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  I woke on a cot in a wall tent. My body hurt

  and I couldn't move. "Where?" At least I could talk without moving. I didn't know if anyone was in the tent with me since moving my neck hurt. I spoke only to break the silence. "Where am I? What happened?" Though I could speak I could hear the weakness in my voice. I wish I could say I knew the others weren't with me. I wish I could say lots of things of the situation, but I'd be lying.

  Time passed and a slender gholem in a mishmash of army fatigues, homespun material, and of all things a Milton Ligers scarf around his neck. How he could wear the thing in this heat I couldn't say. When asked why gholem seemed to always dress too warmly in the summer Billy had always been somewhat evasive on the matter. This man looked me over and, on seeing my responsiveness, patted me gently on the shoulder and told me that he would get Thomas.

  My head felt too stuffed full of cotton to care who this person was, but he introduced himself as in charge of the band that found me. He explained that... I forget the word he used, but calling them Robots seemed to fit. He said that me, my group, and the people we were trading fire with were attacked. As his story went, he had led his group in a hunt for the constructs in retaliation for the deaths of a larger group.

  I asked if they were part of the refugee group Billy and I had negotiated with last may. They were, and they found what they were looking for, though only after they had been rounded up, people tortured either to find out why they ran here, or possibly just for sport. A few were led to what remained of a warehouse that held not only these robots, but weapons and armor. I asked how any of it was still in usable condition; since all of this stuff has to be centuries old. He wouldn't tell me how, but he did say that though most of it looked in good condition he thought there had to be some sort of damage associated with the extended time spent in stasis... whatever I suppose.

  When the Robots were activated they were ordered, by the officer in charge, to 'eliminate these vermin', indicating those that were drafted as laborers. The machines responded by asking for authorization codes. The officer repeated his order. They then went to the weapons lockers, started inspecting the contents, and started repairing what they identified as Cellular Disruptor Rifles. Once they were satisfied these things were in working order they opened fire on the officer, his men, and anyone wearing a uniform.

  As described to me these weapons dissolve living tissue, but don't affect non-living matter. I won't pretend how to even start explaining how this was supposed to work; but the account given to me matched stories passed down from the tail end of the war and into the beginning of the Great Decline, stories I had tossed out as being too far fetched to consider when Sara and I were racking our brains for possible things we would have to contend with. Weapons that remove a population and leave the material goods, infrastructure, and the entire reason one would invade an area; on top of leaving no messy demoralizing cleanup of the dead would have been very appealing in my estimation.

  Any momentary thoughts of salvation for the draftees were crushed when the robots fired on anyone attempting to flee. In fact the only reason any of this is known was because they left one human and one gholem alive. They surrounded these two, explained to both of them the only reason that they survived was to provide these machines with information on where they were, the general disposition of military and civilian centers, and to spread terror by telling others what they had seen.

  If this account did not give you reason to fear then either you lack the imagination I do, or you hadn't paid attention. There were close to forty of these things out there armed with weapons that not only kill, they disintegrate. They had armor capable of stopping anything smaller than a cannon. These things had no goal other than chaos, murder, and their continued survival. The worst part of this; worse than the image of whole towns suddenly being depopulated by these things was this:

  They had no demands to meet; no ransom to pay to make them quit. They would not be bargained or reasoned with. They had nothing to report to or any way of ordering them to stop.

  I was with Thomas and his group for two days. In that time we had to relocate several times due to finding a richer source of whatever trinkets or scraps of pre-war information that hadn't long ago rotted into oblivion or was stored on useless bits of plastic and metal.

  They didn't do this out of some sense of duty to preserve history, or even to learn about our past. They do so because both information and artifacts fetch high prices in Troy (Pennsylvania, Eastern Coalition). There was urgency in their movements, not by threat of immediate attack from these nightmarish super-weapons as I first

  thought, but because they wanted to beat any other looters Salvagers from beating them out of the best stuff.

  When I asked Thomas why stay when there are now things out there that could kill them and everyone else he had the following to say. "We all die, whether it's tomorrow or twenty years from now. Unless one of these Ubermench walks out in front of me than I am going to file them away with all the other things that could theoretically kill me and not give them another thought."

  They would not allow me to aid in the repeated breakdown, transport, and set-up of their equipment. They were kind to me, but they were adamant about keeping me separated from what they considered sensitive material. Couldn't blame them. I was, however, allowed to help with the pack animals so far as I was able to between occasional bouts of weakness.

  I find it hard to describe, but it's like everything is fine one moment, and the next I had no strength in the limb I had bee exerting. After a few minutes it would pass and everything works as it should, but I'm concerned by this and hope it is only temporary.

  After repeated attempts to get a straight answer out of anybody, I have found that nobody knew where my companions went. I could not say anything about either Sara or Jak, but if Billy was still alive she would try finding me. She did so once before when I was taken by a group of Humanists and left in a field somewhere with numerous injuries. She could find me now if I stay put long enough since I've walked along with the majority of the group I have been with.

