Droids And Bots

Chapter 7

“Here. ” Iko raised her hand and knocked on a slab of metal jutting from a huge mound of junk, startling Nora.

She shoved the thoughts aside. Princewill finch would never marry that witch. He could never marry a Lunar.

Nora pushed a few rusted aerosol cans and an old mattress aside before she was able to clearly make out the hover’s nose. “Good eye. ”

Together they shuffled enough junk out of the way so that the full front of the vehicle could be seen. “I’ve never seen one like this,” Nora said, running a hand over the pitted chrome insignia.

“It’s hideous,” said Greg with a sneer. “What an awful color. ”

“It must be really old. ” Nora found the latch and pulled open the hood. She drew back, blinking at the mess of metal and plastic that greeted her. “Really old. ” She squinted into the front corner of the engine, but the undercarriage hid the magbelt clamps from view. “Huh. Point the light over there, would you?”

Nora lowered herself to the dirt. She tightened her ponytail before squirming under the hover, shoving aside the jumble of old parts that had been left to rust in the weeds beneath it.

“Stars,” she muttered when she was able to look up into its belly. Iko’s light filtered down from above, through cables and wires, ducts and manifolds, nuts and bolts. “This thing is ancient. ”

“It is in a junkyard,” said Greg.

“I’m serious. I’ve never seen anything like it. ” Nora ran a hand along a rubber cable.

The light flashed back and forth as Iko’s sensor scanned the engine from above. “Any useful parts?”

“Good question. ” Nora’s vision tinted blue as she connected to her netlink. “Could you read me the VIN by the windshield?” She searched the number as Greg read it to her and had the hover’s blueprint downloaded in minutes, the display creating an overlaid image on top of the engine above her. “Seems to be fairly intact,” she murmured, running her fingertips along a cluster of wires over her head. She followed them with her eyes, tilting her head to trace the path from hoses to pulleys to axles, trying to decipher how it all fit together. How it all worked.

“This is so cool. ”

“I’m bored,” said Greg.

Sighing, Nora searched for the magbelt on the blueprint, but a green error message flashed in her vision. She tried just magnet, and then just belt, finally receiving a hit. The blueprint lit up a rubber band wrapped around a series of gears, encapsulated by a metal cover—something called a timing belt. Frowning, Nora reached up and felt for the bolts and lock washers that attached the cover to the engine block.

She thought timing belts hadn’t been used since internal combustion had become obsolete.

Gasping, she craned her neck to the side. In the deep shadows beneath the vehicle, she could make out something round beside her, connected to the bars overhead. A wheel.

“It’s not a hover. It’s a car. A gasoline car. ”

“Seriously?” said Greg. “I thought real cars were supposed to be…I don’t know. Classy. ”

Indignation flared in Nora’s chest. “It has character,” she said, feeling for the tire’s treads.

“So,” said Iko a second later, “does this mean we can’t use any of its parts?”

Ignoring her, Nora hungrily scanned the blueprint before her. Oil pan, fuel injectors, exhaust pipes. “It’s from the second era. ”

“Fascinating. Not,” said Greg. She suddenly screeched, launching herself back from the car.

Nora started so fast she whapped her head on the front suspension. “Greg, what?”

“A rat just came out of the window! A big hairy fat one. Oh, gross. ”

Groaning, Nora settled her head back into the dirt, massaging her forehead. That made two head injuries in one day. At that rate, she was going to have to buy a new control panel too. “It must have been nesting in the upholstery. We probably scared it. ”

“We scared it?” Greg’s voice carried a shudder with it. “Can we go now, please?”

Nora sighed. “Fine. ” Dismissing the blueprint, she squirmed out from beneath the car, accepting Iko’s offered grippers to stand. “I thought all the surviving gasoline cars were in museums,” she said, brushing the cobwebs from her hair.

“I’m not sure I would label it a ‘survivor,’” said Iko, her sensor darkening with disgust. “It looks more like a rotting pumpkin. ”

Nora shut the hood with a bang, sending an impressive dust cloud over the android. “What was that about having a fantastic imagination? With some attention and a good cleaning, it could be restored to its former glory. ”

She caressed the hood. The car’s dome-shaped body was a yellow-orange shade that looked sickly under Iko’s light—a color that no one in modern times would choose—but with the antique style of the vehicle it bordered on charming. Rust was creeping up from the hollow beneath the shattered headlights, arching along the dented fender. One of the back windows was missing, but the seats were intact, albeit milde

w covered and torn and probably home to more than just rodents. The steering wheel and dash seemed to have suffered only minor damage over the years.

“Maybe it could be our escape car. ”

Greg peered into the passenger’s side window. “Escape from what?”

“Adri. New Beijing. We could get out of the South Lake altogether. We could go to Europe!” Nora rounded the driver’s side and scrubbed the dirt from the window with her glove. On the floor inside, three pedals winked up at her. Though hovers were all controlled by computer, she had read enough about old technology to know what a clutch was and even had a basic idea of how to operate one.

“This hunk of metal wouldn’t get us to the city limits,” said Greg.

Stepping back, Nora dusted off her hands. They were probably right. Maybe this wasn’t a fantasy vehicle, maybe it wasn’t their key to salvation, but somehow, someday, she would leave New Beijing. She would find a place where no one knew who she was—or what she was.

