The Age Atomic

EIGHT



Rad raised his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger. This was it. They’d had it.

“I hope you got a plan,” he said from the corner of his mouth.

“Plan stays the same, detective,” said Jennifer. She spoke in a loud, clear voice. At her words, Elektro lowered its arms and tilted its head. Then it took the cigarette from its mouth and flicked ash to the ground.

“Ms Jones,” said Rad, “I have no doubt of your abilities, but we seem to be surrounded by robots.” Rad waved his gun, like he was showing Jennifer around a yard of used cars. “It’s been nice working with you, if you want to call it that, but I pretty much believe our tickets are punched.”

Jennifer lowered an eye to the top of her gun. “Get ready,” she said. “I’ll clear a path. On three…”

Rad frowned, but he found himself tensing his leg muscles, ready for action. Maybe the big silver gun really was going to get them out of this.

“Funny,” said Elektro, replacing the cigarette before taking a step back and to the side. He turned his silver head to the robots crowding the street. “Time to teach these two a lesson, friends.”

The robots surged forward, so quickly a few fell and were trampled by the more able-bodied behind them. Those that still had human heads or faces leered horribly, while the metallic faceplates of those more complete machines made Rad think of the robotic sailor that had made its way from the ground to the top of the Empire State building just eighteen months ago, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.

That’s when Jennifer pulled the trigger.

Her arm jerked up with the recoil that followed the whump the gun made, like a rocket being launched. Rad felt his ears pop and his mouth filled with the taste of lemon, and there was a pressure behind his eyeballs, the kind of buzzing he’d felt when he’d visited New York. He blinked, and saw Elektro twist as the air buckled in front of it. There was no flash or explosion, but it hurt to watch, like staring into the midday sun.

Elektro screamed, the sound an echoing, electronic screech as the robot vanished, leaving nothing but a single silver arm to fall to the ground, smoking cigarette in situ between two metal fingers. The other robots came to a halt, some sliding on the ice, the circle around Rad and Jennifer now small and tight, unmoving.

Blue smoke curled from the end of Jennifer’s gun as she held it aloft, barrel skywards. She was breathing hard. Rad glanced around, his own weapon seeming terribly small.

Jennifer didn’t move. Rad looked at her, and saw her eyes glance left and right, her throat moving as she swallowed. Rad had a sinking feeling.

“You going to shoot some more robots?”

Jennifer didn’t look at Rad. She adjusted her grip on the gun. “It needs time to recharge.”

Rad pursed his lips. “I guess that’s a no then.” One of the robots had moved forward and was examining the single remaining limb of their leader. The machine pivoted awkwardly at the waist and picked up the arm, then rotated its square head in their direction. “I think you pissed them off.”

Jennifer lowered the gun and looked over her shoulder, like she was searching for a way out that wasn’t there.

“I was aiming for the big group,” she said, and then: “Shit.”

The robots took a step forward. Maybe their timing was coincidental, or maybe they all spoke to one another by radio. Maybe there was a whole conversation, a debate, raging in the air around them.

Rad’s free hand found his coat pocket and he gripped the little metal rod. He wondered if it was valuable to the robots like it was valuable to the King.

Rad held his breath. The robots stepped forward again. Then there was a roar.

Rad felt his body brace itself. The robots in front of him were lit with a bright green light, and Rad’s and Jennifer’s shadows stretched out long before them. The roaring grew with the sound of screeching, the sound of fast wheels skidding on the slick road.

Rad leapt to one side, dragging Jennifer down with him. The air was filled with the hot smell of gasoline and rubber, and as Rad hit the deck and he slid on the ice, he got another face full of Jennifer’s fur hat.

Rad blinked, his ears ringing, and looked up.

The car was long and low, the chassis rounded like a teardrop. It was entirely black, polished to a grand piano’s mirror-like finish. Two tiny windows peered out from above the expansive hood, which curved gracefully down to two headlights, blazing green, mounted deep within the bodywork. The car shook as its engine revved, flames licking from the rear exhaust.

The suicide door opened wide, exposing both the front and rear seats. The driver sat, impassively, hands on the wheel. He turned to look at Rad with circular glass eyes set into a flat metal face. He was covered in a mass of black fur.

The driver pumped the accelerator and flicked the edge of his thick fur coat off the passenger seat next to him.

Jennifer pushed herself off Rad and Rad started to yell at her, tried to grab her arm, but she was too quick. She made for the car, the driver waving her in.

The man had driven the car straight through the crowd of robots, spilling them like skittles. They rolled on the street, unable to gain a foothold on the black ice. But the robots that had backed away from the thundering car and remained upright were now slowly creeping forward.

The man pumped the accelerator again. Jennifer had slid into the front and was pulling the door closed already. The robots started to move more quickly.

Rad dived headfirst into the car’s backseat, and rolled against the leather as the driver pushed the pedal to the floor.

The vehicle’s roar was even louder inside. Rad closed his eyes and pulled his feet in as the door swung back against its hinges.

The door slammed shut, and Rad opened his eyes. Jennifer was twisted around in the front seat, watching him. He gave a nod and she laughed and turned to their savior. From Rad’s position lying on the backseat, all he could see was a ridiculous amount of fur and the back of the man’s… mask? Helmet? Or was the driver yet another robot?

Rad righted himself in the back of the car.

The driver pointed ahead. They were driving fast but in a straight line, towards the giant black building. Rad heard Jennifer gasp and pulled himself forward to see out the tiny windows.

Almost on cue, a green light came on at the top of the building.

The driver changed gear, the car lurching as it sped up, throwing Rad against the leather. In the front he saw Jennifer lean forward to peer out of the narrow windshield, looking up at the building ahead of them.

“Welcome to 125th Street,” she said.