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Seven Robots Later [Urban Sci-Fi]
24: The Tracking Device

24: The Tracking Device

The next morning, after a night of fitful sleep, I needed to give my swirling anxiety somewhere to go. But Mom wouldn’t let me outside, and now my threats of running away sounded hollow even to me, given her looming extradition. Maybe she’d heard from Laramee about my adventure last night, although that probably wasn’t it. No, she was just on edge, jumping at noises like she expected the worst.

I huddled among the clothes and books in my bedroom, knees pulled to my chest, eyes on the heavy clouds gathering outside my window. When Laramee had taken away that map card, he acted like I was the unreasonable one for looking out for Mom. What exactly was he doing? I mean, some sob story about getting back to your family is exactly what you’d use as cover for actual nefarious plans, right?

It was clear all roads led to Ko Prime’s death in Bayside by way of that second warehouse. I just needed to find the Talisman there—before Otokotronics got their robotic paws on it and ended us all. I’d talked to Mom about my wrong warehouse theory, and she’d reluctantly agreed to let us robo-search it once we reconvened. But I’d yet to tell her about the map card like I’d promised Matt. It was just that she’d fixate on my going out without permission, which admittedly was a stupid thing for me to worry about now.

When Matt came by for our next meeting, I put on my facade of compliance and trudged into the living room. Mom was alternately checking her phone and fidgeting with a dollar store hair tie while Matt sat quiet and gloomy on the carpet, his hair wetted by rain.

I padded over to plunk beside him and see if he was okay. But he just gave me a big-eyed look, jerking his head toward Mom.

He wasn’t going to let me off the hook about looping her in. Plus, if telling Mom somehow helped us find the Talisman … “Hey, Mom. There’s some stuff we should probably talk about.”

“Can it wait till we’re done here? If this warehouse thing is real, it’s a time-sensitive lead I need you guys to follow up on.” She dimmed the lights, pulled her hair into a low ponytail, and strode to the game console.

Matt mouthed: Tell her.

“Uh,” I said. “We found something. A card with a map on it. But Laramee kind of took it away.”

“Well I’m sure he had a good reas—” She stopped, turning to me, incredulous. “Wait, when did you see Laramee?”

Matt’s glare intensified.

My mouth was dry. “Last night,” I said in a small voice.

“Where?”

“His … robot lab.”

Mom’s face contorted through several expressions before settling on stoic resolve. “We’re going to have a little chat when we’re done here, okay?” She slammed the power button on the console and stalked over to perch on the futon.

Before I could protest, the sensory rush of BrainLink flooded into me and I nearly sighed. The TV opened on a split-screen view of a similar warehouse exterior to last time, rain spattering cracked pavement outside a metal building. All the senses except vision unfolded before me, like I was remotely inhabiting a second body at the warehouse while still feeling the carpet under my fingers in the living room.

Interesting, no controllers. We wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Matt and I had our usual bots, the extras only we were compatible with. Mine stood patiently with cold rain wetting his brown skin. I willed him forward, taking a tentative step, his too-tight sneakers splashing on the blacktop.

Garrett’s bot loped up to meet us outside the warehouse as planned, his suit already drenched. “Ko, is that you?”

I dialed Garrett and put him on speaker when he answered. “Pretty sure it’s me.”

“Okay,” Mom said. “There’s an unknown car parked across the lot on the other side of the warehouse, so let’s get inside quickly and quietly.”

Something twinged in my chest. “What car?”

She gave me a sharp look. “A gray sedan, why?”

Matt’s elbow found my ribs.

I rubbed my side. What were the chances it was Agent Summers? Maybe Otokotronics hadn’t followed the tracking device I’d lost in her car yesterday. Maybe it didn’t even work. “… No reason.”

Mom narrowed her eyes, finally tearing her gaze away from me. “If the girl somehow accessed the building by the keypad, it would be that one there.”

Garrett edged toward the warehouse, his voice coming through my phone. “It’s possible I can find the manual online. If you’d allow me to—”

“No need,” Mom said. “Laramee paid a visit to the building’s owner and got the code.”

So Mom had told Laramee about the other warehouse. It was just a matter of time.

