Ty, a shift manager with an alcoholic wife, creates a female replicant in a dystopia veering toward full mechanization. For Ty, the surreal drudgery of working in a retail environment is interrupted when robotic interfaces are installed at his job...
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Enough. Enough now.
The refrain compounded in Sam's head, and she couldn't sleep.
"Wake up."
She shook Amaretto, who had taken to curling up next to her since Greta had disappeared. They had rectangular bed pallets, no better than upgraded sleeping bags. All the guests slept in the same room on the second floor, about thirty in total. It was a bit like sleeping like rows of sardines ready for the tin, but Sam liked it a lot better than sleeping alone surrounded by cement walls, or alone on a sinking mattress in a room hotter than hell's asshole.
Amaretto cracked one eye open. "What?"
"We're leaving," Sam whispered, mouth on Amaretto's ear.
Apparently, those were the magic words, because Amaretto shed all signs of sleep and righted herself on the pallet.
"Let's take Tricia," Amaretto nodded at the sleeping new girl, and then at the sleeping new boy, "and Duke."
Sam's chest tightened at the increased risk. A dark instinct inside screamed at her, No!, but she relinquished the ugliness.
"Okay, but no one else," she whispered.
Amaretto nodded, mouth set in a grim line. Gently, she stepped over a row of bed pallets to wake the two teens. First, she placed a hand over their mouths, then whispered. Like Amaretto, their tired eyes were quickly traded with vigilance.
"Wait here," Sam mouthed at the three people she now half-regretted being responsible for.
In a tight triangle, they hugged one another at the edge of the room.
With a deep breath, Sam opened the door. Earlier, she had sprayed it with a special oil meant for the workshops, and the hinges payed it forward by not saying a peep. Before she ventured into the shadowed hallway, the caretaker's words gave her pause:
If you try to escape, Helia will be locked up here with you.
However, Sam didn't plan on being caught. And even if she was, she knew what had to be done to ensure Helia would never join her.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the screwdriver. One guard snored in a chair at the end of the hallway. With each silent step, Sam had to convince herself to do what was necessary, to kill someone, even as a wall inside threatened to stop her.
She stalked closer, and closer. The guard's face and beard came into view, and the wall inside of Sam collapsed. Decisively, she placed one hand over his half-open mouth, and with the other, drove the screwdriver through his ear canal. The body spasmed, seemed to deflate, then spasmed some more. There was an awful squishing feeling that she buried, because if she dwelled on it, she wouldn't be able to continue.
With great effort, Sam withdrew the screwdriver, and the spasms ceased. She flicked off the globs of stuff she couldn't dwell on. Before moving on, she grabbed the side arm from the rapist's holster. It had been years since she fired a gun (or, technically, never). She willed her trembling to stop, long enough to check the safety was still on. Good thing it's not a biometric model, she thought. Two hands wrapped around the weapon, screwdriver on the side, Sam checked the rest of the second floor. All the doors were closed, no moaning or odd cries like usual. Peeking her head into the main hallway, she saw one more guard posted by the front door. Unlike the other, he was alert, facing the hallway. Sam ducked back into the bedroom hallway, hoping like hell he hadn't seen her.
Controlling her ragged breathing with little success, she waited, back against the wall and gun at her chest. After a minute or two, he still hadn't reached around to grab her. Then the unmistakable groan of the front door reached her ears. She waited for the click, then looked again.
The front door was clear.
~*~
Sam returned to the room and motioned for the huddled trio to join her in the hallway. Hands joined, they followed her. To their credit, no one cried out over the bearded guard. Duke hovered over the bearded rapist, assessing. Unceremoniously, he released a glob of spit onto the unmoving face. Tricia led him away by the shoulders. Amaretto slipped her hand into one of Sam's, gently taking the screwdriver. Sam thought that was all she wanted, to arm herself, but then she held on, squeezing as if to say, I'm with you.
The added courage bolstered her. The ball of anxiety swinging in her gut slowed, not quite stopping.
I can do this.
In the main hall, the new girl and guy edged to the front door. Sam caught one of them by the sack cloth, pointing behind her. Nodding, they turned around and followed. Hand in hand, Sam and Amaretto swept through the kitchen to the back door. She marveled at what she found. No guard, and no heavy-duty lock.
Lucky.
Too lucky, she though, swinging the door open and coming face-to-face with the guard from the front door. She drew the gun, aimed and squeezed. A clicking noise surprised her and the guard. He responded by driving a fist into the side of her jaw. Sam's entire body swung against the side of the open door. She hung on the doorknob, an explosion of tie-dye colors blotting her vision.
Behind her, bodies jostled. She was shoved from side-to-side, finally falling to her knees to avoid the scuffle. Two strong hands scooped under her arms, helping her to stand.
"Let's go," Amaretto urged in her ear.
This time, Sam roused at the command. Or tried to. She leaned on Amaretto as they half-walked, half-jogged from the kitchen to the courtyard outside. Sam threw a glimpsed over her shoulder to see the two teens, a bit mussed but no worse for wear. Yards away and getting further with every step, a body lay at the back door, propping it open.
"Where's the screwdriver?" she asked Amaretto.
"Left it back there."
Through the pain of her bleeding mouth, Sam laughed.
Her friend took her hand once more, shushed her, and they hurried on around the back of compound.
"I can walk," she said, breaking from Amaretto's hold. "Just need a minute."
She slowed, clinging to the brick wall of the building.
"We need to keep going," Tricia said. "They're going to see us here."
Scores of lights illuminated the compound. Raised voices carried over the night air.
"I think they already know," Amaretto said.
Scattered pops and shouting echoed, sounding close and far away.
Sam stood straight. "No, something else is going on."
