by KJ Nelson
Cameron felt her fur blow in the cool breeze flowing in off the river. The temperature was 52 degrees Fahrenheit.
“No,” Cameron said to herself, not wanting to be distracted by the overflowing amount of sensory information flooding her brain.
When she spoke the OAF made a noise approximate to the word she’d said. It scared her and caused her to freeze up. For years the sounds that the OAF’s made meant you were about to die.
“I need to calm down,” Cameron spoke to herself without vocalizing.
Cameron decided to open her eyes and see what was going on. It seemed like the bullet had fired minutes ago, but she hadn’t heard any further shooting so she was confused.
With a simple thought Cameron opened her eyes, eyes she knew were large and so alien from her own. Immediately they flicked open providing her brain with more incomprehensible information that she could possibly grasp.
Her eyes instantly focused on the bullet that was traveling toward Agbo’s body. It was the only clear shot that was available when Cameron was syncing with the OAF. She watched as the bullet stuck Agbo’s body going 1,789 miles per hour.
Agbo’s body didn't flinch as the bullet struck him in the side. There was a squelch as the bullet pierced his internal organs.
For the first time since syncing with the OAF suit, Cameron felt a feeling that was not her own. She felt the suit’s regret that its former wearer was dead. It wasn’t a sharp feeling, but an existential one.
It did lend credit to the idea that the machines the Neandratons used were not actually machines. They had thoughts and feelings of their own.
Another shot fired from the third porch balcony. This time it was aimed at Cameron’s head. She considered it for what seemed like several seconds but could have only been a couple of milliseconds.
She felt her legs and hands as if they were her own, so she took the natural action of sidestepping the bullet. She watched as it whizzed by her head striking the ground behind her. She was elated at how easily she had been able to avoid the collision.
She smiled and felt the OAF’s lips move in a contorted version of the gesture. It was time to kill some Freeriders.
44
Cameron looked down, taking stock of the OAF’s condition. When she looked at the wound on the suit’s torso an overlay immediately sprung into her vision.
“14 hours remain until fully healed,” the feminine voice said inside her head. She wondered if the voice was a machine, some kind of AI. Or was it the OAF itself? She didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to explore all of the intricacies of the suit.
“Can a bullet penetrate the suit there?” Cameron asked the question inside her mind. She wasn’t sure if the voice would answer.
“There is only minor protection in that area, another shot to that location would prove fatal to the operator,” the voice spoke without inflection.
“Great,” Cameron thought. She would have to be extremely careful not to get hit there. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Cameron was starting to get used to all of the new sensations the suit provided to her brain. Again, as with the replicator, she could feel herself loving the newfound power. She could see it being very difficult ever taking the suit off.
While Cameron examined the suit's damage and took in her new abilities the Freeriders had assembled quite the army against her. There were a dozen men standing or kneeling on the back porch of the mansion and more were joining from the house.
She bared her fangs and roared at the men before her. They would all be very dead very soon.
She took a step and stumbled forward. The stride of the OAF was so much longer than hers and she messed up the placement of the foot. Her toes impacted the ground with great force and she ended up burying her toes in the loose earth.
She pulled the leg back kicking off the bits of dirt that came back with it. She looked at the men who were still cringing at her roar, but their expressions turned to confusion at her clear lack of aptitude at using the OAF.
They all opened fire at her. Several had machine guns and the rate of fire was almost quicker than she could move. She covered the hole in her stomach with her left arm and ducked at the onslaught.
17 bullets hit her on the upper body and head. Her suit registered each hit but took no damage.
“You cannot sustain this rate of fire for long,” the calm voice spoke without alarm. “Please proceed to a defensible location.”
Cameron agreed that was a good plan while at the same time taking numerous shots to the body of the OAF. After another second there was a lull in the number of bullets being fired, so Cameron stood with a quick motion. She moved faster than she knew was possible and was standing less than a tenth of a second later.
She breathed in deeply and threw caution to the wind. She let the suit run in its natural gate and she moved to the house in what she knew was lighting speed. To her, it didn’t seem like she was moving very quickly at all.
The only way she could tell how fast she was moving, was by how slowly the Freeriders were moving in comparison.
The next four seconds were a bloodbath. In the last two years, Cameron had killed with guns, one of mankind’s most lethal inventions. It was nothing compared to the sheer amount of destruction the OAF could unleash on human flesh.
When Cameron leveled with the first man who was reloading his semi-automatic rifle, Cameron reached out with her right hand and simply ripped the man’s head off his shoulders.
It was easier than pulling a dandelion out of the ground. Blood sprayed everywhere and that man’s mouth opened and closed several times before his eyes went blank. Cameron dropped the head and laid waste to the rest of the 20 or so Freeriders on the back porch.
Blood dripped from her fur and the silence was deafening. She finally understood how easy it was for the Neandratons to kill all of humanity. Not only did they not value human life, wiping humanity away was so incredibly easy.
What chance did a flesh and blood human, endowed with little more than sticks and stones stand against the might of such a people? Cameron would have laughed if she wasn’t so nauseous.
