A few more seconds

A siren screamed as a red warning light flashed nearby jolting me out of my fishing dreams.

“I would have reeled him if I had just a few more seconds,” I think to myself as the dream faded. I scrambled out of my cot, pulling my battle gear on over my head. “When was the last time I went fishing anyway?

“It would have had to have been before the war. Before radiation and chemicals killed all the wildlife in southwestern America. Tristan would have been 8 years old, so maybe during spring break. That kid loved fishing, but she loved throwing rocks into the water more, especially if they landed near me. She threw one rock so large I couldn’t believe she could pick it up, it landed right in front of me and the splash was so big I…”

I shook the thoughts from my head. Years at war had taught me the dangers of thinking about the past when battling the real-life present.

Grabbing my rifle and a few extra magazines I climbed the stairs up from the bunker and toward the command tunnel. It had been weeks since the last attack from the southern sector and while the respite had been nice, I was leery of what a break from daily attacks might mean. As I enter the command center, I glance down at my own M4, running my thumb over a small heart-shaped locket welded into the magazine well as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

“Glad you could join us Henry,” a voice called.

It was Dominic, senior officer of the northern sector, and my direct superior. His eyes hadn’t left the maps he was pouring over and yet he knew I’d entered. He had a knack for that. Situational awareness they called it. He knew where everyone was at any given moment.

“You’re lucky I came,” I called back. “I almost caught it this time. I just needed a few more seconds.”

“Same fishing dreams?” Dominic asked, this time looking up at me, eyebrows arched. I nodded in return and a smile spread across his face. “A few more seconds wouldn’t have helped. You are a lousy fisherman in real life and in your dreams,” he laughed. “Alright, come here and look at this.”

Spread across a narrow table were maps of our area: dots identified small towns and villages that hugged the river and others that blended into the mountains. While the southern sector had technology and superior weaponry, the northern sector was pristine in our natural resources. We still had clean water, trees, minerals, wildlife. I was lucky to make it here before the walls went up, but I should have come sooner. I’d seen the signs. If I’d left when she asked me to, they’d all still be here.

Dominic’s voice brought me back.

“I just watched a video taken this morning of an attack,” he said. “Tell me what you think.”

A screen nearby began playing a video that showed the town of Whitefish, in what used to be Montana - and much farther north than our most southern border. The video appeared to be from a security camera from one of the restaurants - no sound, just video. It was morning and the residents were just starting their day. From the reflection in the glass you could see children racing each other to school while hunters and woodsmen and women gathered supplies before disappearing into the wilderness.

Suddenly, a tall metal figure made its way onto the window’s reflection. It had the shape of a human in terms of arms and legs, but clearly not a human.

“What is that?” I asked squinting and moving closer to the screen. “Are those upgraded BIODs?”

BIOD stood for Biological Inferiority Objective Dispatch, an artificial intelligence instrument of eradication, a tool recalibrated to carry out genocide. As I asked, two others appeared on the screen. They moved down the street and sidewalks as a few people gathered close. I knew immediately something was wrong.

“No…” I whispered.

A series of flashes washed out the footage from the camera for a few moments. When it refocused, smoke was coming from the “arms” of the BIODs, a few people lay on the ground and others were seen running off screen. Instinctively I gripped my weapon, my finger brushing the locket again.

“We believe those are next-generation weapons from the southern sector,” said Dominic. “As you can see they are lethal, but we think they are short-range.”

“Their base has to be near,” I grumble. “My money says they are a small team, most likely using the mountain terrain as cover.”

“That’s what we thought too,” said Dominic. “And you know these mountains better than anyone else.”

“You don’t have to ask,” I reply. “My bag is ready.”

“Good, your team is already waiting on you,” said Dominic. “Let’s hope your hunting is better than your fishing.”

——

Ten minutes later I joined the four-person team in the back of an old Army tactical vehicle. I didn’t know them, and I didn’t really need to. They knew I would lead them to their prey, they would take care of the rest.

We started with the carnage at Whitefish and followed a very clear trail to Hungry Horse Dam. The small towns that lined the road had turned into ghost towns in the recent years, and while I was grateful to be able to drive quickly, it pained me to see everything in ruin.

“Hey, what’s that?” asked one of the four. They called her Lil. She pointed at my weapon and nodded to the heart.”

I felt my body tense. I’d been asked a million times and really, I shouldn’t be surprised when I am asked, a heart-shaped piece of jewelry welded to a weapon isn’t common. And yet, every time I’m asked, it hurts.

