Unknown (31 page)

Whoever it was I saw earlier exited a brick and stone faced three story building, possibly a firehouse. It was hard to make out who they were from this far away, but they were wearing a greatcoat, so either they're a gholem, have a really good reason to not be seen with a shotgun or other such weapon, or possibly both. I heard my name called. Billy. Deus thank you. She's alright.
 

When she got to me I cried. She cried and held me close. She thought she was the only one left. Sara died in the initial attack, and Jak went while in the process of ripping our attacker's head off by way of one of it's companions vaporizing him. This meant the story was real. Thomas hadn't lied and there were forty soulless monsters on the loose with cold and calculating intent.
 

Billy ran while it's attention was drawn to the group that had started firing on us and hadn't noticed her own injuries, or hadn't bothered tending to them, till after they were long out of sight. My Beautiful Billy. Don't think I will shrink away from you because of a few blemishes. You're alive and we were able to get away from there. That is what was important. Your face is yours no matter if it were nothing but scars.
 

Thankfully Billy managed to save one of the horses. She wouldn't hear any talk of us taking turns riding the gelding and insisted I was in no condition to walk long enough to properly take turns anyway. We could have ridden double. It would be uncomfortable, but doable. The saddle, though, was not made for that and I didn't think the horse liked our one attempt at
having both of us on him at once. Considering with both of us as well as what little we still have it would bring the total amount he would have to carry upwards of five hundred pounds I can't say that I blame him one bit.
 

The rest of our trip was spent either in silence, listening for signs of possible hostiles, or a state of halfsleep. We were reluctant to camp, but light was getting poor and the horse needed rest. That night was spent huddled together under the new moon. We both hurt and are both shaken, but we refuse to be afraid.
 

September 20
 

The world is crazy and so are we.
 

I did not write in my journal on the way home because nothing of consequence happened. There were no encounters with killer man-made devils wielding weapons that turn people into nothing. There weren't any bandits. In fact the only remarkable event that happened was that we stopped at the old farm for a night's rest, and that was remarkable only in the memories it brought to mind.
 

We were home, and though the rumors about Belleberg now included these killer machines I dared not, for the sake of not being seen as insane, speak of what I had been through. It may seem cold and cruel, but my trying to warn anyone at this point would only land me in a place where white was the dominant color and the guests were fitted with special vests so they could hug themselves while they sat alone.
 

Finn was glad to see that the both of us had survived, though was disturbed at Billy's injuries and my story of looters going over what the army had left behind both in town and in the nearby ruins. I was grateful he hadn't replaced me, just as he was glad I am alive and able to return to my job. I still had moments of weakness, but they happen less often than they did a week ago. I think in another week or two I will be rid of them altogether. Billy had to find another job, as her employer had assumed she had made her story up to give her a few extra days off. He didn't even wait for her to be gone a week before finding a replacement. Maybe Jenny could help her find work like she did for me.
 

Life continued to go on no matter how unusual it got. There was a mad scramble for a small bit to keep the proverbial wolves from our door, but we are tolerably well. Billy was currently talking with Jenny and in a few hours I was due for my Grade 2 Wireless Certification. Given what we had seen I might eventually want to invest time to gain my Grade 3 Certification so I could qualify for service with the Merchant Caeldine fleet.
 

With what was going on though it might eventually be better if we both find a way to be more mobile, and I couldn't think of a better way of not becoming a noxious cloud of smoke than to be in the air. My voice rose and asked Jenny if she knew anything about the local airships and their crews. Logical to ask her considering she often dressed like a barnstormer, at least that seemed like a reasonable argument at the time.
 

When asked why I wanted to know I tell her that maybe a ship could use a pair of hands. Billy needed work, and even with a Grade 2 Certification I thought a few might hire me on and train me the rest of the way while on the job. Could have been wishful thinking on my part, but one never knew till they asked.
 

As it turned out Jenny did, in fact, rub elbows with several different crews and was happy to ask around on our behalf. She was even willing to give a recommendation for both of us if we needed. Bless that woman Deus, for hers is a kind heart. Maybe I should tell her. No, she'd laugh it off.
No
. I
have
to tell her. It would be a poor payment on our part for her to die because we don't want to sound silly.
 

She listened intently as we sat down with her to tell her the whole story. She didn't interrupt or ask anything till we were done. Her jaw set and her face had a grim cast to it when we told her about the robots. Billy asked her if she knew about these things.
 

"Evil, demons formed by the hands of men. Protectors, Revenge Weapons; they were called all of these and more. They were designed as shock troops in the last year of the war by desperate countries that wanted something easier to control than their rebelling Genome armies. They pushed robotics and Artificial intelligence as far as they could during the war and these man-sized creations were the end result. They were tireless, efficient, intelligent, and above all else they were loyal without pause or question to their makers." Jenny sipped from a cup of tea Billy had poured her. "That loyalty combined with Disruptor weapons made them ideal as a force to be dropped, unsupported, into enemy held territory and start killing anything and everything that they recognized as a threat."
 

I wasn't sure if this was just a story she had heard and was telling us, or if she somehow possessed some secret knowledge of those dark days. Her tone was serious. Her expression grim. She did not look like she was trying to be entertaining. "Problems started when the capacity to build these machines spread to all major nations. This is why there are maybe a few hundred million people now instead of the billions that swarmed the globe.”
 

“
How do you know these things?” I asked in a low voice.
 

