A Perfect Machine(58)

Everyone nodded.

“So. We position two at the front, two round back, and when the fucker or fuckers come out, we bag their asses. Got it?”

More nods, but Cleve looked skeptical.

Marcton sighed. “Speak up, Cleve, or forever hold your goddamn peace. We don’t have all day to debate.”

“Nah, it’s just… Well, that seems pretty simple. And also something they’d be expecting. I mean, wouldn’t it be better to have the element of surprise? Just rush in there and fuck their shit up before they even know what hit ’em?”

As much as Marcton hated to admit it, Cleve might have a point. “Alright, fine, two up the back stairs, two up the front.”

“We’re assuming the building has two sets of stairs,” Melvin said.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, we can’t just assume that. And what about the elevator?”

“Also,” Cleve said, “fire escape.”

“Jesus, when did you guys develop independent thought?” Marcton said. “Fine. Christ. Me and Cleve inside, rushing up the stairs – if there’s only one set, we’ll both use that one. Bill and Melvin, hang down at the bottom of the fire escape. Fuck the elevator – no one in a killing-spree rush is taking the time to wait for elevators.”

Everyone looked satisfied with this plan.

“Great, now can we go?” Marcton said, turned, and started walking toward the building again.

“Actually,” Cleve said, “is it really a good idea to split up? I mean, shouldn’t we–”

There was an enormous crash then, like a bus slamming into a concrete wall. All four of them whipped their heads around in the direction of the sound.

For a moment they saw nothing, but then a dark shape nearly as big as a dump truck passed in front of the moon. The man-shaped thing seemed to hang there for longer than seemed possible, then it fell quickly to the pavement of the front parking lot. They heard an incredible crash, but could not see what happened because a line of trees and a row of bungalows obscured their view.

The event hung between the four men for a long moment, then Cleve broke the silence, saying, “So we’re gonna run now, right? Like, toward home?”



* * *



But as much as they’d wanted to run – as much as Cleve had really pushed for that to happen – they hadn’t. Marcton calmed his men down as best he could by telling them he’d seen the creature, or whatever it was, holding onto something. Maybe someone. He said it had certainly looked like a person to him for that brief moment it was lit by the moon.

“I saw it when the thing turned to position itself for its descent. I saw something, anyway. And what if it was Palermo? What if neither of those two dead bodies that got tossed were him, and then we just fucking leave because we’re scared?”

“Well, shit, Marcton,” Melvin countered, “if that thing was holding Palermo, what chance do you think he’s got? I don’t want to desert him, either, but we have to use our heads here.”

Bill and Cleve stayed quiet while this conversation went on. They were both just jittery, looking over their shoulders every few seconds, on the verge of bolting at any moment. Somewhere nearby, someone locked their car, the horn beeping twice. Cleve nearly nearly shit himself.

But the discussion was brief, and Marcton was no longer in the mood for democracy. “I’m moving to intercept. You can leave if you want, but think on this: if you desert me out here – and maybe Palermo, too – expect to find a knife in your fucking guts the moment I get back to the warehouse.”

That had effectively shut everyone up.

They began walking in the general direction of the apartment building. Not thirty seconds later, the ground shook, sounding like footsteps – but like no footsteps any of them had ever heard before.

“Holy mother of fuck,” Marcton had said when the creature stomped into their line of sight.

And now here they stood, facing the creature down.

When they opened fire, the beast just stood there for a moment, head nearly level with the streetlight above them. When it realized it was under fire, it moved its arm inward to protect whatever was still tucked against its body.

Marcton quickly realized the thing was made mostly of metal, so their bullets were ricocheting madly in every direction, and that one of them could hit Palermo – or whomever was hidden inside the monster’s hand. “Hold your fire!” he yelled. But at first he couldn’t be heard over the cacophony. He yelled louder, his voice cracking on the first word: “Fuck’s sake, STOP!”

The guns went dead.

The beast lifted its head, focused its gaze on them. There was no mistaking the machinery of the thing, but something in its eyes felt organic where they settled on Marcton’s face. Examining him. Assessing the threat level, of course, but more than that. In fact, despite the metal exterior, there was something organic about the entire creature. Something in the way it breathed, the way it shifted its weight from side to side. Marcton would never know it, but at that very moment Henry was trying to access his memories of Marcton. They’d done several Runs together in the early years. Never became close, but Marcton would know Henry to see him – the original Henry.

Unable to retrieve any true memories, instead, weird fantastical elements of several events in Henry’s past coalesced to form a picture in his mind; these elements would become the basis of Henry’s thoughts about Marcton from this point forward. Enough of the elementary wiring in Henry’s brain had changed, been reshaped, that he would never regain his real memories of the man.