City Of The Living Dead

Chapter 11

Blade had enough self-control left not to charge or even shout. He stood where he was, staring at the cluster of red figures on the tower. He stared as if the intensity of his stare could draw them down from their perch and into range of his sword.

A part of his mind told him that he shouldn't do this, that he was endangering himself and his chances of peaceful relations with the people of this city. It was only a small part of his mind that said this, and the rage in Blade made him totally deaf to it. He didn't care about the danger to himself, not if he could take a few of those red-suited sharpshooters with him. As for peaceful relations-as far as he could see, these people couldn't have cared less about that. If they were going to be this trigger-happy ….

Or were they? There seemed to be confusion among the men on the tower. Two of them seemed to be arguing with the man who'd fired. The wind blurred the words past understanding, but they all seemed to be thoroughly excited about something. Their lean bodies were taut, and their arms waved about frantically. It looked as though something unexpected had happened. Could it be Twana's death-if she were dead? Blade risked stepping over to the edge of the wall and looking down. After a moment he looked away. Even from up here he could tell that he'd brought Twana to her death. She lay face down, her head twisted at an angle to her body that nothing living could ever take.

As Blade stepped back from the edge of the wall, the soldiers started disappearing from the top of the tower. A moment later a door opened onto the top of the wall, dilating like the lens of a camera. Five soldiers filed out and came toward Blade. All of them were carrying their rifles at the ready. The one who'd fired trailed a little behind the other four, and Blade saw the others looking uncertainly back at him. Blade relaxed slightly, but did not sheath his sword and went on willing the soldiers to come closer. If they kept on, they'd be so close that they could hardly use their rifles without hitting each other. He would have no such problem with his sword.

The soldiers came on. Their boots, coveralls, and helmets were all fire-engine red. Apparently they'd never heard of camouflage, or else had no need of it. Their rifles were streamlined, with silver barrels and stocks and butts of dark-blue plastic. They carried black truncheons and small cylindrical green boxes on their web belts. The faces under the helmets ….

The faces had human shape and human features, but all five sets of features were as identical as so many stamped coins. The skin of their faces and hands flexed and creased like living skin, but it had a waxy sheen that Blade had never seen, except in the skin of a dying man or a corpse.

More robots. No, not robots-androids. Artificial beings in human shape, perhaps organic, perhaps with all the parts and processes of a human being. Nonetheless, artificial creations of a biological science generations beyond that of Home Dimension. Were they programmed like the robots, or had they been given human intelligence to match their human forms? Certainly their greater physical versatility would make them more formidable opponents than the Watchers.

Blade decided to take the initiative and see what came of it. As the androids approached, he raised his sword and held in out in front of him, barring the androids' path.

«Halt! What is your business here?»

The five androids stopped as if they'd run into a stone wall, and the one who'd fired raised his rifle to his shoulder. One of his comrades grabbed it by the barrel and, with an angry growl, drew it down again. «He commands like a Master, (a meaningless gabble that might have been a name or a number),» the restraining android said sharply.

«He is not a Master,» said the other.

«We do not know that.»

«Ask him, then,» said a third android. All of them spoke without changing the expressionless blankness of their faces. They all spoke in a clipped, almost comically precise fashion, biting off their words so quickly that Blade had to listen carefully to understand what they were saying.

«You need not ask,» he said. «I am a Master.»

«You are not of the Authority,» said the one who'd fired. He did not raise his rifle, but now his voice held a distinct note of anger that Blade didn't like. «No Master who is not of Authority leaves the Houses of Peace.»

«I am of the Authority,» said Blade. «I have been ordered to travel beyond the wall of the city. The Master you killed was with me. The Authority will not be pleased at what you have done.»

This had no effect on the hostile android, but the other four looked at each other. Finally one of them said, «We must keep you here and call the Authority. They will tell us who you are.»

«You doubt the word of a Master,» said Blade. He made it a statement, not a question. He also made his voice flat and cold, deliberately menacing.

«Yes,» said the hostile android. The others were silent and seemed to be thoroughly uncomfortable about the whole situation.

«It is not permitted to doubt the word of a Master,» said Blade sharply. «Since you have done that which is not permitted, you shall give me your weapon.» He shifted his feet slightly apart, into combat stance, and watched the android's hands and eyes. From long experience he knew that dividing one's enemies and setting them against each other was always a step in the right direction.

«I-will-not-give-it!» said the android. Each word was at a higher pitch than the one before it, until the last one came out a shrill scream.

Blade took a step sideways and got ready to drop his sword and close with the hysterical android. Before he could do anything more, the android went into action. The muzzle of its rifle swung toward Blade. Blade started to drop to his knees, ready to go in under the rifle with the sword. Before either the android or Blade could complete their movements, one of the other androids leaped forward. The hysterical android fired by sheer reflex. The white beam of the rifle took the second android in the head at a range of no more than a single foot. His mouth sagged open, his eyes dissolved into pulp, blood gushed from his nose. He went to his knees, dropping his own rifle. One hand clutched at his killer's belt. Then he went forward on his face in a widening pool of silver-tinged blood.

