Chapter 4
The contraband EMP switch felt like a lump of ice in Marcus’s palm. The cruiser’s pneumatic hiss subsided, replaced by a low-frequency hum that vibrated through the soles of Marcus’s boots and straight up into his spine. The green tracking reticle inside the empty holding bay shifted from a steady glow to a rapid, erratic pulse, signaling that the vehicle was preparing to initiate its automated suction-lock mechanism to pull Toby inside.
"Toby, hold onto my belt," Marcus commanded in a harsh, urgent whisper, dropping to both knees and wrapping his arms securely around the toddler’s chest.
"Owie, too tight," Toby protested softly, squirming against the heavy tactical vest, unaware that fractions of a second separated him from permanent neurological erasure.
Marcus ignored the protest. With a sharp, decisive motion of his thumb, he flipped the toggle on the EMP device and pressed the casing directly against the concrete sidewalk.
A silent wave of blue electromagnetic energy detonated outward in a perfect circle, invisible to the naked eye but devastating to digital circuitry. The effect was instantaneous. The three armored cruisers died mid-stride, their headlights instantly extinguishing, their engine hums cutting out with a pathetic metallic wheeze. The overhead surveillance drones flickered like dying fireflies before plunging from the sky, clattering uselessly onto the pavement thirty yards away.
Silence descended upon Oak Street, heavier and more absolute than before. The only sound was Toby’s steady breathing and the distant drip of a leaking gutter.
Marcus exhaled a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he holstered his service pistol. He looked at his Department-issued smartphone; the screen was completely black, fried by the localized pulse. He was officially cut off from the network—a ghost in the machine, an un-person by state definition.
"Officer... light broke," Toby observed, pointing a chubby finger at the dark, lifeless cruiser door.
"Yeah, buddy. The light is broken," Marcus muttered, carefully lifting the toddler into his arms. Toby felt impossibly light, yet carried the weight of a dying world.
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Marcus stood up, scanning the alleyway behind the abandoned bakery. They couldn't stay on the main street; backup units would be dispatched the moment the automated grid registered a total blackout in Sector Four.
He took three steps toward the shadows of the alley when a metallic click echoed from beneath the chassis of the disabled cruiser behind them. Marcus froze, turning his head slowly to see a secondary, independent red laser dot projecting directly onto the back of his tactical vest.
