Love in the Robot Dawn

by C. W. Crowe

  She turned to one of the robots. “The signal?”

  “It was here, but now it’s gone. The Raptors must have destroyed the device.”

  Mom nodded and walked over to examine the carnage.

  It was something out of a movie shot in Hell. Bodies, or more accurately, pieces of them, were strewn across the floor in places and piled up in others. An occasional arm or leg was identifiable but that was all. I was thankful for that.

  Mom moved towards one Raptor and reached out and removed something from its teeth.

  It was a bloody bundle of blue hair.

  She turned and headed for the door, saying “This experiment is over. We are all going back to Ft. Smith. Call our aircraft.”

  An hour later, we heard the hissing noises of a robot craft as it left.

  *.*.*

  It took a week before we didn’t jump at every unexpected sound. But day by day and mile by mile, it became clear that we really had escaped and that they weren’t looking for us.

  It had snowed today, but we didn’t really care because we had found a little cabin used by hunters. It had a fireplace and a stove and an outhouse - for two people traveling through the mountains alone, it was luxury.

  The people who came to the cabin must have come on horseback because there was a little stable in the back and hay for the horses. It looked a little old, but they ate it well enough.

  I touched the scar on Lucy’s stomach where she’d been cut and then moved my hand around to her back and touched her new scar there. “If we keep this up, Leo, I’ll be one big scar,” she whispered sleepily.

  I moved my hand upwards until I felt the stubble of her hair. I pulled her to me so that our noses touched.

  “I love you, Lucy,” I said.

  Part Five: Robot Dawn

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Decision

  "Water weighs 9 pounds per gallon, that's why."

  I looked over at Lucy, riding her horse beside mine. I frowned at her but I couldn't help it. She could have added "dummy" to her sentence and it would have sounded just the same.

  She was getting tired of traveling and was in a bad mood. I couldn't really blame her because I was tired of it too. When we first got the horses, before Las Alamos, it was fine. We were in green mountains, the weather was at least sometimes pleasant and we had each other.

  That last part was the only thing that was still true. The desert of northern Arizona was a terrible, desolate, never ending wasteland, broken up occasionally by roadside motels, truck stops and little towns. The weather was the pits too. During the day, we would either freeze or bake, but at night we'd always freeze because we sometimes couldn't find any shelter or even enough wood for a fire. It was cold even with Lucy and I bundled up in our shared sleeping bags.

  The towns were all deserted because the people either died or left soon after the robots attacked and the power went out. Who would live in this hellhole without power? Without air conditioning?

  But that did offer one advantage - there were usually things to scavenge, things the previous residents didn't think important or had simply forgotten.

  And water, of course. Even the most modest dwelling had at one time had water, and often enough, some was left behind in the toilet or even in the pipes themselves. In towns, they often had raised water tanks that supplied the residents via gravity - water was pumped into the tank and then gravity would push it into homes. Those were great because, some of the time and even without the pumps, the water still worked and we could even take a shower.

  Those were good days, but they had become farther and farther apart.

  I'd just made a comment about why people didn't take their water with them when Lucy explained that water was heavy. Well, duh, your highness. Sorry to be such a dunce.

  I didn't want to say anything mean, so I just said, "Think we should take a break?"

  "No."

  So it's one syllable answers now, is it? I knew she wasn't feeling well, had thrown up this morning, but that didn't mean she had to take it out on me.

  The sun came out from behind a cloud and I realized I was hot. I unbuttoned my shirt. "You warm?" I asked.

  "Yeah." Lucy reached across herself and pulled off the heavy wool sweater she'd been wearing. She had on a tank top underneath.

  I fell back a couple of paces and studied her in the strong light. She sat straight in the saddle, looking directly ahead. Her shoulders and biceps were toned looking - living in the fresh air and traveling had been good for her. I could see the scar from the DRP on her neck - it had taken more than a month, but it seemed to be finally healed. She said it didn't hurt anymore.

  She was tanned, even on her head which now had hair that was about a half inch long. I teased her last night that I'd soon need to give her another haircut and she'd laughed. I loved it when she rubbed her new hair on me - it felt so good.

  Her face had changed too. It was slightly more mature - reflecting, I guessed, the fact that she was pregnant, plus all we'd been through. It was a good look for her with her large, bright eyes and lips that were as full and perfect as always.

  Most days I told her she was beautiful and I always meant it.

  *.*.*

  That evening, as the sun went down, we set up camp off Route 160, near a group of desert bushes that still looked a little green. The horses nibbled without much interest, but it was all the food we had for them. It had been thirty four days since we'd left Los Alamos and, the best I could figure from the road atlas, we'd covered about 350 miles - around half way to Vegas and right in the middle of some of the worst country I'd ever imagined. It was flat and hilly, hot and cold, choking with dry dust one minute and muddy after a torrential thunderstorm the next. It was one bad extreme after another - but never any type of happy middle.

  Tonight, we were going to eat the last of our Spam. We'd found a full case of it at an abandoned convenience store in some little town. It had been in a cabinet that was the home for a nest of snakes.

