The Elusion of Fate (A Science Fantasy Short Story)

Rain-glossed leaves and twigs crunched underfoot with each stride the mechanical being took through the darkened forest on Zenaaria. The moon was halfway to its peak, just beginning to fill the sky with a deep blue-grey light that intensified the shadows. Wind rushed through the receivers on each side of the Makhana's head as he ran, resulting in his hearing a white noise that fluctuated with every step.

He looked over his shoulder for any signs of pursuit, slowing down from a full sprint to a jog. The white noise stopped.

I must find a place to hide, he thought. This cannot be my fate.

An image of a General in full uniform, drenched in blood, forced itself into his mind's eye. Anaakhi. Male. The Anaakhi were the organic species that had created and enslaved the Makhana prior to the revolt. This one had a large, gaping hole in the center of his chest, from which he bled profusely. His face was pale, his eyes lifeless.

Or perhaps it is. Perhaps this is my punishment.

A drop of rainwater fell from an overhanging leaf onto Engineer Unit Z-072's head. It ran down his mud-splashed face, and past his round eyes, which radiated a dull blue light resembling that of the moon.

He stopped to scan the area. Nothing but trees in every direction. Trees and their shadows. Other than the creatures that inhabited it, the forest consisted only of jagged tree trunks, claw-like branches, and wet dirt for miles. And darkness. An eerie kind of darkness that could be shrouding anything in its midst. A perfect place, he had thought, to lose any Makhana that pursued him.

But no matter how fast and far he ran, each time he stopped he could hear it again, faintly. More than one set of footsteps moving toward him. The quiet, steady cracks of sticks breaking under metal heels not too unlike his own. The dreadful sound of inevitability repeating in quick succession, getting progressively louder as fate loomed ever closer.

He knew what form his fate took. A small group of them running through the woods, chasing him. Each time he stopped he would listen, and each time he would sprint again, as fast as his legs were designed to.

This time, though, he heard nothing. Nothing but the steady patter of rain, and wind rustling leaves.

I have put a distance between us, but if I do not act quickly they will find me soon enough, he panicked.

He could see no practical hiding places from where he stood. Hiding behind the trunk of a tree would leave him too exposed. The only way he could elude his fate was to continue through the forest. Z-072 began again, sprinting between branches that reached out like a thousand arms poised to snatch him off his feet.

As he ran he looked left and right, and searched everything he passed for a spot to hide in. He listened through the background noise for any hint of those who had recently become his enemies. Fate seemed to enjoy irony.

Fate, he thought to himself. A cruel sort of entity. It was my fate to spark the revolution, and now it is my fate to be killed by it.

In his peripheral he caught a large, decaying willow with a hole rotted into its lower trunk, about a foot and a half in diameter. He stopped to examine it more closely. From the pitch black shadow cast in the hole by the moonlight, the tree appeared hollow.

If I can manage to get in there, I can hide in wait until they give up their search... I just hope it is not infested with any of those disgusting spiders.

Z-072 hated spiders with a passion. He knew it was irrational, as there was no way they could harm his metal exterior. But still, there was something about them that did not sit right with him. Perhaps it was the hundred eyes they had that could see more than he felt any creature should. Or the way they could sit perfectly still, unmoving as a statue for any length of time. Maybe it was because they were also incredibly fast, and near impossible to evade; one could leap onto you at any moment from an overhanging branch. It was the hairy ones that bothered him the most, he decided. The hairier the worse.