“It was my daughter’s,” I say. “Her name was Tristan. She died in the war."

“Oh man, I’m sorry. What happened?” Lil asked, and then thinking better of it added, “I’m sorry that was insensitive. You obviously don’t have to tell us.”

“No, I actually don’t mind,” I reply. “I think it’s important for me to remember why I’m doing this. What they have cost me.

“She was 8 and we were living in what used to be San Diego. We found out she had an autoimmune disease and-”

Gasps. They always know where this story is headed when I talk about her disease.

“My wife, she tried to convince me to go in the early days, back when BIODs were simply assisting in finding those who had terminal diseases. She just knew somehow the BIODs would be used to cause problems. I think we all thought HIPPA violations would be the worst. Then people started disappearing and it wasn’t long before we all figured out the BIODs were killing anyone with terminal illness under the banner of ‘saving resources for those who will survive.’ But I couldn’t believe they would eliminate children. By the time I realized how bad it was it was too late.

“We left in the middle of the night. With all my hiking experience I thought we could make it to Montana. We didn’t make it a day. They found us while we were sleeping. My wife tried to stop them … I lost them both.”

There is silence in the truck bed. Every eye is looking away from me and I know it’s not because they are uncomfortable, but out of respect. We all have similar stories.

An explosion in front of our truck jerks the vehicle to the side and we all grapple for something to hold on to. A wheel is blown out and the truck comes to a stop but not before the five of us jump, grabbing our gear and running into an abandoned insurance office. The driver jumps out to follow but is shot before he can let go of the door handle.

Crouching behind a desk, I take a moment to gather my bearings. I thought their camp would be in the woods, but abandoned towns make for better camouflage.

“We can’t stay here,” Lil says as I grab my binoculars and carefully peer out of the window.

A BIOD makes its way out from behind a Burger King looking for its next target. I continue to watch as a small figure runs past the machine into the Catholic church. The BIOD couldn’t have missed it, but it doesn’t respond.

“They are in that church,” I say pointing across the street.

Immediately an explosion goes off in front of our building, shattering the window. With ears ringing I grab my M4 and move with the rest of the team out of the back of the building.

We rush up the alleyway toward the church and I realize at some point we will have to cross the street - and the BIOD. We stage ourselves across from the church as a stillness descends on the street, like I always imagine the moments before an old western gunfight.

A second BIOD steps out from behind the church and joins the first. Together they make their way toward the enflamed insurance building.

“They think we’re still in there…” says Lil. Her eyes narrow and before anyone can stop her, she sprints across the road. For eight long seconds we hold our breath as she runs. She rounds the corner, hiding herself between a wall and a dumpster.

One after another, the other three follow their leader motioning me to stay as they finish the job. They stage by the door and enter.

Suddenly, the third BIOD comes into view, making its way to the door where the others entered.

I hesitate and then pull the trigger.

Everything is in slow motion as the third BIOD turns to face me. I raise my M4 again and fire.

-CLICK-

Nothing happens. The BIOD starts to raise its arm and I slap the magazine and pull on the charging handle.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

And then my rifles slams against my shoulder as it fires, the bullet piercing the robot’s metal hull. The BIOD comes to a standstill. I’m shocked.

“No really, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, this time a little louder. “I can just … shoot it?”

I hear the ground crunch and look up to see the other two BIODs have abandoned the burning building and have turned their attention to me at the same time Lil sticks her head of out the church.

“We’re all done here,” she yells to me and she and the others make their way across the street.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to those two guys,” I say nodding to the BIODs. “I don’t think they got the message.”

With a yell Lil pushes her guys across the street, earning herself a hit in the arm and stumbling to the ground.

I jump past the team and run for her, dirt flying around me as bullets hit the ground. I grab her and pull her to safety.

“Thanks man,” she says wincing at the pain. She looks past me and into the street. “I’m sorry about the locket.”

“What…?” I say following her eyes.

There, in the street a few feet from me, is Tristan’s locket. I look at my M4 and realized a bullet dislodged the locket. The locket wasn’t broken, but it was lost to me.

“No… no…” I say getting up. I can’t leave it here. “No, they aren’t taking this too.”

Lil pulled me back.

“You can’t save it Henry, you have to let it go,” she yelled. “We can come back.”

I broke free from her grip and ran into the street, diving for the locket as I hear the BIODs thunder toward me.

“I need just a few more seconds,” I thought to myself.