World War Metal 1

by Jack Quaid

  Besides the ringing in her ears, everything was quiet. She flipped the shotgun over and slid a few more shells into it. “Do you think that was all of them?”

  Before the words had even left her lips she knew she was wrong. Out of the darkness, the red lights of battle droids emerged and there were a hell of a lot more than three.

  Twenty-Eight

  Three squads of battle droids responded to BD-37625’s distress call and now they surrounded the Virgin Megastore. Knox stepped out of the store very carefully with Sue following a couple of steps behind. Every battle droid on the street had a clean shot. One careless move that was too fast or too aggressive was all it would take for any one of them, or all of them, to open up fire. Knox’s steps were small and calculated. Sue’s were hesitant and shaky.

  One of the droids stepped forward. “CITIZEN. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON.”

  Knox held the MP80 at arm’s length. As if he were in slow motion, he gently put the machine gun on the ground before rising again.

  “CITIZEN. DO YOU SURRENDER AND WISH TO BE TAKEN INTO OUR CARE?”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Sue asked.

  “Just keep your mouth shut and stick to the plan,” Knox said out of the corner of his mouth.

  “CITIZEN. DO YOU SURRENDER AND WISH TO BE TAKEN INTO OUR CARE?”

  “Yes,” Knox said as he swallowed hard. “We do.”

  Shelby was two blocks away, out of breath and running as fast as she could. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder. The alley was clear. No droids on her tail. Knox had made her leave. She didn’t want to go but there was no time for arguing and when he outlined the plan in twenty seconds at a hundred miles an hour with swagger, he was very convincing. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Knox’s Plan

  Shelby was to sneak out the back door of the Virgin Megastore while Knox and Sue distracted them by surrendering peacefully.

  Shelby was to wait precisely fifteen minutes, which should give the droids enough time to do two things. 1) Load Knox and Sue up into the battle spider with the other prisoners, and 2) leave the immediate vicinity of the Virgin Megastore.

  At which point, Shelby is to return to their weapons, retrieve the EMP rocket launcher and proceed to fire on the spider until it is incapacitated and all the hostages are freed.

  That was the plan anyway.

  Ten minutes later when Shelby circled back around the block to the Virgin Megastore, she realized that things don’t always go to plan. The battle spider was gone and so were the three squads of combat-ready droids that had accompanied it. So the first two stages of the plan had gone off without a hitch. What they didn’t account for was the third part of Knox’s plan being flawed.

  When the droids left, they not only collected Knox and Sue, but all the crates of weapons that they’d commandeered from the truck as well.

  The droids were so efficient, they didn’t even leave dust.

  Shelby’s heart thumped. Panic washed over her. She kicked the side of the truck’s container. It hurt her foot and she screamed. “Damn it!” She drew a breath and leaned against the wall of the container and slid to the floor, putting her head in her hands.

  “Stupid plan,” she mumbled.

  That’s when she felt it. A slight tremor vibrating through the floor of the container. It faded away. Returned. Faded away. Returned. Footsteps. Battle spider footsteps. It was still close.

  Shelby climbed to her feet and ran out of the container and into the street.

  Morning was starting to break and the sky was turning blue. Shelby scanned the tops of the buildings for the battle spider but she couldn’t see anything.

  She felt another footstep reverberate through the concrete. It was lighter than the others. The battle spider was moving farther away with each step. Shelby spun around, looking at the skyline, searching for any little metallic glint or glimpse of the monster.

  Then she saw it. It was only for a brief second but it was there. The cannon on top of the battle spider poked through a gap between buildings five or six blocks away, and then it was gone again.

  Shelby smiled. Three steps later she was on her motorcycle. She reached back, tossed the heavy saddlebags to the ground and was about to drop the clutch when she saw three EMP grenades roll out. She paused, picked them up and clipped then onto her belt. Armed with those, her Remington shotgun, and a mixture of stupidity and guts, Shelby sped off down the street.

