Danger's Race Page 4

  At least we wouldn’t starve to death.

  By the time we caught up with Case, he was half a kilometer down a narrow path through the trees. Other than the pines and a few large rocks dotting the expanse, the ground was barren and muddy, puddles everywhere, some of them deep. The rain rushed down harder here than we were used to in the city. More of a cascade than a drizzle. “How much farther?” I called.

  “We’re here,” he said, disappearing over a small incline.

  At the precipice, I stopped to evaluate. It wasn’t a sheer drop like the gorge back home. It was a gradual slope, but it still meant we had to make our way down a wet hill. “Daze, grab on to some of the skinny tree trunks as we go,” I told the kid. “It’s slippery.”

  We watched as Case maneuvered around a large boulder just below us and dropped out of sight. I scrambled onto the rock after him and poked my head over, spotting the cave entrance below.

  It was bigger than I’d expected.

  I tossed my legs over the edge and dropped down roughly two meters, landing solidly on a narrow walkway. The slope continued down in front of me, but it wasn’t sheer—meaning if we tumbled off, it would suck, but it wouldn’t kill us. I waited for Daze to poke his head over, then I gestured to my left. “Go that way, shimmy down the side. It will be easier than jumping.”

  He nodded, making it around the side to where I was standing in less than a minute.

  The constant, streaming rain formed a flowing curtain of liquid across the entrance. I ducked through, Daze right behind me.

  We were met with stacks of boxes of supplies lined up tightly against the walls. I stopped to assess the space. Most of the containers had markings, and as I moved closer, I could see they were dated before the dark days and looked military, even though there were no markings explicitly denoting them as such.

  “This is so cooool,” Daze cooed as he wandered ahead of me. “I’ve never been in a cave before.” We each took off our packs and set them on the ground, propped against the rocky wall.

  I addressed Case, who was rummaging through a large bin. “Is this a militia storage facility?”

  Case tugged out a large, shimmering piece of fabric. Reflective cloth. I could tell by the fluidity that it was extremely well made. The cheap stuff was chunky and crackled. “It could’ve been once upon a time,” he said. “This was one of Dixon’s locations. He has them all up and down the coast.” Case had told me about Dixon, the militia man who had rescued him and become his mentor years ago. It was because of Dixon that Case knew about the barracks he’d first taken me to. It seemed Case’s resources were vast, which felt a little unsettling. There was so much about this man I didn’t know. He strode past me, the material bunched under an arm, not stopping. “You can thank me anytime.” He made his way out of the cave, his trench coat flapping behind him as he headed back to the craft to cover it up so anything that happened to fly over would have a hard time detecting it.

  It wasn’t foolproof, but it would help.

  “Why should I thank you for trying to fix the fact you forgot to enter the flight plan? I’ll thank you when I damn well feel like it,” I grumbled as I wandered around, inspecting things.

  I found a few months of survival rations, a couple cots folded up against the wall, two empty metal file cabinets, a battered macro-screen, and several pieces of broken furniture. “Why would anyone lug all this crap down here?” I muttered. This would’ve been a temporary shelter at best, and carrying things down that slope would be hazardous to anyone’s health. Food and water and, possibly, one cot. But file cabinets and broken furniture? It didn’t make sense.

  Daze spotted something tucked under a shallow overhang. “Look,” he said excitedly. “It’s a box of guns.” Sure enough, the kid had found an aluminum box with multiple barrels poking out of the top.

  He reached in to grab one, and I stilled his hand. “Not so fast,” I said, gently steering him out of the way. “Old laser guns are extremely unpredictable. We don’t know how long these have been sitting here. If they still have a charge in them, they could go off without warning.”

  As I carefully pulled a gun out to inspect it, Case returned.

  “Hey,” Daze called to him. “We found guns. Holly thinks they might be unstable. Do you know how long they’ve been here?” His voice held eagerness, like even if they worked, I was just going to allow him to take his pick. That wasn’t happening.

  Bender had given him a laser when they’d come in to save us from Hutch and his crew, but that’d been an exception—we’d needed all the help we could get in that situation. But training with a laser gun took time. You had to be careful not to aim at any reflective surfaces, or the bounce back could kill you. Then you had to time your finger on the trigger just right. A small tap would produce a short blast of light. A longer pull would produce a steady stream, which ended when the fuel cell was discharged. Each gun had its own quirks. In order to be successful, you had to know how long a standard blast would last. If you didn’t, a small movement in your wrist could prove deadly.

  In other words, using a laser gun was an art form.

  “Even if they’re not that old,” I told him, “you’re not inheriting a laser gun from this box until we get time to practice.” I set the gun in my hand down and eased another one out of the box. I flipped the housing up and was relieved to see it didn’t have a fuel cube inside, just like the last one.

  Case stopped behind us. “I have no idea how long they’ve been here. I’ve only visited this place once before. Dixon never said much about the stuff in here. We were in and out quickly, only using it as a temporary shelter.” He leaned over my shoulder and took out a gun.

  I checked four more, all of them without cubes.

