I am Automaton 3: Shadow of the Automaton

by Edward P. Cardillo

  Yuri reached clumsily for the barrel, but Luka didn’t give him the chance. He pulled the trigger, emptying both barrels and effectively taking off the top of Yuri’s head.

  Yuri dropped on top of Marina, motionless, as she continued to take her pleasure from him. Luka pulled the now entirely lifeless body of Yuri off of his wife and threw it to the ground beside the bed.

  Marina sat up growling at her husband as he sat on the bed beside her. He caressed her hair matted with blood and bile as she snapped at him.

  “Now, now, my Marina. You had no idea what you were doing. It wasn’t your fault. I deserved it, anyway.”

  She snarled and spat blood at him, but he patiently wiped it from his face. He was not angry. This was his penance for neglecting and murdering her.

  But he still loved her. She was his under the Law, even now in her current state, and he never walked away from what was his. Never.

  “Tonight I have to do something very important,” he explained to her, as if she was comprehending him, in denial of the harsh truth. “It’s what I’ve been working on all of this time. After tonight you will no longer be alone.”

  He nearly choked on that last part. He now felt the guilt of months of long hours and late nights pour into him, making his soul heavy. As he sat there on the bed gazing into her milky white eyes, he suddenly was able to understand how alone Marina must have felt.

  She sat there wheezing loudly, shaking the mattress as he ran his hand down her face. Her skin no longer retained the softness that he had grown accustomed to. It was dry and stretched tight over her high cheekbones.

  He stood up, backed away from his bride, and stared at her…Kafka’s creation. Kafka’s soldier. His mind began to engage in mental gymnastics, rationalizing the tragedy before him.

  Marina always stood on the sidelines, watching her husband come and go and work silently in the kitchen. She never knew the exact nature of his work, only that it was going to bring down the infidels, the Western oppressors. Now she was a part of his work…an integral part of it as a matter of fact.

  His twisted reverie was interrupted by Luka’s sudden awareness of the pungent smell of blood and bile. His expression soured. He never viewed his wife as an equal. He had felt that contempt that men from his culture had for women, but now he felt revulsion at the sight of her beyond misogyny. It was more basic. More primal.

  “I must leave you now, Marina. Please stay in the apartment. I will come back for you.”

  She grunted randomly, but he took it as a response and smiled warmly, seeing the woman he married. He leaned over and kissed her head and she grimaced. Then he left the bedroom.

  She sat there alone on their marriage bed staring into oblivion as she heard the front door close and the digi-lock engage.

  She was alone again.

  ***

  20:03 HRS

  Elicia nearly jumped out of her skin when there was a knock at her dorm room door. She had been staring at her blank computer monitor for God knows how long. For some reason, she had been afraid to turn it on. Ever since her Lit class, she felt uneasy.

  She stood up and cracked her back. “Who is it?” she called through the door.

  “It’s your roommate, stupid,” said a voice on the other side of the door.

  Elicia’s face lit up. She strode over to the door and opened it. “Darcy, what are you doing here?”

  “Good to see you too, bitch.” Darcy stood in the hallway wearing a wry smile, her trademark smile that stopped traffic and made all the boys (and even a few girls) come running.

  “I mean I thought you were home for the summer.”

  Darcy shrugged. “I got bored.”

  Elicia turned around and walked back toward her powered off computer. “I didn’t think you were ever capable of being bored.”

  When she turned back around, she was puzzled to see that Darcy was still standing in the doorway looking pale in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. “What are you doing standing in the hallway? Come in already.”

  Darcy smiled mischievously, “Don’t mind if I do.” She stepped into the dorm room as if she were crossing some invisible barrier.

  “So really, what are you doing here?”

  “I came to take you up on my offer to go out.”

  Elicia rolled her eyes and tipped her head back in an exaggerated gesture of exasperation. “Oh, that.”

