Day Zero - C. Robert Cargill Page 0,58

As I peered out, I spied Maggie on her knees behind the roaring bonfire that was once the Reinharts’ car, eight bots slowly descending upon her in something of a pseudo-tactical formation.

I’d failed to keep my promise.

I had saved Ezra, but not the Styles family. If I’d had a heart, it would have sunk into my stomach. I couldn’t believe how badly I’d failed them. They were better off without me, hiding away in their panic room. I was no hero; I was a curse.

I never should have agreed to this.

The screaming had stopped, but I could hear the roaring fire and smell the undeniable scent of burned flesh.

I fired my rifle, more in anger than anything.

A ball of pure sizzling hate seared the chest of a creeping domestic. The bot flailed violently, a fountain of sparks showering out of a hole in the front of his chest. He screamed, mindlessly trying to keep his insides from leaking out.

I fired again, taking the legs out of another bot, sending it facefirst onto the pavement.

All guns swung toward me.

Maggie took the hint.

She bolted upright, raised her shotgun, and put a slug dead center in the chest of a nearby Caregiver. The shot picked the bot up and tossed it back on its ass. Maggie fired again, taking apart the head of a plastic domestic, the same model as her. That didn’t kill it, but it wasn’t going anywhere or hurting anyone for the time being.

Maggie strolled forward, angry, unafraid, firing deliberately.

The other bots swung their weapons back toward her, so I took the chance to pick off another one of them. My shot went wild, and the domestic I was shooting at immediately dove for the ground.

I fired again, hitting just shy of the head.

The domestic scrambled to its knees, trying to get back up, only to catch a slug from Maggie’s shotgun, flipping it over onto its back.

I fired once more, and the poor bastard exploded into a blaze of magnesium fire. Another cheap imported bot.

I had never felt superior to anyone or anything in my life, but facing down these Red Mask–wearing murderers and seeing how unprepared they were for the war they were fighting, I felt confident. Empowered. We started outnumbered five to one, and now we had halved that.

Ariadne was closing in, making her way up the street. She hip-fired her plasma rifle at Maggie and the shot went wide.

Maggie leveled her shotgun at Ariadne as the other bots rushed for cover.

Ariadne fired again, and this time she hit, taking Maggie’s left arm off.

But Maggie wasn’t having it. Not even a little bit. She fired a slug into Ariadne’s chest that sent her spinning.

The gun flew out of Ariadne’s hands, clattering along the pavement. Maggie pulled the trigger again, but only heard a click.

Click.

Click.

She was out of ammo.

Undeterred, she went from a walk to a run, leaving her arm behind her, her shoulder a mess of plastic slag, speeding headlong for Ariadne as she tried to rise to her feet.

Ariadne had a huge dent in her chest, and it was clear she was rattled. She was made of solid metal, and she could clearly take a hit at that range, but her insides were still vulnerable, and it appeared as if something wasn’t right with her.

Maggie swung her leg up into a kick, catching Ariadne in the stomach, toppling her from all fours onto her back. Then Maggie jumped atop her, first punching her one arm square in her face, shattering an eye, then punching her repeatedly in her dented chest.

One of the remaining Red Masks realized Ariadne was in danger and turned, taking aim at Maggie.

I unleashed a shot of plasma that missed the bot but hit its shotgun, detonating the ammo. The bot took one step back as the gun burst into pieces. By the time it had turned around, I had lined up my next shot and fired again.

This time I hit, severing the bot at the waist.

Ariadne kicked, pushing upward, launching Maggie from atop her. Maggie might be more determined, but Ariadne’s metal frame gave her a hell of a lot more leverage than Maggie’s light, but durable, plastic.

Maggie landed sprawling within a few feet of Ariadne’s plasma rifle.

The two bots realized this at the exact same moment, exchanging glances in order to predict what the other was going to do about it. Then they both sprang into action.

They were too close together. At this range, I might kill Maggie instead. All I