The Eighth Trumpet (The Jared Kimberlain Novels) (13 page)

“Please notice,” the bearded man went on as he deftly manipulated the joysticks and buttons controlling the Megalons, “that the action occurring on the game boards does not exactly mirror that happening on the monitor. Placement of the figures, as I said earlier, is the key.”

He let the scene proceed for several minutes, long enough for an ample number of televised and live figures to perish, before switching the television off. The figures on the game board stopped instantly. He then popped the wafer cassette he’d been holding into a computer terminal hidden beneath the central game board.

“The cassette’s signals will be interpreted by the computer solely on the placement of the figures,” he explained, “thus taking the place of our over-the-air signals and allowing continued interaction.” He pushed a button and returned his hands to the controls of his figures. Kimberlain watched the motorized figures rush about, seeming more alive than before, more animated, as if released to a will of their own. The Armagills and Neutrons controlled by the computer were again battling the lab man’s Megalons. The Megalons fought bravely, thanks mostly to the superior position they had been provided with, but their numbers were falling so fast there was no hope for victory.

The figures darted about, actually utilizing available cover and appearing to set ambushes. They seemed to be thinking and plotting. The people in the audience were all standing now, clustered together as close to the action as possible, responding enthusiastically to especially colorful sequences of the battle.

“And remember,” the lab man reminded them, “it’s never the same twice. Let’s look at another cassette.”

His hand glided to the slot. He looked a bit puzzled and steadied himself to reach deeper, his head leaning slightly over the jungle part of the game board to better his angle. Kimberlain saw one of the Neutron figures roaring toward him but paid it little heed until the bearded man’s face registered confusion.

“Hold on just a second. I’m having trouble ejecting the—”

The torsoless Neutron blasted away before the man could finish speaking. Along with the familiar sound effects, something seemed to shoot out from its barrel. The effect might have been comical if the bearded lab man hadn’t staggered backwards with hands clutching for his face. They fell back down as he started to crumble to the floor and Kimberlain noted the small splotch of blood in the center of his forehead, a dart probably, and almost certain to be poisonous.

Kimberlain sprang into action instantly, rushing toward Lisa Eiseman and bashing into a number of chairs en route, as the POW! figures commenced their assault. The Neutrons seemed to be in charge, forming the first wave, with their center-placed guns rotating at anything that moved. The first barrage was fired toward the door to discourage a rush for it, while a wave of ten-inch-tall Megalons dropped to the floor and began cutting a straight line forward to cut off access to it, firing at any motion before them. Kimberlain already knew the darts were small enough for each of the sabotaged figures to have a complement of at least six to eight.

He had reached Lisa Eiseman by then and was shoving her beneath him as one of the two armed guards dove low across the floor, going for the console in which the tape controlling this assault was in place. The computer was still in command; the murderous figures were incapable of independent thought. The guard reached the console and was going for the eject button when a pair of Armagills fired at him through the spouts where their mouths should have been. The guard raised his hands to his pierced face, screaming, and tumbled back dead before the armed toy army reached him.

The second guard had drawn his gun and was fighting to steady it with both hands while the only occupants of the room with the composure to move joined ranks behind him, with the deadly toys blocking their route to the room’s only exit. A Neutron rotated on its base toward the guard as he got off a shot that flew wildly astray and struck a sales rep seeking cover against the far wall. The guard tried three more shots, none of which came even close, and by the time he was trying for a fifth another Neutron had locked on to him and fired its dart home.

By then Kimberlain had raised himself into a crouch, with Lisa Eiseman supported behind him. He palmed his fifteen-shot, nine-millimeter Beretta and noted that the POW! figures had managed to cut off all other possible routes to the single door. He and Lisa were alone in this section of the ringed platform as around them TLP employees continued to scatter for cover and safety. Kimberlain listened for the mechanical grinding of the figures’ wheels against tile. They drove in directly from the front for the kill, using built-in levelers to negotiate the steps. But toy after toy was blown into bits of shattered plastic and stubbornly spinning rubber as Kimberlain responded to the grindings by whirling and blasting away.

