The Age Atomic

FIFTEEN



Jennifer traced her fingers along the painted brickwork as she explored the corridors of the King’s bizarre theater complex. She’d retraced her steps back to the former lobby and had then taken one of several plain doors that clearly led into what would have been the hidden workings of the theater, the areas not meant for public view. Behind the tattered but still decorative facade of the theater, the corridors were plain and the rooms she had found so far functional and mostly empty.

She was surprised to find herself alone, left to her own devices, the King apparently confident that she would be a good little woman and sit in the main workshop like she’d been told. Like the fact that she was a Special Agent operating on behalf of the City Commissioners somehow didn’t matter.

Jennifer stopped in the corridor, and smiled to herself. Of course, that had been a little lie. But sometimes little lies got you places a lot quicker than otherwise. And besides, it wasn’t entirely incorrect; it was just… well, just a little out of date. But the King was a crook and a crazy person who was going to help her, had to help her, so what did it matter.

And Rad was right – with the King otherwise occupied, it was the perfect opportunity to search the place.

Rad Bradley, private detective extraordinaire. He was a nice guy. He was going to be disappointed when he found out who she really was, but that didn’t matter. Because when that time came, Jennifer hoped to have solved the little mystery at the heart of Harlem and to have found her brother, James, and that was all that mattered. And the answer lay somewhere inside the King’s theater, she was sure of it.

Jennifer took a breath and ventured onwards.

She’d been working on her own for a long time, too long. She still remembered the day of chaos, the day the Empire State Building had been torn apart from the inside-out. In the aftermath there had been no one to stop her borrowing one or two things, like the experimental silver gun that swung heavily from her right hand. That, and as much of the surveillance data on the robot gangs as she could stuff into an old briefcase without anyone noticing what was missing. And the logs from the naval robot yards, the ones indicating that James had gone in but that his section hadn’t begun processing before a halt was called to the operation.

The risk was worth it, as had been calling Rad. That had paid off in spades, because he had led her to the King, which would lead her to her brother, she was sure of it. And once she’d found him and got him to safety, she and the detective would be able to clear up the little problem of the robots and the wacko calling himself the King of 125th Street. And then she could go back to the Empire State Building and maybe take charge herself. After all, she would be the city’s savior, and she had a very big gun.

Jennifer rounded a corner. Ahead was a large, low space, with a set of wide sliding doors forming most of the far wall. In the center of the room was the car, vast and black and silent. She’d managed to get herself back to the garage. She’d lost track of time, and she was now far enough away from the main workshop that she wouldn’t be able to hear the others return. She also knew that she shouldn’t be here, not really, and it occurred to her that she’d entered the domain of the King’s robot driver.

Jennifer waited in the doorway a moment, but the garage was quiet except for the slow ticking of the car’s engine as it cooled.

“Hello?” She raised the gun and stepped forward, eyes wide, alert. There was no other exit aside from the big sliding doors, and no real place for the robot to hide. Jennifer jogged forward and ducked down to peer into the car’s interior, but it was empty. She tried the door, which opened with a click and swung backwards smoothly.

She leaned in to take a better look at the remarkable vehicle. She’d never seen anything like it, although the controls seemed just like any other car. The car was powerful, she knew that, and fast too. It would make the perfect getaway vehicle if she and Rad had to make a speedy escape. Even better, the car had a large button in the center of the dash that said START. Jennifer just hoped it was that easy.

She stood and moved to the garage doors. There were four windows set high; on tip-toes Jennifer could just make out an empty, narrow street, more like an alleyway. She tried to remember the route they’d taken to get to the theater just a short while before. She could remember the way, she was sure of it–

An arm enveloped her chest, a gloved hand pressed hard against her mouth. Jennifer cried out but she couldn’t breathe, and the sound died in her throat. She struggled, half-turned, and got a face full of thick black fur.

She pushed against the robot as it dragged her backwards towards the car. Jennifer’s arms were held against her body but she could bend the gun arm at the elbow. She raised the weapon, trying to angle it in her hand to point it at her attacker, but the gun was knocked away with a clack almost as soon as she moved. It flew through the open door of the car and was lost somewhere in the vehicle’s cavernous interior.

The robot stopped moving. Jennifer tried to pull away, and found some slack in the robot’s iron grip. She twisted, thinking this was it, she’d found her moment, only for the robot to yank her back hard against his body. Her mouth and nose had been released as the pair wrestled, but she drew breath for a scream before the robot’s leather-covered hand clamped over her face again.

Eyes wide, nostrils flaring in panic, Jennifer tried to pull back as the robot brought its black metal face close to hers. Jennifer could see her own terrified face looming large in the two black glass eyes.

“Jennifer Jones,” said the Corsair, and then it laughed. Jennifer’s heart hammered, fear and panic joined by shock and surprise. She felt ill, and behind the robot’s hand the taste of bile was hot and bitter in her mouth. She jerked again, trying to get free, but the robot’s grip only got stronger.

“Hey, don’t make this difficult, Jen. It’s for your own good.”

Jen. He called me Jen. My brother called me Jen and he called me Jen and I’ve found him I’ve found him I’ve found him oh god I’ve found him and it’s too late too late too late

Jennifer slumped a little, her eyes flickering, and the hands holding her relaxed their grip.

Her deception successful, Jennifer drew a deep breath and screamed Rad’s name.