She looked into her cup and continued telling her awful tale, not bothering, in that moment, to answer. "Not only were whole regions depopulated by mass killings, but the people that pulled the strings of these mechanical puppets grew more paranoid as the war entered its last few months. They started creating sealed vaults across the globe that contained whole units of these things as well as enough weapons, parts, and supplies to keep them in fighting condition for years, decades if need be.
These people, if they could still be considered people, wanted to ensure that any would-be conquerors would face their own ends by weapons that had lain dormant and waiting.”
 

She grunted and looked at us both. "The war was lost by all sides and only a few remembered that the damned things existed, and even in their own time those stories were considered overblown and too impossible to believe." We waited for more, by this point I don't think either of us cared of what Jenny said was true or fiction. Her story, and more importantly how she told it, held us.” People rebuilt outside of the old cities, fearing that dormant germ weapons, baby nukes, or even disruptor bombs were waiting to wipe out what was left of the human race. The rest, as you both know, is history."
 

"How do you know these things?" Billy's voice was quizzical rather than accusing as she asked a second time. Jenny sounded sincere, and it would explain why people built from the ground up instead of resettling the old population centers, and then there was what we saw in the ruins. That also lent credibility to the story.
 

Jenny's only answer was a smile. She had just explained a whole lot of history that what they taught in classes only hinted at, but she never explained or gave away her sources. Strange that we believe her. Stranger still that she ended up being right, at least so far as I’ve been able to see.
 

She stayed with us that night, and we were happy for the company. Out of courtesy I took the sofa in the sitting room in spite of protests that she wouldn't want to impose. It would give her and Billy a chance to talk, because Billy needed somebody else to speak to about what happened to her. She knew I would think her pretty no matter how she looked, but any person, male or female, is bound to have difficulty looking themselves in the mirror and a face marred by what she has to see. There were also the deaths of Sara and Jak. She had to watch them die. I didn't.
 

A half-remembered song drummed in my head. I cannot remember the words, but the rhythm was soothing. I closed my eyes and hoped that the worst for us is over. It wasn't, unfortunately. The 'worst' parts of one's life were always updated and redefined. Well, they were unless you lived thorough a mass genocide. I fear nightmares of walking suits of chrome and steel wielding weapons that swept the land clear like the Hand of Judgment.
 

September 29
 

Test Day!
 

Jenny and I spoke the next morning while I walked to work. She was a historian of sorts originally from Texas and had spent the past twenty years researching, gathered stories, and sifted through what scant records were preserved from the war. That would have made her close forty. I couldn't believe it, and told her so. She looked easily like a woman half that age. She responded with musical laughter and told me her secret was clean living, a positive outlook, and lots of makeup. Curious woman, I'd have to invite her over for dinner again sometime to see just how many stories she had to share.
 

Work was lively, involved three large women, and a child that wouldn't stop screaming and grabbing at things. The day wouldn't end, and I don't want to write in too great a detail of it. Little point in revisiting any of it, and I was grateful it finally ended. Finn, for once, didn't crawl into his favored watering hole after we closed up and instead started walking with me.
 

He asked if everything was alright. Of course it was why wouldn’t they be? He noticed I had been preoccupied through the day. I waved the idea off. I was fine, I told him, just didn't like what I saw when I was gone. There was no way he would believe a story involving human-like machines with the capacity to kill everything around them. So I told him of the looters, empty homes, and of losing two people that had traveled with us there. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity, and no I did not need any more time off. It was nice of him to offer, but I needed to work to get my mind off the matter.
 

He asked me if I was nervous about my upcoming exam. No, not in the slightest. I knew the theory well enough, and could work through a conversation at the speeds that I would be tested at. Morse was a soothing way of communicating. It was, to me, nearly musical in it's own way. Many have boggled at those of us that seem to hold whole conversations in our heads rather than write any of it down. I boggle at anyone that has to write the exchanges down to make sense of them. Morse was a thing that was best understood by being heard, not visualized. I looked forward to this, I told him, it was one of those things I felt good at.
 

On the way home I'd picked up several leaflets advertising for this or that place which might need work Billy was suited for. There was still time enough for me to grab a quick shower between now and time for my exam. I was nervous, but I was confident. The cleanup and change
 

of clothes were simply to put on a presentable face if they wanted to add my picture to the wall of people that had passed since the club organized. Time to go with the green and black suit.
 

I arrived a few minutes after the examiners had, but still a few minutes ahead of schedule. All of them were dressed in plain black suits neither extraordinarily well made nor cheaply slapped together. All three shook hands with me and told me, in warm tones, that they had heard about me. I gave them the stock line that I hoped not; else they would know just what a vagrant I was.
 

They lead me into a room with a receiver, pad of paper, and enough desk space by the receiver to work with. I was instructed to not touch the equipment and to copy, exactly what was sent and was asked if I understood what they just told me. I told them I did and that I was ready.
 

I told them that I was. One of the three left the room, presumably to give the text I was to translate. What follows is the text they wanted me to transcribe.
 

I hadn't even started writing by the time the ended. When I was asked why, I had told both men seated with me that I wanted to hear the entire message, since whenever I attempt to transcribe in the middle my accuracy drops. They both nod and give me a few extra minutes to write what I believe the message was.
 

Their verdict? I had not cheated, and had something that appeared perfectly reasonable. However they would have to confer with their third man to see if I had, in fact, written what he sent rather than just make up my own message. Even with the standard Q-calls (QST, QRR, CQ, and so on) most people that work in Morse, at least that I've seen, use forms of shorthand to copy the exact message. Procedure demanded they verify with the sender before moving on to the second part of the exam, but I was assured by both men that I did fine.