Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) (33 page)

             
“They won’t bother us if we walk among them,” I say. “I did it at River City and they didn’t budge at the sight of me. We actually have a lot more to be scared of from the humans.”

             
“The humans?” she says. “I love how you casually refer to
our
species as if they’re different from us.”

             
“You know what I mean,” I say. “I’m just saying we can save ourselves serious time by walking among the robots. We’re far enough from the city so no action will reach – ”

             
She snaps her head to the side. Her look of quiet shock is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and raised eyebrow. I know what this means.

             
“Okay, okay, we’ll do it
your
way,” I say.

             
“I’m sure we won’t be able to avoid all robots but I’m not purposely going to walk with them,” she says.

             
And with that, it’s settled. We head south of the city, staying as far from the robots as possible. We continue to see the glow of fire in the distance but as night turns to morning and the sun rises slowly overhead, we have a better view of the sheer enormity of the army. I can’t believe the humans in Chicago or Dearborn are holding out so long.

             
The suburbs here are in worse shape than those beyond River City. None of the houses or buildings remain standing. Considering the streams of robots that pound their way through this area, it’s no surprise this land is little more than trampled bits of concrete nothingness.

Later in the day we have a clearer view of the city. Unlike River City’s natural water barrier, Dearborn has little in the way of defenses. Highway ramps long ago crumbled and now provide broken concrete walls to some of the larger entrances in the city. Other debris has been pushed around the city’s outer limits but most of those makeshift walls are falling apart and barely stop the enemy.

The only thing that slows the robot advance are humans firing guns: regular guns, pulse guns, guns that cause explosions, guns that create fire, guns that blow up anything and everything metallic. But every time I see one robot mowed down in battle, hundreds more are ready and willing to step forward and take its place.

“How have they survived so long?” Mom asks.

I shake my head. “Never underestimate the importance and strength of the human fighting spirit. If we lived there – if we thought our city was one of humankind’s final chances for existence – we’d be fighting that hard, too.”

“I can’t imagine the city holding up much longer under that barrage,” she says. “Fighting spirit or not.”

I wish I could think otherwise but the princess herself left for a reason. I still think about her and Nej every day, still hope they’ve reached – or one day
will
reach – River City and figure out a way to combine the two cities’ forces to save their homes and their people. But after watching this level of carnage – knowing that the Robot Army will head west to River City once Dearborn finally succumbs – it’s hard to picture any outcome but human annihilation.

“Can you believe the world we’ve returned to?” Mom whispers absently.

I want to suggest that we help; it feels irresponsible and cowardly to turn our backs on humankind. But I don’t say another word. I already know what Mom would say if I suggested staying, I already know the look she’d give me (and that would be worse than any tongue-lashing she could dole out). Her argument would be right: we might be able to walk undetected among the robots but if the humans didn’t strike before we got too close to the city, the robots would certainly target us once they deemed us an enemy. How many robots could we take out before being destroyed ourselves? A dozen? Twenty, if we were lucky? In the end, would that even make a difference?

I may not remember the details of my former life but I’m certain I didn’t live in times as hopeless as these.

Mom and I don’t speak another word before walking on. The city and army fade into the distance behind. Both of us remain silent as we ponder our utter inability to change the world’s inevitable doom. Would my sons even care if I learned about them had they known the world was coming to this?

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“How did you find a photograph of the Heaven Box’s location?” I ask.

It’s been several weeks since we passed Dearborn. Mom and I have spoken very little in that time, mostly because of our surroundings. Soon after passing the crumbling city and destroyed suburbs, trees began to reappear. A few dotted the landscape but in time they became as plentiful as the rest of the country. The only interruption of greenery was a massive trail cut through the forest, a trail constantly used by the robots. Squads of gleaming metallic killers often headed in the direction of Dearborn but the traffic wasn’t only one way. Damaged robots – those missing arms, legs, covered with scorch marks or cracked solar panels – limped in the opposite direction, the same way we’ve been traveling.

At first, Mom leads us far from the robot’s trail, heading deeper into the solitude of the Endless Forest. But after a week passes, the trees begin to fade again. We’d hoped to encounter another city – more signs of human continuation – but that wasn’t the case. Instead, we found the lands more barren, flatter, nothing around but dirt and tall grasses and emptiness. We no longer spotted the occasional human but the number of robots wandering these lands – mostly busted ones headed east – grew each day.

Once out in the open, we have no place left to hide, no more trees to duck behind every few minutes. Mom even allows us to run at times when the coast is clear. We make better time than we have along the whole journey, though she forces us to walk whenever we spot the slightest sign of movement on the horizon.

