Runaway

Golems chase and shoot at us from behind, the few that remain of the Liberation help keep them at bay. As we run further, a van marked with the IPU symbol pulls up into the driveway. Darn it, it’s probably full of M-droids. But Ezri’s unphased response says otherwise as we go forward. The door opens, and instead of a bot, a soldier pokes out their head and waves to us.

“Took you long enough,” Ace says tiredly. A bandage is wrapped around his shoulder.

“Sorry, must’ve been hard for you to sit there away from all the gunfire,” Ezri says as she pulls me into the backseat. “Petra!” She yells.

“Go on without me, I’ll help hold them back!”

Ace backs up the van, bringing it onto the highway. Slamming onto the accelerator, he zooms off into the street. With everybody locked up in a facility, the roads are vacant from any other drivers, giving Ace the freedom to speed away without any obstacles.

“Shiloh and Jasper. Where are they?”

“Rosenwald,” Ezri says.

“The orphanage? Why did you take them there?” I lean forward, growing more insistent, “Why not let them get taken to a hospital, like me?”

She sighs, annoyed by my questions. Well, excuse me for being a bit concerned. “You ever see anyone poking around that place?”

Memories of the fire often causes distress, so the place rarely ever get any visitors, aside from the day we all remember the victims. If someone wanted to hide out there, it’d be the perfect location.

“They would’ve ended up in a facility like you,” she continues, “so for their sakes, it was the only option.”

“What about their injuries?”

“Re:Pills. Had extra on me, but I had to get to them first,” she casts me a hard glare and mutters, “if you had listened and stayed with Ace, you would’ve known that.”

“Tried to tell her, she wouldn’t believe me.”

Or, maybe Ace should’ve just communicated better, but I’m not going to argue about it. I’m just happy they’re alive, safe and sound. Won’t even ask why the Liberation even cared enough to spare their lives. Might be to have an advantage over me, or something like that.

A siren goes off from the city speakers, alerting all of us. “An inmate has escaped from the Corvid facility. ID Number 405, name Calla Hartwell, hair blonde, eyes brown, height 5’7”. Find and return immediately,” a droid says chillingly. “The getaway vehicle is an IPU van. License plate number, 680247.”

As soon as the announcement is finished, all the bots in the vicinity snap their heads towards us from out the van. Since they’re all that fill the city now instead of people, their numbers are even higher than usual. Great, just great. Cars pull up from the intersections, driving close behind the van – too close, they’re jamming into it, attempting to knock us off course. Ace keeps driving, dodging or running over droids that are beginning to crowd the streets, while Ezri grabs her gun and sticks herself out the window.

She shoots at the cars behind us, the lasers piercing through the glass and hitting the droids at the wheels. Once they’re out, for now until more show up I bet, she relentlessly fires at any droid that comes within a hair’s breadth of us without dropping a sweat.

“Ezri, there’ll be less droids around the Mangler attack site,” Ace says.

“Less droids, but more golems. Plus, this route is faster.”

“Is it really a smart idea to lead all these droids to the orphanage?” I ask, watching as they come in hordes from every corner of the city. Every bot in the Capital on their guard all because of a single, unarmed runaway.

“We’re going to the Institute of Laws and Sciences, not the orphanage,” Ezri says.

“What? Why the heck are we going there? I want to see my friends—”

“You can see them later—” a droid grabs onto Ezri’s gun. She seizes it by the skull, violently banging it against the vehicle until a large dent forms and bolts detach. Once the gun is released, she says, “As for why we’re going? The Racer.”

“But the Racer was at the Headquarters… Which is now a pile of rubble, thanks to you. There’s no way it’s still in one piece.”

“You’re right about that, but just one of the prototypes was at HQ. Another exists, located in Katz’s laboratory at the university.”

I cross my arms and ask sarcastically, “So, what are you planning to do? Send me through time?”

“Yes.”

“WHAT!”

Absolutely not, absolutely not! You know what, turn this truck around and bring me back to the Corvid! What was I thinking, putting even the tiniest bit of trust in this woman? I should’ve known she was up to something crazy, she always is!

“We have more company,” Ace says. Golems are stomping into the area from the east, glowing red with power. What next, are they going to bring out the battleships? This can’t get any worse.

Ezri grumbles. “This won’t do, they’ll blast us straight off the track…” She carefully scans the area, assumably on the search for some type of escape route. Do I even want her to find one, knowing what her plan is? Maybe I’d have a better chance jumping out the door and running.

Ezri’s gaze stops on a monorail. “Hm, that would work,” she says. “Ace, park the van over there.”

He halts the truck by the monorail stop. The droids await us outside, while the golems are still on the approach. Guns out, Ezri and Ace mow down the bots blocking our path, some of Ace’s shots less than accurate due to his injury. When it’s clear, the three of us rush inside the monorail – me being dragged along after showing some resistance.

“Keep them back,” Ezri says to Ace, then instructs as she faces me, “You, come on.”

We head to the cab, where a droid sits as the driver in the otherwise empty monorail. A few shots to the chest, and it’s done. My jaw drops when Ezri takes its place as operator. She presses a button to close the doors, and in seconds, I’m thrown off my feet as the monorail spurts into the air without warning.

“Do you even know how to control one of these things!?”

“I can fly a ship,” she says calmly, swerving away from crashing into a building.

“This is nothing like a ship!”

“If it flies, it flies, blondie. Go have a seat if you’re just going to nag me, it’s safe for you now.”

Gladly. Anything to be away from her for a little. When I’m back into the passenger car, I flop down on the nearest seat, and clasp my palms over my hood. Peeking up at my reflection in the window, I don’t know what to think of it. Calla is an upstanding citizen, devoted to the IPU, and has the cleanest record imaginable. But this Calla, the one looking back at me, is on the run from a facility, and her rescuers? No other than the Liberation.

The two are nothing alike. Which one am I now?

Down at the city, the bots are persistent, following the monorail from below. Some desperate golems attempt to shoot at us, but we’re too fast for them, even without moving at the highest speeds. For a brief moment, we pass a bird perched on a streetlight – a crow. It’s not the same thing, but it’s similar enough to remind me of a raven. Both the raven of the Corvid, and the one made by Dan.

His talents will now never be acknowledged by anyone.

Ask me if I’d ever feel “regret” over reporting someone just a few days ago, and I would’ve looked at you like you were nuts. Yet it’s exactly what’s forming a pit in my chest, one I can’t ignore. That’s what separates the two sides of myself the most – the recognition that I might’ve been living a lie.

That maybe, just maybe, my idea of a “good person” wasn’t really “good” at all.

But without the IPU, could I even exist?

It doesn’t take long at all for the university to appear in the landscape, but the ride all throughout was anything but smooth. It’s a miracle we made it, Ezri almost collided us into buildings and billboards on at least six different occasions. But “if it flies, it flies,” right?

“You think you know how to land this, Ezri?” Ace asks.

“We’re about to find out, hang on tight!” She hollers back.

Ace and I hold onto the columns as the monorail abruptly slows, the thing jittering from failing to connect with some generating tracks, no doubt because of the inexperienced driver in charge. It ruins the grass as it makes contact, skidding across and making deep lines in the dirt. At least we’ve made it, and we’re alive. That’s fine enough.

But wait – I still don’t want to time travel!