orderly and felt his nose break against my
fist. He stumbled back in pain. I caught the second orderly with a chop across the neck, trying not to hurt him too badly.
I was also careful to keep the orderlies between myself and the guards’ guns.
The Elite doctors were rooted in shock. I pushed them aside and went for the guards, who were already clawing for their pistols.
Fortunately, the room was full of equipment, including several monitors on stands.
As I lunged forward, I wrenched one free and swung it like a mace. I took out both guards before they could administer a “fast
death” with their guns.
Alarms were shrieking and strobes were flashing all over the building by now. I could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway.
I grabbed a doctor by the neck—the one who’d never wasted his time learning human medicine—and held him in front of me as
a shield.
“One more step and I start throwing around his body parts,” I yelled at the approaching security team. “And, yes, I’m completely
serious about it, and I’m capable. I’m human, right?”
I backed down the hallway to where it turned. I swung the doctor horizontally, then I sprinted toward the front of the building.
Now I was using him like a battering ram to crash through everything and everyone in my way.
Carts went flying, gurneys were overturned, wide-eyed, shrieking nurses leaped back against the walls to avoid being trampled.
Still holding on to my screeching hostage, I bounded down an escalator to the lower level. Next, I burst into the cafeteria’s
kitchen, where blank-faced robot workers tended the huge, metallic complex, churning out no-cal grub that was also virtually
no-taste.
As I raced through, I dropped the doc into a bin of scraps. I caught a glimpse of his bulging-eyed face as he flopped around
in the rank garbage.
“That’ll teach you to call me a skunk,” I told him.
Then I charged out through a loading-dock door into an alley—and, hopefully, the freedom of the night.
Unfortunately,
I thought,
maybe I am a skunk.
Chapter 25
THE COOL, FRESH night air quickly filled my lungs and began to dry the fevered hospital sweat off my skin. Adrenaline was
keeping the pain at bay, and running was stretching and loosening my traumatized body.
Before long, I was pounding along the pavement at close to my top speed, fifty miles an hour.
I had to see my daughters and my wife—hold them in my arms, tell them I loved them, try to explain that whatever wicked stories
they might hear weren’t true. Or, at least, that there had to be some reasonable explanation for the mix-up.
No matter what else, I wasn’t a traitor. That much I was certain of.
Our apartment wasn’t far from the hospital; I reached the building in less than ten minutes.
Suddenly, I was very nervous and apprehensive.
I paused to listen for sounds of pursuit, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Not so far, anyway. The side-door entrance
recognized my bioprint and opened on contact. The police probably figured this would be the last place I’d go right now. I
hoped so.
Was it possible that Lizbeth had turned on me as totally as Jax Moore said she had? Or was he lying—another part of this insanity?
But why would he lie to me?
This time, when Metallico answered the apartment door, there was no robo-rap music playing, or sounds of any kind. The place
felt empty. The air smelled strongly of antiseptic, and there were cleaning materials left out all over the living room.
“Hello, Hays,” Metallico said. “I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. Sorry about that.”
His tone was flat and neutral, and he seemed downright stiff—like an ordinary android instead of his usual sassy self.
“This is my house. You work here. What do you mean you can’t invite me in?”
“The apartment is being decontaminated.”
“Where are they?” I demanded. “Lizbeth? The girls? I need to know. Right now, Metallico! I’m not in the
fist. He stumbled back in pain. I caught the second orderly with a chop across the neck, trying not to hurt him too badly.
I was also careful to keep the orderlies between myself and the guards’ guns.
The Elite doctors were rooted in shock. I pushed them aside and went for the guards, who were already clawing for their pistols.
Fortunately, the room was full of equipment, including several monitors on stands.
As I lunged forward, I wrenched one free and swung it like a mace. I took out both guards before they could administer a “fast
death” with their guns.
Alarms were shrieking and strobes were flashing all over the building by now. I could hear footsteps pounding down the hallway.
I grabbed a doctor by the neck—the one who’d never wasted his time learning human medicine—and held him in front of me as
a shield.
“One more step and I start throwing around his body parts,” I yelled at the approaching security team. “And, yes, I’m completely
serious about it, and I’m capable. I’m human, right?”
I backed down the hallway to where it turned. I swung the doctor horizontally, then I sprinted toward the front of the building.
Now I was using him like a battering ram to crash through everything and everyone in my way.
Carts went flying, gurneys were overturned, wide-eyed, shrieking nurses leaped back against the walls to avoid being trampled.
Still holding on to my screeching hostage, I bounded down an escalator to the lower level. Next, I burst into the cafeteria’s
kitchen, where blank-faced robot workers tended the huge, metallic complex, churning out no-cal grub that was also virtually
no-taste.
As I raced through, I dropped the doc into a bin of scraps. I caught a glimpse of his bulging-eyed face as he flopped around
in the rank garbage.
“That’ll teach you to call me a skunk,” I told him.
Then I charged out through a loading-dock door into an alley—and, hopefully, the freedom of the night.
Unfortunately,
I thought,
maybe I am a skunk.
Chapter 25
THE COOL, FRESH night air quickly filled my lungs and began to dry the fevered hospital sweat off my skin. Adrenaline was
keeping the pain at bay, and running was stretching and loosening my traumatized body.
Before long, I was pounding along the pavement at close to my top speed, fifty miles an hour.
I had to see my daughters and my wife—hold them in my arms, tell them I loved them, try to explain that whatever wicked stories
they might hear weren’t true. Or, at least, that there had to be some reasonable explanation for the mix-up.
No matter what else, I wasn’t a traitor. That much I was certain of.
Our apartment wasn’t far from the hospital; I reached the building in less than ten minutes.
Suddenly, I was very nervous and apprehensive.
I paused to listen for sounds of pursuit, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Not so far, anyway. The side-door entrance
recognized my bioprint and opened on contact. The police probably figured this would be the last place I’d go right now. I
hoped so.
Was it possible that Lizbeth had turned on me as totally as Jax Moore said she had? Or was he lying—another part of this insanity?
But why would he lie to me?
This time, when Metallico answered the apartment door, there was no robo-rap music playing, or sounds of any kind. The place
felt empty. The air smelled strongly of antiseptic, and there were cleaning materials left out all over the living room.
“Hello, Hays,” Metallico said. “I’m afraid I can’t invite you in. Sorry about that.”
His tone was flat and neutral, and he seemed downright stiff—like an ordinary android instead of his usual sassy self.
“This is my house. You work here. What do you mean you can’t invite me in?”
“The apartment is being decontaminated.”
“Where are they?” I demanded. “Lizbeth? The girls? I need to know. Right now, Metallico! I’m not in the
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