Rachael heard the chop of helicopter blades overhead, and ducked behind a bush. She glared up at it nervously, but the search copter flew past without slowing or circling back. She was grateful the bushes on this island grew so large. It would've been impossible to hide her eight-foot-ten bulk behind one of those tiny shrubs that grew in the American deserts. She waited for the sound to die away in the distance, then started running again.
That's when she heard the footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder; five soldiers in full gear — probably from the same Company she'd fought alongside just a few days ago — were closing in, blaster carbines in the underarm assault position. She upped her running pace. A blue-white bolt hissed past her on the left. Yikes! They were opening fire. She started jinking from side-to-side as she ran. Hopefully it'd make it harder for them to draw a bead on her. More blaster bolts zinged past, none of them hitting her. For a wooden monster, she was surprisingly agile.
She ran, and she ran, hoping to open up some distance . . . then ran right into a natural funnel between two ridges. There was only one direction she could go, into the gap where the two ridges met — and a boulder nearly four meters wide lay blocking her only exit. Damn. Nowhere to run. So, only one thing to do. She whirled on her assailants, and charged toward them.
She managed to dodge the first blaster shot, and the second — but not the third. It hit her squarely in the chest. It stung like mad . . . but . . . she wasn't injured. It hadn't even knocked the wind out of her. It didn't even knock her down. She kept on charging and managed to close the distance without getting hit again, then balled her hand into a massive fist and punched. The soldier's body armor cracked, and the poor fellow flew back and skidded across the dirt. She hadn't even hit him full force.
Now tangled together too closely to risk shooting each other, the four remaining soldiers swung at her with the butts of their blasters. These clacked ineffectually off her wooden torso and legs. She grabbed the soldier nearest her right hand and tossed him to one side. He flew into the ridge line; his armor and helmet hit with a sharp thud and he slumped to the ground unconscious. Damn, she'd thrown him way too hard. She'd better hold way back if she didn't want to accidentally kill one of her comrades. (Her former comrades now? The thought would've sent a chill down her spine if she'd still had one.) She shoved the two to her left and right, this time gently enough that they merely fell down and slid back a couple of meters. The one remaining trooper looked up into her face with horror, and cowered behind his blaster.
Rachael glared down at him and, in the most intimidating voice she could muster, said "Boo!".
The trooper let out an "eek!" and stumbled backward, then turned tail and ran. The two others who were still conscious scrambled to their feet; one called out "fall back!" and soon all three of them were running for the closest cover.
Rachael breathed with relief, then turned her attention back to the boulder blocking the pass. It was nearly as tall as it was wide. It had to weigh at least sixty or seventy tons. Just . . . just how strong was she in this new wooden body, anyway? Only one way to find out. She bent down, scooped her oversized hands underneath the boulder, braced herself, and lifted. The entire gigantic rock lofted upward until she was holding it over her head. It wasn't hollow or anything; it was real, solid granite, and she could tell it was as heavy as she'd guessed. But it sure didn't feel heavy in her hands. She stood — with surprising ease — then turned around and heaved the boulder away, aiming for a point near (but not directly at) the spot where the three soldiers had retreated.
It actually overshot their position, landing nearly twenty meters away from her.
Holy cats. She knew she was strong, but this was unbelievably, ridiculously strong. She'd just tossed a seventy-ton boulder like it was a shotput. Not even Brick One on Hay Man could do that. The only person on Earth she knew of who was stronger was Infra Man — and he wasn't even from Earth!
She took one last look at her would-be assailants — all either unconscious or cowering — then turned and dashed through the opening where the boulder had just been.
The island coast was in view now. She might actually make it to the shoreline. She was getting used to running on these long legs, but now she wondered if her prodigious strength might not give her a way to cover the distance even faster. She took three long strides forward, then crouched and sprang into the air. Her wooden body was substantially heavier than her old flesh-and-blood body had been, but her leg strength more than compensated. She arced through the sunny sky, and crashed back down on her sturdy legs a full 28 meters away. Nice, she thought. She took another running broad-jump, and landed another 28 meters farther ahead still.
