We drove down a dirt road for about a mile before merging onto the main road proper. The pace was slow due to all the wrecked cars, but with some nifty driving by yours truly, we managed to navigate our way through the maze of twisted metal. Several of the vehicles we passed still contained the skeletons of their doomed owners. Once past the worst of the wreckage, the road cleared and I sped up until we reached the highway. As Beth had mentioned, a whole section of the elevated road had collapsed into a narrow ravine below.

"The off-ramp is just ahead," Beth said, her eyes studying the map. I nodded, and sure enough, after a few more minutes, the ramp came into view. I eased off the gas and allowed the truck to slow to a crawl. A worn sign stood over the road, bearing the name Automaton Springs.

"Are we sure we want to do this?" Ethan remarked from the back.

"We need those supplies, and this is the quickest route to them. Every moment we delay, the Dominion gets further away. If we floor it, we can get through," Beth replied. I thought she was being overly optimistic with her assessment.

For a moment, I considered suggesting that maybe we double back and seek an alternative route, but the stern expression on Beth’s face told me it would be futile to argue.

Reluctantly, I gripped the steering wheel tighter and pushed the gas pedal down. The truck lurched forward, picking up speed as we approached Automaton Springs. The air grew tense inside the cab as we all silently prepared for what might lie ahead.

At first sight the place looked like any other middle American town. Houses with porch swings and what had no doubt been exquisitely manicured lawns and white picket fences lined both sides of the road. It looked like a

As we drove into the outskirts of Automaton Springs, the ghostly silhouettes of deactivated robots lined the streets. I slowed down next to one—a dated model Optimus, identifiable as a Mark III by the shape of its rotund head. Its slumped shoulders and lowered head suggested it had run out of power, a relic not fitted with the advanced fusion batteries of newer models, but dependent on recharge stations that had been destroyed during the war.

We drove on and came upon a cross section strewn with remnants of celebration turned to carnage. Torn and faded ticker tape littered the ground, and signs depicting a friendly, smiling cartoon robot with the words "ROBO PARADE" flanked the street. The remains of various parade floats lay scattered, with the robots that had once adorned them now dormant.

"What the fuck?" Ethan muttered.

I looked around, noting dried blood stains scattered across the pavement and damage to the buildings along the parade route. I envisioned the parade in full swing, with cheering crowds of men, women, and children waving balloons and little flags—a fun-filled day that had turned to horror in an instant. When the virus struck, the robots on the floats were infected and the killing began. I winced at the thought; it must have been a massacre.

The sight was unnerving—machines in mid-action, frozen in a time when they served humans rather than hunted them.

Beth kept her eyes glued to the map, directing me through the least congested routes, while Ethan and Trevor scanned the eerily silent surroundings. The quiet was punctuated only by the occasional gust of wind that sent papers and debris skittering across the road.

"We're getting close to where we were ambushed," Beth muttered. She placed the map on the dashboard and drew her pistol from the holster at her hip. Glancing at me, she nodded. I understood immediately and drew my Glock, holding it in my right hand as I steered with the left. As we drove deeper into the town, the evidence of the horror unleashed by the machines became more apparent. Several buildings along the road were burnt-out husks, with skeletal remains scattered around them. One structure had completely collapsed, and just off to the right side of the street lay a tank flipped onto its side. Its treads had been torn off, and the turret was a charred shell. Bullet holes pocked many of the surfaces, and the road itself became harder to navigate due to dozens of craters, undoubtedly the result of artillery and air strikes. My father used to tell me stories of the Machine War, how the human race had attempted to fight back against their mechanical creations. It hadn’t ended well.

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Beth gestured for me to turn down a side street and I complied. The quiet was starting to get to me. For a town that had been a robot show town where were all the robots? As we emerged from the side street I instantly regretted asking myself that question. There, standing in the middle of the street were robots. Dozens of them. All stood upright and from the faint glows in their head plates it was clear these ones had some juice left in them. There was no way around them for the street was too narrow.

“Shall I go back?” I asked Beth my voice barely louder than a whisper.

