Last of his kind [Nov2013]

Beyond the parapet the soldiers approached. It would be but a few more hours for the tanks to join them and breach the stronghold, the only barrier keeping the soldiers from attacking.

As I watch them, the soldiers arrive and fall in place forming a corps d'arm consisting of every arm of the military, I notice the General pull a man out of his brigade and walk him to his already constructed tent.
Acting as a portable headquarters, the tent was massive. To think this could be set so quickly made me think of how resourceful these humans are.

It seemed like yesterday, so fresh in my thoughts, that these same humans adored me, and all others like me. Remembering the love we shared with them made my face smile,
but the feeling of love had taken a path of destruction.
The smile melted away leaving behind an ugly frown. I spit as if this would take the bad feeling I have away with it but the bitter taste remained.

I process the situation, trying to concoct a way out of this trap. Similar traps have already taken the others like me. I am the last.

As I stare into the imminent doom below, I watch as the General and the soldier with him exit the HQ tent. The General, a radio to his ear, stared back at me. Suddenly, the General lowered the phone, shaking it to his side, the phone shouted the order to the soldier still with the General and in that silent moment, the soldier took the phone from the Generals hand as if the timing of this feat was rehearsed in advance, to perfection. So much so, that sweeping the arm containing the now phoneless hand, the arm rose in front, the crescendo building to climax as the index finger of the Generals phoneless hand locked in rigid attention pointing with venomous hatred directly at me. As the General’s face joined his finger’s realm forming a massive smile, I hear the drone of propellers, getting louder and building thundering percussive waves, and know now, the bombers attack. The General's smiling head nods.

Out the back door I ran, to my stronghold. Could my feet carry me fast enough?. The question formed completely as I break my stride before the edge of the parapet’s rear cliff's edge's ledge. I must stop and evaluate my options. A blink of an eye was time enough to realize that there was but one option. Here, the parapet stopped, revealing the cliff that held my fate beyond me. Now we will meet, I, in it’s clutches must break free!
Without hesitation I race. My feet carry me to the edge of the cliff and in perfect stride, I launch myself over the ledge as a long jumper would in a track meet back home.

The cliff rises 400 feet, with a speckling of fir trees growing out of the steep rocky cliff face. From above, the firs looked like the pachinko game on ‘The Price Is Right’, and like on the show, I, being the ‘chip', fall, glancing off of fir trees to the right, at my left and some firs connecting with hard blows to my torso. As the firs pitch me back and forth amongst them, suddenly I am spit out the bottom like a shotgun skeet launched into mid air.
My landing was rough. The injuries I sustained were bad, but functionally, I was no worse for wear.


I shake of the rough landing while I try to compute a new plan of escape. I have to doubt anyone would attempt following me over the cliff, which keeps me positively hopeful. In case the General thinks I would go east to the desert, the riskier decision I choose is to head north. My plan will take me into the thickest of forests, robust with heavy brush and not easy to blaze or track, even for me, then into the snow.

I calculate this route will buy me time until tomorrow and I stumble through the brush, slowly distancing myself from the pursuing soldiers. The troops will not track me at night and dusk is approaching fast. Feeling that I have made enough distance from the posse on my tail, I make camp for the night. By sun up, the soldiers will continue after me like hounds on a fox hunt, but for tonight, I will rest.

As I relax myself within the bent brush of an abandoned bear bed, my thoughts once again drift back to the crime scene of the human victim, who’s death created a strong argument for those who despise those like me, ultimately causing such a panic within society, that an all out war on us was declared. Within weeks, most of us had been captured and executed.
Within the third week, we have been exterminated such as an ant or spider might be when invading a human home, but I am not an ant; I am not a spider; I am an individual.
The last individual of my kind, just as those like me, now extinct, were individuals..

I wonder, if I just expose myself flying a flag of truce, approach the soldiers compound, enter the HQ Tent constructed within, march face to face with the General, speak, and straighten out this whole eradication thing. If I could convince the General that this was all a misunderstanding, a simple mistake just blown out of proportion over the recent accidental human death involving one of us and subsequent to it, the sole cause of the massacre of my kind.

I understand that this idea is of zero probability, and I repeatedly self-analyze the theory invoked by humans, that we are evil and, the evil will end upon my death, I being the last of us still alive.

It was difficult to get into sleep mode with the weight of the world heavy on my shoulder, but I finally managed.

Before I awoke, soldiers were upon me. A genius plan it was. Face Palm! One I, or any of us, as well as the humans, would not have predicted. I was caught. I lost. AFace Palm!
I wondered why the soldiers did not put an end to me as they overwhelmed me, rendering me defenseless. My question would be answered now. The General approached, double-stepping a bee line towards me his sunglasses mirroring my reflection back at me in contorted warped undulations. The General stopped suddenly with a boot jacking the ground just in front of me. He looked me over as if I was the last piece of meat in the world and he was the only carnivore, starving as well as hungry for the kill. Taking a deep breath through his nostrils, the now exhaling General spouted vehemouthly,
“You are a sneaky little bastard. You know, I’ve been on your tail most of the week now and you put me in a bad mood son!, A bad mood.”. The General slid both hands into his
front pants pockets, (excluding his thumbs which twiddled against the pockets in a nervous twitching motion). The General continued, “Do you even know why you are still alive?” Exhailing, the General choked on his own phlem, causing him to hyperventilate, and with quarter note intervals, he gasped in such a way that his attempts to inhale produced a haunting drone, then a snort sound. The General began to cough uncontrollably, the fit lasting 10 seconds, an eternity at the moment.

Red-faced from the coughing fit that stifled his breath, the General stood, bloodshot eyes complimented his red…no, his now purple face. As quickly as the General stood, he now collapsed, dead as dead can be.
The soldiers were en masse, but turned to each other with looks of concern as if without the General, they did not function.
At this very moment, every soldier but one, turned in retreat, and ran.
The soldier who did not run said to me, “I know the human’s death was an accident. It was the General who declared war wanting your kind to become extinct. He is gone now. There is no one with a warrant against you.
Robot, Are Free.