Lost Gates Read online

  He fired the SIG-Sauer over his shoulder as he ran, hardly even bothering to sight. There were five, maybe six of them—it was hard to tell with the way in which the lights were messing with his vision—and although they weren’t large they kept in a close formation, moving almost abreast across the width of the corridor. Even the wildest of shots was likely to hit something, and Ryan was no wild shot, albeit on the run and firing over his shoulder without anything more than a glance.

  He was pretty sure that the SIG-Sauer wouldn’t be powerful enough to penetrate the metal shells of their mechanical pursuers. The white spark of light as the slug hit the casing of one of the creatures showed this to be true. A ricochet couldn’t be heard above the blaring sirens. Even though its progress was momentarily slowed as the impact knocked it back and sideways, it did little more than gain the companions an extra yard of distance on that mechanism alone. Knocked back and out of line, it soon righted itself and continued as though nothing had happened, moving at the same pace as the others, but just a little to their rear.

  Jak turned and fired in the same way. The heavier ordnance of his Magnum blaster should make some kind of difference. The recoil from firing over his shoulder and while on the move caused him to stumble momentarily. Ryan almost broke step, instinctively moving toward Jak to halt his fall, should it happen.

  But there was little chance of that. Jak was far too fleet and sure of foot, and he compensated in less than the blink of an eye. He also grinned, hungry with the fire of battle in his belly. The heavier gauge slug had hit one of the creatures full-on, denting the middle of its armor plate and sending it spinning around, its momentum causing an increasing orbit that cannoned it into some of the others, knocking them in turn from their forward momentum.

  The pair gained some time and some valuable distance: not much, but enough for them to hit a bend in the corridor and lose the machines from their sight for a moment. A moment that could be of the utmost importance, for they had a double problem. The first was that they needed to get some kind of cover, find some kind of angle from which they could turn the situation around, so that instead of being pursued they could round on their attackers from some kind of relative safety and then blow the bastards to pieces.

  The second problem was that they were being driven away from the mat-trans unit, with the clock ticking and this obstacle barring their path. They had to knock it out if they were to stand any chance of getting out of the redoubt. Already it had become as simple as that: they had to get out. The armory with its treasure trove, hidden and preserved behind the Plexiglas screen, was now something that Ryan tried to put out of his mind. Whatever they may have been able to plunder from it and take back was now lost to them.

  It would be all they could do to get out in one piece.

  As this flashed through his mind, he kept his eye out for anywhere that would give them cover for attack. The sirens were disorienting, their alternating screech seeming to run in rhythm with the strobe, making it hard to think without his train of thought being interrupted. That would be the point of them, he guessed. Couldn’t be much else. The trouble was that it made it hard for him to see where they could find cover. Everything around him seemed to be red and black shadow, fading in and out of vision. If he tried to stare too hard into the flashing abyss, he found himself becoming mesmerized by the insistent light pulses, his gait faltering.

  It was Jak’s hand, tight around his forearm, that once again brought him out of his reverie and showed him a solution. The albino teen had been keeping his eyes wide open, his own natural albinism meaning that his vision was less affected by the reduction in light. As to the mesmeric effects of the strobe, it had long since been proved that it took a lot to make Jak Lauren lose his focus.

  With two quick gestures, he indicated to Ryan that they should use the rooms on either side of the corridor to mount an ambush. There would be no time to recce either room; they would have to burst through the closed doors and hope for the best.

  Without even the time for this thought to take full shape in his mind, Ryan briefly nodded and took two strides, launching a foot at the door on his side of the corridor. In the blare of sound around them, it was strangely noiseless as it crashed open. The room beyond was also flashing red and black—the whole redoubt, it seemed, had hit this kind of emergency state—and so it was almost impossible for him to see inside the room with any kind of clarity. It didn’t matter. SIG-Sauer raised and cocked, he followed his own forward momentum as it carried him into the room. He swept the interior with his arm. If anything had dared to move, it would have got blasted before he could even register exactly what it might be.

  The room was empty. Without pausing for breath, he pivoted and closed the door until it was almost shut. He got the briefest glimpse of a door doing likewise on the other side of the corridor and knew that Jak, too, had found his room empty. He couldn’t hear them above the sound of the siren, but he knew that their mechanical pursuers had to be closing on them. Whatever kind of sensory equipment they had, he hoped that they wouldn’t have registered what had just taken place, and that they wouldn’t be able, likewise, to sense that the rooms on either side were occupied by life as they rolled past.

  Moments later, through the gap in the door, he could see a blur as the mechanized sec passed by. Were they on wheel, tracks or feet of some kind? It was impossible to tell. Would it make a difference to how they could be defeated? Probably not, he thought.

  With a yell that was to psyche himself, seeing as it wouldn’t be heard above the clamor of the Klaxon, Ryan pulled open the door and swung out into the corridor, adopting a two-footed stance that would enable him to steady himself and take careful aim in the minimum possible time. From the corner of his eye he could see Jak do the same, almost in exact parallel. The albino youth’s stance was looser, but then he had more recoil to absorb from his heavier weapon.

