Walking the Ruins

Judge and executioner

Next morning finds me once more in the shrubs at the forest's edge, close to the path between the bunker and the village. I hope this will be the last time I have to hide here.

The crossbow is perched on a rock in front of me, loaded and ready. I grin briefly, remembering the legend of a national hero of this part of the world. His name was Wilhelm Tell, a wizard with a crossbow who shot an apple from his son's head. A long story.

Kevin shifts uncomfortably by my side, nervously peering towards the bunker. A bow and arrows lie on the ground beside him.

"Anything moving?" I ask.

"Nope."

Rose and Anna are waiting on the other side of a small hill behind us. We have decided that we will shoot, then we'll run and join them.

Once more I check the fragile wire of the bow for integrity. It's a completely new one, and I pray for it to hold. I bring the butt of the weapon to my shoulder, taking aim at the path before me, visualizing Jan there, visualizing me pulling the trigger, visualizing the bolt heading true towards its target.

Everything appears unreal, and time seems to stop.

Is that really me, holding this weapon and painting such pictures in her mind? Pictures of me killing someone?

What gives me the right to be judge and executioner? When the deed I'm planning may be worse than all the crimes I have found Jan guilty of?

I realize that I have stopped breathing, and I exhale slowly when a buzzing sound seeks my attention.

"Drone!" Kevin's one word jolts me back to reality. "Let's get away from here."

I grab my weapon, and we both run back towards the hill. Reaching its top, we crouch behind a mound of earth and look towards the trail. I see the machine close to where we were only a minute ago.

"Do you think it can see us?" I ask.

"As long as we stay hidden like this, probably not," he answers. "You can't see a human through rocks and earth, even with infrared."

The drone slowly continues along the path to the village. It is followed, at some distance, by two figures. Robert and Adam, Jan's two thugs.

"Jan's not with them," I say. "He's probably controlling the drone, from inside the bunker."

"Coward." Kevin's word sounds like a curse.

"Let's go back."

I grit my teeth as I turn away. This drone is like an evil eye, watching over us, protecting Jan and his interests—a gaze haunting the place and hunting for victims.

We have to get rid of it.

It's the next day, and I watch the fire that Kevin built in front of a chalet-like house. Its trail of smoke rises into the clear air. It must be visible from afar.

Drone-bait.

Again I'm hiding, this time in an ancient village maybe one or two kilometers from the bunker. I am in the ruins of a building, somewhat above the chalet. Kevin, Anna, and Rose are a couple of houses up along the overgrown alley, in a concrete building with a massive basement.

My body hurts from the tense waiting, holding the crossbow ready. Waiting for the drone to arrive and to investigate the smoke. I am tired of it. We started the fire in the early morning, but the sun now stands high in the sky.

Frustrated, I am about to withdraw the weapon from the windowsill in front of me when I finally hear the familiar whirring sound. Quickly, I move the butt to my shoulder again.

The drone's glittering shape appears to my right, hovering down the alley towards the fire on my left side. It advances slowly, cautiously pivoting to the left and the right, in an obvious attempt to scan the surroundings with its camera. Then it halts, in a part of the alley right in front of me.

I take aim, hold my breath, and pull the trigger. But just when the weapon's recoil hits my shoulder, the thing moves again, and the bolt passes it a few centimeters aft.

Holding my breath, I watch the drone's slow advance in rapt silence. It is obviously unaware of the disaster that nearly struck it.

My hands shake as I load another bolt into the crossbow and take aim once more.

The drone approaches the fire slowly, each second increasing the distance between us. Trying to keep the weapon steady, I aim and pull the trigger.

With a metallic clang, the bolt hits its target. The craft tilts in midair, its whir changing to a screech, strangely wailing and animalistic for a creature purely mechanical. Fatally wounded, it falls, hits a concrete stairway, bounces once, and comes to rest, now silenced.

I stare at my victim, not trusting the sudden silence that has returned to the alley.

When nothing happens for a couple of heartbeats, I reload the crossbow, willing the wire to grant me another shot before breaking. Then I hurry down a stairway and into the street.

I approach the drone cautiously. My bolt protrudes from a crack in its fuselage. The machine lies upside down, its camera clearly visible. The lens is shattered, milky from a myriad of cracks.

My muscles relax, my stomach uncoils, making me realize how tense I was.

I stoop down to investigate what I think to be the bomb attached to the machine's belly. It looks like a hand grenade as I've seen it in movies. An egg-shaped body with a handle attached to it, both held in something like a claw of the drone. There is a safety pin preventing the handle from opening, with a ring at one end. A short wire is looped into the ring and attached to the fuselage.

The design looks simple enough. When the claw opens, the grenade is released. As it starts to fall, the pin is pulled out and the handle pivots outwards, activating the weapon. It probably explodes after some seconds' delay or on impact.

I feel tempted to take the thing from the claw that holds it, but I guess that would not be a wise idea.

I still study the grenade, remembering the huge explosions that its siblings created.

Then I hear steps behind me.

I turn, expecting to see my friends. And I do see them. But they are surrounded by a group of bunker people hefting spears and axes. Emma stands a little apart and points her pistol at me.

"Put down your weapon." Her voice is harsh, her face determined.

I glance at my friends. Their faces look intimidated and miserable.

Robert, the monobrowed doctor, gives me a leering grin, his big friend Adam stands beside him, his face blank. Anna's curly brother stares at Anna, frowning. I don't remember the names of the others.

"Where's Jan?" I ask, looking back at Emma. I don't really know why I ask for him, but I'm unwilling to just silently give up my weapon.

"He'll join us, soon," she answers, then she studies the sad remains of the drone at my feet. "And he'll be very unhappy, I can promise." She gestures at the fallen aircraft. "He loved this thing. And now." She looks at me. "Put. Down. Your. Weapon!"