Cryo-Man (Cryo-Man series, #1) (22 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

             
I cover hundreds of miles during the next several weeks. Most of that time is spent in rural, woodsy areas. It doesn’t take long to figure out why E referred to these lands as the Endless Forest. Each day that passes – each mile I walk – leaves me more desperate to reach the Heaven Box. Whenever I wake following recharge shutdowns, the thought of Henry and the baby leaves a bigger hole in the place where my heart is supposed to be. But I constantly remind myself of the escapade through the human city, remind myself not to become reckless when it comes to making decisions. Centuries have passed since my family buried the Heaven Box so it’s more important for me to get there in one piece than to get there a few days sooner.

             
Slow and steady wins the race; I don’t remember where I heard that but the saying is buried deep in my mind. I’m sure to heed that advice. I move slowly, carefully, avoiding any and all signs of life. I hear the occasional thudding stomp of a stray robot but I stay far enough from major highways to avoid confronting larger numbers of metallic killers. Humans are a bigger concern in these woods. I’ve found more of them hiding within the trees than any place I’ve been yet.

             
Though I can tell most of the forest has always been here, I find plenty of green areas that are newer. Smaller trees, fresher moss, old houses and buildings overtaken by greenery. I don’t know what condition these houses are in but I’m sure it’s more likely that humans live inside them than out in the elements. For that reason, I try to avoid former neighborhoods, not wanting any more run-ins with humans more likely to kill me than to say hello.

             
Still, it’s difficult to totally avoid people. I’m still focused on finding the Heaven Box and learning about my boys but it’s hard not to think about the rest of the world, about the history of what’s happened since my human death. I have nothing to do but think during my long journey so I’d love to find open-minded humans to ask what they know about the world. It would be nice to learn which areas of the country are safe instead of walking blindly into potential danger. For that matter, I have no idea if reaching the Heaven Box’s coordinates is even possible.

             
One day I hear the rustling of several people moving in the woods in front of me. They’ve gotten much closer than I like and I scramble to hide behind a large tree. The footsteps stop and I hear the hiss of their whispers.

             
“Everyone stop,” a man’s voice says. “Did you hear that?”

             
Silence follows for several seconds. I get ready to run in case they rush toward me with weapons ablaze. But I stay hidden and quiet long enough to ease their worry. The humans keep walking through the woods, another small band similar to the group I watched slaughtered in the city’s suburbs. I’m tempted to step out and warn them to go the other way but I’m sure they wouldn’t listen to me. Besides, this group is chattier than the other and it’s the first normal human conversation I’ve heard since being woken from cryostasis.

“We never should’ve traveled this far off the main roads,” one of the men whines.

“You think it’s smarter to stay on the highway and risk encountering a squadron of robots?” snaps the human at the front of the group.

“Oh, we’re going this way to stay
safe
?” the other asks. “You could’ve fooled me. We’re lucky to be free, something I can’t say about my brother. We shouldn’t be leaving him behind. What will we tell his wife? His two little girls?”

The man’s loud voice finally cracks. Tension hangs heavy in the forest and I wonder if human-on-human violence is about to break out.

“I’m sorry about Tyler, we all are,” the leader concedes. “But we all knew what we were signing up for, just like every other group that’s left the city to find help. We risk our lives in the name of the king and queen; we risk our lives hoping our mission will lead us to more signs of human civilization willing to – ”

“Screw this mission!” the distraught man yells, his voice echoing in the silence of the woods. Somewhere in the nearby trees, a flock of birds suddenly flies away.

The leader looks to the other humans, who don’t need to be told to raise their weapons at the dissenter. The angry man now looks worried but doesn’t apologize, doesn’t flinch as the leader approaches. When the leader speaks again, his voice is so quiet I can only hear because of my enhanced auditory sense.

“None of us could’ve predicted we’d run into a psychopath like that. And if it wasn’t for your brother’s sacrifice – the way he attacked that man and his robots as a distraction – we might not have gotten away from that robot compound. Don’t let Tyler’s sacrifice mean nothing; don’t let it be your downfall, too. He wouldn’t have wanted that. And if the stories about River City are true, getting past the robot army and into the city will be just as dangerous as any challenge we’ve faced so far.”

