Previous Story: 64. The Purge Script - Part 3 (10th Street Camp)

Winner would have preferred to stay at Cynfo headquarters and his concern over deploying Great Wall too early did not help. He was at least glad to have Crimson and Beater for company. The security chief had kept hold of her own BNW sports sedan throughout the crisis and the trio used it for the journey to 13th Street.

This camp was situated within a bus depot, with hundreds housed in the vehicles themselves. At Ryder Arcadia’s suggestion, his employees had worn their best suits and they were met at the depot gate by a man called Colonel Jagger. He looked to be at least seventy but was a former Green Beret and evidently well-respected by the others at the camp. Despite his age, Jagger had heard of Cynfo Tech and eagerly invited the trio inside.

‘You look young,’ he told Winner as he escorted them towards a large building. ‘But that probably means you know what you’re talking about when it comes to tech.’

‘I do my best, colonel.’

‘Winner is a leader in this field,’ added Crimson. Like Beater, she had left her weapons in the car.

‘Glad to hear it,’ replied the grizzled colonel. ‘Frankly, I’m willing to try anything on these CyMS. We give them what we can but I have to prioritize the regular people.’

‘We understand,’ said Crimson. ‘If all goes well, Great Wall might cure all of the CyMS in San Lazaro.’

‘Amen to that.’

They reached the building, which was guarded by two men with ancient M-16s.

‘Open up, guys,’ ordered the colonel. ‘These people reckon they’ve got a cure for our CyMS.’

The guards pulled the double doors open to reveal an eight-foot wall of tires that stretched across the width of the building. Winner could hear movement beyond it.

‘Very heavy, truck tires,’ said Colonel Jagger. ‘We haven’t had a single escapee yet. So how do you want to do this?’

Winner put down the backpack he was carrying and took out his hardware. ‘I’d like to start with a plug-in, then we can go from there. I just need one subject.’

‘No problem.’ Colonel Jagger gestured to the guards, who took two ladders from the side of the building and placed them against the tires. Leaving their M-16s behind, they climbed up onto the wall. After a brief discussion, the two burly men reached down and pulled out a short, middle-aged woman. She was quite placid and did not react as they lowered her to the floor.

‘She’ll do nicely,’ said the colonel. He had a rope ready, which he used to bind the woman’s wrists behind her. ‘All yours, young man.’

——-

At first, it seemed to go smoothly. Observed by the colonel and the others, Winner installed the Great Wall program in the CyMS. He then monitored her, pleased that her condition remained stable. But as the minutes passed, the noise from the other side of the tire wall grew. They began to hear cries and curses and shouts.

‘Was not expecting that,’ said Winner.

‘Not good,’ said the colonel grimly. He drew his pistol; his men were still ready with their M-16s.

The tire-wall began to shudder under the impact of repeated blows.

‘They never did that before,’ said Jagger. ‘What the hell kinda trick are you guys trying to pull?’

Crimson looked equally concerned. ‘What’s going on, Winner?’

Before he could answer, Winner found himself in sudden, extreme pain. The bound woman had launched herself towards him and sunk her teeth into his right cheek. He could feel warm blood on his skin. ‘Get her off me!’

Hearing a thud, Winner watched as the CyMS collapsed to the ground. Crimson stood there, holding her Fairfield pistol by the barrel.

The next thing he knew, the wall collapsed. One of the guards was crushed by a falling tire and, as the rest came down, his compatriot was struck. Colonel Jagger retreated, M-16 at the ready. In seconds, the first of the CyMS were clambering over the tires, eyes raging. The colonel got off a burst but was soon enveloped by the CyMS who attacked with fists, feet and teeth.

Thankfully, Winner was already being dragged away by Crimson and Gudu.

‘What the hell was that?’ demanded Gudu.

Winner wiped his bloody face with his sleeve. ‘I wish I knew.’   

——-

Artemis was in the passenger seat, recurve bow at the ready. They hadn’t encountered too much trouble but that changed when Plate stopped his van outside the 13th Street camp. People were pouring out of the bus depot, clearly terrified.

Artemis spoke over her shoulder. ‘Flyboy, get that drone up. Ranger, Plate, with me.’

The three of them jumped out and ran up to the gate. Artemis grabbed a passing man. ‘Hey, what’s going on?’

‘The CyMS escaped! They’re attacking everyone. The colonel’s dead!’ The man tore free of her grip and kept running.

Artemis had expected to meet Colonel Jagger, not hear of his death.

‘Look,’ said Ranger, pointing to those who already escaped. They had not gone far and were now milling around, clearly equally fearful of the city beyond the camp.

‘Ranger, you round them up,’ said Artemis. ‘Let’s at least keep them together.’

‘Got it.’ She took a flare from her pocket and lit it before running towards the panicked crowd.

Flyboy came running up, his eyes on the drone control HUD. ‘Everyone’s congregating at the gate. Most of the CyMS broke out of the tire wall containment. If we don’t do something, it will be a massacre.’

Artemis made a quick decision. ‘The 8th Street camp is still intact and not far away. You work out the quickest, safest route, then tell Ranger.’

‘Got it.’

Artemis looked at the gate, where the inhabitants were still streaming through. The wall that surrounded the depot was about seven feet tall – just a little taller than Plate.

‘How’s your climbing?’ she asked.

 ——-

Once they were over the wall, Artemis and Plate hurried around to the rear of the mass congregated by the gate. About half had got out but hundreds were still trapped inside. Individual CyMS were already attacking the inhabitants and a large pack were heading straight for gate. At the back of the crowd were the slowest: the young, sick and elderly.

‘Not on my watch!’ yelled Plate. Drawing his great-sword, he adjusted it to stun mode and waded into the fray, taking out the CyMS with practiced ease. Artemis took her bow from her shoulder and nocked the first of several arrows. She kept on the move and loosed a bolt whenever Plate was seriously outnumbered. Within minutes, the big swordsman was surrounded by incapacitated foes. His effort had inspired others: the pair were now being aided by camp members with M-16s. They had at least defended the weak.

A message from Flyboy came through. ‘Artemis, I’ve got a route. Ranger can follow my drone – lead them to 8th Street.’

‘Nice going, Flyboy. Do it.’   

Plate retreated to her position. He was covered in sweat, breathing hard and barely able to lift his arms. ‘They’re still coming. The guys are running short on ammo too.’

Artemis turned to the gate. Thankfully, most of the unarmed inhabitants were now out. ‘Okay, let’s cover them out of here and then all the way to 8th Street.’

Plate nodded then called out to the defenders, who also retreated, now using their ammunition sparingly.

Once they were outside the gate, Flyboy pulled up in the van. ‘If you jump in the back, we can use the van to protect the camp guys. There’s plenty of spare ammo.’

‘Good thinking.’ Artemis directed Plate and the other defenders into the van. She was the last one in.

Despite the slow pace of the escapees, they were able to keep the CyMS mob at bay. Ranger made good use of her versatile crossbow by igniting a pile of cardboard boxes on the sidewalk.

‘Never seen them work together like that,’ said Plate when he’d got his breath back. ‘It’s weird.’

Artemis used her kinetic pulse arrows to down two more CyMS who were getting a little close.

‘I may have an explanation,’ said Flyboy from the front seat ‘When the drone was scanning the depot, I picked up three people escaping to the east. I’ve ID’d one of them before on a previous mission. She calls herself Crimson. She works for Cynfo.’

Next Story: 66. The Purge Script - Part 5 (Post Mortem)