The Warning Page 18

  “You know what these are like?” he asked. “They’re like tiny versions of those spider bots in Minority Report. Those things gave me nightmares.”

  “Oh, yeah, those were cool. Would you consider Minority Report a relatively unsung film in the Spielberg canon?”

  “I would indeed,” Jordan said, continuing to look intently through the lens. “But not as unsung as A.I. You think this is what’s making the animals crazy?”

  “If I had one of them on my cerebral cortex, it would make me crazy.”

  “How do you think they work?”

  “Dunno. Maybe they attach to the skin under the fur? Or maybe not. After my mom sedated the crazed dogs, she gave them a thorough examination and found nothing like this. I’m guessing those thingies burrow under the skin and either get up to the brain, which makes the most sense, or attach to the adrenal glands.”

  Jordan looked up from the scope. “But no one is going around implanting these in individual animals, right? I mean, that big bear was a massive beast. I can’t see anyone getting that thing onto an operating table first.”

  “No, there must be some way for these little suckers to attach themselves to the animals and get inside.”

  “And we’re talking about all kinds of animals.”

  “Yeah,” I said, pulling out a chair to sit. “Raccoons, cats, possums …”

  “Coyotes, boars …”

  “Wild hogs, skunks … and Mrs. Porter called my mom to say a bunny bit her leg.”

  “‘Oh, it’s just a harmless little bunny, isn’t it?’” Jordan said, channeling John Cleese from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

  I laughed. “Seriously, though, you know how many people have reported animal attacks to my mom since we got back to town? Thirty-six.”

  “That doesn’t even count my wild boar, who wasn’t being defensive when he attacked me. Like the bear, this guy was coming after me. With ill intent.”

  “Hmm,” I said, sitting back. “It’s like they’re being controlled, commanded to attack through that implant. Wait right there.”

  I sprang up and dashed out to the refrigerator where Mom kept deceased animals. I returned with a stiff black Labrador retriever in my arms.

  “Dinnertime already?” Jordan asked.

  “Help me out with this, goofus,” I said as I placed the canine corpse onto the X-ray table, and Jordan and I positioned its head under the square of light, its legs sticking straight out over the table’s edge. I took the pictures, and we checked out the results.

  “Bingo,” I said, tapping the screen to show Jordan the image lurking underneath the dog’s brain. There was more to this thing than what we’d found inside the baggies. This nanobot had longer and more plentiful tentacles, thin as thread and winding through the cranium like tree roots. These ultra-skinny wires must have been burned up in the cremation.

  “The brain stem is right here,” I said, pointing to an undefined area inside the dog’s skull. “You don’t see it because X-rays don’t show soft tissues like muscles or the brain.”

  Jordan glanced at me, then back at the screen. “We’re sure this is what’s making the animals so aggressive?”

  “It’s the most logical explanation—and the only one we’ve got so far. The animals aren’t rabid and show no sign of disease.”

  He pursed his lips. “So our most logical explanation is that Ishango, a computer, has unleashed an army of tiny bots to take over animals’ brains so they can attack humans.”

  “Yes,” I said. “That is where we are.”

  “But you still think I’m crazy because I said I was attacked by a scientist with a sword arm.”

  “Okay, okay. I may be softening my position,” I admitted. “Can we move on from that?”

  A satisfied little smile passed over Jordan’s face, then dissipated.

  “That document about the implants was dated more than ten years ago,” he said. “Ishango must have made progress since then. If she was doing that a decade ago, what else is she doing—and controlling—right now?”

  CHAPTER 40

  Jordan

  WE GOT THE hell out of Maggie’s place, with her driving quickly but not conspicuously so. We would’ve loved Maggie’s mom’s help, but there was no point in waiting around to see whether she or some thugs from the plant would appear first. Maggie thought we should seek her out in the Woodside neighborhood with her thrush-ridden foal. I wanted Tico. I wanted my team together. These goals weren’t mutually exclusive.