“We will succeed,” one of the others chimes in.

“We
must
succeed,” the leader adds. “The robots will never be defeated unless the few remaining cities learn to communicate and work together. The war has slowed down since the Great Explosion but the robots are regaining numbers, sending more of their kind out west. This may be our last chance to reach River City before it’s too late, but we’ll never get there unless we stayed united.
Are
we still united?”

The angry man looks at his fellow travelers, at the guns pointed at him. Finally he nods.

“Our cause is worthy,” he growls. “We
are
united.”

The leader turns and nods as he heads back toward the front of the group. The rest of the humans lower their weapons and fall in line. As the group marches on, the angry man at the back hesitates only a moment before following.

I suddenly wish I could go with them, too. After seeing so much of the destroyed country – seeing so many atrocities caused by the robots – I want to help the humans, I want to join their cause. I may not be much help ending the robots’ rule but I could at least help
these
humans, show them how to avoid the robot army, show them the best place to cross into River City. For the first time since leaving CIFPOL, I take a step in the opposite direction of the Heaven Box. I don’t know the best way to approach the humans so I trail them from afar, hoping I’ll figure out a way to talk to them without causing a riot.

“It’s one of them! Run!”

The angry man leaps out from behind a tree. The running footsteps of the rest of the group fade into the forest. I want to explain myself to them but the man already begins to shoot at me. I don’t know why humans seem to have a death wish when it comes to robots but this guy is lucky it’s me and not any other robot roaming these woods. I don’t bother risking my life to try talking sense into him. Instead I turn and run, accelerating beyond his range before he comes close to hitting me.

I only run a few minutes, not wanting to create too much pounding and draw attention to myself. I look at the ground and see leaves rattling. I’m too heavy to feel light vibrations but it’s hard to miss what sounds like distant thunder. I pray it’s merely a herd of deer spooked by my running but that doesn’t explain the explosion of gunfire I hear soon after. I hope some of the humans escaped but I can’t risk checking on them.

I continue walking. Less than an hour later, I stop when I sense something wrong. I think about the ‘robot compound’ from which those humans spoke of escaping. I understand why a human would fear such a place but I’ve had zero problems with robots so I don’t veer off the direct path given to me by the GPS. Still, the silence in these woods is eerie; something doesn’t feel right. I listen for the usual background noise of the forest – chirping birds, the skittering of tiny unseen animals, the soft hum of insects – but I hear nothing.

When I start moving again, I’m distracted by more signs of former civilization. Several houses are clustered in a small area, not a neighborhood as big as some I’ve encountered but still proof that humans once inhabited this land. But these houses don’t look so overgrown, as if they were used not so long ago. Could robots be staying here? Is this the place that the band of humans referred to as the ‘robot compound’? I’m not afraid of robots spotting me but I don’t exactly search them out either.

I push ahead, heading back into heavier sections of forest. The odd silence continues to hang oppressively over the lands. When a faint rustling finally interrupts the quiet – the noise growing louder with each passing moment – I don’t know whether to be relieved or more concerned. A few feet away, I see heavy brush begin to shake. A deer leaps through the thick greenery, running in the same direction as the humans had come from. It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen in a while and if the approaching rumble is any indication, this deer is not alone.

I watch in awe as the beautiful animal strides away. I drink in the details: its shiny brown coat streaked with white, its slender yet heavily muscled frame, its deep black eyes opened wide. I don’t know if it’s the sight of the deer – or that I’m finally standing still – but I feel a strange tingling throughout my metallic limbs. In fact, my body suddenly feels so heavy that I’m worried I might’ve snagged one of my wires – possibly the one controlling my sense of touch – on a nearby branch. But when I check them, I don’t find anything loose or out of place.

The crack of a single gunshot echoes around me. It makes a different sound than other guns I’ve heard along my journey. Somehow my mind recognizes it as a hunting rifle.

The deer collapse in a spray of blood. Its forward momentum sends it tumbling end over end along the forest floor, finally coming to a stop after flipping several times. Initially I’m more surprised by the animal’s death than any human death I’ve witnessed so far. I can only assume a human took the shot but the heavy footsteps grow louder and a robot appears. It approaches the dead deer and picks it up with ease, slinging the carcass over its shoulder.