Blade dropped his sword and snatched up the fallen rifle. Before he could bring it into action, another android closed with the killer, grabbing his rifle and shoving the muzzle skyward. The killer held on grimly and tried to back away, dragging his attacker with him. Blade and the last two androids raised their rifles and sighted on the killer. Before they could fire, the killer whirled around, swinging his attacker with him. The other android gave a tremendous heave, pulling his opponent off his feet but going down with him.

The two androids rolled over and over, kicking and clawing at each other, so thoroughly tangled together that Blade and the other androids didn't dare fire. The fighting androids rolled over several more times, reached the edge of the wall, and vanished over it. Unlike Twana, they did not scream. There was a moment of ghastly silence, then a double-barreled thud, and the crackle of one of the rifles fired by dead fingers. The rifle fired until the air reeked of ozone, then died away, leaving silence behind it.

Blade was the first to break the silence. He pointed his rifle at the last two androids and spoke sharply. «You will give me your weapons. You will go into the tower. You will stay there until the Authority gives you an order to leave. You are all unreliable.» The two androids shuddered at the last word. Blade wondered if it had some special meaning in their programming or training.

«We shall please the Master.» The two androids knelt, put down their rifles, and remained kneeling while Blade picked up the weapons. He examined them, found the power sources, and removed them. Each power source was a small red box, about the size of a pocket calculator. Blade put both boxes in his pack, then hammered the rifles on the top of the wall until they broke apart.

«Now I shall go down from the wall and go to the Authority,» he said. The androids nodded. Still kneeling, one of them touched the top of the green cylinder of his belt. Blade heard a faint hiss and saw a ladder reaching all the way to the ground slide out from the inner face of the wall.

«I am pleased,» he said. «You may now go to your tower.» Blade waited until the androids had vanished, then scrambled down the ladder.

The two fallen androids were both as dead as Twana. Blade left them lying where they'd fallen but took the power cells of their rifles. Then he lifted Twana's body on his back and carried it a mile toward the city. Inside a circle of close-grown trees, he used the girl's own sword to dig a grave. When the grave was deep enough, he laid Twana in it, with her weapons beside her. Then he pushed the earth back over her and finally piled heavy stones from a fallen wall on the grave. When he'd finished, he was filthy and sweating, and he suspected he'd taken more time than he should have.

He also knew that he could have done no less. His good intentions had only brought Twana on a long and futile journey to a wretched death and a lonely grave far from her own village and her own people. He could at least give her a decent burial.

Then he washed himself off in the nearest pond, gathered up weapons and pack, and headed toward the city.

Blade followed an intricate path through the gardens, keeping under cover as much as possible. He hoped he'd kept the two androids on the wall from sounding the alarm or setting up ambushes for him, but he didn't trust them. He did not intend to be an easy target for any of the city's defenders-robot, android, human, or anything else.

Apparently there were some living human beings in this city, or at least there had been within the memory of the androids. He'd be more careful and conciliatory in his approach to these humans, if he found them. He'd also have a few things to tell them about their pet android soldiers!

It took Blade several hours to creep to the edge of the city. By that time it was getting dark, and a rising wind hinted at another storm coming. Blade started looking for an intact, but uninhabited, building to shelter him for the night. Before he entered the city, he stopped and tied one of his spare knives to the muzzle of his rifle with a length of cord. It was an improvised and precarious bayonet, but enough to be a thoroughly unpleasant surprise to any enemy who came to close quarters.

With the rifle held ready, Blade entered the city. It was silent except for the eerie piping of the rising wind, and there was nothing moving-not even a rat or a bird. But this was not a dead city. Shabby, certainly-like the building by the Wall, there were stains and patches and signs of neglect and wear in every street and on every building.

But most of the dark windows held their glass, the tightly closed doors stood straight, the grass of the lawns was neatly clipped, and the streets were swept free of dust and debris. In one street Blade found five six-wheeled trucks parked, and each one was as clean as if it had just come out of a dealer's showroom. They had clear bubble cabs and fat tires that seemed to be made of some sort of woven metal mesh. He could not tell what sort of engine drove them.

There was life in this city-hidden, or perhaps asleep, but certainly there. Blade kept scanning the windows, hoping to surprise some lurking observer. He saw nothing. The streets were bare of cover, and Blade began to feel disagreeably naked and exposed to whatever might be waiting for him.

By now it was almost dark, and he felt a heaviness in the air that told him the storm was close. He came to a ramp leading down to what looked like the mouth of a tunnel and went down into it.

He'd just discovered that the tunnel was barred off by a metal screen, when he heard two sounds. One was the swelling hiss of rain; the other was the unmistakable whine of an engine and the whisper of tires on the street. Blade raced back up the ramp, in time to see one of the six-wheeled trucks roll by. Inside the cab were four figures-one of the android soldiers, two men in blue coveralls, and someone in black with golden hair shining under a green cap. Blade lay flat at the top of the ramp, watching the lights of the truck fade away in the rain.

To his surprise, it stopped no more than a hundred yards down the street. Blade remembered there was an open courtyard with a lawn just about there. Then he dimly saw people climbing out of a cab and flitting about.

At this point the rain started coming down so hard that Blade could no longer see clearly. He smiled, for he'd seen enough. It looked as though some of the people in this city were coming to him, instead of his having to go search them out. He stood up and strode through the rain toward the truck's dim lights.