Choices
Chapter 3: Attempt
By Gumnut
3 Jul 2004/27 Nov 2005
It was born of the Pacific, and, as with all weather systems generated by the great ocean, it was tenacious. It was only small for its species, but the storm hit the coast of California like a sledgehammer.
Los Angeles bore the brunt of it, its people hurrying for cover as the warm evening turned to torrential rain. Vague flickers of lightning bathed the city, competing with the city lights for dominance.
It was quick, ten minutes of gale forced fury that blew the roofs off several houses, drenched unprepared pedestrians, and stranded Mrs O'Neill's dog in the middle of a flooding stream. By then the angry clouds had encountered the hills above Hollywood and were pushed higher, rain freezing in the upper atmosphere, a recalcitrant drizzle the only remaining precipitation, as the winds forced it over the higher altitude geography.
Determined to push further inland, the squall was caught by the dissipating heat of the Mojave Desert, its warmth adding energy and pushing the clouds even higher, lightning arcing in an angry display that dominated the sky. Clouds piled on clouds, pushing ever higher, until near the Nevada border, the fragile balance that kept the water in the air broke.
And the sky fell.
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Kitt saw the weather coming and compensated. The high beam of his headlights suddenly refracted by the falling water, his tyres losing twenty-three percent of their grip on the road.
An outside observer might have found it odd that the Trans Am seemed to be making excellent progress through the downpour without the use of windshield wipers, but Kitt didn't even spare a thought for the unnecessary equipment. His sight was unimpaired, the night as clear as day as his scanners swept the road.
It had taken him too long. The digits on his internal clock glared at him accusingly. Michael was alone in the desert dying.
He tracked the prevailing direction of the storm that periodically lit up the road.
The data danced across his circuit boards.
The denial that followed it, translated directly into yet another attempt at increasing speed, one that failed as miserably as the previous dozen or so times.
The semi's beacon was close.
And all his hope with it.
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Devon Miles was pacing. It was an activity he had become far too familiar with over the last few years, the source of his anxiety the same as always.
Michael Knight and his accomplice in anarchy, the Knight Two Thousand.
The drum of the rain on the metal skin of the semi attempted to thwart thought despite the soundproofing, and the thrum of the speeding engine only added to the clamour, a counterpoint to his aggravated pulse.
"Here they come."
Bonnie's voice shook him from his reverie, and he joined her at the computer console as she flicked to the view from the exterior cameras. The sound of the rain suddenly quadrupled as she activated the ramp at the rear of the trailer. The heavy tracks lowering down to the wet asphalt as the highway sped past beneath them.
The open door let the violent weather in, gusts of cold wind playing with his hair, but the video monitor captured his sole attention.
Twin beams of light tore down the other side of the divided highway, and as Bonnie switched to infrared, the familiar outline of the Trans Am came into focus. Kitt was still pushing his limits, and before Devon could blink, the car had breached the wide median strip, tyres spinning up rain soaked dust into a spray of mud.
"They are definitely in a hurry."
Bonnie's statement of the obvious didn't require an answer.
The Trans Am leapt onto the semi's side of the road and with a screech of wet rubber shot into the safety of the trailer.
For a split second, Devon's heart jumped, the image of himself and Bonnie crushed up against the rear wall, flashing across his mind, but the car thudded to a halt in its usual position.
"Bonnie!" Kitt shouted the name.
Devon stared at the Trans Am as its windows faded from black to clear to reveal an absence.
"Kitt, where is Michael?" His heartbeat increased as scenarios started dancing around in his head.
The AI's voice was strained almost beyond capacity. "Michael has been injured." And then it all tumbled out.
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Bonnie fingered the broken circuits as Devon's voice became strident. She pitied the person on the other end of the phone.
"What do you mean there are none available? This is a life and death emergency!" She could hear the voice on the other end as equally determined as Devon's. "When will one become available?" Bonnie reached for the replacement circuit, flipping it into place neatly. "He could be dead by then!"
A pain-filled sound emitted from Kitt's voice box, and she flinched. "Kitt, did that hurt? I'm sorry." She fiddled with the soldering iron, fumbling in her haste.
"No." The syllable was simple, but it told her much.
"Michael is strong, and he's a fighter, Kitt." She knew she was attempting to convince herself as well as the distressed AI. "He is too stubborn to die on us."
Kitt didn't answer.
