Revenge of the Apocalypse (A Duck & Cover Adventure Post-Apocalyptic Series Book 4)

by Benjamin Wallace

He rolled the window down to let the smell of the field into the car and the smell of the car out. Cold air blew in. He fought back a shiver as Kat pulled into a parking lot and stopped the Beast beside a black SUV that was only a fraction smaller and newer than the Travelall.

  She killed the engine and waited for it to ping to a stop. She pointed to the black truck and spoke. “I thought you said they weren’t coming.”

  Jake watched as the door to the truck opened and a woman stepped out into the chilly night air. She shivered and pulled on a windbreaker bearing the ZUMR Robotics logo. She smiled at Jake and shut her door.

  “Hey, that’s…” began Glitch.

  “What’s this bullshit?” Mason asked.

  “Wait here.” Jake turned to Kat. “All of you. I’ll see what’s up.”

  The Travelall door squeaked as it opened and clanged as he forced it shut behind him.

  “Your team can turn around, Jake,” the woman said. “ZUMR will handle this.”

  “The hell you will.”

  “It’s our equipment, Jake.”

  “It’s our call, Hailey. You left them hanging.” He smiled for the first time. “Which doesn’t surprise me at all.”

  Her smile faded. “Well, I’m here now.”

  “You certainly are.” He looked over her shoulder. He knew she was hiding long and rich dark hair beneath her corporate cap. He knew it smelled like warm coconut. He shut out the memory. “But where’s your team?”

  A whirring sound came from inside her truck and a small robot emerged from the window. No bigger than a coffee can, the Whir-bert flew on small rotors and bleeped and blooped as it perched on Hailey’s shoulder.

  “Your team’s gotten smaller since the last time,” Jake said.

  “They’ll be here. There was some kind of mix-up at dispatch.”

  “Sure there was.”

  Before she could respond, a door to one of the office buildings flew open and a man in a suit jogged across the parking lot to the couple. He steered toward Hailey and stuck out his hand. “Ashley? Thank God.”

  The woman put out her own hand.

  Jake stepped in front of her. “I’m Ashley.” He tried to intercept the handshake.

  The man in the suit pulled his hand back. “You’re Ashley?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man offered his hand again, but with some obvious hesitation.

  “Is there a problem?” Jake asked.

  “I guess I just expected someone less mannish.”

  Hailey laughed at this.

  “Jake Ashley,” he said with emphasis on the Jake. “We’re here to help you with your malfunctioning equipment.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m Dan Forester. I’m sorry. I’m sure that happens quite a bit.”

  “It does,” Hailey said with a laugh.

  “You’re probably used to it then.”

  Jake shook his head. “You’d think so.”

  Forester turned to the woman with the robot on her shoulder. “So, are you with him?”

  “Hardly.” Hailey stepped in front of Jake and took the man’s hand. “Hailey Graves. ZUMR Robotics, Warranty department.”

  “But, I thought you couldn’t be here. I was told you couldn’t be here.”

  “They aren’t,” Jake said. “Miss Graves is alone. My team is here and we’re ready to go.”

  “My team will be here shortly,” Hailey argued.

  “But it’s moving.” There was panic in the corporate famer’s voice. “I told your company this, Miss Graves. We don’t want it to harm anyone else.”

  She nodded where she was supposed to nod, made a sad face at the sad parts and then responded with practiced confidence. “My team should be here in an hour, Mr. Forester.”

  “An hour!” Forester and Jake joined together in their disbelief.

  “It could be gone in an hour, Miss Graves,” Jake said. “We need to take care of this menace right now.”

  Whir-bert looked at Jake and blasted a series of angry bleeps.

  Hailey protested as well. “Sir, if you’ll just be patient, ZUMR will handle this situation.”

  “And what is the reward for his patience, Miss Graves?” Jake asked. “How many more have to die? And how many stories have to be written about all those dead bodies that piled up while we just stood here and waited?“

  “Jake,” she hissed.

  Jake turned back to the man in the suit. “We can have this taken care of in no time, Mr. Forester.”

