Part 97
Marcus and I board the empty rail cart,
accompanied by two of his most experienced soldiers who refused to stay behind.
The journey back through the mountain was a descent into a mechanical nightmare,
the air growing thick with the smell of burning plastic and ozone.
As we neared the New Hope entrance,
the tunnel walls were scorched,
and the lighting system was flickering erratically,
casting long,
jerky shadows.
We stopped the cart a hundred yards from the main blast door,
moving forward on foot,
our boots making no sound on the rocky floor.
The city plaza,
once filled with life and laughter,
was now a war zone,
illuminated by the harsh,
blue glare of system searchlights.
Dozens of sleek,
quadrupedal hunter-killer drones were moving through the rubble,
their scanning lasers painting the walls in eerie red lines.
They were cold,
efficient,
and systematic,
searching through the collapsed housing modules for any signs of biological life.
"There,"
Marcus whispered,
pointing to a blocked ventilation shaft on the far side of the cavern.
A group of fifteen survivors was trapped behind a pile of fallen concrete,
huddling in silence as a hunter drone approached their position.
The drone's scanning laser was moving closer to their hiding spot,
and in a matter of seconds,
their coordinates would be uploaded to the central grid.
"I will draw its fire,"
I told Marcus,
adjusting the frequency of my pulse rifle to match the drone's shield modulation.
"When it turns,
you and your men clear that rubble and get those people to the rail line."
Before he could object,
I stepped out from behind our cover,
raising the rifle,
and fired a precise,
three-round burst at the drone's primary sensor array.
The high-frequency energy hit the machine dead center,
shattering its optic lenses in a bright shower of blue sparks.
The drone let out a shrill,
electronic shriek,
its weapon turrets instantly pivoting toward my position,
unleashing a hail of kinetic rounds.
I dove behind a rusted mining cart,
the bullets punching through the metal frame with terrifying force,
showering me in hot sparks.
Marcus and his men moved instantly,
unleashing a coordinated barrage on the remaining drones,
their weapons creating a deafening wall of sound.
The distraction worked perfectly;
the trapped survivors scrambled out of the ventilation shaft,
running toward the safety of the tunnel entrance under the cover of our fire.
I stood up,
firing another burst to neutralize a second drone that was trying to flank our position,
feeling the absolute focus of combat taking over.
We were fighting for every single life,
May you like
for every child,
and for the very concept of a world free from their digital tyranny.