  “Now you promised me at the end of the spring semester, and then you chickened out. You have no excuses this time. It’s summer, and you only have one class to worry about, and it’s a total bullshit class, so I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Do I have to?” Elicia groaned.

  “Yes, you do. You have no choice in the matter whatsoever,” Darcy declared.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Well then, we’ll just have to kidnap you.”

  “We? Who’s we?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” teased Darcy with her trademark smile. “I have a surprise for you,” she sang.

  “What surprise?”

  Matt Brauer stepped into the doorway, the lighting giving him a pale appearance too. Elicia felt her skin go cold. “What’s he doing here?”

  Darcy stood next to Elicia, placing her arm around her. Her grip was strong, and there was a weird clicking sound. It was coming from…

  “Now, Elicia, there’s no reason to be rude to the guy you’ve been crushing on all year.”

  Elicia felt her face flush. “Darcy! Jesus Christ!”

  “Hi, Elicia,” said Matt from the doorway.

  “Come in, Matt. We’re all friends here. I mean, Elicia invited me in.”

  “Groovy,” said Matt, and then he too stepped into the room.

  Elicia felt ambushed. After their interaction in the computer lab, Elicia had written him off. Or at least she had convinced herself she had. Her thoughts began to race. Maybe it hadn’t gone as badly as she remembered. Maybe she had misinterpreted his reaction. Maybe he was playing hard to get. She was always terrible at reading people.

  “Relax, I’m here, aren’t I?” he said as if reading her mind.

  This startled her even more, and she looked into Darcy’s eyes for guidance. Darcy’s eyes put her at ease, and the weird clicking sound began to fade away. Darcy would never hurt her. She knew that. This had to be right.

  Yet somewhere a voice screaming in the back of her mind told her that it wasn’t right. That nothing was right about this scenario. However, as she looked into Darcy’s big, blue eyes that voice, too, faded away until it was forgotten.

  “But the computer lab…I-I—”

  “I was taken by surprise,” said Matt, shrugging his shoulders sheepishly. Damn he was cute. “I didn’t know how to react. You see, I have been secretly crushing on you all this time. I had no idea you felt the same.”

  Darcy licked her lips as she saw Matt drown Elicia in the depths of his black eyes, his fangs protruding from underneath his lip.

  Elicia gazed languorously at her crush and shook her head in disbelief. This was like a dream. It was all too good to be true…and happening so quickly.

  “See,” whispered Darcy in her left ear, “you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re way prettier than your sister.”

  She was careful not to let the tips of her fangs brush Elicia’s ear, but in Elicia’s state, it probably wouldn’t have been noticed. The darkness in Darcy’s eyes swirled like whirlpools of oil.

  Elicia looked at Darcy, who still looked pale, and noticed two bite marks on her neck. Darcy read her mind. “Oh, these damn mosquitos. I hate bugs.”

  That voice in the back of her mind was screaming again, refusing to be drowned out. It was a primal scream…a scream for self-preservation.

  “Why don’t you say we all go out and have some fun, just the three of us,” said Darcy, squeezing Elicia harder. “It’ll be a blast. You and Matt can get to know each other.”

  Matt smiled, and Elicia was immediately lost in his dimples. “I’d re
ally like that, Elicia.”

  He held his hand out to her. She hesitated. The voice in her head began to fade as she took notice of that strange clicking sound, like cicadas…in her dorm room.

  But it was too early for cicadas…

  She took Matt’s hand and he and Darcy whisked her out of the room on the fuzzy wings of a summer night’s dream.

  ***

  21:10 HRS

  Peter stood outside of Frisky’s on a line snaking out the front door like a serpent. There were bouncers at the front entrance and what looked like a metal detector.

  Shit. He had to ditch the gun he had strapped to his ankle under his jeans, and inconspicuously. What was Frisky’s doing with a metal detector? This was Texas for Chrissake!

  He waited until the line took him by some parked cars in the gravel parking lot. “Gotta take a leak,” he said casually to the guy behind him, who didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass one way or the other.

