The Rendering by Joel Naftali Read Free Book Online

second thought, I didn’t want to think about how many lives I had in this game. Still, I knew I could escape, except for one thing. My aunt was in there somewhere. Processing lab three.
    And I wasn’t gonna leave her behind.
INTO THE FIRE
    First step: get across the room and into the janitor’s closet.
    I crept and slithered and finally sprinted the last twenty feet into the closet and slammed the door behind me. I heard gunfire as I locked the heavy metal door.
    It would take them at least three minutes to batter through that. The Center was built like a battleship.
    I found the grate behind the shelves and wriggled inside—and into the next room. A bathroom. At least I emerged under the sinks, not the toilets.
    Then I dashed across the hall and into processing lab one, which shared an emergency ventilation shaft with processing lab two. I dragged myself through the shaft, into PL2.
    Closer and closer. One last step.
    I opened the door, looked both ways down the corridor, and dashed into the open. Nobody shouted; nobody fired. I just slipped quietly into processing lab three.
    Only one tiny problem: I wasn’t alone.
TOO YOUNG TO DIE
    I crossed into the center of the lab, surrounded by a zillion dollars in hardware. Huge brushed-aluminum sheds hummed softly on the static-resistant rubberized floor, and triple-wrapped cables wove through glowing boxes.
    I found my aunt in a heap. I took five steps toward her and heard something behind me.
    Commander Hund. All seven feet of muscle, weapons, and gunmetal eyes. Standing twenty feet away, staring at me.
    “Figured you’d come here,” he growled.
    I didn’t answer, didn’t move. The whole “frozen in terror” thing again.
    “Give me that Memory Cube, kid,” Hund said. “Unless you want to join her.”
    He pointed at my aunt, sprawled limply on the floor, like a doll tossed to the ground.
    I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I tightened my grip on the cube and focused on not fainting. And on not looking at my aunt, because I didn’t want to start crying.
    “Is she—” I swallowed. “Is she …”
    “As a doornail,” Hund said.
    A numbness crept over me. “You killed her.”
    “Right now, kid,” Hund said, sneering, “you oughtta worry more about who I’m gonna kill next.”
    I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
    “So give.”
    “No.”
    He lifted his gun and I felt my knees weaken. I couldn’t handle this. I couldn’t stand up to Hund. He was too big, too scary.
    And my aunt was in a heap on the ground. My aunt, who’d always been there for me—not just when my parents died, but every day, in all the little ways. She’d nagged me about chores and not about video games. She’d taught me to ride a bike,and expected me to keep trying after I’d shredded my knees. She’d driven me to the skate park and trusted that I wouldn’t break my neck.
    I thought about that, and I stood my ground. For her. Plus, once Hund got the cube, he’d shoot me. If I wanted to stay alive, I needed to keep that cube.
    “I’ve got my finger on the auto-erase,” I said, my voice wavering. “Anything happens to me, say good-bye to the Protocol.”
    “I want that data, Hund,” Roach’s scratchy voice said from Hund’s communicator. “Now!”
    I had to think. I had to clamp down on my fear, block out the sight of my aunt on the floor, and think. I replayed the
Arsenal Five
levels in my mind; if I could get out of sight for a minute, I might have a chance. Computer cables ran under the floor, in insulated ducts. Too small for Hund, but I might squeeze through the ducts from one room to the next.
    “You can have the cube,” I said. “Just give me a minute alone with my aunt.”
    Hund pulled a knife from a sheath on his leg. “You see this?”
    “It’s a—a knife.”
    “My favorite blade.” He bared his teeth. “You delete the cube and I’ll show you why.”
    Then he took a step toward me.
    And another.
    He was only four steps away, his knife glinting in the