  A laser gun wouldn’t operate without a nano-carbon cube of concentrated hydrogen. I stood, brushing my gloved hands against my legs. “I don’t think any of them are operational. You can keep looking,” I told Daze, “but be extremely careful. Did you see how I opened them up to check?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  “I’m going to keep checking the place out.” The cave was at least thirty meters in diameter. I wandered to the other side and noticed a darker area to my left. It was the opening to a skinny tunnel.

  I flipped my visor down and stepped through the passageway. There was enough light to allow me to see with infrared. Metal storage lockboxes, less than a meter long and half as tall, lined the narrow, rocky walls, stacked six or seven high. They were engraved with a decorative logo.

  A familiar logo.

  I flicked on my shoulder light and leaned over to read one.

  Surprised, I took a step back. Bliss Corp’s distinctive signature, a large B and C intertwined, with a curved arrow shooting out from the bottom of the C and making a sharp turn to join the two letters through the middle, was clearly imprinted on all the containers.

  The makers of Plush.

  The drug we were on a quest to try to find a cure for.

  A shadow darkened the mouth of the tunnel as Case walked in. I stood on my tiptoes to grab the cool metal container on top of the stack. It was heavier than I thought it would be for its size. I had to flex my muscles to make sure I didn’t drop it.

  Once it was on the ground, I tried to pry open the lid. It wouldn’t budge. “Damn,” I grumbled. “It’s locked from the inside.” Which wasn’t a surprise, since they were standard, professional-grade lockboxes. “All these containers are engraved with the Bliss Corp logo. You wouldn’t happen to know what’s in them, would you?”

  Case shook his head as he crouched beside me. “I’ve never seen them before. Like I said, I’ve only been here once. And, let’s just say, I wasn’t in an investigative state of mind. Can you get it open?” That likely meant that Case had been injured or running from something. If he wasn’t going to divulge on his own, I wasn’t going to ask.

  “Companies used these boxes to keep their valuables safe. They were fairly standard be
fore the dark days. It’s either secured with a mag-strip or a frequency key. My guess is frequency.” Securing things in lockboxes became the norm to try to thwart computer hackers. A hacker could pop a digital lock from afar, and did routinely. It had been a major problem before the dark days. Anything computer-operated had been fair game. The government had tried to crack down on hackers—the jail time for hacking was twenty years minimum—but there had been no stopping them. Companies like Bliss Corp had been forced to spend billions to keep themselves and their secrets safe.

  My hand automatically went to reach inside one of my handy pockets before I realized I wasn’t wearing my vest. I swore. Dill, the asshole, had stolen my favorite article of clothing. I’d gotten him back by activating a radium ball inside it, but that meant my vest had disintegrated, along with everything else I’d stashed in it. I had replacements for most of the things I’d lost, which was a bonus, but had had to resort to packing them in a utility bag until I could commission a new vest to be made.

  A utility bag I’d left in the craft.

  I had some things on me, but not what I needed. I stood, patting my front two pockets, which were semibulging, to double-check. “I left my bag in the craft. I have to go get it.” I’d have to get used to toting that thing around. I needed my stuff to survive. I had time to spare now, but that wouldn’t necessarily be the case next time. I had a loop on my pants to hook it to, but it would take some time to get used to wearing it.

  Before I could head out, Case reached inside his own pocket. “I may be able to get it open with this.” He held a laser key in his hand. It looked similar to a few I had—circular, no bigger than a coin. But his was housed in metal, not the usual lightweight molded poly.

  I squatted next to him as he positioned it in front of the lip of the box. Light shot out of the key, and the box began to melt as Case moved the key in small circles, the metal undulating as it was forced by the high temp of the laser to change its physical state. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “That’s a hot laser, not a light laser. I’ve never seen one that tiny. No wonder it’s housed in metal.” It was the same technology that made my Gem work, but on a micro level. My Gem was considered a very hot laser. The kind that could sear a gaping hole through you in the blink of an eye. This one’s top capability would be burning a pin-sized hole through your finger.

  “The only drawback is that it depletes quickly,” Case said.

  After about ten seconds, it clicked off and he shoved it back in his pocket.

  The metal was gooey and had to cool before we could touch it.

  “What powers that thing?” I asked. “I’ve never come across one before.”

  “A small chemical capacitor,” he answered. “The reaction causes the laser to release at a high rate, but saps after eight to ten seconds. It recharges overnight.” He tentatively placed a finger on the twisted lid, tapping lightly to test the heat.

  Then he pried the lid off.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As Case struggled to get the top off, I contemplated shouldering him out of the way to do it myself. Instead, I reached into my pocket for my ultra-light. It was no bigger than the tip of my finger. I clicked it on, and bright white light flooded the area.

  I set it on the nearest box and scanned the rows, counting thirty-one containers, all with the Bliss Corp logo.

  One last heave, and the top finally came off with a clatter.

  Case panted from the effort as I knelt next to him. We both eagerly glanced inside to see what Bliss Corp had been storing in these lockboxes—containers that someone had taken the time to lug to this remote location to protect. Thirty-one times up and down the slippery, rocky crag. They had to be important.

  Aluminum etch boards were stacked to the top.