  He stepped off the line for a moment, stepped in between two cars, and unzipped his fly. He glanced over his shoulder to find a couple of guys behind him on line glancing at him and then quickly losing interest.

  Fortunately, there was some urine in his bladder to void and he did so, his stream splashing lightly on the gravel. Then he zipped up, stepped away, knelt as if he was tying his shoelaces, he reached up his pant leg, and pulled out the handgun. He quickly threw it and the extra clips into the bushes and then made a mental note of where it all landed.

  When he returned to his place in line, the man behind him backed up to make room. He nodded at the man, who in turn nodded back and quickly became disinterested again.

  Great. Now if Carl actually were to show up, he wouldn’t be able to blow his brains out. Peter remembered the last time they were in Frisky’s together. That was when he met Yvette. Peter hoped Carl wasn’t still sore about that.

  He remembered Carl’s way with the women in the bar, and afterwards his way with the cowboy antagonists and the bouncers. Peter was suddenly reminded of how strong and fast Carl was now, and the notion was sobering.

  Peter didn’t know what to expect. After all, Carl was still his little brother. There still appeared to be a part of Carl that cared about Peter and their father. Then again, ever since he started calling himself Kafka and looking less and less human, he became ruthless…diabolical even.

  Finally, he reached the door and was asked to step through the metal detector by two really well muscled bouncers. They looked like mercenaries or paramilitary.

  As he stepped into the scanner, he wondered how Carl planned on getting into the bar undetected. One thing was for sure. He wasn’t coming in armed. However, since the bouncers were only looking for weapons, there was the possibility that Carl’s other…attributes might go unnoticed.

  The one bouncer nodded to Peter, and he stepped into the bar. Despite the amplified security, Frisky’s was the same old shit dive bar it had always been—dark, smoky, lousy music and even lousier women.

  It was crowded, particularly for a Thursday night. He saddled up to the bar and took in his surroundings. The clientele looked the same, but the staff looked different. However, Peter wasn’t a regular these days, so he had no basis for such a claim.

  But that wasn’t it. Nope, something else was different about the staff. They looked like the bouncers at the front door. Now that he thought of it, all of them did from the bar maids down to the bus boys. And there were more of them than usual.

  He saw Carl sitting alone in a booth on the far side of the dance floor. He knew it was Carl before he saw him. It was something he felt, and Carl must’ve felt it too because he nodded to Peter as their gazes met.

  Peter crossed the dance floor, navigating past men with no rhythm and girls flailing their arms about, cigarette in hand. The glowing coal of the cigarette tips seemed to blur before his eyes in streaks of light as he felt each individual’s heart beat like a drum.

  As he approached the booth, he recognized Carl’s lithe form and black as night face and wondered how the bouncers got past his appearance. Then he saw Carl wasn’t alone. On the inside of the booth next to Carl sat Barry, their father.

  “I see you had no trouble getting in,” said Peter standing in front of the booth. Barry looked up, startled.

  “Why don’t you join us, Pete? Have a seat,” said Kafka.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” answered Peter wryly. He slid into the booth opposite Carl and his father. “If you don’t mind me asking, Carl, how did you get into this place looking like a reject from Halloween? Your disguise is pretty piss poor, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Kafka smiled, his four eyes blinking in unison. “C’mon, Pete. There’s only one answer that makes sense. They knew I was coming.”

  So that was why there was a metal detector and staff that all looked like military. “Yet, you still came.”

  “Not only did they know,” said Kafka slyly, “but I’m the one who tipped them off.”

  Peter took the bait. “Now why would you go ahead and do that?”

  The barmaid walked over and was standing in front of the booth. “What can I get you?”

  “A Jameson’s and a Heineken chaser.”

  The barmaid nodded and was off back across the dance floor.

  “Still drinking the same thing, I see. A real creature of habit,” Kafka smirked.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be calling other people creatures. Anyway, I thought to myself ‘why would you do something like that?’” Peter persisted.

