Junkers

by Benjamin Wallace

  “Warranty?!” Jake said. “How can you think about warranties at a time like this, Miss Graves? What is the cost of a single machine versus a human life?”

  Forester wrung his hands together. “Quite a lot actually.”

  “Is it more than the price of integrity?” Jake asked.

  Forester shrugged with a nervous smile.

  Hailey showed Jake an invoice.

  Jake nodded. “Fair enough. That is a lot. But is it more than the price of a PR team to keep Happy Dell Independent Family Farms Incorporated off the news streams?”

  The man sighed. “Please take care of the matter, Mr. Ashley.”

  Jake turned to the Beast and yelled. “We’re up!”

  The doors opened and the crew filed out of the truck. They moved to the rear and began unloading their gear.

  “You unctuous jerk,” Hailey said under her breath.

  “I’ve asked you before, please don’t insult me with words I have to look up. We don’t have time for that. We have to stop this killer.” Jake started for the truck.

  “You’re a prick,” she said louder.

  He turned. “There. Wasn’t that easier?”

  Forester followed. “So, we’re all good now, right? I can go? Home? You’ll call when it’s done?” The executive farmer turned to leave.

  “Mr. Forester, before you go, there is one thing I have to ask you.”

  “Yes?” He bounced on the balls of his feet. Each bounce took him closer to the safety of his car.

  “Has the machine ever exhibited any artistic qualities?” Jake asked.

  “What… what do you mean?”

  “Has it ever written you a poem? Sung a song? Written a book?”

  “No.”

  Mason popped his head around the corner of the truck. “And it just shot the employee? It didn’t dress him up like a scarecrow and put him on a stake?”

  “What?” Forester squirmed. “No!”

  “It didn’t pin a sign to him that said, ‘If I only had a brain’?”

  “No! My God. Why are you asking this?”

  “It’s just something we have to do, Mr. Forester.” Jake said. “Sentience complicates things. But it sounds like we’re in the clear.”

  Forester looked more frightened by it all than annoyed by the technicalities. “Can I go?”

  “Yeah,” Mason said. “You can run away now.”

  Dan Forester nodded and jogged to his car. He slammed the vehicle’s door and sped away.

  Mason held up Jake’s disruptor pack and motioned for him to turn around.

  “‘If I only had a brain’?” Jake asked.

  “And then the robot takes the brains out of the farmer’s head. That’s poetic justice, Jake. Which is a form of poetry, and poetry is art.”

  “You know why no one likes you, right?”

  “Yep.” Mason held up the pack again.

  Jake slipped his arms into the shoulder straps and switched on the pack. He pulled the discharger from the holster and checked the safety. It was broken.

  3

  They stood at the edge of the cornfield, staring down the rows of the golden green crop as the sun began to set. The breeze danced through the field and the stalks swayed at its command. The motion and the darkness made it difficult to detect any movement that wasn’t corn.

  Jake didn’t like it. “Send up the drone, Mason.”

  “What drone?” Mason asked.

  “What do you mean, ‘what drone’?”

  “You mean the Seeker 4000 with thermal imaging and focal plane arrays capable of detection and pursuit?”

  “Of course I mean that one.”

  “Ah, well then you would also mean the one that is sitting in thirty-two separate parts back at the office waiting on a new focal plane array, firmware realignment and a valid operator’s permit.”

  “Perfect.”

  A gust of wind startled the cornfield and the stalks dipped further into the rows. A dozen shrill whistles rose from the field.

  “Do you all hear that?” Glitch put a hand to his ear and made an adjustment on a knob hidden behind his earlobe. “What’s that sound?”

  “That’s the wind whipping through the plains,” Mason said.

  “What?”

  Mason stared at the cyborg. “Didn’t you ever blow on a blade of grass?”

  Glitch shook his head.

  Mason grumbled, “Stupid kids,” before saying, “It whistles.” He pointed to the field. “Like that.”

  “Oh, good. I thought my ear was buggy again. I think a wire is loose.”

