Johnny Hope knew the robot armies had
been created to serve Man. But war and a plague
had destroyed civilization, leaving humans as—
Slaves To The Metal Horde
By Milton Lesser
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
June 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Johnny Hope backed off warily, retreating toward the sun-dried creekbed, a jagged brown scar across the parched grassland. He carriedno weapon and as the others closed in about him in a tighteningsemi-circle his eyes darted furtively in all directions. But all thefaces were stamped, as from a mold, with uncompromising hostility.
Johnny licked his lips and said, "I want to bury them. Let me bury themand then I'll go. I promise."
DeReggio, the mayor, brandished his club—which was an old rifle stockwith half the jagged, corroded barrel forming a handle. "Go," he said.He took a long stride toward Johnny, then changed his mind when theyouth held his ground. "They cannot be buried, Johnny Hope. You knowyour parents must be burned as the law dictates."
Blinking sweat from his eyes, Johnny felt the sun scorching downthrough the glaring midsummer heat-haze. "It was the last wish of myfather," he said softly, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "That Ishould take them forth from the village and bury them with a prayer fortheir Christian souls."
"No!" DeReggio bellowed. He was a great-chested man with slopingshoulders and almost no neck. "We cannot deliver their bodies to you.We cannot let you come back into Hamilton Village and take them, foryou comforted them in their last hours and are therefore a victim ofthe Plague yourself." He pointed with the rifle stock toward the farhills, purple with distance. "Go."
Johnny shook his head, planting his feet firmly, wiping sweat-dampenedhands on the worn fabric of his denim trousers. Then he held his palmsup and said, "Where? Where is the Plague?"
"You've been contaminated."
Nearly the entire village had gathered behind their mayor now, and themutterings were angry. When Johnny began to walk toward them, hishands outstretched to show no plague scars marked their skin, someonehurled a stone. Instinctively, Johnny hunched his shoulder and caughtthe missile on his collar bone. It jarred him and left an angry redmark where the capillaries had burst beneath the skin.
Staggering back toward the creek bed, Johnny was felled by a fusilladeof stones. He crouched on all fours at the edge of the dry brown earth,head spinning, vision blurring with pain. He expected more stones tousher in the final blackness, but when he could again see clearly,DeReggio's muscle-corded legs straddled him and the mayor cried,"Enough! Let Johnny Hope depart with his life." It was a brave gestureDeReggio had made, approaching within inches of Johnny, whose parentshad been slain by the Plague. But DeReggio and Johnny's father had beenclose friends all their lives and had fought together in the last daysof World War III before the Plague brought warfare—and civilization toan abrupt halt.
Johnny forced himself upright on trembling legs. "I thank you for mylife," he said, "but not for how you treat your dead companion-in-arms."
The color drained from DeReggio's olive-skinned face. "Think what youwill, