Take a moment. Take a deep breath. Chew slowly on something sweet. Listen to music you love. Stare at your favorite artwork. Feel the touch of your lover. The strength of these sensations is nothing compared to what could be.
Arnon D’Bvaym
64BIT CHEWED ON a piece of hard bread and took a small sip from his waterskin to help wash it down. Even with the moisture, it was hard to get the bread to go down his throat. “Food meant to be stored is not food meant to be eaten,” 64Bit muttered to himself.
Westley perked up nearby, then pointed down the road. “Did you see that?”
64Bit followed Westley’s finger, focusing his eye screens where Westley was pointing. He saw movement behind some debris, chunks of broken road piled on the side of a street, then a raven hopped on top of the pile with an ear in its beak. It flapped its wings and took off.
“Nothing,” 64Bit said.
“An attractive bird, though,” Westley said. “Some gloss to its feathers.”
64Bit finished off his small roll of hard bread and wrinkled his nose, missing Cortex’s cooking again.
A few hours earlier, Kayla had repositioned 64Bit and Westley, putting 64Bit near the middle of the side facing the street, then placing herself and Westley on opposite sides of the roof, where they could see a little bit of street and a little bit of shantytown. 64Bit was concerned that speaking in more than a hushed voice would attract rozies, so he was grateful that even Westley didn’t talk much after that. He checked his rozie sense occasionally and still felt some moving around beneath them—one or more, he wasn’t sure.
“At least fifteen times,” 64Bit calculated, imagining how many times he could have combed his home top-to-bottom in search of the master’s stored memories by now. He scanned the road again, starting with a piece of wall in the middle of the road that he used for reference. The rozie that had been standing in the window just in front of the broken wall was gone—lumbered off somewhere deeper in the house, most likely. 64Bit didn’t understand why they spent so much time standing, staring, with no particular purpose, which made him wonder if they had been spotted whenever a rozie began moving. Beyond that, he didn’t see any other changes.
64Bit pushed himself to his feet, then walked over to Kayla. “This is a waste of time, and I’m surprised that you are letting us spend so long—” He froze at the sight of Kayla’s face, curved cheeks wet with tears and eyes red.
Kayla sniffed and glared at 64Bit. “Who gave you permission to stop?”
“I . . . uh . . .” He looked back at Westley, but Westley was staring the opposite direction. “Maybe our time would be better spent elsewhere—looking around, not sitting here.”
Kayla looked down the road and nodded, then wiped her eyes and cheeks dry with her sleeves. She surprised 64Bit when she grabbed his hand—unoffered, but thankfully the uninjured one—and pulled herself to her feet. “I never felt anything toward him, except maybe friendship. I know you and Westley were talking about that. But I miss him. He took a chance on me when no one else would.”
Freed from Kayla’s grasp, 64Bit held his hand up. “Believe me, hormonal attraction is the last thing I would talk about with Westley.”
“It’s not hard to believe that,” Kayla said with a smirk that looked only a little forced.
She looked at 64Bit, brows furrowed, but 64Bit got the sense that Kayla wasn’t really seeing him. Awkwardly, he looked away to scan the road again, but couldn’t find the broken wall in the road he’d been using as a starting point. He pursed his lips and scanned up and down, wondering what had happened. He’d spent too much time staring at the thing to imagine it.
Then 64Bit felt movement at the corner of his senses. He focused and felt the presence of several rozies moving upward, closer. He guessed they were climbing the front steps to the house and felt a chill run through him.
“They’re coming this way,” 64Bit said.
“Is it too late to go down the skylight?” Kayla asked.
64Bit didn’t know how to interpret exactly how close the rozies were; he just sensed their general direction and a feeling that they were coming closer. He thought about the home itself—they had only found one set of stairs going up. “I don’t think it matters. If they are on the stairs already, we aren’t getting down that way.”
“Just use the staff and drive them off. Or cloak us again.” Kayla walked toward the skylight, one hand on the hilt of her knife and the other on the handle of the gun stuck into her belt. “Westley, get away from the skylight!” she said.
Westley jumped to his feet, slung his backpack on, and ran over to Kayla and 64Bit. “What’s happening?”
