Jeremy Robinson - SecondWorld

“Down!” he shouted as he dove to the pavement and slid beneath a truck. Vesely dove beneath the truck with him. Miller searched the area for any small red lights and found Pale Horse beneath a vehicle two rows over.

A loud pulsating electric hum filled the air. It sounded like the Beehive, but crackled with energy. The hum grew louder, passing above them.

“Is Bell,” Vesely whispered, pointing up.

The thing was airborne.

Movement to the side caught Miller’s attention. He turned as Pale Horse rolled from one car to the next. The hum grew louder for a moment and then the two miniguns opened up on the pavement where Pale Horse had just been.

“Don’t move!” Miller said.

While the little robo-bombs seemed to be attracted to body heat, zeroing in on the source before exploding, whatever patrolled the air above them responded to motion.

While the thing wouldn’t climb under the cars looking for them, they couldn’t move.

Unless, Miller thought, it can’t see us.

The air was already thick with red flakes and smoke from a number of burning vehicles, but the wind was blowing in the wrong direction. What they needed was a fire in the other direction.

Miller shifted back toward the alley.

“Survivor,” Vesely whispered loudly. “What are you doing?”

But Miller didn’t respond. The hum was off to the side and Miller didn’t think the thing would have a good line of sight. At the edge of the vehicle, he peeked out and glanced at the now red sky. Nothing. He rolled out from beneath the truck, grabbed the robo-bomb, and rolled back. The maneuver took just two seconds, but had somehow attracted the sentinel’s attention. It hummed loudly as it closed in.

Miller moved back under the truck and slid up next to Vesely. “I’m going to take this a few cars down and—”

“Give to me,” Vesely said, reaching for the robot. “I build things. Electronics. Will start motor.”

Miller let him take the device. The Cowboy seemed to understand his plan.

Using a knife, Vesely removed four screws from the bottom of the robot. He removed the black cover from the outer ring. The internal design was fairly straightforward, like an oddly shaped remote-control car. “Still functional,” Vesely said. “Just lacks input to tell it ‘move forward.’”

Vesely found the throttle and pushed it forward. The little wheels spun quickly as the engine whirred. He pushed the throttle all the way forward and pinned it in place using one of the free screws. The two men lay side by side, looking down a line of cars that stretched a hundred feet. Vesely lined the robo-bomb up as straight as possible.

Miller rolled to the back side of the truck. “Go!”

Vesely let the robot go and it zipped away, moving quickly beneath the line of cars. The hum grew louder as the hovering sentinel tracked the robo-bomb’s movement.

Miller rolled out from beneath the truck and got his first look at what was firing the miniguns. The black, vaguely bell-shaped craft hovered thirty feet above the parking lot. A bright light glowed at the bottom, flickering in time with the loud crackles. A minigun had been attached to either side. Miller was happy to see the weapons tracking the robo-bomb as it appeared and disappeared between each car it passed.

The guns opened fire, tearing into the line of cars as it chased the fast-moving robot.

Miller ran the other way.

Behind him, Miller heard what sounded like a war. The guns never stopped firing. Spent shell casings rained down from the craft, rattling against pavement and metal. There was a loud whuff as one, or more, of the vehicles ignited. And then, there was an explosion. Miller recognized the sound as the robo-bomb detonating. The sentinel had destroyed one of its own.

Miller stopped, bent down, grabbed what he needed, and sprinted back the way he came. The chaos that greeted him was far better than he’d hoped for. At least four cars were on fire and billowing thick black smoke into the air—smoke that was being pulled in his direction. In fact, his plan had worked so well that he could no longer see the minigun-wielding Bell. But he could hear it, hovering in the smoke, no doubt trying to make sense of its surroundings.

Miller reached the spot where Vesely lay hiding and continued past.

Smoke rolled over him and he held his breath. The hot grime stung his eyes, which began to tear. But he kept searching the haze for his enemy. He found the dull glow moving toward him just a moment later. He stopped, took aim at the light, and waited.

A gust of wind cleared the air around the Bell and Miller tossed his explosive payload like a discus player. The sightless, but still explosive robo-bomb sailed through the air.

Off target.

But Miller didn’t need to strike the hovering Bell, he only needed it to see the robot. A moment later it did. As the disk-shaped bomb closed to within ten feet of the Bell, both miniguns opened fire.

Miller dove beneath a car.

The bomb exploded, sending a wave of hot air over Miller.

But there was no secondary explosion. Or the sound of the Bell falling from the sky. Just the hum of the thing. But the hum was different. Instead of pulsating, it was now intermittent. The sound began to fade.

Miller came out from hiding and watched the wounded machine come down at an angle. The bright light at its base flickered. Every time the light went out, the device lost altitude. A loud crash rolled over the parking lot as the Bell slammed into, and through, the front of the NSSB. Glass shattered and exploded inward.

Vesely and Pale Horse ran up to Miller.

“Holy geez,” Pale Horse said. “What the hell was that?”

“Is Bell,” Vesely said.

“Long story,” Miller added, and ran toward the building. He wanted to be inside before any other automated security joined the party. They reached the ruined front end of the building. There was a wide hole where the Bell crashed through. “Open sesame,” Miller said, and stepped inside.

The trio entered the large, open lobby one at a time, weapons at the ready. Only Miller had training with breaching and clearing a building, but Vesely and Pale Horse had apparently seen enough movies to be competent. Or they were just following Miller’s lead as he swept his weapon back and forth, looking for targets. Convinced they were alone for the moment, Miller said, “Clear,” and relaxed his stance.

The place looked like a tornado had moved through. The once chic lobby, decorated with tall, living plants and modern art sculptures, was coated in a layer of human detritus. Food wrappers, empty bottles, strewn papers, lost luggage, even a tipped-over moped. Not to mention a smoldering Bell. Miller steered clear of the Bell and worked his way toward the back of the lobby.

“Now what?” Vesely asked.

“Now,” Miller said, pointing to a trail of trash leading down a hallway, “we follow the bread crumbs.”

The trail of debris led to a now-abandoned security check point—metal detectors for people and luggage. A second security station held rows of computer monitors connected to what looked like rows of miniature centrifuges. There were several large red trash bins marked with biohazard symbols. Each and every one was overfull with used needles. “What the hell?” Miller whispered.

Vesely pointed to the centrifuges. “DNA testing. For purity.”

“Unbelievable,” Miller said before moving on.

The floor behind the security checks had been torn up. Shattered wood and ripped-up linoleum tiles sat stacked beyond the hole. Miller slid between the metal detectors in case they were still active, and approached the hole. A staircase shot straight down several stories.

“They’ve been walking right over it for years,” Pale Horse said. “Where does it go?”