  “Does any part of you work?” Mason asked.

  “My fist works. Want me to show you?”

  Kat stepped between them. “Knock it off, the both of you. We don’t want this thing sneaking up on us just because you two can’t keep your mouths shut.”

  “We’d never hear it anyway,” Mason said. “This thing has sound baffling like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “For a scarecrow?” Kat asked.

  “The thing was designed to sneak up on birds, Kat. And a crow’s hearing is better than a human’s. And way better than Glitch’s, apparently.”

  “Shut up, Mason. I can hear you, you know.”

  “Perfect.” Jake ignored them both and peered into the rows of corn. He turned his head, listening for the silent killer. “So we can’t see it. And we can’t hear it. Any good news?”

  “Yeah, since it doesn’t really matter, I can keep on insulting ED-Four O Nine pounds here.”

  “Hey,” was Glitch’s only comeback.

  “Seriously, Glitch?” Mason shook his head. “Is there anyway you can upgrade your wit? Because you’re just making things too easy for me.”

  “Just shut up and let me think.” Jake paced the edge of the cornfield, peering down each row as far as the darkness would allow.

  Kat stepped beside him and asked quietly, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it couldn’t be much worse. A silent renegade machine equipped for killing and hiding in a maze of noisy darkness.”

  “I don’t want to be the one to say it, but you could hand it over to Hailey and her team.”

  Jake turned back to the team. “Here’s the plan. We’ll split up—”

  “Because that always works,” Mason said.

  “Shut it, Mason,” Jake said.

  “No, really, I saw it in a horror movie once.”

  “Enough.” Jake walked to the head of a corn row. “We’ll split up. But keep no more than one row between us and stay abreast of each other at all times.”

  Mason held up a finger and opened his mouth.

  “And no abreast jokes,” Jake finished.

  Mason closed his mouth and lowered his hand.

  “Mason, hand out the comms.”

  “What comms, Jake?”

  Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fine. Keep an ear out for one another and have their back. This isn’t your typical murderous laundry machine. It’s quiet, has a machine gun for one arm and a sword for the other. It’s dangerous. Let’s find it and put it down quick.”

  The team nodded and spread out across the edge of the cornfield.

  The discharger was shaped like a small carbine and he pulled if from a holster on his hip. He pulled the stock to his shoulder and made sure the cable that ran from the pommel was free of obstruction. His thumb found the safety and switched it off as if it actually worked in the first place. Within seconds, the pack on his back warmed as the circuits closed and the capacitor charged. A pull of the trigger would send the disruption charge through the baton and out a directional Tesla coil at the end of the instrument.

  A single charge could incapacitate most consumer and low-end industrial models. The R34-P3R was weatherized, however, and Jake questioned how effective it would actually be. He looked over to Glitch.

  Each team member carried a similar backpack, but the giant cyborg had another tool slung across his back. The cannon looked like a rifle b
uilt to ridiculous proportions. The barrel could double for a sewer pipe, and the receiver was a block the size of a car battery. Its bulk made it too cumbersome for anyone that wasn’t augmented like Glitch.

  Glitch caught Jake’s look and acknowledged the stare.

  Jake nodded. “Keep the IMP handy.”

  Glitch nodded back and stepped into the cornfield. The rest followed his lead and each team member took a row.

  Jake wasn’t but a few feet in when the sounds of nature swallowed the footsteps of his teammates. Having never had the opportunity to wander through a cornfield, Jake had always pictured them as quiet, serene places, but the snap of the stalks and crackle of the plants made it anything but relaxing. Every creak could be their prey, every snap could be an ambush, and every sound put his nerves on edge.

  The ground was moist beneath his feet and rich with an earthy smell that rose with every cautious step. He moved slowly, straining to hear in the darkness.

  A gust of wind pushed the crop deep into the furrowed row. He jumped back and gripped the disrupter tighter in his hand. Two rows over he heard Glitch swear. Four rows over he heard the faint traces of Mason laughing at Glitch’s discomfort.

