Alex Scarrow - Time Riders

He kicked in the nearest door and pushed his way into the dark interior, his eyes adjustinginstantly to the gloom inside.

[Scanning]

None of the pale and frightened faces within were that of his missionoperative.

‘Have… h-have you come to f-free us?’ a frail voice cried out from amongthe shivering cluster of prisoners.

Bob cocked his head thoughtfully. ‘Negative.’

‘P-please… h-help us. Help us.’

[Tactical assessment]

Bob could see that the confusion of escaping prisoners would help him rather than hinder him.Standing out there alone, if he attracted too much fire, took too many hits, his geneticallyenhanced body would struggle to repair the damage done. Even though he was an artificial human, he was still just blood, bones and organs. It was abody that could be killed.

With hundreds of people fleeing in all directions, the guards would be confused; their firewould be divided, turned on the fleeing prisoners as well as him.

Bob looked down at them. ‘You are free to leave,’ he uttered in a monotonevoice.

Fifty-four huts. Bob proceeded to each one in turn, ushering out those brave enough to make arun for the flattened section of perimeter fencing. His eyes quickly and systematicallyscanned the faces of the prisoners huddled inside.

Outside, the camp courtyard was thick with chaos. People scrambling towards the downed fence,the snow scuffed and flattened with footprints and stained pink with blood. The air was fullof screams and crying, the percussive rattle of shots gunning prisoners down, barked orders,vengeful shouts.

He observed half a dozen guards, taken by surprise, overrun, beaten and then shot as theypleaded for mercy. Bob, himself, had casually tallied thirty-six kills by his own hand, anumber that would be taken into account when his silicon mind later evaluated his missionperformance.

As he followed the fleeing crowd of people out of the camp, his eyesmomentarily logging each face and coming up with a negative, a small, lean man jogged acrossthe snow to join him.

‘Hey, you!’

Bob turned to look at him.

‘Yeah, you, big guy!’

A gun rattled in the distance and several rounds zipped by his head. Bob swung his carbineround, levelled the weapon and fired a short burst in one swift reactive movement. Fifty yardsaway, a guard doubled over amid several puffs of crimson.

The small man’s jaw dropped open, revealing a mouthful of tobacco-yellow teeth.

‘Jeeeez, man… now that… that was some shot!’

Bob continued quickly striding towards the downed fence. ‘Information: the standardaccuracy of this firearm is effective at up to one hundred yards,’ he explainedcrisply.

The man shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, sure… but you just kinda swung that thing upan’ just fired without even aiming — ’

‘This tactical situation is hazardous. Reinforcements will be deployed heresoon,’ Bob announced, stepping across the twisted and crumpled remains of the chain-linkfence. ‘You must leave the vicinity immediately.’

‘No kidding,’ replied the man. ‘Those guys are going to be mighty annoyedwhen they arrive. I sure ain’t stickin’ around for that!’

Bob was already over the fence and jogging across the snowy field beyond. The small mancaught up with him again, panting already as he struggled to keep pace with him.

‘Hey! My name’s Panelli. Raymond Panelli,’ he gasped. ‘But I let myfriends call me Ray, ’cause it’s… Ow!’ He stumbled on a rock buriedbeneath the snow, cursing as he hopped and cradled his foot for a momentbefore struggling to catch up again with Bob.

‘So… so, what about you?’ he wheezed. ‘What’s yourname?’

‘My name is Bob.’

‘Bob?… Bob? That it?’

They jogged in silence across the field for a while, heading towards the cover of a treeline.Panelli was rasping like an asthmatic old man beside him.

‘So, Bob?’

Bob continued in silence. Eyes scanning the faces of other prisoners streaming across thesnowy field. Inside his skull, the computer was busy assessing his mission’s performancescore, evaluating the tactical situation. Meanwhile his body was already hard at work dealingwith five gunshot wounds sustained during the raid, congealing the blood around the wounds,white blood cells already coalescing to combat any infection.

‘Hey, Bob!’

The small man running beside him was becoming a useless distraction. Bob turned to look downat him. ‘What do you want?’

‘Uh… mind if I sort of… team up with you for now? You kicked some butt backthere, I mean really stuck it to them guys. It was justamazing.’ Panelli shrugged. ‘So, I figure you’re a good guy to have as afriend.’

Bob evaluated the small man. He could provide assistance in some way.

‘As you wish,’ he replied flatly.

2001, New York

Thursday/Friday? (I don’t know)

Three days now. I think it’s three — it’s hard to tell. Thetins of food in the cupboard are running out and we’ll be going hungry soon.

Foster and Maddy went out there a few times looking for supplies. They’ve not foundanything so far, just ruins and bones.

And those creatures outside. We now know they’re cannibals.

Foster found the leftovers of one of their own kind, half eaten… and nearby the bonesof loads of others. Those things seem to exist in small tribes, feeding off each other. WhenI think now how close I came to being taken… That creature running its hand through myhair must’ve been sizing me up! Working out if I could be eaten.

I don’t want to die like that. I’d rather anything else. I keep expecting tohear them at any moment outside the garage door, scratching at it, trying to find a wayin.

I’ve never been so jahully-chuddah scared in my life.

‘I… I don’t want to go out there again,’ whispered Sal.‘Never. Never again.’

Foster could see the terror in the poor girl’s eyes by the gutteringglow of the candle on the table between them. The rest of the arch was lost in thedarkness.

‘We have to,’ he said firmly.

‘But… but, those things…’

Those things had once been human beings. But something had happened. He suspected some sortof a nuclear war. There was plenty of blast damage, scorched walls and debris suggesting amoment of intense heat. Decades of radiation sickness would account for their pitifulcondition, anaemic complexion, the running sores, toothless mouths.

‘Foster’s right,’ said Maddy. ‘We can’t hide in hereforever.’

‘But… they… those things are… cannibals. ’

‘Yes, we know exactly what they are,’ Maddy snapped.

‘Perhaps we might be able to communicate with them,’ said Foster. ‘If somesort of nuclear war happened in 1956 and we’re in 2001, then those creatures will be the grandchildren of the few that survived. Post-apocalypse childrenwho’ve only ever known ruins and rubble. It’s possible the eldest of them mightjust remember some language.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ said Maddy. ‘They dribble, they don’ttalk. They see us as a free-range meal.’

Perhaps she’s right. Those things would probably kill thembefore he could find a way to communicate with them.

He sighed. ‘All right, well… we’ve wasted enough time. I was hoping anothertime ripple would arrive, perhaps one that would improve our situation. But it looks like thisis what we’re stuck with. So we’ve no choice. We need to find some way to generatepower. Enough to reboot our computer system… and enough, if we can, to open a window andpull back Liam and Bob.’

Maddy frowned. ‘Sounds like we’re gonna need a lot of power.’