Deprecated Read online

  Keep up with Michael Karr by visiting

  michaelkarrbooks.com

  Copyright © 2018 Michael Karr

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written consent from the author.

  Cover image of girl © ZoomTeam / Fotolia

  ONE

  With practice, even killing gets easier. Especially when killing an Elect.

  Rylee peered into the thermal scope of her rifle. A scene of purples and blues filled her vision, exposing shapes in the night she could not see without her thermal scope. She scanned up the deserted street but saw none of the warm tones of orange and yellow she sought. Just cold blue brick walls, set with light blue windows, and a black street below.

  She held her right hand up to her earpiece.

  “Serg,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. “Are you sure you caught them on the cameras?”

  Her earpiece hissed for a second, then filled with Serghei’s voice. “What, you think I made it up? Three Elects cruising around the slums in the middle of the night. You’re right, I made it up. Go back to bed.”

  Rylee rolled her eyes. “Maybe you dreamt it. You do have a wild imagination sometimes.”

  “I don’t dream about Elects. Unless that Elect happens to be female and—”

  “Enough chatter, you two.” Preston’s voice broke into the line. “Serghei’s caught something on his cameras. We’re going to find out who or what it is. Rylee, I want you to keep moving south. Scan any of the side streets that Serghei’s cameras might miss. And stay off your Harley.”

  “Moving out,” Rylee said.

  “Feng, you keep scouting the west sector. Serg, keep watching those camera feeds.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Serghei replied.

  “And don’t call me that.”

  Rylee stood, slinging her rifle over her shoulder so that the strap ran across her chest. She was on the roof of one of the housing unit buildings in the slums. She sprinted toward the opposite side. Without the aid of her thermal scope, her vision was impaired. There was no moonlight or starlight to speak of. These were shrouded by the perpetual cloud cover that loomed over the city. There were no street lamps or glowing windows, either. Not in the slums at this hour. Only two hours of electricity a day.

  Despite the darkness, Rylee ran confidently toward the edge of the building. She’d spent the last two years training her night vision. Even now, she ran with head sweeping back and forth, utilizing her more sensitive peripheral vision to see what lay ahead of her.

  As she reached the roof’s parapet wall, she sprang onto it, then immediately leaped across to the next building. She landed on one outstretched foot, and kept running, dashing from one building to the next. It was fortunate the buildings were erected so close together. At least, when one needed to jump from one building to the next. In the case of a building fire, it was not so fortunate. Flames could leap just as nimbly.

  After the sixth building, Rylee skidded to a stop, tore off her rifle, and scanned the east-west bound street below her with her scope. Her pulse spiked. A small orange glow flashed inside the scope as she swept it over the scene below. With a jerk she focused on the spot. The orange figure scurried out from between two buildings, a greenish object dangling from its snout.

  She exhaled, her heart rate slowing.

  A rat.

  Not what she was looking for. She watched the rodent as it skulked away. Some who lived in the slums would see that rat as a chance to eat that day. An involuntary shudder ran through her, as she began scratching the tattoo on the back of her right hand. She had never known that kind of hunger. She hadn’t been Deprecated.

  Quickly, she finished her scan of the street.

  We’re taking too long.

  Rylee and the others didn’t know why the Elects had come into the slums. But at that hour of the night, it couldn’t be for anything good. And depending on what it was, these three Elects could be done and gone in a matter of minutes. Time pressed.

  Removing the coil of rope and grappling hook from her shoulder, she secured the hook to the wall’s parapet. Then let the rope drop down the side of the build. Slinging her rifle across her back again, she took hold of the rope and rappelled down. The five-story drop flew by as though she were falling. She only stopped abruptly just before she reached the street, her gloved hands burning from the friction in the rope. From the street, she whipped the rope so that a wave flowed through it, and a moment later the hook clattered to the ground. She re-coiled it, then dashed down the street toward her next cluster of buildings.

