fired from my chest into the sedan.
The entire inside of the vehicle lit up with a blistering explosion of plasma, cooking the other bot inside before he could get out. He screamed as his insides melted and he shut down once and for all.
I swung the rifle in the other direction, shooting over my own feet, sending a blast into the chest of the recovering Caregiver as it struggled to stand up. Just as it was launching itself upright, it toppled over, faceplanting, dead.
I hopped up to my feet and slung the plasma rifle over my shoulder. I only had seconds. Ezra’s car was on fire and I had to get him out.
Maggie reached the passenger side of the car and went for the door handle.
Shots rang out. Shotguns. Rifles. Bullets slammed into the car, shattering flaming glass, thunking loudly into the layers of metal plates I had reinforced it with.
The bots had all emerged from the backyards and were taking positions behind trees and garbage cans to set up a crossfire from each side of the street.
Maggie ducked for cover.
I grabbed the door handle on my side of the car and sprung behind the door as I opened it.
The inside of the car was chaos, flames trickling in, everybody screaming.
I reached in and with one hand undid Ezra’s seat belt while scooping him up with my other. Yanking him out, I put my body between him and the snipers.
Bernice reached for me, yelling, “Wait! Take my children!”
Bullets slammed into the car as the fire spread.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” screamed Quentin.
A shotgun slug tore through the side of the car, blowing a very large hole in Bernice’s neck. Blood sprayed all over the inside of the car, over her husband, over her children. As Ezra and I cleared the car, it dawned on me that I was not going to be able to go back for them. Not under this heavy of fire.
It was all up to Maggie now.
A slug slammed into my shoulder.
It didn’t hurt. I don’t know what I expected, but I had never actually entertained the idea of being shot at, let alone getting hit by a bullet, much less one meant for me. I knew that a chunk of my fur was gone, but diagnostics were 100 percent.
I ran as fast as I could, racing toward a nearby house.
I should have been thinking about Ezra. Thinking about just how much danger he was in.
But all I could think of was the growing realization that I was never meant to be the hand-holding, diaper-changing sort. That was just the side gig. I was designed for this. To run. To fight. To kill and take a bullet to the back, the metal alloy of my body designed to keep the child in my arms from catching it instead.
This is what Sylvia bought me for. This right here. This is who I was.
Was this who I was?
Was this really what the rest of my life was going to be?
Bullets whizzed past, striking the house, shattering windows, blowing divots of dirt out of the ground around me. I ran hunched over, using my body to keep Ezra safe, weaving, dodging shot after shot. These robots weren’t designed for war, weren’t kitted out with advanced software or targeting programs. But they could still get lucky. As I ran, I prayed silently that I stayed luckier than them.
As I approached the house, I jumped, kicking out, using my momentum to slam the front door open. The door swung wildly on its hinges, wood splintering as the lock and dead bolt blasted through the doorjamb. Once inside, I slipped to the side, vanishing from any outside line of sight, and moved deeper into the house. I set Ezra down in the living room and grabbed a nearby couch, yanking it away from the wall and putting it between Ezra and the front of the house.
Then I unslung the rifle from my shoulder, crouched low, and waited.
“What about Eddie?” asked Ezra, the first words out of his mouth since I’d grabbed him.
Eddie. The Styleses. They were—
Outside, an explosion. The sound of the car’s batteries finally giving in to the flames. And screams. Terrible, terrible screams.
Dead. The Styleses were likely dead.
I heard Maggie cry out. Howl, really. In anger.
“Stay here,” I said. “I’ll check on them.”
I crept through the dark of the house back toward the front door, rifle gripped tightly in my hand. The early morning outside flickered with orange and shadows.