Leo Frankowski

arm between the elbow and shoulder, shattering
the bone. The thrown rock missed the man but barely touched the plastic bag as
the car tridge
was ejecting. The spent brass bounced back toward the chamber, jamming the bolt
temporarily. One bit of good luck, anyway.
    As the LDU bounded to
the top of the woodpile, his right lateral tentacles extended and pulled his
wounded arm
to his side. At the same time, he dropped the rocks in his left hand and
extended his dagger-claw. This razor sharp knife-shaped claw was normally
sheathed in his forearm, out of the way. Extended, it went a foot past his
knuckles.
    The human was
clearing his weapon, tearing the plastic bag in the process, as Claymore landed on
the roof. The carbine was coming down fast, but the LDU was faster. He got his
dagger-claw between the man’s arms and made an efficient upward thrust two
inches behind and under the man’s chin. It went up through the base of the brain. Death was
instantaneous.
    The weapon fired
once more as it hit the roof, sending a round into the house below. A human screamed in pain.
    Claymore disengaged
himself from the corpse and picked up the carbine. He was familiar with the theory
of firearms,
but he had never actually fired one. He tried to hold it as he had seen the human do,
but with only one arm and a vastly different anatomy, it was impractical. He held it in his
left hand like a pistol and fired a tentative round into the roof.
    “Damn it, Jim!
Cut that out,” sounded from below.
    No. The rifle was
completely unsuitable for use by a one-armed LDU in close combat. Still, he had
to disable it, and he might as well do that by expending the ammunition. Claymore
emptied the clip into the roof at random places. There were cries of anger, but no
more cries of pain were heard. His arm was beginning to throb, although his left lung
had started working again. He considered calling for help and letting
somebody else do the mop-up.
    “Now what the
hell are you up to?” A man came out of the house angry, then started up in
disbelief. In one hand he carried a long shiny knife. Titanium. This group had apparently
foraged rationally.
    Claymore was still
holding the empty rifle, and saw no reason to miss a chance at an opponent. He threw the rifle down hard, striking the man in the forehead
with the butt, caving in his skull.
    Another human ran
from the house, ignored his fallen comrade, and picked up the carbine. He tore a
clip of ammunition
from a plastic bag. This was a possibility that Claymore hadn’t considered, but there
was nothing to do now but rush him, broken arm or no. He leaped from the roof as the
man was turning to look up, landing with both front feet on the man’s head.
Claymore weighed three
hundred pounds, and the man’s neck snapped
easily. Three down. Maybe four. He picked up the carbine as the last three humans boiled out of the house, swinging clubs.
    Claymore turned to
meet them with his good arm holding the carbine by the barrel. Fighting with his dagger-claw would
have been more efficient, but he was reluctant to let go of the weapon again.
It was loaded and with only one hand, he couldn’t remove the clip. He decided to use it as a
club.
    The men fought well
as a team, trying to encircle him, and Claymore had to retreat. The man with the
bleeding leg
stumbled a bit and the LDU was on him, ducking a downward blow, and following with a
roundhouse swing that connected with the man’s neck. Four.
    He ran over the
downed man and swung around wide to catch the next human in line alone. Ducking
under a lateral
swing, he rammed the carbine butt into the man’s solar plexus, and followed with a
down stroke to the head. Five.
    Claymore discarded
the carbine now that there was no
one behind him to pick it up. He attacked the last man. Seeing his five comrades die within a minute was too much for the fellow. He dropped his club and
fled. The LDU was on him in three
paces and, with a single hack, severed the man’s neck bones and spinal cord.
All.
    Claymore walked back
to the house, his right arm throbbing and bleeding slowly. As he passed each man, he
slit each throat to be sure of a clean kill.
    He found what was
left of the human female in the bedroom.
    Claymore. Gamma 5723
here. How did it go?
    Claymore here. Mission accomplished. All
six males are deleted. The female took a long
time dying. I wish you had called me
sooner.
    Gamma 5723 here. I wish I could be
everywhere, or that there were more of me. When I