  The wind calmed and for a brief moment Jake could see further into the crop. Something was there and it was staring back at him.

  Maybe.

  It was as tall as the crop itself and thin like a stalk but, unlike the corn, it didn’t sway.

  A shout rose in his throat but before it could escape his mouth, another gust of wind obscured his view. He held still and waited for the wind to rest. When it did, he peered once more into the darkness at what he thought he had seen. But it wasn’t there. He shuddered.

  “It’s ahead of us,” he called to either side.

  “Where?” Glitch’s voice was faint in the field of plants.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Real helpful!” Mason screamed back. “Thanks.”

  Jake walked faster, calling for positioning every few meters to make sure the team was keeping together. The wind came in spurts and slowed their progress. It soon became almost rhythmic. With every pause, Jake scanned the field for the shadowy figure. But shadows were everywhere and he could never be certain the movement he spotted was anything other than corn.

  Another gust blew a mass of leaves in his face. He grabbed at the plant. “I’m starting to really hate corn,” he shouted and swatted the plant away.

  It was in front of him. An evil face etched in metal beneath a rotting, floppy hat.

  Jake screamed and stumbled backward as the machine swung its left arm.

  He fell beneath the scythe as it cut a silver arc through air and corn. He hit the ground and the sliced plants crashed down on top of him.

  The machine held up its left arm and glanced at an ear of corn impaled on the long and slender blade. The Reaper raised its arm to strike again.

  Jake pulled the disruptor’s trigger. A blue burst of voltage lit the field around him and crackled through the air as the arc connected with the tip of the scythe.

  The arm stopped. The blade shuddered. The speared corncob popped.

  The appendage fell dead at the scarecrow’s side, but the robot did not fall. The machine looked at the dead limb and tried to move it again. Its torso bucked but the arm would not respond other than flopping a bit.

  “It’s here!” Jake shouted.

  A whir filled the cornrow and the Reaper raised its other arm. The kernel cannon’s barrels blurred as they spun up to speed.

  Jake scrambled back on knees and elbows.

  The scarecrow fired.

  Plumes of earth chased him backward as the kernels spit from the mini-gun and dug into the ground. They stitched the earth closer and closer until they had reached just below his feet.

  Jake fired again. The disrupter’s charge leapt to the floating barrels but did nothing to stop their spin. The arm did not fall.

  The Reaper continued to fire.

  The musky smell of damp earth was quickly overtaken by the scent of ozone and freshly popped popcorn as the fluffy white snack poured from the barrels and began to pile up on the ground.

  An explosion of cornstalks erupted next to the machine as Glitch charged through the rows shoulder-first at the Reaper. The giant man plowed into the machine, lifting it from the ground and sending it several rows deep back into the field.

  The cyborg glanced at Jake quickly and dove into the field after the machine.

  “Glitch, wait.” Jake started to get to his feet as Mason and Kat found their way through the web of leaves.

  Kat grabbed Jake’s hand and helped him up as Mason grabbed a handful of popcorn off the ground.

  “Where did they go?” Kat asked.

  Jake pointed down the row. “Follow the wreckage.”

  “Did yoush mape dish, Jakgh? Dish ish delicishous,” Mason said through a mouthful of popcorn. “Neesh buttersh sthow.”

  Jake and Kat forced Mason toward the new path that Glitch had cleared through the field. It twisted and turned in indiscriminate directions.

  Fallen stalks tripped at their heels. The uneven nature of the furrowed field grabbed at their toes. More than once, Mason almost choked on his popcorn. For five minutes they rushed after their coworker, shouting his name as they fought to remain on their feet.

  The path cut right, and they were met with a wall of corn. The team nearly fell over Glitch. The large man sat tenderly picking at his arm. His sleeve was dark with blood and he twitched with every touch.

  “Glitch?” Kat put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Damn thing shot me in my real arm.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of all the arms I’ve got, he had to shoot this one.”