  Suddenly, her earpiece hissed. “Bingo!” Serghei’s voice came into her ear. “Camera seven. One of the recordings. Not live. They were headed east. None of the other nearby cameras have anything.”

  “Give us a perimeter to work,” Preston said.

  A few moment’s silence.

  “Housing units 43-D, 48-D, 48-M, and 43-M.”

  “Tripe! Can’t you narrow it down?” Feng’s voice came over for the first time.

  “Sorry, boss. Not enough cameras. We’re underfunded, remember?”

  “We’re not funded,” Preston said. “That’s close enough. Feng, you take 48-M, moving south. Ry, you take 43-D, moving east. I’ll take 48-D and move to intersect Feng. As soon as you have a visual, radio in. Nobody engages until Ry’s got them under scope.”

  “Copy,” Rylee replied, tearing down a side street at a full sprint toward the location.

  “Can’t I rest for a minute?” Feng said, “I’ve been running in the opposite direction forever.”

  “Move it, Feng. There’s no time for slacking,” Preston said.

  “You’re worse than my boss at the docks. Can I switch jobs? I want Serg’s position. He just sits in the hideout and watches movies.”

  Rylee smiled to herself. She could imagine the exasperated expression on Preston’s face, his head shaking.

  “They’re camera recordings,” Serghei said. “There’s a difference.”

  “Serg doesn’t get to shoot Elects,” Preston replied.

  “Good point. On my way.”

  “Me too,” huffed Rylee. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  The line went quiet.

  Rylee reached her assigned corner of the new search area and began ascending the nearest building. Halfway up, a sound made her pause. It came from down the street to her left. Dropping back to the street, she unslung her rifle and brought the scope to her eyes. Again, the familiar purple and blue hues of the thermal scope filled her vision. This time, there was something more. Shades of bright orange and vibrant red. The forms were not organic, but angular, manmade. Electrocycles—three of them. Vehicles of the Elect. Perfect for someone not wanting to be heard in the dead of night.

  Rylee dropped to her knees, unfolded the bipod attached to the muzzle of her rifle, then flattened herself on the street. Despite the heat her body had generated from her run, she shivered as the cold asphalt leached through her clothes to her belly and thighs.

  Jamming the stock of her rifle into her shoulder, she peered back into her scope.

  “Targets possibly located,” she said into her earpiece. “There are three cycles outside one of the housing units—43-H, I think.”

  “Good work,” Preston’s voice came over her earpiece. “Do you have a sighting on the Elects?”

  “Negative.”

  “I’ll be there in three minutes. Do not engage until I get there. Feng?”

  “I’m moving, I’m moving,” Feng said over the line, sounding exhausted.

  Rylee placed her finger near the trigger of her rifle, but not on it.

  Only an idiot goes around with his finger on the trigger all the time. A lesson her grandfather had drilled into h
er since she was old enough to hold a gun. Only when you have your target in sight. Otherwise, you’ll end up shooting something or someone you don’t intend to.

  And where were those targets? She scanned the nearest building. Had they gone inside? The outer door of the building was closed. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t gone in another way, or were careful enough to close the door behind them. A desire to move in closer surged within her. They could be doing anything inside. Vermin. She knew it would be futile, though. Three Elects against a single Norm…

  She shook her head. A wisp of white moisture condensed in front of her like smoke as she exhaled in frustration. Where are you, Preston?

  Suddenly, she noticed something she hadn’t before. One of the windows. Was it open, or entirely missing its glass? Of the hundreds of housing unit buildings, none of them didn’t have at least a few broken or boarded windows. But this one, why would the occupants leave it uncovered? Perhaps if it were in the sweltering heat of summer. Not with the season so deep into autumn.

  A mass of yellow and red appeared in the windows. The form moved quickly, climbing out of the window back onto the street. The precise, fluid motion gave the figure away. It always did. Only an Elect moved like that. Another figure appeared in the window and climbed out in the same precise manner. Elect number two. As soon as the second was on the street, both Elects reached back into the window.

