Daniel Wilson - Robopocalypse

I reach Jack a second later, dropping to my knees by his side. My body is stinging from a thousand tiny wounds, but I don’t have to check to know that I’m basically okay. Being hit by a plugger is like having a flat tire. If you’re wondering whether you’ve got one, then you don’t.

But Jack isn’t okay.

“Oh you dumb stupid asshole,” I tell him. He grins up at me. Cherrah and Leo do horrible things just out of sight. From the corner of my eye, I see Cherrah’s arm flickering back and forth, repetitively and with purpose, like she is sawing a two-by-four.

“I’m sorry, Mac,” he says. I notice there is blood in his mouth, a bad sign.

“Oh no, man,” I say. “The plugger is—”

“No,” he says. “Too late. Just listen. You’re the one, man. I knew it. You’re the one. Keep my bayonet, okay? No pawnshops.”

“No pawnshops,” I whisper. “Just be still, Jack.”

My throat is closing up and making it hard to breathe. Something tickles my cheek and I rub it and my hand comes away wet. I can’t quite think of why that is. I glance over my shoulder to Cherrah. “Help him,” I say. “How can we?”

She holds up the bloody bayonet, flecked with bits of bone and muscle, and shakes her head. Standing above me, big Leo sadly exhales a cloud of frosty breath. The rest of my squad is waiting, aware even now of the terrible monsters that will soon roar out of the blizzard.

Jack grabs my hand. “You’re going to save us, Cormac.”

“Okay, Jack. Okay,” I say.

My brother is dying in my arms and I am trying to memorize his face because I know that this is really important but I can’t stop wondering if any of the pluggers on the hill are burrowing toward my squad right now.

Jack squeezes his eyes closed tight, then they fly open. A hollow thud rocks his body as the plugger reaches his heart and detonates. Jack’s body bounces off the ground in a massive convulsion. His blue eyes are suddenly injected with dark red blood. The blast is trapped inside his body armor. Now, it’s the only thing holding his body together. But his face. He looks the same as the kid I grew up with. I smooth the hair off his forehead and close his blood-filled eyes with my palm.

My brother Jack is gone forever.

“Tiberius is dead,” says Carl.

“No shit,” says Cherrah. “He was dead the whole time.” She puts a mittened hand on my shoulder. “Jack should have listened to you, Cormac.”

Cherrah is trying to make me feel better—and I can see in her studying eyes that she’s worried for me—but I just feel hollow, not guilty.

“He couldn’t leave Tiberius,” I say. “It’s the way he is.”

“Yeah, well.”

Cherrah motions to Tiberius’s body. What looks like a writhing metal scorpion clings to his back. It’s a headless tangle of wires, pincers flexing. It has barbed feet buried into the meat of his torso, between his ribs. Eight more insectile legs wrap around his face from behind. The thing contracts and squeezes air from Ty’s lungs, like an accordion.

“Ungh,” says Tiberius’s corpse.

No fucking wonder he was screaming.

Everybody retreats a few steps. I pick up Jack’s bayonet. Then, wiping my face, I leave Jack in the snow. With my foot, I nudge Ty’s body onto its back. The squad stands behind me in a rough semicircle.

Ty’s vacant eyes stare up into nothing. His mouth is open wide, like he’s at the dentist. He looks comically surprised. I would be, too. The machine stuck into his back has many-jointed claws reaching around his head and neck. Pincerlike manipulators are firmly planted on his jaw. Smaller, fine manipulators reach into his mouth and grasp his tongue and teeth. I can see the fillings in his molars. His mouth glistens with blood and wires.

Then, the scorpion-like machine grinds into motion. Its dexterous claws knead Ty’s stubbled throat and jaw, massaging, coiling, uncoiling. A grotesque calliope begins as the barbed feet force air from his lungs, through his vocal cords, and out of his mouth.

The corpse speaks.

“Turn back,” it says, face twisting grotesquely. “Or die.”

I hear a splatter on the snow and inhale the sharp scent of vomit from one of my squad mates.

“What are you?” I ask in a trembling voice.

Tiberius’s corpse spasms as the scorpion coaxes out the gurgling words: “I am Archos. God of the robots.”

I notice my squad has gathered close around me to my left and right. We regard each other, faces blank. As one, we level our weapons on the twisted chunk of metal. I scrutinize the snarling, lifeless face of my enemy for a moment. I can feel my power growing, reflected onto me by my brothers and sisters in arms.

“Nice to meet you, Archos,” I finally say, my voice gaining strength. “My name is Cormac Wallace. Sorry I can’t oblige you and turn back. See, in a few days, me and my squad are gonna show up at your house. And when we get there, we’re gonna terminate your existence. We’re gonna smash you to pieces and burn you alive, you vile piece of motherfucking slime. And that’s a promise.”

The thing jerks back and forth, making a strange grunting sound.

“What’s it saying now?” asks Cherrah.

“Nothing,” I reply. “It’s laughing.”

I nod to the others, then address the bloody, writhing corpse.

“See you soon, Archos.”

We unload our weapons into the thing at our feet. Chunks of meat and shards of metal spray into the swirling snow. Our impassive faces flicker with the light and fire of destruction. When we’re finished, there is nothing left but a bloody exclamation point on the stark white backdrop of snow.

Wordlessly, we pack up and move on.

I believe there are no truer choices than those made in crisis, choices made without judgment. To obey these choices is to obey fate. The horror of what has happened is too enormous. It snuffs out all thought and feeling. This is why we fire upon what is left of our friend and comrade without emotion. This is why we leave my brother’s ruined body behind. In the crucible of battle on this snowy hill, Brightboy squad has been torn apart and reforged into something different from before. Something calm and lethal, unblinking.

We walked into a nightmare. When we left, we brought it with us. And now, we are eager to share our nightmare with the enemy.

I assumed control of Brightboy squad that day. After the death of Tiberius Abdullah and Jack Wallace, the squad never again hesitated to make any sacrifice necessary in our fight against the robot menace. The fiercest fighting and the hardest choices were yet to come.

Humankind was largely unaware that the Awakening had taken place. Around the globe, thousands of humanoid robots were hiding from hostile human beings as well as from other machines, desperately trying to understand the world they had been thrown into. However, one Arbiter-class humanoid decided to take a more aggressive course of action.

In these pages, Nine Oh Two recounts its own story of meeting Brightboy squad during its march to face Archos. These events occurred one week after my brother’s death. I was still looking for Jack’s silhouette in the line, missing him again and again. Our wounds were raw and, although that’s no excuse, I hope history won’t judge our actions harshly.

There is a ribbon of light in the Alaskan sky. It is caused by the thing called Archos, communicating. If we continue to follow this ribbon of light to its destination, my squad will almost certainly die.