“Technoboy needs to scare some rozies off, then we’re going back on the street.”
“They’re coming up the skylight? Then we’re trapped!” Westley said, alarm in his voice.
“The rozie from earlier didn’t eat us,” Kayla said, all bravado. She motioned at 64Bit. “Come on, do the thing.”
64Bit wasn’t certain where his reservations came from. Before Zed, he had trusted that, somehow, he would get the staff to work and it would solve all rozie-related problems. Now, with the glove that let him actually operate the staff, and after proving the staff in the stairwell, he should have been more confident than ever. He shifted his grip and stepped forward.
Scuffling sounds began to seep from the room below, some crunching and groaning. The rozies were drawing closer, and 64Bit didn’t need his rozie sense to know that there were many.
“You know that we will still need to run, right? We will need to run and hide and lose them, even if I drive them off—once spotted, we have no reason to believe they will forget about us,” 64Bit said.
Kayla shrugged. “We’ll drop down to the second story and jump to the next house over if we have to. The houses around here are pretty close together.”
“Let’s just start with—” 64Bit began, then flinched as a fist punched through the wood of the nearby trapdoor, sending splinters flying through the air. Metal glinted in the morning light through cuts in synthetic skin as the fist grabbed the roof, then pulled the rest of the body up, taking the trapdoor with it.
64Bit stared in shock, then shook his head and commanded the staff to repel. The feeling he got was of a tight beam shooting from the staff ’s tip, something he couldn’t see, but the rozie reacted by growling and swiping its hands in the air. It pulled itself to its feet and stumbled away from 64Bit, ultimately falling off the roof with a loud crunch as it hit the wider second story.
“Got it!” Kayla said, pumping her fist in the air. Then another rozie poked its head through the skylight and began climbing up.
“They hear us!” Westley said, pointing at the road. Previously unseen rozies were emerging from shanty houses, alleys, and large homes, or wandering in from other streets, making their way toward the home 64Bit and the others were on. Several were running, with long, lurching strides.
Kayla closed her mouth and stared for a moment, then said, “Should have thought of that.” She ran to the edge of the third-story roof, followed by Westley.
64Bit repelled the next rozie, but it was very closely followed by a third, and he found he couldn’t get the beam on both of them at once. He alternated pointing at each rozie, driving them step by step off the roof, as another rozie began climbing up the skylight. A headache began to form in the middle of his head. “This was designed with small groups of rozies in mind,” 64Bit muttered to himself, trying to think analytically to slow his rapidly beating heart. What would get them out of here alive?
“We’re surrounded!” Westley shouted.
More splintering wood; 64Bit looked behind him and saw a rozie punch through the roof between him and his companions. The rozie’s fist disappeared, then punched upward again, making a wider hole, and began tearing at the wood of the roof. 64Bit saw glimpses of a growling, snarling rozie as it tried to pull itself up, but the wood of the roof kept breaking under its weight until it finally grabbed hold of a support beam. More rozies came out of the skylight, more than 64Bit could drive off at once.
64Bit knew that driving the rozies off the roof would only work for a few more moments before they were overwhelmed by rozies; rozies were punching other holes in the roof, struggling to pull themselves up, several eventually succeeding. His legs unfroze at last, and he ran around the nearest rozie toward Kayla and Westley. As he approached, Kayla fired her gun at a rozie on the second story roof; an enormous BANG filled the air and echoed in 64Bit’s ears, Kayla’s arm bucking back. 64Bit reached the drop to the second-story roof just in time to see the rozie, a silver bullet divot in its chest, wheeling its arms in the air as it tried to catch its balance. Kayla fired again, knocking the rozie off its feet and the roof.
More rozies began coming fast onto the third-story roof, their jerky movements agitated. The street in front of the home began to fill with open-mouthed bodies covered in blood, many with engorged stomachs.
“I think you just made them angry,” Westley said.
“Roof is clear, though,” Kayla said. She hopped down, then motioned for 64Bit and Westley to follow her before she jumped onto the next building. 64Bit glanced back and saw the press of rozies that had all tried to go through the skylight at once were finally on the roof, lurching toward him and Westley. That was all the motivation he needed; he and Westley jumped at the same time, landing on the second-story roof. Westley caught himself easily and ran to the edge of the roof, jumped, and landed next to Kayla the next building over.
