Kill Switch: Chapter 38

One Revenge = Two Graves

Rat tat tat.

The racket of a machine gun echoes over the hill, the bullets zooming over our heads.

Yide grabs my hand, and we roll out of the swath of grass and burrow behind a generator.

“Shit,” I say. “My blaster is in my robe.”

I double back, retrieve my robe, and slip it on with this really cool ninja move before tossing Yide her own robe and returning to the cover of the generator. Yide slips on her robe, removes her blaster from its holster, and pokes her head above the generator. Quickly, she falls back.

“Who is it?” I ask. “Bots?”

“No, worse than that.”

A tall, burly figure walks past us, the muscular calves flexing in the moonlight, the combat boots shining.

“Fuck,” I say. “It’s Mama Bear.”

“She’s here to avenge her son’s death.”

“Fuck,” I say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Mama Bear blasts the side of the cabin, shattering the windows, splintering the rocking chairs.

Through the shattered glass, I see Orson and Bunnfield crouched behind a couch.

“We should run,” Yide whispers.

“And leave Orson and Bunnfield to die? No way.” I stand, wielding my blaster.

Mama Bear turns, and I press down on the trigger. Pew, pew, pew. Red pulse beams rush past her. She returns fire. I duck. Bullets ricochet off the generator. Clang, clang, clang. Yide swings her blaster around the edge of the generator and lets loose. One of her laser beams makes contact, and Mama Bear, who is seriously really fucking ripped, stumbles backward, her long blonde hair flying every which way. She catches her fall on a generator and straightens her back before taking a step forward.

“Fuck,” Yide says. “She has laser proof armor.”

Mama Bear’s dirt smeared mouth curls into a malicious smile.

“You killed my son,” she croaks. “My beautiful, burly, gentle son.”

My head tilts because I wouldn’t describe a mass murderer as gentle, but then again, I have to remind myself that The Withouter Hunter was, like, her actual son, i.e., not a sponsored baby, and it’s my understanding, based on my studies at prep, that a mother’s feelings toward her children are very inefficient, which goes a long way in explaining the mischaracterization.

“You killed my son,” she croaks again, “so prepare to die!”

She empties another clip into the generator. Cling, clang, bang.

“She’s going to hit the fuel tank,” I whisper. “And then we’re toast. We need to get out from behind here.”

I look around. There’s really nowhere to run. If we return to the tall grass, the bullets will rip right into us. At least, behind the generator, we have a little protection.

Mama Bear reloads the clip, and I take the opportunity to shoot off a few more laser pulses, which just kind of ricochet off her armor and blast into the dark surround.

“You think you’re so clever,” she says. “All you piece of shit InBetweeners. But you can’t even cover your own tracks. I picked up your trail at the waterfall.” The new clip clicks into place. She cocks the bolt handle, raises the gun, and aims the barrel right at the fuel tank.

“Get down!” I yell, but the sound of my voice is immediately overtaken by the pew pew pew of a blaster. I glance at Yide, confused. We both whip our heads around the metal frame of the generator, and for a brief second, my eyes fall on Orson Mitchell, who is standing on the cabin porch, blaster blasting. A beam strikes against Mama Bear’s back. She swings around. Orson fires again, and then his gaze sweeps in our direction.

“Go!” He yells. “Run!”

He releases another spray of pulses, further distracting Mama Bear, who keeps reeling back with each hit.

Mama Bear ducks behind a generator, places her machine gun atop the metal frame, and starts emptying the clip.

Something tugs at my shoulder. “Come on, Vonn, let’s go.” I turn to find Bunnfield crouched down, eyes alight with red laser beams. Yide is behind him, on her feet, her hips turned sideways, ready to run.

“What about, Orson?” I ask. “We need to save him.”

“This is what Orson wants,” Bunnfield says. “Come on, let’s go.”

A huge rush of heat as a fuel tank explodes. Lasers dart through the smoke. Mama Bear is on the ground, the bottom half of her body engulfed in flames, the top half still clutching the machine gun, letting it fire indiscriminately into the cabin.

“Vonn!” Yide yells. “Let’s go! Now!”

I stand, stumble, and just as we’re about to dip down the hill, I look back and see Orson Mitchell’s arms flailing, his blaster falling to the ground, a look of grim satisfaction overtaking his eyes as they turn toward eternity, his body dissipating into the smoke of the burning cabin.

Yide grabs my hand and pulls me down the hill.