I Am Automaton: A Military Science Fiction Novel (8 page)

“Make it to the other side.”
Then the sergeant closed the door. Peter heard him engage the digi-lock from the other side.

What was the point of this? Was he just supposed to meander through the maze? He was pretty sure he remembered the way. If not, it wouldn’t take much to figure it out in short order.

“Begin,” he heard Sergeant Lockwood yell from the other side of the door.

Peter began to walk through the rooms. It was dark, so he used his Mini-com Multi-tasker as a light source. He strolled from room to room
, feeling foolish. Was something supposed to happen? Was this new technology somewhere in the maze?

That’s
when he heard it.

Footsteps. But the gait was strange. It was a shuffling, if he was not mistaken. It was coming from one of the adjoining rooms. He crept quietly into the next
room, put his back to the wall, and listened. Someone else was definitely in the maze with him, and the mystery guest was zeroing in on his position.

The footsteps sounded like they were somewhere in front of him, so Peter ducked into a side room. He then attempted to circumvent the room that was in front of him, all the while taking great care to be silent. He didn’t want to give away his position.

The strange thing was that as he would cross a room and then stop, then cross another room and stop, the footsteps seemed constant as if his pursuer never stopped.

The effect was unnerving enough that in his attempt at circumvention
, he cornered himself into a dead end. However, as he turned to exit the room, he heard the shuffling closing in on him. He cursed his sloppiness.

Peter was able to see a dark silhouette moving towards his
room, but the silhouette appeared odd. It looked as if the person was hunched over, and it shambled around like a prisoner shackled at the ankles.

Peter
readied himself for who was coming through the door. Would he be shot at? He prepared to make a dash around the figure and through the doorway once it entered.

Peter was not prepared for what wandered into the illumination of his Multi-tasker. In fact, he wondered if the dark was playing tricks on him.

There, by the dim light of his Mutli-tasker, was a man in a black, form-fitting suit. Was this some new kind of uniform? There was something off about his face. Perhaps it was a trick of the shadows.

“Okay, so you got me. Did I lose?”

The man did not answer, he only stared at him with the most vacant of expressions. Then he began to shuffle forward.

The gait didn’t sit right with Peter. Why would a soldier shuffle, particularly in a combat situation?

“So what’re you supposed to be?”

The man reached out a hand. Peter took it as a greeting and shook the man’s
hand, but the man’s grip was unusually tight, and he began to pull Peter closer.

“Hi, I’m Lieutenant
…” But Peter saw the glazed eyes, which now widened in some kind of frenzy. The man gripped Peter by the shoulder with his free hand and pulled him close.

He opened his mouth, and Peter smelt the sickly sweet aroma of putrescence on his breath. Something was wrong. Peter knew this feeling, and he became alarmed.

He struggled to pull himself away from the man, but the man possessed an unnatural strength. He remembered his Aikido and spun out of the man’s grip, causing him to trip over his own limbs and fall to the floor.

Peter backed into a corner. “What the hell’s your problem? This exercise is over.”

But the man was hoisting himself up. When he was kneeling on his left knee, he looked up at Peter and let out a ghastly moan that sent chills up Peter’s spine.

Peter knew at that moment that he had to get away from this soldier. He dashed around the man, barely dodging a swipe of the man’s arm, and he ran out of the room.

He began to navigate the dreaded Labyrinth room-by-room with shuffling and moaning only a couple of rooms behind. As he struggled to remember his training and his past experiences with the Labyrinth, his mind ran wild with terror as to what was pursuing him.

The panic was inexplicable, but found its origin in the most primitive recesses of his mind. There was something definitely wrong with that soldier, and the knowledge that he was pursuing him triggered a potent revulsion and the most basic instinct to survive.

However, the terror was unsettling to the point of distraction, causing Peter to flounder about clumsily in the dark maze. As Peter ran and bumped against walls and found himself going in circles, the constant shuffling gait always right behind him never ceased.

Peter must have reached a room with an exterior
wall, as there was a boarded up window. He threw himself at the window, hoping to go through, but the boards were fastened tightly and he ricocheted off and fell to the floor.

The man appeared in the doorway and saw Peter on the floor.

“Soldier, state your name and rank.”

As if in response, the soldier reached out his hand and moaned. It sounded like when a strong breeze is caught by the mouth of a large empty jug. It was not a sound a natural man made with his lungs.

Peter stood up. “This exercise is over, soldier.”

The
soldier, ignoring Peter’s declaration, reached out and grappled with Peter again, causing him to drop his Multi-tasker. He heard a crunch as he struggled with the man in the dark. The man must have stepped on it.

“What are you?”

The man only moaned as it opened its mouth. Peter wedged his forearm under its chin as it snapped its jaws at him only inches from his face and clawed at his clothes with his nails.

“Stand down, soldier! That’s a direct order.” He managed to wiggle out of his grip and ran towards what he estimated to be the back of the maze in relative darkness.

The shuffling continued, the moans bearing down on him sending his mind reeling to the brink of madness.

“Let me out! Sergeant Lockwood, this exercise is over!”

He ran frantically through rooms, slamming into walls and clipping his shoulders on sides of doorways, but his adrenaline was pumping and he was feeling no pain.

In his
alarm, he must have gotten turned around and ran right into the soldier, who in reaction wrapped his arms around Peter, nearly squeezing the breath out of him.

He was face to face with the soldier, whose white eyes widened. He opened his mouth and hissed loudly at Peter.