  At first we joked about it and Lucy made a face when she realized she had to eat it or go without protein. But lately, it had begun to taste good, like some type of gourmet meal you have only once or twice in your life.

  She opened the can and moved it near the fire. "Ah yes. My favorite," she said, joking.

  During the afternoon, she'd started to feel better and become more like herself, smiling at me and sometimes holding my hand. Since we'd been married, I'd learned that sometimes she just needed to be alone with her thoughts.

  But I'd been thinking too. "Lucy, maybe . . . maybe Vegas isn't a good idea. It's a lot like this - it's desert. I remember it as all lights and fountains, but that was from before the robots. I'm sure the water is gone by now and probably the people too. I don't see how they could have survived."

  "There's water near Vegas."

  She'd been studying the map. "Yeah, the Colorado River. But we've got to figure the robots bombed Hoover Dam and that Lake Meade is gone."

  "Still a lot of water though."

  "But remember, we're heading towards Area 51, that's almost a hundred miles north of Vegas."

  She slid over beside me and put her arm around my shoulder. I felt the stubble on her head with my palm. Lucy turned to me and smiled, "I've thought about turning back, but we know what's behind us - and it's nothing I care about. But out there," she pointed to the west, "there's something that I know you want to see - a place without robots. Every time you mention Area 51, I see it in your eyes, like you're on some kind of quest."

  She took my hand and touched my ring, "And no one hates the robots more than I do - no one. Any place we can live without worrying about them flying overhead or capturing us or even . . . taking our baby . . . would be heaven. So let's push on, Leo. We can make it there, I know we can."

  I turned to her and looked into her eyes, "You sure?"

  I could tell from her noises that her mind was made up, but there was something else there; a bit of melancholy that had started after we'd l
eft Los Alamos.

  "I'm sure as long as you watch my back," she whispered.

  "I will as long as you watch mine."

  She kissed me quickly and then reached for our dinner, "I'm starved - eating for two, you know."

  "I know," I said. I made sure she got most of the Spam.

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Barking Dog

  The next day we spotted what looked like it might be a gas station along the side of the road. It was only a pinprick in the distance, but Lucy had good eyes. It took us over an hour to arrive at it.

  It was like others we'd seen - clearly abandoned, but still standing. Too bad it was only noon; if it had been near sundown, we could have stayed and had good shelter.

  Out front were four gas pumps. A dirt road ran off to the north, disappearing into the hills over the horizon. Three cars had been abandoned in the paved and now sand covered parking lot. Cars had stopped running along with everything else with electronics the day the robots attacked. Once, Lucy and I had seen the tail of an airplane a few miles off the road. We decided there was no need to ride over and investigate.

  On the side of the building was a sign that said, "Last Gas for 63 miles. Fill up NOW!"

  Lucy was in a good mood today. She hadn't thrown up and had told me maybe that part was over. "Sorry, Mr. Sign, we don't need any gas, but let's see what else you have to offer. A little Spam would be nice."

  I grinned at her as we slowly rode the horses around the corner to the front of the building.

  There was a bare chested man sitting there in a folding chair, holding a bottle in his hand. He said, "You folks like grape soda?"

  *.*.*

  I glanced over at Lucy in case she was going to try for the pistol she always kept in her waistband, but she was too shocked to move.

  I found my voice, "I . . . I don't think I've ever had one." It was probably a stupid thing to say, but the man didn't appear to be a threat and his noises indicated he was friendly.

  "Well, that's surprising. Why don't you folks get down and you can try one. They don't have a lot of fizz left, but they're still pretty good. I haven't had a grape in three years, but this brings back the memory, for sure."

  Lucy and I slid down from our horses and approached. The man had to be in his thirties or perhaps more. He was uniformly tanned over his lean chest, arms and face, though there were streaks of white and red paint scattered over his bare skin. He wore tan leather pants and moccasin boots that came up to his knees. Around his neck was a necklace of silver which held a large green stone. He had a diamond earing and his long, dark hair was pulled back and loosely braided.

  I could tell from Lucy's noises that she was conflicted. The man must have sensed it too because he said, "Come on and have a seat and don't worry. We don't scalp white folks anymore - managed to break the habit some time ago."

  He smiled and I couldn't help myself. I did too. Lucy and I went over and sat as he opened two bottles and handed them to us.

  "Mind if I ask your names?"

  Lucy answered, "It's Leo and Lucy."

  "So, where you folks heading?"

  Lucy took a sip and then a full swallow, "Vegas," she said.

  The man frowned, "I'd advise against that. I was there about a year or so ago. Not much left, robots bombed the hell out of the place. All the big buildings are rubble."

  He sighed with the memory, "My name is George Straton, though I prefer Barking Dog - it's my Indian name."

  Lucy shot me a glance that seemed to ask if we should say something about his name. I was curious, so I started, "How did . . ."

  He cut me off. Why did it always happen to me?

  "How did I get that name? I chose it. You see, I was born in New York and went to school there. Became a lawyer, made a lot of money. That's why I named myself Barking Dog - it reminds me of legal work."

  Lucy chuckled. She was relaxing at bit.

