by Brian Cody
“Why not just hit my head with a car”, Bryen grumbled as he held Erik’s side.
“Yeah, the acceleration’ll_”—Erik was jerked as his flames, for a second, dispersed before tightening again.
“What?” Bryen grunted as Erik descended beside a rooftop and then rose past another.
“Sorry, I’m a little exhaust_” Erik grunted as his flames dispersed and sent them in a second-length descent. He closed his eyes and kicked off, reinstating his blaze and continuing in a more tremulous passage.
***
“Thirty more seconds”, David proclaimed as he sat along the roadside and reclined against a concrete slab long enough for him Nate, Turrisi, and Shawn.
“Piekarsky, you said that five minutes ago”, Turrisi called, “just give your body a break; everyone’s exhausted. There’s not much we can do right now but hope Erik’s getting the job done.” Turrisi removed and lobbed his empty gun harness.
“Thanks, mom”, David groaned as he grabbed a rock large enough to cover his waist and dropped it to his side.
“Hey, man, I’m just telling the truth”, Turrisi replied, while a diminished roar moved overhead. Those four turned their heads, squeezed their fists, and prepared to leap for what was assumed to be another assailer. As they looked skyward, a line of flames darted into view before, in a coughing spurt, diverting towards the far end of the road. They sighed, one by one, as Erik and Bryen became more discernible amidst that slithering trail, and, as Erik plunged, they relaxed and faced forward. Erik landed thirty feet from them and then stumbled the moment his feet contacted. With Bryen, he rolled for the remainder of the distance before slowing on his back and gasping. Next to him, Bryen pulled himself to his knees, stood, and ambled towards the group. Erik followed as he pulled his sword closer to his side and crawled to his feet, his body tilting rightward and a light grin cutting across his face as he walked up to that group, took the open space beside David, and collapsed. Bryen, to Erik’s right, knelt and rested on his knees before rearing backwards and extending his legs.
For the next minute, none spoke. They stared, some shifting their arms and legs, and others trying to wipe away the soot and blood along their faces. Shawn coughed and then wiped blood from his teeth, Nate pulled a mite of glass from his hair, and Erik examined his scabbard and located three tears on its face. Then, Erik, after lowering his katana, leaned, swiped his hair back, and said, “So, it looks like you guys won.”
“Ya think?” Nate muttered.
“Yeah, we did”, Turrisi replied. “I see you guys won…I guess.”
“Yeah…uh…yeah, we did”, Erik replied with a slow nod before leaning back. As Erik reclined, David tilted to look past Erik and to Bryen, whose head was bowed and whose eyes were widened as he glared at his right hand, and, every two seconds, opened and closed his fist.
“You good, B?”
Bryen shot his head up and spun to David while exhaling. He then lowered his right hand and gasped. “Word.”
“We thought we lost you there, bud”, Shawn called.
“Had Piekarsky wailing like a four-year-old”, Nate remarked. “‘Without B-money, who’s going to help me pick out shirts?’”
“Shut up, Klinge”, David sighed. David then grabbed the slab of stone between himself and Erik and dropped it into Nate’s lap.
Nate groaned as he felt the added weight against his legs. “Ow”, he moaned as he nudged the stone, but stopped and groaned again as he found the outstretching of his arms to produce an additional burn. “D*** it”, he groaned as he shifted his legs and leaned back.
“Klinge”, David sighed. “…Never mind; that’s your freebie for the day.” David motioned his hand into his left pocket. “I guess this would be a good time to call Clare”, he stated as he pulled his hand out and opened it to reveal a mass of melted and pulverized parts. “…I guess I’ll borrow someone’s later…”
“Shawn, I’m going to assume you’re not telling your parents about this”, Turrisi asked.
“I’m going to assume no one except us and the government will know about this”, Erik added.
“You think we’ll go to jail?” Shawn asked.
“For saving the city, looking robot-death in the eyes, and then rippin’ its arm off?” Nate asked. “If anything, we should be getting tax-free, seven-digit wages; and they should make us all Sixes in CORGI.”
