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The door to the garage remained open, dead ahead. As they approached, the whirl of a diesel engine filled the hall accompanied by a heavy gait of mechanical footsteps.
A grotesque metal animal claw came into view, attached to the chassis of another heavyset, elongated forest animal caricature. Twin bulbous eyes turned red as Germaine and Soto came into view.
“The Devereaux World Futureplex and World of Tomorrow is closed for corporate restructuring,” it said. “Employees only. Please come with me to the nearest security station.”
The creature advanced. Bipedal, with arms wide enough to grab them both. The way was blocked. The hands themselves were goofy things, overlarge gloves really.
Germaine fired from the hip. Four shots rang out, two of which shattered the bulbous red eyes. A wheeze from imploding vacuum tubes hissed from the bulbs as the red glow died down. But the automaton advanced.
“Vandalism of company property will be tried by corporate jury per article 18-B of Florida concession statue and punishable by up to three years in Devereaux World Prison of the Future Oubliette.”
“Damn.” Germaine reloaded. “I was hoping to hit his voicebox.”
The creature’s arms stretched out, filling the chamber. The pair could only retreat so far; the end of the hall was mere meters away, and the server room was another dead end.
Out of options, Soto rushed forward and tackled the creature. He gave it a shove like a linebacker would the forward line. The automaton toppled onto its back.
“Self-righting mechanism disabled. Be a good park goer and give your helpful animatronic guide a hand.”
No such help would be given, and the pair hopped over the creature.
“With a head that big, its center of gravity had to be off.” Soto caught his breath before continuing. “They’re heavy, but tip them over and momentum does the rest.”
“Punch them in the face. Run before they can self-right. Got it.”
More mechanical chatter came from the maintenance room. The pair made sure to close and barricade the door behind them. Beyond, an eerie silence had settled over the garage.
“Not even an echo,” Germaine said, and prepped his gun again.
The pair hugged the wall as they retraced their route. Just as they rounded the corner, Soto threw his hand up.
“Something new.”
Now a three-armed automaton stood sentry over the stairwell. Gone were the repurposed mascot features in place of pure blocky utilitarianism. It would be a mistake to describe the automaton as having a “head” so much as a bundle of sensors.
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Two back legs were fused together into a single mop-like limb that glided along the floor. The two front “arms” were segmented off into three long claws each, with which the automaton pulled itself along the floor.
“Must be what busted that door down,” Germaine said.
Red lights appeared on eight of the creature’s sensor nodes. The drum-like head swiveled in their direction. They could make out where the utility-minded sweeper drones had been modified for… law enforcement purposes? Security?
They’re slower to respond to sound, Germaine recalled.
Germaine opened a pouch on Soto’s back. Inside was a canned meal-ready-to-eat. One of the rations they didn’t get to on the plane. An overhead chuck sent the can flying behind mothballed trucks. Sure enough, the sentry turned to investigate this new sound.
The censors covered a full three-hundred sixty-degree area on each side of the drum. Germaine and Soto waited until the automaton was safely behind the trucks before sneaking forward at a crawl.
While the pair moved as quietly as possible, Soto tripped when his boot accidentally landed in a residue trail of slime the sentry left behind. Though little sound was made, the sentry turned around and retraced its path.
“Run,” Germaine said. “And hope these things can’t climb up stairs.”
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The sentries could, in fact, climb stairs. They were slowed, loping at an off-balance gait up each step, but they were not stopped.
Two more sentries caught on to the acidic footprint that had traced their steps ever since the garage. The sentries followed in a straight line, one after the other, directly tracing their path. Pinprick-thin claw-tips skittered on the floor, pulling the sentries forward.
The sentries themselves were not fast enough to reach them so long as they kept a brisk pace. But it made dodging the larger, visual-based auto-mechanicals virtually impossible.
“Dan, Dan. C’mon out. We’re going to make a run for the monorail!” Soto said.
Germaine looked behind them. They were booking it, even with the occasional stumble and delay, and were leaving the bots in the dust.
“Starting to think these things work on Scooby Doo logic,” Germaine said. “They’re more for intimidation than proper security.”
Scary though they were, to truly lock the compound down a physical human security team would be necessary.
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“Keep it down,” Dan said via radio. “They’re swarming the ice cream buffet.”
There was a whirl of acid sweeps, audible over the radio and echoed one street over.
An alleyway proved a tight squeeze -- too narrow for their pursuers to follow. The ice cream parlor was just across the street and to the right. They were almost there! All the while the whirring sound over their radio became mixed in with unintelligible screams. If they could just round the corner…
They arrived to find four acid-bots spraying down a drooping, melted air vent. The radio crackled.
“Dan? Dan!?,” Germaine said into the radio
Soto grabbed Germaine on the shoulder, hard.
“He’s gone. Keep moving!”
The sweeper bots were preoccupied with sweeping up the grizzly scene. Germaine opened fire, disabling one but merely denting the metal casing on the others. There was a mechanical whine as more of the things approached from behind a corner. Eyes already glowed red.
Scooby doo logic! Germaine chewed a knot into the side of his cheek. Whose bright idea was that?
Just then, as the pair were running up some stairs to the second-floor walkway, Germaine’s radio blared.
“Melted… the air vents. Had to shimmy further up a vertical shaft again.” Dan’s voice was nearly imperceptible from the static. "Frickin' acid's melted my radio. God, hope this is going through..."
“You’re alive?” Soto said.
“Kicked out an a/c unit. I’m in a meat locker.” There was a gagging noise over the radio. “Everything’s rotten. Smells awful. Please get me out of here…”
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