Somehow they had managed to lock on to Lisa specifically and were circling around to attack from the rear as well as the front. A Megalon figure led the charge from behind, and the Ferryman’s bullet tore its entire torso and head clean off. A pair of Armagills roared at him from the front, close to each other but just far enough apart to require two separate bullets.

They’re sacrificing themselves, damn it! They’re trying to wear me down!

Kimberlain tucked Lisa beneath him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Virtually all the figures from the game board had tumbled down now and were in the midst of a superbly orchestrated all-out assault. They had been programmed by someone who knew the layout of the room perfectly and had anticipated exactly what the reactions of the people would be.

That someone could not have anticipated Kimberlain’s presence, of course, but he was running out of bullets and carried no spare clip.

The Ferryman watched as another of TLP’s employees scattered the mechanical monsters with a chair and rushed down a cleared path toward the door. The Powerized Officers of War he had managed to upend lifted themselves back to their bases just as the man was reaching for the button that would have slid the door open. A dozen darts pierced him from behind ail at once. His spine arched. A single spasm followed as he died.

The rest of the windowless auditorium was filled with whimpers and screams. The POW! figures continued to stalk all those who had moved to take cover. The braver men and women were fighting as best as they could, tossing whatever they could find at the attacking figures. But the toys rallied, forming into another wave that rolled up the aisles toward the barricades erected by their targets.

But their primary target remained Lisa. Kimberlain spun around just as four of the POW! soldiers neared killing range for their darts. A pair of bullets felled the four, leaving him with just three in his clip. The mechanical whirl of the many miniature tires propelling the attacking forces told him he was going to come up woefully short. Beneath him, Lisa, her eyes filled with terror, seemed to be searching for a weapon of her own.

As more of the creatures circled, the Ferryman turned his attention to how they could be focusing so much on Lisa. How could they know she was their primary target? It had to be more than position; it had to be!

Kimberlain shattered two more with one bullet and used another to fell a single attacker. With just one shot left he wondered if the damn little monsters were keeping count. His eyes fell to Lisa’s neck and noted the locket dangling from a silver chain. In the instant of realization that followed his hand swiped forward to tear it free.

“What are—”

Kimberlain wasn’t finished. Her watch was next and then her jewelry. He would never know for sure which held the transmitter the deadly toys had been programmed to home in on, nor did he care. All he knew was that the wave of attacking figures began spinning crazily, suddenly unsure of their motion and firing at random toward anything in motion, including their counterparts around the room.

They’re like a goddamn army!

A TLP employee who had made his defense from the center of the rows had managed to set fire to a sheath of notebook pages tied tightly to a stripped-off belt and was rushing for the door swinging the makeshift weapon madly at the POW! robots. He tripped at the bottom of the steps and they swarmed over him, bases rolling over the flames as if to extinguish them.

That sight gave Kimberlain an idea, and he was starting to search the front wall when a pair of Megalons and a single Armagill leaned their torsos over the level three above his. Kimberlain went for the one in the center, angling his shot so at least one of the others would be taken out in the explosion of debris. He squeezed the trigger and the single Armagill blew apart.

Enough of its fragments found both Megalons to topple them temporarily as well.

Kimberlain’s next action was to yank Lisa down toward floor level, in the direction of a trio of Neutrons on the first tier. The Ferryman stripped off one of his shoes and hurled it at them. It hit solidly enough to topple all three in a heap he and Lisa leaped over before the trio could recover their balance. With his attention still on the front wall, Kimberlain pulled Lisa down to the floor with him and pushed her beneath the tables supporting the various terrains.

“Don’t move,” he ordered her. “Movement attracts them!”

The Ferryman pushed himself backwards and turned to see a Neutron aiming its barrel at him. He swiped at it with his left hand and the miniature monster went flying. Afraid to rise all the way to his feet, Kimberlain crawled around the tables, recalling the position of the bearded lab man when he had reached under for the control panel. His target for now was lodged on the front wall a good ten yards and at least that many mechanical killers away. Their range seemed most limited when firing upward, and he knew this weakness was what he had to exploit.

