Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse (9 page)

“Listen, and understand. That terminator is out there. It
can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or
remorse, or fear.

And it absolutely will not stop, ever,
until you are dead.”

- Kyle Reese

Washington D.C.:

Cy didn’t have a weapon, not that he was trained to use one.
He needed to get out from under the rubble. If more Destroyers came, he
couldn’t be trapped down inside the lab. Too late, he was found. Now, Cy would
have to fight his way through.

The Destroyer descended down the staircase and Cy prepared
for battle. Grabbing a piece of rebar that was sticking out of the mangled
concrete near the base of the steps, Cy wiggled it until it broke free. He
jumped to the other side of the staircase where a wall was still partially
intact, waiting and standing with iron in his fist.

Vibrations went through every molecule of the lab as the Ker
walked down the steps.

Dust fell from the ceiling and landed in Cy’s hair and the
building shook around him. Pounding it down, the Ker banged silt loose and
freed grit from the crevasses with each heavy step. Cy waited, breathing…
Although, his breathing wasn’t actually breathing, it was an advanced cooling
system. Expelling heat on the way out, Cy’s breaths pushed away falling dust
like he’d opened up an ancient book and blew on its pages.

Cy studied his surroundings, surveying and waiting with
iron-clinched bar. The Ker knew Cy was inside. Halfway down, the Ker became
fully aware of where the young cyborg was standing.

After reaching the bottom step, the Ker immediately turned
to engage. The cyborg was fast.
 
Cy saw
the edge of the Destroyer come into view and took his shot. He swung the metal
bar aiming for the Ker’s rifle before it could fire a shot.

“Smack!” Cy hit the rifle and made perfect contact, causing
it to fly out of the Ker’s grip and land halfway up the stairwell. Again, Cy
reared back with the rebar still vibrating in his hand, swinging it with
murderous force. The rebar walloped the Ker’s chest and made a respectable
dent, barely phasing it.

The Destroyer clenched its metal fist and swung backhanded -
Cy ducked.

He felt the wind when the alloy wrecking-ball of a fist
smashed into the wall over his crouching body. The Ker’s arm was stuck inside
the wall, hung up on heavy gauge steel. Straining to break free, it shook the
wall and pulled it down in chunks. Cy launched his body under the robot’s arm,
outracing the falling pieces of drywall in a blinding cloud of gypsum. The Ker
turned and slashed its freed arm down at the young cyborg, missing. As his body
shot forward, Cy reached out and grabbed the corner of the staircase, whipping
around like a pendulum and turning with momentum while racing up.

Noticing the damaged rifle, Cy bound the steps and ran until
he reached the outside world. He stopped for a millisecond, standing and
scanning 360 degrees. Detecting another Ker, Cy dropped and hugged earth. The
second Ker was already firing. Cy felt a photon ray whizz over his head sucking
oxygen from the air, “Smash!” hitting the concrete near him.

The second Ker hurdled across the open ground, advancing on
his position while continuing to fire.

Cy bolted forward and felt the heat from two successive
photon blasts passing behind him. “Zzzzzwhhhap!” “Zzzzzwhhhap!” The shots
landed in the rubble. His sensors also picked up the Ker that was now coming up
the laboratory steps behind him. Shifting into sixth, Cy raced forward at over
32MPH: his top speed.

Both Ker chased, firing and bounding. Losing ground, the
Destroyers kept shooting at the shrinking shape, constantly adjusting their
targeting systems - unable to keep a lock on the cyborg
.
Cy zigged and zagged, avoiding the blasts, detecting each shot
being fired at him from behind. He was almost at the river when his scanners
picked up another Ker waiting for him, straight ahead.

“I’ve lived the literal meaning of the ‘land of the free’ and
‘home of the brave.’ It’s not corny for me. I feel it in my heart. I feel it in
my chest. Even at a ball game, when someone talks during the anthem or doesn’t
take off his hat, it pisses me off.

I’m not one to be quiet about it, either.”

- Navy SEAL, Chris Kyle

California:

Capt. Banks looked out the front windshield leaning between
the two pilots and pressed the button on his radio hand set. “Navy SEALs, do
you copy? Over!”

“Roger that, sir… SEALs copy you loud and clear!”

“We’re going to land on Silver Strand Blvd and clear a
path!” Capt. Banks shouted over the radio.

“Roger that! We’ve got one wounded, sir!” answered the Petty
Officer left in charge via attrition.

Jimmy’s heart beat loud and audible through his ears. Not
yet having a layer of
warm up sweat
-
this is it,
he thought. He was as
ready as he was going to get.
This is
for Mark
…

Several Destroyers were positioned on either side of the
base down Strand Boulevard. Both Vulcan helicopters descended over the road
facing opposite directions while their door gunners unleashed a firestorm.
“BBBBRRRR! - BBBBRRRR! - BBBBRRRR!”

The gunners continued shooting Ker, feeling the vibrations
of 40mm shells blasting out of their barrels in a stream of fire. Aiming in a
blur, they heard the clinking sound of dispersed casings hit the deck as both
war-birds touched down. Bullets from the door gunners hit the first wave of Ker
on Strand Boulevard, exploding them into flying shrapnel. Firing back at the
Marines, the second row of Ker ducked for the cover of buildings and hustled
off the street.

Marines exited the choppers and hit the deck after running out
a few feet. They laid down suppressive fire, shooting toward the third wave of
Ker coming from the distance. “Come on SEALs! Let’s go!” Capt. Banks shouted
through the radio.

“We’re Oscar Mike, sir! Hold those birds!” the Petty Officer
answered.

The Marines popped yellow smoke grenades and threw them away
from both sides of their helicopters.

“SSShhhwap!” Two groups of Destroyers fired their photon
rifles at the hurrying SEALs and leveled the side of an eleven-story building.
Their guidance systems were excellent but they didn’t have a clear shot. The
two Ker that made it deep into the peninsula chased after the SEALs from
behind, firing.

“Crack! Crack! Crack! SSShhhwap!” the Marines opened fire on
the two Ker that were pursuing the SEALs between the buildings. Shooting with
an array of conventional rounds and photon blasters, the Marines continued
firing as a Marine SGT yelled instructions. “Use grenades!”

The SEALs broke out past the mid-rise and onto an open
field, running toward the boulevard. Lobbing them over the Ker’s position, two
Marines fired grenades. “Boomb! Boomb!” Missing, they exploded behind the Ker
and toppled more architecture.

Dragging a man with them, the SEALs made it across the open
field and onto Strand Blvd. The Marines opened up and fired at will, halting
the incoming Ker that descended from three directions. Light arms peppered the
air and the noise decibel dropped while door gunners reloaded. The SEAL team
ran past Jimmy as he continued covering them with armor-piercing rounds along
with the rest of the Marines.

Time to go
…
Woolridge stopped shooting and stood up and turned, swiftly falling in line.

Jimmy was the last man running back toward the chopper and
followed the SEALs along with the rest of his squad. Suddenly, he stopped and
turned back toward the fight. He pictured his mangled brother.
Mark
he thought… Jimmy wasn’t afraid
anymore – he was angry. Now, Lance Cpl. Woolridge wanted revenge.

Launching itself, a Destroyer flew over a low structure, and
smashed down on Strand Blvd in front of him. Jimmy saw blue eyes lit inside its
demonic samurai mask.

They faced off. Man and machine aimed at each other.

Jimmy pulled the trigger first and walked forward. Thinking
of his brother, Woolridge’s shoulder was repeatedly pounded from the force of
10mm rounds bursting out of his barrel. Jimmy marched toward the metal piece of
shit and kept it on full auto. Searing bullets shot from his weapon’s muzzle.
Lance Cpl. Wooldridge was outside himself, gripping and fighting his barrel from
rising up. Too enraged to feel them, he kept marching as casings burned his
skin.

The Marine fired in a blind rage.
Die motherfucker!
Falling to pieces, the Ker dropped into scrap
metal.

“Woolridge!” Capt. Banks shouted.

Jimmy heard his officer yelling and paused. Woolridge
realized he was moving forward and still firing at the pile of lifeless metal.
No longer outside himself, Lance Cpl. Woolridge looked around and noticed how
far he’d gone.

Way out
, he was a
good fifty yards from the Vulcan. Then he saw it coming.

Another Ker appeared, falling from the sky and pulverizing
the asphalt when it landed.

Standing naked as a jaybird, Woolridge squared off against
the new Destroyer. Jimmy aimed and pulled the trigger, hearing the pathetic
click of an empty magazine. Lance Cpl. Woolridge dropped to a knee, reloading
in vain.
I’m
dead
… He knew it. Destroyers were fast and dead on accurate. The Ker raised
its canon to aim…

“BBBBRRRR! - BBBBRRRR! - BBBBRRRR!” Woolridge saw tracer
rounds go past him in faint glow of daylight.