  I have not made mention my injuries before because it has remained warm and any rains relatively light. Were this in the middle of winter, or a storm stopping to dump a small lake on my head over the course of several hours I would have made mention of the various aches and pains I

  go through on a daily basis. I hurt, but the pain isn't bad enough to keep me from doing the things I need to do.

  September 15

  Mood: Somber

  They let me go with a minimum of fuss and ceremony. I was grateful for their kindness, but they didn't have room for me to stay longer, and I could not stay without knowing what happened to my friends. Also, on the off chance that they were not simply lying to me about these Robots it would have been a better idea to split up, with each of us carrying warning to different places. However now that I had time to sit and think it over I was not so sure about what Thomas told me.

  They were far more concerned with mundane looters, thieves, and the like than they were of something that, if I had even heard of from someone I had reason to trust, have run for dear life and Salvation from. It made an interesting, if grotesque and nightmarish, story if a lie. On the other hand if true, I hoped it wasn't. That's all I am willing to say.

  I'd taken this time to catch up on my writing, and had transposed things from my shorthand note-pad to my journal book, which was written in longhand. The day was mild and there was a nice breeze going. Other than the sounds of nature reclaiming the ruins around me little made noise. This place has it's own beauty about it.

  This transference of notes took most of the morning. I started walking about to stretch my legs, and found that I had been followed. Even though I was hopeful it's Billy I tensed. Visions of remorseless human-like automata killing anything not like themselves filled my mind for several moments. I waved both arms over my head and make noise. Even if it wasn't one of my friends I hoped they would be able
to give me news on the attack that landed me with Thomas's group for the past few days.

  Wait. Something didn't fit here. If these machines used Disruptive weapons, than how could I have been thrown against a wall? The way it was described there was a dot of light wherever the weapon was pointed. Blink. If what it was aimed at living, poof; Up in smoke.

  Maybe, going on the idea that Thomas wasn't lying, they had other, less selective, weapons. It made sense in a way, save the really frightening weapons that turn people into nothing for large crowds, or at least wait till there was an audience to be terrified by their use. No matter how I looked at it though it didn't add up. Oh well, like Thomas, unless one of these things showed up I won't worry.

  Whoever it was I saw earlier exited a brick and stone faced three story building, possibly a firehouse. It was hard to make out who they were from this far away, but they were wearing a greatcoat, so either they're a gholem, have a really good reason to not be seen with a shotgun or other such weapon, or possibly both. I heard my name called. Billy. Deus thank you. She's alright.

  When she got to me I cried. She cried and held me close. She thought she was the only one left. Sara died in the initial attack, and Jak went while in the process of ripping our attacker's head off by way of one of it's companions vaporizing him. This meant the story was real. Thomas hadn't lied and there were forty soulless monsters on the loose with cold and calculating intent.

  Billy ran while it's attention was drawn to the group that had started firing on us and hadn't noticed her own injuries, or hadn't bothered tending to them, till after they were long out of sight. My Beautiful Billy. Don't think I will shrink away from you because of a few blemishes. You're alive and we were able to get away from there. That is what was important. Your face is yours no matter if it were nothing but scars.

  Thankfully Billy managed to save one of the horses. She wouldn't hear any talk of us taking turns riding the gelding and insisted I was in no condition to walk long enough to properly take turns anyway. We could have ridden double. It would be uncomfortable, but doable. The saddle, though, was not made for that and I didn't think the horse liked our one attempt at having both of us on him at once. Considering with both of us as well as what little we still have it would bring the total amount he would have to carry upwards of five hundred pounds I can't say that I blame him one bit.

  The rest of our trip was spent either in silence, listening for signs of possible hostiles, or a state of halfsleep. We were reluctant to camp, but light was getting poor and the horse needed rest. That night was spent huddled together under the new moon. We both hurt and are both shaken, but we refuse to be afraid.

  September 20

  The world is crazy and so are we.

  I did not write in my journal on the way home because nothing of consequence happened. There were no encounters with killer man-made devils wielding weapons that turn people into nothing. There weren't any bandits. In fact the only remarkable event that happened was that we stopped at the old farm for a night's rest, and that was remarkable only in the memories it brought to mind.

  We were home, and though the rumors about Belleberg now included these killer machines I dared not, for the sake of not being seen as insane, speak of what I had been through. It may seem cold and cruel, but my trying to warn anyone at this point would only land me in a place where white was the dominant color and the guests were fitted with special vests so they could hug themselves while they sat alone.

  Finn was glad to see that the both of us had survived, though was disturbed at Billy's injuries and my story of looters going over what the army had left behind both in town and in the nearby ruins. I was grateful he hadn't replaced me, just as he was glad I am alive and able to return to my job. I still had moments of weakness, but they happen less often than they did a week ago. I think in another week or two I will be rid of them altogether. Billy had to find another job, as her employer had assumed she had made her story up to give her a few extra days off. He didn't even wait for her to be gone a week before finding a replacement. Maybe Jenny could help her find work like she did for me.

