Immunity Index, Sue Burke [accelerated reader books txt] 📗

“Nimkii, no!” How could she make him understand the idea? Noise might work.

“Return to the building,” the robot called. Nimkii continued walking toward it, unafraid. He didn’t know what a robot was, but he knew a humanlike voice. He might think it was a living being, someone who could help him.

The centaur emitted a blast of noise. Irene covered her ears and hunched down, eyes on Nimkii. For a moment, he froze. Then he lowered his head, curled his trunk, and spread out his ears in an attack pose. He roared and charged. The centaur didn’t seem to notice him. He butted the robot with enough strength to knock it over easily, a puny thing next to him, and reared up to land on it with both feet. The noise stopped. A robot leg had fallen off. He kicked it again, sending it a few feet across the gravel yard. Satisfied, he backed off.

The other centaur came running. It ignored Nimkii and aimed a gun at Irene. She dropped down and heard a crash, then another one. She raised her head slowly, covering it instinctively and uselessly with her hands. Nimkii picked up the robot with his trunk, obviously not for the first time, and dashed it against the barn. Pieces flew off of it. The robot collapsed, leaving a dent in the metal siding.

Nimkii trumpeted. He spotted a small car. He rushed at it and pushed it over, all the way upside down. Then he smashed a foot onto its undercarriage, and the roof crunched against the ground. He began kicking it.

“Nimkii! You’ll hurt yourself!” She had to calm him down. “Nimkii,” she crooned. “Nimkii, I’m up here. I’ll come down and get you.” She slid toward the edge of the roof.

Where were the guards? Ruby’s truck was gone. Had everyone left? Apparently. Gunfire and noise hadn’t brought anyone out. No one had shot Nimkii.

“All clear?” a woman’s voice asked. Irene turned. A woman had poked her head through the opening in the roof. She climbed out and looked down at the centaurs, then at Nimkii. “Wow.”

“I think it’s clear,” Irene said. Nimkii approached the building. She slid to dangle her legs off the edge. He offered his shoulders. She climbed on, and he backed away. She took a deep breath of air scented with his buttery perfume.

Banging started up from inside on the main door. People needed to break out, the faster the better. Maybe she could speed things up.

She rocked forward toward the sliding door. “Can you open that?” The idea seemed unlikely, but she was riding on a mammoth, she’d broken out of jail, she had lungs full of clean air, and anything was possible.

He hesitated. He probably didn’t understand the concept of a door. She rocked again, hoping the noise of the hammering might tell him that this was another evil thing that needed to be destroyed. He stepped forward. The door had bent open a crack from the pounding. He slipped in the tip of his trunk and pulled. The door bent wider. He took a step back and tore it from its track, then ripped it from its hinges. The door fell outward, and he pulled it away as if he meant to smash it.

Foul air flowed out. He growled at the scent, dropped the door, and stepped away. She rocked backward. “Let’s get away, let the people out.” They wouldn’t want to face a huge, angry animal. She rocked again, and he backed away some more, grumbling. When they’d gone far enough, she leaned forward to hug him as tight as she could.

Koobmeej stuck his head out of the barn, grinning.

Berenike looked at the red dot on Neal’s phone. “That’s the next drop-off, a pharmacy,” he said.

“Armed looters, an organized assault. We’ll have to skip it.”

“They won’t get what they’re looting for.” She fiddled with her own phone. “We can double up on another pharmacy later.”

“I’ll make sure it’s okay.”

“Up next is the valley homeless camp.”

“Could be tricky,” he said.

“Maybe not. I know this place. They had to get a special account with AutoKar, and they kept the agreement to the letter. It’s run as strict as a tight-assed condo association.” The camp had long ago moved from scattered tents to take over a big abandoned factory building, and their presence had sparked a dozen legal battles.

“So I’ve heard.” He didn’t sound convinced.

He might be proven right about the delivery being tricky. The council didn’t always act democratically, and a few people in the camp had objected in the past over decisions—she’d met some residents and followed the debate. She kept her hopes up as the truck turned in to the Menomonee River Valley toward the abandoned site. A block away a group of people alongside the street waved them down.

“I know her,” she said, “the one in the yellow vest. She’s the mayor of the camp.” Neal lowered the window.

“We’ll take it here,” the woman called. “The camp’s in lockdown. Safer for everyone that way.”

She and Neal got out, unloaded the shipment onto the pavement, and got back in the truck. The mayor and her crew picked up the boxes and marched off, a model of efficiency. Tight-assed for sure.

At the next site, the other pharmacy, a couple of police squads were waiting to usher them in. Nervous customers waited in their cars in the parking lot.

They finished the final loop by sunset and reported back to City Hall, its doors and windows propped wide open to let in clean air. By then, traffic had picked up some, but even fewer businesses were open, and it was still an apocalypse.

As they entered City Hall to report in, someone was being pushed out on a stretcher. Up in the Health Department offices, King told them that doctors were learning more, but given time and resources, the system was overwhelmed.

“If anyone asks you about garlic soup, by the way,” she said, “it’s no miracle cure, but it might alleviate a few symptoms,