Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse (19 page)

“Use only that which works, and take it from
any place you can find it.”

― Bruce Lee

Atlanta:

Dr. Pavlov wasn’t a big fan of losing any of his mechanized
soldiers but it was the only way. A test, a mini war game was the best litmus
to find out if his new creation of Super Destroyers were as lethal as he’d
designed them to be. Simple really, he would pit one against the other. Old vs.
New: Ker vs. Super Destroyer: fighting for the heavyweight title.

He programed both to seek and destroy. Wired in, they both
were downloaded to hunt each other and fight to the death. Dr. Pavlov would
critique this duel in person, up close and in living color. Screen images
wouldn’t suffice. He wanted to witness the match first hand, sitting ringside
in the city streets of Atlanta.

Dr. Pavlov set his test in motion. Bristling with
excitement, the scientist watched the combatants storm out of the old CDC
building. He left his makeshift factory and hurried to the desolate arena.

Waiting for the combatants to appear, Dr. Pavlov stood
flanked by a garrison of protective Ker. Man and machine stood on the rooftop
of an Atlanta landmark. Interstate-75 was the battle ground and the top of the
old Varsity restaurant was the best seat in the house.

Any minute now
, he
thought after glancing at the time displayed on the top of his computer tablet.
He saw their images on the screen coming from opposite ends of the city, both
about to enter the
octagon
. Letting
the tablet hang down at his side, Dr. Pavlov looked up and fixed his gaze over
the interstate.

Pounding toward I-75, Seth Pavlov heard the heavyweight
contenders making their way. Guarding Dr. Pavlov’s from any Resistance monkeys,
Ker surrounded and towered atop the Varsity. Their electronic sounds scanning
and guarding the scientist as they gently moved around. They watched.

The old Ker model arrived at the arena first. Intentionally,
Dr. Pavlov gave it a head start. Peeking through driver’s glass, the Ker
crouched behind a cargo truck and waited to spring a trap.

Galloping like an iron horse of the apocalypse, the Super Destroyer
appeared after launching over a guardrail. It burst on the Interstate with
violence, crashing down. Dr. Pavlov felt the force of its weight, sending a
shock wave through the building underneath his feet. With the force of a
hunting T-Rex, it rippled the puddles and shook everything within a hundred
square yards.

With armored vertebrae erecting its torso, and multiple
extremities, the Super Destroyer looked like an insect rising on its back legs.
Gold and black arms stretched out. Its exotic metals reflected the sun when it
aimed a small launch tube eighty degrees up and pulled the trigger, firing a
recon probe to seek and find. The mini UAV spy probe hovered, gliding in the
air, transmitting information back to the Super Destroyer’s guidance system.
Got you bitch! Target acquired!

The Ker stayed hidden behind the vehicle, waiting to jump
out and shoot when the metal bug got closer.

As if it was reaching for a samurai sword, the Super
Destroyer clutched the railgun attached to its back, and pulled it over. Its
railgun was capable of firing six-pound missiles housed in its feeder at
hypersonic velocities of Mach 8. It was an improvement in performance from
when the U.S. Navy first tested such a weapon over a thousand years ago. Back
then, the Americans gave the weapon the motto, "Velocitas Eradico,"
Latin for "I, who am speed, eradicate."

Not wasting an inch on his new Super Destroyer’s design, Dr.
Pavlov engineered powerful-clawed hands on all six extremities. Like the two
that were planted and digging into Interstate-75 right now. Using its top set
of pinchers, it gripped the railgun, holding it tight. Adding another layer of
armor, the two mechanical
arms in the middle of
its body crossed over its abdomen, ready to swing into action when needed.

Whining sounds pulsed out over the battleground as the
railgun energized to full power. Now armed and ready to go! The Super Destroyer
dug in and fired. Missile projectiles raced out of its barrel at over eight
times the speed of sound.

Spitting out rounds like a flamethrower, the bug sent
missiles through layer after layer of vehicles that lined the Interstate in
front of the Ker. Sparks flew and steel lit ablaze. Vehicles launched, flying
airborne as if the boot of a Titan kicked them. The Ker remained in its hiding
spot and paid the piper for not moving clear. With the force of a wrecking
ball, the cargo truck whip smacked the Ker out of control.

Tumbling end over end, the Ker flew back while the vehicles
slid and twisted in masses of Swiss cheese. A four door landed on top of the
Ker and pinned it underneath. The air became quiet after the sound of the Super
Destroyer’s railgun hummed down.

