Toys - James Patterson [35]
“No, they’re not. The Elites have been pushing them out into society because they want them to be like a drug—or a cult religion. The very best toys take you away from the real world so you don’t have to deal with it. Elites do have some human qualities, including a modicum of compassion. Most of them would be a lot more concerned about what happens to us if they didn’t spend so much time in toyland. But the leaders want it that way. It’s part of their plan to keep total control. Even over other Elites.”
He leaned over and kissed the top of my head, the way he’d done at bedtime when I was a little boy. It was very touching, and I fought with myself not to get sentimental and gooey.
“I love you, son,” he said simply.
I didn’t say anything back to him. I just couldn’t. I guess I was still too close to my Elite life.
I watched him trudge away, and it reminded me of what a heavy burden he and my mother had carried all these years—the endless, thankless work they’d done while living in secrecy and in fear of being caught, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the Elites moved to exterminate “the human menace.”
Which now included me.
At heart though, I couldn’t help believing that there was nothing I could do to make a difference—human resistance was futile. The Elite population might still be relatively small, but their military and weaponry were so sophisticated that they could eliminate most of the world’s humans in a succession of swift strikes. Then they’d swarm over the globe with their cruel efficiency, finishing off the survivors.
At least the quandary gave me something to think about—other than the ruin of the perfect life I’d taken for granted and never really understood worth a damn.
I was still sitting in the lab an hour later when my acute hearing picked up sounds outside that didn’t belong.
I held my breath, concentrating, trying to figure the noises out.
Someone was approaching—someones. I counted forty-seven of them—moving stealthily from the bay toward the house, and now fanning out to surround it.
I jumped out of my chair and sprinted for the stairs—just as an alarm siren started blaring throughout the house.
“It’s Elites—they’re attacking!” I shouted. “They’re everywhere!”
Chapter 48
I RUSHED UPSTAIRS and saw that my mother and father, still in their nightclothes, had already taken up defensive positions at the windows on the main floor. The clones were there too. They all had laser rifles, and Dad tossed me one as I ran into the living room.
“We’ll hold them off from here, Hays. You get outside. Try to get behind them,” he said. “No mercy. They won’t show any to us.”
“I know,” I said. “They hate us skunks.” I know exactly what they’re thinking. Because I used to think that way myself.
My father looked fierce, magnificent, like an old warrior who relished a battle against impossible odds. My mother, too, was calm and fearless; she’d never been more beautiful or impressive than she was right then.
“Where’s Lucy?” I asked them.
My mother just shook her head. “She’s probably escaped already, Hays. Lucy can’t be captured here. She’s too important.”
I hugged them both quickly, then raced out the back of the house and across the lawn. On the way, my enhanced night vision picked out a dozen of the approaching black-clad figures.
Killers—assassins! They mean to exterminate my family. And me.
These were highly trained Elite soldiers, and they spotted me too. Blasts of weapon fire lit my path as I ran for the cover of trees.
Weaving side to side, keeping low to the ground, I barely made it to the shelter of the woods. The terrain there was imprinted in my childhood memory. I knew every tree to hide behind as I prepared my ambush. But there were so many of them, against so few of us. Lucy would have helped—but she was too important to be captured.
Three commandos had spotted me and were now moving quickly in my direction. Their mistake—or arrogance. A single horizontal sweep with my rifle cut the trio into lumps of smoking flesh.
I sprinted