  "And then I got a call from the little town here on the rez where my Dad was born. It was my grandmother. She didn't have long, so I flew out here and arrived just in time to say goodbye."

  "I'm sorry," Lucy said.

  "No ma'am. Nothing to be sorry about. She led a good long life and the next day the robots went on their rampage. I'm happy she didn't live to see it."

  He paused, obviously remembering. "And then there was no way to get back, so I went native. Kind of felt good after a while. The others even elected me Chief."

  I put down the bottle in mid swallow. "Others?"

  "Yep, we've got our own little tribe going. They are mostly Hopi with some Navajo thrown in and a few who claim to be Apache. I'm not sure of that, but it doesn't really matter."

  Lucy asked, "How do you live? Don't the robot planes bomb you?"

  "So far they haven't because I don’t think they know where we are. We found a little valley with steep mountains on either side. It's full of trees and has a lake. You'd have to fly directly over and then be looking to see us, I think. The land is good there and we hunt and farm and get by pretty well. We even live in Teepees, can you imagine? We've got just about everything we need."

  I looked out over the endless landscape. Mountains were visible in the far distance to the north. I swallowed the last of the grape soda. It had been good.

  I looked at Lucy, half expecting Barking Dog to invite us to visit his Tribe. He sounded very hospitable.

  He sighed again. "I hate to bring up business while we're just getting to know each other, but it can't be helped. You've been riding on Indian land. You've got to pay a tax."

  His noises didn't change an iota, but Lucy's spiked. "Tax? What kind of tax?"

  "Horses. It's something we don't have enough of and these two look to be salvageable. Your tax is these two horses."

  In an instant Lucy stood up, the pistol in her hand.

  Barking Dog smiled broadly. "Good. You looked too smart not to be armed. But there's no reason to use that gun, Lucy. You'll pay the tax, but it'll be your choice. You see, it's completely voluntary.

  *.*.*

  I'll admit I was confused and Lucy's sounds indicated she was too. Barking Dog took three more sodas out of a bucket and opened them, offering two of them to us.

  "Have another one. They are good, aren't they? And go ahead and sit, I'm not armed and am no threat. In fact I'm going to do you a big favor. Just be careful with that gun, okay?"

  I got the drinks for us and we sat again. Lucy asked in a wary voice, "What kind of favor?"

  Barking Dog looked into the distance. "You are a lucky pair. I only come out here once in a great while when my wives and kids and the others get on my nerves. I think they enjoy a little break from me too, plus it does make for a nice reunion."

  "Wives?" said Lucy. I could hear something jump in her noises when he said that.

  "Yeah, Lucy, I've got three. The way things worked out we just ended up with more females than males. We're fixing that now though. So far, I've got three kids, two boys. I'll tell you a little secret. I think I love my little girl the best."

  He smiled broadly at the memory and noticed that Lucy was staring at him. "This paint? It's my second wife; she likes to play with it. Says it makes me look like a big chief."

  Lucy sat the gun in her lap and drank. "Like I said, you two are lucky that I was here. I never believed in God until I moved out here, but Indians believe in God and I'm an Indian. Did you know that? They believe that God is in the land and the sky and trees and water; that He makes things happen down here on earth. I wonder if God had me come here just to meet you. It would make sense."

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because maybe He's got something in store for you, and if we hadn't met in this place, you would be dead within a month."

  *.*.*

  I saw Lucy's hand move, the one not holding the bottle. For some reason, I wondered if she was going to cover her face with it or if it was going for the gun. Instead, she put it on her stomach.

  "You can't ride horses to Vegas this time of year. There a
re mountains ahead, tall ones. By the time you get there it'll be snowing in the high passes and there will be no food for the horses - or you. You'll end up eating them, but it won't be enough and you'll die."

  I couldn't help myself. I looked to the west but couldn't see those mountains. Still, I'd seen them on the road map but they didn't look deadly printed on a piece of paper. I knew he was telling us the truth.

  "And you can't go back either. You think it's been cold? Wait a week or two and you'll find out what cold is. The desert at night is an awful place. You can't find wood, everything is frozen, the plants that your horses ate before are now all dead. You will be too, if you try."

  I had a vision of Lucy, stick thin with a large stomach and hip bones protruding from hunger, dying of starvation. I stammered, "But . . . will you take us in? Let us spend the winter with your tribe?"

  She shot me a glance. I knew she would complain that I didn't consult her before asking this question, but I couldn't help it. That vision of her was just too awful.

  "No, I don't think so. We red men have been invaded twice now, once by whites and once by robots. Though I will admit that the first time my ancestors were Stone Age savages, killing each other just as efficiently as the whites ever did. Still, we are a bit sensitive about being invaded again. I'm sure you understand."

  I didn't, but he continued. "Besides, didn't I say you were lucky? You don't need to come live with us. Go ahead and finish your drinks and I'll show you the receipt I'm going to give you after you pay your tax."

  *.*.*

  The back of the gas station had a large door that could be raised to let cars into a mechanic's bay. A sign on it said, "Air Conditioner Recharging our Specialty!" It showed a woman blowing icy breath out her lips.