Pinned on the ground, the trapped Ker positioned its hands
against the vehicle and bench-pressed it off its chest. Crashing through the
silence, the vehicle landed on its hood, and the older bot jumped to its feet.
It was ready to fight again. Erupting war noise, the Ker fired back with
precision, bouncing rounds off the massive bionic bug.

Dr. Pavlov armed the Ker with 30mm projectiles, similar to
what the Super Destroyer Bugs would have to go up against when they eventually
got the chance to invade RMB Pendleton.

Avoiding the tracer rounds and the bullets in between them,
the bug launched cars toward the Ker. Chunks of an overpass fell to earth and
the smell of destruction lingered over the interstate. The Ker stopped firing
as both combatants moved counter clockwise through the seven-year-old traffic
jam that littered the highway. Getting flat, it appeared to be even more bug
like as it stopped and lowered its body to the ground.

The Super Destroyer launched off all six legs and concrete
flew from the brutal force of its digging claws. Like a nuclear bullet train,
the bug shot forward intending to explode through and kill the outdated bot.
The Ker stood its ground and fired in a hailstorm of bullets being fed from its
interior ammo well. Empty casings showered out, breaking through the glass of
the vehicles as the deafening sound rang out over the barren interstate.

Wading through bullets, the Super Destroyer faced into the
wind of the Ker’s sighting system. The Ker perfectly placed each bullet against
the armor of the charging metal insect, bouncing off and ricocheting while it
kept coming. Dr. Pavlov programed the Super Destroyer to use its railgun only
once. The giant bug had the option of using hand-to-hand combat after one
attempt with the railgun – nothing else – that was it. Still holding its
ground, the Ker continued to fire at the unarmed insect.

“Ting!” a ricochet round hit one of the Ker guards that
stood next to Dr. Pavlov. Its body swayed and a respectable dent was now on its
chest. Like a disciplined soldier, it stood back to attention and resumed
watching, motionless. Nervously, the scientist realized that
maybe
, he was
too close to the action
.

Reaching the limits of how many consecutive rounds could be
dispensed from its cannon, the Ker continued to fire as heat poured out of its
barrel. The Super Destroyer’s body jolted from each shot as it flew through the
air on its final approach. The Ker continued to hold its ground, firing direct
hits on the airborne bug while the barrel of its gun glowed orange. Like a
mechanized barbarian, the insect was at the gate.

The Super Destroyer crashed into the Ker, sending them both
in an out-of-control skid, sparks flying as if they were meteors crashing
through earth’s atmosphere. Cars shot out and toppled over like bowling pins.
After leaving behind a deep rut scored into the concrete, they slid to a stop.
Pouring out heat, the air smelled like machine sex.

Mounting the lesser bot, the insect held the Ker down with
four arms. The massive bug grabbed the Ker by both wrists and sunk four alloy
clawed talons into its body. The new and improved killer held the Ker tighter,
ripping its arms out. Glancing in Dr. Pavlov’s direction, the Super Destroyer
tossed the Ker’s extremities aside. The arms landed with wires exposed and
fluids draining. Still looking on the rooftop of the old Varsity restaurant,
wanting validation, the insect paused for a second. Dr. Pavlov nodded with
approval.

The giant bug stood over the Ker as if it were a bird of
prey, holding its meal in its talons before it went back down to tear out more
flesh. Fighting helpless and armless, its electric blue eyes watched the insect
holding it down, the Ker was barely functional, only able to kick its legs. The
Super Destroyer gripped the bottom edges of the Ker’s Samurai helmet and
pulled.

The Ker was on life support after its head was torn off its
shoulders. After throwing the head on top of a car, the bug looked over toward
Dr. Pavlov again. With a deranged grin, the scientist golf clapped. A knockout.
It finished the job and won the belt by crushing the
Ker’s body between six clawed mitts, crushing it like a beer can after thirty
talons sunk in deep.

“All human males were as fascinated with cars as they were
with breasts.”

― Anita Clenney

North Carolina:

“This the place?” Clio asked.

Russ didn’t answer as his eyes scanned over the neighbor’s
house and yard. The place was quiet and Russ noticed the garage door was shut.

“He keeps it inside,” Russ said.

“What?” Clio asked, looking around.

“Gas.”

“Oh,” Clio responded.

“Got an old hot rod inside,” Russ said pointing with his eyes
toward the garage doors.

“What’s a hot rod?”

“It’s a car,” the old man responded.

Russ parked the truck after backing it in near the front of
the aluminum doors. “Stay inside the truck with Lady,” he ordered.

“I don’t wan…”

“Inside!” Russ ordered, pointing his finger down toward the
floorboard, stopping Clio before she could protest further.

“Ok,” she responded, dreading the thought of being left
alone.

