The Rendering by Joel Naftali Read Free Book Online Page B

cover. Just an ordinary student, blending into the crowd.
    So I’m sorry about the long silence on the blog. And yeah, I’m talking to you, MealyMouth13, the only guy who left a comment. I’ll overlook the fact that all you said was “ur r teh suxxor! more C’/BEr§kuNkz!!!”
    Anyway, for all you lurkers, don’t worry. Auntie M’s been monitoring the hits, making sure that Roach can’t trace them. Can’t trace
you
.
    But if things are so busy, why am I back?
    I mean, I’ve still got no proof that I didn’t kill my aunt. I’ve still got no proof of
any
of this—at least, none that I can safely share.
    I’m back because I can’t be the only one who knows what’s happening. They say the truth is out there. Well, it’s my job to make sure they’re right. This information is too important to lose.
    Also, I’m stuck on level twenty-nine of
Ambush Z
. Can someone throw me a bone?
YOU ARE HERE
    So my last post about the Center ended with me in processing lab three, my lifeless aunt on the floor and Commander Hund stalking forward with his blade drawn.
    “Take your finger off the cube, kid,” Hund said.
    I gaped at his knife. “If I do, you’ll k-kill me.”
    “Maybe I’ll let you go,” he said.
    “But you w-won’t.”
    His smile made me shiver. “Give me the cube, and you won’t feel a thing.”
    The sad truth is he scared me so much I almost did what he said. Then I remembered my aunt and shook my head. “I’ll erase it.”
    And into the silence, Roach’s voice came: “Commander Hund, I just finished checking, and there
is
no auto-erase on that cube.”
    Hund laughed horribly. “You’re bluffing me? Bad decision.”
    He spun the knife in his hand and stepped closer until he plucked the cube from my hand.

    Well, so much for that. So much for me. After everything that had happened, I’d lost the Protocol.
    I’d had only one job: to keep the Protocol safe. Now I’d failed. I’d lost my aunt and I’d failed.
    And my problems were just beginning.
    Hund slid the cube into his pocket and drew his arm back to slash me with the knife—and the lights went out.
    A voice yelled, “Hund!” from across the room, and he reacted, quick as thought. Guns suddenly in his hands, he pivoted, sidestepping into the darkness, completely silent. Stalking whatever had called his name.
    His implanted lens shimmered briefly, then turned black in the gloom.
    Night vision.
    A footstep sounded behind a huge electron microscope, and Hund murmured into his communicator. “Roach. There’s an intruder in processing lab three.”
    “Scanning,” Roach’s voice said. “One moment.”
    Hund slipped like a shadow around the scope and I heard my aunt whisper, “Doug, get out. Now.”
    I looked down. My aunt was on the floor. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were not moving; she wasn’t breathing. She sure wasn’t whispering. I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked back tears.
    “Now!”
her voice repeated. “Slow and steady, don’t attract his attention.…”
    I started backing toward the door, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand.
    When I got halfway to the corridor, I heard Roach’s voice: “Nothing there. Only audio inference. Get that cube.”
    “Already got it,” Hund grunted. “And now for the boy.”
    “The explosion will take care of him.”
    My breath caught.
Explosion? What explosion?
    “The little twerp tried to
bluff
me,” Hund growled. “This is personal.”
    That snapped me out of my fear and grief. I shot the rest of the way across the room and sprinted into the corridor.
FASTER, STRONGER, BIGGER
    I heard Hund behind me. He was a trained mercenary killer, and I was a kid. He was faster than me, stronger than me, bigger than me. There was no chance I was going to get away.
    Still, I ran as fast as I could. Out the door, down the hall. I scrambled around the wreckage, waiting for the gunshot.
    Then something tugged at my mind. What was it? He was
faster
. No. He was
stronger
. Obviously.