“Plus, we couldn’t afford the gasoline,” continued Iko. “We could trade in your new foot and still not be able to afford enough fuel to get out of here. Plus, the pollution fines. Plus, I’m not getting in this thing. There’s probably decades’ worth of rat droppings under those seats. ”

Greg cringed. “Ew. ”

Nora laughed. “All right, I get it. I won’t make you guys push the car home. ”

“Whew, you had me worried,” said Greg. She smiled because she hadn’t really been worried and flipped her hair off her shoulder.

Nora’s eye caught on something—a dark spot below Greg’s collarbone, visible just above the collar of her shirt. “Hold still,” she said, reaching forward.

Greg did the opposite, panicking and swiping at phantoms on her chest. “What? What is it? A bug? A spider?”

“I said, hold still!” Nora grabbed Greg by the wrist, swiped at the spot—and froze.

Dropping Greg’s arm, she stumbled back.

“What? What is it?” Greg tugged on her shirt, trying to see, but then spotted another spot on the back of her hand.

She looked up at Nora, blood draining from her face. “A…a rash?” she said. “From the car?”

Nora gulped and neared her with hesitant footsteps, holding her breath. She reached again for Greg’s collarbone and pulled the fabric of her shirt down, revealing the entire spot in the moonlight. A splotch of red, rimmed with bruise purple.

Her fingers trembled. She pulled away, meeting Greg’s gaze.

Greg screamed.

Greg’S SHRIEKS FILLED THE JUNKYARD, SEEPING INTO THE cracks of broken machinery and outdated computers. Nora’s auditory interface couldn’t protect her from the shrill memory, even as Greg’s voice cracked and she dissolved into hysteria.

Nora stood trembling, unable to move. Wanting to comfort Greg. Wanting to run away.

How was this possible?

Greg was young, healthy. She couldn’t be sick.

Greg cried, brushing repeatedly at her skin, the spots.

Nora’s netlink took over, as it did in moments when she couldn’t think for herself. Searching, connecting, feeding information to her she didn’t want.

Letumosis. The blue fever. Worldwide pandemic. Hundreds of thousands dead. Unknown cause, unknown cure.

“Greg—”

She tentatively reached forward, but Greg stumbled back, swiping at her wet cheeks and nose. “Don’t come near me! You’ll get it. You’ll all get it. ”

Nora retracted her hand. She heard Iko at her side, fan whirring. Saw the blue light darting over Greg, around the junkyard, flickering. She was scared.

“I said, get back!” Greg collapsed to her knees, hunching over her stomach.

Nora took two steps away, then lingered, watching Greg rock herself back and forth in Iko’s spotlight.

“I…I need to call an emergency hover. To—”

To come and take you away.

Greg didn’t respond. Her whole body was rattling. Nora could hear her teeth chattering in between the wails.

Nora shivered. She rubbed at her arms, inspecting them for spots. She couldn’t see any, but she eyed her right glove with distrust, not wanting to remove it, not wanting to check.

She stepped back again. The junkyard shadows loomed toward her. The plague. It was here. In the air. In the garbage. How long did it take for the first symptoms of the plague to show up?

Or…

She thought of Chang Sacha at the market. The terrified mob running from her booth. The blare of the sirens.

Her stomach plummeted.

Was this her fault? Had she brought the plague home from the market?

She checked her arms again, swiping at invisible bugs that crawled over her skin. Stumbled back. Greg’s sobs filled her head, suffocating her.

A red warning flashed across her retina display, informing her that she was experiencing elevated levels of adrenaline. She blinked it away, then called up her comm link with a writhing gut and sent a simple message before she could question it.

EMERGENCY, TAIHANG DISTRICT JUNKYARD.

LETUMOSIS.

She clenched her jaw, feeling the painful dryness of her eyes. A throbbing headache told her that she should be crying, that her sobs should match her sister’s.

“Why?” Greg said, her voice stammering. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” said Nora. “This isn’t your fault. ”

But it might be mine.

“What should I do?” Iko asked, almost too quiet to be heard.

“I don’t know,” said Nora. “A hover is on its way. ”

Greg rubbed her nose with her forearm. Her eyes were rimmed in red. “You n-need to go. You’ll catch it. ”

Feeling dizzy, Nora realized she’d been breathing too shallowly. She took another step away before filling her lungs. “Maybe I already have it. Maybe it’s my fault you caught it. The outbreak at the market today…I-I didn’t think I was close enough, but…Greg, I’m so sorry. ”

Greg squeezed her eyes and buried her face again. Her brown hair was a mess of tangles hanging across her shoulders, stark against her pale skin. A hiccup, followed by another sob. “I don’t want to go. ”

“I know. ”

It was all Nora could think to say. Don’t be scared? It will be all right? She couldn’t lie, not when it would be so obvious.

“I wish there was something…” She stopped herself. She heard the sirens before Greg did. “I’m so sorry. ”

Greg swiped at her nose with her sleeve, leaving a trail of mucus. Then kept crying. She didn’t respond until the wails of the sirens reached her ears and her head snapped up. She stared into the distance, the entrance of the junkyard somewhere beyond the trash heaps. Eyes rounded. Lips trembling. Face blotchy red.