Clio and Cy: The Apocalypse Read Free Page B

foundation. Its secrets lay
underneath. As every other manmade structure in the world, it sat, covered in
patina. The exterior maintenance left to its defenses, oxidizing helplessly
against the untiring forces of nature. The onslaught of vegetation only mitigated
by the constraints set by father time. Ivy grew wild and covered the home’s
walls in a leafy blanket that danced in the wind. Green things towered higher
than they’d ever imagined, dreaming to reach the sun.
    The surrounding landscape appeared the same as it did
throughout the rest of the world. Eyes of the remaining survivors saw nature
conquering the land and taking over. Every spot of land was marked with
distinct footprints of the wild.
    Abandonment flashed like a raging inferno and passed the
baton of decay, winning a slow and steady race, spreading over all things not
born of this world. Cronus began to forget, day to night, to dawn, with each
turn the world’s surface changed into the wasteland of an alien planet.
    People were few and far apart. The world’s population was
decimated to a relative handful; a few thousand souls, maybe… It wasn’t a fair
fight. Man was no match against them, not in brute strength anyway; not one on
one, not even five on one. They were stronger and faster than before.
    A year into the war, Dr. Pavlov upgraded the design of his
robots as well as their appearance. Now, they no longer resembled harmless,
oversized lugs. His Smartbots looked the villainous part. Robots were the
Destroyers of men. Earth’s survivors nicknamed them - Ker.
    Four commandos stalked the home. The end of World War III
was within reach. Grasping to steal it back, fate rested in their hands. The
elite team of freedom fighters converged on the secret lair. Finally, Dr.
Pavlov’s hideout was known.
      The quad moved
through dense brush, hearing waters fizz in gentle rhythms around the brink.
Earth’s moon hovered low and close, pulling blue waters into the mysterious
ocean deep. Frothy liquid churned over the shoreline, retreating, and grappling
down the sand in bubbles. Salt and dampness filled the air, penetrating beyond
the Atlantic hem. The warriors could smell it drifting inland over the dunes.
    The laboratory home on Jekyll Island was kept close to the
vest. From the time he perfected his QAI designs, Dr. Pavlov kept it secret,
even from his wife when she was still among the living. Through many dead
scouts, the resistance eventually found the goddamn place.
    Fighting in all seven years of the campaign, LT Jonathan
King had become a drunk. He loved his family but wasn’t the father and husband
he should have been, not that he was around much. A hollow shell, the man
slipped from his former self. He couldn’t help being that way; it was just the
way things were. War, seven long years; it changed people.
    LT King was the second man in the patrol, following his
point and leading the elite team on the assault. Their mission of destiny was
in sight. The grand old home sat in a tired and beaten vision.   Stalking from behind, they aimed their steps
toward a ventilation shaft that edged the woods. An underground passageway was
one hundred twenty yards from the back of the house.   The team gained closer and scanned for Ker,
swallowing fear with each step.
    Courage of warriors who put their feet on the ground was no
less important than it had been a thousand years ago. Old things still rang
true in this desolate world. Men’s guts and bravery still won the battles. So,
too, the weapon of surprise was still the ultimate tactic. Their plan: sneak in
undetected and enter the tunnel. Ironically, breaking and entering Dr. Pavlov’s
lab would stop the war this time.
    The commandos closed on their mark. Skirting the tree line
and gingerly booting down with each step. The point man suddenly raised a fist
and halted, stopping the three men behind him. They waited… Patiently, the men
covered their assigned area of security, aiming their rifles