She stared at the gathered machines. I could see the fear in her eyes, but as in the tunnels she quickly composed herself and pushed it somewhere deep down. Fear wasn’t going to do us any good.

“There isn’t any other way. With the highway down if we go back and try and find a way around it’ll take us miles in the wrong direction,” she replied in hushed tones.

“We’re running on fumes as is. How far to the cache?”

“Another five miles to the west.”

“We could walk it. Maybe try and sneak our way through like in the city,” I suggested.

She shook her head.

“We won’t have any wheels if we do that. We’ll never be able to catch up with the Dominion without a vehicle.”

“At least we won’t be dead, which is what we’ll certainly be if we try and get past that lot.”

Beth closed her eyes. I could see the frustration on her face.

“Floor it,” she said.

“What?”

“I said, floor it,” she said.

I fingered the steering wheel and winced. Oh shit. I leaned out the window and gestured to Ethan and Trevor in the back. ‘Hold on tight’ I mouthed. From the expressions on their faces they too thought we’d gone crazy. Turning back to the street I took a deep breath and then I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal.

The engine roared as I floored the accelerator; the tyres screeched and the truck lurched forward. Ahead, the robots—motionless sentinels until now—began to animate, their mechanical limbs whirring into life as they prepared to intercept us. Together, they emitted the chilling cry that had been the last sound many had heard:

“HOSTILES ENCOUNTERED. ELIMINATE.”

Trevor swung the truck-mounted machine gun into position. With a deafening blast, he opened fire, the gun chattering loudly as it spat out rounds in rapid succession. The air filled with the metallic tang of spent casings and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Ethan, leaning out of the back, took careful aim with his rifle. Each shot was a calculated execution, targeting the nearest threats with clinical efficiency. The sharp cracks of his rifle punctuated the cacophony of gunfire, each bullet finding its mark in the glowing head plates of several machines. One dropped to the ground, its head sparking and fizzing. Others staggered under the barrage but remained upright, their gyros compensating for the impacts.

“Look out!” Trevor shouted in warning.

My eyes widened as one of the deadliest robots, an Atlas. It sprinted out from the crowd. Its movements were uncanny, blending speed with agility, making it a formidable opponent. I ploughed the truck into the thinnest part of the pack, sending several bots flying in all directions and crushing one under the wheels. A cry from the pack made me glance in the side mirror. A robot had managed to latch onto the side of the truck, its claw-like hands providing a solid grip. Ethan crossed from one side of the truck bed to the other and emptied a clip into the hitchhiker's head in a desperate attempt to get it to let go. I swerved the truck violently, and the damaged machine was shaken loose, crashing across the street and striking others in its path.

Just as we seemed to be gaining ground, a robot latched onto the driver's door with a metallic clang, its cold, unyielding grip shaking the entire vehicle. Its already damaged face, mere inches from mine behind the glass, was a mess of wires and glowing sensors. Heart pounding, I raised my pistol with my free hand, aiming shakily at the mechanical monstrosity clinging to our only escape.

Without hesitation, I fired. The bullets punctured the robot’s head, causing sparks to fly as it momentarily malfunctioned. Yet, it wasn't enough to deter it completely. With a desperate glance, I saw Beth reload her pistol, leaning across me to fire directly into the robot’s core. With a final flicker of its sinister lights, the robot's grip loosened, and it was ripped away by our blistering speed, taking the driver’s door with it as it tumbled into the chaotic melee of its fellow machines.

We barrelled through the remaining robots, which now seemed more hesitant to attack. As the last of the streets cleared behind us, the sounds of the guns fell silent, replaced by the pounding of our hearts and the labored breaths filling the cab.

"We made it," I gasped, glancing in the rearview mirror at the wreckage-littered road, now strewn with deactivated robots and the debris of our frantic escape. Beside me, Beth let out a long, trembling breath, her hand finally easing off her pistol.

"Yeah, we did," she replied, her voice a mixture of relief and resolve. "But we're not out yet. Keep driving."