  The machines were a few yards in front, with their backs to the two companions. Neither Ryan nor Jak could be certain, but it was a bet worth taking that they would be unable to turn that quickly. Their backs were exposed, and it was unlikely that they could return fire.

  Just as well, considering that Ryan knew his SIG-Sauer wasn’t effective against their metal plate. He would have to pick his shots with care. Jak’s Magnum blaster could do more raw damage, but the SIG-Sauer needed to be used as a precision tool.

  Despite the situation, he felt calmer now. They were more in control of the situation, and he knew that they thrived in situations like this.

  The first volley of fire was loud, even with the sirens going off around them. The boom of the Colt Python resounded, cutting through the blare of the Klaxon and momentarily deafening Ryan as he stood beside the albino teen. His own weapon sounded like a popgun next to it—or would have done if it had been in any way audible above the other sounds.

  The machines were hit by a hail of fire as Jak and Ryan fired repeatedly. The one-eyed man aimed low. He could just about see in the red shadows that the lower backs of the machines had exposed panels that looked like connectors: to what, he neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that the rear of their pursuers had a weak spot that might just allow him to place a shell that would have some effect. And he was pretty sure that he did. Showers of spark and fire, white in the red and black glare, rose from two of the machines, causing them to suddenly move in erratic orbits around each other, crashing into the others and sending them spinning in their own orbits.

  As they pivoted like targets in old predark fairground attractions, Jak’s Magnum slugs hammered into them. The heavy-caliber ammo smashed the plating that would otherwise have protected them. Two exploded, their innards spilling out as the power units combusted. The pieces showered over the corridor, skidding across the floor and making Ryan and Jak move quickly out of the way of their trajectories.

  The machines that weren’t damaged beyond repair and movement by the hail of fire that let up only instantly while both men reloaded their bl
asters soon found that they were scuppered by their own allies. The rogue and damaged machines caused as much if not more damage than the blasterfire than had precipitated the carnage. Whirling and combusting, they became the engines of their own destruction.

  By the time this had occurred, Ryan and Jak had already turned and were on the move toward the lower levels of the redoubt and their route back to their companions. Satisfied that the machines were no longer a threat they felt safe in turning their backs. And yet, as they ran, they both had the feeling that the machines wouldn’t be the only danger that would beset them before they could find a way back.

  Ryan could feel the pounding of his heart against his damaged ribs as he ran. Almost unconsciously he started to take shorter breaths, trying to save his ribs from strain. Sure, he had felt better after the jump, but he was still carrying the injury, and the strange boost given him by the second jump was now wearing thin with the exertion.

  Jak could sense, rather than see, that Ryan was slowing, and he adjusted his pace accordingly. He wasn’t going to leave the one-eyed man in his wake. They would get through this together, and he was sure that there was something to get through just ahead of them. With the sirens and lights like this, a few automated sec machines wouldn’t be the sum total of the defenses they had triggered.

  They careered around a bend past the armory. Not sparing it a glance, they skittered along the corridor, their feet weirdly silent beneath the noise of the sirens. It could be that the sirens were more than a mere alarm. Their very presence masked so much other sound that it would be a simple matter for any other attack mechanisms to be launched without coming to Ryan’s and Jak’s notice until it was too late.

  So it was only with a modicum of surprise that they saw the sec door between two sections of corridor start to grind down in front of them. The noise of the long-immobile mechanism was drowned out, but from the way that the dust fell in a black rain through the flickering red light, it was obvious that the door had been dormant for a long time, and wasn’t falling with the intended speed. Was it just the strobe that made it seem as though the door was actually shuddering, or was it that the mechanism was stilted enough to make the motion as grinding as it appeared?

  They could only hope so. They were still about a hundred yards from the door, and even though it was falling with an almost painful slowness it was going to be a tight call. There were flickers of movement on the other side of the door, but the black sheet of metal that descended made it almost impossible to make out what might lay in wait for them.

  There would be time for that when they were past the door. Whatever it might be, it wouldn’t matter if they found themselves trapped on this side, cut off from the mat-trans unit.

  The door was now only a couple of yards from the floor; they were more than a couple of yards from the shrinking aperture. There was only one thing to do. Jak launched himself forward, hitting the ground belly-first and skidding over the floor so that he shot beneath the shrinking gap, rolling as he did so that he would come up facing whatever awaited them, blaster in hand and ready to act.

  It was only when he came to his feet that he felt, rather than saw, that Ryan wasn’t beside him.

  The one-eyed man saw Jak launch himself across the floor and under the gap, and he knew that this was the only option that was open to him. Yet he was filled with trepidation. Hitting the floor like that with his ribs as they were was a greater risk than facing whatever was on the other side of the lowering door. In combat, he felt confident. Of the stabbing he could feel with each footfall, each breath, he wasn’t so sure.

  There was no choice in the matter. Jak was already down and under with the door lowering at what now seemed to be an incredibly fast rate. He knew that it was all perception, and that the door was moving at the same rate as it had a few moments earlier. But this shift told him that he had to throw caution to the wind and get down on his belly. It was only later that it would hit him as odd that the door was coming down from the ceiling, rather than in a vertical manner as was the norm. This was obviously no ordinary sec door.