Devon slammed the phone down. "For the love of god!"
Bonnie flinched. Devon's distress was a palpable as Kitt's, though he expressed it differently. The sound of fingers punching the phone digits for the seventh time came as no surprise.
She soldered the last connection on Kitt's transmitter circuit and tested the line. The gauge came up green.
"Okay, Kitt, test it for me."
There were no visible signs of activity but she knew what he was doing. It was the same thing she would have done in his place.
His electronic voice wavered as he reported. "I am receiving a confirmation signal from Michael's comlink, but he does not respond."
She dared to ask. "How is he?"
Again Kitt didn't answer, but his display lit up with Michael's vital signs. She swallowed. "He is strong, Kitt. He's fighting."
The silence from the AI was unbroken.
"It is not your fault."
Still no answer.
"Kitt-"
She was interrupted by an explosive outburst.
"Damnit!" The receiver hit the cradle violently again. Devon rarely swore, actually come to think of it, she couldn't recall him ever swearing. She watched through Kitt's windshield as the frustrated man ran a hand through his hair. Then his eyes caught hers.
"The City of Las Vegas is unable to provide us with air support. The entire city is on emergency standing. This… " He waved a hand heavenward. "This storm has caused flash flooding across the entire north west quadrant of the city. Michael has been placed in a queue!"
The Trans Am's engine suddenly roared into life. She jumped. "Kitt?"
"I can't leave him out there." The AI's tone was firm.
Neither Bonnie nor Devon refuted the statement. There was silence with the exception of Kitt's rumbling engine for a moment before Devon answered him. "Kitt, let me call the nearest hospital to Michael's position. You can meet the ambulance en route."
"They will not be fast enough." The tone was matter of fact.
"I know." Devon held up a hand. "Meet the ambulance and take on the doctor and his equipment. The ambulance can trail behind you. The doctor can assist Michael when you reach him until the ambulance arrives on the scene." He reached for the phone again.
There was a pause. "Very well." Kitt activated the remote for the ramp and the weather once again entered the trailer.
"I'm going with you!" Bonnie shoved her repair equipment to the side, and pulled the car door shut before Devon could protest. A little surprisingly, the man didn't even lift an eyebrow, and she was grateful.
Kitt didn't even acknowledge her presence.
But suddenly the time for thought was over as the AI slammed the car into reverse and they shot out into the dark of the wet night.
Her last sight of Devon was one of a terribly worried old man, bent over the ever-present phone.
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A single drop of water woke him this time.
It landed on his cheek and ran down the curve of his face, tracking along his upper lip before dripping quietly to the sand beneath him.
He blinked, tried to move his head, and regretted it immediately. Bright lights danced across his line of sight. He squeezed his eyes shut willing the lights away. God.
Another drop of water landed on his face. What?
He slowly opened his eyes again. Dark. It was still night, though no stars shone now. He blinked again attempting to focus. Still? Where was he?
Kitt?
The world suddenly lit up in a flash of vibrant light, scorching his retinas. He flinched.
A moment later the world rumbled, the ground beneath him trembling to the low frequency vibrations of thunder. His body trembled with it.
Shit.
Kitt, where are you?
Rain began to hit his face, picking up in pace.
"Kitt?"
He barely heard his own voice as the falling water kicked up dust. He coughed as it caught in his throat.
Oh, god!
His entire body lit up with fiery pain, quickly echoed by another brilliant flash of lightning. As the thunder shook him, he cried into the night with what little strength of voice he had. Warm liquid mixed with the falling rain.
Kitt?
Almost afraid to move any part of himself, he forced his left arm to bend, bringing his comlink within voice activation range. He trembled with the effort, sharp sparks of pain dancing up and down his entire left side, but he managed to speak the word again. "Kitt?"
The response was immediate.
"Michael!"
The comlink crackled as another flash lit up the landscape.
"Kitt?"
"Michael, we are on our way."
Michael's eyelids suddenly interrupted his sight, only the rumble of the next peal of thunder shaking him awake.
"Michael!"
"Kitt?"
It seemed to be the only word on his lips.
"We're coming, Michael. I promise."
"Kitt, I need you." The words were whispered and instinctual. Kitt always came when he called for help.
The rain was soaking his clothes, and the wind was picking up, chilling him. He shivered.
"Cold."
"Michael, you have to stay awake." Bonnie's voice.
