After pulverizing the creature that had been Isaac, the tractor trailer sped forward, past the group and plowed through Community’s main gate. Mo stared as its lights vanished down the road.
“Laird, that asshole!” yelled Wes. “He could’ve thrown us in the trailer! There was plenty of room for everyone!”
“We still have the minivan!” shouted Charles. “It’s behind the Med Hut.”
“How much gasoline’s in the tank?” asked Mo.
“Half tank, I think.”
Half tank, thought Mo. That should do.
“Lacy and I will take the cycle,” he said, pointing to a hedge of tangled brush which concealed the vehicle. “Grant, I have an idea.”
“Like the idea you had for the hospital?” he asked.
“Exactly. But I need to know where Community’s orb is.”
“The farms. I’ll take you there. Follow us.”
Mo and Lacy sprinted to the cycle and they hopped on. In the nearby trees, she thought she heard movement. With a flashlight she’d taken from the Med Hut, she scanned the shadows. She inhaled sharply. “Good God!”
“What?” Mo turned and saw the problem. Dozens – maybe more – of humanoid beings were emerging from the dark forest. “Hold on!” He started the bike and took off. He gave it more gas and caught up to the minivan.
In five minutes, they were on a dirt road, heading downhill. On either side were endless oceans of crops, but not the kind for human consumption. This harvest would lead to human extinction. Mo contemplated that thought and imagined extinction not just here in this reality, but possibly every plane of existence there was.
Good God.
The minivan came to an abrupt stop and Mo swerved to the right to avoid rear-ending it. Then he saw the reason: before them, illuminated by the headlights’ white light, was a body. Mo took his pistol from a compartment on the cycle and dismounted. He approached, aiming at the head, just in case it moved. Déjà vu,’ he thought, recalling when Watley and he had shot that mutated body by the stream. That was where it had all gone wrong for Watley; the tiniest tear in his suit had allowed the contagion to enter him. Mo hoped he had died peacefully, although he doubted it. He drew within a few feet and saw who it was.
“It’s Mitchell!” he announced.
Wes leaped from the minivan’s sliding door and jogged over to Mo. “Jesus. He’s dead?”
“Pretty sure,” said Mo. With Wes – Watley’s counterpart in this reality - beside him, the situation became that much weirder. It they had been standing at a stream, Mo thought he might lose his mind.
“Maybe your ammunition’s still on him,” said Wes, reaching for the body. Someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. It was Lacy.
“Don’t even think about it. You want to end up like this?” she asked, holding up her amputated left arm. “Or worse?”
Wes nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks.”
Grant rolled down the passenger side window. “I think the orb is just ahead. Let’s go!”
They turned to head back to their respective vehicles but stopped when they heard what sounded like gunfire. Not just any gunfire.
“What the hell was that!” asked Wes. “That was no rifle shot.”
“No,” said Mo, staring down the road. “Sounded like a…chaingun.” He couldn’t see where the fire had originated from as the road curved to the right and out of view behind the crop field. But he had an idea what had caused it.
*********
Raising his left arm, Gray absorbed the rounds from the Machine’s weapon. Most of the bullets ricocheted, flying off into the darkness, but a few lodged into the limb. He felt no pain, however. His hide had toughened since he’d last seen the big robot. Then again, as he strode toward his enemy, he had an idea that this robot was a different one altogether. It was somewhat bigger than the other. Thicker, too.
Another burst of fire exploded from the thing’s cannon.
THWUM-DUDDA-DUM-BOON!
And again, most of the rounds bounced off, falling harmlessly to the ground. Gray figured this robot must’ve had insider information on him – likely from its predecessor - since it had attacked immediately after its red light had scanned him. He checked behind him to be sure there weren’t two of them attempting an ambush.
There had been no need to communicate with the robot. Gray knew he was here for the man in the wall. Gramps. But Gray wouldn’t let him touch his Gramps. He would die first.
When they were within twenty yards of one another, the Machine switched weapons, maybe because it realized the automatic rounds weren’t working. A panel opened on its arm, revealing a sleek, gleaming cylinder.
FWA-THWUP!
The blast hit Gray and he was pushed backward a few feet. Some kind of concussive gun. He remembered the other robot possessing this same weapon. It had thrown Gray through a wall in that initial confrontation, but now, he was bigger and heavier, his additional mass reducing the weapon’s effect on him. He lumbered forward, pressing into the invisible force. The Machine ceased firing and marched toward the giant.
When they met, each threw a swing. Gray’s missed. The Machine landed a solid blow to Gray’s chest, sending him backward a step. Then the Machine produced the weapon that had almost killed Gray: a large, hooked blade. It looked heavy and hard, and it came down exactly where Gray had been cut by it before. It was a glancing shot, however, and deflected with a TING!