  “Now, boys,” Barry interjected. “There’s no need to start fighting. Pete, your brother came in peace.”

  “Did he now?” Peter never took his eyes off his brother. “You shouldn’t have come, Dad. This is between me and Carl.”

  “There’s no need to snap at Dad, Pete. I actually invited him. He’s my insurance that you’ll behave.”

  Barry smiled and nodded at this, interpreting it as a statement about his role as peacekeeper between the two boys. Peter saw it for the threat that it was. Barry was Kafka’s hostage.

  “I do come in peace. Take me to your leader,” he said in a mock alien voice. Then his expression became serious. “If I wanted you dead, Pete, you’d be splattered across the wall already and you wouldn’t have known what hit you.”

  “You never answered my question, Carl.”

  “I wanted them to know I was coming because there was no point in hiding it. I am not here for them.”

  “So then, what are you here for, Carl?”

  “Why for you, of course.” As Peter pondered the meaning of this affirmation, Kafka continued. “Have you seen your doppelgänger yet?”

  “We’ve met.”

  The barmaid was back with Peter’s whisky and beer. She placed them on the table. “Settle now or run a tab?”

  “Run a tab,” Peter answered, never taking his eyes off Carl.

  Her heart beat quickened a bit as she shot a glance at Kafka. Peter felt it, and he was sure Carl did too. Something was up. She walked away.

  “Well, Pete, what shall we toast to?”

  “To family reunions,” Peter responded sarcastically.

  Kafka picked up his glass, Barry did the same, and all three men clinked their glasses together. Peter downed his whiskey and took a large gulp of his beer. Kafka downed his entire pint of what looked like a dark ale in a few hungry gulps and then took Barry’s beer. He down Barry’s beer in quick order as Barry sat there stunned.

  Kafka took his last swallow and smacked his lips together in satisfaction.

  “You’ve become quite the heavy weight,” said Peter.

  “One of the many benefits of being an evolved being,” said Kafka. “You haven’t let him in. Why?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Peter taking another gulp of his cold beer.

  “Your doppelgänger. You obviously haven’t let him in. If you did, you’d be…different.”

  Barry just sat there quietly watching the ex
change between his two sons, struggling to understand what the hell they were talking about.

  “Different how? Like you?”

  “Carl’s really not a villain,” Barry jumped in. “There’s just been a big misunderstanding.”

  “Dad,” said Peter tersely, “stay out of this.”

  “Why, when he’s very much a part of this?” taunted Kafka.

  “Yeah, he’s a real saint,” said Peter bitterly through gritted teeth. “The Automaton, national hero. Or am I talking to the mighty Kafka, notorious terrorist, now? I get real confused sometimes.”

  “Saint or sinner,” said Kafka. “Why choose? Why can’t we be both from time to time?”

  “Too bad the public doesn’t know you are one in the same.”

  “Well, you saw to that yourself, Pete, when you played the Automaton in Italy. When you turned the undead on all of those helpless people.”

  “That was some trick, little brother.”

  “Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet, big brother.”

  “Why do I believe you?”

  “Because you know what you’re up against.”

  “Do I?”

  “Why fight me, Pete? You know you can’t win. Join me. You and Dad. There’s going to be a changing of the guard around here, and believe me, you don’t want to get caught on the wrong side.”

  “You’ve pretty much drafted me.”

  “Pete, the army threw you out. You thought you were being a good soldier, serving your country like a true blue-blooded patriot, but as soon as they thought you might be dangerous, they tossed you out on your ass.”

  “Maybe I am dangerous, Carl.”

  “Oh, no doubt, you’re a killer, and pretty soon you’ll be in good company. But I didn’t want you or Dad to become like the drones, mindless undead with no soul. I wanted better for the two of you.”

  “You sold your soul to E.T., Carl. Look at you. You look like a frickin’ insect. You’ve got four eyes. This is better?”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, Pete.”