“Sergeant…” He struggled, as the man’s grip would not allow him to draw breath, like a boa slowly but surely constricting around its prey. “Get…me…out.”

The man opened its jaws and leaned its head into Peter. Peter closed his eyes and no longer fought blacking out.

Suddenly he was dropped to the floor hard. It was dark, and his vision was blurry. He made out the silhouette of the soldier standing over him, but he did not move.

There was buzzing in Peter’s ears, but as he regained his bearings he began to realize that the buzzing was not coming from within his ears.
He stood up rather unsteadily and backed away from the buzzing soldier until his back hit the wall behind him.

Bright lights flashed on, and Peter was able to get a better look at his antagonist. The soldier looked like hell. His face was ragged, the skin pulled tight over his skull like tanned animal skin, and the eyes were severely clouded with cataracts. There was no expression on his face.

Peter heard the tone of digi-locks disengaging, and in a moment, Sergeant Lockwood and Major Lewis stepped into the room.

“What…what is this?” Peter asked to either man, still catching his breath.

Sergeant Lockwood was holding some kind of transmitter. “No worries, Lieutenant Birdsall. He’s quite harmless at the moment.”

“Quite harmless,” Peter parroted acerbically.

Major Lewis put his hand up to Sergeant Lockwood in warning, “Sergeant…”

But he was too late. Peter lunged at Lockwood, punching him square in the jaw with such momentum that they both fell to the ground.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Peter yelled hoarsely into Lockwood’s face, sprinkling it rather generously with spittle.

Major Lewis was pulling Peter
off Lockwood. The buzzing soldier just stood there stoically, frozen in time and rather unmoved by the drama.

“Lieutenant Birdsall, stand down.”

Peter backed away from Lockwood, who picked up the transmitter that he had dropped and glared at Peter.

“I can explain everything,” said Major Lewis. “Let’s go to the debriefing room. Sergeant, put the ID away.”

Lockwood nodded and saluted. Major Lewis left the room, and Peter followed giving the now still soldier a last glance on the way out.

He followed Major Lewis into the debriefing room and closed the door behind him rather abruptly. Major Lewis leaned up against the table in the front. “Have a seat, Lieutenant.”

Peter sat. “With all due respect…enough riddles, Major. I want answers.”

“I understand your confusion, son, but it was important that you saw it for yourself. The ‘ID Program’ stands for Insidious Drone Program.”

“Drone? That man looked dead.”

“Undead, actually,” Major Lewis corrected.

“Undead? You mean…zombies, sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I suppose you could call them that. In the twentieth century, in the early 1990’s there was a civil war in what was then Rwanda
, between the Tutsi and the Hutu.”

“Yes, I remember something about it from Twentieth Century History class.”

“Well, then you may have remembered the genocide perpetuated by the Presidential Guard, the Rwanda armed forces, and extremist militia targeting those who supported the Arusha Accord. Nearly one million Rwandans were killed. That was nearly ten percent of the population.”

“Yes, but the Rwandan Patriotic Front got their revenge, didn’t they?”

“Well, yes, but that’s on oversimplification. In 1992, the production of coffee, their main export, went down, and since most of the land was dedicated to growing coffee, there wasn’t enough food. What resulted was famine and disease.”

Peter was wondering what this had to do with zombies.

Major Lewis continued his explanation. “Even after the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) retook the capital of Kigali, disease was still rampant. In fact, there were reports of civilians becoming sick and turning to cannibalism. Soon RPF soldiers had fallen victim to this mysterious sickness. The Hutu fled to the Congo.

“Later, when the US-backed Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire entered the Congo with the RPF, they encountered what first appeared to be refugees wandering through villages.

“But these refugees were afflicted with the mysterious disease and were devouring everyone in sight. They were unsure if these were agents of the French, who were backing the Hutu. Curious about the phenomenon, the Alliance forces followed them, observing from a distance.

“They observed the afflicted hunting down and cannibalizing Hutu refugees. Thinking that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, they attempted to approach these afflicted individuals with disastrous results.

“So they captured many of the afflicted, killing some in the process out of self-preservation, and they were extracted secretly by US Special Forces. The press blamed the RPF for the slaughter of the Hutu refugees in the Congo, but it was written off as a justified response to the genocide.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Zombies in the Congo? It sounded like the plot of a bad black-and-white movie. “So…that soldier in the Labyrinth, he’s a…”

“Yes.”

That explained the blank expression, putrescent smell, and the man’s constant attempts to try
to eat him.

“Lieutenant, I know this must be a great deal for you to digest. But, we’ve found that they make the perfect soldiers, combining unconventional and psychological warfare. They never need to be fed, they don’t dehydrate, they never show fatigue, and in numbers
, they can swarm and overwhelm just about any position.”

Peter recalled the footsteps in the maze. “The soldier in the maze was relentless.”

“Yes, and it drove you to panic. That’s the psychological component that we didn’t even anticipate until the field tests.”

“Field tests?”

“Just image your panic if we threw forty, fifty, or even one hundred of these Insidious Drones at you.”

Peter didn’t want to, but he got the point.

“And furthermore, they can be sent into terrain normally inaccessible to live soldiers. Just imagine, finally we can breach the cave systems of Afghanistan. All we’d have to do is pour a few hundred of these bad boys into the caves, and they would just keep wandering through, sniffing out terrorists…”

“And eating them?”

“But no lives of American soldiers would be risked. They are the ultimate drones. And we could apply this not only to caves, but any terrain not easily accessible by traditional means. It even has applications for urban warfare.”

A few hundred? How many of these things did the army have?