I fully expect Mom to ignore my question or tell me to drop the subject; it wouldn’t be the first time she ignored inquiries about the Heaven Box. But this time she does neither.

“You can’t just drop it, can you?” she asks, though she doesn’t sound as angry as I expect. “You’ve been thinking about that the entire trip, haven’t you?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Fine,” she says. “When I saw the note from your family and list of coordinates in your folder, I typed the numbers into the computer system in CIFPOL’s control room.”

“The computer didn’t work when I tried,” I say.

Mom shrugs her metallic shoulders. “What can I say? Maybe you weren’t using it right.”

“It showed you a picture of the
exact
location? And you just happen to know how to get there?” I ask. I don’t intend to sound as skeptical as the words that come out of my mouth. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what I’m supposed to think about this whole situation.”

She nods in understanding, once again not the reaction I expected.

“In your position, I’d probably feel the same,” she says. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can say to convince you. You’re in the unenviable position of having to take my word for it.”

Mom glances at me and the side of her mouth curls into a sly grin. It’s times like these when she’s so hard to read, when I’m not sure how to feel about her. She must be able to read the confusion on my face because she chuckles.

“Always such an easy mark,” she says. “And I never said I know
exactly
how to get there. I said I know where it’s at.”

“From a single picture? How?”

She shrugs. “I remembered it from my life.”

“And you’re just telling me that now?” I ask. Her smile remains and she nods slightly. “What
else
aren’t you telling me?”

She sighs, not actual breath coming out of her mouth, just the noise, though playful rather than annoyed.

              “Always doubting me,” she says, shaking her head, “despite everything I’ve done for you. You claim to trust me but constantly question me.”

             
“I
do
trust you,” I say. “But it’s hard to have complete confidence when there are so many unknowns.”

             
“Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be much longer now,” she says. “You can get ready to leave me again.”

             
Mom looks away but I still see the profile of her eyes, which glisten in the sunlight. I didn’t know we were still capable of crying. I want to deny that I’d leave her again but I know she believes my words as much as I believe hers. Still, I don’t want her to be upset. I place my robot hand on her robot shoulder, hoping to comfort her. She shrugs it off and keeps walking.

             
Silence joins us on the final leg of our journey. For days, I try to get her talking again, try to get her to open up. But she only says a few words here or there about where we’re going. It’s probably better we don’t talk anyway. The grassy plains give way to scorched earth, more lands that remain empty and barren but are now dotted by big black scorch marks. This terrain eventually turns rocky and hilly, though never quite mountainous.

We traverse the hills for days, the effort forcing us to shut down more often than usual. We see very few robots during this time. I assume there must be a faster – and easier – path through the hills. Mom agrees but she’s more than content to take the difficult route if it means avoiding the army.

“There might come a day we can’t avoid danger,” she reminds me repeatedly. “Might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

But the quiet doesn’t last much longer. Just when I think we’ll never see signs of civilization again, the clear blue sky above becomes lightly shrouded. I assume it’s merely cloudy but these clouds don’t blow over in the breeze. The farther we walk, the hazier the sky becomes.

“Smog,” Mom says. “Whatever’s creating it can’t be good for us.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can travel around it,” I say.

I expect her to applaud my sense of caution but she frowns while looking into the distance.

“Do you see something?” I ask. “Robots or people?”

She slowly shakes her head. “Neither, it’s nothing. It’s just that something around here seems…”

Her words trail off and she doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, she continues walking forward. The rocky terrain has been smoothing out the past few days and the hills are soon behind us. I expect more trees or flattened emptiness but I’m wrong on both accounts.

“There,” Mom says.

She points to a large squadron of robots far away. They’re slowly marching in a westerly direction, though not heading directly toward us. From our position, we can see a large road that they follow. I have a feeling that road cuts a straight swath through the hills. But it’s not the road or robots that captures our attention most; it’s the land on either side of the road that’s most surprising.

“Do those fields look a little too… neat to you? Too orderly?” I ask.

Mom nods. I was certainly no farmer in my former life but I still recognize when crops are being grown. These clearly aren’t growing wild, either. As if to prove this point, we spot movement among the rows of farmland, robots tending to the crops. It makes no sense.

“What are they doing?”

“No idea,” she says. “E never mentioned robots eating human food. Doesn’t leave too many other options for who’s eating those crops. Can you still move your limbs?”

Panic flashes through my mind; I can’t believe I didn’t consider this sooner. I raise my arms and flex my pincers. Everything seems to work the way it should.

“Yes, you?”

Mom moves her metallic limbs as well. Still, neither of us exactly feels comfortable.

