The Third

Within my peripheral vision, I see lights blazing. I set my book down to the ground and move over to the window. I watch as the sparks set off like fireworks and smoke rising from the flicks of fire. I watch as the large gray bricks fall down from the clouds and hit the ground with a BOOM. I see the auto-planes tilt down and the robos squash building between their toes.

I call for my Dad but hear no response. I climb up the stairs with each step taking more breath from my lungs. As I touch the doorknob, my hand's rumble as it turns. I creak the door open and rush to the bedside. I call him again but get no response. I rest myself on his chest to feel no beat, hear no beat. I wipe away the tears and look out the window. I race to his safe and insert the code. 7606-288225

I  reach in and pull out the grenade launcher. I can barely lift its weight with my 9-year-old hands. I drop it and reach for the rifle instead. I run out the door and stop as the air rushes against me, pushing me down to the ground.

All of a sudden, I see one coming. These creatures, these demons, were created by humankind. Poisoned, controlled, to destroy their master’s enemies. As programmed, it should, it crushes my houses. It twists its foot to ensure all destruction. I see blood. My father’s blood.

The robo moves onward and continues its journey. I sit there stunned as the wood continues to crumble. I see a gleam from inside the rubble. I put one foot in front of the other as I tip-toe over to the shining mystery. I reach down and pull out a mirror. It’s cracked and broken, smaller than it must have been before. I’m unsure of its origins. 

I look closer when I notice a strange blue light shining in the mirror. It starts out small then grows larger by the second. I turn around and drop the shard as I see dozens of helicopters coming full speed. I see their blue lasers and jump to the sider as it passes me, just grazing my arm.

I feel the burn, the blaze, the fury. I look around, but there isn’t water to be seen. I want to scream, to shout. But they’ll hear me and end me. I look at the lines of destruction that has been created. At least 6 feet deep into the ground has been erased. I reach down to touch a small stone, but its surface burns my fingertips. The air is hot, and my tongue is dry. I look around again in search of moisture, but there is still nothing to be found. 

I get up on my feet and turn to look around. My gut tells me that was the last wave, but my logic tells me otherwise. I sit and wait for about an hour when the grenades start to drop again. I dodge my best, but I seem to have run out of luck. I run too slow and get thrown across the land, and hit my head against metal.

When I wake up again, the robots are walking by. I sprint toward them and hop up onto one’s foot. I take a deep breath and get ready to climb. My father has prepared me for this, trained me, pushed me to the limit. I am strong.

I reach up and pull, lock my feet in and push, reach and pull, lock and push. This continues for what feels like an eternity but is only half of an hour. I reach the head and break the glass. I quickly pull out my gun in case of any living beings, but I sense no one is there.

I hop into the emergency control seat and relax. I’ll keep a lookout. Perhaps I could join the enemy side. No, it’s not what I wish. No, it’s not what I trained for. But if I don’t, I’ll die, and then there will be no chance of their defeat. 

I hit off auto-pilot and connect to the ongoing call.

“Who is this?!” A deep voice grumbles.

“My name is Henry Jenkins, sir.” I squeak out. All of a sudden, nerves kick in. “I am here to be your servant and follow your every word.”

“But you’re just a kid!” The man shouts and hear every other human laugh. Even the data and info robos laugh, though it’s just a program.

“Sir,” I say while trying to keep my composure. “I made it up here into your robo from the ground. I hacked its system and managed to find a way to call you. Would you call me weak?” I know I’m lying. I didn’t hack a single thing, just pressed one button. But from his extreme need for advanced robos, I don’t think he’s smart enough to figure out I’m not telling the truth.

“Well…” He starts to think. “You may be helpful to our organization. Let your robo finish the mission, then come to headquarters.”

“Yes, sir.” I end the call. I don’t know where the headquarters are, but this robo might. Maybe I’ll have to do some hacking after all.

I turn back on the auto-pilot and open the food compartment. I pull out a water bottle and chug it down with intense speed. Sure, my father trained me for this. But it doesn’t seem real. It’s all so crazy, and I don’t know if I can end it. World War III.

We’ve known it was going to happen for about a decade now, but we didn’t know when. We knew who, but we didn’t know why. We knew tactics, but we didn’t know where. So we prepared with what we did know. No school, no breaks. 16 hours a day, we trained. Rock climbing, shooting, hunting, sparring, cooking, tricking, lying, all the essentials.

I told him this wasn’t for me. I told him he should find someone else. But he told me I was special. I never knew why. But when I looked into his deep blue eyes and thought back to our lessons, I knew he was telling the truth. So I believed him.

He never told me why he chose me. He said I would find out on my 16th birthday. We both knew he wouldn’t survive until then.

I should be tired. I should be mentally exhausted. But instead, I watch out the window as too many homes, too many families, too many people are destroyed. Erased. Their lives are gone. Could I have done something differently? Would it have been worth it to try? Am I doing the right thing?

I’m still just a kid. And I wish you were here, Dad. I miss you. I need you.