I Am Automaton

Chapter 20

Tora Bora Cave System

White Mountains, Afghanistan

Captain Carl Birdsall assembled his men outside the designated entry point. He stood outside the three shipping crates filled with a combined force of one hundred Insidious Drones clad in their black suits, hungry for living flesh.

“Lieutenant Kettle, open the crates.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kettle signaled for the crates to be opened. He deactivated the Amygdala Inhibitor kill switch. The ID stepped out of the crates and into the funnel of the reverse Vee formation.

Carl walked amongst them unmolested in the funnel. He checked the packs on several ID, counting his supplies: condensed food, bottles of water, and thermal field blankets for bedding. He felt like he was going camping, and these reanimated dead were his demented Boy Scout troop.

“We’re a go,” he shouted to Kettle.

Carl marched forward, the mass of ID following around him like an enormous entourage. One ID remained behind. Kettle had guns trained on it, just in case it decided to get nasty.

Carl led the mob into the cave, and after a few minutes, they all disappeared from view. Kettle ordered the men to form a perimeter and scan the area for insurgents. He even sent out a few scouts for reconnaissance.

In the cave, Carl led his angry mob. The whole scene reminded him of an old black-and-white movie. All they needed were torches and a castle to storm. They penetrated the cool, dark caves, the wheezing and growling and heavy footsteps of the ID echoing off of the walls.

They walked for a few hours before they encountered their first band of terrorists. There was shouting as they scattered, opening fire on the ID. Carl returned fire from within his entourage, taking out several of the terrorists while the hungry ID neutralized the rest. The screams and cries of men being eaten alive echoed throughout the cave, and then there was silence.

Carl had flashbacks of Xcaret, Mexico and his unit being eaten alive. He remembered the mirrored walls of the workout room in the hotel gymnasium reflecting the marauding dead, making it appear as if they were surrounded on all sides. He feared their numbers then. Now it gave him strength.

Carl ordered the ID to cease their attack when the terrorists were sufficiently dead and beyond reanimation. He searched their persons. On one, he found a map of the cave system.

“Well this will come in handy, won’t it,” he said to his brigade of dead, but they offered no answer. Seven kills. Not a bad start.

He began to follow the map throughout the cave system, avoiding dead ends or tunnels where there was no indicated occupation. The map had saved them from wasting time. As they went he marked the walls with a solution that would illuminate under a black light that he carried, a trail of crumbs to find his way back out.

At 12:00, Carl stopped his band of marauders to consume a quick lunch. He rested for approximately twenty minutes, his bodyguards standing by supportively, clicking their jaws in anticipation, but otherwise remaining quite still.

At 12:30, they resumed their trek further into the cave system. As they made blind turns by the light of their field lanterns and the flashlight on Carl’s assault rifle, he trained his weapon, ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

Their campaign was take-no-prisoners. The fact that they were in the caves, where only Order for International Liberation terrorists would be hiding out, made their task infinitely easier. No innocents in their right minds would take refuge this far into the cave system. That meant no collateral damage, only hard targets.

Carl consulted his Mini-com unit, but he had lost reception some time ago. He was on his own, left to the drones’ ability to track live prey. He also had the map.

They walked on for another several hours without incident. Occasionally he heard a flurry of footsteps running in the other direction, but no contact with the enemy was made. They passed through a few areas with overturned tables and chairs and some crude lighting, but the posts had been deserted.

He figured it was time to use his mental connection with the dead to send back a signal to Kettle to let him know he was still alive.

***

Outside the cave, Kettle and the two men training their rifles on the lone drone nearly jumped out of their skin when it suddenly made a movement with its right arm.

Kettle signaled for the two men to stand down. He didn’t want them blowing away their only contact to their Captain because they were jumpy.

“Look,” Kettle said, “it’s waving.”

Then the ID rather clumsily held out its right hand, made a fist, and awkwardly stuck its thumb up in the air.

“He’s giving us a thumbs up,” Kettle said, “the Captain’s all right.”

***

Although he wasn’t able to tell from inside the dark cave, night had fallen. It was close to midnight, and Carl was weary. He decided to catch some shut eye.

He ordered the ID to halt. He picked a man-sized nook in a corner of the cave and sat himself down with his back to the wall. He draped a few thermal field blankets over him, as the caves became quite cold at night, and he rested his assault rifle on his lap.

Then, by his command, a few dozen of the ID crowded around the spot where he sat, blocking him out completely from view. He ordered the others to fan out a bit and attack anything human that moved into the area. Content with the protection of his guard and his kills for the day, he allowed sleep to take him.

***

The next day Kettle was awakened in the large tent by an anxious private from the late night/early morning detail.

“Lieutenant Kettle. Lieutenant Kettle.”

He sat up in his sleeping bag, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “What is it, Private?”

“The drone, sir. It waved again and gave us the thumbs up.”

“Good. That means Captain Birdsall survived his first night. Thank you, Private.”

Kettle stood up and stretched. He put on his headgear and stepped out of the tent. “Private Fromm, report.”

Fromm walked over. “Good morning, sir. The scouts have reported back and left again. They reported no unfriendlies in the area. All’s quiet, sir. The perimeter remains intact.”

“Good. Carry on.”

***

Days passed in the cave, but due to the perennial darkness Carl’s Circadian Rhythms were thrown out-of-whack, and he was beginning to find it difficult to sleep. He slept at odd hours, which was really immaterial given the fact that their mission was ongoing for days. His signals back to Kettle were going out at odd intervals. But there was a serendipitous result. Carl’s movements with the ID became more nocturnal and, as a consequence, they were catching terrorists off guard.