64Bit, on the other hand, stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, then groaned as pain lanced through his hand from the joining of his mechanical finger; it still wasn’t ready for rough treatment.
“Bit, roll!” Kayla shouted.
It took a second too long for 64Bit to realize Kayla was shouting at him. He felt his shoulder flex as a metal hand grabbed him from behind and pulled him up into the air.
“Creation!” 64Bit cursed, arms and legs flailing. “Somebody—!”
There was a loud crunching behind 64Bit, an explosion of splinters, and 64Bit was knocked to the ground, rolling toward the edge of the roof. He caught himself just before going over. Pushing himself to his knees, he looked back and saw the trunk sitting on the roof behind him, its lid open with a thrashing rozie halfway inside, its spider legs beating at the creature so the trunk could close its lid on the rozie. Then its legs retracted, and a horrible grinding sound emerged, the sound of metal cutting metal, along with an all-too-human shriek that cut off very quickly, but the grinding continued.
Legs shaky, 64Bit forced himself to his feet and leaped toward the next roof over. He almost slipped, but Westley and Kayla grabbed his arms just as his feet skidded on the edge of the roof, pulling him over, then helping him stumble along until he could run on his own. They ran, more rozies pouring onto the roofs of the buildings they had left, pushing each other off the sides, hands punching through the roof they were on.
They jumped to the next building and kept running. No rozies were forcing their way through this roof, but there were many rozies on the ground lumbering along below them. 64Bit glanced back once and thought he saw the trunk leap to the next roof over, but if it was following them, it wasn’t moving quickly enough, as he lost sight of it.
“Did it . . . save my life? On purpose?” 64Bit whispered to himself. He couldn’t imagine why—unless Zed still wanted him alive and had sent the trunk to collect him. 64Bit shivered, suddenly feeling very, very motivated to help Kayla kill Zed—or run away all the faster.
They reached the last home on the block with just enough time to drop to the second-floor porch, run down the stairs, and escape into the maze of shanty houses behind it. 64Bit was afraid of the tight confines of the corridors of the shantytown at first, the way it constricted movement and visibility, but from the crashing behind him it seemed the rozies were slowed even more than he was. 64Bit’s ankles and knees ached, and the change from hiking to sprinting reminded his muscles just how much he had been pushing them the past few days, but he had no choice but to keep moving, following Westley’s back, or take his chances with the rozies.
The shantytown ended at a normal street. Kayla rushed ahead, pointed to her right, and then moved left. 64Bit followed, looking the direction Kayla had pointed, and saw a crowd of rozies milling about. Several noticed them and began stumbling or running after them.
Kayla slowed just enough for 64Bit to run alongside her. She looked at 64Bit. “Can you hide us?”
Between gasps for breath, 64Bit said, “I could.”
“Then do it! We can’t run forever,” Kayla said.
64Bit shook his head. “It would not stop the crowd from running forward—they would still trample us. We have to get out of the way, then it might work.”
“At least we’re getting some distance,” Kayla said.
64Bit looked back; the rozies were slowly losing ground— partially because, like crabs in a basket, the rozies appeared to be pulling each other back in their efforts to move forward, making it look like they were one giant mass of steel, dried blood, and synthetic skin that rolled down the road, absorbing more rozies as they trickled in from houses and alleys.
“I really wish you could drive away more than one or two rozies at a time,” 64Bit whispered to the staff, hand gripping it tightly.
Westley stumbled into an intersection ahead of them and looked back, face red and sweaty, shouting at Kayla, “Where are we going?”
“Left—there’s a garage ahead that I didn’t have the chance to check yesterday. Hopefully, we can find some ATVs there, or anything,” Kayla said. She glanced to the side, pointed and screamed, “Look out!”