  After a moment, they started to back away. They were holding onto…something. Something warm, judging from the thermal color. Legs?

  “Where are you guys?” she said into her earpiece. “I have positive sighting of two Elects. And I have a feeling they’re not going to hang around much longer.”

  Her earpiece cracked and hissed. “Almost there,” Preston said. “Another minute.”

  We may not have another minute. She adjusted her grip on the rifle.

  The object the Elects were holding was not fully visible. Another person. A Norm, no doubt. Gagged and bound around the ankles and wrists. She couldn’t tell the gender for certain from her current angle. Like Rylee herself, the figure’s hair was cropped short. But any girl in the slums would be a fool not to keep it short. The captured figure’s body was thin—typical for a Norm. Rylee inspected the upper torso. Still hard to say. At this distance, the thermal image was not well defined. There did seem to be the correct curvature in that area.

  A third figure appeared just within the window, holding the captured girl under the armpits. The poor girl was not moving. Practically as rigid as a corpse. Was she unconscious, or under some spell of the Elects? Then she noticed the girl’s head move. Not unconscious. Probably too terrified to fight back.

  Shoot now, she told herself. She could kill one of them, at least. The others may scurry away like the rat she saw earlier. At least the girl would be safe.

  She fixed the scope’s reticle over the head of the first Elect and brought her finger to the trigger. She hesitated.

  Always be mindful of what’s behind your target. Another of her grandfather’s unbidden lessons came into her thoughts.

  By the time she verified the shot was clear, the Elects had moved. A curse escaped under her breath. Her clear shot was gone. The three Elects huddled around one of the cycles, working stealthily.

  They’re going to get away.

  She moved the reticle to the Elect holding the girl’s arms. But the girl’s head was too close. If the girl moved suddenly…No, the shot was too risky.

  Where was Preston?

  They had the girl on the back of the cycle now, the lead Elect already mounted. He was the one to shoot. But the girl’s back was facing her now. Rylee would only get one shot. The back tire, or one of the other Elects? Airless tires were far too common. Not waiting for anything else, she moved her reticle to the nearest Elect, exhaled, and pulled the trigger.

  TWO

  The gun’s report shattered the silent night like the earth splitting in two. It momentarily deafened Rylee and echoed forcefully off the huddled buildings surrounding her.

  “What the blazes was that!” Preston’s voice sounded a mile away, even though it came from her earpiece.

  Rylee ignored him. Not waiting to see the Elect fall, she jumped to her feet, slung her rifle over her shoulder and sprinted down the street toward the other Elect. The one with the girl was already speeding away. Though its electric motor was nearly silent, the hum of its wheels on the asphalt was distinct.

  “Ry, report!” Preston’s voice came again. “Are you there?”

  “I’m not dead,” she replied curtly, not breaking stride.

  She needed to focus. Running in the middle of the street like that left her exposed. Not terribly. The Elects weren’t carrying rifles. She knew they’d likely have handguns, though. But even an Elect would have trouble hitting a moving target at that distance and in such darkness. The real question was would the other Elect stand and make a fight, try to escape on his cycle, or run away through an alley?

  If she were an Elect, she would fight. With their capabilities, she wouldn’t be afraid of any Norm. Perhaps the PNUs did not eradicate one’s sense of self-preservation. Cowards were still cowards.

  This particular Elect seemed to be the cowardly sort. As she drew closer to the spot where the two cycles stood and where the dead Elect’s body lay in the street, the dark gloom cleared a little. There was no sign of the other Elect. Still, she removed her pistol, a Glock 17, from the shoulder harness she wore beneath her jacket. The worm might be hiding around the corner of the alleyway, waiting for her to get closer.

  Two quick bursts of gunshot erupted nearby. Immediately, she dropped to her stomach, pistol aimed at the mouth of the alleyway.