Carl was beginning to lose track of the days without the use of his Mini-com. He estimated that it was around one week in the cave system. They had exhausted the map and were now winging it, but Carl had twenty-eight more kills since the initial seven, which brought his total to thirty-five.

The effects of approximately seven days of submersion in the caves left him a little disoriented, but he rationed out his food carefully and stayed hydrated. The ID were no worse for the wear, and they didn’t know the difference. They only ate in combat, they never dehydrated, and they never slept. Their muscles never tired, as the buildup of lactic acid was no longer a factor.

Carl, on the other hand, did suffer from lactic acid buildup, so for short stretches he had two ID carry him on their shoulders. He mused that he was the emperor of a cave dwelling dead culture, but the rides allowed him to recover from long stretches of hiking in the dark.

***

Outside the cave, Lieutenant Kettle was talking to Sergeant Koontz in front of the guarded drone. There was a pop and Koontz suddenly dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

“SNIPER,” Kettle yelled as everyone took cover, scanning the area for the location of the sniper. There were a few more shots fired at men taking cover.

Kettle was behind a large rock formation. He looked through his binoculars. There was no one on the flatlands for miles. He panned across, past the drone still standing there…

“Christ,” he spat under his breath. He forgot about the drone. It was just standing there, as Carl ordered. He had to get it out—

It’s head exploded like a melon from the sniper’s bullet.

“Goddammit!”

That was their only connection to Carl. Now they wouldn’t know if he was alive or dead, which left them blind, deaf, and dumb. They had no fix on his location, no status on his progress, and no idea when he would be coming out, if he was even coming out at all.

Cronos had his sniper rifle trained on the mountains. “I see him.”

The sniper was facing the sun, and his scope had for a moment reflected the sun, shining briefly on an undulation in the rock of the mountainside.

That would be his last mistake.

Cronos took a deep breath and began his mental calculations of height, distance, force, and arch. He steadied himself as the sniper fired a few more shots nearly missing Kettle’s head.

“Dammit, Cronos, take him out before he takes my head off!”

Cronos waited for one more flash of sunlight from the scope. Seconds passed like hours, and then it came. He lined up where he thought the target was, and he squeezed the trigger.

They waited. The sniper had stopped firing and appeared to be slumped over the ridge of rock he was hiding behind.

“Cartieras!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take a squad up there to confirm the kill. Cronos, you cover them.”

Cartieras later returned, confirmed the kill, and reported that the sniper was shot through the scope in his right eye. Cronos’ shot was incredible.

But the fact was that now they were cut off from Carl. Kettle couldn’t believe that they had trained to defend against flanking but had never anticipated this scenario. He should’ve had the drone in the tent or under some kind of cover. Now they were lost, or rather Carl was lost, cutoff from his own platoon.

Kettle knew he’d have to radio in to HQ to be advised on what to do. They were sitting ducks out there waiting for their Captain who might never return.

***

Days passed and Carl was beginning to encounter more and more terrorists within the recesses of the mountains. He had seventeen more kills, bringing his total to fifty-two.

He came around a sharp bend, where there were bright lights and voices echoing off of the cave walls. Carl tightened his fist and urged the ID forward. They began to pick up pace, and as their footsteps thundered in the cavern there were the sounds of panic from the lighted area.

Gun shots rang out and people hollered. Carl turned the corner in his sea of undead drones, and as terrorists became visible, he began to take them out. Shots took down several ID around him, but Carl was unharmed and unafraid. The drones swarmed the area, toppling over lighting, computer equipment, and a video camera.

On the other side of the cavern daylight crept in. There was an opening to the outside. Several terrorists ran towards the exit, but Carl cut them down. After several minutes of gunfire and cries of terror, the room was once again silent. Carl rewarded his drones by letting them feed. This was a mother lode, some twenty odd terrorists, bringing his count to around seventy-two.

He saw the camera equipment lying sideways on the floor. It was broadcast equipment. Apparently, they were working on broadcasting something. They always did, to rally their men around the world or to claim credit for an attack.

Carl, worn out from wandering the caves for two weeks, picked up the camera on its tripod and righted it. The red light was still on. It was recording.

Carl backed up and stood in front of the camera, assault rifle pointed down in bravado, and ordered some of the ID to stand behind him in the shadows.

And then he began to speak.

“This is a message to all of those who are enemies of freedom around the world. For decades, you have planned attacks on the free world in hiding, cowering in these caves. You’ve massacred many men, women, and children in the name of your perverse ideology. It has been said that you do not fear death, as many of you have extinguished your own lives for your cause.

“All that has changed. I have found you in the recesses of these White Mountains, cowering like swine. You need not fear death, but you will fear me.

“I have come for your lives, and I have claimed many. There is nowhere you can hide that I will not find you. My men do not tire, they do not thirst, they do not sleep…but they hunger for your blood, and they will not be satiated.

“Heed this warning: disband, immediately. Your reign of terror is at an end. For every attack made on free soil, I will claim fifty of your heads. I will not stop until the attacks do, or until there are none of you left. I vow this from your own backyard. You will answer to the dead. Not only to your victims, but to those in life who counted themselves amongst your ranks. You owe the free world a profound debt, and I am here to collect.”

Then he trained his rifle on the camera and shot it to pieces.