Day Zero - C. Robert Cargill Page 0,49

front of his face poured off, the bullet hole in the back of his head signaling the shot had clearly done a number on the officer’s insides before it made its way out the front. His pouch contained a clip as well, leaving me with nearly two and a half. Suboptimal, but better than the alternative.

I took a different route back on the off chance anyone had noticed me—whether on the ground or in the skies. I couldn’t discount the fact that someone human or digital might be using drones or even satellites to track goings-on on the ground. When possible, I ran under the eaves of houses or beneath the canopies of trees to give myself as little exposure as possible.

I arrived back at the Styles house in six minutes and fifty-four seconds, six seconds shy of my target.

Now to prep the family and a vehicle and enlist a little extra help.

“Quentin,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“The surrounding neighborhood is clear. You and Fenton go out and collect all the weapons and ammo from the wrecks we left outside. Lizzy Beth, Eddie, Ezra, and Bernice, collect every sharp implement, tool, piece of scrap metal, metal plates from appliances, and such that you can. But do not go outside. This will be an indoor operation.”

The Styleses’ car was a lost cause. It was a smoldering wreck out in front of the house, a casualty of the firefight I’d stumbled upon. I’d be able to use parts of it, but on the whole, its electrical array was completely burned out and its components were shot. The only real option was the Reinharts’ car. It had already driven home by itself, but was only a short drive away and back in a matter of moments.

I had a whole series of specs for automobiles that allowed me to adjust for any number of situations. As most vehicles were self-driving, and some threats were best handled with me at the wheel—so to speak—there was a whole host of instructions for hacking them, stripping them down, and turning them into whatever I needed.

“How was filling my head with all of this information legal?” I asked Quentin while beginning my prep of the car in the garage.

Quentin smiled. “It kind of wasn’t. They violated a number of regulations for what kind of things AIs could do, but since it technically required human activation, and all of your software was linked to your RKS, using any of that knowledge to violate the Three Laws of Robotics in a manner that wasn’t to save the life of your child was supposed to be impossible. They argued that in court and demonstrated it with a model. So they got a fine and agreed to not make any more. But they didn’t have to recall or patch any of the bots they’d already made.”

“So I fell through a loophole.”

“Plummeted. But I’m glad you did. Because if there’s anything in the world that I think will get my family the hell out of here, it’s you.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I used to sell you. I know what you can do. And once you figure it out, you’ll have as little doubt as I do.”

First things first: the car. I took whatever metal the kids could find—the front of the washing machine, a metal art print that hung in the living room, the backs of tablets—as well as some scorched bits from the wrecked car out front, then layered that over the windows inside the car, reinforcing those parts with wood taken from breaking apart bed frames and desks.

I ripped out the autonav and Wi-Fi broadcaster, using a few paper clips conveniently shoved in the right ports to convince the car the parts were still there. The car would run, but it could only be controlled by Wi-Fi, could not be tracked, and had no access to navigation data. That was fine; that was information I already had in my files.

I crafted a crude welder with what Quentin had in his garage and began welding the sharp implements to the front of the car. When I hit something, I wanted to hit it hard and cut it to ribbons. I took the hood of the Styleses’ car and fastened it over the windshield. Then I took rods and welded them to the back of the car, creating a bucket strong enough to hold Maggie’s and my weight.

When I finished, I stood back and admired my monstrous creation. This was no longer a family sedan