Chapter 23 “Liar.”

A week later, Virgil left on his next expedition, headed north.

Concrete stretched out for miles. Burnt out husks of buildings marked out vague patterns. Some of them looked like a strong wind might bring them down. Each step made the contorted ruins on the horizon grow larger.

The city had taken decades to build. In less than twenty years it had fallen to ruin. Fires that burnt unabated gutted entire blocks. Tremors broke foundations, twisting the buildings above. Some had fallen into one another, blocking out the sun. The whole place seemed darker than the world around it.

Of those that had ventured here, none were eager to return. Despite the potential salvage it held. As he walked he saw department stores, office blocks, coffee shops. The odd one somehow preserved like a museum exhibit. As he turned a corner, the street felt familiar.

He crouched and wiped away the grime with his gloved hand. Through the glass he saw a bar he remembered, and couldn’t resist a little detour.

Rubble blocked the alley way that led to the entrance. Virgil held his metal hand to the glass and triggered the spike housed within. Glass shattered and fell, he kicked out the shards and slid in.

The place sprang to life as he stood. People chattering, music playing, bright and full of life. He made it to the bar before the delusion vanished. “Service was always slow.” He quipped as he grabbed a bottle from behind the bar.

He stayed for an hour, took a few notes on what might be worth salvaging, then left. He covered the broken window with debris and started walking again.

He took three steps before a bottle shattered in front of him. “Hands up bitch!” A man yelled from behind him, followed by sneering laughter. He turned with his hands raised, seeing a group of people. Dirty, twitching and armed to the teeth. Bearing down on him like a pack of wild animals.

“It’s a rotter.” The leader swaggered closer.

“Waste it man! Kill it, kill it!” A woman from the pack added, speaking faster than normal.

“Fuck you.” Virgil snarled back. Between his unbreakable bones and inhuman tolerance for pain, he had options.

“It speaks.” The leader drew a shotgun and cocked it to the delight of the others. “Any last wor—” A small circle of blood appeared between the leader’s eyes. Fractions of a second before the back of his head exploded. Flecks of bone and grey matter dotted the cone of vivid red spatter. The leader dropped like a puppet cut from the strings.

No one moved for what seemed longer than a few seconds. Suddenly members of the pack started dropping. Some ran, some fired pointlessly at the ruins. It didn’t make any difference. Within a matter of seconds the pack of raiders laid dead, strewn around like pins hit by a bowling ball.

Virgil didn’t move. He knew enough about snipers to deduce three things. First, there had to be at least a few of them. Second, they were very, very good. And third, he was only alive because they wanted it that way.

After a minute, he took a step to the right, hoping to make it into cover behind a car. A bullet skipped off the ground, inches from him. “Alright! Relax.” He yelled up into the ruins, then sat and lit a cigarette.

He sat cross legged, waiting. A dark figure approached him, their shape obscured by a hooded cloak, face hidden by shadow.

“Name.” The figure demanded. He thought he heard the telltale rasp of a ghoul but couldn’t be sure.

“Look, I strayed into your turf, you let me wal—” Another bullet struck the ground, this time closer to him.

“Name.” The figure demanded.

“Virgil Nash.” He answered.

“Liar.” A near identical figure spoke from behind him, a certainty and anger hidden in the neutral tone. He looked round to see two more figures surrounding him, appearing as if from nowhere. Virgil began to panic.

“Name.” The figure in front of him demanded again.

“I have id, my back pocket. Only I ain’t that pretty no more.” He tried to draw one close to him.

“Liar.” Came from one behind him.

“Your biometrics...” Came from one on his right.

“...Tell the truth.” Came from one on his left. As if they somehow shared a voice.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“Who are you?” He asked, seeing a total of eight figures encircling him.

“We don’t remember…” The voice came from another. “Our names. We are one...” The voice bounced across again. “And many now.”

The figure in front of him crouched, pulling back the hood and taking off a balaclava. Radiation ravaged flesh had fused with circuity along the temples and scalp. Eyes had rotted away, leaving hair thin wires in the shape of an iris. The figure slipped their left arm from under the cloak, revealing it to be cut off from the elbow.

“Dear God no.” He knew who they were. The children. “I swear to you, I thought you were dead. I would have done something.”

“We were in virtual…” The voice shifted. “When our brothers and sisters…”

“Died.” They spoke as one.

“When the power went out...the devices took over...and we were...trapped. Running urban infiltration… and elimination drills...over and over.” All emotion had gone from their shared voice. “As the...change...took hold...we began to...forget and remember...things.”