  She knew the general direction to head from the glimpse she’d seen and as she got closer, the sound of the battle spider’s feet thumping onto the concrete led her the rest of the way. She had a clear run on the roads and pushed her bike to its limits.

  After hammering around a corner she finally saw the battle spider. It was tearing down the street, leaving potholes in the concrete. She cut her speed by half.

  Now what? she thought. The original plan was to stand a block away, fire a rocket, save everybody, and be a hero. She had no rocket launcher, no plan and no idea what to do. With sixteen EMP shells and three grenades she was going to have to get closer, a lot closer, and then she saw her opening. A ten-story parking lot complex, half a block ahead of the battle spider.

  Shelby drew in a shaky breath and pulled back on the throttle. The rear tire chewed up rubber on the concrete but once it gained traction, her bike shot forward. She changed gears hard and fast and quickly caught up to the battle spider, speeding underneath it. She dodged a couple of its stomping feet and shot out the other side.

  There was no hiding now. The spider knew she was there and all its weapons took aim. A trail of machine gunfire chased her as she sped forward but when she moved out of range the gunfire ceased. Shelby figured its primary objective was to deliver the weapons; everything else was secondary.

  She hit the first ramp of the parking lot complex and sped around and around and around, up all ten stories, until she hit the roof. Shelby squeezed the brakes and did a one-eighty to face the street.

  The battle spider was close. Shelby could see the tip of its cannon bobbing up and down with its steps. She’d only have a small window to make the jump. Two or three seconds, tops. After that, it would be game over.

  She looked out over the edge of the building. “Damn you, Knox.”

  It was only a few days ago that she was last up on a rooftop, preparing to make the jump to another. Only three days ago that even after close to fifty attempts, she couldn’t muster up the guts to make the jump.

  The concrete structure of the parking lot shook as the battle spider neared.

  This was it, Shelby thought. The all or nothing moment. The Notting Hill moment where the girl lays her heart out for the boy. Except, with motorcycles and robots and stuff.

  Shelby backed up.

  Gripped the handlebars.

  Revved the engine.

  Dropped the clutch and the motorcycle blasted forward. There was no turning back. The bike was going over the edge one way or another. Shelby gave it more gas and before she knew it, she and the Harley cleared the edge of the roof and were flying through the air.

  Everything came at her in slow motion.

  The bike fell from between her legs. It was heavier than her and dropped first, leaving Shelby moving through the air with grace as her hair flowed out behind her.

  Then everything came at her in fast forward.

  The panic hit. She was ten stories high and coming down fast. The motorcycle hit the top of the battle spider first before disappearing over the edge.

  There was an explosion in the street.

  Shelby hit hard and immediately began to slide right over the edge, toward the same horrible fate as the Harley. She grabbed hold of a rubber cable. Her legs dangled over the edge and kicked for something to step on to. No matter how much she kicked there was nothing and it was in that moment that she knew all those hours in the gym had paid off. Her personal trainer always said she had good upper body strength. So with one hand after the other, Shelby pulled herself up with her arm
s and onto the top of the spider. She rolled onto her back and caught her breath. The adrenalin that blasted through her body settled, and she stumbled to her feet. The battle spider was still on the move and hitching a ride on its back was surprisingly stable.

  Shelby scanned the beast. “Where’s its brain?” she said aloud.

  Every kid had to study robotics in high school, but Shelby never paid any attention and only passed the mid-term because her teacher thought she was cute. She had a couple of regrets about that now.

  Smoke blasted out of the battle spider and dissipated into the morning sky. There were six exhaust pipes that ran along its back and every once in a while the mechanical system would push out black waste. Shelby ran over to a pipe and touched it—it was hot and she whipped her hand back. Then she stood on her toes and peered inside. There was nothing but darkness, but any which way she thought about it, those exhaust pipes would lead to the engine. Shelby didn’t need high school robotics to know that. Although, she thought, the class probably wouldn’t have hurt.