"Bon…nie?" His throat caught again, forcing another cough. He shuddered, grimacing at the resultant response from his body.
"Bonnie is with me, Michael. We are trying to reach you as fast as we can."
The rain came down harder and he began to shiver continually as his body fought to maintain temperature.
With the shivering came pain.
"Agh." His breath was taken away with his voice.
"Michael!"
"K…itt."
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This time the police knew to stay away and it made Kitt's job all that little bit easier. Most of the traffic had disappeared, everyone hiding from the rain, and as he skirted Las Vegas, the roads were almost deserted.
Except for the water.
In places, streams had become rivers, flash flood breaking banks, and more than once Kitt found himself taking to the air to avoid swimming.
There was silence in the cabin. Neither Bonnie nor the AI really wanted to say anything, both lost in their thoughts. After that one contact with Michael they had been unable to reach him again. His vitals were still dropping and Kitt was terrified that despite every effort they would be too late.
They made it through the heart of Las Vegas in record time, tearing up freeway until they had to leave it to pick up their passenger at North Vista Hospital.
With co-ordination from Devon, they located the waiting physician as he dashed out of the Emergency Department; the accompanying ambulance having already left and gaining ground from the moment Devon called.
Doctor Palmer was a short dumpy man with a pair of quick eyes that darted over the extravagant dash of the Trans Am. He didn't comment, his questions immediately about the condition of his patient. But he did raise an eyebrow when Kitt replied verbally, Michael's vital signs flashing up on his monitor as the car spun its wheels on the wet pavement and left the curb.
"Who's driving?" His eyes were wide. Bonnie hadn't lifted a finger despite the fact she was in the driver's seat.
"I am, Doctor. Please do not be concerned."
He eyed the dash with some amazement, and not a little suspicion. "It is the safest way in these conditions." Bonnie flicked a worried glance in the doctor's direction. "Kitt is fully capable of navigating the storm without difficulty." The AI barely noticed the praise, his mind elsewhere, but he did notice that Bonnie did not explain further and the doctor was left wondering exactly what type of vehicle he had stepped into.
After that the journey continued in silence.
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Officer Bangor never did get his break. First he lost the yahoo in the black Trans Am - he hadn't had a hope of catching him, he was simply too fast. And then the storm had marched in and forced him into overtime.
He was currently standing in the rain wearing his glow in the dark traffic gear and redirecting the few travellers on the road away from a flood damaged bridge. He was wet. He was cold. He was grumpy. And God pity the poor souls who encountered him.
"I'm afraid, ma'am, that you will have to find an alternate route. This bridge is unstable and impassable."
"But I have to get home within the hour. My husband will worry."
"There is no choice, ma'am." The woman seemed to think the situation was negotiable. Why, he had no idea. It wasn't as if it wasn't half obvious. The raging torrent in the usually calm riverbed was splashing over the bridge roadway.
She glared at him. "Unacceptable."
"And what do you expect me to do about it?" This was ridiculous.
"I pay my taxes. I expect to be able to use the roads I pay for."
Stupid. Stupid. "Unavoidable, ma'am. Please move along." Another set of headlights appeared in the distance.
She continued to glare at him and her car didn't move. He sighed, and then frowned. Those lights were approaching awfully fast.
"Ma'am?" Move you stupid woman.
She didn't answer, distracted, as her car was flooded with the glare of the oncoming vehicle.
"What the-?" The car wasn't slowing down. He stepped away from the woman's Camaro and began waving his arms. The bright array of headlights bore down on him and a voice spoke clearly from the dark beyond. "Officer, please make way."
"Stop! The bridge is damaged!" He waved his spotlight urgently. "Stop!"
The car wasn't going to stop. Bangor's brain advised him of this just in time to back out of the way. As the speeding vehicle flew past him his flashlight caught the black skin of the Trans Am he had encountered earlier in the day. "Hey!"
"Thank you, Officer."
There was the sound of firing jets and the black ghost leapt into the air and easily sailed across the small flooded gorge. A brief flicker of red taillights and it was gone.
Bangor stared after it for a moment, his mouth open.
Damn yahoo.
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Kitt missed a beat the first time Michael's heart did.
His scanners combed the road, but his processor clung to that heartbeat.
And it stuttered.
No!
Wet rubber skidded in the dark as his tyres hit mud and brown muck sprayed up around them.
Please no!
The glare of his spots lit up a body lying in the rain.
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FIN.