Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Nothing at all.
AN: And this is it. I've really enjoyed writing this story, and I'm really grateful to all of you for reading it. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
August 31
Samantha had been seen wandering the area. She was still armed, still dangerous. Her sanity was questionable, if any remained after the death of her sister, and she was becoming as great a threat to the Scientist as the machines. Several of the soldiers refused to shoot her—they had been friends once, classmates, brothers and sisters in arms, and they weren't ready to kill one of their own without definite proof that she was a clear threat.
But as long as she remained alive, the Scientist had to move. He was in too much danger to stay. The last gas attack had dissipated by now, and the Scientist should, by all means, remain safe as long as he wore a gas mask. The most secure location would be somewhere with high ground, where a soldier with good aim could take out the woman and any attacking machines before they got too close.
No van this time. Even if they'd managed to find one that still worked, there was no hope of getting over the cratered, rubble-strewn roads. They went by foot: the Scientist carrying his assets (a peculiar mask-like device, a small canvas-covered automaton and the Talisman), two rebels carrying the rest, and four additional soldiers protecting the group as they marched from the bloodstained bunker to their destination.
It should have been a fairly simple task.
They should not have been caught by surprise. The killer machines had always been so large before, their footsteps announced from miles away.
They'd never been small or agile. Not like this.
It came as an explosion of gunfire, mowing down the three men in the front before they had a chance to react. One of them seized the Scientist and threw him to the ground before he too was blasted away by the stream of bullets.
Two soldiers left. They fired wildly at the creature—a machine that looked like a dog, automatic guns bursting from its sides, guided by a single blood-red eye, zigzagging around the attempts to strike it before—
TATATATATATATATATATAT
The last of the soldiers plunged to the ground. The monstrosity lunged at the bodies one at a time, its metal claws ensuring that they were indeed dead. It reached the Scientist, still quivering amidst the carnage, and its evil eye blazed.
RATATATATATATATATATATAT
The beast was thrown back, a dozen fresh holes in its frame. It snarled wildly, only to be struck by another surge of bullets, this one from somewhere else—to the left of the Scientist—no—
"STAY DOWN!"
A figure—a human figure—dashed from the shadow of the buildings, the gun in its hand alight as it charged the beast:
RATATATATATATA-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK
Out of bullets. But the figure didn't stop running.
The beast steadied itself and started to fire.
The person with the gun swung the useless weapon—like a baseball bat, like a sword— and struck the monstrosity with all its might. The beast's head and a good portion of its neck went flying; the rest of it collapsed in a broken heap.
The figure kneeled by the Scientist's side.
"Are you okay?" She checked his pulse.
"Samantha?" he whispered, staring incredulously up at her.
"You need to get out of here," she said, pulling at him to get up. "The Rebels won't be the only ones who heard that. Leave before more of those things come."
He'd managed to climb to his knees, still staring at the line of bullet holes that perforated her chest, at the crimson stain that was quickly spreading down her shirt. "Samantha, you're hurt."
"I'll be fine," she said, already scanning for more machines. "I told you, I'm never going to stop fighting."
"You don't understand," he said, grabbing her shoulder. "You shouldn't be—"
"I can still fight," she insisted, glancing at him. Her pupils were dilated. Her skin was bone-white from blood loss. Her expression was almost delirious.
"You need to rest," he said, pulling on her. She didn't have the strength to stay on her knees. She didn't have the faculties to know she'd fallen.
"I won't stop," she repeated. "I'm going to kill the machine. I'm going to save us. I can't stop until I do."
Even if the Rebels' doctors could save her, they wouldn't. Not while they believed her to be a traitor and a rogue.
She was dying.
Nothing so horrible had ever been so clear.
"I'm not asking you to stop," he whispered, pulling out the Talisman and setting it in its place on the Transfer device.
"I won't stop," she whispered.
"I know." He kissed the girl's forehead and laid the mask over her face. "You don't have to."
The brilliant green light only surged for a few seconds before the last flicker of life drained out of her.
He touched the seventh creature lightly, half-afraid to learn if his attempt had worked at all. It rose quickly, startled at his touch, and ducked into the shelter of a still-warm body.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. The creature only looked confused. Sorry for what? its expression said before it looked around again. Its eyes—her eyes fell on Samantha's pale face. She twitched away, disturbed to be so close to something dead, but the emotion ended there. She didn't recognize the face, the clothes, the death.
She didn't remember who she had been.
He closed his eyes. It was better this way.
"Seven," he said, cupping his hand around the tiny creature that Samantha had become. "Listen carefully. You will fight the machines, but I brought you here for a greater purpose. I want you to find the others who are like you. Guard them. Protect them. Keep them safe and keep them sane."
Like you did for me.
"And don't ever, ever give up. Life must go on."