“I don’t want to be watched for the rest of my life because I’m deemed a living WMD”, Erik noted.
“I don’t have powers. I’d be fine with a four-and-a-half”, Turrisi replied.
“Fifty-four”, Bryen barked as he looked skyward.
“You mean you want a ‘five-point-four’?” Shawn asked.
“No”, Bryen groaned as he swiped his left down his face. “Fifty-four—I have fifty-four acts of law enforcement.”
“Wait”, Turrisi grunted as he looked to Bryen. “Your CORGI says fifty. Are you sure?”
“…Yeah”, Bryen murmured. “After my tenth act, it became a big deal, and I kept count of every time I went out and did something. I had a written tally and everything…”
“That’s…surprising”, Turrisi replied, “I didn’t think CORGI was ever off by more than one.”
“Apparently it was”, Bryen replied.
“Well, what does that bring your wins up to?” Erik asked, “Forty; forty-two?”
“Still thirty-eight”, Bryen replied as he squeezed his right.
“Ouch; four losses?” David asked.
“Three of them in a row”, Bryen continued as he closed his eyes. “I guess…it’s why I stopped and started looking at out-of-state colleges…”
“Well, you know what, B-money?” Shawn called. “I say we’re all gonna go by CORGI’s number; for all we know, you still have a C-average.”
“Hear, hear”, Erik proclaimed.
“I’m fine with C’s”, Bryen replied as he opened his eyes.
There was a shorter pause as everyone shifted their weights and adjusted their postures, while their minds put aside the thoughts of mortality that had been the only matters on which they had concentrated.
“What do we do now?” Turrisi asked.
“I’m still really hungry”, Erik remarked. “Let’s go get some food; maybe break into a vending machine or something.”
“Uh!” David grunted as he flung his head back. “How badly do I want Chick-Fillet right now?”
“Piekarsky, it’s Sunday”, Nate replied as he rolled his eyes. “No, no, wait!” he barked as he looked around. “Today’s Monday! We’ve…! We’ve been up since…Sunday…” Nate paused, his ecstatic visage proving ethereal, his wonderment morphing into sobering amazement, and his grin sinking into a pale grimace, “Since Sunday morning… I think I’m tired.”
“What are the odds of it even being open?” Turrisi asked. “I’m assuming all of Virginia is in a state of emergency, and Lynchburg has pretty much been evacuated.”
“What are the odds of it even being intact?” Bryen asked. “The shrapnel radius from the giant robot’s mace-swings probably intersects with main campus.”
“It has to be intact”, David replied, “it’s God’s fast food. That settles it; we’re going to Chick-Fillet. Who’s going to take the plunge and stand up first…?”
***
“So you threw it over Igneous?” Erik asked as he walked behind David and as the group meandered down Park Avenue in a disorganized and cluttered formation.
“Yeah, it was Shawn’s idea”, David replied.
“Hold up!” Shawn called as he pushed off to jog parallel with Erik, but slowed as he felt his legs burn. “He threw it on the other side of the mountain.”
“Aren’t there a few houses on that side?” Erik asked.
“Don’t worry; if any are damaged, we’ll rebuild them”, David replied.
“You can’t rebuild people”, Turrisi whispered as he walked in the front of the group. “Oh wait”, he called as he looked to the green vehicle parked
alongside of the street. “Piekarsky it’s your car, and_” he paused as he looked to a mass of debris layering the corner which sat twenty feet from the vehicle. “It’s not damaged.”
“There’s something holding that slab up”, Bryen remarked as he pointed to a rectangular mass several yards in width which was elevated by almost a foot.
“Is it a person? Or a robot maybe?” David asked.
“No, it’s…our helmets”, Bryen answered as they halted in front of the slab.
“Wait, are you serious?” Erik asked as he bowed to look into the artificial crevice, “huh, it is our helmets; they’re intact.”
“Let me see”, Shawn called as he jogged up to them, knelt, and pushed against the slab; after several seconds of groaning effort, David pushed beside him, and the two, after moments more, nudged that rocky mass off of the helmets. “They’re all in one piece”, Shawn called as he lifted each helmet, turned, and tossed the items to each corresponding individual.
