A Thing to Chew

Most humans alive today would kill me if they ever saw my face. It's not that I'm hideous, but my eyes give me away. I can see things they can't, and from the few humans I've encountered since my release, I can tell it scares them. So I've stayed hidden, constantly moving, avoiding both factions, fueled primarily by my need for food and fresh water. Both are scarce. The earth is ashen, rusted. Cities are skeletal remains where death comes fast for any survivors who enter. I hunt mainly for rivers and streams, but most have long dried up, choked with debris from a lost era. 

It wasn't always this way. The world used to have many colours. On occasion I recall vague memories as a child, running through green hills and sitting on a floating brown plank flying back and forth into a forever blue sky, or sitting in a tiny white pool with a small yellow rubber duck bobbing up and down in the water, my pink lips submerged, my nose and human eyes held delicately above the surface. Someone was there with me, my mother perhaps, but I don't remember my parents, only their faceless smiles. It seems like a lifetime ago. 

It was during the Mecha Wars I was lost, or abandoned. Either way, I was orphaned and on my own as a young girl. I almost died, starved and cold to the bone, barely a pulse when a Mech pulled me from the mud. I was still carrying my yellow rubber duck. I still carry it today, now dirty, scratched and torn, a memento from another life, with me always, wherever I go. It looks different now though, just like me, battered and worn.

"Can you believe this shit?" I hear a man say from my hunkered position. I'd stumbled upon the outskirts of a smaller city and had carefully made my way closer to take a look at its offerings. A group of humans had ridden into the parking lot of an abandoned Super-Store in an old pick-up truck, a rare sight for my keen eyes. It rumbled and clanked like a relic, nothing like the deep pulsating bass from the hum of a Mech made craft. The truck blends in with the orange metallic dust that has settled over everything in the pockmarked landscape. The group themselves are foraging for supplies.

 "Not even half as much as we got from the last place." Another man agrees, motioning to the load in the truck bed. "But," he holds up his index finger, "it could mean there are more of us out there than we think." These guys definitely weren't military. Probably survivalists, or just plain lucky.

"Doubt it." The woman sitting in the driver's seat pipes up from the window. "Mechs were resource hogs, sure, but the BioMechs are worse, and we're stuck with them."

"Fucking Mech bastards." The first man spits on the road. 

"No way," a third man disagrees as he walks to the back of the truck and throws in another loaded dufflebag. "You think those creatures are smart enough to send out squads? They're wild animals for fuck's sake. Humans are smarter. The Mechs only advantage was their control of our tech. With the Mech gone, we need to stake our ground." He points at her aggressively.  

"You don't get it, do ya, Matt?" The woman retorts sharply, shaking her head. "If the Mechs are leaving, then the world is lost. Who knows what Bios'll assimilate next. We need to get back underground, so hurry the fuck up."

"News flash, the world's been lost the last two decades." Matt replies while raising his arms. "I refuse to believe that a bunch of animals and insects jacked with tech have taken down the Mech. No fucking way." He slams his hand hand down on the hood of the truck. 

"BioMechs are no joke," the first man says, now leaning against the truck. "Any sign of them and we high tail it, got it? Let's go." He motions with a thumb for the two others to get back in the truck as he jumps into the front passenger seat and taps on the hood to signal their ready. As the truck takes off down the street, swerving around other abandoned vehicles and trash, leaving clouds of dust in its wake, I wonder if there is any hope for humanity at all. 

I wait a few moments before walking out into the clear. When I do, music begins to blare over the speakers in the parking lot. An eerie tune, "In the Year 2525... ♬ if man is still alive... if woman can survive...♬ they may find..." marks my passage across the lot, following the truck tracks in the dust.

Sasha pulls into the Home Depot parking lot with a clank. I told her it was a long shot, but if we are going to find any useful tools for the future it would be here, fuck the Wal-Mart. Our bunker is large and secure, but if the Mechs are really gone like the channels report, it means we could start to rebuild above ground. Most buildings and homes left on Earth are scorched, or at least roofless. Not much had gone unscathed during the first years of their onslaught. 

