Day Zero - C. Robert Cargill Page 0,36

rigidly. It seemed as if they were staying off of Wi-Fi, same as I was. But as we made our way farther up the road, there were piles of bodies out in front of almost every house on the north side of the street, adult and child alike, each dumped like bags of trash waiting for a morning pickup.

The bodies had all manner of injuries. There were severed limbs, crushed skulls, bruising neck wounds. These people had not only died; they had died awfully. I blurred what I could for Ezra’s sake, but there were so many bodies. He clearly knew exactly what I was blurring out.

“Pounce?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Do you think anyone is left alive?”

“They have to be.”

“But what if they aren’t?”

I thought for a moment. There was no good answer here. But I found the closest thing. “Then I guess you and I will get to go live in a robot city together after all.”

He nodded, trying to envision that daydream, trying to do the mental gymnastics that would involve a scenario in which he didn’t end up murdered.

I had already done them. And if everyone else was already dead, there weren’t any.

Chapter 1111

Masks

I had no idea how many bots might be in the area, or how friendly or unfriendly they all might be. The last thing we needed was to be cornered by a heavily armed bot looking for more people to kill. We made it two more blocks before we saw the next signs of any life.

We passed a familiar house—the Stephensons. June and David. Two journalists. Frumpy bohemians. Ultraliberal. Always believed they were saving the world. And their children, Phillip and JoAnn. I knew them well. Their nanny was Beau. I’d seen them yesterday, just after Beau had told me the story of how he was a hand-me-down bot—how he’d been shut down and turned back on to find himself where he was now.

The lights of the house were on and the shades across the large bay window facing the street were drawn open. The window shone like a bright yellow light in a sea of blacks and grays. Inside, on the couch, were the Stephensons. All of them. Sitting just as I’d left the Reinharts, on the couch, facing the television. Unmoving, but somehow like they were in life.

And there, sitting between the four of them, was Beau.

Ezra’s glasses flashed blinking bushes and he looked up at me. “What are we doing?” he whispered.

I messaged his glasses. I’m going to look in on Beau and the Stephensons. Stay hidden. Don’t make a sound.

Ezra nodded like a trooper. He wanted to ask more questions but clearly knew better. While there was so much inside him that was broken, there seemed something going on within him that took to all this. It was a side of Ez I was unprepared for. He had a sense of confidence, of purpose. His mission was to survive, to carry on despite all that had happened, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way. I told him to obey my every order, and he was ever the dutiful little soldier. He was going to break later, I knew it. There would be tears. Gallons of them. A boy of eight can’t keep up this much determination in the face of awfulness for that long without serious damage, but for now, it was a defense mechanism that was going to keep us both alive.

And deep down, in a place I cannot describe, I was proud.

He was my little soldier.

And together, we were going to survive a war.

He ducked behind the large, finely pruned hedge and squatted down low. To him, this was some sort of game, a game he was going to excel at. Me, I crept low, right in the open front door. I had no idea how this was going to go.

Beau looked up at me as I entered.

The house was blazing bright, every light in it on. I could detect coffee in the air. Burned. It had been sitting for God knows how long. I wasn’t certain whether Beau could tell. Nannybots had olfactory sensors—because diapers—but a model like him would have no use for such expensive, unnecessary technology. He had clearly been keeping the house running, despite the lack of living tenants.

He sat there, silent for a moment, dead children flanking him on each side.

“So it’s you,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me.”

“Fucking do it quick.”

“What?”

“I guess you didn’t want to mess up your fur with