Damn the consequences.
Arnon D’Bvaym
64BIT STARED. THERE had been a man at the bottom of the hill just a moment before—no, not a man. A rozie. It had to be. What man would walk through the forest alone and barefoot? Why else would his mouth be bloody? 64Bit shakily got to his feet and looked around. The forest was so thick—the rozie could hide anywhere, and 64Bit would be unable to find it. He couldn’t even run away—64Bit couldn’t move silently through the brush, like the scouts. Was it hunting Khalil and Richard? 64Bit shuddered at the thoughts that buzzed through his mind like angered hornets and clutched his staff, painfully aware of his failure to learn its secrets. He was a fool. He shouldn’t have hidden the master’s condition—he shouldn’t have covered up his weaknesses. And now he would die for his hubris.
A soft wind rustled a few leaves, but nothing else happened. 64Bit spared a glance at the blue, endless sky. “Do I die standing here with my knees quivering?” 64Bit asked the heavens. He pinched himself, then began running through his options. If he stayed on the hilltop and waited until the rozie returned, perhaps he would see it before it reached him; he could run the other direction. He could scream for help, but he feared that would just alert the rozie that he had companions nearby.
“Concentrate, 64Bit. There’s a signal—look for the signal.” 64Bit whispered, repeating the words the master had shared many times before when teaching him how to interact with the Therexe Cube. “It’s a different sensation than the feeling of the air around you, more directed. Speak to it. Send a command back.” He tried to push out distracting sensations as he had before, but his fear heightened the feeling his body was feeding him: he felt the rush of blood through his veins, warmth in his face and chest, and sweat on his palms that made the metal of the staff slick. That’s all he felt—he couldn’t push out the distractions.
64Bit held his staff before him and slowly, eye screens roving every direction, began walking down the hill.
Where was the rozie?
“If I can evade it,” 64Bit licked his lips, “get to the ATV. Find Richard and Khalil. If I can’t—scream. Warn them. They’ll live. That’s practical. They can return and warn others.” He hoped he would have the strength to do so if the moment came.
Eventually, he reached the bottom of the hill, a walk that felt like hours. The trees, previously majestic, now felt like they crowded around him, faceless and expressionless, like hooded cultists staring down a sacrificial offering. 64Bit looked at the ground and found where the rozie had been standing—his own feet left no marks on the firm soil, but the rozie’s footprints were clear. 64Bit saw a trail leading up to where the rozie had stood watching him, and then they turned back into the brush. Why had the rozie left instead of attacking him? Was it not a rozie at all, but a man? Some traveler? Why did his face appear bloody?
“I want to talk to you,” a voice said behind 64Bit. It wasn’t Richard’s—though still masculine, the pitch was too high, the edge too sharp. Its request didn’t feel friendly—it felt like a threat.
64Bit screamed, the sound tearing at his throat. He jumped and turned, pointing his staff; the rozie with the bloody mouth stared at him, unblinking, until 64Bit ran out of breath and stopped screaming. Several moments passed with 64Bit’s heart beating so hard that he feared it would burst from his chest. He tried to note everything—the tears in the rozie’s clothes, the set of its fists, its slumped shoulders, things nearby that might trip him if he should run, anything that might help 64Bit survive a few moments longer if the rozie charged.
The rozie began to speak. “I wondered how long it would take for my gift to attract a technomancer. I expected a master, though—you don’t look like you’ve been forged yet.”
64Bit felt as if he were being dissected under its icy blue eyes. This was an intelligent rozie—this wasn’t just one of those mindless, man-eating machines. It appeared that this rozie could think or reason. Was that why its mouth was bloody? Had it snuck up on Richard and Khalil and killed them already?
The rozie lifted its arms up and shrugged. “You going to do anything, meatborg? Drive me away? Shut me off? Or maybe . . .” The rozie’s hand snaked out and grabbed the end of 64Bit’s staff. “You have no idea what you’re doing.” The rozie yanked the staff out of 64Bit’s shaking hands. “Now, let’s talk.”
As the rozie said this, two more rozies stepped out of the forest. They both jerked and twitched as they moved, making them look almost like puppets on strings. Both rozies were covered in burlap instead of synthetic skin, with large holes cut out of the face to reveal lidless eyes and lipless mouths surrounded by dull, gray metal. The burlap on the faces of both were stained the color of rust, with the color deepest and darkest around the mouth. One of the rozies was tall and wide, and the other was small and built like a whip; when the tall rozie opened its mouth to groan, the scent of rot rolled over 64Bit like a thick fog.
