A Perfect Machine(57)

He hoped if someone saw him before he got underground, they would just forget. Maybe panic at first, run away, but then, by the time they reached anyone to tell about it, the memory would be trapped behind a curtain of haze.

But someone did see him.

And Henry saw him.

Palermo. Limping in his direction, his silhouette stretching out under a streetlamp.

Palermo glanced up as Henry lurched into view. Palermo stopped in his tracks. He said nothing, just stared up at Henry. His creation, to a certain extent.

Henry loomed over Palermo, stared down at him, breathing. One part of his mind recognized Palermo for who he was, the leader of the Runners. His people. Another part of his mind – the part that cared for Faye, for Milo, and the frustrated part that had no idea what he was becoming – wanted to end Palermo.

“This,” Henry said. “All of this. It’s your fault.”

Palermo held up his hands, said, “Look, I just need to get back to HQ, Henry. We can sort this out. I know what’s happening to you, and we can–”

Henry felt a shudder rip through his body. He lashed out with his free hand, swatted Palermo. Palermo flew through the air, smacked against a tree, his back broken.

Something in his mind – a new voice he was beginning to recognize as not of his making whatsoever – spoke up, said, He is no longer needed.

Henry stomped over to Palermo’s twisted frame. This voice in his head now issued forth from his mouth, almost completely separate from his will: “You are no longer needed.”

Henry brought a thick metal thumb down and ground Palermo’s head into the snowy earth beneath.

Once Palermo was dead, the presence receded, backed down from Henry’s consciousness. It felt like a darkness that had been hiding in his mind all his life had been awakened, and could now slither into and out of his brain whenever it pleased.

Henry continued walking toward the subway tunnels. One block, two.

Then about a block away from the entrance to the old tunnels, four more people saw him. They stopped as Henry lumbered into view, maybe thirty feet away from where they stood.

Marcton and Cleve pulled their weapons. Bill and Melvin followed suit. Marcton said, “Holy mother of fuck.”

Then the shooting began.



* * *



Five minutes earlier, Marcton, Cleve, Bill, and Melvin had been walking quietly toward the nurse’s apartment. Single file.

Like Sand People, to hide our strength and numbers, Marcton thought, and chuckled.

Cleve was about to ask what was funny when Marcton slowed down, stopped, pointed. “Check it out,” he said.

The other three fanned out to the sides, looked where Marcton was pointing.

Melvin said, “What the hell?”

Marcton said, “Dunno, but if Palermo’s there, shit has already gone south, and we’re late to the party.”

From their vantage point, the building seemed to be buckling near the nurse’s floor. Cracks streaked down the outer concrete. Something was going on inside the apartment, but they were too far away to see what.

Then sirens flared up behind them, getting louder.

“Ah, shit,” Bill said. “Do we need to bail, Marcton?”

“Goddamnit,” Marcton said. As good as a yes, so Marcton, Melvin, and Cleve turned around, started heading back to the car.

Bill was just about to do the same when the glass of the nurse’s living room window shattered and the top half of a body flew out, drifted over the balcony, fell into the parking lot.

“Fuck me!” Bill said. The others turned around. “A fucking body – well, half a body – just flew out the window!”

“Shit,” said Marcton. “Let’s get off the street in case someone comes looking out the nurse’s window. No idea who’s up there or what’s happening, so best to stay hidden.”

When the others had already moved off the street, Marcton had to pull Cleve away by the collar, still staring up, slack-jawed and curious. “Damn, I missed it,” Cleve said, a bizarre sense of wonderment filling his voice.

Getting off the street obscured their view a bit, but they could still mostly see the corner of the target building. They watched quietly in the darkness for another few minutes, aware of the sirens creeping closer. Bill and Melvin were tasked with keeping their eyes peeled in case the cops, ambulance, or fire trucks used the street they were on to get to the apartment building.

Just then, more glass shattered and another body flew out over a balcony, fell to the pavement – this time a full body, crashing through the window of the apartment directly above the nurse’s. And this time Cleve saw it too.

“Wow,” he said. “Just fucking wow. You know?” He glanced around at the others, a big dumb grin on his face as though he were a small child watching his first fireworks show.

Marcton didn’t respond. His mind raced as he tried to put the pieces together. He stood thinking for a moment, then said, “We need to get out in front of this. Like, now.”

“What do you want us to do?” Melvin asked.

“Lemme think, hang on. Just lemme…” He rocked side to side, weighing options, possibilities, a deep frown creasing his features. Finally: “Alright, look: whoever’s doing that shit is gonna need to vamoose real fucking soon with the heat that’s coming down on that place, right?”