The sound of welding torches was louder than the screams.
HISSS-CRACKLE.
Sparks showered through the ventilation slits of the Behemoth. The air inside the train grew hot and thick with ozone.
"They're welding the doors!" O'Malley shouted, kicking the steel hatch. It didn't budge. "We're sealed in! It's a coffin!"
Jason grabbed the periscope handle.
Outside, the Butchers swarmed like ants on a carcass. They were fusing the armor plates together, turning the train into a solid iron block.
"Status on the engine!" Jason barked.
"Red-lining!" Hughes yelled from the cockpit. "I'm pushing 100% torque! The wheels are stripping the rails, but we aren't moving! The magnets have us clamped with twenty tons of force!"
The train shuddered violently. The electric motors whined in protest, smelling of burning copper.
Jason looked up at the control tower balcony.
Adolf Hitler stood there, watching the work with calm satisfaction. He checked his watch.
"He's going to cook us," Sarah realized. She was slumped against the wall, clutching the crate with the centrifuge. "He doesn't need to break in. He just has to wait until the reactor overheats."
Jason looked at the factory office window.
Through the glass, he saw the silhouette of the iron giant. Gates was clamped into the interface rig, motionless.
"Come on," Jason whispered. "Wake up."
Inside the Control Office, a technician tapped a gauge.
"Sir," the tech called out. "Power fluctuation in Sector 7."
Hitler turned from the balcony. "Stabilize it."
"I can't," the tech said, his voice rising in panic. "The grid is... redirecting."
On the wall of servers, a green light flickered. Then another.
Then, they all turned red.
ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.
The text scrolled so fast it was a blur.
Then, a voice boomed over the factory PA system.
It wasn't Hitler's voice.
"OPTIMIZATION COMPLETE."
The synthesized growl shook the glass in the window frames.
"ERROR FOUND: ORGANIC MANAGEMENT."
Hitler's eyes widened. He spun toward the Gates-Machine.
The iron giant's head snapped up. The red eye burned bright.
"REMOVING ERROR," Gates said.
BOOM.
A pressure valve on the main boiler exploded.
Steam erupted onto the factory floor.
The conveyor belts reversed direction. The meat grinders sped up to lethal RPMs, shaking their mounts loose.
"It's the Logic Core!" the technician screamed. "He's rewritten the safety protocols! He's overloading the grid!"
Chaos erupted.
Lights strobed violently—on, off, on, off.
In the Behemoth, the magnetic clamps flickered.
The train jumped.
"The magnets are fluctuating!" Hughes yelled. "He's pulsing the power!"
"He can't cut it completely!" Tesla realized, staring at the voltage meter. "He is fighting the factory's hardline! We must help him break the lock!"
"How?" Jason shouted.
"Polarity!" Tesla's eyes were wild. "The track is magnetized Positive! If we make the train hull Positive, the laws of physics will repel us!"
"Repel us?" Einstein did the math in his head. "Nikola, that requires megawatts! We would need to dump the entire battery reserve into the chassis!"
"Do it!" Jason ordered.
"It will electrocute anyone touching the walls!" Einstein warned.
"Then don't touch the walls!" Jason screamed. "Everyone to the center of the car! Jump on the rubber mats!"
The crew scrambled. They huddled on the rubber insulation strips in the aisle.
"Hughes!" Jason yelled. "Dump the life support! Dump the lights! Channel everything into the hull plating!"
"Here goes nothing!" Hughes yanked the emergency breaker.
The lights inside the train died.
The air recyclers stopped humming.
For a second, there was total silence.
Then—
CRACK-BOOM.
Blue lightning exploded from the Behemoth.
The entire seventy-ton locomotive became a giant electrode.
The Butchers welding the doors screamed.
The electricity arched from the hull into their welding torches. It cooked them instantly. They were thrown backward, their rubber suits melting.
The magnetic repulsion kicked in.
The train didn't roll. It hopped.
Seventy tons of iron levitated six inches into the air as the magnetic fields clashed.
The clamps shattered.
"We're free!" Hughes slammed the throttle. "Engaging drive!"
The wheels hit the track with a screech.
The Behemoth shot forward like a bullet from a gun.
It smashed through the half-welded doors of the loading bay.
CRASH.
Iron plates ripped apart. The train tore free of the platform, accelerating down the tunnel.
Jason pulled himself up to the periscope.
