of our tires grinding across pavement and the gentle soft whine of the electric engine.
We rounded a corner and came upon a blockade. Some fifty electric vehicles, their windows smashed, their roofs and hoods buckling from the weight of the cars above them, were stacked in a very deliberate wall, peppered with robot wrecks and human corpses, and running from the front of one house to another across the street. Whoever had done this had clearly stripped the cars from every house for several blocks. This was the only road out of this particular corner of the suburb and getting through meant turning around and going back through another route.
A singular route.
We were being herded.
The car barrier was adorned with several spray-painted red skulls, making it quite clear who was herding us.
I pulled our car into a driveway beset with a wall of hedges to one side to give it some cover. There was no way this was unoccupied.
“Stay here,” I said to Maggie. “I’m going to check this out.”
“You be careful,” she said.
“You too. If anyone comes near, human or robot, you just fire. Do not hesitate. Inside this car is the most precious cargo in the world. Don’t let anything compromise that.”
“Got it.”
I still didn’t trust her, but I trusted her even less on point duty. I would monitor the car locks and make certain she couldn’t get in, and I hoped for the best.
I cradled the plasma rifle in my hands and, as quietly as I could, crept around the hedges. My audio wasn’t hearing anything out of the ordinary. But I wouldn’t hear a sniper until it was too late. If a robot was sitting still, waiting for me to walk into its line of sight, I was done for. I zoomed in on all the obvious lanes of fire and hiding places, but saw no one. Just a giant, makeshift wall, too heavy and decently constructed to smash through or tear down, leaving no room on either side to pass around.
I scanned the ridgeline of the wall and saw nothing but the occasional body part—both human and otherwise. It was clear no one was here.
Then I heard the footsteps.
Metal on pavement, a bit behind me.
I slid carefully to the side, putting the hedge between me and the footsteps.
There were three of them: one metal, two plastic. I couldn’t hear the whine of charging plasma rifles, save for mine, so I probably had somewhat of an advantage.
I spun around the side of the hedge and saw them: three domestics, each carrying a baseball bat or a lead pipe, their faces painted with red skulls, their bodies slightly modified. They were painted, draped in chains, or decorated with spikes.
They looked like characters from Sylvia’s old albums. Punks. Like bizarre proto–gang members. Only they still looked like cheap model domestics meant for light housework and shopping.
“I’d stop right there if I were you,” I said.
“Well, you’re not us, are you, fuzzball?” said the metal model, still walking toward the car.
“At the moment, I’m glad I’m not.” I leveled the gun at the tough-talking loudmouth.
They stopped.
“What’s in the car?” asked one of the plastic domestics, nails driven through his rubber earlobes, a red anarchy symbol spray-painted across his chest.
“None of your concern,” I said.
“Oh, if it’s humans, it is definitely our concern.”
A shotgun ka-chunked over to the side, Maggie ejecting a round. I wanted to tell her she was just wasting ammo, but the effect certainly was dramatic enough.
“You folks should keep walking,” she said, “and let me and my friend here get back on the road.”
“I’m not sure we can do that,” said the metal domestic, slapping his bat into his open hand menacingly.
I fired the plasma rifle directly into his chest.
“Enough talk,” I said.
The other two domestics were instantly spooked. Before their friend’s body had even slumped lifelessly smoking and sparking to the ground, Maggie fired, trying to put a slug into the head of one of them.
The shot went wild, striking the side of a house some fifty feet behind him.
I fired, this time hitting his head and blowing it clean off in a shower of plastic slag and chips.
The third domestic, the one with nails through his lobes, turned to run.
I lobbed a shot of plasma into his back that dropped him clattering to the ground. His momentum carried him forward and he skidded a few feet before faceplanting ass up.
I waited for a moment, but heard nothing but the hiss of their melting plastic