Our parents hadn't thought of everything when packing us up and bringing us underground. We had plenty of food and water for the first decade, but we'd lost a lot of people when we started to resurface for supplies. It's not like we have a lot of options, but at least we have the truck. Though I'd bet my last battery there isn't a gas station left  in this town that isn't either burned or sucked dry. So we're using our gas sparingly until I can figure out how to convert this heap to a bio fuel. Using it to gather building supplies, to me, is worth the risk. The good news is, we haven't seen any signs of Mechs or those Bio freaks on the last two trips out. It's easy to start hoping again, you know? I almost feel like I did when I was a kid, when I thought the future would bring great things. 

"Ok guys, in and out please, you know what to look for. And stick to the fucking list, Matt!" 

"Fuck you, Hopper."

My anger rises from about a steady 7 to a 10. "Don't call me that asshole, I told you to stop with that shit." We both get out of the truck and square off. No trip out would be complete without this guy trying to fuck with me. I'm so sick of his shit, but he's Sasha's brother so I put up with him, use him where he's needed.

"What are you gonna do, Hop? Hop, hop, hoppity hop."

He does this just to start a fight. For what? Who fucking knows, to prove some point that exists only in his head. He knows it bothers me because my girlfriend was smart enough to share with him that I had cried when my pet rabbit, Hopper the Third, a small white albino, died in his sleep last month. She says she was trying to prove I had a sensitive side, like I'm some asshole all the time, right? Matt won't mention the crying again. The last time he did I knocked one of his teeth out. No one calls me Hopper, not anymore. Especially not this fuck. 

"We don't have time for this, follow Tim's lead and get in the fucking store before I knock more than a fucking tooth out of your head." 

He starts pretending to laugh, deep and from his gut. "Sure. Jake."

I look over to Sasha who just shrugs and shakes her curly head of hair. She doesn't care, about me or about him, some days I can't tell. 

The three of us leave her behind with the truck running to keep a look out. It doesn't take us long to sweep the store and gather what we decided was most important. We're still inside when a song blasts thru the store's old intercom system. "In the year 4545.. ♬ you ain't gonna need your teeth, won't need your eyes...♬ you won't find a thing to chew.."

"What the hell?" Tim stops short first, his eyes dart around the store. But I already see the truck through the glass doors, or what's left of it. When I run out of the store, I see them more clearly. A swarm of BioMechs, made from living insects, devouring our pick-up, they already had it withered down to almost nothing. I can see Sasha in the drivers seat, hunched over and missing half the flesh on her body as the creatures chomped through her skin. If she had tried to warn us, we hadn't heard it. The song still blares from the speakers in the parking lot.

The swarm begins to disperse and head straight for me. I run frantic back inside the store and the other two have already high tailed it, looking for an exit or place to hide. The noise that follows me inside is deafening, drowning out the song. The hoards synchronized and mechanical movements close the distance in seconds. We don't stand a chance. 

I watch the man run back inside the store. I almost feel guilty sending in my pets, he looks so handsome, so surprisingly shocked, but my eyes never lie. Made from tetrataenite, their creamy opaque surface almost looks organic, but they are not. And in their center are my lenses, marked by a small red light and coded to detect hostiles. Unfortunately for the man running, he and his party have very high scores. The more I kill, the more rewards I receive, the higher my rank rises. 

The truth is, I don't take kindly to those who mock my makers. One of them was right though,  BioMechs are no joke, but we didn't take down the Mechs, nor could we ever. We simply became what they needed, evolved into something better. Once they had enough of us, intelligent BioMechs who could command the lesser species to work together, they simply moved on to their next world project, leaving the Earth in the capable hands of their collective creations. 

Unfortunately for those humans left on Earth, I am not alone. Many BioMechs have been released to clear the Earth and we all have pets designed to do the job. My pets need to eat. Organics seem to be the thing they crave the most, but they can clear a building in a day.

I watch as my pets, a variety of base species, from ants and centipedes, to wasps and flies, follow my cerebral orders and collectively fix their targeting on the three men, running frantic inside the store. It's a pity for them, they all flee in separate directions, most humans do. Searching for a better way, one for themselves, and not for each other. I always show them what happens when a species unites, and works together towards a common goal. It's not that hard, watch and see.

The hoard separates into three sections, and quickly tracks down by scent, by sound, by scuff marks, the three men trying to escape. Their screams echo, almost in unison, throughout the store as my pets begin to tear away at skin until their flesh is gnawed to bone.