More rozies. “Scarecrows,” 64Bit couldn’t help but mutter, recognizing them from the master’s notes. Cheaply-crafted rozies made by dark technomancers with limited resources, normally evidenced by lack of synthetic skin. Universally mindless, violent . . . and hungry.
Something snapped within 64Bit. His legs exploded into action, carrying him into the forest as fast as he could run. He ricocheted off tree trunks, blew through small branches, and ignored every cut and scrape and bruise as his mind obeyed one directive—get away. The rozie crucified to the wall of Fort kept flashing through his mind, but it couldn’t capture the terror of real rozies. Not even the master’s notes and stories could. 64Bit hadn’t even seen them do anything, yet he knew he must run.
He ran, conscious of nothing but the burning in his legs and chest, of the next tree to dodge around or bush to blow through. He only sensed the danger behind him, and that drove him forward.
He crashed into something that grabbed him. He immediately began flailing, kicking, and scratching with all of his tired might, while shouting “Let me go!”
Someone slapped 64Bit’s face. Shocked, 64Bit looked around and recognized Richard and Khalil, both looking at him anxiously. You were screaming so long, we feared—there is no time. Rozie? Khalil signed. 64Bit nodded. Then a cracking sound pierced their ears; Richard’s and Khalil’s heads snapped in the direction 64Bit had come from. 64Bit didn’t know what they saw, but Richard slung 64Bit over his back in a fireman’s carry, keeping him in place with one hand while pulling out a heavy revolver with the other. Khalil also unholstered a pistol, his black and boxy, and stared out into the forest. Richard’s heartbeat hammered through his chest and into 64Bit’s, but he stood still as he watched and listened. “They seem to be coming from one direction.”
Good. The ATV is the other way, Khalil signed with one hand, then took off into the forest. Both Khalil and Richard moved quickly, avoiding the thicker underbrush and being as stealthy as possible, but they still broke branches and whipped through leaves occasionally. As they ran, 64Bit looked back and saw glimpses of the scarecrow rozies crashing through the forest, gaining on them. 64Bit squeaked and held Richard tighter.
“You hear that, Khalil?” Richard shouted. “Just run!” They both picked up their pace, now plowing through underbrush. 64Bit looked back and saw the hideous open maws of the scarecrow rozies, gaining more ground behind them. They were so close . . .
64Bit was thrown from Richard’s back and onto the supply-filled trailer. He winced and rubbed his shoulder as Richard jumped beside him, shouted, “Go!” and pointed the revolver at the scarecrow rozies. Their lipless grins looked like demented leers as they charged the ATV. “Khalil, we need to go, now!” Richard shouted. 64Bit looked backward and saw Khalil standing beside a superheated column of air. “What? Seriously?”
It must happen every time the vehicle has been idle—hold on! Khalil snapped the valve shut and jumped on the ATV. He hit the gas just as the small scarecrow rozie exploded from the dense underbrush, within an arm’s length of the ATV, somehow keeping up despite its unnaturally stiff and jerky movements. 64Bit pointed at it and hollered while Richard fired three times. The first shot flew wide, but the second two hit, one striking the scarecrow rozie in the head and knocking it off balance, the second hitting it in the chest and knocking it over. It fell to the ground, thrashing, but before 64Bit lost sight of it, he saw it stand up and begin running again. The scarecrow rozie disappeared behind a line of trees as Khalil made a hard turn, spraying dirt everywhere, and zoomed off again.
Glimpses of the small scarecrow rozie flashed through the trees as they drove, showing no evidence that it had been shot other than additional tears in its burlap covering. It was able to dodge around the trees and through the underbrush better than the ATV could; with Khalil’s expert driving, the scarecrow rozie was no longer gaining ground, but 64Bit prayed for a straightaway as the rozie matched pace.
“Now’s the time for some techno-wizardry-whatever!” Richard shouted as he popped open his revolver and replaced the three spent shells. “I don’t have a lot of bullets!”
64Bit held on tight to the side of the trailer and looped a foot in the supply net, but still banged his shoulder against the trailer’s side as Khalil turned the ATV sharply around a large tree and zoomed on an old road into the boneyards. 64Bit instinctively reached toward his staff, then remembered that the intelligent rozie had stolen it from him. In a moment of terror-fueled honesty, he blurted out, “I can’t!”
“What?” Richard shouted.
64Bit almost couldn’t speak. “I never could. I—I didn’t think anything would happen. I didn’t think it would matter.”
Richard stared at him, eyes revealing shock and betrayal. He grunted as a break in the road shook the trailer, then glared at 64Bit. His face reddened as he leveled the revolver at 64Bit. “We’re dead men if you don’t do something. If that thing keeps up with the ATV, we will never get the chance to escape. So do something.”