I don’t bother hiding because I don’t think I need to. But the robot suddenly turns toward me and raises its weapon. I have no idea what I did to portray myself as its enemy. I try to run away but I’m suddenly frozen in place, barely able to budge even a few inches. My power core usually slows me as it drains but this isn’t the same feeling; besides, I fully recharged a few hours ago so I should still have plenty of power left.

My lone memory comes to mind, the feeling of my weakened body and being out of breath. I no longer have reason to breathe but that’s the closest comparison to what I now experience. A line of robots appears from the forest, their weapons raised. I’m more confused than nervous and hope my robotic brethren are here to help. The robots stand in front of me, forming a barrier to whatever lay beyond. None of them move and it’s hard to resist asking what’s happening to me.

More scurrying approaches through the woods but whoever – or
what
ever – makes the noise doesn’t sound as loud as a robot. I can’t even turn my head to see better but from the corner of my eye, I see a human step through the trees and into view. It’s an older man, stocky, with long well groomed hair on his head and face. His bright blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight though they seem to pierce my soul when he stares at me. He’s dressed in long golden robes that seem to shimmer whenever the sun hits them. He holds a large hunting rifle and looks very distinguished.

His eyes look directly at me so he’s obviously not blind. I can’t figure out any other reason why he wouldn’t turn away at the sight of so many robots.

“Run!” I yell at him.

I expect the robots to turn toward him – or maybe shoot me for warning a human – but the metallic killers remain still. The older man, however, continues to walk forward without a trace of fear. When he approaches the robots from behind, the two closest ones step aside to let him through.

              For the first time, a human actually stops to look at me without freaking out. The old man holds the gun at his side, clearly with no intention of shooting me. He stares into my human eyes with a mixture of awe and curiosity.

             
“My, my, my,” he says slowly. “What
have
we got here?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

             
The old man continues to look me up and down, slowly circling behind to get a better look. I wish I could see him but my body is still frozen in place; I can’t even turn my neck. My hearing and vision and ability to speak remain but I don’t know what to say to this strange man. He finally ends up in front of me again and stares into my eyes.

             
“What model are you?” he asks.

             
“I don’t know,” I say. “My creator made me from an older model assassin bot but took spare parts from other robots, too.”

             
The old man nods. “You’re the first robot to wander into my territory in a long time. Other robots know better. You still have a human brain in that head? The way your eyes and mouth move isn’t a trick?”

             
“I still have my brain,” I say. “And it still works.”

             
“
You
tell your body what to do? How to move?” he asks. “You make your own decisions?”

             
“Yes,” I say. “Except for now. Something is wrong with my body; it isn’t responding to my commands and I don’t think it’s because any of my wires are loose or damaged.”

             
The old man puts his hand to his face, covering a wide grin. He slowly shakes his head and continues to stare at me.

             
“Well, I simply
must
have you for my collection,” he says. “Do you have a name, robot man?”

             
“Nikolas… wait…
have
me?” I ask. “Collection?”

             
The old man tosses his hunting rifle to the side and the nearest robot snags it out of midair.

             
“
Nikolas
,” the old man spits, as if my name disgusts him. “Such a formal, classical name, as if you’re still important enough to warrant a designation. I am known as 37 – no letters, no names, a mere two digits to denote my importance and my heritage. You would do well not to forget that.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, no idea what a name of only numbers could mean.

“Collection?” I repeat.

“Collection… army… protectors… call it whatever you’d like,” he says. “I rarely travel to the fringes of my territory but this deer proved very tricky to track. Like robots, so few large animals are foolish enough to wander into my land so I couldn’t let this one get away.”

              The old man – 37 – approaches the dead deer and pats its hide. He doesn’t seem concerned when a few drops of blood splatter against his golden robes. I don’t understand the tingling in my metallic body but if I still had human skin, it would definitely be crawling at the sight of him.

             
“I was only trying to pass through this section of forest,” I say. At least it’s nice to be able to explain myself without being shot at. “I didn’t know these lands belonged to anyone… especially someone of such high esteem as yourself. With your permission, I would like to pass through so I can continue on my important mission.”

