[Original Novel] Little Robot, Part 15

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I nervously scanned the highway ahead of and behind us. As yet no sign of other cars except those broken down at the side of the road, riddled with bullet holes. Wrong place at the wrong time. I shuddered to think that we may yet join them.

On approach to the hospital, Lars slowed the car and urged us to be as quiet as possible. Too late, a pair of humanoids identifiable by external LED lighting the virus apparently had no provisions for disabling began to jog towards us.

“Shit. Shit, shit!” He backed into the intersection just behind us, then peeled out heading East. I demanded to know why he didn’t just run them down. “Those two outside were just guarding the entry. I’ll bet you anything there’s plenty more on the inside.”

In fact, since the outbreak I had noticed a gradual increase in the sophistication of their tactics; From mindless shambling and clawing, to the recent seizure of gas stations in order to establish supply lines for energy. “They’re like roaches” he continued. “If you see one, there’s probably a hundred you don’t see.”

I reminded him of Madeline’s ankle. “Keep your pants on, we’ll get to it. Just need some firepower first.” The city streets before us, illuminated only by Lars’ headlights, were littered with both corpses and the remains of shot up robots. Mercifully, we appeared to have missed the worst of it.

Every few minutes a military humanoid dashed out of an alley and threw itself at us. Either bounced off the hood and got drawn under the wheels, or Lars would briefly speed up and we’d lose it after a couple blocks. Madeline was the first to recognize the pattern.

“It’s the heat from the engine” she whispered. “We’re riding a giant mobile beacon that will only continue attracting them.” Maybe so, but also something like a shark cage. Within the car we were reasonably safe...except from the ones with firearms.

As with the hospital, every drug store we passed was also being guarded by a pair of robots. Usually unarmed domestic humanoids, one standing to either side of the door. No matter, couldn’t get antibiotics there anyway. Then it dawned on me that they meant to deny survivors access to medicine, bandages and the like.

They might be able to cannibalize robots of the same make and model for parts, but there’s only so many to go around. Even under the best circumstances their capacity for repair is severely limited. A sound strategy, then, to limit ours in turn.

“There. The police station.” Lars pointed to the darkened, burnt out husk of what was presumably the local police headquarters until recently. “Wait” Madeline cautioned. “There’s no robots. Why are there no robots? I don’t like this.” I shared her anxiety but pointed out it had already been looted and set fire to. Nothing left to guard, most likely.

“Before we go in I want to try something.” I withdrew the little emergency kit from my bag, and from within it, the space blanket. A paper thin sheet of mylar film you wouldn’t expect to be any use for keeping warm to look at it, except that mylar is a highly efficient thermal reflector.

Lars caught on first, laughing and slapping my shoulder. When Madeline asked what the fuss was about, he explained the properties of mylar to her. “Do you have more than one?” I shook my head and offered it to her. She declined. “I’ve had military training and survived six weeks in a war zone. You’ll probably need that more than I will.”

I wrapped myself in it and followed the other two on their slow, cautious approach to the derelict building. Sand bags lay stacked in a semicircle around the entrance as a makeshift machinegun nest. When I climbed over, my foot came down on one of several dead bodies behind it.

Madeline was predictably less fazed by it. Only noticed them in passing, hiking up her skirt to swing her other leg over the barrier. Lars whistled, whereupon Madeline scowled and shushed him. I forged ahead, indifferent to their antics and eager to get my hands on some firepower.

The fire damage turned out to be confined to the front. Molotov cocktail maybe, or just a punctured battery. At any rate the fire suppression systems did their job, everything behind the front desk remained intact. That’s not to say it wasn’t torn up. Lingering evidence of a recent battle could be seen everywhere Lars swept his flashlight.

“God damnit. I was worried about this.” Lars stood in the open doorway to the armory. Totally cleaned out, probably within the first hour of the attack. Just down the hallway there was a modest row of jail cells in which to hold surly drunks overnight.

I spotted a uniformed body in the far corner and pointed it out to the others. “The armory’s picked clean, but we haven’t checked any of the bodies for handguns.” Lars nodded approvingly and sent me back to the front to check the bodies behind the sandbag barriers.

As I did so, suddenly I heard gunshots from the rear of the station. I jolted upright and dashed through the wrecked hallway, stopping short of the jail cells when I spotted an armed humanoid. To my surprise, from this angle I could see there were also quiet, frightened wretches still hiding in the cells.

I scanned their faces but couldn’t find Madeline or Lars. Then I saw them. Staring at me, terrified, from within the cell at the end of the row. Must’ve shut themselves inside when the robot showed up, hoping it wouldn’t be able to get past the bars.

That’s when the robot shot the person in the first cell. No fanfare, just raised its arm, took aim at the poor slob inside and fired a single round into his forehead. He slumped over, blood trickling from the wound and pooling beneath him.

The rest of the prisoners began to chatter nervously. The robot moved down the row to the next cell. The fellow inside, a hobo by the looks of it, started begging the robot to spare him. It took aim and fired, once again a perfect headshot. The withered, dirty old man collapsed and began to bleed out from the freshly inflicted head wound.

By now everybody trapped in those cells realized what was happening and set to wailing and thrashing against the bars, trying desperately to escape. The robot didn’t react to any of it, just moved to the next cell and shot its occupant neatly in the head.

Lars and Madeline frantically gestured for me to help. What could I do? I found no weapons up front, but neither could I stand there and watch them die. Madeline reached out of the cell, took something from the corpse of the police officer sprawled out next to it, then slid it down the smooth concrete floor of the corridor to me.

