Chapter 22: Wind Up and Release

Something about the face of the hologram giantess reminded Reynold of his blood mother. He couldn’t help seeing her hair as auburn, even though only shades of green formed the hologram.

She scanned the recruits lined up on the yellow boot prints before her. “Welcome to the Cocoon City State Armed Forces. Call me Ma’am. While I appear human—”

“I won’t eat my vegetables!” The voice came from the far side of the recruits. All heads turned away from the hologram to the source of the voice.

The DI’s face on the stage turned a deep red. “Shut that asshole you call a mouth!”

“I won’t eat my vegetables!” The voice came again, same volume, same intonation, like a petulant child at the dinner table.

The hologram cleared her throat. “Shall we continue? While I appear human, in reality, I am the artificial intelligence responsible for facilitating the resources of Cocoon City, including its Armed Forces.”

“I won’t eat my vegetables!”

One of the third-class drill instructors rushed in from the far side, and another swooped into the row in front of Reynold.

“Um.” The hologram tried to speak to the group, but the madman dragged her focus back to him. “You are no longer prisoners. Consider yourself now conscripted into our struggle with the Pithite Nation. For the entirety of our recorded history, we—the last pocket of humanity on Existence Station—have been at war with the mechanical Pithites.”

“I won’t—” the closest DI tackled the guy, “—eat my vegetables!”

The recruits around the psycho stepped off their yellow boot prints to avoid his thrashing legs. He strained under the weight of the DI. The guy looked short but stocky and had visible body hair poking out from his sweatshirt collar. The other DI sat on his legs.

“Hey, big guy.” The man next to Reynold spoke to him, quiet enough for only them to hear. He had a thick nose and fat lips. His head looked far too large for his skinny frame.

“What?”

“I’m betting if we bolt now, we’ll make it to one of the transports back there. You and me.”

“That’s an idea so crazy,” Reynold slid his eyes to the side, “it just might work.”

It wouldn’t work. This moron, so stupid he didn’t know the depths of his stupidity, thought he came up with something brilliant.

This could be amusing.

“Wait until I give the signal,” Reynold spoke out of the side of his mouth, “then we sprint for the transport right behind us. You and me.”

Pumpkin Head bounced on his heels. “Gotcha.”

“The Armed Forces have given you all bodies with physicality capable of enduring the rigors of war. The next six weeks—”

One recruit delivered a boot to the face of one of the DIs. Reynold couldn’t see which one behind the herd.

“Hey!” The lone mustachioed DI barked and leaped off the stage. The crowd of recruits parted. He charged. The sounds of a fight, blows blocked and footwork, moved through the rows.

“Get ready.” Reynold slipped the words out.

“Yeah.”

The recruit, a taller version of the hairy psycho on the ground, emerged backward from the crowd while he blocked the surgical punches from the DI. As soon as the recruit had no one around him, his leg shot out a roundhouse kick. It landed on the DI’s femur. Any lower and he would have bent the DI’s knee to the side. He looked like he used karate of some sort, honed in tournaments since his childhood. On-on-one in the ring, the guy was dangerous.

Karate Guy pressed the DI back into the crowd. While everyone else zoned out on the fight, Reynold scanned the buildings. There had to be a contingency plan in case someone tried to escape. The straight line of one roof deviated. Someone watched them.

“Soon.” Reynold wound up Pumpkin Head.

“Yeah.”

The DI landed a punch to Karate Guy’s ribs, but Karate Guy wasted no time with another roundhouse kick. One of the other recruits got it in the hip instead and yelped. With a narrow space between them, the DI rushed in, grabbed his opponent in a bear hug, and trapped his arms.

“You ready?” Reynold gave Pumpkin Head’s spring a final twist.

“Yeah.”

The DI lifted Karate Guy off of his feet, bent backwards, and bounced his skull off the concrete with a sickening thud.

“I won’t eat my vegetables!” The psycho half grunted and half howled.

“Now!” Reynold turned as if he was about to take off.

Pumpkin Head darted away from the row. His feet turned into a blur. The freak sure could move. He checked over his shoulder, and his eyes flashed betrayal. A gunshot from the roof resounded over the crowd, a fount of blood leaped from his head, and after a few steps, he fell to his knees. The guy stared at the transport and held out a hand before he collapsed on his back.

His cavernous skull slid open. The scrambled brain matter plopped onto the concrete.

Such a huge brain wasted.

Reynold suppressed a chuckle.

“You aren’t even listening.” The hologram rested her palm on her forehead. “Whatever. Welcome to X-Ray Company.”