The Dangers of Winning the Game

Chapter Sixteen

As the sun lowered in the Atraville sky, falling behind the spires of the downtown, Zara thought to find shelter. She was still in the withdrawal from the energy and she felt exhausted. Simply walking proved difficult. She trudged to a nearby pile of junk. That was the best she could manage.

On the way, prickly weeds caught on her school uniform and tore at her exposed skin. The material wasn't designed for scrounging through this forsaken wasteland. Since she had dumped her shoes at the beginning of the journey, her bare feet were bloody and bruised. She winced with every step. The area reeked like rotting debris. 

By the time she arrived, the fatigue overwhelmed her. She hadn't eaten or drank anything all day, and she was famished. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Since pieces of old robot models were strewn throughout the area, she sat down on a broken robot leg as if it were a log. 

High above, trucks charged to and from the distant spires of downtown Atraville. She felt exposed, the torn material of her school uniform not covering her properly anymore. The trucks roared above her in a constant flow. But one thing sat unmoved: the teacher.

"Stop watching me."

She tried to yell up at it, but her voice came out as an uninspiring rasp. Wild dogs barked in the distance. Something scampered through some nearby debris, digging. She heard other sounds, too. She didn't want to know what they might be.

"I need help." She glanced upward, pleading. "Why don't you help me?" She raised her fist to the sky. "I need water. I need food. I need energy. I need help." But her calls were stolen by the thunder of the trucks.

After some time, however, she heard loud rustling from behind her. The thing must have come from the junk pile. Horribly awkward, jerking funny with its left leg not working right, it was a wonder it could get around at all. Still, it approached her faster than she could run away.

She had seen old bots called carewatchers in holos before, although she had never actually encountered one herself. This one wobbled, clunky and fat, its white smiling faceplate dirty and crooked. It stood a bit taller than her, wearing a hospital gown partially eaten by insects and moss and covered with dirt. Its stomach bulged out in front of it as if it were pregnant itself, covering machinery not optimized to fit the frame very well.

"You called for help?"

The carewatcher got right in front of her, its big eyes glowing dusty orange. Its voice didn't work right either, high and squeaky, as if its speaker had been rattled. She wondered what other things lived in those junk piles besides this carewatcher. But the smile on its faceplate reassured her.

"You need help. I'm going to help you."

She wasn't sure what the funny robot could do for her. At least it didn't attack her. In fact, she thought she'd give it a try. "Yeah, I need to find the energy."

The orange glow of the carewatcher's eyes brightened. "I will help you find the energy."

A white-robed arm gently enfolded her waist, holding her in such a manner that she could lean against it for support. Although its touch felt cold, she felt warm inside. Its support helped take some of the pressure off her sore feet. She could walk much better now.

"You look funny. I'm going to call you Clown."

"I like that name." The robot smiled. Of course, with the expression etched into its filthy and crooked faceplate, it always smiled. "Let's go find the energy."

When she tried to straighten the plate. It pushed her finger away gently, but she sensed strength beyond what she expected from a clunky robot. She liked that. It was down but not out. It was like her. She would keep going. She would make it, just like this old carewatcher.

"Oh no," Clown said while she was preoccupied with its faceplate.

"What?"

Then she heard them, five of them, sputtering in large circles around the area. Although they were still a good distance up, the jets descended rapidly, pulsing their engines as they circled closer.

Green, orange, red, silver, and shiny black, Xavier Mayor and his groupies landed their jets around the two. Xavier didn't have a hair out of place even after traveling at high speeds. His hair must be made of plastic, like the rest of him.

"See guys, I told you." He jumped off his vehicle and confronted her, a symphony of muscles with clenched fists. "You've got the marks." He pointed a finger at her, wrath all over his face. "I knew it. You're an outlaw." He got up next to her. "I know what you did, junky."

She stiffened under his accusations, backing away, arranging her torn uniform to cover her protruding abdomen better. "Did someone finally teach you how people get pregnant?"

When Xavier made to smack her, Clown reached in front of her and grabbed his arm with a claw, its orange eyes glaring back at him. "Please refrain from violence," it said with its high, squeaky voice.

It turned back to Zara with its crooked faceplate, "I will protect you."

"You're a strung-out junky." Xavier wrenched his arm free and tried to shove Clown out of his way to get at her, but Clown didn't budge.

"Please refrain from this violence."

Xavier pulled a short, thin gamma pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her. "You've got withdrawal. You're strung out, I can tell."

As Clown reached for it with its claws, Xavier jumped beyond the robot and shoved it into her chest. She tried to fight back, but fell to the ground, landing hard on her back, knocking the wind out.

Samara slid off her jet and kicked Zara in the side. "I like you at my feet, junky."

"You're just like this trash," Xavier said. "You belong out here with all this massless junk."

Kabibe revved her jet, stopping just short of Zara's head. "We got whipped because of you. I should flatten you."

The other two, Enzo and Noa, hovered above her. Kabibe revved her jet again, except when Clown jumped in front to protect her. She rammed into Clown instead, shoving the robot back away from Zara.

As Zara gasped for breath, Xavier waved the pistol over Zara's fallen and exposed body.

"You'll get executed for the energy. That's what those marks mean. You've been caught. You'll get the death penalty."

He smiled for his goons.

"But what the protons, you know, I'm here now. Why wait for Axion?"

He stooped down and poked the gun into her chest so hard that she cried out from the pain.

"I'll execute you myself."