  With cell service still out, we couldn’t call anyone anyway, so Maggie agreed to swing by Tico’s house first, which wasn’t too far from my burnt-out husk of a former home.

  “I suppose there’s no point in telling the police,” I said.

  “They think I’m crazy already,” Maggie said.

  “And the military is an obvious no.”

  “Right. Plus, they’re the ones who stuck these implants into our arms.”

  “Not in your brains, though,” I said.

  “No, these are different … but still creepy.”

  “I don’t think everyone from the military is in on it, by the way,” I said. “Like my friend from the camp, Ears—he seemed okay last time I saw him. And when I was out on the trail the other day, I saw an army squad destroy an aggressive coyote. When I say destroy, I mean incinerate to ashes, like a mobile cremation. They wanted no remnant of that animal—or anything inside it—to remain.”

  “Huh,” Maggie said, turning the car onto Tico’s street.

  “Would those soldiers have been doing Ishango’s bidding? Or might they be a rogue group battling the supercomputer’s animal army?” I wondered aloud.

  “If so, we need to identify who’s in the resistance. We may need them soon.”

  Maggie pulled up in front of Tico’s house, a lime-green wooden structure that looked extra bright now, even at twilight. Did the army paint his place, too? His front lawn looked lush, and all the orange tiger lilies and pale pink roses in front of the house were in full bloom. Something about this tableau struck me as strange, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Wow, that magnolia tree is beautiful,” Maggie said.

  That was it. “Yeah,” I said. “But since when do magnolias bloom in the fall?”

  “Astute observation, Mr. Conners,” she said with a nod. “Shall we?”

  I was about to step out of the car and knock on Tico’s door, but I saw no signs of life there—no lights on, nothing. I turned back to her.

  “First, let’s put this together some more,” I said. “You’re the A science student. What’s your best theory?”

  “Okay, here goes,” she said. “Mount Hope is actually a giant science project for Ishango. She created those tiny mobile implants to insert themselves into hundreds of animals in this town. She arranged for the humans to be evacuated to the camps, and those of us at the healthy one got small implants in our arms. Are they tracking devices? Something more? Not sure. They’re not connected to our brains, as far as I know. You went to the sick camp and got the Steve Austin make-over. Your bones, your muscles—all received a full upgrade under the cover of your car-accident surgeries.”

  “So Ishango arranged for my car accident?”

  “Could be. Or the accident simply presented them with an opportunity.”

  “And Ishango caused the evacuation? Triggered the explosion and radiation leak on purpose?”

  “That’s assuming there was an explosion and radiation leak.”

  I look a long look at my friend. Beneath that increasingly frizzy hair, those bright eyes, and those amazing-find thrift-shop T-shirts (“Space Food Sticks”? Really?) lurked some formidable brainpower.

  “So back to the theory,” she said. “You got the mega implant, and all those doctors who operated on you are under Ishango’s control via implants as well.”

  “Then why aren’t I being controlled by her? Something’s off with a lot of those army guys—and my dad. But I’m normal, which I realize is a
relative thing.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe you were under once, and something went wrong.”

  “The concussion!” I said. “Alpha said the authority was compromised in me.”

  “So until that hit on the football field, you were under Ishango’s control?”

  “I didn’t feel like I was. But maybe everything was in place, and they just hadn’t flipped the switch yet.”

  “They were waiting to activate you as a pod person.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And Ishango needs a controlled environment for her experiments. Hence the quarantine.”

  The rap on my window jolted me to action, and I was about to kick open the car door when I saw Tico’s smiling face.

  “Hey, you guys staking me out?” Tico asked as I opened the door gently.

  “Kind of,” I said, and gave him a handshake/arm-around-the-back bro hug. “There’s crazy shit going on, and I need my teammate.”

  “Well, hold on. I got another teammate inside.” As Maggie got out of the car to join us, Tico went in and came back with Suzanne. “We were doing homework.”

  “You had homework alread—?” Ouch—Maggie’s ankle kick cut me off.

  “Great to see you, Suzanne,” Maggie said.

