Starsong Chronicles: Exodus

by Clayborn, JJ

  “What the hell, man!?” Larry shouted, his rifle trained on the spot where he friend disappeared. “What the hell?” The Sheriff stood and was about to run after Jamee, but James put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

  A ringing beep sounded through James’ ears. He felt disoriented. “I don’t know. We need to go.” James stood, scanning with his rifle. He felt dizzy. He swore he heard whispering coming from every direction. “We need to go now. Let’s fall back.”

  Larry stood, his back to James. “I’m all turned around. Which way is the car?”

  The fog seemed thicker. The echoes of gunfire seemed more distant and scattered, but still persisted. Shouting still lingered, but it sounded far away. James felt like the world was spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself.

  “I’m pretty sure the car is this way,” James said, pointing with his left hand.

  “That’s what I thought, too. Let’s head out, slow and steady.” Larry turned and faced the direction of the car. “I’ll take point, you watch my six.” He slowly began walking.

  James turned so his back was to Larry and swept his rifle back and forth along the trees he walked backwards. The fog was definitely thicker now. The ringing in James’ ears got worse. He stopped walking for moment as a dizzy spell washed over him. He closed his eyes and tried to steady himself.

  When James opened his eyes the fog in front of him was glowing red. “Fuck!” He cried, both startled by the change and ashamed for having missed it.

  Larry immediately stopped and swept his rifle, looking for a target. “What?” he asked; the professional soldier, never looking backward to see the cause for alarm for himself – keeping his eyes fixed on his area of coverage in the front.

  “No idea.” James said, his rifle trained at the glowing patch. “Red.”

  “Red?” The confusion clear in Larry’s voice. “What’s red?”

  “The fog behind us. Glowing red.”

  “Why?” Larry asked, concerned. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Let’s just go.” He continued walking forward.

  James followed, his eyes trained on the glowing red patch. Whatever it was, it seemed to keep pace with them – never coming close enough to see clearly. James could tell that Sheriff Long was unsettled. He could hear the Sheriff’s heartbeat; quick and pulsing.

  A cracking sound to James’ right forced him to snap his head to look. A chill washed over him. A person stood next to him, within arm’s reach. It took his brain a moment to catch up. It wasn’t a person – not a human person. This person was skinny and was made of metal. It had a human shape to it, down to the human-looking face. Its eyes were empty, cold orbs of dark glass. It had bits of white ceramic where teeth would be. Plates of metal formed a pretty complete skull with cheeks. There was a gap in the plating right in the middle, between the eyes.

  All of it happened within a second. As soon as James realized what was happening the robot’s eyes suddenly glowed bright red. Two immediate thoughts flashed through James’ subconscious. First, the red glow behind them was another robot, following them. Second, they were communicating quietly – the one in the back was guiding this one through some kind of connection.

  The buzzing in his ears dramatically increased and his body reacted purely by instinct. “Eyes! Red Eyes! Contact, contact!” he shouted, trying to bring his rifle to bear.

  The robot quickly grabbed the rifle and bent it in half in one smooth movement. He struck James with a backhand blow that sent James flying. The robot’s metal arm made a loud clang that reverberated for a moment. James hit the ground and rolled, absorbing the impact somewhat.

  Another pair of red eyes appeared on the other side of Larry and he was now surrounded by three robot attackers. James was several feet away, unable to do anything useful. The sheriff whirled around and tried to fight back. He managed to squeeze off a few rounds from his rifle hitting one robot in the chest, the bullets ricocheting off the armor. That robot grabbed Larry’s rifle and bent it. Simultaneously the sheriff drew his service pistol and began firing while backing up. He managed to hit one of the other robots right in the eye and it fell to the ground.

  “So you can be killed!” Larry shouted.

  The first robot snatched the service pistol from Larry’s hands with ease. As he was bending that weapon the sheriff produced a tactical knife and tried to stab the robot. The blows were bouncing off of the armor plating. The blade bent and twisted with each strike causing more injury to Larry than the robot.

  The robot tossed the remains of the service pistol aside and with lightning speed, grabbed the sheriff’s arm with one hand. He snatched the knife with the other hand.

  Larry punched the robot in the side of the head, but this only hurt Larry. He cried out in pain as his hand fractured in several places. Undeterred, Larry tried to kick the robot and punch at the arm joints.

  The robot let go of Larrry’s arm and grabbed him by the throat. The robot lifted Larry completely off the ground and crushed his windpipe with a sickening crunch.

  One of the human fighters appeared out of nowhere and opened fire on the robot. The robot dropped Larry’s corpse and, with expert precision, threw Larry’s knife into the head of the human hunter.

  James scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He never stopped to look back and never slowed down. For a second his mind filled with guilt about running from the battle. But Larry and the other man were dead and he couldn’t fix that. The rest of the group was scattered and he didn’t know where they were or if they were even still alive. The best thing, he rationalized, was to get back to town and sound the alarm.

  James sprinted as fast as he could through the forest. The thick fog made it hard to see. More than once he tripped over rocks and sticks, but managed to catch himself and keep going.

