What the heck was that?!
I was just sitting around, watching a group of zombies fight over some unlucky son-of-a-gun’s humerus when something large strolled into town. The gray robot was about twelve feet tall with a rocket launcher mounted on one shoulder and Gatling gun on the other. It headed straight for me, one hydraulic foot stomping after the other, reminding me of a high noon showdown.
It didn’t bother cloaking itself; it just walked right up to me and stopped.
“This is it,” I thought to myself. Surely they’d seen me by now. “Was it the hushpuppies?” I asked. There was still half a bag left and more in the kitchen. Since the unit still had power, I could cook up a batch of frozen dough from the freezer. Heck, these didn’t taste half bad, and I was certain that the dough was still good. Perhaps I could offer a few.
The robot stood there, unmoving.
My heart raced. Would it do any good to beg for my life? And what if they hadn’t seen me yet? Who was I kidding? The game was up! If I didn’t want to be blown to bits, I’d have to comply with their every demand, which I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do yet.
No, begging for my life was out of the question. At the first sign of weakness, they’d exterminate me along with all of the other mindless lemmings. They might even mount my head on the empty plaque in the dining room below. There were eight in all. Was I worthy of that wall?
The gray behemoth stared into my soul.
“Please…don’t,” the words escaped me as I heard a low rumble surging behind his titanium enclosure.
Below, a zombie took notice of me. Somehow he’d heard my whispers over the robot’s engines, or perhaps he’d finally caught onto my scent. When that happened, I had a whole new problem entirely. If the zombies didn’t know that I was up here before, they certainly did now. And I couldn’t just set fire to the neighborhood like I did a few months ago. The soldiers would cut me up and feed me to the hordes one piece at a time if I tried such a thing. It was a good idea not to piss them off.
Metal turbines on the robot’s upper back grinded furiously, lifting its feet off the ground.
This was it. I had no choice whether I lived or died next. It could blow me to kingdom come or fly off into space. But I would not give up my position, not even to surrender. There was still a chance, however slim as it seemed.
Arcs of white light streaked over the robot’s metal skin.
I didn’t move a muscle, couldn’t move a muscle. I just sat there in awe, a lowly, humble servant about to meet his maker. If this is it, let it be swift. I am ready for you, Bethany. Let your love lift me into your care.
As I stared down the barrel of his mounted run, it slid aside. Three blades of light emerged from his balled fists. He surged forward, floating over the land with ease, and swiped the unsuspecting zombie hordes. Torsos and limbs were severed off with surgical precision. Heads bounced off the pavement; arms and intestines entangled on low-hanging signs. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! It sliced the air, and in the blink of an eye, their ranks were cut in half.
When the zombies finally realized that they needed to defend themselves or crawl back into their holes, it was over. The metal titan had dispensed of them in seconds without firing a shot. In a gratuitous sense of timing akin to winning the lottery, I thanked him from the bottom of my heart as he touched down and stomped away, careful not to let the words reach my lips this time.
Forget about the armor. I had to get one of those!
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