  Before the dark days, they were used in professional settings, as well as in schools and universities, as note-taking devices. Anything written on the boards was saved to a data chip in the back, later converted into whatever format you needed for easy transfer to your personal computer. They were necessary in a setting where you couldn’t use voice transcription, like if a professor was lecturing, or you were in a high-powered Bliss Corp meeting.

  Case took one out.

  “Turn it over and see if there’s a chip,” I prompted. He complied, sliding open the seamless compartment on the back.

  No data chip.

  “Damn,” I swore. I was certain the pico had the capacity to read whatever would’ve been on that chip. “Let’s check them all.”

  While we meticulously went through the stack, Daze walked in. “Are those etch boards?”

  “They are,” I answered, “but none of them have their chips. Without them, we’ll never know what went on in those Bliss Corp meetings.” Assuming they were used during meetings—who really knew?

  “People stopped using those a long time ago,” he said knowingly as he stooped down to pick one up.

  “Is that so?” I said, not looking up as I reached for the next board.

  “Yeah.” He ran his fingers over the polished surface. “Someone invented a tiny voice receiver that transcribed whatever you were listening to word for word, then dumped it into an integrated digital tablet, and all you had to do was touch the screen to highlight what you wanted to keep. It made these things obsolete.” He shrugged. “I read about it once when I was a kid.”

  A kid? “You know, Daze”—I shook my head—“if you’re not careful, you’re going to reveal how big your brain really is, and after that, there’s no going back.” I picked up a new etch board, flipping it over. “And here I thought you were just some random street urchin about to terminate himself off a cliff. But in reality, you’re a brainiac.” I chuckled at the word Cozzi had used to describe Darby. The kid—who was definitely still a kid—might be more than smart, he might be brilliant. Retaining information you’d read only once was an incredible talent and extremely useful in our world, where information was not easily accessible.

  But it was too soon to tell him that.

  An overinflated ego wouldn’t help him in the street-smarts department. You needed a different kind of intelligence to stay alive on the street, and he had a long way to go.

  “I’m not that smart. I just remember stuff.” Exactly. He gave me a shy grin. “My dad was the brainiac.”

  “Well, he’s not the only one.” I continued to chuckle as I stood. It was a funny word. I reached up to lift down another box. This one felt lighter. I shook it. Not much noise. These weren’t etch boards. “Okay,” I said, glancing around. “We’re going to have to find another way to unlock the rest of these.”

  Maisie’s muffled voice erupted into the small space. “I detect seven like signatures.”

  I gave the kid a look. “Is she in your pocket?”

  His head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, but I was real careful. I wrapped her in cloth, and I didn’t touch the outside. I couldn’t keep her in the craft. She’s too…”

  “Valuable? I get it. Pull her out and ask her what she’s talking about,” I said. “What are like signatures anyway?” I hope that didn’t mean there were seven status eggs in here. Although they’d bring in a lot of coin on the market, having them gain their freedom all at once would be a nightmare. We’d have to secure them somewhere outside the craft on the way back.

  Daze took Maisie out and unwrapped her carefully, while Case set more boxes on the ground so we’d have better access to them. This was going to be a full-scale operation.

  “Repeat with more detail,” Daze instructed Maisie, holding her so close that his nose was in jeopardy of smudging her. There was a hundred percent chance his breath was fogging up her shell.

  A kaleidoscope of light shot around the room, dotting the walls and the containers with tiny specks of light. After a moment, she said, “Computer software detected in the form of artificial intelligence. LiveBot-compatible, not enhanced.”

  I glanced at Case, hoping he understood the tech jargon better than I did. “Did you get any of t
hat?”

  Case shook his head. “Not really. As far as I know, AI technology was the go-to software for all intelligent devices until around the beginning of the twenty-second century. LiveBot software came after, and it was a significant upgrade, because it could learn from its integrated database and from its environment over time. ‘Not enhanced’ must mean it’s not military grade?” He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  We both looked to Daze. “Well?” I asked. “Is he close?” I didn’t know much either, as there was no need to learn much about AI when it didn’t pertain to our world now. AI wasn’t going to fix my craft or bring me a protein cake.

  “I’m not sure,” Daze said, cupping the status reader to his chest. “LiveBot was replacing AI because it was a superior system. The robots acted human. That’s all I know.”

  “Okay.” I glanced at the boxes. Salvaging was my specialty. If I couldn’t figure out how to open the rest of these, then I should hang up my Gem and call it a day. “According to Maisie, we’re looking for something that possibly contains some kind of intelligent software.” That sounded promising. “I need to head back to Seven. I have something in my utility bag that should work on opening these up.”

  I made my way out of the cave quickly, unable to avoid being doused by the rain curtain, and wound my way around the rocks and up the slippery slope, grabbing on to anything that would support my weight. It took only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

  Once in the clearing, I spotted Seven, covered in reflective cloth. I was impressed at how well camouflaged she was. I hurried toward her, peeling up the fabric to access the passenger door, only needing to loft it a couple meters. The utility bag was easily accessible, wedged between the two front seats.

  After I retrieved it, I slammed the door, dropping the cloth back into place.