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Gray countered by grabbing the Machine’s head. He’d marveled at its location before: hovering just outside the main chassis by some unseen force. He clawed it and tugged, but only managed to nudge it.
The Machine broke free and swung the blade again, this time connecting, a direct hit on Gray’s old wound. It must’ve been twice as durable as before though, because when the blade made contact, it shattered. The Machine paused, as if in disbelief, and Gray countered. With his club-appendage, he landed an uppercut, jarring the head loose and staggering the metal behemoth.
The head flew into the night darkness and landed ten feet away. As Gray went toward it, the chassis, somehow still aware of his position, fired the concussive weapon again, knocking Gray slightly off-balance. The head levitated, then rocketed back, intent on rejoining its body. Gray snagged it from its flight and heaved it to the ground. He stepped on it, trapping it beneath his foot.
The chassis reached Gray, grabbing him in its metal claws. With a hearty swipe, Gray took its legs out and it crashed to the ground.
He refocused on the head. The substance was too hard to crush, so he raised his club and brought it down. It bounced off with no apparent damage. The chassis got to its feet and approached. Gray raised the club again, and summoning all his strength, cried out and struck.
The black globular head split into imperfect halves, each falling away from the other. Inside, a network of microchips and other things Gray knew nothing about, sparked and fizzled. The red light projected, blinked off and on, then went out. For good. Behind Gray, the chassis stood frozen in mid-step.
Gray turned toward the road when he heard vehicles approaching. A van and a motorcycle. A man and woman got off the cycle and approached. The man held out his hands as if to say, I’m unarmed, don’t hurt me.
Then the man spoke. “I’m not sure if you know me, but-”
“Mo,” said Gray.
Mo seemed surprised. He glanced at the woman, then back to Gray. “Yes. I knew…another Gray, but how do you know me?”
*********
Gray shrugged. “Not sure. Just do.”
Lacy stepped past Mo, who seemed hesitant for her to do so. She drew close to Gray, who, although scary and magnificently bizarre, also seemed to her like a lost puppy, seeking companionship. “I remember you,” she said.
Gray blinked twice and cocked his head slightly.
Lacy moved closer. “I see you in my memories. You saved me before. I need your help again.” She gestured toward Mo and the minivan. “We need your help.”
Gray looked past her at the other members of the group. Wes, Charles and Grant had stepped out of the minivan. They stared at Gray with what seemed like genuine awe.
“I’m not sure it was the same me,” said Gray, glancing back down at Lacy. “But I will help.”
Mo walked over to the Machine’s immobile chassis, then inspected the thing’s ruptured head. “You did this?” he asked Gray.
Gray nodded, seemingly proud of the accomplishment. “Yes.” Then, his attention was drawn to the dark crops. Leaving Lacy and Mo, he stepped to the edge of the field and stared. “They’re coming,” he said.
Lacy and Mo looked at one another. “Who?” she asked.
Gray returned to them. “The plant people. Time for you to go.”
The crops and the road began to yield to an encroaching wave of distortion; a colossal theatre curtain sliding open, transforming the world around them. A 360-degree view merging with their current one. Lacy retreated a step, unsure of what was happening. “Mo?”
He came to her side and took her hand. “It’s alright.” He pointed to Gray. “I think he’s doing it.”
“Yes, I am,” said Gray. “Don’t be scared. I can send you somewhere safe. Alex and Eva are there, too.”
“Thank you!” shouted Grant. He seemed unsure of how his gratitude would be received. But then appeared pleased when Gray raised a long, heavy limb and waved to him.
The ground trembled. Deep, vibrating waves pulsed outward from the crops. An ink- black cloud drifted in from the darkness, miniscule particles infiltrating the road.
“Go!” shouted Gray. “Now!”
The new reality enveloped them, choking the old one into nonexistence. Instantly, fresher, cleaner air flooded their vicinity. Lacy turned to Gray, who was quickly fading. “Come with us!” she pleaded.
Gray smiled. “I have something to do here. I hope I see you again.”
And then, he was gone.
*********
Only Gray remained. Now, he could hear the plant people approaching, shuffling through the stalks. They were close. Humanoids, some called them. He thought they did, anyway.
He tapped his head with his club-hand. He felt cloudy…like his mind used to feel before. Drained. Sending Lacy and the group to that other…what was it called? Reality? It must’ve worn him out; taken something out of him.
“Hope you don’t become a dummy again, stupid,” he mumbled to himself.
The dark cloud was all around him now. He stared up at the sky, at the stars. Then, he remembered the tiny house sitting two hundred feet away, just off the road. Gramps’ house. As he began walking toward it, he was unaware that Mitchell’s body was gone.