  “Any actions taken by an independent contractor will void the machine’s warranty.” How she loved to lecture.

  Dan Forester cared about people. That was obvious. But the talk of capital investments shook his principles. Jake could see the hems and haws coming. He had to get in front of them.

  “Warranty?!” Jake said. “How can you think about warranties at a time like this, Miss Graves? What is the cost of a single machine versus a human life?”

  Forester wrung his hands together. “Quite a lot actually.”

  “Is it more than the price of integrity?” Jake asked.

  Forester shrugged with a nervous smile.

  Hailey showed Jake an invoice.

  Jake nodded. “Fair enough. That is a lot. But is it more than the price of a PR team to keep Happy Dell Independent Family Farms Incorporated off the news streams?”

  The man sighed. “Please take care of the matter, Mr. Ashley.”

  Jake turned to the Beast and yelled. “We’re up!”

  The doors opened and the crew filed out of the truck. They moved to the rear and began unloading their gear.

  “You unctuous jerk,” Hailey said under her breath.

  “I’ve asked you before, please don’t insult me with words I have to look up. We don’t have time for that. We have to stop this killer.” Jake started for the truck.

  “You’re a prick,” she said louder.

  He turned. “There. Wasn’t that easier?”

  Forester followed. “So, we’re all good now, right? I can go? Home? You’ll call when it’s done?” The executive farmer turned to leave.

  “Mr. Forester, before you go, there is one thing I have to ask you.”

  “Yes?” He bounced on the balls of his feet. Each bounce took him closer to the safety of his car.

  “Has the machine ever exhibited any artistic qualities?” Jake asked.

  “What… what do you mean?”

  “Has it ever written you a poem? Sung a song? Written a book?”

  “No.”

  Mason popped his head around the corner of the truck. “And it just shot the employee? It didn’t dress him up like a scarecrow and put him on a stake?”

  “What?” Forester squirmed. “No!”

  “It didn’t pin a sign to him that said, ‘If I only had a brain’?”

  “No! My God. Why are you asking this?”

  “It’s just something we have to do, Mr. Forester.” Jake said. “Sentience complicates things. But it sounds like we’re in the clear.”

  Forester looked more frightened by it all than annoyed by the technicalities. “Can I go?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said. “You can run away now.”

  Dan Forester nodded and jogged to his car. He slammed the vehicle’s door and sped away.

  Mason held up Jake’s disruptor pack and motioned for him to turn around.

  “‘If I only had a brain’?” Jake asked.

  “And then the robot takes the brains out of the farmer’s head. That’s poetic justice, Jake. Which is a form of poetry, and poetry is art.”

  “You know why no one likes you, right?”

  “Yep.” Mason held up the pack again.

  Jake slipped his arms into the shoulder straps and switched on the pack. He pulled the discharger from the holster and checked the safety. It was broken.

  3

  They stood at the edge of the cornfield, staring down the rows of the golden green crop as the sun began to set. The breeze danced through the field and the stalks swayed at
its command. The motion and the darkness made it difficult to detect any movement that wasn’t corn.

  Jake didn’t like it. “Send up the drone, Mason.”

  “What drone?” Mason asked.

  “What do you mean, ‘what drone’?”

  “You mean the Seeker 4000 with thermal imaging and focal plane arrays capable of detection and pursuit?”

  “Of course I mean that one.”

  “Ah, well then you would also mean the one that is sitting in thirty-two separate parts back at the office waiting on a new focal plane array, firmware realignment and a valid operator’s permit.”

  “Perfect.”

  A gust of wind startled the cornfield and the stalks dipped further into the rows. A dozen shrill whistles rose from the field.

  “Do you all hear that?” Glitch put a hand to his ear and made an adjustment on a knob hidden behind his earlobe. “What’s that sound?”

  “That’s the wind whipping through the plains,” Mason said.

  “What?”

  Mason stared at the cyborg. “Didn’t you ever blow on a blade of grass?”

  Glitch shook his head.

