Rogue

15

~Will~

My chest heaves as I readjust the robot that I tossed over my shoulder. The Sick are definitely behind us. I can still hear the loud sounds of gunfire behind me through the ringing in my ears. I keep searching for my comrades, for the Sick, for anyone as the bot hangs limply from my shoulder.

    Is it really a Rogue? Is it  just a Sick spy with a few screws loose?

    I wish I could say that I just ran in and grabbed the first one that I saw, that it was pure coincidence that led me to take responsibility for the same robot that I saw in the woods, but then I would be lying. The truth is, I went in with my mind set on finding it. I had to save it to know the truth of what the heck was happening in the woods a few days ago.

    Behind me, the shots grow louder, and I pick up my pace, almost tripping over plants and branches. The bot grows heavier and heavier, and I have to shift it as it begins to slip. It's hurting the sites of my injuries quite badly, but I grit my teeth and bear it. After another few moments, I make it to the clearing and begin running down our hill, stumbling even more. A time comes where I finally pause, making sure that all is going according to our plan. The younger soldiers, eighteen and under, are the ones making the breaks with the bots, while the older soldiers are leading the Sick away from our recently-discovered safe houses. The shots are growing more distant now, so everything must be alright for the moment.

    The bot shifts ever so slightly. Will it regain consciousness soon? I hope not. I'll definitely be in need of a weapon to keep with me as it is questioned. Though I have one now, it'll be impossible to shoot it without electrocuting myself in the process.

    When no more movement comes, I resume walking, shifting it once more in my arms and making it to the bottom of the hill, coming to the thicker spot of trees. It will definitely take some navigation. It would be especially helpful to make marks in the ground or on some of the trees, but that may alert Sick bots of recent activity here so I don't risk it. 

    Finally, after a few more minutes of trying to figure out where these supposed safe houses are, I finally come in contact with one. 

    The house in front of us is a small, wooden one, blending in with its surroundings. It's slightly run-down, but not too badly. There are small steps up to the door, and I hoist the bot up once more before opening the door with my free hand.

    Inside, there's a small living area and a bedroom, both appearing to have been untouched for decades. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and I make my way around a small table before placing the bot on the couch. It shifts momentarily, groaning before its head drops limply once more. Beside it, I can make out writing on the wall, carved in deeply.

    Elise Minette and Teagan Matthews were here, 2042.

    Slowly, I run my fingers over the indentions. This was the time before the first bot prototypes were even a dream. This was during the time of the rare genetic mutation that caused a single generation to become superhuman. There was still a chance for the righteous, moral people to save as many as they could.

    I wonder what that was like.

    Did these former inhabitants fight for freedom? Or did they want to kill us all, too?

    The bot's stirring causes my train of thought to break, and I turn towards it with a hand on my gun. "One wrong move and I will end you," I mutter through gritted teeth.

    "Where are we?" It squints and its eyebrows knit together slowly, as if it's trying to piece together the dark, unfamiliar surroundings. "What happened to the others?"

    "Unconfirmed."

    "Are we going to stay here or are we going to keep moving?"

    "Undetermined."

    "Are you going to help me out of here or are you going to kill me?" It's almost unnerving how, even though the words should have an emotional tinge to them, the robot's voice has not changed at all, still as unbothered as it was a moment ago.

    "I refuse to share any detail with you." It looks down at the ground, almost as if it wants to ask something else, but I turn away and look around instead.

    This could've been Elliot today.

    He could've been in the line of fire, running without a gun, trying to rescue a small bot, risking his life for this mission that could be potentially worthless in the end.

    The thought fills me with rage, and I begin pacing back and forth across the old hardwood floors, ignoring all of the pain in my body. My blood pressure rises and my brain is filled with racing thoughts about how I need to deal with the General and the way that he keeps throwing Elliot into harm's way.

    "If I may request it, please make my death faster than strangulation." The bot's soft voice makes me jump, and I turn around. It's sitting up now, following me with its eyes as I pace, looking down at my hands. Glancing down at them myself, I realize that I've been clenching and unclenching them.

    "Would you rather me just crush your windpipe with the nearest heavy object?"

    "If you feel it's suitable."

    Taking a step closer, I examine the robot carefully. It stares back at me blankly, and I observe the way that it takes me in. Chills run down my spine, but I manage to keep myself from expressing it outwardly. Having the ability to be this close, but not being able to read the machine in front of me, is nerve-wracking.

    "What are you?" The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, and the bot regards me coolly.

    "Are we not the same, William?"