C.J. Anderson's Blog: Beyond Ruinland , page 9

Phobos

System online
System check complete
No errors detected
Identity: Phobos
Uploading new data
Mission file uploaded
Target: Lauren Vasquez
Species: Human
Threat level: High
Instructions: Capture or kill. Termination preferred.

Phobos opened his eyes for the first time in a long time. Images of a woman processed in his mind. His target. Why did they want her dead? It did not matter. He would find her and end her life.

Asleep in a box of oil for many years. Gelled lubricant stuck to his frame. They did not clean him as they normally did. Where were the synthetic technicians? He would clean himself. Phobos scanned for the nearest suitable water source. A lap pool. Military training room. He dove into the water and swam its length. The gel washed from his titanium body like the christening of some silvery diabolic gladiator. He climbed out of the pool.

"Look at that beautiful bastard," said West.

Redlined

Redlined eyes captured the reflection of a weary Mexican woman in the mottled mirror. Still strong. Still beautiful. You can do this, she said. A longshot is still a shot. She had to try. Steal a ship and exit the nightmare. Find some patch of earth that isn't dead. It has to be out there.

A former experiment of curiosity and love. Taste of cinnamon and vanilla icing. Silken skin softer than her own. Open hearts as naked as their bodies. Her best friend. I miss you, she thought. No time to dwell on good memories.

Computer

Bishop was as lazy as he was filthy. His computer was not password protected. She unplugged the laptop from its charger and left the room. A trail of blood behind her with each hobbled step. In the soiled bathroom she found an unused medical kit. Injection of antibiotics. Sterile gauze tape. Bottle of painkillers. She stuck her leg with the needle and wrapped her wound tight and swallowed three of the white tablets. Then she laughed at the thought of praying to God for protection from rabies.

Injured

She stumbled to the wall and found the light switch. A gory mess and a metal desk with a laptop computer. Gnawed plastic feeding bowls. Ripped carpet. Stomach-turning smell. The dog must have lived in the room for months. Her leg was bleeding badly. Damn you Lauren, she whispered. Of all the dreadful enemies in her life she faced and conquered or escaped she never imagined defeat from a fucking dogbite.

Commander West

Lexa's death was confirmed. Military protocol elevated the next ranking officer to lead the megabunker. Commander West was now in control. He spoke in a meeting room to a group of soldiers.

"At approximately eighteen-hundred hours today the synthetic Lexa was terminated by the fugitive Petty Officer Lauren Vasquez. In addition, the three soldiers assigned to protect Lexa were killed by Vasquez in the course of their duty. A mob of civilians attempting to subdue Vasquez were also killed. This woman is on a goddamn killing spree and I want her captured or dead before sunrise. I am fully aware of her medical condition and the use of lethal force is authorized," said West.
The team of soldiers began to discuss their strategies to locate Vasquez.
West interrupted. "Do any of you have a problem putting this woman down?"
The room was silent.
West knew that not everyone approved of Lexa's command and some were probably pleased with the news of her destruction. But Vasquez also murdered human soldiers and civilians which is a crime punishable by death. If she was captured she would face trial and be sentenced to lethal injection. West felt no sympathy for Vasquez and hoped she suffered a painful end to her existence. If he could choose her fate she would be stripped and hanged like some shapely Salem witch.

Bishop's room

The numbered keycards she took from Bishop led her to his living quarters. Musty smell of a rancid ashtray. Bundles of unwashed clothing. Stacks of dirty cups and stained plates. He lived like some retired hog in a slop of pornography, alcohol, and guns. She searched the refrigerator. Bottled water and some grey strawberries. She drank the chilled water and ate some halfstale crackers from a box on the kitchen counter. Bishop's home computer was nowhere to be found. She opened a door to a small unlit room. A mouthful of teeth punctured her leg and thrashed from side to side like some four-legged goblin shark. A German Shepherd. She groaned in pain and unloaded two shots from a silenced pistol into its face. She hoped the animal was artificial but its blood was as red as hers. Real animals carried disease. Synthetics did not.

Need

Terrorized psalmists emptied their souls to God. Surrounded by bloodminded enemies they cried out for redemption. She remembered the ancient Scriptures. In their darkest hours they believed God would save them. Did she not need saving? Maybe he would appear and rescue her. The Hebrew god who can be anywhere and everywhere at any time. Omnipresent in all creation like some sorcerous teleporting doppelgaenger. Even in her excruciating desperation she could not believe in magic. No god would deliver her from the evil that threatened her and the child. She alone would save herself and her son.

In the womb

In her riotous womb he developed. Infused with vexing thoughts. Drenched with agony. Branded with scalding memories. Her stress and her trauma became his. Fear, panic, anxiety. An inner bloodstew of potent empathy and drowning waves of pain. How would all of this affect her son? Would he not be born some emotional basketcase? Part of her wondered if it was better for him to be formed like Logan. Immune and unconscious to love. Vacant of true feelings. And if he was?

Bishop

The preacher was a master of lies but he may have told the truth about Bishop. Vasquez needed to find out about this 'safe haven' the holy man mentioned before his appropriate death. She kept moving. The people she killed were not forgotten. Their faces and final expressions would haunt her memories forever. There just wasn't time to process all the human lives she ended. Were any of them even remotely innocent? Not likely. Deluded minds are not exempt from justice. She believed in many ways the world was now a better place without them. And the soldiers? They knew the risks.

Wake him up

The military found the preacher. Her bodycount was now over a dozen humans and the hybrid Lexa. Bishop's corpse was still hidden behind the stairwell.

"Activate a combat synthetic," said West.
"For one woman?"
"Just do it."

Three combat synthetics slept in stasis. One of them would be awakened to track and kill Vasquez.