  “I’m sorry, Glitch,” Kat said.

  “Ah, it’s okay. I was thinking about getting it replaced anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you fry him?” Mason asked.

  “I did. Right after he shot me.” Glitch stood and brushed at the wounds on his arm. “Stupid thing used that spinny-gun to soak up the shot. Then he shot a bunch of popcorn at me and ran off.”

  “It’s mini-gun, Glitch.”

  “Whatever it is. He’s using it as a shield.”

  “It did the same back there,” Jake said. “Mason. Kat. If you’re going to shoot, try and hit it from the left side.” He turned to Glitch. “Can you handle the IMP?”

  Glitch pulled the large rifle from his back, seated it in his hand and smiled.

  “Good. Try to keep the damage down.” Jake turned to the others. “We distract. Glitch melts.” He turned back and parted the corn. “Oh, thank God.”

  The team stepped through the crop into a large clearing. The heart of the farm consisted of several large steel barns surrounding a paved lot filled with equipment. Several service lights glowed above each door. It was the first light they’d seen since venturing into the fields. Unfortunately it didn’t produce much more than atmosphere and shadows.

  The group stepped onto the pavement and surveyed the area looking for movement or any clue as to where the machine had run.

  “Any ideas?” Kat asked.

  Mason raised his disruptor and started walking. “He went this way.”

  “How can you tell?”

  He pointed to a trail of fluffy white popcorn. “Come on Hansel. Come on Gretel.”

  There wasn’t much, but the wind had left enough of the popcorn undisturbed to establish a trail.

  “Everyone stay behind Glitch.” Jake spoke softly.

  “That’s because he likes you least,” Mason said.

  “It’s because of the IMP, you jerk.”

  “Shut up, both of you,” Kat said. “Before the wind takes the trail away.”

  The crew formed up behind the cyborg’s bulk in a small “V” as Glitch followed the white specks.

  They had taken only a few steps when a sound in the cornfield had them all spinning on their heels. Glitch pulled the trigger on the IMP and it kicked in
his hands. The sound it made was subtle, a high-pitched bloop like a pebble falling into a hundred-foot well, but the shot itself tore a four-foot hole straight through the crop.

  The stalks that weren’t obliterated burned. The kernels popped all at once, creating a cloud of popcorn. Once it settled to the ground, it looked like Christmas and the team could see clear through to the other side of the cornfield.

  There was nothing else behind them.

  Mason clapped. “Nice shot, Redenbacher.”

  “Shut up, Mason.”

  He patted Glitch on the belly. “Whatever you say Jiffy-Puffy.”

  “I’m not fat. They’re servos.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Would you two please just follow the trail before the wind blows it away?” Kat asked.

  “Right.” Mason pointed ahead of Glitch. “Follow the popcorn. Like a professional.”

  The still air didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to. The popcorn led them around the corner to a metal barn that was larger than most neighborhoods. Once they turned the corner, they found the steel door ripped from its hinges and tossed ten feet away.

  “I think he went in there,” Glitch said.

  “Very good, Glitch.” Mason asked. “That new processor is really doing wonders for you.”

  Jake shook his head and stepped through the hole into the barn. He reached out to the wall looking for a light switch, not really expecting it to be there. It wasn’t. The barn felt even bigger inside. He pulled out a flashlight and hit the switch.

  The beam didn’t penetrate far into the darkness, but the cavernous nature of the barn was exposed. It rose three stories up before there was anything resembling a ceiling and was filled with massive pieces of farm equipment. Several harvesters were lined up near a pair of monstrous doors. They were set to roll as soon as the computers said the crop was ready.

  The rest of the team filed in behind Jake and spread out along the wall.

  Jake splashed the flashlight around the group. “Someone find the lights.”

  Before anyone could respond with a “how?” or “yeah right” the metal cavern filled with a mechanical whir.

  “Spinny-gun!” Glitch shouted and shoved Mason out of the way a half second before the corn came raining down from the rafters.