  Life continued to go on no matter how unusual it got. There was a mad scramble for a small bit to keep the proverbial wolves from our door, but we are tolerably well. Billy was currently talking with Jenny and in a few hours I was due for my Grade 2 Wireless Certification. Given what we had seen I might eventually want to invest time to gain my Grade 3 Certification so I could qualify for service with the Merchant Caeldine fleet.

  With what was going on though it might eventually be better if we both find a way to be more mobile, and I couldn't think of a better way of not becoming a noxious cloud of smoke than to be in the air. My voice rose and asked Jenny if she knew anything about the local airships and their crews. Logical to ask her considering she often dressed like a barnstormer, at least that seemed like a reasonable argument at the time.

  When asked why I wanted to know I tell her that maybe a ship could use a pair of hands. Billy needed work, and even with a Grade 2 Certification I thought a few might hire me on and train me the rest of the way while on the job. Could have been wishful thinking on my part, but one never knew till they asked.

  As it turned out Jenny did, in fact, rub elbows with several different crews and was happy to ask around on our behalf. She was even willing to give a recommendation for both of us if we needed. Bless that woman Deus, for hers is a kind heart. Maybe I should tell her. No, she'd laugh it off. No. I have to tell her. It would be a poor payment on our part for her to die because we don't want to sound silly.

  She listened intently as we sat down with her to tell her the whole story. She didn't interrupt or ask anything till we were done. Her jaw set and her face had a grim cast to it when we told her about the robots. Billy asked her if she knew about these things.

  "Evil, demons formed by the hands of men. Protectors, Revenge Weapons; they were called all of these and more. They were designed as shock troops in the last year of the war by desperate countries that wanted something easier to control than their rebelling Genome armies. They pushed robotics and Artificial intelligence as far as they could during the war and these man-sized creations were the end result. They were tireless, efficient, intelligent, and above all else they were loyal without pause or question to their makers." Jenny sipped from a cup of tea Billy had poured her. "That loyalty combined with Disruptor weapons made them ideal as a force to be dropped, unsupported, into enemy held territory and start killing anything and everything that they recognized as a threat."

  I wasn't sure if this was just a story she had heard and was telling us, or if she somehow possessed some secret knowledge of those dark days. Her tone was serious. Her expression grim. She did not look like she was trying to be entertaining. "Problems started when the capacity to build these machines spread to all major nations. This is why there are maybe a few hundred million people now instead of the billions that swarmed the globe.”

  “How do you know these things?” I asked in a low voice.

  She looked into her cup and continued telling her awful tale, not bothering, in that moment, to answer. "Not only were whole regions depopulated by mass killings, but the people that pulled the strings of these mechanical puppets grew more paranoid as the war entered its last few months. They started creating sealed vaults across the globe that contained whole units of these things as well as enough weapons, parts, and supplies to keep them in fighting condition for years, decades if need be. These people, if they could still be considered people, wanted to ensure that any would-be conquerors would face their own ends by weapons that had lain dormant and waiting.”

  She grunted and looked at us both. "The war was lost by all sides and only a few remembered that the damned things existed, and even in their own time those stories were considered overblown and too impossible to believe." We waited for more, by this point I don't think either of us cared of what Jenny said was true or fiction. Her story, and more importantly how she told i
t, held us.” People rebuilt outside of the old cities, fearing that dormant germ weapons, baby nukes, or even disruptor bombs were waiting to wipe out what was left of the human race. The rest, as you both know, is history."

  "How do you know these things?" Billy's voice was quizzical rather than accusing as she asked a second time. Jenny sounded sincere, and it would explain why people built from the ground up instead of resettling the old population centers, and then there was what we saw in the ruins. That also lent credibility to the story.

  Jenny's only answer was a smile. She had just explained a whole lot of history that what they taught in classes only hinted at, but she never explained or gave away her sources. Strange that we believe her. Stranger still that she ended up being right, at least so far as I’ve been able to see.

  She stayed with us that night, and we were happy for the company. Out of courtesy I took the sofa in the sitting room in spite of protests that she wouldn't want to impose. It would give her and Billy a chance to talk, because Billy needed somebody else to speak to about what happened to her. She knew I would think her pretty no matter how she looked, but any person, male or female, is bound to have difficulty looking themselves in the mirror and a face marred by what she has to see. There were also the deaths of Sara and Jak. She had to watch them die. I didn't.

  A half-remembered song drummed in my head. I cannot remember the words, but the rhythm was soothing. I closed my eyes and hoped that the worst for us is over. It wasn't, unfortunately. The 'worst' parts of one's life were always updated and redefined. Well, they were unless you lived thorough a mass genocide. I fear nightmares of walking suits of chrome and steel wielding weapons that swept the land clear like the Hand of Judgment.