Sweet: Well I didn’t see any regular army, but there were a lot of bodies that looked like you. They were burned, and blown apart—
Lansing: Yes, ma’am.
Sweet: Some of them were in pieces, just scattered around—
Lansing: Yes, ma’am. I get the picture.
Sweet: And then we turned a corner and we ran into what was killing them. They were these—machines. These walking machines. Like, you know, that old invaders-from-Mars book they made us read back in high school, Walls or Wells or something. There were soldiers fighting back but they weren’t doing well, I mean, no offense but you guys were getting your asses handed to you—
Lansing: Why did you keep going?
Sweet: What do you mean?
Lansing: You have your eleven-year-old daughter with you, you’re walking through a war zone, and the farther you go the more bodies you see. Why didn’t you turn around, go in another direction?
Sweet: We were trying to find the evacuation site.
Lansing: Uptown.
Sweet: Yes.
Lansing: MacroNet said the evac site was downtown. That’s what you said.
Sweet: Did I?
Lansing: You did.
Sweet: Well, it—it just seemed like the right way to go, I guess.
Lansing: I see.
Sweet: Could we take a break? I could use some fresh air, stretch my legs a little.
Lansing: It’s not really safe outside. Besides, wouldn’t you rather stay close to Emma?
Sweet: She’ll be okay. I don’t think she likes the light as much as I do.
Lansing: I’ll see what I can do. Just as soon as we finish here. It won’t be long.
Sweet: Easy for you to say. You’re not trapped in a glass box.
Lansing: That’s just a precaution, ma’am. Honestly. Now: You had encountered one of our detachments in a combat situation, is that right?
Sweet: Combat situation? Oh, yes. And that was when we ran. Emma was pulling at my hand and I was just standing there, I don’t know, stunned I guess, but my little girl’s screaming and so I snap out of it and we just run back the way we came, as fast as we can. And there are things skittering along in the wreckage after us, not like those war machines, not big, but—fast. We could never really get a good look, we were too busy running but you could hear them gaining, they made these little clattering sounds as they moved, like, like big spider crabs or something. And Emma was pulling me to the side, she’s going Mommy, Mommy in here! because she’s seen this little hidey-hole she thinks we’ll be safe in and I’m not so sure but she breaks away from me and dives into this wrecked storefront, right through the display window—well it was already shattered of course but there was glass everywhere, it’s amazing she didn’t open an artery—and I go in after her and the whole second floor has come down, there’s concrete and those twisted wires everywhere and some of those collapsed slabs, they’ve formed this little cave. And Emma dives right into it. And I dive after her.
And I know we’re going to die then, because we’re snug and secure in this little lean-to of collapsed concrete, we’re completely protected except for that open part at the front we came in through, it’s the only way in or out. And there’s something there, something—bloated. And spiky.
You know what a tick looks like? Mean little front end with needles and teeth for digging into you, and a kind of bulbous inflatable back end that swells up when it feeds? This was like that. Except it had these wavy metal antennae or tentacles or something, like the hoses off one of those old-style vacuum cleaners you had to run yourself. And it was half as big as Emma! It made this hungry little clicking noise, and its antennae were waving around in our direction and it was climbing over the rubble toward us blocking the only way out and we were dead, I just knew right then that we were both dead.
Except something shifted in the building then, something just gave way, and instead of squashing Emma and me it landed on this tick-thing and squashed it instead. This big slab of concrete, and dust everywhere, and these antennae-tentacles sticking out from underneath, whipping back and forth. That’s were I got this cut on my face; those things were sharp, like needles.
And Emma’s screaming even louder now, she’s calling out for help and those little lungs of hers are amazing, if there’s anyone within ten blocks I figure they have to hear her. But I don’t know whether to curse or pray, because that big pile of cement did save us from the tick, but now we’re trapped. There are gaps—there’s about four or five places where you can see into the rest of the store, even all the way onto the street—but there’s no way even skinny little Emma can fit through any of them. And the chittering hasn’t stopped. It’s only getting louder. I can see things moving out there, the shadows of monster ticks and other things too, I think.
And that’s when he shows up. That Prophet you’re interested in.
Lansing: Yes. Tell me about him.
Sweet: I guess he must have heard Emma. He was just there, all of a sudden. He dropped down into sight from somewhere overhead, and he was—I thought he was some kind of robot at first, you know? You see those things on National Geographic and the Discovery Channel, they’ve got those soft-bodied humanoids over in Japan? Acto, actino-something. Soft muscles, almost like ours. That’s what I thought this was at first. Except he wasn’t built like any of those nursemaid robots you see in the retirement homes, he looked like he was built for—heavy construction, or something. And Emma’s shouting Over here! Over here! and I’m right there with her, bellowing my lungs out, and this Prophet of yours, big as one of those museum statues, he just turns toward us—slow, almost lazy, like he’s got all the time in the world—and without a word he just stares through this visor the color of dried blood. Emma and I both shut right up then and there and he didn’t move for a bit, he just stood there cradling this big gun the size of a fire hydrant, sizing us up like he was deciding whether to rescue us or—I dunno—cook us for dinner.
And Emma says in this very scared quiet voice, He’s one of them. And I knew just what she meant, somehow, but you know what? I was okay with that.
Lansing: Excuse me?
Sweet: Weird, isn’t it? It’s hard to explain, he just seemed to—not look like, exactly, it was more—almost as if he smelled like one of them, if that makes any sense. And it scared the hell out of poor Emma, but to me it was almost—comforting. I forgot to be afraid for a little while.
Lansing: Mmmm.
Sweet: And he saved us. He started tearing through that concrete as if it were cat litter. And the ticks were all over him, he spent more time blasting those vicious little things than he spent digging us out. A couple of times I thought This is it, they’re going to tear him apart but they never did. And he got us out. He rescued us. I told him what we’d seen, where the bodies were, where the machines were fighting, but he seemed—distracted. Put his hand up to his helmet once, you know, as though he was trying to hear a very faint radio station. I wanted to go with him, I almost asked him to take us to the refugee camp, but Emma just didn’t like him at all, Emma never stopped being afraid of him even after he’d saved our lives. So he went on his way, and we went on ours, and that’s when you picked us up. And there’s really nothing more I can tell you so if you don’t mind I’d really like to get out of here now. I’d really like to follow the light.