  She unclipped the three EMP grenades from her belt and one by one pulled the pins and dropped them down the pipes.

  For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. Then the battle droid suddenly stopped and shuddered. Shelby fell. It convulsed in sudden movements as if it were still trying to take steps forward but there was something holding it back. Each of its movements and jerks grew weaker and shorter until the entire machine failed to move altogether.

  Shelby picked herself up and shrugged. That was a bit too easy? she thought.

  And then it started to fall. Without any power, there was nothing holding up its legs and the battle spider came crashing to the street in a spectacular mess. It took out half a Kentucky Fried Chicken and kicked up a massive Black of dust, and for a couple of moments after it went down, was all that could be seen in the street.

  Twenty-Nine

  It wasn’t until after the dust cleared that there was movement from the carcass of the battle spider. From deep in its broken belly a sheet of metal was pushed aside. Out emerged Knox. He squinted into the sunlight and ran his fingers through his perfect hair; the crash had done nothing to affect it. He stepped aside, turned and thrust his arm back into the metallic darkness, then helped out a middle aged woman, who looked as if she had been though hell. She carried her shoes in her hands and was wearing what was probably still her dress from New Year’s Eve. Once she was clear of the wreckage, Knox helped out the next survivor, and the one after that, until there were forty souls standing on the sidewalk.

  Sue was the last one out of what was left of the battle spider and when he was clear of the thing he stood next to Knox.

  “Do you think she made it?” he asked, looking over the rubble.

  It was the biggest mess Knox had ever seen, and he’d seen and been the cause of a hell of a lot of messes in his time. Looking at this one, he wasn’t sure if Shelby had survived. Just as he turned away he heard a rustle of steel. Knox looked at Sue and they both looked at the battle spider and saw a hand reach out of a mound of wreckage. A mop of blond hair emerged and then Shelby pulled herself to her feet and stood on what was left of the battle spider’s head.

  “Did I miss anything?”

  Knox smiled. “Not much.”

  One of the refugees stepped forward and peered at Shelby.

  “Did you save us?” the refugee asked.

  Shelby nodded. “I guess I did.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Shelby Black. Fearless robot hunter.”

  Knox shook his head and turned to Sue. “She’s going to be impossible to live with now.”

  Thirty

  It took only three months for Shelby Black to become a legend. Her name was whispered in hushed tones by prisoners in captivity and those on the run. Whenever somebody was captured, they hoped Shelby Black would rescue them. Whenever somebody lost a loved one, they hoped Shelby Black would avenge them. Whenever people needed a hero to believe in, Shelby Black was it. She was the first person to take down a battle spider. Later on, there would be others. Armies would form, bombs would be dropped and battle spiders would fall all over the country. Nobody remembers the fifth, sixth or seventh battle spider that was destroyed. Everybody remembers the first, and the first was destroyed by Shelby Black sixty-two days after Y2K in Ames, Iowa.

  Despite the uprising, New York City was still the city that never slept. It was too vast, too complicated and too much in ruin for Tera Mach and her droid army to eradicate humans from it. Warfare raged for six weeks after New Year’s Eve, leaving the population diminished by ninety percent and the city in ruins. The Queensboro Bridge was down, the tunnels were flooded, and two days after they arrived in the Big Apple, Shelby and Knox found the head of the Statue of Liberty in the middle of Madison Avenue. How it got there was a mystery to Shelby and she doubted there was anyone left alive who would know. And yet there were still people living in the city. Pockets of them—tribes almost—congregated in Hell’s Kitchen, Chelsea, and down in the Village. They were a resistance of sorts, but they mostly stayed out of the way of the droid patrols and tried to survive.

