The leg moved suddenly, and Laura jumped back. From a few feet away she watched as the leg rose into the air in a slow and graceless arc. Its progress was chronicled in a series of still images shot by the headlights' strobes. The leg pressed down against the ground and rocked the dismembered mechanical body pathetically onto one side.
It was a Model Seven — only one of its four legs still attached.
Its 'head' stared up at Laura. She walked over to it and knelt, laying her hand on its smooth metal panels. It was twisted and mangled and rent with great gaping wounds. Cables dangled loose. Precious liquids dripped onto the soil with hisses and bursts of smoke from where they landed.
The robot's long leg began to move again. This time it rose into the air above Laura. She kept her eye on the spider's limb, which slowly descended toward her. She caught only snapshots of the leg's descent in the flashes of light from her car, and there were too many gaps in the illumination for her to feel secure about the aim of the leg. But somehow Laura wasn't frightened. Its motions were too slow, too weak.
The wheel at the end of the leg was inserted into the tool belt the robot wore at its waist. When the leg came out it was bare.
The robot plugged it into another slot and pulled out a three-fingered hand.
The overturned Model Three's faulty lights blinked on and off and on again. Three short blinks, followed by three long, followed by three more short.
The Model Seven hand wobbled and shook at maximum extension as it groped for a panel on its body. The increasingly spastic robot succeeded finally in opening the door to a compartment.
Inside she saw a thick sliding switch. The robot's fingers jerked spasmodically — the switch just out of their reach. Laura leaned close.
The words 'Main Power' were written in red. A single large exclamation point was clearly visible in a black triangle just underneath. Threaded through the switch was a thin wire for security against it being thrown inadvertently.
The robot convulsed — its arm thrashing not dangerously but dismally through the air just over her head. Laura reached up into the box and grabbed the switch, pulling down as hard as she could.
With a pop the resistance gave way. The robot's limb collapsed to the ground beside her, and the mortally wounded robot fell still.
The lights of the car shone steadily now, forcing Laura to squint as she turned to look at them. After a moment they went dark, and a faint electric motor in the car wound down. All was now still on the narrow pathway between the curb and the jungle wall.
The thick, dark growth seemed to close in from all sides.
Laura eyed the empty road in both directions, a rising tide of fear quickening her heart rate. Grabbing her suitcase, she began a brisk walk toward the Village, her head turning from side to side and to the rear in a constant search for danger. The black edge of the jungle formed a solid wall, and it lay not ten feet from the sides of the pavement.
There was movement under the lights on the road ahead. Laura could see people at the outskirts of the Village. She started to yell, but decided they were still too far away to hear her. She began to jog — afraid they would be gone before she caught up with them.
The contents of her suitcase shook noisily with each stride she took down the hill.
A blur of movement from the side preceded a jarring blow to Laura's body that knocked her to the grass beside the road. She looked up at the rounded metal head and single unblinking eye and screamed.
A hand went over her mouth. 'Jesus Christ, lady!' a man whispered. 'Quiet! There's robots up ahead!' You could hear the fear in his voice. After a moment, he let his hand off her mouth and got off her.
He wore a military-style helmet and night-vision goggles with a single wide lens in front. The Cyclops-like eye was pointed down the hill toward the Village. 'Who are you?'
'U.S. Navy. Come on.'
She followed the man into the jungle. Other soldiers were waiting there. 'Two in the jungle on the right,' someone whispered, the words not meant for Laura, 'one in the clearing, the fourth one in the town. Looks like they're searching for something!'
'In the town?' Laura asked. 'The Village? There are robots in the Village?'
'Who the hell are you?' came a voice whispered from the darkness.
'Laura Aldridge. Dr. Laura Aldridge.'
'Can you take care of my man?' the soldier asked.
'Does he have psychological problems?'
'What?'
'I'm a psychologist.'
There was a sickly moan from the darkness.
'What's the matter with him?' Laura asked.
'He almost got torn apart by one of those goddamn robots.'
'A robot hurt him?' There was a pause.
'Where the hell have you been, lady?'
'They're all in the jungle now,' came the steady monotone of the watchful soldier. 'All right, let's head on back to the beach.'
Laura felt a hand on her arm. 'What? I'm not going with you.'
'Lady, there are robots roamin' all over this—' There was a distant boom, and a sound like firecrackers ripped through the night just after. Then came another explosion and another and another.
'Come on, let's go!'
The soldiers tried [missing] out of the jungle and turned toward the airport. Laura yanked her arm free and took off running toward the Village, abandoning her suitcase by the road.
'Hey!' she heard from behind, followed by the sound of a man running after her. Laura sprinted down the hill as fast as her feet would carry her. 'Chief! Break it off!' someone else shouted.
After a moment, Laura glanced back over her shoulder. She was all alone, and she slowed her pace to a walk.
The night had fallen quiet again. The fighting had died down.
It had come from somewhere behind the mountain — from the empty quarter.
The streets of the Village were just ahead. There were no robots to be seen.
Something stirred in the brush to her left. There was another sound — very deliberate, like an animal preparing to strike. Laura felt panic set in. She began to jog again, staring into the black jungle over her left shoulder and counting down the steps until she made it to the relative safety of the streetlamps.
She turned to see a Model Eight blocking her way into the Village.
She stopped dead in her tracks. The monstrously large robot stood framed by the streetlamps forty or so yards away. He remained completely motionless, but he was holding something in his right hand.
Laura felt her every move counted. The robots were at war. They'd be jumpy. Terrified. Angry. They'd be in a killing mood.
As methodically as she could manage, Laura raised her open right hand. It was an international gesture of peace and greeting — showing a stranger that she was unarmed.
A brilliant white light burst from the robot's right hand, crackling with violent heat. The robot headed straight up the hill toward her, breaking into what for it had to be a run. It raised the welding torch that it held into the air.
Laura was blinded now with panic. She turned to flee up the hill but froze. Against a sky that glowed from the airport lights, she could see another Model Eight coming down the hill right behind her.
She was trapped, and the terror gripped her completely.
Without thinking she dashed straight into the thick jungle beside the road, throwing herself against the clinging brush in utter desperation. She fought her way deeper and deeper, the branches scratching at her arms and neck and face.
