“Yes.”
“I know it’s old, it’s from the Iraqi Wars. Fucking ancient. But the shells are armor-piercing, and it’ll fire. You know what the Iraqi Wars were?”
I closed my eyes for a dangerous moment, gathering strength. I was Gatz’s lifeline; if this went wrong and it looked like the Monk was going to start tearing new asses, I was going to blow its head off. “Yes.”
“I wasn’t sure. Can you read?”
“Of course I can read.”
“Just checking. You’re just a kid, and the lack of education is shocking these days.” She paused for a blessed moment. “You ever wonder about them? The Monks?”
I gritted my teeth again. I imagined death, imagined my breathing getting harder, more labored, my mind dimming, everything going dark… I pushed the thoughts away, my heart pounding. Swallowing thickly, I oriented on Gatz, who still stood in place, like a statue. I knew the Monk would come if we managed to not set off any alarms. It had harangued Gatz earlier in the day, just like the Monk had harangued Nad Muller. It was coming.
Milton’s voice swam back up from the muddle. “You ever think about your sins?”
I forced a laugh. “Sins?”
For a moment, a blessed moment, she was quiet. Then she chuckled. “I guess you’re one of the good guys, huh, Cates? Forced into this life by the Evil World. Every person you cut down, they deserved it, huh? I’ll tell you something; no one deserves it.”
“Shut up. Something’s coming.”
Gatz leaped into action by raising his head and removing his glasses. It was instinctive with him, unveiling his only weapon, even if it wouldn’t do him much good. I fit the rifle’s stock into my shoulder, rested the barrel on the low wall of crumbling brick, and squinted along the sight. After a moment, it appeared.
Tall, its black robes melting into the night, its waxy white face shining like the moon, its eyes behind dark glasses a band of void.
“Mr. Gatz,” its voice came, silky and perfectly modulated. “Let me show you an endless trail of sunsets. Let me save you.”
I waited for Kieth. I expected him to jump at it, hit the spot immediately as we’d discussed. But there was nothing. I’d give Kieth as long as I could, until the Monk made its move. Kieth knew his window. I’d give it to him.
Gatz didn’t say anything, or move. He stared at the cyborg with his slitted, yellowed eyes.
“Ah, you are ready,” the Monk said. “That is good. Too many flee from salvation. You will soon be free from doubt, Mr. Gatz. You will soon be assured of grace.”
“Come on, Kieth,” I murmured, sighting the Monk’s grinning latex face. “Don’t fuck this up.” He had about five seconds before the Monk blew Gatz to hell.
The Monk hesitated. It was a strange sight. It looked like it was about to say something, and then… froze. I’d never seen a Monk go still like that.
“Cates,” Milton whispered next to me. “Cates, it’s gonna blow his chest open. Do it, for God’s sake!”
The next two seconds were a blur. The Monk moved as if encased in sudden jelly. Kieth appeared, moon-faced and bald, holding up the handheld trigger. A split-second of complete silence, and my earpiece went dead and the Monk crumpled to the ground.
“EMP discharged!” Kieth shouted. “Seven minutes to brain death! Let’s move!”
The electromagnetic pulse disrupted electrical systems, causing most to just shut down completely, causing all of them to malfunction to some degree, but did no physical damage. Kieth had insisted an EMP would knock the Monk on its ass, and there it was, prone and unmoving, gun in hand. As Milton and I leaped from our hiding place, the roar of the transport hover filled up the empty space-a slow garbage-detail hover, normally completely automated. Kieth had wired it for manual operation after Milton and Tanner had acquired it, and Tanner piloted the gerrymandered ride with a light touch I had to admire, setting the behemoth onto the pavement, just feet away from us. The huge, slimy hold that normally contained whatever garbage the shiftless citizens of Newark generated opened like a mechanical flower. As Milton and I ran by I tossed the sniper rifle in.
As I moved past him, Gatz said “I felt something, Ave. I felt like…” He shook his head. “Forget it. Probably my imagination.”
I nodded. “Get it in!” I shouted. “Move!”
I took its arms, Kieth and Milton each took a leg, and we lifted it about an inch off the ground and grunted.
“Holy shit!” Milton gasped. “Doesn’t the Electric Church know about alloys?”
As fast as we could, we dragged the Monk into the garbage hover, the last few feet an effort of pure willpower. Gatz clambered up behind us.
“Thanks, mate,” Kieth wheezed to Kev. “Without you it would’ve been impossible.”
“Let it drift,” I advised. “Five and a half minutes left. Tanner! Let’s displace, and be careful not to activate the compressor!”
Kieth eyed the huge hydraulics, which normally crushed the trash into tiny cubes, and his nose quivered in terror. He shook himself and tore open his backpack, pulling fistfuls of tools from it. “Give me the time every half-minute,” he ordered. “First, we have to disconnect the communications and tracking bugs, or the moment our friend here comes back on line, we’re dead men.”
“Five-fifteen,” I said, glancing at my watch. The hover lurched, and my stomach dropped into my shoes as it rose into the air. “Tanner!” I shouted again, feeling undernourished and exhausted. “Stay to the usual routes as much as you can.”
“Yes, Dad,” she shouted back. “Now shut the fuck up and let me drive.”
The hover, lacking any of the amenities of a manned transport, made so much noise I felt it vibrating through my body. I watched Kieth work.
First, he produced a small laser-powered cutting tool. “The abdomen’s where the main tech will be; it’s the largest part of the body,” he muttered, sweat dripping of his nose. He tore the black fabric of the Monk’s robes, revealing a smooth, mannequin’s body, crisscrossed with compartments and openings. With a blue flash, Kieth fired up the cutter and set it against the latex skin, right below the shoulder.
“Five minutes,” I shouted.
Kieth didn’t blink, and cut with maddening care, the bright blue beam of razor-sharp light inching its way around.
“Can’t rush these things, Mr. Cates,” he muttered. When he completed the oblong incision around its chest, he produced a large suction cup with a handle, which he hammered down onto the Monk, lifting the outer shell up and tossing it aside as well.
We all stared. The Monk’s insides were inscrutable; five black boxes of varying size, connected by what appeared to be pipes of plastic.
“That’s the fusion power source,” Kieth said, tapping the largest of the boxes with a long metal tool. “Can get you ten for a million yen in just about any city in the System. The pipes are data buses and power lines, bundled. Give Ty a moment here to suss out a few things.”
“Four and a half,” I said, fighting an urge to jump up and pace.
Kieth’s mutterings became inaudible, his lips moving as he ran his fingers over the piping, each section popping open under his learned touch, multicolored wires bulging out in a confused mess.
“Fucking thing’s a walking arsenal,” he said suddenly. “Cates, you’ve been lucky. These bastards have more firepower than you’d imagine, hidden in the arms and legs.” More lip-moving, and then, with a grunt, he leaned forward with his odd, long tool and touched a small black dot on the side of the cavity. There was a flash and a scent of ozone.
“Got one. Kieth knows what to look for now.” More flashes as he jabbed the tool here and there. “Milton, how about handing Ty that small gray box with the red button?”
Milton twisted her wiry frame around and rummaged around the bag and tossed the box to Kieth, who caught it smartly in midair. Kieth waved it around inside the Monk’s cavity and nodded. “He’s quiet. Can’t talk to Mother Church, at least. Ty doesn’t think he can be tracked, either.”