“The neural transmitters from the vr headsets made contact with the conductive nanofilament around your bones.” He tried to explain, if only to help him understand. “I didn’t think, it wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

“The machines...saved us...we...spoke to them...over the network...they cut us...free...gave us their eyes.” He saw the round lens hanging from their necks like a pendant. “We climbed...through vents...we found you…the change had...taken hold...you would not wake.”

“I was in a coma. I swear the telemetry showed no life signs, the explosion must have blocked the signal.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt any of you.”

“Empires require sacrifice, Burton.” Perfectly polished wingtips appeared next to the scuffed army boots. It took everything he had not to tear Mr. House apart.

“I can’t make you whole again, but I swear to God I will help you any way I can. Or, you put a rifle under my chin and pull the trigger. That’ll get it done.” He tilted his head back, took one last glimpse at the darkening sky, and closed his eyes.

“We do not want...vengeance...we want to...keep people...safe.” He looked at the figures around him in awe. Everything had been taken from them. Their childhood, their bodies, their individuality. Who they were and who they might have been. Still their desire to help remained. It humbled him.

“To the south there’s a tower, people live there, hundreds of them. I, we, are building something. Please, come with me.” He begged them to leave this place. They stood around him like statues, silently communicating with each other.

“We...will...follow.” They gave their answer.

“I have to go north first, get what I came out here for.” He couldn’t bring himself to ask for their help. “Just go south, find the tower. Tell them Virgil sent you.”

“We...will...follow.” They melted back into the shadows.

Virgil walked through the night. His companions followed, sometimes close by, but mostly at a distance. He got the feeling of being surrounded, more so when he couldn’t see them.

“This is it.” He peered through his binoculars from the treeline. A dozen hangars and outbuildings. All behind a double mesh fence, topped with razor wire, and surrounded with land mines. “It’s an old military supply depot. I should be able to find what I need here. It won’t take long, then we can go home.” He looked at the figures around him, knowing home meant nothing to them.

“Hold.” A raised fist stopped him moving. “A machine...it...will not...listen.” He peered through the binoculars at the gate, and saw what they meant.

“Sentry bot, mark two. Don’t worry, it’ll listen to me.” Virgil dropped his gun belt and emptied his pack, just to be sure.

“You know that thing can cut you in two from this range.” Shaw walked next to him as he crossed the open ground.

“Given I fucking designed them, yeah.” Virgil didn’t want to hear from Shaw. He just kept walking with his arms raised, till the red light hit him.

“Area restricted. Identify.” The low, synthesised voice growled, guns trained.

“Blake, Burton. You cannot hope to build a better world without improving the individuals.” He spoke the quote he’d chosen as a password in another life. Now it hurt him so much to say he almost wanted the bot to open fire.

Instead he waited while the bot processed his password, hoping the rasp in his voice wouldn’t throw off the scan. “Identify confirmed.” The light flashed green for a moment, then back to red, and the bot trundled away. He waved to signal the all clear, but no one came forward.

The depot had been abandoned. Thick grime on the windows. Weeds and grass pushing through cracks in the concrete. He’d been here once before, glad handing some officer to get his shipments moved faster. He found the captain’s office on the second floor of the control tower.

“You stole my logins.” Shaw appeared on the other side of the desk.

“Fuck you.” Virgil keyed in the stolen password, bypassing the military encryption. “You’re fucking lucky you’re dead because I’d kill you for what you did to them.” He could hardly write down the information from the screen.

“What I did?!” The pencil snapped in Virgil’s hand as he lunged over the desk at an empty chair. He landed in a heap on the opposite side, still seething with anger.

The computer led him to a warehouse, practically fully stocked. The files showed enough weapons and gear for a division. What he needed sat in a fenced off section.

He used the spark between the claws to melt the chain links and peel back the fencing. Virgil rubbed the dust from a wooden crate, seeing what he’d come all this way for. Stencilled in yellow, the words high explosives.

Virgil heaved the pack on to his back, stuffed with slabs of plastic explosive. He stepped outside to see three of his travelling companions freshly kitted out. Each with a high end sniper rifle, sidearm, and bags.

“We are ready.” One of the figures said.

“Good, I need a minute with the bot, we’ll be home this time tomorrow.” He smiled, wondering how they got inside.

“What will you...tell them…about...us?” Virgil felt a pain he didn’t know he still could. They knew how far from normal they were.

“The truth. That I did this to you, that I’m responsible, and that I’m going to help you.” He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even fully understand what had happened, or how.

“We do not...blame...you.” He sensed conflict in their response. “We...will...follow.”