Allen, who seemed a bit more comfortable now, turned to face me. “What other things did you see?”
“I saw the reason I’m nervous around you metal men. It was nothing but brutal efficiency. I saw a robot snapping necks and tearing apart limbs even while it was riddled with holes. I saw one take a full belt of ammunition before it fell. The Automatics were scary then, and they still are now. That’s why I don’t like them too much. But I’m getting better.”
“I see.” Allen sat there processing what I’d told it, and I took another big swig. I hadn’t expected to relive the War tonight, but then, I hadn’t been prepared for any of what had happened today. The War wasn’t my favourite thing to recollect …
“Detective.” I felt Allen shaking me.
I tried to refocus on the kitchen and the robot. But I didn’t feel like being awake, and I didn’t feel well. “I’m good, metal man, just … tired …” Soon, I wasn’t bothered by my thoughts any longer. As my brain burnt itself out, I slumped to the floor and shut off for the night.
“Back end opening in three. Get ready!”
Grey steel, darkness except for the muzzle flash from the machine guns mounted on the side of the tin can illuminating the small windows to the outside. I smelled the stench of sweat and gunpowder. The Lewis Gun Mark VI in my hands weighed heavily after three hours of moving into position, but I had enough strength to grab the top lever and chamber the first round of many. Sinclair to my right, a nameless body to my left. The only way I knew it was Sinclair was from his breathing; he was far calmer than any of the others.
“Hey, El, you good?”
“Yeah, y-yeah, I’m good, Paddy.” My fingers were raw already, and I hadn’t fired a shot. A mortar shell whizzed by us and hit the ground, sending waves through our ranks. Too close for comfort, but not close enough to do us damage. Any moment now we’d be over the Austros’ trench, and then we, the Cleanup Crew, would do our job: making sure no one shot back at the Manuals.
“I’ll stick by you — you lead, though. After all, your gun fires faster than mine.” He chambered a round in his own Springfield and checked his 1911. “Think there’ll be a lot down there, El?”
“Paddy … I can’t …” It was hard to breathe. I’d never taken another person’s life before. It was choking me, the thought of ending another’s life. Someone’s son, or father, or brother. They’d never come home. But I might not come home, either — then what use would I be? Whether we lived or died, the fight continued. We would just stop caring, because there would be nothing left to care about.
“Go, go, go!” the CO barked, and the rear cracked open. The bright sky was clogged with black smoke and gunfire.
We tumbled out into a trench. The tank continued on away from us, and some stragglers in the back were rattled with gunfire — three of us were dead before we’d even started. The mud nearly swallowed me whole, and Sinclair grabbed my arm and hoisted me up, propping me up against a wall as we scanned the area. I immediately realized that I wasn’t standing in mud. The sticky substance was red, not brown, and the place where my head had been moments ago was where a human heart may have been beating.
“El!” Sinclair grounded himself. Two Austro-Hungarian soldiers rounded a corner and hesitated as they, too, tried to process the carnage.
My weapon was levelled at them, but my finger didn’t pull. We stared at each another for an eternity, only snapping out of it when the clack of Sinclair’s rifle released a bullet into one of their chests. Then I pulled the trigger indifferently, loosing half my magazine into them and seeing both fall. A Manual trudged overhead, metal legs blocking out the sun, and another tank made its way close to the trench to deposit another wave of the Cleanup Crew.
I made my way to the freshly dead. Their bodies were unmoving — I wouldn’t have been able to control myself if they had still been alive after that. Past the curve of the trench, to my left, another Austro appeared, firing off a rifle in my direction as I grounded myself behind one of the bodies. The Lewis Gun fell from my hands, and I reached for my sidearm, which had slipped off of me during my initial entry into the trench.
The dead body I was hiding behind had a gleaming silver handle on it. I reached for it, levelled it, and fired off two rounds. The Diamondback kicked much more than I was prepared for, but it made two holes the size of my fist in the body of the other man. I got up from the mud and gore to retrieve my rifle, which was clogged from the filth. Sinclair was behind me, rechambering his rifle as he stacked up to the dirt wall.
“What you got there, El?”
“German pistol. Lost the other one.” I twirled the revolver in my hands. It felt natural. Felt good. Then again, the adrenalin hadn’t run out yet. I’d probably be sobbing at what I’d had to do after all this was over. Austros had been salvaging German weapons since the latter swapped sides, so it wasn’t uncommon to find a treasure like this on a new corpse. The whine of pneumatic pressure being released filled the air, and I looked
