Children of the War

Part 3

Father and Nathaniel carried Walter away.

Jocelyn followed, her rifle at the ready.

The world seemed distant, echoed.

His vision darkened, breath wheezing through the filters.

Mother and her team ran to him, their own faces obscured behind the garish masks.

Father and Nathaniel helped him to sit with his back against one of the transports, left leg extended, and Mother and the other medics inspected it.

"Something's coming," Jocelyn shouted.

Father and Nathaniel raced to her side, weapons at the ready, focusing on an area just ahead in the trees.

Mother gasped when she saw his injury, and he got a look at it himself.

The mortar had struck him worse than he thought. A chunk of shrapnel was lodged deep into his thigh. Sticky red tracks of blood spidered across his pale skin, muscle visible through the tattered flesh surrounding.

One of the medics twisted a tourniquet, and agony contorted his entire body. His own cry sounded distant.

The medics stood suddenly, surrounding him.

Mother drew her pistol.

Something moved around them. It shone in the sunlight, a segmented, chromed form snaking through the trees, too swiftly to catch a glimpse.

"Take cover," Father yelled, loading his rifle with one of the bullets from Stonecipher.

Jocelyn and Nathaniel did the same.

Walter tried to get up, to join them. His muscles strained as he forced himself to his good leg, one hand against the transport. He looked about for anything that would serve as a weapon.

The medics tried to force him back down, but he pushed them aside, out of his way.

He'd only heard stories about this kind of robot. It was an assassin model, set loose during the Kaezer's attacks to seek and destroy any weak or concealed targets. Something like a large, yet elusive millipede, it had many fibrous legs, sweeping across all terrain at deadly speed.

He spotted his rifle on the ground, and nearly blacked out as he retrieved it. Struggling one-handed, he loaded it with another deactivation bullet from his belt. This one was single target, with a higher charge, designed for the larger and more durable types of robots.

He held the butt of the rifle under one arm, and leaned against the transport.

Trembling. Couldn't stop. But he managed to take aim, and steeled himself for the attack.

The robot streaked out of the trees, like a flash of death across the ground. The edges of its sinuous form were trimmed with slicing blades.

He heard the others shoot, and they caught it in their webs.

But only for a moment. The segments of the thrashing, metallic body broke apart, leaving the disabled parts behind. It scurried away, into the trees, and looped around. Within seconds, all of the crawling pieces reformed into one. Then it rose upon its slender frame, like a viper about to strike.

That pivotal moment, when it paused, was Walter's. He fired the specialized bullet and struck the machine in its optical pane, of all the lucky shots he could wish for.

The sizzled reek of overheated circuitry cloistered.

He stumbled, and nearly lost balance, but he grinned. It seemed everything was safe.