They didn't stop running until 5 tripped and landed hard on his chest, stunning him momentarily. 3 and 4 hauled him to his feet, then dragged him under a wrecked car as a machine passed. At their insistence he sat, leaning against the inside of one wheel.
"But it's not safe here. We have to keep going."
He tried to get up, but 3 pressed down on his shoulders and 4 climbed onto his lap.
They look exhausted.
They had been running for hours, and 5 guessed the effects of staying up the whole night before were catching up with them. Come to think of it he was tired too.
"Okay, you win."
3 released his shoulders, but rather than get up 4 curled into a more comfortable position across 5's lap and reached for her brother. 3 took her hand and snuggled up near her face, against 5's side. Their closeness brought 5 a modicum of peace. He put an arm around 3 and rested his other hand against 4's back. 4 patted his leg softly, then shuttered her optics. A moment later 3 was also asleep. Their hands stayed entwined. All around them the battle raged, but the twins slept. 5 tried to follow their example, but every time he shuttered his optics he saw the boy's dead eyes. The woman, with a bullet hole in her head. Fire. 5 soon gave up on sleep and settled for watching over his companions.
At least I'm not alone this time.
The battle became more intense after dawn. The three stitchpunks stayed huddled together in their chosen cover as explosions began to rock the ground. 5 cringed and shuttered his optics as one of the explosions shook the car. They were still shuttered when he felt a tug on his arm. His first thought was that one of the twins had been injured. He unshuttered his optics in panic, but rather than finding his companions wounded they were up, pointing and bouncing in excitement. Through the dust 5 could just make out a small, agile form darting through the battle. Another stitchpunk, about his size but lean and pale. As he watched one of the machines fired on a human sniper in a damaged tower, knocking debris down on the newcomer.
"Look out!" 5 hollered but the stitchpunk was faster, leaping to avoid the falling bricks before he even opened his mouth. The stitchpunk landed in a crouch and was moving again with a dancer-like beauty, all grace and strength. The agile one had seen them, and seconds later dove under the car with a fluid roll to land at the other three stitchpunks' feet.
"Are you hurt?" she asked in a strong voice, but the question held a gentle edge. The twins surged forward immediately to study her with curious wonder, optics clicking. To 5's surprise the newcomer chuckled them.
"Nice to meet you too."
5 found himself unable to speak in such a splendid being's presence until she turned her optics to him and asked, "How about you? Anything broken?"
"Uh, uh, no," he stammered.
I sound so stupid!
"Good. It's safer with the others. Follow me."
5 was shaking too badly to move. She turned to exit cover, and 5 noticed the number 7 on her back.
"7, wait!"
She turned back to him, and the fear must have been obvious on his face because her gaze softened slightly as she met his optics.
"Don't be afraid. Trust me."
And he found he did trust her, despite his churning gears. He and the twins followed 7 out into hell. It was worse than any battle 5 had ever witnessed before, machines everywhere, humans dying, bullets flying, things exploding--
Just focus on 7, he thought, optics riveted on her back, Focus on 7 and run.
She set a slower pace than her arrival, and 5 guessed it was mainly for him because he knew the twins were fast. 7 had them duck behind wreckage at intervals and scouted ahead, until finally at one piece of rubble she moved just out of cover and called to someone else.
"I've found others," she said, and motioned for them to come. The three stitchpunks came out of cover to see a group of other stitchpunks clustered under an army helmet. A large patchwork one, holding the helmet up. A pale one with straps and a bullet casing hat. Behind him a striped one, fidgeting with his pen tip fingers. And at the back the last one, burlap like 5 himself but with a leather vest laced across his chest. This last stitchpunk smiled at the newcomers as they scurried into the helmet's shelter. 5 took the spot next to him, behind the twins.
"You're alright now, boy," said the burlap stitchpunk, putting an arm around 5's shoulders. His voice was gentle and aged, like the Scientist's. 5 drew some strength from his touch, then the arm dropped as the whole party began to run under the helmet.
An explosion buffeted them from behind, jaring the ground. Already lagging at the back edge of the helmet on quaking legs, 5 didn't stand a chance. He fell. The cover of the helmet vanished, and 5 found himself alone as he sat up facing the machines. He shuffled back on his rear, then fell again as he was nearly crushed by a running human. The human threw one of those flaming bottles that destroyed 5's home at the closest machine, striking it with fire. The machine fired several rounds, and the human dropped dead at 5's feet. The machines were still coming!
5 found his feet and ran. Where were the others? A heavy projectile smashed into the ground to his left, then his right. Then almost on top of him. The impact directly behind 5 launched him into the air. He landed hard on his face with a shattering sound he heard between his audio receptors, his whole head seeming to disintegrate into pain. Everything was dark when he tumbled to a stop.
What...happened?
His mind was sluggish. Only partly sensate he made a feeble attempt to get up, but fell again. Slightly tremulous hands grasped his arm and pulled it across cloth shoulders. His optics started working again—at least, the right one did. The left fed him nothing but static. His rescuer was the burlap stitchpunk with the gentle voice. The elder stitchpunk hauled 5 to his feet. 5 leaned heavily on the other's thin shoulder, the static and pain making him so dizzy he could barely put one foot in front of the other. His feet shook, but he couldn't tell if it was him quaking or the ground. Then an impact threw them both to the ground, and 5 took leave of his senses.
