The Immortality Game

A creaking sound to her left made Zoya turn, but the two remaining escalators were empty. Then she saw a slight movement and heard the creaking again. They’re trying to get around me!

“Here! You!” she cried to whomever was sneaking down the far escalator. “Take the package. Send my mother down to me.” She held out a hand holding the remaining card.

The short mobster in the black leather coat popped up from his hiding place and glared at her.

“It’s right here,” Zoya said, waving her fist. “Send me my mother and you can have it.”

Shorty smiled, showing gold-capped teeth, then turned and ran down the steps.

Zoya cried out and plunged downwards. The man had a head start and she despaired of overtaking him. As Zoya passed the old woman again, the man yelped as he missed a step and grabbed the rubber rail to avoid falling. Shouts came from above, but Zoya ignored them, instead focusing on the nearest lamp on the platform below. She had passed Shorty before he regained his footing, but the steps were treacherous in the dark and she dared not run too fast.

Her mother, would they kill her now? She pushed the thought away and concentrated on the lamplight. As she drew close to the bottom of the long escalator, she could see more details of the platform. Two rows of thin square columns ran off into the darkness, with a wide lane between them. It was hard to pick out details in the dark, but every meter of free space seemed to be occupied by bedding, belongings, and people.

“Help!” Zoya cried, as she slowed over the final few steps to avoid slamming into the huddle of figures at the bottom. “Help me, please!”

The figures leapt to their feet as Zoya slid to a stop and pointed toward the far escalator. “Over there! He’s chasing me!”

The people she could see were women, except for one ancient-looking man in a worn fur hat. The closest woman shoved Zoya’s shoulder and said, “You’re not one of us. Go away.”

Zoya looked back to see Shorty halted a few meters up on his escalator. Though she couldn’t see his face, she could sense his nervousness. Everyone knew the stories of what Trogs could do to outsiders who invaded their lairs.

“Send the girl up and we’ll leave,” Shorty said.

“You’ll be leaving now anyway,” said another of the women. “Go on now.”

Shorty reached into his coat, and Zoya cried, “He’s got a gun.”

The old man in the fur hat lifted an ancient shotgun and pointed it at Shorty. All about came clicking sounds as other Trogs cocked weapons. The woman who had shoved Zoya stepped forward and pointed at Shorty. “You’re not gonna want to draw that gun. You’re gonna want to turn around and leave now.”

Shorty hesitated before dropping his hand from his coat. He backed up a few steps before halting again. “Your mother’s already dead, girl. You don’t give over that package and we’re gonna hunt down everyone you know. You hear me?”

Zoya was too stunned to respond, and by the time she realized this might be the one time she could safely hand over the card, Shorty had run back up the escalator. She thought for a moment about calling after him, but memories of her mother began flooding into her mind. The throbbing in her elbow faded as the world appeared to spin around her. Her knees buckled, but bony arms caught her and eased her to the cold marble floor. A babble of voices enveloped her as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Moscow

Sunday, June 8, 2138

1:21 p.m. MSK

“Over here, Gosha. Come on!” Tyoma beckoned to the steel-plated chimp that hung by one hand from the jungle gym in the corner of the lounge. “Come meet the general.”

Gosha tilted his head to one side and stared back and forth between Tyoma and General Andreykin.

“He won’t come,” Tyoma said. “He only does for Volodya. Shows how bad his taste is.”

“Do you always criticize your colleagues behind their backs?” said the general, a tall man completely devoid of hair but for bushy gray eyebrows and long lashes.

“Only Volodya,” Tyoma said, “and I criticize him plenty to his face, I’ll have you know.”

The general didn’t look amused. “It’s no wonder this project never makes progress if your team can’t get along.”

Tyoma grinned. “We’ve made plenty of progress, General, even with Volodya in the group. I like to think it shows how—”

“I don’t like you, Dr. Grachev. This is a serious project, and you are never serious. Why did Dr. Aseev leave you here to meet me?”

Tyoma put an injured expression on his face. “Ah, but you are my very favorite general. I am distressed that you…” The stony look on Andreykin’s face told Tyoma he was pushing his luck. He waved his hand toward the chimp. “Look, General, one of our recent successes.”

“A monkey.”

“A chimpanzee.”

“We’re not spending billions of rubles to create toy robots, Doctor.”