  “You too,” Suzanne replied with a sweet smile. “Are we gonna defeat those motherfuckers or what?”

  “Defeat or escape?” Maggie asked.

  “Oh, defeat,” Suzanne said. “For sure, defeat.”

  Back in the car, as Maggie drove past a series of increasingly large houses on the town’s south side while we made our way toward the farmland-dominant Woodside, I craned my neck toward the back seat to update Tico and Suzanne.

  “So, wait, they’re after you right now?” Suzanne asked.

  “Yeah, that seems to be the case,” I replied.

  “Well, what seems to be the case is probably not the case,” Suzanne said. “Have you seen how many people are working at the plant and how many soldiers are out on the road? If they wanted you, they’d have you.”

  “Gotta say,” Tico chimed in, “girl makes a lot of sense.”

  “Call me ‘girl’ one more time and see what happens,” Suzanne told Tico with a face of sudden danger.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, and then didn’t duck fast enough as she boxed his ear. Hard.

  “Wow.” I laughed, almost as horrified as I was impressed.

  Then came the screech.

  Crunch.

  Glass flying.

  Air bags billowing.

  Screams.

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER 41

  Maggie

  I COULDN’T SEE. I groped for the seat next to me and felt Jordan’s arm, which was warm and damp.

  Had I been out? For how long? And what was wrong with my eyes? I put my fingers up to my face and felt stickiness. Blood. I ran the back of my hand over my eyes, and light started to stream in. The first thing I saw were Jordan’s brown eyes staring straight at me, unblinking.

  Like he was dead.

  But then he shifted in his seat and let out a groan. I heard rustling behind me and saw Suzanne reaching over to Tico, patting him on the cheeks. He wasn’t moving.

  I fumbled for my door handle, stumbled out, and took in what had happened. A black SUV had T-boned us on the passenger side and had spun away in the intersection, its front hood accordioned.

  I opened the back door on my side, and Suzanne, saying nothing, grabbed Tico under the armpits and assertively yet carefully yanked him out of the car and laid him onto the blacktop. I went around the car to open Jordan’s door, but the handle was cratered. He waved and shouted, “I’m okay.” Phew. He scooted over the driver’s seat and got out.

  Suzanne was on her knees, leaning into Tico’s ear and whisper-ordering, “Come on, Tico, get the fuck up.”

  I heard a faint grunt emerge from the back of Tico’s throat—a good sign, at least as long as it wasn’t a death rattle.

  “That’s my guy,” Suzanne continued. “On the count of three, you’re going to open your eyes. One … two … three!”

  Tico’s eyes popped open and took us all in.

  “Hey, guys,” he said.

  I rubbed the bottom of my shirt over my face, and it came back streaked with blood but not soaked. The gash on my forehead wasn’t too deep, and my left wrist, though sore, didn’t feel like anything was torn or broken.

  I’d expected that Jordan would’ve gotten the worst of it, but he looked fine.

  “You all right?” I asked him.

  “Unbreakable, apparently,” he said, approaching me to brush the hair back from my forehead to check out my wound. He gave it a quick kiss.

  “Gross,” I said, blushing, and turned away toward the black SUV still sitting in the middle of the intersection. Aside from its scrunched front end, the car looked in decent shape—the windshield hadn’t even cracked—yet the driver had yet to exit, and with its dark tinted windows, I couldn’t see who was inside.

  “Maggie!” called out a high-pitched female voice, and there was Jessica George, my old chemistry lab partner, running up from one of the nearby houses. “Oh, my God, are you okay? We saw that car broadside you!”

  “I’m fine, but—” I said, and turned back to Tico, who now was propped up on his elbows.

  “I’m good, I’m good,” he said.

  “You’re in concussion protocol is what you are,” Suzanne said.

  “Hey, guys,” Jessica said with a wave, her bobbed red hair glowing under the streetlights.

  “Hey,” Tico and Suzanne grunted.

  We all looked toward the other car.

  “That guy just rammed you,” Jessica said in a hushed tone.

