“Fuck if I know, Roche.”
I remembered that it was Toby I was speaking to, not Allen, and shook my head before scrutinizing the dead machine to make sure it was the same one. After the third inspection, after I’d opened and closed its empty head over and over, I concluded it was indeed Rudi. But what was it that I was missing?
“Get this one in the trunk. And you can see that it’s empty, right?”
“It’s empty, Roche, I agree with you. Stop being so fucking paranoid …” Toby kept grumbling as it pulled the shell up the incline toward my car. By now all of Toby’s body up to the waist and its arms up to its elbows were caked in mud.
I looked over at the rest of the machines and guessed that there were dozens more still in the swamp. Every single one was headless, and I was willing to bet they could be traced to each Automatic incident in the past few months. Robins was going to call this a gold mine when I got it to him.
The marsh began to bubble behind me, the muck frothing as something moved below the surface. Toby was far and away, so I’d have to get my hands dirty for the first time all day. I switched my weapon to double-action, rolled up my sleeve, and reached into the liquid, feeling for the metal husk that was waiting for me.
It was waiting for me, all right. A metal arm reached out, grasped my forearm, and pulled, trying to drag me down into the mud. Its grip was strong, but I was stronger. With both feet planted on the ground, I yanked my arm from its grasp and stumbled back, readying my weapon. The shell emerged from the black water, red eyes glowing, both legs intact, but with only one and a half arms. I took no chances and pulled the trigger. A heated .38 round pierced its skull — the pill-shaped metalhead puffed out as the bullet passed through. I expected the shell to drop after that. It did not.
The now truly headless husk stumbled forward, reaching out with a metal claw, trying to pull me into its grave. I fired a second round into its chest. The bullet struck the Tesla Battery, which emitted a high-pitched shriek as the casing cracked. I began to run away from the machine through the murky water. At what I thought was a safe distance, I glanced back to see the husk incinerated in a bright flash. I felt my heart leap from my chest.
Reaching the shore helped me to calm my nerves. But my anxiety peaked once more when I heard metal clanking and servos spinning. The long-dead husks piled around me stirred and turned to face me. I turned and ran up the incline, screaming for Toby as more figures emerged from the black water.
“What do you want now?” Toby said, sauntering to the edge. Upon seeing the moving shells, it went rigid. “Roche, what the fuck!”
“Glove compartment! Spare pistol!”
An arm grasped my ankle as I tried to climb the incline. I looked back to see that I was dragging its legless body behind me. It slowed me down enough that some of the other now-mobile shells were able to pile on top of me, dragging me back down to the industrial swamp. I twisted around and put two rounds into the chest of the Hoofer on top of me, missing its Tesla Battery but damaging it enough that it went limp once more. The other machines clung to me like glue, just out of reach of my pistol. I’d risk losing the weapon if I tried to aim at them. My feet once more touched the murky water, and I told myself to take a deep breath before I got dragged under.
Thank God Toby had my back, just like in the old days. It ran down the shore with my spare pistol in hand, aiming at the machines atop me and firing a few rounds through their heads. These injuries did little to deter the husks, so Toby slid down and grabbed onto my hand before pushing more rounds into them at point-blank range.
“Good of you to help. Could have done without the dramatic timing.” I grinned, though I was hyperventilating from fear and effort.
“Fuck off, Roche! This is not the time for jokes!” Toby pulled the trigger a few more times, and the machines released their grasp on me one by one, finally allowing me to claw against the muddy bank and pull myself up out of the marsh. Toby grabbed the scruff of my shirt and dragged me up the hill. Once we reached the top, I looked back down at the swamp.
I had underestimated how many machines were left in that dumping ground. At least ten more struggled and lumbered forward up the incline after us. That legless machine was still holding on to my ankle. A quick kick sent it tumbling down to collide with another husk.
I grabbed the handle of the driver’s door. Locked! Fuck! Right, I locked it. Of all the times … One of the machines was quickly approaching as I pushed the key into the slot. I grabbed the barrel of my gun, swung at it, and bashed it in the chest, forcing it back so that I had the berth I needed to open the door. “Get in!” I shouted. Toby jumped through the open car door, emptying the rest of its magazine out through the window as I hit the gas pedal. Fuel Gel fired into the engine, and all ten cylinders roared as we flew forward, almost driving into a small hidden moat between the street
