Crap.
I turn back to the elevator and bang on the door. “Jax!” I cry out. “What can I do?” I try to pry open the doors, but they are sealed.
Then suddenly I sense a movement behind the doors. The car istraveling down. “Jax?” I call out. “Are you in there?”
I turn my back to the door. I have to get to him. Is he dead already? Or did the movement of the elevator mean he got out?
I remember how Sutherland used voice commands and I call out, “System! Open the elevator!”
Nothing happens for a second. I can still feel the movement of the car. It’s returning.
Then it stops. The doors open.
I rush in, expecting to find Jax’s body on the ground.
But the elevator is empty.
I stand there, dumbfounded.
I hear noise, lots of noise, behind me. I turn around.
Suddenly the room is full of people, men, women, all holding weapons, and not just darts. Real guns.
“Where is Jax?” I ask them.
No one answers. They look at one another a moment, as if determining who has seniority now that Sutherland is down.
“What do we do?” one of the women asks. “She’s a special.”
“Take her downstairs,” another man says. He’s decked out in what looks like all-black vinyl armor, padded and sort of creepy. He’s just designated himself the leader, apparently. “The committee can remove her status so she can be dealt with.”
“Does she get to keep that thing?” another asks, a younger man who doesn’t seem too certain about me.
I raise the gun again. “I’d like to see you take it,” I say.
The vinyl-armor guy suddenly moves into action, a whirl of body parts, arms and legs. I don’t even see the gun leave my hands, but suddenly he has it.
Whoa.
I step toward him. “Give me that back.”
The guards look at each other. “Take her down,” vinyl guy says. He turns the gun over to look at it. “This has to come from development.Figure out who let it get into the wrong hands.” He tosses it to a woman in a normal blue dress.
His hand closes around my arm. “Let’s go.”
“I want my gun back,” I say. “I’m a special. You can’t ignore this.”
Vinyl guy stops. “I can and I will.”
“Can you?” I ask defiantly. “I’m not sure you are authorized.”
“Nothing happening right now is addressed in the code,” he says. His voice is gravelly and low. He’s like Jax, only younger, and maybe bigger. It’s hard to tell in all that gear.
But I’m going to show him. I haven’t gotten as far as I have just to give up now.
“System,” I call out. “I need protection.”
A red grid flashes into place around me. The black-vinyl guy jerks back. He lifts his wrist to his mouth. “Someone manually override the system. We have a rogue special. I repeat, a rogue special.”
