Brodie ran over to the window, an awning style that swung up vertically. He tried the latch, but it was rusted shut.
Behind him, he heard digital beeps. Lou was inputting a code on the door lock. Then it opened the door into the main room.
Brodie said, “Stand back.” He unholstered his SIG, aimed at the small window, and fired two rounds, shattering it. Then he took off his suit jacket, wrapped it around his arm, and used it to clear away the remaining shards. He said to Taylor, “Go.”
Taylor did not move. She was frozen, staring at the D-17, which was now in the main room with them and bracing itself against a metal table near the door. It swung its single leg forward and pushed itself along, like a person on crutches. Except it did all the motions too quickly and was rapidly coming toward them.
Brodie repeated, “Go.”
Taylor jumped on the chair, then pulled herself up toward the window.
Lou said in a monotone voice identical to Bucky’s, “You are not fast enough.”
Brodie replied, “Faster than you, asshole.” Then he aimed his SIG at the bot and fired two rounds at its midsection.
The bot twitched backward slightly as the bullets glanced off its titanium armor, barely making a dent.
Taylor pushed herself up and out of the window. Brodie dropped his jacket as he climbed up after her and pulled himself out.
They began to run. They were heading west, which was toward the houses, and most likely where that bastard Dan Klasky was headed, if only to get his car and make an escape.
Taylor glanced over her shoulder. “Scott!”
Brodie turned around. Lou had climbed out the window. But instead of hobbling after them, it had gotten down on its hands and its single foot and was galloping after them like a demonic three-legged dog, and at an impossible speed. It was rapidly gaining on them.
Brodie darted his eyes around as they ran, but did not see any Rangers in the area. Bad luck.
He got on the walkie as they sprinted down the dirt road. He didn’t have time to check the channel but yelled, “Mayday, Mayday! Tin man on the loose. West of the lab.”
Up ahead and a little to the north were a dozen tightly packed shipping containers. Brodie figured that might be their only hope of slowing down their pursuer. He cut to the right and Taylor followed.
He looked over his shoulder again and was shocked to see Lou almost on top of them, maybe twenty feet away, galloping on its three limbs with its bucket head tilted up and fixed on them. They wouldn’t make it to the shipping containers. Not even close. In a few seconds it would be on top of them…
Brodie made the only move he could and stopped, spun around into a firing position, and pumped five rounds into Lou’s head, aiming for the thin polycarbonate strip that protected its sensors as the bot rushed at him.
He dove to the left as the thing lunged at him and barely missed.
Lou scrambled to a stop and pivoted around, and Brodie saw that the sensor strip had cracked. The D-17 was only a few feet from him now and was about to lunge again. Brodie took aim and emptied the rest of his mag toward the sensor strip, then dove again, and when he sprang to his feet the bot was thrashing around on the road and blindly swinging its deadly limbs at the air.
Brodie and Taylor sprinted between the shipping containers, then rounded the corner of one of them and took cover. They waited and listened. Nothing.
Brodie peered out to the road. Lou was gone. The agents stayed there a moment, listening to the quiet night.
Then they heard slow, shuffling footfalls coming toward them, like something dragging along the sand.
Brodie sprinted between the shipping containers with Taylor close behind. They rounded another and stopped again.
The footsteps quickened now. Brodie saw that Taylor had unholstered her pistol. He looked at her and gestured a horizontal line across his eyes. She nodded.
They waited as the sounds grew closer. A streetlamp threw a bright spot on the container across from them, and as the thing approached Brodie saw its shadow against the metal wall. It was upright, holding a rifle and wearing a beret.
Taylor spun out from her cover.
“Wait!” Brodie grabbed her arm and pushed it down as she pulled the trigger and fired a round into the sand.
The Ranger fired back, followed by the bass punch of an EMP blast. It was a blank round.
Brodie and Taylor stared at Corporal Daniel Powell, who lowered his rifle. He said, “I’m sorry, sir, ma’am, I thought—”