The door gunner fired from the Vulcan and pulverized the Ker
into burning pieces of metal before it crumbled dead in the middle of the
boulevard. Lance Cpl. Woolridge turned and ran back to the Vulcan and dove
inside as Marines covered him, firing from the side door. Both war-birds lifted
and one veered off course from the wash of a
Ker’s photon blast, a near miss.

Looking like a mutant,
the wounded SEAL lay on the deck. His skin was purple and his eyes were rolled
back in his head.

“Doc!” Capt. Banks
shouted at his corpsman, already on his way to help. Doc opened his medical bag
and went to work. “Hold his head!” Doc shouted to one of the other SEALs.

The corpsman checked for
a pulse. Bounding in faint raps against the lifesaver’s fingertip, but it was
there. Doc leaned in and put his cheek close to the fallen SEAL’s mouth…
Airway’s clear
. He cut away the blouse
and t-shirt and checked for exit wounds.
Good,
no holes.
The SEAL mumbled in pain and struggled to breathe. “Hang in
there, you’ll be ok,” Doc stated convincingly.

Banging two fingers
around both sides of the SEAL’s ribcage, the corpsman ran a tension drill. The
lower left quarter felt like a hollow drum, which tipped him off to the
collapsed lung…
Tension Pneumothorax…
After grabbing a large bore needle and catheter, he palpated down the front of
the SEAL’s chest until he found the second rib. Sterilizing the SEAL’s chest
with a Betadine pad, Doc made small amber circles and went outward making
bigger circles.

The corpsman thrust the needle
deep, scraping the bottom of the rib (so as not to hit any nerves) pushing it
through the intercostal space. “Ssssss,” air hissed out of the catheter after
he pulled the needle free, leaving the tiny straw inside the SEAL’s chest. It
took a while, but color returned to the fallen frogman after a few minutes of
unlabored breathing.

“Be sure you put your feet in the right place,
then stand firm.”

- Abraham Lincoln

Washington D.C.:

Seeking cover, Cy changed his direction and ran for a
strange building. After arriving at the base of a massive granite staircase, he
climbed up.

It was time to make a stand and he couldn’t be caught out in
the open against three Ker. Cy’s computers downloaded dozens of options while
he gazed out from high ground. His cooling system worked hard and his chest
rose and fell. Any choice available led through the Ker.

Cy gazed over the reflecting pool, looking like a man after
the end of a long run. Seated behind him was a statue of Abraham Lincoln.

I have to make it to
the river,
he thought. Unarmed, there was no way he could defeat three of
them. Verifying his options again, he confirmed it, and chose the best one. Cy
hurried behind the statue and positioned his body between the wall and the
stone chair, waiting…

The air was quiet. Suddenly, Cy heard the heavy footsteps of
three Destroyers. The Ker were approaching and lined up across from each other
to prevent his escape. Cy remained hidden behind the freer of slaves and
prepared for combat.

Climbing up the terrace steps in unison, three Ker shook the
memorial and marched closer. Cy heard their mechanical sounds scanning for him,
echoing off the walls like a synthesizer. The machines knew he was inside the granite
structure but couldn’t detect him. Trying to lock on, the Ker directed their
radar off the interior of the memorial walls. The signals bounced off granite
and came back with a pinpoint.

Acquired. Target locked!

Now the Destroyers knew the exact spot he was hiding, as if
there was any other place the young cyborg could be. The heavy steps pounded
closer and closer. Suddenly, they stopped.

Cy bent down and picked up two chunks of concrete and kept
one in each hand. He balanced the rocks against his chest and with his free
hand, secured the backpack straps giving each a tug.

Playing goalie, one Ker was on defense and remained at the
top step. The other two flanked the President and continued marching forward.

Cy gauged the weight and density of each piece of concrete
in his hands.

 
Both Ker marched
toward the massive statue and the vibration from their steps loosened the
President’s already cracked neckline. Abraham’s head fell from his shoulders
and smashed to the ground. Chunks of marble flew off and the head thumped
across the floor, and teetered to a stop.

Cy glanced at the head and steadied. The young cyborg stood
with his backpack leaning against the memorial, waiting.

The Ker edged the memorial and Cy saw them out of his
peripherals. Both Ker pivoted ninety degrees. They prepared to fire, with Cy
sandwiched between them.

Wanting to perfectly time the Ker’s shots, the cyborg
remained standing and ready.