“Maybe we should’ve worn these”, Erik suggested as he looked inside of his headgear, “you know, to prevent one or two of the concussions experienced today.”
“I still don’t know about that”, Nate remarked as he dropped his helmet over his head, “hey, the visor’s only tinted on the outside”, he spoke, his voice blasting as a distorted groan.
“Your voice sounds funny!” David laughed as he pointed at Nate.
“Mine has a switch!” Turrisi exclaimed as he maneuvered his left hand into his helmet, his voice bearing an identical alteration to Nate’s. A click sounded, and was succeeded by a light zoom as he lowered his hand and then looked around. “Whoa”, he hummed, “this thing’s got a built-in targeting system!”
“Mine doesn’t have a targeting system”, Bryen groaned as he looked around, “but my vision really isn’t that impeded.”
“Okay, we can all conclude that we should’ve worn our helmets”, Erik proclaimed.
“I want to wear mine now”, David began as he turned to his Escape.
“We totally look like astronauts!” Turrisi exclaimed.
“Because we pretty much are astronauts”, Nate replied, “robot-killing astronauts!”
“Shouldn’t we just drive?” Bryen called as David closed his trunk and stepped to the group with helmet in hand.
“I’m out of gas, and I’m not paying”, David replied as he dropped his helmet onto his head, “I’m already going to pay for a dozen buildings, and_” David paused and reared back, “whoa, my voice sounds awesome! All right; to Chick-Fillet.”
“So then we’re walking?” Shawn asked.
“I’m not repeating myself”, David replied, “plus, I have to pee, and I don’t want to go in my car. Does anyone else have to pee?”
“Yes”, the other five groaned.
Another ten minutes passed before they stopped and, sighting nearing vehicles, spread apart to form a straight line in the road. Speeding towards them in triangular formations were a dozen Humvees, with half of the vehicles bearing artillery—rocket launchers and machine guns—on to their hoods or trunks. A honk from the lead vehicle, a topless automobile holding six individuals, and then the gradual rise of one of the occupants from the front seat caused them to concentrate upon David Lamback’s jean-wearing, sunglass-covered, and hat-adorned form. Lamback waved, and the convoy decelerated from its forty-mile-per-hour race and then, after ten seconds, slowed to thirty feet from the group.
Lamback flung himself from the Humvee’s side and dropped onto the road before jogging to the six. “Do I even want to ask?” he began as he stopped.
“Yes”, David replied.
“The robots?” Lamback continued.
“All accounted for”, Erik replied.
“And you said you brought down the jet?”
“Yep”, they replied.
“O-kay; so, I’m going to need a more detailed debriefing, but seeing that y’all are alive, and you’re saying that there’s really nothing else to worry about…I don’t know, thanks, I guess… What were y’all doing anyway; walking aimlessly?”
“Well”, David began as he scratched the side of his helmet, “we were heading to Chick-Fillet on Wards, but…I don’t know if any of us have the strength to keep walking. You know, with having risked life and limb to save this marvelous city_”
“Do you guys want a ride?” Lamback groaned.
“What? A ride? Well, we certainly don’t want to take up the army’s time”, David replied.
“The Army National Guard”, Lamback corrected.
“Well, we certainly don’t want to take up the_”
“Let’s go”, Lamback interjected. He jogged to the vehicles and hopped into the lead vehicle to relay orders.
“I call the Humvee with the missiles on it”, Erik yelled.
“No!” Lamback yelled back.
***
After twenty minutes of pushing past police barricades, swerving around masses of debris, and maneuvering through roads clogged with hundreds of empty vehicles, two of the Humvees pressed onto the beginning of Wards Road. As the six scanned the road from the second vehicle, they found additional parked cars with some battered and scratched from accidents during the preceding rush. Forming checkpoints along that road in hundred-yard gaps were police and SWAT vehicles with officers armed and standing over their hoods.