  A crack of tree branch to his right made him falter. He slowed and brought the rifle up but was greeted by the sight of two of the men from the posse who ran straight at him.

  “This way!” James cried, pointing ahead.

  The others fell in line to his right and kept pace with him, breathing hard. Their wide eyes flitted about the trees looking for any sign of danger.

  “What happened?” James asked.

  “No idea!” The man on his right, George Daley, answered, panting and out of breath. “One minute we were in the search line, the next minute everyone was shooting and shouting.”

  The other man, Elvin Gleason, continued. “Then we noticed the fog in front of us starting to glow red and we took off.”

  By chance, the group found the clearing where the cars were parked. James faltered for a moment. “Shit!” he yelled as he stopped.

  The other men stared at him confused as they came to a stop beside him. “What?” George asked panting, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Compared to the other two men, he seemed out of shape.

  He gestured angrily at the pickup. “Larry drove!” The other two were about to ask so James filled them in. “He’s dead. One of those robots picked him up like a ragdoll and crushed his throat.”

  The other men shrugged. “We were both passengers too,” George panted.

  “Dammit! Come on then,” he said, running toward the cars. “Let’s at least look.” James got to the truck first. He pulled the door and it opened. His ears were greeting by unmistakable dinging sound. “Yes! Get in!”

  The two men climbed in, Elvin climbing into the bed of the truck and George in the passenger seat.

  James smiled at George as he started the car. “Normally, I hate that dinging sound that it makes when you leave your keys in the ignition. But just now, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

  George didn’t laugh. He stared at the keys, lost in thought. “Do you think he knew?”

  “Knew what?”

  George looked at James. “Did you think Larry knew that we’d come under attack? I’ve known him for nearly a decade and he has never l
eft his truck unlocked, let alone keys still in the ignition before.”

  James shook his head. “I’d rather not think about that right now.” He pulled the truck forward far enough to circle around the mess of cars. He noticed that some of the cars were missing. He felt a twinge of relief. “It looks like at least some of the posse escaped.”

  James finished navigating through the clump of vehicles and began driving away from the site. Loud gunshots from the bed of the truck startled him. “What?” He cried out, checking the mirrors.

  George turned around to look. “Robots, four of them, running toward us.” He pulled out his rifle and opened the sliding glass window. He pushed himself halfway through it and began firing as well. The smell of gunpowder filtered faintly into the cab of the truck and competed with the smell of oil for James’ senses.

  George and Elvin managed to shoot a couple in the face causing them to topple over, but more showed up. It seemed only a direct shot between the eyes would do the trick every time. Other shots glanced off or had no effect.

  The first two robots in the group chasing them were gaining on the truck.

  Elvin banged on the roof. “Faster, Ranger! Go Faster!”

  “I’m already doing 30 on this forest road,” James protested. “They aren’t made for speed.”

  George pulled himself back through the window as he reloaded. “Today they are, my friend.” He reached over and pushed James’ knee down into the accelerator, gunning the engine.

  “I’ll break the suspension if we push it too hard through here,” James said as they flew down the rough dirt road.

  “It’s better than being dead by space robots.” George crawled back through the window and began shooting again.

  When the truck reached forty miles per hour the robots stopped closing in and just kept pace. The bumpy road made hitting the robots with the guns very difficult. After another half mile the truck spilled dramatically out onto the main paved road, skidding and fishtailing slightly while James punched the gas and turned to the right. Within moments the robots fell behind and quit the chase, retreating slowly back into the fog of the woods.

  James pulled his gas mask off and threw it on the seat. “I guess we don’t need these after all.” The others followed his lead.

  The three men sat back, relieved. They rode in silence as they contemplated what happened. Being numb from the experience James had no concept of time. Before he realized it, he was pulling up to Chiu’s store.

  Mary was standing in the parking lot interviewing survivors of the battle. James counted three cars in the lot and eight people, including Mary. They were all talking frantically until they saw the Sheriff’s pickup pull into the lot. The small crowd ran over.

  James and the others climbed out, much to the surprise of those standing there.

  Mary glanced down the road for any sign of other cars. She looked around the truck, searching for someone. “Where’s Sheriff Long?” She asked.

  James frowned and shook his head. His expression communicated everything clearly.

  “You’re sure?” She asked, not wanting to believe it.

  James nodded. “I’m sure. I watched it happen. He put up one hell of a fight, but he was no match for them.”

  “Them?” Mary asked. “Who’s them?” She clicked her phone on to record his conversation.

  “I don’t know who exactly, killer space robots,” James explained.

  Elvin stared at James curiously. The other survivors seemed genuinely shocked. “Killer robots?” One of them asked. “Like the Terminator?”

  James turned and looked at them with a furrowed brow. “Weren’t you there?”

  They shrugged. “Not all of us.” The man gestured to himself and a few others. “Our car broke down before we got there.”