The memory of feeling the replicator die came back to her as she took in every minute detail of the destruction she had wrought. She couldn't feel her own stomach inside the suit, otherwise, she would have vomited. More human’s dead at her hands.
Cameron did what she did best, she compartmentalized. She stuffed the pain and revulsion deep inside herself and carried on.
Cameron knelt down and picked up one of the large rifles and two clips of ammo off the ground. She didn’t want the Freeriders taking any hostages as she hunted them inside the mansion and across the grounds of the estate.
Cameron sprinted around the corner of the house and to the trap door that led to the cellar. The ease with which she moved once again marveled her. She did her best to keep the memories of the slaughter she’d just committed in the back of her mind.
She had more murders planned, one, in particular, she looked forward to.
She reached down and shattered the lock with her left hand and pulled the cellar door open. She kneeled and peered inside. It was dark inside, the fire had gone out, but to her eyes, she could see perfectly.
“I brought you something,” She spoke, but only grunts and growls came out. Her speech wasn’t anything close to what she’d said.
“That’s going to be inconvenient,” Cameron thought to herself. Drac looked at her like he understood what she’d said.
“Can you understand me?” Cameron asked, the strange noises continued to emanate from the OAF’s mouth.
“Yes,” Drac said simply, nodding his head. “I am fluent in OAF linguistics.”
“Why can’t I speak English? Agbo spoke to me clearly.” Cameron was frustrated, she needed to be able to communicate while in the OAF.
“Did he?” Drac’s eyebrows raised, impressed. “I didn’t realize it was possible, Agbo must have been the only one obsessed enough with
Sapes to even try.” Drac chuckled darkly.
Stafford just stared at them as they spoke, his mouth open.
“Is that Cameron?” He asked looking suspiciously back toward the entrance of the cellar.
“Since we are still breathing, of course,” Drac spoke sarcastically. Stafford rolled his eyes truly fed up with the pompous alien.
“Cameron, we heard shooting. Are you ok?” Stafford asked, looking her over. The revulsion at her new form was evident. Cameron tried to not take it personally. All surviving humans had learned to fear and loathe the Squatches.
Cameron nodded instead of speaking. She motioned with the assault rifle toward Stafford and he slowly walked over toward her. She waved a hand at him impatiently and he moved quickly.
He grabbed the gun and the extra clips and readied the rifle with practiced ease.
“Stay here while I clean up,” Cameron said to Drac, needing him to translate again. He did, and Stafford nodded. Before she left Cameron pointed to Stafford and back to Drac in a quick motion.
“Oh he’s not going anywhere,” Stafford said aiming his weapon at Drac. The small man rolled his eyes in frustration. Cameron still didn’t trust him. He would betray them in a heartbeat as soon as they let their guard down.
“What of Agbo?” Drac asked, showing genuine concern for the first time.
“Dead,” was all Cameron said backing away from the small opening.
Cameron closed the cellar doors behind her as she left to go take care of the rest of Rodrick’s men.
She felt sick to her stomach, but it had to be done. They would never stop coming after them if she allowed even one of them to keep breathing.
45
Cameron eviscerated the Freeriders. There wasn’t a single one who could stand before her longer than a second. The more violence she dealt out the sicker she became. She found one man asleep in his bed and didn’t give him a chance to ever wake up again.
What she didn’t find was any trace of Rodrick. She searched furiously trying to find him. He wasn’t in any of the rooms in the mansion. She searched the grounds taking out the front gate guards and all of the men on the perimeter. He was nowhere.
She also didn’t find Annabelle among the men either. The only thing she could think of was that he either ran for it when he realized he couldn’t win, or he was hiding somewhere on the property.
Cameron thought it was most likely the latter.
She ran back out to where Agbo’s body lay. She checked to make sure he wasn’t breathing. It was obvious he was gone. On the ground, next to her pile of clothes, Cameron saw her backpack. She grabbed it and slung it over her huge shoulder.
Cameron then ran back toward the house to check on Stafford and Garland before she searched every square inch of the house looking for Rodrick.
Stafford was waiting for her by the door when she came back.
“We need to leave now,” Stafford said, concern written all over his face.
Cameron held her hands out in front of her in a questioning manner. She was going to have to get better at sign language if she didn’t want to have to rely on Drac to translate for her when she was in the OAF.
“It’s Garland,” Stafford spoke in a low voice. “He isn’t doing well. We need to get him back to Jeb and Joanne.”
Cameron nodded in agreement.
“I lost Rodrick,” she looked at Drac needing him to translate.
“She lost the Sape in charge of this rabble that calls themselves Freeriders,” Drac spoke condescendingly, as only he could.
Stafford shook his head angered by the revelation.
“It is what it is,” he said with a frown. “What threat is he with all of his men dead?”
Cameron nodded in agreement. She could always come back and hunt the man at a later time after everything was settled with Garland.
“I’ll be right back,” Cameron said, running away and leaving Drac to translate in her absence.