Matt’s redheaded bot punched in the code as Mom rattled it off. Then he found a flashlight in his inventory and opened the door, muttering something about promises not being worth the paper they’re written on.

I swallowed my guilt and pulled up my own inventory. My eyes went round at the glowing ceramic gun like the one Mom had in her purse. She’d dragged me to the range once or twice, but this was a whole different level of responsibility. “Mom, my bot has a hand cannon …?”

“Believe me, it’s not a decision I made lightly. But there’s a good chance the Talisman is here, and an Iriguchi is the only thing that can reliably put holes through bots—including ours. Don’t worry though. As far as we know, Dia and her crew don’t have one.”

I gulped. “Why not?”

“Long story involving antitrust legislation and non-proliferation treaties. We just want to make sure they don’t get one, okay?”

That sounded ominous. I slunk into the warehouse behind Matt, my pulse in my ears. Otokotronics had taken out Garrett’s old bot just fine with standard guns. But then again, he’d made customizations.

His new bot trailed behind us, letting the door thunk closed.

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In the pale light of Matt’s flashlight, bare concrete stretched out before us, pillars branching to the ceiling like steel trees. The rain pounding the roof was deafening.

I shivered, twitching my bot’s nose at the musty scent. “It’s empty.”

Mom frowned from the futon. “It’s worth searching anyway. While you do, I’ve got other groups to attend to, so—”

The TV chimed, and a map overlay with a blinking dot popped up in the corner of the screen.

Mom stood slowly, cocking her head. “Why the hell is there an open tracking beacon?”

My blood ran cold. A tracking beacon? Like the one I’d maybe lost in Agent Summer’s car? But how had it shown up on our console?

Mom took a step toward the TV. The map with a section of Las Yerbas expanded to full screen. There was Maple. And Coronado. And shit, the fairgrounds. She zoomed in via BrainLink, apparently functional even without a bot. And there, across a parking lot from what had to be our warehouse, was the blinking dot of the tracking beacon.

The familiar thrum of adrenaline coursed through me. If that was really the tracking device I’d mislaid in the FBI sedan, then Agent Summers hadn’t found it. She must’ve somehow come to our search party for a front-row seat—unaware she was also being tracked. But if Otokotronics was still monitoring the tracker, hoping to find Garrett and the Talisman, that meant …

Oh, shiiit. I’d painted a big blinking target on our backs.

Mom dismissed the map, casting a severe glance at me and Matt. “I don’t suppose either of you know anything about that beacon.”

“Mom,” I said, my voice cracking. “I think I screwed up. I might’ve—”

On Matt’s half of the split-screen, the door we’d come through hinged open, letting in the roar of driving rain. A small canister skittered in through it, sliding right toward our bots.

“Run,” Mom yelled, her neck tensing. “Run!”

Both our views bloomed white. A blast shook the warehouse and a shock wave roared through our bots. It was like a giant drum being struck—only with us inside. The concussive boom rattled my bones, my bad tooth throbbing with pain.

I cried out and pivoted to run. My hands trembled, my chest a thunderstorm.

“The far door!” Mom shouted.

I swerved around a pillar and all-out sprinted toward the door, Garrett’s bot hot on my heels.

Matt’s redhead got there first. He slammed the door open and barreled into the downpour.

The scent of fresh rain billowed in. My head swam from the blast as I raced toward the doorway. Shit, we couldn’t even pull the plug because of the hand cannon sitting in my bot’s inventory.

Gunfire echoed through the warehouse behind us—and a razor-edged pain sliced through my thigh.

I screamed again, panic rising in my chest. My bot lost its footing and the floor came up to meet me with a painful crack.

Garrett and Matt dragged me to my feet. Our bots half-stumbled, half-fell out the door into the empty parking lot slick with rain.

Well, not quite empty. Because on the far side of the lot, rain battered a familiar silver sedan with Agent Summers at the wheel.

I wanted to wave my hands, scream for her help. But all that came out was a squeak.

Mom spoke into her phone, a quiet urgency in her voice. “We’re under fire. Small arms and flash-bangs…. Yes, Otokotronics. No EMPs yet. One of ours is damaged. We’ve also got an unknown third party. Gray sedan. Must’ve tailed our bots…. Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay.”