  One of the other men spoke up. “We were there, but then the fighting started and we lost contact with everyone else. We fell back together as a group and could hear the gunfire and the shouting, but had no idea what was happening. Then the fog started glowing and we ran. We passed the others on the road on the way back.”

  Mary nodded. “And that’s as far as I got with them. I was trying to interview them like the Sheriff promised, but they didn’t know anything specific.”

  James nodded. “Well, I think we can guess a bit more than that.”

  Mary cocked her head at him inquisitively.

  James continued on. “First, we know that as machines they are strong and fast. One of them easily threw me like a rag doll and others kept a running pace with our truck at 40 miles per hour.”

  “They’re also hard to stop unless you shoot them in the eye,” Elvin said.

  “The chest is armored,” George added, while slapping his own chest for effect.

  “And, it’s just a guess, but I’m fairly certain that can communicate wirelessly with each other in close proximity,” James continued.

  Everyone looked at him, but Mary asked the question. “Why do you think that?”

  “Well, when Larry and I were first attacked we saw the fog in front of us glow red…”

  “It’s their damn creepy eyes!” George interrupted, momentarily panicked at the memory.

  James nodded and continued. “Yes, we later learned that it was their eyes. However, we were flanked by two others, one from each side. We didn’t see them coming because their eyes were off. Now, either they have a sophisticated sensor package that lets them operate without visual input, or else they were remotely accessing the visual input of the robot whose eyes were on and using that camera to guide them in.”

  George whistled in shock.

  “Son of a bitch,” Elvin cried.

  The rest of the survivors muttered and grumbled. They all talked over each other for a moment until Elvin quieted them. “Ranger, I’ll ask what we’re all thinking… how the hell are we supposed to beat an enemy that’s stronger than us, faster than us, and is telepathic, and made of metal?”

  James frowned and shook his head. “I honestly have no idea. I’m way over my head here. All I know is that we have to try.” He straightened up. “We need a game plan. But, we need to spread the word, first.”

  Mary chirped up. “I’m publishing this article right now,” she said, typing away at her phone. “In 10 minutes everyone in the state will know.”

  “Okay, good,” James said. “Next, we need to replenish our ranks and our weapons.”

  “People should come after they read the story,” George suggested.

  “Yes, but will it be enough?” Elvin asked. “We left here with 80 well-armed people, and there are less than a dozen of us left. I don’t think we much of a dent. We don’t even know how many of them there are.”

  “He’s right,” James said. “We’re going to need a lot more people. And different weapons. The weapons we had for this fight weren’t very effective. We took a few of them, but they got a drop on us. We need to something stronger.”

  “The military?” George asked.

  James nodded. “They’ve got to help now. They have to.”

  “And if they don’t?” Elvin asked.

  “Well, even if they do, that brings us to the last item on the list; we need to capture one of them, preferably operational.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” One of the other survivors shouted.

  “We aren’t going back there!” said another one.

  “Why do you want to capture one?” George asked.

  “Well, for starters I want to interrogate it. I want to find out why they are here, and what they’ve done to the people who are acting strange. I want to know how to help them, don’t you?”

  A chorus of grumbled, reluctant agreement and nods responded.

  James continued. “Secondly, if we have one of them alive then we can examine it, study it, and find out what makes it tick.”

  “And then we can learn their weakness and figure out how to defeat them!” George said.

  “Precisely,” James nodded. “But that means an
other excursion into their territory.”

  “We can’t survive another battle,” one of the other survivors protested, panic stricken.

  “I agree. It’s not going to be a battle. We go to the edge of the zone and do a snatch and grab – we kidnap one,” James explained.

  “And how do you propose we contain it?” One of the survivors asked.

  “We cut the cords to the servos in its limbs. That would paralyze it,” James stated.

  Elvin chimed in. “And if they communicate wirelessly, how do you propose that we stop it from calling for backup?”

  James held up a finger and went to the back of Sheriff Long’s truck. He rummaged around for a minute and came back with some type of heavy, folded cloth. “With this.”

  Mary chuckled, she saw where this was going. The others weren’t as quick.

  “A blanket?” George asked. “My aunt can knit a mean blanket, but I don’t see how it’s going to do us any good.”

  James shook his head. “Not a blanket. This is a bomb blanket. It’s heavy, it’s thick, and it’s designed to minimize the explosive force of a bomb.” James unfolded it so that they could see. “If it can stop a bomb, it should dampen any signals coming from that thing. Even if it doesn’t block it completely, it should minimize the range.”

  The small group of survivors all stared at each other and then back at James. “Ranger, you are crazy, you know that, don’t you?”

  James smiled and gestured towards the truck. “Ready to go?”

  Sunday, November 16th

  The group had gathered up as many supplies as they could, but James doubted it would be enough. Mary and four of the others stayed behind at Chiu’s to meet any volunteers who showed up. George, Elvin, and three other survivors, piled into the truck with James.

  James drove the pickup as quickly as he dared – he wanted to get there and back before nightfall. They had enough time to get there and lay a trap as long as they kept moving.

  “So what’s the plan, Ranger?” Elvin asked as they drove.