Alternate Gear

By the time I reached the top of the hill, Ms. Stewart had already rounded the bend of the road and was several feet ahead of me, approaching the edge of the Bidst Woods. Crooked trees towered into the sky, sprouting twisted branches that appeared closer to evil claws that plant limbs. Without any leaves, the woods from afar look black as coal. Man, that lady sure could move, when she wanted... The disaster horn was still blaring in the distance back in town, I wanted to help, however my current situation was much more important. I was exhausted. Button up caked in dirt, extremely sweaty plus my arms and legs burned like hell. But none of that mattered. This was just my body trying to wimp out from going to save Miranda.

I admit, I'm terrified. I've actually never ventured too far into the forest, the place has always freaked me out. The skeleton-corpses of soldiers hanging from branches. Demolished tanks in the clearings. Crazy narrow paths that led to more dead ends than I could remember. The woods gave off a haunted, evil feeling that I didn't like. Tamika always gave me flack for it, but what does she know? Not like she's traveled any further. There's a strong chance I could get lost, not to mention the deadly mines and grenades lying around. It's a giant booby trapped maze waiting to swallow the weary whole. Mayor Hornwell has banned anyone from entering the forest. A construction project was even started a few years back to seal off certain pathways, but it was never finished.

I turn and face the woodlands ahead of me, bare trees sway and rattle in the warm gusts, rattling softly. Swallowing nervously, I hesitate as I watch Ms. Stewart disappear inside. She doesn't even look back. Meanwhile I'm petrified. A big punk. My knees are shaking now. Bravery really isn't my strong suit. I'm softer than a marshmallow. Granny told me that I was in tune with my finer senses; what did that mean though?

When I was in grade school I used to be bullied. Tamika was thirteen and constantly saving my ass. I remember walking through the grassy fields with her underneath a gray sky. We’re going home after a fight. Brown-flowers danced back and forth in the winds of the approaching storm. Light rain sprinkled my shirt; the collar was all stretched out. Blood dribbled down my chin from my busted lip. Tamika stomped a few feet in front of me, wearing overalls, her dark braids bounced next to her ears.

"D-Don't..." I began. "Don't tell Granny." I begged her. I knew she wouldn't approve. She' be disappointed in me. I feared that more than anything.

"I'll... I'll make something up!"

She stopped and spun around. She had a furious look in her eyes. "There's no excuse for cowardice, Deon."

That was all she said.

I wish I had guts like my cousin and the old woman, I really do. But I don't. My fists clench and I swear to myself. What's wrong with me? Why aren't my legs moving right now? I can't let her go in there alone! Before Miranda disappeared I was helping them. If I honestly gave a damn about the Stewarts' as much as I say, then this was right thing... No. This was the only thing.

Amidst the piercing town horns and the hot sun, I hear a new, shrill scream fill the air. It belonged to Ms. Stewart this time.

"I'm coming!" I yell.

Taking a sharp inhale, a lean forward and dig my boots into soft soil on the hill, preparing to jump down. The dirt immediately gives way, next thing I know, my back crashes onto the ground and I find myself rapidly sliding down the Earth mound, kicking up dust behind me. I reach the flat land in seconds. Coughing, I hurry to my feet, and bolt onto the gravel road, beginning to make my way to the woodlands, passing up the huge peanut butter cookie Miranda dropped. I barely brake into a run before I spot two shadowy outlines approaching the edge of the forest. In the suffocating heat they looked close to a mirage. Was it Miranda and her aunt? I rush on, calling out to them.

I notice their heads first. Both the toddler and elderly lady. Completely severed from their bodies. From where the necks were chopped open, fluids dripped profusely, leaving a trail of red heading back inside the woods. Their expressions were a cross between witnessing the most horrific thing one could imagine, fused with pain. Eyes wide open, mouths agape, tongues hanging out. They were dead. Murdered.

I slide to a stop, utterly frozen, sick to my stomach. The killers had each of them strung by the hair. They sported scarlet cloaks; hoods draped over their faces. Upon lifting them, the long coats parted slightly allowing me to get a glimpse.

The wide and bulky bodies of the two men were entirely steel. All silver, no skin. Joints connected by an intricate system of thin hoses, small pipes and huge black gears that rotated when they moved. One of them tilted his head and I saw his face. Quarter of a human head cut off just below the nose on one end, the other robotic. The non-living side contained a metal plate with human features etched within; slits for an eye, which glowed blue. A mouth that resembled a speaker-box more than anything, attached to more robotic equipment: Valves, hydraulics and more gears. Oh my God.

"Gears..." I murmured, my stomach plunging. I collapsed to my knees, too horrified to flee.

"Scanning." One robot spoke in a deep monotone. "Life form recognized--"

"Human." The other finished its partner's sentence. "Proceed with main objective. Eliminate."

They had slaughtered Miranda and Ms. Stewart.

And now death had focused its paralyzing gaze on me.