My actual leg pulsed with pain and I felt like I’d taken a baseball to the face. Otokotronics had been monitoring Garrett’s tracker alright—unwittingly following it right to a fed. Only now we were caught in the cross fire.

Mom turned to us, her forehead lined. “If they capture our hand cannon, all our bots will be defenseless. They’d wipe us out. You need to run.”

I steadied myself on the exterior wall, putting weight on my bad leg. Pain lanced through me. “I don’t think I can.”

“Maybe my bot can carry you….” Matt said.

Mom swore under her breath. “Okay, listen. Stanton is redirecting a nearby search group here. Your best bet is to hold your position until they arrive.”

“I believe Otokotronics has a van on the street,” Garrett said through my phone, his bot creeping along the building away from us. “It’s possible there are more of them.”

I cycled through inventory, my heart galloping, and came up with the glowing hand cannon, a thin dial on the barrel. I clicked through the stops, pressing my shoulder blades against the wall beside the door. One dot. Two dots. Solid line symbol.

Mom rubbed her cheeks, teeth clenched. “Do not touch the mode dial. You have no idea how dangerous that Iriguchi is. The superheated gas trailing the rounds can easily take a hand.”

Footfalls echoed from the warehouse. My breath came short and fast, rain running down my bot’s face. Otokotronics would expect us to continue running. This was my chance to fix my fuckup and hold onto the railgun.

I limped toward the door, pain crashing with every step.

“Stop,” Mom said. “Not by yourself.”

But Matt and Garrett had my back, right? I filled my lungs, spun the mode dial, and flung open the door.

A spray of machine gun fire whistled past my head.

Fuck! I ducked behind the partial cover of the doorway.

“Ko!” Mom shouted.

Inside, a barrel-chested man cradled a long gun, stalking forward like an alley cat. Clearly one of the Otokotronics bots from that gunfight. Near the open door behind him, the mulleted human woman from the SUV crept toward us with a gun of her own. Laramee had called her Dia.

“We require the Talisman,” she purred with her vague accent, gliding toward us. “The bosses require it. They have much to teach us, yes? Hard work. Determination. Sacrifice.” She inclined her head. “You know sacrifice, darlings?”

My whole body trembled. We had to stop them. I rotated out as far as I dared, lined up my sights on the man bot just like in one of Matt’s games—and squeezed the trigger without letting go.

A swirling ball of violet gas like a small sun surged from the Iriguchi’s muzzle, long shadows stretching from every pillar. The roar shook my teeth, a chatter of vibrations playing up my arm as a wild hail of railgun rounds peppered all corners of the warehouse. Finally, the torrent of gas guttered out with a sizzle, the sharp scent of ozone and hot steel filling the air.

The bot staggered back, a few lucky rounds having opened his chest and bit into the floor around him. Wait, no … Jesus. It’d punched clear through him, fist-sized holes letting in light from behind.

He swayed, his eyes flickering, and collapsed to the concrete in a spray of sparks and shattered electronics.

Dia ducked aside, tutting with disappointment. “Very poor choice.”

I pulled back and slammed the door, the Iriguchi hot in my hand. Holy crap. That was insane. No wonder Mom didn’t want me armed. Hopefully that was enough to give Dia some pause.

Gunfire drummed the door.

I jerked away. So much for interdimensional railgun as deterrent. The rain was pummeling us now, Agent Summers’ idling sedan almost obscured by the downpour.

“Where’s Garrett?” Matt shouted, his bot plastered against the exterior beside mine, sodden ginger locks in his face.

Crap. Garrett must’ve wandered off. The call with him had ended. That kid really did whatever he wanted, but we had bigger problems now. “How do I reload this thing?”

Mom squared her shoulders with me in the living room, her jaw muscles fixed. “You don’t. You’ve used up all your ammo. What I need you to do now—”

From somewhere outside the warehouse, a lone canister sliced through the rain, leisurely rolling to a stop at our feet.

I only had time to draw back and gasp before it shattered with a thin snap and a thunderous whump—just like my EMP had in that alley.

On screen, both our views winked out, black as midnight sky.