The six looked to the right, a mile towards the southwest, and sighted a plume of smoke rising over the landscape, while the sirens of emergency vehicles emanated from around that location. They then looked to the left, across the grassy median and towards the arboreal-concealed stretch of their college campus, finding no signs of destruction; yet, as they looked back to the skyscraping battlefield—from there, no more than a mile off—the possibility of damage via the colossus’s attacks or from the many explosive blasts that had occurred during those early hours remained in mind.
After passing by the hilltop entrance to Igneous’s campus and the two campus police cruisers parked in front of it, the two Humvees continued for thirty seconds before turning onto the small road between the Shultz and the Chick-Fillet and then swerving into the fast food restaurant’s lot. The interior sat unlit, the parking lot was empty save for two cars, and, as those six emptied from the Humvee’s back doors and ambled towards the front entrance, they sighted a fissure across the roof, a foot in width; one of the glass panes lining the structure’s left side was cracked to the point of opacity; and the odor of burning metal filled the air.
“It looks like something crashed into it”, Bryen noted.
“Shrapnel more than likely”, Lamback replied as he opened the front entrance. “A lot of debris started crashing around this area about two hours ago; we had to push the evacuation back another mile.”
“Is it even open?” Shawn asked.
“It has to be; it’s almost eight”, David replied as he stepped into the glass lobby. “They’re just conserving power.” He opened the interior door and stepped into the restaurant. Scattering and then moving along either side of the seating area, the group meandered towards the front counter. There appeared no personnel in the store, but, as they thought, the entrance was unlocked and, even through their helmets, they could smell the aroma of fried poultry. They stopped a yard from the nearest register and then scanned the area, listening for possible motions and looking to the kitchen to locate hiding places. “Hello?”
“It was my pleasure!” a middle-aged man, with an average gut, the beginnings of balding hair along his scalp, tan eyes, and dressed in a dark blue shirt and black pants, bellowed as he lifted a pump-action shotgun, aimed at the group of seven, and pulled. The ejection sounded with earsplitting force, and the launching of that round, from close proximity, moved with speeds too celeritous for the majority of those to react to. The round impacted in the center of Nate’s mask before ricocheting and stabbing into an adjoining wall. Nate toppled, and the remainder of the group jumped away, while the man emptied his spent round and lifted his shotgun once mor
e.
“Whoa!” Shawn bellowed as he lifted his arms and jumped back, his rearward lunge jostling Lamback.
“I told you someone would have a gun”, Erik sighed. “Nate, you owe me five bucks.”
“Whoa, whoa!” David called as he stepped, with the man spinning to him and wrapping his finger around the trigger. “We’re not robots—we swear!”
“Robots?” the man grunted.
“He meant ‘terrorists’!” Lamback barked as he stepped around Shawn. “We’re not terrorists; we’re with the National Guard, sort of.”
“Huh”, the man replied, “Well, I apologize for shooting your friend, but you did not give proper, verbal warning. I treat this restaurant like my home; and last I checked, Virginia’s gun laws were working in my favor.”
“It’s okay, he’s not dead”, David replied as he looked to Nate rolling along the floor with a scuff across his visor. “You dead, Klinge?”
“‘Klinge’ is his codename!” Lamback barked.
“S***”, Nate groaned as he rolled to his knees. He turned to David to expect some form of chastisement, but David looked away. The distortion messes with enunciation…nice!
“So”, the man stepped back and lowered his gun, “what are you doing here? We’re technically not open.”
“Would we be able to order lunch anyways?” David asked as he tilted his head.
“…Might as well; I just shot your friend in the face.” The man stepped to the kitchen, but paused, “right, also, our secondary fryer is down due to a bolide puncturing the roof. I can’t make waffle-fries.”
Those six moaned, and their moans, amplified by their helmets, resounded as a bellow. “Is it even worth it now?” David mumbled.
“Hey, we said we wanted Chick-Fillet, it’s not Sunday, and I almost just died more than once!” Shawn exclaimed. “I bet this is another time of testing, and, I bet, just like the last few hours, we’ll get through! I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting a chicken sandwich; maybe two.”
“Okay, but how are we paying for this?” Bryen asked. Another moan rolled from the six but then rose into a hum as they looked to Lamback.