  Old habits died hard. Those few who did venture out usually went to the same places they went to before everything turned to shit. The residents of Greenwich Village went to the Comedy Cellar. It was a basement bar, with a discrete door on McDougall Street that led down a series of stairs. Once you were down there the time of day didn’t matter, because inside the Comedy Cellar, it always felt like 4AM. Woody Allen played there, Robin Williams, Seinfeld and despite Y2K, The Comedy Cellar still put on an act each and every night; although the quality of the acts was believed to have diminished significantly. The place didn’t have much liquor left to sell, though, and what it did have on the shelves, the owner, Norm, traded for food or weapons.

  Tonight the Comedy Cellar was in between sets. The handful of people who were gathered at the bar hung off every word of Jerry Dimato, a droid mechanic from Asbury Park, New Jersey, who had just made it to the island to find his sister.

  “Fuckin’ craziest thing I’d ever seen. Crazy, I tell yer, and I’ve seen some crazy shit,” Jerry said. “Three days ago I’m passing through Central Park with a bunch of people heading back to their apartment on 82nd because they heard the city was safe.” Jerry shook his head and laughed. “We’re walking through the park and it’s beautiful, fuckin’ beautiful. Like nothing had ever happened. Then I hear something behind me. At first I don’t think nothing of it, because I’m like all relaxed and shit from the walk. But then I hear it again and I turn around. You know what I saw?”

  Everybody leaned in.

  “Battle droids. A whole squad of them. And what did they want?” Jerry shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “They wanted us to go with them, but I don’t take orders from no toaster, so I give them the middle finger and say, ‘Sit and spin.’ Because I know it’s over, it’s all over, and I don’t take no orders from no toasters. They aim their weapons, but before they can put an end to Jerry Dimato, out of nowhere this tank skids across the grass and there she was sitting right on top with her long blond hair and the biggest machine gun I’ve ever seen.”

  “Who?” the crowd asked.

  “Shelby Black.”

  “Shelby Black?”

  “Yes, Shelby Black,” Jerry said, louder now.

  “The model?”

  “Yes. I remember her name because she’s a eight on my finger scale.”

  “What the hell is a finger scale?” Norm asked.

  “How many fingers I’d cut off to bang her.”

  Norm’s face scrunched up. “That’s extreme,” he said to nobody in particular.

  “She opens up. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. And when she’s done, there isn’t a toaster left alive.”

  Everybody sat back to take in the story. Everybody except the two people sitting in a booth at the rear of the bar nursing a couple of drinks. One glanced at the red beep on her wristwatch
, one had an eye patch over his left eye. Neither of them were there for the comedy.

  “It wasn’t a tank,” Knox said. “It was an old Ford Pinto.”

  “I know.”

  “There were only five janitor-bots. They didn’t even have any firearms.”

  “I know.”

  “And Jerry wasn’t even there.”

  “There’s no need to let the truth get in the way of a good story,” Shelby said. “Do you think I need a catch phrase?”

  “For what?”

  “For after I do something cool? Like, just say I save somebody, and just before I blow the droid away, I say something cool. Like ‘hasta la vista’ or ‘you’ve just been blacked out?’”

  “No,” Knox said, “I don’t think you need a catch phrase.”

  Shelby glanced at her watch. They’d been there an hour and Knox would lay a hundred to one bet that she’d been looking at her watch for fifty-nine minutes of that time.

  “Relax,” he said.

  Shelby sighed. “This guy is late.”

  “No he’s not. We’re early. Sit there, have a drink and just be cool.”

  “I don’t want a drink.”

  “Then just sit there and be cool.”

  Shelby leaned back into the vinyl seat and drew a breath. Knox was right, she wasn’t cool. She was very far from being verycool. It’d taken them months to travel from Los Angeles all the way to New York. In that time they’d encountered groups of gun-toting soccer moms armed to the teeth, a rollerblade road gang that ruled the highways like a 90s era, exercise-fueled Mad Max. Not to mention they’d destroyed more droids than Shelby bothered to count. Now that they were as close as they’d ever been to finding Axel, Shelby was beginning to lose her cool.