Lifel1k3 (Lifelike #1)(45)
“Listen, I don’t want to hurt you,” Lemon said. “I just want to find Eve and Cricket. But you get fancy, Mister Stabby gets dancy, you read me?”
“Y-yes,” Carer replied, eyes on the knife.
“Good. Now take me to my bestest.”
“I’m officially done with today,” Eve sighed. “I’d like it to be tomorrow now, please.”
The leukocytes were swimming toward her through the sludge, moving quicker than anything that big and scary should’ve been able to. Glancing behind, she saw that Cricket had cut a hole in the stomach lining large enough for him to squeeze through, but the wound was still too small for Eve or Ezekiel to follow. Everything was turning a delightful shade of brown.
“Go!” She pushed the little bot into the gap. “Find us those crew tunnels.”
“Eve, I’m not leaving y—”
“That’s an order, Crick!”
The bot made a worried little electronic noise in the back of his throat, but, as ever, he obeyed, turning and crawling through the hole. Eve slung Excalibur off her back and arced the power feed, rewarded with a crackling hum. Turning, she faced down the advancing leukocytes with the weapon held high and ice in her gut.
“Ana?” Ezekiel called.
“You might wanna get down here, Braintrauma,” she called. “Make yourself useful!”
The lifelike had fished a meter-long length of rebar from the trash. He sized up the leukocyte approaching him in an instant, hefting the rusted steel like a club in his remaining hand. The thing scuttled sideways, but with a single, brutal stroke, Ezekiel shattered its skull like glass. The leukocyte rolled onto its back, kicking feebly as the lifelike turned, took a short run-up and leapt ten meters like he was playing hopscotch. He landed beside Eve, pelting her with slime, positioning himself between her and the other five crawlies. Wiping a sluice of dark blood off his face, he raised his weapon, glanced over his shoulder at Eve.
“Useful enough?”
“Don’t get sassy with m—”
With a cacophony of shrieks, the remaining creatures swarmed to attack. Eve raised Excalibur in both fists. Ezekiel moved with that inhuman speed, striking like a thunderbolt. A leukocyte scuttled up to Eve, mandibles clicking, claws snapping.
Though she’d ripped out her damaged memory chip, the chip holding all Eve’s self-defense routines still seemed to be working fine. Sidestepping through the sludge, she cracked her bat across an outstretched claw, felt a flash of current, smelled burning snot. The thing chittered and retreated, nursing its wounded limb, blinking its dozen eyes. Eve drew back for a second swing, but the kraken shuddered once more, the stomach bucking like it was in the middle of an earthquake. Her boots slipped on the treacherous surface, and with a sizzling curse, Eve fell into the slop.
The leukocyte surged forward again with its claws raised. Eve dodged one scything blow, then another, struggling to regain her footing. Her eyes were locked on the beast as she kicked back up, refusing to simply lie down and die. She could feel the girl she’d been inside her head, screaming in horror. But the lifelikes hadn’t killed her. Dregs hadn’t killed her. Fridge Street and the Brotherhood hadn’t killed her. If this was going to be the place she got ghosted, she wasn’t doing it on her knees.
A meter-long length of rebar punched straight through the creature’s skull and out of its lower jaw. The thing twitched, eyes bugging from its head as it let out a final, gurgling sigh and sank down into the sludge.
Ezekiel was standing over Eve, barely out of breath. He tipped an imaginary hat and offered her his arm, like some 20C gentleman asking his lady to dance. She grabbed hold, pulled herself out of the muck, wincing at the pain of her wrenched knee. The other leukocytes were scattered like broken toys, slowly sinking down into the slop. Eve locked eyes with Ezekiel, lungs burning, hands shaking.
“This is the part where most people would say thanks,” the lifelike said.
“I could’ve had him,” she panted.
“No doubt.” He smiled.
“You think you’re pretty smooth, huh, Braintrauma?”
The lifelike shrugged, his dimple coming out to play.
“You’ve got snot on your face,” Eve pointed out.
“You’ve got snot on your everything,” he grinned.
She found herself smiling, but the smile died just as quickly. Words tangled in her mouth, tasting like dust. Should she let them loose? That’d make them real.
All of it real.
“You’re … different than I remember … ,” she said.
It was true. The Ezekiel she’d known in Babel had been softer somehow. Younger. Sweeter. This Ezekiel had an edge to him. Like a knife, sharpened by years in the wastes. He was harder. Fiercer. More dangerous.
But then again, she was, too.
The lifelike’s smile died. Those too-blue eyes turned serious.
“Two years is a long time. I walked a long way.”
“A lot changes on the road.”
“Not everything.”
Eve lowered her eyes. Chewing her lip and not saying a word.
“I … I don’t even know what to call you anymore,” Ezekiel said.
She dragged her fingers through her hair, unsure of the answer herself. The life she’d lived as Eve Carpenter in Dregs was just as vibrant as the memories of her life in Babel. Scavvergirl. Abnorm. Mechanical genius. Deviate. But she was Ana Monrova, too. She knew it now. That spoiled little princess in her palace, always wanting what she couldn’t have. Daughter of a murdered house. Last scion of the Monrova clan.