Written by Brandon.
Ash fell from the sky. Robert wiped his goggles with his gloved hand and continued digging through the scrap pile. Around him, a lifeless New York City groaned in the distance like an animal hurting from its wounds. 70 years after the Doomsday Battle, which turned Earth into a desert wasteland, the remaining spores of humanity migrated underground in groups no more than fifty people.
Once again, his tracking device beeped, confirming there was something buried in the concrete and steel. Robert was glad to have found a trace of something useful. The last few hours were spent scouring the land for supplies with no success. But whatever was under the rubble had survived the Doomsday Battle and lay trapped for decades, so it was worth digging up.
The air grew colder with the setting sun and every breath felt like daggers piercing his lungs. Robert's arms strained under the weight of the concrete block he was lifting. He ran out of food hours ago and had to return to the village soon or collapse from fatigue, but he couldn't return empty-handed. With the last ounce of his strength, he overturned the block and pitched his body forward, resting on his knees. With the Sun's fading light, he squinted to make out what lay in the hole.
It looked vaguely humanoid and was completely spotless until ash fell on its smooth surface. Its metallic face looked peaceful as it slept. A robot.
Robert reached down eagerly to pull it out, not noticing the trip wire in front of him. There was a small clink followed by a flash of light as the wire fell away. Every muscle in Robert's body froze in fear. The robot's joints started convulsing and it opened its eyes. An explosion sent Robert flying backward along with the rubble.
He landed on his back hard and curled into a ball to avoid the flying debris. Standing atop the rubble pile, the robot stared straight at Robert, unflinching and emotionless. Robert backed away and reached into his pocket for his revolver. Bullets were endangered these days, but the threat of death superseded that. Amidst all that, however, something bright red lay on the ground just a few feet in front of him.
His right arm lay dead on the ground between him and the robot. He screamed at the top of his lungs just as the robot took a step towards him. He tried not to focus on the pain and grabbed the gun with his other hand and aimed it at the robot. There were fifty steps between them. If the robot attacked him again, he would surely die.
Aiming for the head, he squeezed the trigger hard and the shot went wide. Only five more shots left. If he could land a hit on the head, it would disable the robot. The pain and blood loss from his right shoulder made him almost pass out, but he gritted his teeth and took aim again.
Only thirty steps away. Robert fired two more shots which hit the robot's body without slowing it down. His breathing was ragged, and he could no longer move his legs. The robot's silhouette grew larger as it reached out with its skeletal hand. With a final shout, Robert fired the rest of the bullets and hoped that one found its mark. Sparks flew and he closed his eyes despite wearing goggles.
Then, the metallic body of the robot fell on Robert, crushing him under its weight as he passed out.
Two hours later, Robert awoke in the darkness. His clothes were wet with blood and the ash was piled up to his face. Looking down, he saw that one of the shots hit the robot's eye, disabling it. Relieved, he threw down his belongings and slipped under the robot, walking back to his village.
The sun was nowhere to be seen and only the moon provided illumination in the night. Robert didn't carry a flashlight and could barely make out his surroundings. He clutched his right shoulder to slow the bleeding, but blood still seeped through his fingers. The temperature had dropped below freezing and combined with his blood loss, Robert knew he wouldn't make it back to the village.
Falling face-first into the asphalt, Robert grew still, allowing the ash to pile on top of him.
