Falling Cities

V-e-r-i-s

The pickup is the loudest method of transport I've ever used. I would have complained had I not seen how happy Lucinda was while driving it. Did the drivers in TIB seems that happy? I guess I never really paid attention.
"How is it powered?" Foster asks from the front seat.
"Gasoline and country music!"
Gasoline, I know about that. It's an ancient fossil fuel. Nobody uses it anymore, except Lucinda I guess.
"Where are we going?" I ask from the back seat. There's a funny thing about being in the back seat.
Nobody listens to you.
"Emmet. A friend of mine. He has something we need. Well, something you need. It's gonna stop TIB, and it's about time too, that damn computer has been keeping me awake for years. It's like.. I don't know.. it's like she's alive, I didn't mean for it when I created her."
"Where's her central core?" Foster asks.
"We kept it hidden, for a long time. To ensure safety. You know the fountain in the middle of town? Well, at the topmost bowl there's a little ladder. It's not completely foolproof. There's still ten feet of water you'll have to climb down through."
"I can't swim." Foster says.
"Me neither, I can't hold my breath for very long."
She sighs. Fingers drum on the leather steering wheel.
"I'm sorry."
It catches both me and Foster so far off guard that I thought I didn't even hear right.
"For what?" I say. "You've done nothing but help us."
She keeps her eyes on the road. But her gaze is strange, I've never seen someone look like that. She's not looking at the road, she's looking into her thoughts.
Foster is leaning agiasnt the passenger window. He's got the same gaze as Lucinda. He looks at me through my reflection in the glass. He's got blue eyes like my mother. He's got brown hair like my father. I wonder.. I've learned so much about genetics. I'm not anything like my parents, are they mine? Or was I crafted in a petri dish? It didn't matter now. I couldn't dwell on things that made me sad, I might accidentally adopt the sad-gazed-look.
Besides, it didn't matter. I was born, chipped, and I grew too age 16, until that chip was removed and now I'm riding in the back of a pickup where nobody listens!
"How much farther." They hear this, maybe it's a welcome distraction.
"About twelve-" she stops.
"No.. no." She floors the gas so hard I fly backward into the seat.
"What's wrong?" Foster's asking, but I'm already looking, I already know.
"We've got company!"
Three black BMW's are weaving through each other behind us, gaining ever so quickly and silently. It's no wonder we didn't notice them sooner.
Their black hides shine like stars in the afternoon sunlight.
Are they after us?
It's a dumb thought, I know they are. But can't I hope?
"Who are they?"
"My old co-workers at the TIB core! Veris you need to duck in three seconds."
"What?"
One.
Two.
Three.
"Now!"
I throw myself unto the floorboards, wedging myself between the seats.
Just as a bullet shatters the rear windshield and glass blows off it like snow.
"Are you okay?" Foster says. But I can't focus on much. He's loading a pistol.
"Take this."
It's mine?
I'd never held a gun. It was heavy, it made my hands tingle, I had so much power. The power to destroy was cupped in my palms.
"Uh, where's the barrel?" I ask.
"Facing you." Lucinda reassures. I shudder then turn the gun around and leap unto the seat. I fire a single round that explodes the tire of the first vehicle. It slows down a little but still follows us with vengeance.
The other two tow forward.
"Duck Veris! Duck!" But I don't duck in time. Foster leaps on top of me and we both tumble too the seat. It's less than graceful too have a gunfight in a car.
He rised and rests the pistol on the seat, he fires a few rounds, all of them miss.
"We can't do this!" I yell. Lucinda is focusing on a little radio, trying to drive and fiddle with it at the same time.
"Emmet, do you copy? We're right outside. We've got a few friends who decided to tag along. Uh.. some help?"
I got the feeling Lucinda didn't like asking for help.
She throws the radio unto the passenger seat and starts to climb toward us.
"Foster! You need to drive!"
"What?!"
"Go! Now! It isn't that hard I'll walk you through it!"
He reluctantly climbs into the front seat and slams the break.
"Oops!" Me and Lucinda are wrenched forward as he hits the gas agian.
"How fast can this thing go?" He demands.
"Eighty, with luck."
I feel the car move faster. It's not comforting either.
"Please slow down!" I beg.
Lucinda shakes her head furiously. Eyes still on our shadowy opponents.
But for a moment they shift to the sky.
"Faster!" She commands.
Foster is sweating, so is Lucinda, and I probably am too.
But I see what she was watching.
Her "friend" has a helicopter.
Her "friend" likes explosives.