Both Ker fired in unison and Cy ducked, feeling the energy
pass over his head. “ZZzzZzzwhHhhapP!!”

The Destroyers shot each other with a friendly fire of
energy blasts. Both careened backward. One Ker was mangled and hit the ground,
dead. The other was grazed but still operational. Injured and knocked off
balance, the second Ker regained its footing and came back into view, swinging
its rifle up, aiming. The Ker was about to lock on.

Cy aimed faster, hurling the chunk of concrete like a
baseball at over 200mph and hit the Ker below its eyes. Its head snapped back
and its guidance system blinked, on the fritz. Cy aimed again, throwing the
second chunk of concrete, smashing the Ker’s face shield.

The robot let out high-pitched noises and tried to reboot.
Malfunctioning with static and blinding light, the Ker’s viewer flashed useless
inside its helmet. The Ker stumbled off balance and its vision went completely
blue.

With its smashed viewer and maimed circuitry, the Ker
couldn’t detect Cy clearing the back of the statue and running forward. The
cyborg yanked the photon rifle from the robot’s grip and went diving face
first. Gliding across the floor, he dragged his hand like a rudder and pivoted
to face the goalie Ker.

Cy did a 180, like a synchronized swimmer, hitting his feet
against a column made from Indiana limestone. Still on his belly, he pushed off
and rocketed forward when the goalie Ker fired. The shot narrowly missed and Cy
slid like a short stop stealing home, outracing debris raining down from the
pillars and walls. Chunks continued falling in an avalanche while Cy’s belt
buckle sparked across the granite. He fired at the goalie while sliding and
feeling the burn on his stomach.

First time he’d ever fired a weapon…
that was easy,
he thought.

The defensive Ker was knocked backward and its rifle flew in
the air. Again, Cy pulled the trigger scoring a direct hit on the goalie’s
chest. The Ker disappeared out of sight, falling back and crashed down the
granite block steps.

 
Cy fired on the blind
robot that was still wandering aimlessly near the statue, nailing its backside armor.
It fell over with its arm stretched out, still attempting to locate the young
cyborg, like a terminator on a singular mission.

After crashing into the pink marble, the Ker rolled over
with a large hole burning from its center breastplate. Cy watched the hole melt
wider as the remaining energy from the round ate through the Ker’s metal like
acid.

Three down
- was there
more to go
? Cy pondered.

Gaining on his position, Cy’s scanner picked up several more
Ker that had abandoned their posts on the bridges. The last thing he wanted to
do was lead them back home to Dr. Pressfield. Time was of the essence.

Before leaping and bounding down the steps, Cy read part of
an inscription over the headless President through the dust: “IN THE HEARTS OF
THE PEOPLE FOR WHOM HE SAVED.”

He made it to the bottom and took off in a blaze.

After reaching the grass, Cy raced behind the structure as
he picked up four Ker sharply appearing across his viewer screen. The river was
sixty yards away… Cy could make it if he hurried. Forty yards… He was twenty
yards away from the water’s edge where the Arlington Memorial Bridge reached
over the shoreline.

Cy dove in the air while securing his backpack and landed
crisply in the water like a trained high-diver. He swam down and headed for the
dark deep. Heading south, Cy hugged the bottom of the channel.

The Ker searched fruitlessly for him, sending empty signals
back and forth while pounding toward Abraham. The robots couldn’t find him when
they arrived at the Memorial, patrolling around it, searching all directions
while aiming weapons at nothing but air.

A lagging Ker sensed the water gently rippling across its
top and relayed the information to the others. Several Ker descended on the
shore. Like metal Nazis, they marched up and down the water’s edge, heading in
opposite directions.

Cy’s scanners were limited underwater, but so were theirs,
trying to penetrate beyond the river’s surface. Staying submerged, he looked up
at the 14
^th
street Bridge, seeing it pass over him like a murky
vision.

The Ker aimed their radar but couldn’t pick up his signal;
they couldn’t detect the crafty cyborg swimming like an eel at the bottom of
the silt.

He swam south down the Potomac River and stopped short a
couple of miles from the Woodrow Wilson Bridge. With a huge section missing,
there was no Ker assigned to guard it. The bridge sat quietly as if awaiting an
Evil Knievel jump over its gap.

Cy was finally safe to show himself above the waterline. He
paused with only his eyes out of the water scanning the area, doing a tactical
peek. All was quiet. Heading for home, Cy softly climbed out of the water and
picked up the pace.