He turned out to be seven feet tall, carrying a long, hooked scimitar in one hand and a machine pistol in the other. He stalked narrow alleys, between towering skyscrapers like Dean had seen in old books and vids and mags.
Electronic music played, drumming out in a rising tempo, to heighten the feeling of menace.
“Yo, mother. You on Frag turf now and that means you is dead meat.”
The aggressor was a powerfully built figure, with vaguely Afro-Asian features, swinging a fearsome rice flail that hissed through the air.
“Take him, Dean,” Jak urged.
“Which button is for firing the blaster?”
A stream of silver lead shot from the Uzi, splattering the wall of the tenement building behind the menacing figure. But he had ducked under it, darting in and delivering a whirling, crushing blow to the head of the hooded terror, who staggered back and fell in animated slow-mo, finally landing in a crumpled heap against a hydrant.
“So perish all chicken-shit invaders of Frag turf,” crowed the harsh, electronic voice of the victor, who stood there beating his chest.
The screen went dark.
“Let’s go join the others,” Dean suggested. “These aren’t the fun I thought they’d be.”
“One left.” Jak walked and stared at the last machine in the room. “Sounds good.”
“So you try it,” Dean said, his face set in a sullen scowl. “Give me the jack.”
It was called Shield of Freedom and showed a crew-cut American GI flourishing an M-16, one foot on the throat of a brutish Russian soldier. There was a lot of blood around and more enemy soldiers in the background.
“THIS IS THE FINAL PAGE,” Mildred said. “Funny, this is written by someone who was actually there, living through those last dark hours before the world ended. And writing about them. But, somehow, she can’t convey what it must’ve been like.”
“Could anyone?” Ryan asked.
“Did everyone expect that an outbreak of hostilities would mean the end of the world?” Trader asked. “I never quite saw how it worked. Like two men each with the muzzle of their blaster in the other’s mouth, fingers white on the triggers, each of them knowing that if either fired, the other would also shoot. And they’d both inevitably get chilled.”
“Called the balance of terror,” Doc explained. “Only the balance finally tipped over.”
“Carry on reading,” J.B. said. “Like to hear the ending of it.”
” ‘This is really it. We had a lecture about chemical and nerve agents and what to do. Walter said you pushed your head between your legs and kissed your ass goodbye. Seems we’re too exposed here in western California, and as a matter-transfer redoubt we don’t have proper defensive capabilities. So, we start withdrawing in about an hour from now. Take what we can. Command says to take all personal possessions and documents in case they helped an invading force. So, soon as I finish this I’ll pack my clothes and stuff, and then take it with me.'”
TRYING NOT TO MAKE the same mistakes as they had on the other machines, Jak and Dean were painstakingly plowing through the instructions for Shield of Freedom before inserting a quarter and pressing the red Start button.
It was taking a long time.
Jak lost interest and sat by the vid game on the floor, leaning back against the wall.
” ‘MAKES ME WANT TO throw up, thinking those Red bastards might be walking in here one day. Maybe sleeping in my bed. Eating and drinking all our provisions that we don’t take. Morag said we should open all the soft drinks and piss in them and put the tops back on. I believe that good old boy, Walter, has had the best idea yet to give them a shock.'”
“Wonder what this was?” Abe asked quietly. “If there’s any booby traps, it’d be good to know where they are. We’ve been most places throughout the complex.”
“Probably never did anything.” Krysty smiled at Ryan. “Or they rotted with age. Certainly haven’t seen anything that looked like a device.”
“‘He says Ruskies are kids, and they’ll head for the vid games section.'”
“What!” Ryan exclaimed.
“‘Linked a couple of grenades to his favorite, Shield of Freedom. The moment the Commie bastards press the'”