Awareness came slowly. 5 groaned, shuttering and unshuttering his undamaged optic. The static overlayed on his vision, but he could see the ground passing beneath him. He was being carried upright, arms slung over the shoulders of the two stitchpunks on either side of him. It was unearthly quiet.
"Are you awake, 5?" 7's voice came from his left. 5 tried to raise his head, triggering an unexpected burst of pain. He shrieked.
"We're right here, 5," the gentle voice came from his right, then a harsh voice came from somewhere near the front.
"Silence that fool or leave him! He'll bring the machines right to us!"
5 trembled, petrified. What if the others listened to the harsh voice?
"I'm not letting you leave him again!" 7 shot back, enraged, then the gentle voice started speaking to him.
"We're with you. 7 and I will look after you. I know it hurts, but you need to control it, just a little longer."
"2's right," 7 said, squeezing his wrist, "Just keep listening to him."
5 deliberately closed his mouth, but couldn't suppress a whimper of pain with every step.
"Just a little longer," 2 murmured, "Then we'll stop and I'll fix you. Until then you need to be as quiet as you can. We won't leave you, I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," the harsh voice said. 2's reply was quiet, but no less firm than 7's.
"If he leaves, I leave with him."
5 forced himself to take a wobbly step. 2 and 7 were helping him, so he had to do his best to help them in return. Then another.
"That's it," 2 encouraged him, "Just put one foot in front of the other."
5 heard the Scientist in 2's words. He pictured in his mind, free of the static, the old man as he supported 5 while he learned to walk. Through his pain he gasped, "Thank you. Both of you."
An eternity of torture later, 2 and 7 laid the wounded 5 on top of an old tin inside the Sanctuary. 5 had lapsed into a semi-conscious daze, and offered no resistance. It felt good to lie down.
"Find me a needle, thread, and something to cut with," he heard 2's voice overhead, "And a stiffer material for a patch- leather preferably." Several sets of feet pounded out the door. 2 started feeling around 5's damaged optic for further injuries, causing 5 to cry out.
"I'm sorry, boy. I had no idea you were conscious."
"I'll try to be quiet," 5 whimpered. 2 patted his shoulder.
"You never mind what 1 said. He didn't mean it."
He sounded like he meant it, 5 thought, but he was in no shape to argue.
"I need to examine the side of your head to make sure nothing else is broken," 2 told him, "It's going to hurt, but try to keep still."
5 clenched his lips together as the elder stitchpunk started to palpitate the side of his head, but was unable to suppress a strangled cry. Soon the pressure was gone.
"All done for now," 2 told him, patting his shoulder again, "Your ear and its connecting bits are intact, and the eye didn't splinter any inside your head, but--"
2 stopped speaking. 5 reached up to his shoulder and grabbed 2's hand.
"But what?" 5 asked, terrified that he already knew the answer. He was right.
"The eye is beyond repair. It has to come out."
5 couldn't respond in words; he just squeezed 2's hand tighter. He heard footfalls, then an unfamiliar tenor voice asked, "Is this good?"
"Yes 6, thank you," 2 replied, accepting a scrap of brown leather. The twins returned next with a needle and spool of thread between them. 7 entered directly behind them with a small pair of sewing scissors.
"Good, we can begin."
2 moved to look 5 directly in his remaining optic.
"I had hoped you would be unconscious for this, but the pain won't stop unless I treat you."
5 couldn't keep the fear out of his voice when he replied, "I trust you."
2 nodded, giving 5's trembling shoulder one last pat before motioning to the others.
"I need you here, 7," 2 said, and 7 came into view on 5's uninjured side. On his injured side he felt two small hands take his and another pair resting on the same arm.
"6, it might be best if you stepped out."
"I can help," came the timid reply. 2 was silent for a second, then replied, "Take his legs. Don't let him kick anyone."
5 felt a weight press down across his legs. His gears spun so quickly he thought they'd fly right out of his chest. He couldn't help but follow 2 with his eye as the elder stitchpunk picked up the scissors.
Get a hold of yourself! They're trying to help you!
"You watch me," 7 told him, staring into his good optic as she placed a hand under his jaw, "Try to stay still."
5 could only whimper, too frightened for words. Then 2 began cutting the seam near his damaged optic. Despite 5's best efforts he couldn't stop himself from trying to jump off the table with a yelp. 7 held his head still with one hand and his arm down with the other. The little hands on his other arm tightened.
"It'll be over soon," she told him, not breaking eye-contact, "Just try not to move."
"I'm trying!" 5 wailed, "It hurts!"
"He's moving too much," 2 said. 7's face disappeared from view as she threw her weight down onto 5's chest and arm, taking his jaw in a death grip. 2 was under the cloth now, severing the wiring that hooked 5's optic to the rest of his body. The injured stitchpunk knew that 2 was trying to help him, that they were all trying to help him, but it hurt so bad he would give anything to make 2 leave him be!
"Stop!" he found himself pleading, half-screeching the words, "Please stop! Please!"
"Forgive me," 2 murmured without interrupting his work.
"Bear with it a little longer," 7's voice said next to his audio receptor. One of the twins squeezed his hand.
"I can't! Please--"
He shrieked again, beyond words, then merciful oblivion claimed him.
