Adam Christopher - The Age Atomic

“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.

After showing Rad into the workshop, the King had excused himself and, in his shock, Rad hadn’t stopped him. Instead, Rad sat next to Kane’s machine for a while, having dragged a tall stool out from one of the workbenches. But after their greeting, Kane had drifted into unconsciousness. Rad hadn’t wanted to disturb him — the machine looked too much like an iron lung for his liking — but his mind was made up, at least. Rad’s priority was now getting Kane out of the place and to the medical attention he clearly needed. But first he had to talk to the King, find out what the machine was actually for. He desperately hoped it wasn’t keeping Kane alive. He also wanted to see what Jennifer had found, if anything.

Rad stood, and quickly made his way back upstairs.

Rad found the Corsair first, standing stock still in the lobby of the former theater. Rad let the door close quietly behind him, unwilling to disturb the mausoleum-like silence.

He checked his watch. It was now four in the morning. Maybe the King had gone to bed.

Rad looked the Corsair up and down and then cleared his throat. “Ah, you know where the King is?”

The machine didn’t move.

“OK,” said Rad, regarding the twin doors on either side of the lobby that led into the theater itself. “Guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

He started to turn, but then jerked back in surprise. The robot had turned its head and seemed to be looking at Rad with its round glass eyes.

“Huh,” said the detective, looking over the faceplate of the robot. There was something about the shape of the eyes he thought he’d seen somewhere before. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

The robot said nothing.

“Oh, yeah, the strong silent type, I remember. Well, so long.” Rad waved over his shoulder as he left, but as he walked towards the doors he was suddenly afraid to turn around or even look behind him. One thing was for sure: the Corsair was as creepy as hell.

The King was busy on the stage-workshop, sitting on a stool so tall his feet didn’t touch the ground. There was a jeweler’s eyepiece lodged firmly between his cheekbone and eyebrow, and a thin trail of smoke drifted towards the branches of the magical tree above as he soldered something minuscule on the bench in front of him. Jazz, something soft and melodic, filled the room.

Rad paused, then strode down the center aisle between the stacks of parts, making his footfalls heavy enough that anyone should have been able to hear his approach over the music. He hated surprising people.

“Mr Bradley, welcome back.” The King didn’t look up; his mouth was a grimace of concentration. Rad took off his hat and waved it, then felt stupid and replaced it on his head. Apparently finished with his work, the King replaced the soldering iron in its cradle and looked up at the detective, jeweler’s eyepiece in situ.

“Ah, hi there,” said Rad. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and felt the hard shape of his gun. His fingers curled around it. “Where’s Agent Jones? I think we all have a little talking to do, don’t you?”

The King shuffled on his stool. “I’m sorry?”

“Talking,” said Rad. “You, me, Agent Jones, just a little pow-wow about what the hell is going on here. You’ve got a building full of weird and my old friend is lying in some kind of machine downstairs. I think we need to clear some stuff up.”

The King slid off the stool and walked to the edge of the stage. He looked down at Rad, his mouth still in the same expression of concentration as when he’d been soldering.

“Mr Bradley,” he said, “to whom are you referring?”

Rad paused. “What? Kane?”

The King shook his head. “No, the other… Jones, was it?”

Rad’s jaw went up and down, and then he let out a breath, slowly. “Where is Jennifer Jones, your majesty?” He pointed at the King with his hat.

The King shook his head and smiled. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr Bradley. I don’t know who this Jennifer Jones is.”

Rad blinked. He was feeling more ill at ease with every passing moment. He raised his hat again, stabbing it forward as he spoke.

“You tell me where Special Agent Jennifer Jones is right now, or I swear I’ll turn over every piece of junk in this place to find her.” He thought then that maybe he should have been pointing with the gun, and not his hat. The man in the blue suit in front of him seemed not even a little bit disturbed. He looked down at the detective with something like wry amusement.

Rad huffed and dropped his hand. He needed to get help, get the police up here. He still had some pull down at the Empire State Building, and once they’d discovered one of their own had vanished into the far north of the city, he’d be able to come back with a whole posse, more than enough to deal with the robots outside and the King and the Corsair, and they could get Kane out and search the whole building.