  Only later because, at that moment, the whole of his being was shuddering with the incredible pain that came in conjunction with his contact to the floor. His ribs felt as though they were crushed beneath the weight of his torso as he hit the deck, and rather than skid and slide as Jak had done, he jackknifed and doubled-up in agony, rolling at a much slower speed. That was crucial. He found himself too slow to beat the unrelenting momentum of the door. By the time he reached it, the metal was too low for him to slide under and he found himself bouncing back off it. His body was too thick and muscular to slide and squeeze into the narrowing gap, and he rolled back.

  When he opened his eye, which he’d squeezed shut in almost unbearable pain, he found that he was now stranded on the wrong side of the sec door. He opened that eye in time to see the last vestige of light from the other side of the door disappear behind the bland, dark metal.

  Wincing at the knives of pain that shot across his ribs as he hauled himself to his feet, Ryan wondered how he could break through the door. And he wondered what Jak was facing on the other side.

  But all such speculation was driven from his mind as the low rumbling at his back became felt, rather than merely audible, below the sirens and the strobe. He turned to face the source of the noise.

  “Fireblast!” he gasped, despite the pain the exclamation caused.

  JAK STOOD SQUARE on to the enemy that now faced him. Aware that he was alone, he felt a pang of relief. If he was going to have to face this, then he would rather do it alone. Ryan was struggling, and Jak knew deep inside that whatever he intended, his devotion to his comrade would have divided his attention.

  The thing that was in front of him would demand everything he had.

  It was unlike anything he had seen before, and yet had a sinuous familiarity. He had heard Doc talk of the strange machines made by the whitecoats in the days before skydark, yet he had never really been able to grasp some of what the old man had said. Now, he felt that it was all too clear. The gently writhing creature in front of him—no, not creature, for it was certainly a machine despite the uncanny reptilian manner in which it swayed—was like a snake, raised on its belly so that the head was poised ready to dart forward and attack.

  Jak looked the creature up and down. It was hard to see in the strobing red and black, but it seemed to have no obvious weak spots. In fact, it seemed to be made from one continuous and living piece of metal.

  But there was no such thing that he had ever seen, and from his rudimentary knowledge he was certain that such a thing couldn’t exist. If it was metal, it couldn’t move like that without being ribbed or jointed in some way. It was just a matter of finding those joins. It had to be some kind of fake skin covering it that made it look seamless and sinuous.

  If it was metallic, and ribbed or jointed, then his blaster would be no good. Jak holstered the Colt Python and palmed a leaf-bladed knife in each hand.

  It was then that he realized that the thing worked on the principle of motion detection. For as he moved, his elbows shimmered in sharp darting angles away from his body—and the head of the creature, previously poised and immobile, jerked suddenly in each direction.

  He stopped, suddenly, motionless and alert, studying that which was his prey. It was as still. It seemed strange that there were two such small oases of calm in the midst of the flashing light and two-note roar. They both seemed to stand apart from their surroundings. Jak watched carefully, his own breathing reduced to a shallow draw that was barely noticeable.

  And then he moved, a sudden kinetic blur of action, taking strides that combined with leaps and hops to make his movements erratic and hard to follow. If the machine did what he suspected, he would have to make damn sure that he was hard to follow.

  The blazing light, crackle of heat and choking sprays of concrete dust that followed in his wake showed that he had been correct. The bastard mechanism was fitted with a las
er that pulsed bursts of energy at the areas where Jak had been but a fraction of a second before. It intended to blast him from the face of the redoubt, but he proving just a little too quick.

  But from the heat he could feel in the heels of his combat boots as he moved, a little too quick wouldn’t be quick enough for much longer. The heat was becoming more painful with each burst. It was getting the range and sight of him.

  He wasn’t one for fancy theorizing, but it was pretty obvious by now that this redoubt had been some kind of research base. He’d never seen things like this before, and hoped that he’d get out of here and never see things like it again. Perhaps that was why the armory had been wired. The advanced test stuff was stored there, and by using these mechanical creatures to protect it they were also testing them at the same time.

  It might have seemed odd that this was calmly running through the front of his mind as he kept just a millisecond ahead of the laser fired by the mechanical snake. Odd only if you weren’t Jak Lauren. Operating on instinct and trusting that very asset was what kept him alive. And the best way to tap into that was not to muddle it by worrying about your problem. Think about something else and let the back of the brain sort out a solution.

  It would have to be bastard quick, though. He could feel the blisters forming as his heels burned.

  It flickered across his mind—would Ryan get past the sheet metal sec door?

  “FIREBLAST AND FUCK IT,” the one-eyed man breathed, wincing at the strain on his ribs as he did. The low rumbling that had cut through the siren’s wail now revealed its source: a bottom-heavy, squat flatbed on tracks that were made for a more porous and yielding surface than the concrete floor. The metal caterpillar was scoring the floor, making a noise disproportionate to its size. Ryan had expected some kind of big version of what they had just faced. Not this….