“I don’t care why they’re growing food or who they’re growing it for,” I say. “We should go around, get as far from here as possible.”

Surprisingly, Mom shakes her head. “This is the way we have to go. We’ll just proceed slowly.”

“Are you crazy?”

Her head snaps in my direction. “Now is the time to trust me.”

I nod and follow her lead, like always. The farmland seems to stretch for miles. We avoid Robot Road but there’s no going around the fields. Luckily, the crops have grown so tall that we move among them unseen. We constantly watch out for robots, changing direction several times to avoid running into them. Luckily, the field robots are older models and probably wouldn’t recognize us as trouble even if we walked right into them.

The smog grows heavier as we continue forward, making the presence of the farm all the more confusing. Mom suddenly stops and holds up a hand. While we’ve avoided single robots in the fields so far, we hear a squadron of them approaching off to the side. She hurries us in the other direction and it’s not long until we’re near the edge of the road.

Mom gives me the signal to duck. I do as she says. Heavy robotic footsteps march in unison but these come from somewhere down the road. She doesn’t need to tell me that the squadron is moments from passing. The ground beneath me shakes. Common sense – and Mom’s expressive eyes – tells me to stay still, quiet, hidden. But despite months of learning caution, curiosity gets the better of me. The crops are thick enough in this area for me to risk crawling forward, even though I feel Mom’s eyes burning a hole through my back.

I reach the edge of the fields as the first line of robots approaches. Up close, the squadron seems to stretch forever. I push aside some plants to have a better view. While the robots aren’t as large as I am, the sheer volume – as well as the way their new metal exteriors gleam in the sun – makes them impressive. None of the squads we spotted along our journey were quite as large as this one. If Dearborn still remains standing, I can’t see it lasting much longer once these reinforcements arrive.

             
A single robot walks at the front of the squadron. I try to get a better look at it, but it’s taller than the others and the plants block my view. The lead robot suddenly stops and turns toward me. If my heart could skip a beat – or if my breath could catch in my throat – it certainly would. I let go of the plant and duck out of view.

             
It takes my brain a moment to register what my eyes saw for a split second. The rest of the army has stopped, though I hear a single set of feet stomping in my direction. I’m certain they belong to the leader, whose head was unlike any robot I’ve seen yet. While the rest of the army had similar metallic heads that in no way resembled a human head – maybe with the exception of a few slits equivalent of eyes – the lead robot wears a black dome that didn’t let me see inside. I immediately think of the dome I once wore – of the one Mom still wears – but I have no chance to consider what could be inside.

             
“Base,” a robotic voice says. “Are any humans in the field today?”

             
The voice is only a few feet away. Careful not to move my head, I turn my eyes up but only see the shadow of the lead robot through the plants. I hope I’m hidden well enough because budging even an inch would give away my position. Still, I prepare to spring into action if I must. I stand no chance against the squadron of robots but I put myself into this danger; the least I can do is fight long enough for Mom to escape. Besides, if the robots don’t kill me now, Mom just might for pulling this stunt.

             
“No, I’m not picking up heartbeats in the field,” the lead robot says. His voice has a mechanical tone but I’ve never heard a robot speak, making me wonder even more about what’s under that blackened dome. “But I have a strange feeling something is out there. Copy that.”

             
I remain poised to strike but that never happens. After several tense seconds, I watch the robot leader’s shadow turn away and continue marching, followed immediately by hundreds of mechanical followers. I remain still for a long time, waiting until the last robot footstep has faded into the distance.

I’m so focused on Robot Road in front of me that I don’t notice movement behind. At the last second I spin around, ready to attack any field robot that sneaked up on me. It’s only Mom but she looks so angry that I
still
might need to defend myself.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she hisses at me. “Those robots almost caught you.”

I know she’s right. There’s no use trying to defend my foolish curiosity. I also know there’s no reason to worry her by voicing my concerns about the robot leader. Instead, I avoid eye contact and say nothing, hoping her anger will abate on its own.

“Nothing to say, just like a child,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you’d risk everything though we’re so close.”

“We are?”

I stand taller, looking above and beyond the field of crops. Something clicks in my mind, something I can’t quite figure out, like a memory shrouded by just enough fog to stop me from seeing it clearly.

“This is the area I was from?” I ask, hoping that whatever Mom can tell me will unlock memories in my mind.

“How should
I
know where you’re from?” she snaps, still angry and unhelpful as always.

“I know you read my folder,” I say. “That information was in it.”

Mom grabs my arm and yanks me back down among the crops.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t memorize everything in your file,” she says, a little less confrontationally. “You recognize these lands?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” I say. “Something is trying to click in my mind, something that wasn’t there before.”