The robot moved down a cell, raised its arm once again and shot the occupant. The wailing grew quieter by the minute as the robot methodically extinguished the sources. One more cell left until it reached Lars and Madeline. Now or never.

I charged it. The robot turned towards me but hesitated as if confused. A military model, programmed to recognize targets primarily by their heat signature, it didn’t know what to make of me on account of the mylar.

I tackled the chunky angular figure, seizing the hand with the gun in it. To my dismay it turned out to be considerably stronger than the domestic robot I wrestled back in my apartment. It was everything I could do to pin that arm down with the full weight of my body as it repeatedly punched me in the ribs with its free hand.

Madeline and Lars burst forth from the cell and helped me subdue the powerful metal beast. I realized I could taste blood and fearfully wondered whether it managed to cause a fracture. Try as we might, even the three of us together couldn’t pry the gun from its hand.

“The taser!” Madeline cried. The what? I looked down at the black box she slid to me a moment ago. I used it as a club to smash open the robot’s faceplate until the metal framework and electronics beneath it were exposed. Then I positioned the taser against one of its eyes, and pulled the trigger.

A bright blue flash and loud crackling followed. It was like trying to stay seated on a mechanical bull as the damn thing quaked and spasmed under us. Our combined weight was just enough. I held the trigger down until it stopped moving entirely. At last, its fingers loosened and Madeline pulled the gun free.

To my surprise, Madeline began to cry. Lars just doubled over and dry heaved. I tenderly touched the spot struck by the robot, searching for broken bones. Just severely bruised so far as I could tell, but it still hurt just to move.

All this for a handgun...which would probably be of little to no use against the next military robot we encounter. It seemed to return some of the color to Madeline’s face though, she soon looked altogether more confident with a new gun in hand.

I tucked the taser into my bag as I’d seen electrocution work wonders twice now. Besides, even if we manage to collect a proper arsenal, it could still come in handy as a weapon of last resort. A series of loud bangs startled the three of us, still not fully collected after what just occurred.

Lars gave me a tense look, as did Madeline who clutched her new pistol with white knuckles as we waited out the silence. Another bang. Then three more, one after the next. Madeline looked at Lars. He nodded to her, and she took the lead.

Bit by bit we crept towards the front, over fallen rubble and bodies. The three of us took cover behind the front desk. The bangs were now painfully loud and only increasing in frequency. Low to the ground, I cautiously peered out from behind the edge of the desk to identify the source.

A figure in a hooded brown cloak blasted away at a crowd of approaching military robots with what looked to be a belt fed riot shotgun. Stolen from this very station no doubt, probably returning to see what he missed. Or because he saw us entering earlier.

The blasts continued one after the next after the next, fuming spent shells cluttering the wet asphalt around the outnumbered stranger as he made his desperate, probably hopeless last stand. “Should we help?” I whispered. Lars shook his head. Madeline looked conflicted.

I watched in awe as buckshot shattered the torso casing of a military robot, jagged shards falling away. Then the next blast took off half its face, revealing the same ugly innards I glimpsed earlier. The next load of buckshot finally penetrated the battery.

The mindless, marching pile of parts burst into flame but didn’t fall. Onward it trudged, one foot in front of the other. By my best reckoning there were easily forty, maybe fifty robots closing in from all directions.

The cloaked man’s bandolier, slung loosely around his upper body, couldn’t last forever. Another blast finally sent the flaming shambler tumbling backwards, light rain doing nothing to put the flames out.

Too many. Just too many, by far. Raindrops pattering their rigid, unflinching bodies as they advanced. A flash of lightning illuminating their silhouetted ranks from behind. The first of them to step over the sandbag barrier seized the man’s wrists.

To my surprise he easily pulled free, knocked the robot to its knees and positioned the shotgun at its neck pointing down into the torso. He then summarily blasted its insides to scrap in a blinding flash of sparks, flames and debris.

The man kicked it back over the barrier and batted at the part of his cloak which had caught fire. Enough of a distraction that the next robot to step over the barrier was able to snatch the shotgun from his hands.

I expected it to be over soon after that. For the military robot which now brandished the man’s shotgun to turn it on him and put an abrupt, bloody end to this firefight. Instead, something bizarre happened.

More robots closed in and pinned the man down by his arms and legs. The one on top of him removed his hood. I couldn’t see his face from this angle but he had to have been terrified. The shotgun now lay unattended to one side of the dogpile.

“They’re just gonna come for us next” I whispered to the other two as they tried to restrain me. Military robots are nothing if not thorough. They might assume the man was there to stand guard while his buddies looted what remained of the police station.

I took my chance and leapt for the shotgun. None of them so much as noticed me. In the excitement I forgot all about the mylar cape. I’ve never fired a shotgun before but I knew to expect a strong recoil; So I planted one foot behind me, the stock against my shoulder and unleashed Hell.

Each blast all but deafened me. I had only a split second between them to adjust my aim, as the unprepared robots all struggled to reach me before I could scrap ‘em. I felt as if overtaken by some sort of manic frenzy.

Still, they came. Even the ones I’d blasted the legs off of. They crawled, outer shell long since shredded, human shaped masses of chaotically sparking electronics pulling themselves towards me with single minded purpose.

Madeline stood up from behind the desk and gestured to me. I threw her the pistol, until now tucked into my waistband and she started picking them off from across the room. The caliber of the new gun proved more effective by far than her old 9mm, immolating the battery pack of the crawler nearest me in a single shot.

She grinned at the piece in her hand with newfound appreciation, then resumed shooting. Between the two of us the room was soon piled high with mangled robot scrap, much of it on fire. I stopped shooting, and a moment later so did Madeline.

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^{Stay Tuned for Part 16!}