  Mason grumbled, “Stupid kids,” before saying, “It whistles.” He pointed to the field. “Like that.”

  “Oh, good. I thought my ear was buggy again. I think a wire is loose.”

  “Does any part of you work?” Mason asked.

  “My fist works. Want me to show you?”

  Kat stepped between them. “Knock it off, the both of you. We don’t want this thing sneaking up on us just because you two can’t keep your mouths shut.”

  “We’d never hear it anyway,” Mason said. “This thing has sound baffling like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “For a scarecrow?” Kat asked.

  “The thing was designed to sneak up on birds, Kat. And a crow’s hearing is better than a human’s. And way better than Glitch’s, apparently.”

  “Shut up, Mason. I can hear you, you know.”

  “Perfect.” Jake ignored them both and peered into the rows of corn. He turned his head, listening for the silent killer. “So we can’t see it. And we can’t hear it. Any good news?”

  “Yeah, since it doesn’t really matter, I can keep on insulting ED-Four O Nine pounds here.”

  “Hey,” was Glitch’s only comeback.

  “Seriously, Glitch?” Mason shook his head. “Is there anyway you can upgrade your wit? Because you’re just making things too easy for me.”

  “Just shut up and let me think.” Jake paced the edge of the cornfield, peering down each row as far as the darkness would allow.

  Kat stepped beside him and asked quietly, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it couldn’t be much worse. A silent renegade machine equipped for killing and hiding in a maze of noisy darkness.”

  “I don’t want to be the one to say it, but you could hand it over to Hailey and her team.”

  Jake turned back to the team. “Here’s the plan. We’ll split up—”

  “Because that always works,” Mason said.

  “Shut it, Mason,” Jake said.

  “No, really, I saw it in a horror movie once.”

  “Enough.” Jake walked to the head of a corn row. “We’ll split up. But keep no more than one row between us and stay abreast of each other at all times.”

  Mason held up a finger and opened his mouth.

  “And no abreast jokes,” Jake finished.

  Mason closed his mouth and lowered his hand.

  “Mason, hand out the comms.”

  “What comms, Jake?”

  Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine. Keep an ear out for one another and have their back. This isn’t your typical murderous laundry machine. It’s quiet, has a machine gun for one arm and a sword for the other. It’s dangerous. Let’s find it and put it down quick.”

  The team nodded and spread out across the edge of the cornfield.

  The discharger was shaped like a small carbine and he pulled if from a holster on his hip. He pulled the stock to his shoulder and made sure the cable that ran from the pommel was free of obstruction. His thumb found the safety and switched it off as if it actually worked in the first place. Within seconds, the pack on his back warmed as the circuits closed and the capacitor charged. A pull of the trigger would send the disruption charge through the baton and out a directional Tesla coil at the end of the instrument.

  A single charge could incapacitate most consumer and low-end industrial models. The R34-P3R was weatherized, however, and Jake questioned how effective it would actually be. He looked over to Glitch.

  Each team member carried a similar backpack, but the giant cyborg had another tool slung across his back. The cannon looked like a rifle built to ridiculous proportions. The barrel could double for a sewer pipe, and the receiver was a block the size of a car battery. Its bulk made it too cumbersome for anyone that wasn’t augmented like Glitch.

  Glitch caught Jake’s look and acknowledged the stare.

  Jake nodded. “Keep the IMP handy.”

  Glitch nodded back and stepped into the cornfield. The rest followed his lead and each team member took a row.

  Jake wasn’t but a few feet in when the sounds of nature swallowed the footsteps of his teammates. Having never had the opportunity to wander through a cornfield, Jake had always pictured them as quiet, serene places, but the snap of the stalks and crackle of the plants made it anything but relaxing. Every creak could be their prey, every snap could be an ambush, and every sound put his nerves on edge.

  The ground was moist beneath his feet and rich with an earthy smell that rose with every cautious step. He moved slowly, straining to hear in the darkness.