  Nothing was there. The shots hadn’t come from the alley. She knew that. The sound was too distant. And she had seen no muzzle flash.

  “What is going on!” Preston demanded in her earpiece.

  “That was me,” gasped Feng on the line. “Ran into one of the Elects on his cycle. Why don’t those idiots drive with their lights on?”

  “Is he dead?”

  “No way, man. You know I can’t hit nothing moving like that. Scared him off down 21st, though.”

  “I’m going after him,” Rylee said.

  Convinced the other Elect had run away on foot, Rylee went straight for one of the two abandoned cycles.

  “Rylee, no. It’s too dangerous,” Preston said, voice urgent.

  “Sorry, Preston. I’m not going to let them take that girl."

  Rylee straddled the cycle and turned it on.

  “Rylee!” Preston's voice was a near growl.

  “There’s another cycle here. The third Elect ran off on foot heading north.” With that, she gunned the cycle’s throttle and rocketed down the street.

  For a few seconds, she fumbled with the controls before she got the headlights turned on. It was too late to worry about who might see her. Already she saw windows faintly illuminated with a sallow glow. Hand-cranked lanterns. Just like the ones she and her grandfather used at night when their power was shut off. The windows flew by in a blur.

  She smiled. The cycle was fast. It was different than riding her Harley, but fast.

  On her left, she passed Feng trying to wave her down. She didn’t stop. There wasn’t time. Having Feng along might help, but she likely couldn’t afford the added weight. If she detected correctly, these cycles lacked the torque to carry heavy loads. She hoped that would slow down her prey enough to give her an edge.

  “Sorry, Feng,” she said over her radio. “No time to stop.”

  “That’s right,” he said over the line. “Go have all the fun without me. Make me run all over the blasted slums.”

  An intersection approached. Rylee cut the throttle, leaned so her left knee almost skidded on the asphalt, then accelerated out of the turn.

  “Serg?” she said into her earpiece.

  “Right here,” he replied.

  “I need a route.”

  “What’s the magic
word?”

  “Or I’ll shoot you in the crotch when I get back to the hideout.”

  “That’s more of a phrase, but it will work. One second. Let me see…no…not there...Ah! Your best bet is to cut him off at Holgate or Plum street.”

  “Got it.”

  Rylee gunned the throttle.

  “I’m on the other cycle,” came Preston’s voice suddenly. “I’m coming to help.”

  Good. Because she had no plan for what to do once she caught up to the Elect. All she knew was that she couldn’t let him take that girl. Whoever she was, she didn’t deserve the fate that undoubtedly awaited her if the Elect got away. No one did.

  Rylee’s jaw muscles tensed as she leaned deeper into the cycle and torqued the throttle even more.

  Cold, moist air tore at her hair and the back of her jacket. But she scarcely noticed either the wind or the chill.

  She reached Holgate and turned onto it, barely letting off the throttle.

  “I’m on Holgate,” she reported. “Now what?”

  “He should be—”

  “There!” she shouted as the Elect, girl, and cycle raced across one street over. “Never mind, I found them. Heading north on…er…something. Heading north.”

  Too addled to think about street names, she leaned her cycle into another turn, following the wake of the Elect. Her headlights shown on him as she pulled up from the turn. He was already a few hundred yards away. The girl was clinging to the back of the Elect, her thin white shirt and pants flapping madly in the wind.

  Rylee gunned the engine. As she had hoped, she made steady gains on them. Not quick enough to evade notice. Evading an Elect’s notice in a high-stress situation was harder than trying to dupe her grandfather. Within a few moments, she was trailing them closely.

  “Okay Serg, any ideas what to do now? I’m right behind them.”

  She couldn’t shoot him from the back. The girl was still in the way. Almost anything else she could think to do would likely make the pair crash. A crash that would surely kill the girl. The Elect might walk away from it.

  “You could try flashing him,” Serghei said. “That might make him slow down.”