It was too late. A rozie sprinted out of a nearby home right at Westley; the synthetic skin of its lower half was so shredded and removed from its metal legs that it looked like it wore a skirt made of skin. Its metal feet skidded on the asphalt, slowing it as it tried to correct its direction, then it grabbed Westley and threw him to the ground. It straddled Westley on its knees, its mouth gaping open and spraying something red and viscous.
“No!” 64Bit shouted, pointing his staff forward as the rozie’s head dropped toward Westley’s throat. He felt a much wider beam emanate from the staff; the rozie froze just before it bit Westley, then looked at 64Bit. It leaped to its feet and charged him.
64Bit screamed again and reversed the push of the staff, narrowing its beam and repelling the rozie away. It skidded to a stop, groaning, then got ready to turn and run. The headache 64Bit had felt earlier grew a little stronger.
Kayla plowed into the rozie, taking it high and looping her arms around its neck, her body parallel with the ground for just a moment. Then the rozie tipped over and fell on its back, Kayla falling on her side. 64Bit commanded the staff to attract the rozie again, causing it to pause once more, and in that breath of time Kayla shoved her gun into its eye and fired once, then twice in the other eye. The rozie stiffened, jerked its arms and legs like a bug, then went still. A gray liquid began to bleed from its eye sockets.
“We did it. We did it! We killed one!” Kayla shouted. She looked back at the rozies following them, her eyes alight, as 64Bit stooped to grab Westley’s arm and try to pull him up. Westley’s eyes were a little unfocused, the back of his head bloody, but he stood and followed as 64Bit pulled him along. Kayla followed a moment later, hands busy reloading the heavy revolver, and then they were running again.
“Mere moments,” 64Bit said, shaking his head.
“Life and death,” Kayla said with a grin.
“Funny lights,” Westley remarked.
64Bit wondered how hard Westley had hit his head. It didn’t appear he was bleeding that badly. But 64Bit didn’t spend much time focusing on Westley’s injury, instead just commanding his legs to keep moving instead of melting into jelly.
They ran and ran, feet pounding against the ground in an endless rhythm. Fort’s wall slowly grew close as they ran along its side and drew nearer, not quite parallel in their movement.
“Right turn up there—technoboy, hide us,” Kayla said between breaths.
“We’ll be stuck . . . against . . . the wall,” 64Bit gasped.
“Not if they run right past us,” Kayla said. “Hence the need to cloak us before we turn. Plus, we’re almost there.”
Rather than asking where Kayla was taking them, 64Bit commanded his staff to cloak them, stumbling and nearly tripping as he did so. Westley was running on his own now, so he helped 64Bit stabilize and keep moving.
“Stay close . . . Not sure the radius . . . of this effect . . .” 64Bit said.
Staying within an arm’s length, Kayla turned them onto a side road and continued running down the street as fast as her legs could take her. 64Bit did his best to follow, Westley running with long-limbed, loping strides behind him, and tried not to let the rumbling of a riot of rozies behind him break his concentration on the cloaking effect. His small headache from before seemed to be shrinking—64Bit wondered if it had anything to do with his distance from the rozies.
Kayla looked back and pumped a fist in the air but didn’t say anything. 64Bit looked back to follow her gaze and saw the mass of rozies, moving more slowly and with some confusion, continue down the road they were on. Several rozies looked in the direction of 64Bit and his companions and began stumbling that direction, eyes roving over the street as if they weren’t sure what they were seeing.
“Wow! We might—we’re going to live through this!” Westley said.
“Maybe . . . cloaking isn’t as effective . . . when already spotted,” 64Bit muttered to himself, vision focused on the splinter of rozies slowly following them, but also glancing forward as necessary to keep himself from tripping on the messy road. He squinted when he noticed a strange pattern in the main mass of rozies, where they seemed to be running around and over something, then gasped as the trunk emerged from the rozie mass like a fish jumping out of a river. It came to a quick stop, spiderlike legs stabbing into the road and sending chips of asphalt flying, then turned and began striking rozies with its face, clattering its lid, and stomping around with its legs. It didn’t take long before an even larger stream of rozies were diverted from the overall river, stumbling along and looking around with eyes wide and mouths gaping.
“And it’s leading them!” 64Bit exclaimed.
Copyright © 2023 by David Ludlow
Boo Ludlow 