Wasting no further thought, he rose and leaped in the same motion. He threw his arms up and out so they grasped the ledge of the speaker’s podium. His arms supplied sufficient thrust to pull him atop it, but his balance wavered, and a tumble now would assure his death. The wood trembled beneath him, and, as he felt the base listing, he gave another great leap upward and out.

He landed a foot from the far wall and reached up for the heavyduty fire extinguisher as the nearest POW! figure turned toward him. By the time they were rolling his way, he had torn the ring free and was squeezing the trigger that sprayed clouds of white foam from its nozzle. He aimed it in a wide spray at any of the motorized killers he could find, starting with the closest. The extinguisher’s range of spray was twenty feet, and he used all of that.

Then, continuing to squeeze the extinguisher’s trigger, the Ferryman headed for the computer console. The POW! figures spun crazily, some ending up on their backs or sides in the spasms of mechanical death as the white foam clogged their works. The extinguisher had sissed empty just as Kimberlain located the eject button on the control panel. A press inward popped the tape out onto the floor, and those figures that were somehow still moving stopped abruptly. Kimberlain paused to take a deep breath and then hurried back to help Lisa out from her hiding place.

“It’s over,” he soothed, holding her arm tight. “It’s over.”

She was trembling badly, squeezing her eyes shut while she fought to make herself strong. He drew her close, putting an arm around her shoulder for support, and together they moved toward the sliding electronic door. The other surviving employees rose tentatively to follow, as if expecting another attack any second.

“Oh God,” Lisa was muttering to no one in particular. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. This is all my fault!”

Still alert, Kimberlain moved his finger to the button that would at last open the door. A quick sprint down the L-shaped corridor from there and they would be at the steel security fence, with the nightmare behind them. As the door slid open, the Ferryman advanced ahead of Lisa. He turned into the corridor.

And the life-sized version of Megalon shot a metallic fist straight into his face.

Chapter 12

THE BLOW STUNNED HIM
almost senseless. He lost his legs and felt himself fall backward and land on his buttocks. In the end it was the screaming that revived him. As he came to, he saw the six-foot-tall Powerized Officer of War reach out to grab a shrieking Lisa with its pincers.

The other TLP personnel were stumbling back into the hall of death they had so desperately sought to flee as Kimberlain struggled to his feet. He saw the razor-sharp blade snap out of the slot in Megalon’s other metallic arm, and he threw himself into motion as its pincers continued to snap toward Lisa, who was pressed helplessly against the wall. The Ferryman crashed into the life-size figure with all the force he could muster. The collision sent a bolt of pain through his entire side, centering in his bad shoulder, the one Peet had nearly ruined three years before.

Megalon tilted backward on its base and rolled hard into the wall across the hallway.

Kimberlain staggered sideways, eyes on the spear that was an extension of the thing’s left arm. Megalon’s wheels touched tile again and it rotated its metallic head toward him.

A pair of workers started out the door again, their intent to risk a dash past the POW! robot.

“Get back in there!” Kimberlain screamed at them.

Megalon wheeled toward Lisa again, but its sightless red eyes stayed on the Ferryman. Lisa was sliding her way down the wall sideways, trying to keep herself between Kimberlain and Megalon as she negotiated the corridor. She reached the Armagill replica and started to slant around it when a cold metallic hand grasped her thigh and pulled down hard.

“No!” Lisa wailed, terrified.

The hand pulled down as it held her tight. Lisa flailed futilely, and the motion stripped her of her remaining balance. On the floor now, she tried to kick free.

Armagill’s mouth parted to allow a spear to shoot out and lock. Mechanically, it bent over at the head and lowered the promised death toward its victim. Kimberlain saw what was happening and tried to lunge forward, but Megalon’s pincers shot out toward him, working in tandem with its spear hand. Kimberlain sidestepped and maneuvered to grasp the pincers so he could remain out of range of the spear.