Page 117 of Ezra
The police peer down over the rails when they hear the loud splash, but they’re helpless to go in after him. Officers and detectives are cursing, helping one another near where the other android detonated. “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know, man,” says another. “Who knows what the fuck TerraPura thinks about, except TerraPura.”
“Kat, are you okay?” Deion calls to me.
“I’m fine,” I reply. I’m shaken; anyone would be after seeing androids bulldoze through people like that without any regard for human life. But I’m not injured.
Ambulance and fire truck sirens howl as they course through the city in the direction of the bridge. Off to the side and out of the way, I watch as the officers advance on the utility vault, their guns trained ahead of them.
Two SWAT officers drag Zoey into view. She’s squirming and crying out in dismay. They slam her down onto the ground and firmly keep her pinned as they cuff her hands together. Her shouts turned into frightened sobs, but it’s hard for me to feel sympathy. They got her. My shoulders sink in relief, and I finally let that anger I’ve been holding in flow freely. How could she do this to me? To Dad? To Ezra? I still haven’t seen any any sign of them, and now I’m terrified of what that could mean.
Officers, wounded from an exchange of gunfire, singed from the explosion, or suffering from broken bones after the androids’ rampage, are being carried out. That’s when I see Dad, injured but alive, being brought out from the utility bunker and led toward an ambulance.
“Dad!” I call to him desperately, forgetting about my own safety as I rush toward him. He’s disoriented and bruised up, but he’s alive. “Dad!”
“Kitty!” We collide, and he wraps his arms around me. “What’re you doing here? It’s not safe!”
“I had to come,” I insist. “I had to help. Where’s Ezra?”
“He’s—” My dad hesitates. “I—I don’t know. They reprogrammed him, but then he attacked the other two androids. It didn’t make any sense.”
I’m not sure what that means. Attacking the other androids? Why? Doesn’t TerraPura work together? Did the reprogramming fail?
“Sir, we need to get you to Carnegie General,” a paramedic instructs, pulling my father away from me.
“No way, he’s not going anywhere with anyone,” I say, suddenly stricken with paranoia. My own friend was in league with TerraPura. Anyone could be them. They’ve infested every dark corner of my world.
“He’s in good hands, ma’am,” the paramedic insists. “And he’ll have an armed escort. I promise.”
“It’s okay, Kitty, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,” Dad says reassuringly. “Contact your mother for me, tell her to meet me there. Hopefully, this is the last hospital for a long time.”
Reluctantly, I let him go and reach out to Mom. She sobs on the phone in relief when she hears the news. Reporters show up in droves, pushing boundaries to get closer to the scene, get better footage. I tune out their commentary, knowing more than they do at this minute. Kyrone Johnson is now here, speaking urgently with Deion.
Why is he here? Has Ezra been injured? Does he need repairs?
I receive a text from Jayne.You were a big help. Great work, Kat. I mean it.
Do you know where Ezra is?I respond, desperate for any word of him. Did he disappear, like so many androids have when handed over to these people? I get a horrible feeling I’ve lost him forever, and tonight was our final night. This can’t be it. It can’t.
She doesn’t respond right away. When she does, dread grips me tightly.Yes, he’s been located. Dangerous. They’re calling in the fire department droid to handle him. He won’t let us get close. He knocked out two SWAT guys.
But he didn’t kill them?
No, they’re on the way to the hospital now.
Then Ezra isn’t fully reprogrammed. Why would a TerraPura android let a human live if they weren’t instructed to? Maybe he’s still in there.
Waiting around is torment. Firefighters arrive on the scene with their own colossal fire bionic, Nolan. He’s a large, powerful android with short-cropped black hair and brown skin, taller than most. He’s dressed in his responder pants and a sleek black T-shirt that hugs every muscle of his upper body. Without hesitation or fear, he enters the utility vault in search of Ezra, while the others hang back.
Ten minutes pass, and then there’s a loud crash of brick and cement. Startled, I watch as the firefighter bionic goes flying through the wall of the vault and out the other side, his heavy steel mainframe impacting against a cemented barricade. He lets forth a mechanical groan as he staggers back up to his feet.
Ezra steps into view amid clouds of dust. I stand anchored in a mixture of relief that Ezra is still here, still alive, alert, and moving, while being similarly worried sick. I’ve never seen him look so devoid of warmth, of everything that makes him who he is. His white eyes are backlit, glowing, and he looks angry. That calm, neutral mask he’s always used on the job has given way to pure hatred and disgust.
“Open fire!” Jacobs shouts. “Bring him down!”
“No!” I shout, mortified by his order.
“No—no! Don’t bring him down—” Deion tries to shout as bullets begin to fly. “Goddammit, stop!”