Then she cursed herself. Leaping through the air like that was a hell of a good way to give away her position. The whole island probably knew where she was now. She turned sharply to her right and ran along the ground, hoping to lose her trail in the underbrush — and ran right in to another solider.
This one was by himself, though, and though his blaster carbine was strapped to his back he wasn't in body armor. He yelped, unstrapped his blaster, aimed it at her with nervous, shaking hands, and yelled "Freeze!"
That was when she noticed his artificial right arm. Now it was her turn to gasp. "Hans?!"
He tightened his grip on his blaster, and yelled "How the hell do you know my name?!"
Rachael held up her two huge wooden hands, trying to calm him down. "Hans, it's me." She instantly realized how stupid a statement that was, then said, "I'm Rachael. Rachael Stowe. They took my brain and put it in this cybernetic body. You've gotta — we graduated together! We're both in Third Platoon!"
Hans glared with a mix of disgust and horror. "If you're really Rachael, then —"
"You have a cute little mole on your left butt cheek," Rachael said, "And you drool when you sleep on your right side."
His eyes bulged wide and he lowered his blaster. "Oh my God, it is you! But . . . but you look . . . you're the intruder they're after! What happened?!"
"I don't know. I went to bed in my bunk, and then the next thing I knew, I woke up strapped to an operating table, and I was like this." She gestured disdainfully at her wooden body. "Then Mr. Eternal and some flunky of his told me the procedure was irreversible."
"Mr. Eternal?" Hans said. "Norman Dockran was right there, talking to you?"
"I didn't actually see him," Rachael explained. "He was in some observation room behind one-way glass. But I'd know his voice anywhere."
"So . . . so the big man himself did this to you? Without your permission?"
Rachael's expression seemed to harden, even though her face was already made of wood. "There's no way I'd have let him do this to me. He also talked about brainwashing me. That's when I broke free. And now, instead of coming clean, he's claiming I'm some kind of 'intruder' that needs to be captured."
Hans looked away in disbelief. "Jesus! How the hell could — that goes against everything Eternal Mankind is supposed to stand for!"
She held her hands out in front of herself, pleading. "I've got to get off the island."
"Uh . . ." Hans hesitated. This was all happening so quickly for him. "You . . . you could swim due west. It'd take a long time to reach North America, but —"
"No good," Rachael said. "I may be made of wood, but I'm still too heavy to float."
"Could you walk along the ocean floor?" Hans asked.
Rachael shook her head. "Not anymore. No energy receiver hardware. This body actually needs to breathe oxygen."
Hans seemed truly alarmed. "That's awful!"
Rachael said, "I need to find a boat somewhere."
Hans perked up. "Sandra's motorboat!" He pointed toward the coastline, off at an angle. "She keeps it moored near the south end of the old logging strip. She took a couple of us fishing in the boat with her last month. It's got a huge gas tank."
"That might just work," Rachael said. "Can you take me there?"
"You're basically a fugitive right now," Hans said. "But you know what? Screw it. Let's go!"
"Jake," Norman Dockran sighed, "It's not working. Our troops haven't been able to capture your escaped subject."
Dr. Jake Rasmussen frowned nervously. "But," he implored Norman, "But surely among all your high-tech hardware, you must have some machine, some weapon, that could incapacitate —"
"We don't," Glenda said. "We don't have any magical net projectors, or time-freezing rays, or phasers you can set on stun. No taser or blaster carbine is going to be strong enough to get through her tough wooden exterior. Real world technology just isn't very accomodating when it comes to nonlethal force."
"She can't get out," Norman Dockran said firmly. "I'm escalating to the next level."
"Attention," the island loudspeakers boomed. Rachael and Hans froze. "This is Mister Eternal. The intruder has thwarted attempts to capture it. It must be neutralized by any means necessary. The use of lethal force is now authorized. Capture if possible, but do not let it escape."
"Oh, crud," Rachael said. "They'll be rolling after me with tanks."
Hans snorted. "I don't think there's a single tank on this island." His head jerked skyward, and he strained to listen. A faint, distant chop-chop-chop sound was coming from inland. "But attack helicopters are another matter. Let's hide!"
They both crouched beneath the underbrush and peered outward through the leaves and branches, hoping the chopper was too far away to have seen them.
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