felt a sharp sting in the inside of his elbow. His arm quickly grew numb.
“Pick him up,” a woman’s voice said.
Lucas’ head lolled as he was lifted off the ground into a kneeling position. Blood trickled down his face and dripped onto his shirt. Standing before him was Iweala, Dr. Gill at her side. They were surrounded by armed soldiers. Helicopter blades throbbed in the distance.
“I-Iweala,” Lucas mumbled.
She held a handgun pointed at him. Dr. Gill hugged a black briefcase. Both watched impassively as Lucas was handcuffed. His head wound was healing, but he felt his mind beginning to fog. He was drugged again, this time with something powerful.
“Iweala, why?” he croaked.
“Oh, Lucas,” she said gently. Her eyes did not match the tone of her voice. “You must stop fighting. If you only knew what we were trying to accomplish, you would be on our side.”
“You stabbed Kowalski,” Lucas growled. “You betrayed everyone.”
“Not you,” she said sweetly. “All of this is for you. Don’t you understand?”
“What? What do you want with me?”
Adrenaline fought to counteract the drugs, but to no avail. Soon, he couldn’t hold his head up. Then he slumped into the soldier’s arms. He couldn’t catch his breath, and nausea rocked his stomach.
“You are an integral part of this movement. Everything I’ve done was to make you into what you were meant to be. You were the purpose of this venture from the very beginning, plans laid in place long before you were born. All of that was put on hold, until now. The Rising needs you; without you, we were nothing. Now, we are taking you home.”
Lucas didn’t understand what she was talking about. Maybe it was the drugs, but nothing she said registered inside of him. Her face swirled and shifted, like he was looking at it from underwater. She looked up. The soldiers parted to allow a group of men to approach, pushing a large cart bearing something that looked like a long coffin. Many tubes wove in and out of its steel frame, and the lid was reinforced glass. A large tank was attached to the end of it. The men grunted with considerable effort as they brought it to a stop a few feet away.
“What’s going to happen to me?” he asked, the words slurring.
“Don’t be afraid, Lucas,” Iweala said. “You are with your family now.”
He wasn’t afraid, though he knew he should be. He should be screaming, but his mouth hung open dumbly.
She gave a nod to the nearby soldiers. They hefted Lucas up by his arms and legs, then carried him to the coffin. He couldn’t kick, or thrash, or reach any of his power to fight back; he could only watch helplessly as they laid him inside. Once he was in the coffin, Dr. Gill passed the briefcase to a nearby soldier, then set to work. He attached one of the tubes to Lucas’ neck by inserting a long needle, then added a few more into his forearms. A clear fluid immediately began to pump through it into his veins. He was uncuffed, then his arms were strapped down at the wrist, and his legs at the ankle. Last of all, Dr. Gill fitted a mask over his face, and Lucas found that his breathing was suddenly easier. He felt sleepy, and his eyelids drooped. The lid to the coffin closed, and he could see his reflection in the glass: a thin, ghoulish boy with bloodied clothes. His eyes closed as the coffin was rolled away.
Something heavy hit the lid with a thud, rocking him, and he opened his eyes. Dr. Gill lay across the coffin, his face against the glass, eyes and mouth wide open. It was difficult to feel surprise; his breath remained deep and steady, even as blood began to drip from Dr. Gill’s open mouth in red streaks down the glass. Small, muffled explosions sounded, and his coffin was rocked again. Lucas closed his eyes and sank back into sleep.
“Lucas!”
A voice was pulling him roughly back into consciousness, but he didn’t want to leave. He felt so warm and comfortable, and his mind was gently padded against the sharpness of reality.
“Lucas, wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!”
He was dragged out of sleep once more. Someone was shouting and shaking him. Then he was lifted out of the coffin and placed on hot pavement. Wind whipped his face as someone pressed their fingers to the side of his throat. Strong hands picked him up again and carried him at a run. Bright sunlight shone, making him squint, but he could see brown earth, trees, and gray haze over the horizon. His head was flooded with the roar of a million voices, like distant applause.
“Are you with us, Lucas?” a man’s voice asked.
“I can hear the sun,” he answered drowsily.
He was lifted into a helicopter and laid across the floor on a stretcher. Across the cabin, Bernard was buckled into a seat, staring out the window. Beside him, Kowalski lay bandaged heavily with a mask on his face, and an oxygen tank on his other side. His face was white, and his lips were gray, almost blue. An IV bag swung from the roof of the chopper. Lucas looked up and saw that he had one, too. His head slowly became clearer, but he couldn’t lift any of his limbs. He seemed to be sweating profusely, though he shivered with cold.
In the center of the helicopter’s cabin, Tim sat wrapping one of his hands. Kenny stood forward by the pilot.
“Tim,” Lucas said.
“Hey,” he replied, scooting to his side. His knuckles were bleeding through the bandage. “How are you doing?”
