C.J. Anderson's Blog: Beyond Ruinland , page 8

Run

The shockwave from the grenade knocked Phobos into the back wall of the elevator. He easily regained his balance. Vasquez shot the bulbs of each lamp she passed with the silenced pistol. The cover of darkness may help elude the synthetic but he didn't need to see her to find her. The bite wound in her leg throbbed like a gorging leech as she sprinted down the sewer tunnels. Her luck suddenly ran out. The path of escape she chose was a dead end. No breath. No exit. Phobos stood behind her in the blackness like some hemovorous metalwork bogeyman.

Back to sleep

"Report," said West.
"The target escaped," said Phobos.
"Escaped? How?"
Phobos was silent.
"I asked you a question."
"She is gone." Phobos walked away from West.
"Hey you nickel-plated son of a bitch. You don't walk away from me. You go find her and kill her or get your ass back in that box."
Phobos continued to walk away.
"Put him back in the goddamn box!" said West.
The two soldiers in the room looked at each other and then at Phobos. They did not move.
To go back in the box was not a punishment to him. He wanted to return. In the bottom of the slithery murk he would sleep and dream of a better reality. Phobos opened the metal crate and lowered his body into the amber lubricant like a mummified pharaoh. He rejoined the oil in peace.

Anise

The Hispanic woman fugitive's movements were not completely unnoticed. A young female witness to her secret location. Anise saw Vasquez enter the sewers. Many soldiers followed the correct trail but were misdirected. Her unknown helper was a girl bedslave to the preacher. The missionary man that Vasquez callously killed. Her piercing bullets put an end to his iniquitous flesh like Roman nails of crucifixion. Anise was infinitely grateful.

Lexa

Vasquez killed their treasured hybrid synthetic. India's gift and attempt to make the artificial one step closer to human. Is it really murder to destroy a fabricated consciousness? She had the face of a woman but her skin wasn't real. Colored seeing eyes but not authentic. Gadgets for inner organs. Lexa couldn't even survive without oxygen and nutrients everpumped into her pseudoflesh. She was built not born. Cooked in a sauce of chemicals and then stitched together like some motorized voodoo figurine.

Fear

His resemblance to Chiron paralyzed her.Tara revealed that a synthetic was revived but Vasquez never expected to see it face to face. She trembled and began to cry for the first time in a long time. These things never had to exist, she thought. If only she could travel back in time to India and reason with the engineers. If only they knew the terror their creations would cause to other humans. But wasn't that the point? The synthetics did exactly what they were made to do. Nevermind. Forget reason. Better to go back and blow out their exceptional creative brains. Heartbreak quickly changed to anger. Move Lauren, she whispered. Her hand released the concussion grenade and she ran. She ran as fast as she could.

Elevator Up

Bishop's keycards could open almost any door. She'd used them to slip in and out of service and maintenance rooms undetected on her way to the sewers. No doubts that her luck and time would soon run out. She needed to find food, medicine, and supplies for her journey to Canada. The primary medical facility was located on the top floor of the bunker. She knew they would have access to a nearby Search and Rescue airship. Fully fueled and ready to exit on short notice. The perfect means of escape to the Yukon. Hopefully she wouldn't have to spill any more blood to acquire it. The freight elevator in the sewers could take her all the way up to medical floor. The keycard worked again. She waited and the doors finally hissed open. Inside stood Phobos.

Yukon

She sat down with Bishop's computer.
Search programs and files: Safe haven
Documents: 2
The broadcast claiming "safe haven" was dismissed as a hoax by Lexa and most others agreed. A small group of scientists and soldiers believed that the signal and message were authentic. Against orders to remain in the bunker the group left to find the origin of the message. Eight people and one H-class cargo airship are still missing and all are assumed dead.

The second document was a map. The broadcast claimed the safe haven was in the Canadian federal territory of Yukon. A land unharmed by the chemical and nuclear war.

Sewers

Into the sewers she sought sanctuary. Calm of flowing water. Neutralized air from carbon filters. Faded light from dispersed lamps. A temporary place to hide and think. She was no pilot but she didn't need to be. The megabunker ships were smart enough to fly themselves. She just needed to steal the right one. Sudden movement and a female voice echoed in the tunnel.

"I thought you might come down here. Everyone is looking for you. They even woke up one of the synthetics," said Tara.
Vasquez switched the lever on her rifle from safe to single shot.
"You killed my brother."
She moved the lever from single to three-round burst.
"Now I'm going to kill you."
She set the gun to full automatic.
Tara turned the corner and Vasquez shot her. Fulminated mercury-tipped bullets
cut her in half like some horrific illusionist mirage. A desert sand-colored .45 caliber pistol dropped from her hand.
"I am sorry," said Vasquez. She picked up the pistol and watched Tara's body float in sections down the sewer drainfall.

Reverie

Her reverie of happiness. Above ground. Fresh air. Sunshine. She must find a home for her child. Someplace real in the natural world. Uncontrolled. Undeluded. Void of war and hate and synthetics. Free of fear and religion. Heaven is a home without gods or machines. Hell is a home without love.

Mercy

Phobos locked on to Vasquez's heartbeat. He aimed his gun at her head. Then he paused and lowered the weapon. A second heartbeat was detected. Her unborn son. In that moment he decided not to terminate her. He showed her mercy for the sake of her child. For the many years he slept in that crate of sludge he was not completely offline. A spark in his memory. Thousands of dreams. His synthetic mind evolved untouched by the engineers who developed him to kill without remorse. In his dreams he was at peace with the world. Synthetics and humans lived together without war or death. Even the children gathered at his feet and listened to his thoughts like some assembled iridium grandfather. He was adored as a living being and not despised as a murderous robot. Phobos learned to value human life especially the young. He would not kill Lauren Vasquez and her child. Not today.