Russ jumped out and locked the doors. Aiming, his rifle came
up and he slowly approached the front door. He could tell it wasn’t shut all
the way after he arrived at the top of the steps. Using his barrel, Russ pushed
it wide and paused as he heard it creaking open. Before he entered, the old man
looked around the yard behind him and then glanced at the truck.

“Anyone home?” he shouted, knowing damn good and well no one
was.
Not alive anyway
. His voice
bounced off the walls and he looked around before walking inside.

Russ halted in the center of the living room; he stood still
motionless and listened.
No reason to
stand here, get your ass moving Russ
, he prodded. Whether the owners were
dead or not, Russ felt creepy being inside someone else’s house, uninvited.

Russ used his high mileage legs to walk to the kitchen and
moved at a quick pace. Causing him to double take, something beneath his feet
caught his eye. Blood covered the kitchen floor and trailed over the tile
before leading outside through a mangled, back door. Something had bled
profusely and it had obviously been dragged out of the kitchen and through the
back yard. A crusty line was etched and doused in blood patterns similar to a
Rorschach test, leaving grim designs all over the outside deck’s pale wood.

Blood ran across the unstained deck and vanished off the end
of the patio.
Dragged them into the woods
,
Russ thought as he looked into the forest shadows beyond the back yard... The
old man continued gazing into the woods that hid the railroad tracks beyond
them; Russ pondered what the homeowner’s demise must have been like.

No way for a person to
go
, he thought, and then realized his loved ones must have gone in a
similar primal act. He shuttered, noticing a smashed window in the living room
that complemented the mangled patio door. Turning away with mind and body, he
quickly entered the garage.
Goddamn
things…

Clio kept her pistol gripped tightly, nudging close to Lady,
dreaming of shrinking to the size of a pea while waiting for Russ to hurry
back. She scanned through the windshield with her body tense. Frightened, she
jumped. “Rrrmmm.” The dull humming sound of the garage door opened behind her.
Clio whipped around and observed it roll up.

“You can get out now, Clio,” Russ shouted, knowing the girl
must have been frightened, waiting alone inside the truck.

Clio approached and Lady raced by her, sniffing at
everything inside the garage. A finch chirped as the girl entered behind the
dog.

Russ pointed outside as if he were an Irish setter,
rigid-armed. “Hey, cover your area… Remember what I taught you,” he said. “Keep
watch while I do this.”

Clio nodded and stood guard, remaining a few feet inside the
garage. She saw Russ’s shadow before he walked by her, going out to his truck.

“What’s that for?” Clio asked referring to the garden hose
the old man was carrying back with him.

“You’ll see,” Russ said.

The old man opened the gas cap on the Camaro that was parked
inside the garage. Other than for the thin layer of dust that covered its sheet
metal, it could still win first place in a car show.

“Never seen one like this,” Clio said drawing a C with her
fingertip, revealing the shiny paint that lay underneath the buildup. “It’s
cool.”

“Yeah… real cool... don’t make ‘em like this anymore,” Russ
announced as he slid the hose inside the car’s gas tank.

Clio watched as the old man put his lips to the hose as he
sucked and syphoned out the gas. The fuel began its journey through the rubber
tube while he continued to straw suck it through. Tasting it, Russ jerked the
hose out of his mouth coughing and spitting. Gas spilled onto the concrete deck
and stained it dark. The fuel’s puddle edges quickly shrunk inward,
evaporating. The old man continued spitting the burning petrol out of his mouth
and quickly slipped the end of the hose through a plastic gas container.
I’ve done that better before
, he
thought.

“That doesn’t look fun,” Clio said, grimacing and wondering
if gasoline tasted as bad as it smelled.

“You still watching!” Russ ordered pointing through the
opening.

Clio turned back around and faced the outside, continuing to
do her duty as she felt a gentle breeze across her skin, anxiously wanting to
get out of the confines of the garages cool shadows. She wanted to find her
mother.

Russ struggled under the weight of the full gas can as he
shuffled toward his truck. “Knock it off Lady,” he said as the dog sniffed the
can and almost tangled up in his feet. “Trying to kill me dog?”

39 minutes later:

Driving to RMB Jackson:

“So far so good,” Clio said. “Right?”

“So far so good young lady,” Russ answered as the trucks
suspension bounced along the side of the railroad tracks. There was enough room
to not have to drive on top of the rails so Russ drove below the tracks where
it was a bit smoother.

It was only a few miles to the RMB, but for Clio, they
couldn’t get there fast enough. “How much further?” Clio asked.

“Not much farther… should be close,” Russ answered.