David Ring III - Stanley Duncan's Robot

Don’t believe the other voices. You must kill Brad tonight.

The words pulled Teddy back to reality, urging him forward. Finally in control, he plunged the knife down with all his might.

Murderous screams pierced through his eardrums and scratched at his heart as he continued to stab. The body shifted, but it was no match for the immense strength of Teddy’s mechanical body. The blade cut through layers of cloth and flesh, impaling itself into the mattress. The sound faded to a gurgled pant. The emotional release was immense. He had done it, tasting the sweet revenge on the man who had—

Brad sat up.

Teddy jolted back, surprised he still had life in him.

“What the fuck!” shouted Brad, ripping the blood-soaked blanket off the bed and revealing another body beneath it. He picked the lifeless body up and howled.

Deep sound waves penetrated Teddy. Calculations raced through his head. Amplified by the Stitch, intense emotions unlike anything he had ever felt before screamed inside of him. For a brief moment, the evil in his own actions shook him to his core. He backed away, gasping at the body on the bed and knocking into a dresser.

Brad woke from his daze and reached for his gun.

Teddy bolted.

Shots rang out, barreling into him.

Pain ripped through Teddy’s body, but he didn’t slow down.

Brad hopped out of bed, took a few wobbly steps forward, and stopped, apparently too drunk to pursue Teddy.

Chills shivered up Teddy’s synthetic spine as he ran full speed down the stairs and out of the house. Brad’s wails followed him down the street and never left.

Amusical greeting played as Evan pushed open the glass doors of the android-run salon. He was pissed off that they had the audacity to think he wanted to use their services. Had it not been Shannon’s favorite place to get her hair done, he would never have gone there to look for her.

Evan’s phone rang. He looked at it, hoping to see Shannon’s smiling face, but it was Brad — a rare event. He answered quickly, his mind focusing because he knew how foreboding this was.

“Officer Michaels is dead.”

“What?” Evan got into his cruiser. The lights from the salon shined on him like a spotlight.

“He was killed by an abomination.”

“Holy mother of God.” The tires screeched as Evan pressed the gas pedal to the floor, sirens wailing. He quickly imagined the abominations closing in on them, slitting their throats as they slept in a massive-scale attack on humanity. If that were the case, he had been too slow. “I’ll be right there.” A few minutes later, he slammed his fist into Brad’s heavy wooden door. It opened immediately.

A canopy of crusty blood had formed across the forest of hairs on Brad’s chest. Weakness rolled down his face.

“Tell me everything.”

Brad stirred, stumbling away from the door and struggling to come up with the right words. “Michaels and I—”

Evan’s phone rang. It was Shannon, but she was going to have to wait. Putting it away, Evan stepped into the living room. A wave of sour vapors hit him hard. It smelled like a dive bar at closing, except rich in fresh blood. Empty beer cans and bottles of whiskey littered the floor. A broken coffee table, split in half, had black mold growing on one side. Fist-sized holes covered the walls. Evan thought, If Brad had a woman in his life who respected him, she would be able to balance him out. “Continue.”

Brad’s face hardened. “We were drinking, talking about the different ways we could eradicate the toasters.”

“My kind of party.”

“Right.” Brad stared off.

“So, what went wrong?”

“Michaels crashed in my spare bedroom. I had just gone to bed when I heard his screams.”

“Cowards! Attacking a man in his sleep.”

Brad held up a finger. “Not a coward, an abomination.”

Evan picked up a bottle of whiskey. After giving it a quick sniff, he poured some down his throat. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. They’ve taken our jobs, and now they’re after our lives.”

“If people had listened, we wouldn’t have had these tin cans in our town. Michaels would still be here.” Brad grabbed the bottle. After pouring the rest of it down his throat, he threw it against the wall. Glass shattered everywhere.

Evan turned his head slightly to avoid an oncoming shard. “But now another good soldier is dead.”

Brad’s voice weakened. “I tried to help him…”

“How’d it go down?”

“I heard screams. I rushed into his room, but it was dark and hard to see what was going on.” Brad shook his head. “There was a figure darting away faster than any human could. I shot at him, but…”

“Did you get a good look at the perp?”

Brad shrugged. “It was dark, and I was drunk and half asleep.”

“You’re always drunk and half asleep.”

“You saying it was my fault?”

Evan ignored him.

Screaming expletives, Brad picked up the couch and threw it into the wall. Evan watched, letting him destroy things until he calmed down. He knew better than to interfere during one of Brad’s rages.

Brad stopped his rampage and stared at a blob of blood on the floor. “Synthetic blood.”

“So, no DNA trail.” Checking hospital records was useless, given how easy it is to fix minor wounds with nanites. They could canvas the area for cameras, but, ultimately, it didn’t matter. Every abomination was responsible. Every abomination was guilty.

Brad put his boot through a wall.

“Had you two been involved in any sort of altercation earlier in the day?”

Brad shook his head. “Do you think it was Duncan’s abomination?”

“Could be. Both you and Michaels were known to him. It wouldn’t surprise me if that traitor was trying to start a war against his own people.”

“We’re not his people.”

“Damn right, we aren’t. Not after what he’s done.”

Sweat-beaded skin folded into waves of fury around Brad’s eyes and across his forehead. The agony pulsating from his face was unmistakable. “I know how important following protocol is, Evan, but this is personal. I want to find this fucker and make him pay.”

“Understood. Nobody messes with us and gets away with it.”

Brad nodded, waiting.

“I will give you your revenge, but it must play out according to our greater mission. Michaels has died, but his death will not be in vain. He was a dedicated officer and would have wanted his death to mean something. We’ll use this misfortune to our advantage, letting the world know that this was an assassination by a treasonous toaster-lover, a man desperate to protect his secrets. The news outlets will be all over it, especially when we leak information that Duncan was behind it all. And when they do their pathetic press release at the high school, we’ll arrest them.”

“Screw them and their press release. Their words are poison. We can’t let them speak.”

“Nobody will believe anything they say after we pin this murder on them. Their arrest will be covered across the country.”

“That’s not enough,” said Brad. “I want to see them suffer. I want to see his skull crushed in, hear him scream for help, and watch the fear in his eyes knowing that nobody is coming to save him.”

“He’ll get what he deserves in prison. I’ll make sure he doesn’t survive the first week.”

Brad shook his head.

“Where’s the body?”

Brad led him to the bathroom, motioning for Evan to enter. Inside the tub, Michaels lay naked down to his crimson underwear. A smoky aroma filled the room. Unlit candles lined the counter as if they had been extinguished as an afterthought.