64Bit paled. “I . . .” he whimpered, but Richard’s glare was too much. He sat up and pointed at the scarecrow rozie, his entire focus willing it to stop, to no avail. “Just begone, foul monster!” 64Bit screamed.
The scarecrow rozie began gaining ground again.
A wordless cry from Khalil caused 64Bit and Richard to look forward just as a tree began falling across the road. Khalil hit the brakes and turned left, just avoiding being crushed by the tree as it slammed into the ground. Unfortunately, the ATV then slammed nose-first into a ditch obscured by ferns, throwing 64Bit and Richard out of the trailer into the dirt alongside the road and slamming Khalil’s head into the ATV’s handlebars. Shaking his head, moving slowly, Khalil put the machine in reverse; all four tires spun uselessly. Richard and 64Bit, scraped and bloodied on the ground, watched as Khalil jumped off the ATV and stumbled toward them. Khalil grabbed Richard with one arm and signed with the other, Into the buildings!
Before 64Bit or Richard could stand, a shadow moved behind Khalil. “Khalil, duck!” Richard cried, pointing his revolver. Khalil dropped to the earth and Richard unloaded the revolver as the large scarecrow rozie stepped out of the brush. Three shots—all hit. One in the chest, which left a hole in the rozie’s covering and a silvery divot in the metal underneath; one in the stomach, which blew through and caused the horrendous scent of rotten meat to spill out; and one in an arm, which passed through and caused wires to spark. Unbothered, the large rozie lurched forward and grabbed Khalil. 64Bit heard footsteps behind him, turned, and saw the small rozie running toward them, and the rozie with icy, intelligent eyes and a bloodstained mouth approached from a third direction. Its entrance made 64Bit wonder for a moment if he were in a nightmare: it sat on a large metal trunk with copper-colored clasps that appeared to glide through the underbrush. 64Bit’s staff lay across the rozie’s folded legs; its cold rozie eyes remained fixed on 64Bit.
“I said I wanted to talk,” the rozie said, “but thank you for revealing your friends. Help me out, and one of them will live. Unfortunately, I can’t keep the dead off of both.”
“Don’t touch any of us!” 64Bit shouted. He struggled to his feet: his entire body felt like it was made of gelatin, and fear coursed like lightning through his veins. In a high-pitched voice he continued, “In the name of the Creator, I abjure you: leave me and my wards this instant, or I shall condemn you to the fiery inferno!” He spread his arms out wide, attempting to look threatening.
The intelligent rozie looked bored. “We’re already in hell,” it responded.
“Get away from him!” Richard stood as the large rozie lifted Khalil, thrashing and kicking, by his throat. Richard struck the rozie with the butt of his gun; the rozie casually slapped Richard’s hand in response. Richard cried in pain as his gun flew through the air with a spray of blood. 64Bit saw bloody bone sticking out of Richard’s hand.
Desperate for a lifeline, 64Bit stumbled toward the intelligent rozie, hoping to take back the staff and, in desperation, unleash its power, if he could or if it had any. As he approached the rozie, the metal trunk it sat on surged forward into the air, revealing spiderlike legs that sprouted from its sides, and crashed into 64Bit, bowling him over and knocking the wind out of him. He struggled for air as the trunk, with the intelligent rozie atop it, settled on 64Bit’s legs, painfully pinning him to the ground.
At the same time, Richard grabbed the arm of the large scarecrow rozie and pulled with his whole weight. The rozie stumbled, dropping Khalil, then turned to Richard as the smaller rozie grabbed Richard’s arms from behind. Richard roared, cursing the rozies, but couldn’t stop the large one as it jerked its hand forward, tearing a bloody hole in Richard’s stomach.
The world froze for a moment.
64Bit stared as bloody viscera fell from Richard’s body in slow motion.
Richard looked down at Khalil and mouthed, Run!
Khalil lifted his head to the heavens and screamed, a primal noise that came from his very being. Tears poured from his eyes as he tore out handfuls of his beard.
With a rushing sound in his ears, 64Bit realized that the rozies were moving again. They fell on Richard, hands tearing, jaws snapping, stomachs engorging as they tore him to pieces and feasted. They ignored Khalil as he scooted backward, then pushed himself to his feet and ran into a nearby building, disappearing from view.
“Not exactly what I wanted,” the rozie with the bloody mouth said, its face appearing in 64Bit’s view. “But we can find the runaway later.” Its hands fastened around 64Bit’s throat and squeezed until the world went black.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 