  A gust of wind pushed the crop deep into the furrowed row. He jumped back and gripped the disrupter tighter in his hand. Two rows over he heard Glitch swear. Four rows over he heard the faint traces of Mason laughing at Glitch’s discomfort.

  The wind calmed and for a brief moment Jake could see further into the crop. Something was there and it was staring back at him.

  Maybe.

  It was as tall as the crop itself and thin like a stalk but, unlike the corn, it didn’t sway.

  A shout rose in his throat but before it could escape his mouth, another gust of wind obscured his view. He held still and waited for the wind to rest. When it did, he peered once more into the darkness at what he thought he had seen. But it wasn’t there. He shuddered.

  “It’s ahead of us,” he called to either side.

  “Where?” Glitch’s voice was faint in the field of plants.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Real helpful!” Mason screamed back. “Thanks.”

  Jake walked faster, calling for positioning every few meters to make sure the team was keeping together. The wind came in spurts and slowed their progress. It soon became almost rhythmic. With every pause, Jake scanned the field for the shadowy figure. But shadows were everywhere and he could never be certain the movement he spotted was anything other than corn.

  Another gust blew a mass of leaves in his face. He grabbed at the plant. “I’m starting to really hate corn,” he shouted and swatted the plant away.

  It was in front of him. An evil face etched in metal beneath a rotting, floppy hat.

  Jake screamed and stumbled backward as the machine swung its left arm.

  He fell beneath the scythe as it cut a silver arc through air and corn. He hit the ground and the sliced plants crashed down on top of him.

  The machine held up its left arm and glanced at an ear of corn impaled on the long and slender blade. The Reaper raised its arm to strike again.

  Jake pulled the disruptor’s trigger. A blue burst of voltage lit the field around him and crackled through the air as the arc connected with the tip of the scythe.

  The arm stopped. The blade shuddered. The speared corncob popped.

  The appendage fell dead at the scarecrow’s side, but the robot did not fall. The machin
e looked at the dead limb and tried to move it again. Its torso bucked but the arm would not respond other than flopping a bit.

  “It’s here!” Jake shouted.

  A whir filled the cornrow and the Reaper raised its other arm. The kernel cannon’s barrels blurred as they spun up to speed.

  Jake scrambled back on knees and elbows.

  The scarecrow fired.

  Plumes of earth chased him backward as the kernels spit from the mini-gun and dug into the ground. They stitched the earth closer and closer until they had reached just below his feet.

  Jake fired again. The disrupter’s charge leapt to the floating barrels but did nothing to stop their spin. The arm did not fall.

  The Reaper continued to fire.

  The musky smell of damp earth was quickly overtaken by the scent of ozone and freshly popped popcorn as the fluffy white snack poured from the barrels and began to pile up on the ground.

  An explosion of cornstalks erupted next to the machine as Glitch charged through the rows shoulder-first at the Reaper. The giant man plowed into the machine, lifting it from the ground and sending it several rows deep back into the field.

  The cyborg glanced at Jake quickly and dove into the field after the machine.

  “Glitch, wait.” Jake started to get to his feet as Mason and Kat found their way through the web of leaves.

  Kat grabbed Jake’s hand and helped him up as Mason grabbed a handful of popcorn off the ground.

  “Where did they go?” Kat asked.

  Jake pointed down the row. “Follow the wreckage.”

  “Did yoush mape dish, Jakgh? Dish ish delicishous,” Mason said through a mouthful of popcorn. “Neesh buttersh sthow.”

  Jake and Kat forced Mason toward the new path that Glitch had cleared through the field. It twisted and turned in indiscriminate directions.

  Fallen stalks tripped at their heels. The uneven nature of the furrowed field grabbed at their toes. More than once, Mason almost choked on his popcorn. For five minutes they rushed after their coworker, shouting his name as they fought to remain on their feet.

  The path cut right, and they were met with a wall of corn. The team nearly fell over Glitch. The large man sat tenderly picking at his arm. His sleeve was dark with blood and he twitched with every touch.

  “Glitch?” Kat put a hand on his shoulder.