  “I’d better check whether he’s okay,” Jordan said, walking toward the car.

  “Why do you assume it’s a he?” Suzanne asked.

  Jordan waved over his head and tried the driver’s-side handle, then rapped on the window. “Hello? You okay?” He cupped his hands over the window and peered in. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, backpedaling away.

  Just then sirens blared and spinning lights illuminated the scene as a cop car pulled up. Deputy Ruby got out—it was good to see he’d gotten a new ride—spit some tobacco onto the road, and asked, “Everybody all right?”

  Jordan was still backing away from the black SUV when the door opened and a grotesque figure emerged.

  “Ahh …” came a voice that sounded like razor blades being gargled.

  Deputy Ruby aimed his flashlight at the driver’s face, and the skin was peeled back, exposing teeth and jawbone.

  “Oh, shit,” I muttered.

  Jordan hadn’t been kidding about this guy.

  Alpha.

  I didn’t think anyone else could hear my muted swear, but Alpha must have had supersensitive ears, because he turned right toward me.

  “Margaret—ah—Gooding,” he said as if repeating what was on the menu for dinner.

  Gulp.

  “Do not be afraid, my dear,” he continued, stepping toward me. “I hear only good things: that you’re something of a scientist who—ah—does very well in school. High test scores, too.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Ishango, of course. She values such things in a human.”

  Deputy Ruby took a couple of tentative steps toward Alpha.

  “Are you okay, sir?” he asked.

  “Ah—Rho!” Alpha called over the officer’s shoulder in a delighted sort of wheeze. “You are most troublesome, but it’s good to see you.”

  “I’m surprised you’re out in the open,” Jordan said. “I thought you just lurked around the power plant to hide your broken Halloween mask of a face.”

  Deputy Ruby took another step toward Alpha, spit a gob of tobacco to the side, and placed his hand on his holster. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t—ah—matter,” Alpha said, and with a quick movement of his bony finger, he touched the cop’s temple lightly.
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  Deputy Ruby collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been snipped, and the back of his head banged onto the pavement. His eyes remained wide open, never again to blink.

  “Motherf—” Suzanne exclaimed, starting to charge him, but Tico, calling on his defensive-back instincts, tackled her from behind several feet short of Alpha, whose exposed teeth gave the impression of a perpetual sick grin. He extended his lethal finger toward Suzanne on the ground but then turned toward me.

  “H-how did you do that to Deputy Ruby?” I stammered.

  “He—ah—belongs to Ishango,” Alpha explained with all the excitement of a too-long-tenured history professor. “A Phase II specimen with—ah—controls implanted that I can activate.”

  Jordan and I shot each other a quick glance. So Ishango was implanting humans with the kinds of controls that she’d put into animals.

  “What do you want?” Jordan demanded. “What does Ishango want?”

  “You,” he said. “Your implant was dislodged. We must bring you back under authority.”

  Jordan looked at me and then his friends and Jessica. “You’ll have to kill me first.”

  Alpha smiled, his long teeth showing grotesquely through his cheek.

  “We already did.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Jordan

  BY NOW THE rest of Jessica’s family had come out of her house, and others in the neighborhood were approaching as well. This was not good. On one hand, more witnesses would be helpful—everyone needed to know what was going on. On the other, there was no guarantee that any of these people would survive Alpha. I kept my eyes focused on the disfigured scientist but saw two familiar figures approaching from my right: Luke Bowman, hobbling on crutches, and Troy Cameron, his jaw still wired shut. Luke smirk-nodded at me, and he flipped me a subtle bird with his hand by his waist, but his expression turned stony when he saw glass-eyed Deputy Ruby lying in the road.

  “Maggie, everyone, leave,” I said without losing eye contact with Alpha.

  No one moved. If anything, they closed in even more.

  Everything got quiet, so quiet that the car doors’ click was extra loud. The two men in suits—the one with the chin scar and the one with the gold ring—emerged from the black SUV’s back seats and stepped up to flank Alpha.