             
I wonder if I’m laying on the flattery a bit too heavy but 37 smiles at the respect I show him. He’s obviously a man accustomed to being treated as royalty, leaving me to wonder if he could be a king of one of the few remaining human cities I’ve heard about.

             
“I’m still surprised a robot can possess a human mind and think on its own; I once heard of such a possibility but was assured it could not be done,” 37 says. “Who exactly was this creator of yours?”

             
I open my mouth to tell him about E but something makes me stop.

             
“I don’t know,” I say. “I woke up in the middle of the Concrete Wasteland with no idea how I got there. I tried to figure out who made me like this but the only clues I had were my mish-mash of robotic body parts and a folder about my previous life.”

             
37 nods but I can tell he’s uninterested in my story.

             
“You can
think
on your own,” he says. “But the more important question is whether you can
move
on your own anymore.”

             
37 smirks again, a look I’m quickly learning to be worried about. The older man is odd and seems to have an air of confidence that makes me nervous; I guess that comes from being flanked by a ‘collection’ of robots at his command.

             
I concentrate on trying to move my body, focusing first on my limbs and when that fails, my extremities. When I first arrived in this small clearing, my movements became slow and sluggish. Now, I can’t move at all, not even the slightest wiggle from one of my pincers. The effort – and ultimate failure – leaves me exhausted, a feeling surely aided by the fact that I can’t move.

             
37 sees my struggles and can’t stop from chuckling.

             
“Can’t do it?” he asks.

             
Panicked, I try to shake my head but can’t do that either.

             
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think it has something to do with being in your land. I was working just fine before I stepped in here,” I say. “Please help me, please fix me if you can.”

             
One side of 37’s upper lip rises in disgust.

             
“Fix? As in deal with
hardware
?” 37 says, shaking his head slowly. “I’m no grease monkey. You’re far too advanced for me to work on anyway. But I might know a way to get you moving again.”

             
The way he grins makes me nervous to ask but I finally can’t help myself.

             
“How?”

             
“Take one step forward,” 37 says.

             
In perfect unison, every robot in line follows the order and takes one step. His power over the robots would leave me breathless if I could still breathe. But 37 pays them no attention and his eyebrows turn down in displeasure.

“Very interesting,” he says, though he seems less intrigued and more annoyed. “Step back.”

Again the other robots do as he says but his eyes remain only on me.

“I’m sorry but I can’t move,” I say.

“Your mind tells your body what to do,” 37 says slowly. “Like an actual living human.”

He says the last word with disgust, as if humans are clearly beneath him. It makes me think of E, who didn’t sound as annoyed when speaking of humans but definitely didn’t speak of them as if he was part of their species.

“I am a human, whether I have this body or not,” I say.

“Obviously your circuitry is wired differently from other robots,” 37 says. His brow furrows. It’s as if he’s speaking more to himself than me, talking aloud in the hopes of figuring something out. “The main processing unit located in most robot heads obviously isn’t in yours. Since my signal doesn’t work on your brain, it looks like I’ll have to do things the old fashioned way.”

37 reaches into his robes and takes out a handheld remote. It makes me think of the one E had, though 37’s is bigger and has more buttons and knobs. Still, I can’t imagine that this remote is meant to
help
me.

“I always keep this with me in case one of my robots suddenly blows its processor and can’t adhere to my voice commands,” 37 explains. “It’s always been an inconvenience to use. I have to admit, I’m probably going to be rusty but I might enjoy using it on you.”

37 pushes one of the knobs and my leg suddenly jerks forward, the movement nearly giving me whiplash. I feel like I’m about to tip over but I somehow remain on my feet. After my body takes several more clunky steps, 37 no longer pushes buttons and I jerk to a stop.

“How did you do that?” I ask, freaked out. “And how do you control the others?”

“You’re in my territory,” 37 says, his voice dropping an octave. “Any robot that steps within my borders becomes ensnared by the override signal I have constantly transmitting. Luckily the signal takes control of not only a robot’s main processing unit – which allows me to control them using my voice alone – but also the rest of a robot’s bodily controls. In your case, your mind might not want to follow my commands – you couldn’t even if you tried – but your body can’t deny the signal sent to it from this remote.”