Her plan was to return with three horses, but the animals wouldn’t let her anywhere near them. They whinnied and tramped away before she could get within 20 feet of them.
“Great,” she thought to herself, realizing she would have to bring everyone to the horses. She ran back to the Cellar and found Stafford, Drac, and Garland waiting for her outside. Drac had Garland draped over his shoulder. He was making a face like he smelled something horrible.
Cameron went over and grabbed Garland into her strong arms. She placed him in a seated position in the crook of her left arm and motioned for Stafford and Drac to follow her.
She had to walk as slowly as possible to give the two a remote chance of keeping up with her. It was a painfully slow feeling in her new powerful body. She pointed toward the two horses ahead who were wandering around just inside the front gate.
Stafford nodded and Cameron stayed well back from them as Drac and Stafford rounded them up. Cameron placed Garland on the ground and Stafford pointed to Drac signaling him to put Garland on his horse.
“This horse will barely be able to carry me, let alone both of us.”
Drac sighed and led his horse over to Garland. Cameron moved even further away while Drac and Stafford laboriously loaded Garland onto the back of the horse. Drac’s short stature didn’t help with matters. He could barely even reach the top of the saddle.
Finally, after a few painful minutes of watching and wishing she could help, they were ready to leave. Cameron hated leaving so many supplies behind and also Rodrick, but they didn’t have the ability to carry anything extra with them.
With the forefinger on her right hand, Cameron traced a circular motion in the air, the universal sign of “let’s move.”
She let Drac and Stafford go first, wanting to keep her eyes on Drac while staying far enough away to not spook the horses.
She had a plan that Stafford wasn’t going to like forming in her mind. She didn’t plan on going back to the co-op right away. She was going to find the ship Agbo had mentioned, and Drac was going to lead the way.
46
They were roughly 12 miles from the co-op. It would take a little over two hours to get there with the slow pace they had to set to keep Garland from falling off the horse.
Cameron bided her time, she needed to think through everything she wanted to do. She had two main goals, the first was obviously finding the ship. With it, she would have unlimited power. She could unite all of humanity under her and lead them out of the darkness.
Her second goal was to find another replicator. She figured there must be another one somewhere on the planet. She would force Drac to tell her, then she would decide what to do with him.
The idea of killing him was very high on the list of possibilities. Still, she cringed at the idea. Bloodshed had lost its appeal as an acceptable course of action except in the direst of situations since the death of the replicator.
Cameron decided she would think about it some more. Maybe it was best to keep her word to the co-op and allow them to decide his fate. It was the same thing as killing him, but she wouldn’t have to pull the trigger.
“Stop,” Cameron growled when the time was right. They were about halfway back to the co-op and she didn’t think Stafford would run into any problems the rest of the way.
“She said to stop,” Drac said at Stafford’s questioning gaze.
“What is it, Cameron?” Stafford asked, his eyes showing worry. He looked at Garland’s pale face then back to Cameron in quick succession. She knew he wanted to get to Jeb without delay.
Cameron didn’t respond with words. She simply ran over to Drac moving fast enough that she didn’t spook the horses and grabbed Drac and threw him over her shoulder.
Drac let out a satisfying scream that Cameron enjoyed more than anyone had a right to. Stafford just stared at her dumbstruck by her speed and actions.
To her surprise, Drac didn’t put up much of a fight when she grabbed him. He went limp as if he was expecting the move.
“Cameron, what are
you doing?” Stafford asked, clearly confused.
Cameron waved her free hand in a “get moving” motion and started walking away from Stafford. She wished she could explain further what her plan was, but she didn’t want Drac knowing and she also couldn’t take off the suit to talk to him directly.
She would explain when she landed the alien ship on the front lawn of the co-op. Cameron smiled to herself at the idea of someone trying to challenge her leadership after that.
Drac continued to remain silent as Cameron walked in the opposite direction of Stafford and the co-op. After a few seconds, Stafford seemed to get the picture and he grabbed the reins of Garland’s horse and continued in the direction of the shipping yard.
He looked over his shoulder for the last time, the anger and betrayal clear on his face. Cameron knew he would forgive her when she returned from her mission, victorious.
When Stafford was out of sight, Cameron dropped Drac to his feet. He looked up at her expectantly, too calm. Cameron had a moment of hesitation at the look on his face but pushed ahead with her plan.
“Where is the ship?” She asked in the guttural language of the OAF.
“What ship?” Drac responded as cool as ever, completely unruffled by her question.
“I spoke with Agbo,” Cameron was waiting for his face to give away any emotion. Drac was either doing an exceptional job of masking his emotions, or he was expecting the question.
“I see,” Drac said simply. “And he told you about a ship?”
“Cut the act. He told me everything,” Cameron held exactly what she knew close to the chest. She wanted to maintain the upper hand.
“I see,” Drac said a second time. She could see the calculation in his eyes as he tried to figure out what she knew.
“The ship is in an area you used to refer to as “Downtown Charleston,” the word Charleston sounded strange on his lips. “There is a major outpost there.”