"We're out!" O'Malley cheered.
"Not yet!" Jason watched the rear view.
A horn blasted behind them. Deep. Angry.
Through the smoke, lights appeared.
A train was chasing them.
But not just any train.
It was Hitler's personal locomotive. The Gold Locomotive. It was sleek, aerodynamic, and terrifyingly fast. It didn't have armor; it had speed.
And on the roof, a turret turned.
"Cannon!" Jason yelled. "Brace!"
BOOM.
A shell hit the rear armor of the Behemoth.
The explosion rocked the car. Shrapnel pinged off the hull.
"Armor breach in the caboose!" Hemingway's ghost seemed to whisper in the rattling metal. But Hemingway wasn't there.
"They're faster than us!" Hughes screamed. "They're closing the gap! I can't outrun them on the straightaway!"
Jason looked around the car. They had no ammo. No grenades.
"Oppenheimer!" Jason shouted. "The chemicals! Do we have anything left?"
"Just the bleach!" Oppenheimer yelled, clutching a crate. "And the ammonia residue in the reserve tank!"
"Mix them!" Jason ordered.
"What?"
"Dump them on the track!" Jason yelled. "Make a cloud!"
Oppenheimer's eyes went wide. "Chloramine gas! It's heavier than air! It will fill the tunnel!"
"Do it!"
Oppenheimer ran to the rear hatch. He kicked the release valve on the reserve tank. He smashed the crate of bleach bottles onto the track below.
The liquids mixed in the slipstream.
A massive, thick white cloud exploded behind the train.
It expanded instantly, filling the narrow tunnel with toxic fog.
The Gold Locomotive plowed into it.
Through the rear slit, Jason watched.
The gold train didn't stop, but it slowed. The gas was being sucked into its intakes.
He saw the turret gunner on the roof claw at his throat, then collapse.
The Gold Locomotive braked hard. Sparks showered the rails as it ground to a halt, disappearing into the white fog.
"They're stopping!" O'Malley yelled. "They're choking on it!"
"Keep going!" Jason ordered. "Don't stop until we see daylight!"
They burst out of the tunnel.
The gray sky of the Midwest greeted them. The smog of Chicago fell behind.
They rattled over the switch tracks, gaining speed, heading east.
Jason slumped against the wall. He slid down to the floor, exhausted.
The centrifuge crate sat in the middle of the car. Safe.
Sarah crawled over to it. She rested her forehead against the cold lead.
"We got it," she whispered. "We actually got it."
Jason looked around the car.
It felt empty.
He looked at the corner where the iron giant used to stand. The floor plates were dented from its weight.
Now, it was just empty space.
The radio on the wall crackled.
Static. Then a voice.
"JASON."
It wasn't the gravelly voice of the robot. It was smoother. Amplified.
"Gates?" Jason grabbed the mic. "Are you there?"
"I AM EVERYWHERE," Gates said. "I HAVE SEIZED THE CHICAGO GRID. THE FACTORY IS UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT."
"You stayed," Jason said.
"I CALCULATED THE PROBABILITY OF VICTORY," Gates said. "A SINGLE UNIT IS INEFFICIENT. A FACTORY IS OPTIMAL."
A pause.
"I AM NOW MANUFACTURING DRONES. THE SKY OVER ILLINOIS BELONGS TO ME."
Jason felt a chill.
He hadn't just escaped. He had left an omnipotent AI in charge of the biggest industrial complex in America. He had traded one warlord for another.
"What about Hitler?" Jason asked.
"HE HAS RETREATED TO THE BUNKER," Gates said. "WE ARE... NEGOTIATING THE TERMS OF HIS SURRENDER."
The line went dead.
Jason stared at the radio.
"We created a monster," Einstein murmured, cleaning his glasses. "A third faction. Man vs. Machine vs. Fascism."
"We created a distraction," Sarah said. She stood up, using the crate for support.
She looked at Jason. Her eyes were clear. Hard.
"He'll keep Pelley and Hitler busy," Sarah said. "While they fight the robot, we finish the mission."
She pointed out the front window.
"Drive, Jason," she said. "Detroit is waiting. And so is my mother."
Jason looked at the tracks ahead. They stretched into the gloom, leading back to where it all began.
Standard Oil.
"Full speed," Jason told Hughes. "Let's go end this."
The Behemoth roared into the twilight, carrying the cure, the crew, and the weight of a broken world.