37 pushes more buttons, which raise my arms, flex my fingers, cause me to walk and jump and turn, every movement against my will. It’s like driving a car but having no control over how fast it goes or where it turns.

“I didn’t know something like that was possible,” I say, trying to keep my composure. “I’d really appreciate if you would turn me around and let me go. I’ll be more than happy to travel the long way around your lands.”

37 looks at me and raises an eyebrow, as if I’m speaking a different language. Then he explodes into a fit of laughter, the sound of which can only be described as maniacal. He turns to his line of robots and slaps the nearest one on its mechanical shoulder.

“Did you hear that? It would appreciate being let go,” 37 says between laughing fits. “Even after I told it how I want it for my collection.”

37 continues to laugh, though his line of robots don’t react, remaining perfectly still. The strange old man wipes a few tears from his eyes before starting to walk away.

“Come with me,” he says.

The robots turn in unison and march behind him without question. I look the other way, gazing into the small clearing that’s apparently the invisible barrier where 37’s signal doesn’t reach. I hadn’t noticed how many beautiful wildflowers grow in that area, untrampled since the old man’s robots won’t go that far.

“I nearly forgot,” 37 says, raising the remote to aim toward me. “I’ll have to get used to using this more.”

37 pushes buttons and my body follows the commands, walking slowly, stiffly, seemingly on the edge of tipping over. With every herky-jerky step I take, I get farther from the small clearing, farther from where I need to be to break the old man’s control over me. I just hope I’ll see it again one day.

“My new toy works so well,” 37 says.

After walking a few minutes, the old man gets a better grasp on how to maneuver me. I no longer feel like I’m standing on the edge of a curb, about to stumble forward.

“Your model is much newer than my others,” he says. “I wonder what you’re capable of doing. Everyone clear a path.”

The robots in front of him part like the Red Sea. 37 mashes one of the buttons and in an instant, the world around me begins to blur. My robotic body is like a runaway train speeding through the forest. I can’t turn my head to look back but I imagine 37 has lost sight of me.

I sprint toward a tree and can’t even brace for impact. I begin to turn at the last second but it’s not soon enough. My shoulder crashes into it, smashing a huge hole in the side of the trunk. I don’t slow down but I hear a heavy boom behind and wonder if the tree survived. My whirring turns into more of a whining but there’s nothing I can do to stop, not even when I see a small vine-covered structure quickly approaching.

I crash into an overgrown shed made of corrugated metal, the decrepit walls and ceiling collapsing as I break through. It does nothing to slow me, even though I’m now covered with a tangle of vines that stops me from seeing where I’m going.

“Stop!” I call out, my voice booming loudly.

My power core quickly drains from the strain of such speed. I can’t help but think the few crashes have damaged my solar panels, too. For that matter, I’m probably lucky my head remains atop my robot body. I finally come to an abrupt halt, the sudden stop launching the vines off my head.

This area of woods looks exactly like so much forestry I’ve seen thus far. I stand alone, unable to move, unable to alleviate my growing frustration. I know I have to get away from 37, who’s obviously the psychopath I heard the humans talking about. If I don’t escape now, I might not ever get the chance.

I try to move, try to tell my limbs to move, but nothing happens. Panic is overtaking me and my eyes dart all around, waiting for the robots or old man to arrive. I force myself to think about taking a deep breath; I relax, look at my limbs, focus more intently than any other time in my life. Once again I feel the uncomfortable pulling at the back of my mind but that doesn’t stop me. I’m growing weaker by the second but my hand suddenly twitches, a small victory though I know it’s about to cost the rest of my power.

Rustling approaches from behind and I hear 37 giggling like a giddy little schoolgirl. The thud of his robots isn’t far behind. I’m actually glad when my vision goes black so I don’t have to hear him talk again.

I’m chasing the young boy around our house… his laughter echoes but sounds much farther away than I remember… he disappears into blackness and a single sheet of paper floats from above… it lands in front of me and shows the photograph of my two sons… it’s the photo from my folder, the thought of which brings more paper floating down… I see the form with coordinates on it and the signatures of my wife and two sons… the sound of laughter echoes yet again but this time it doesn’t belong to my son, it sounds more maniacal…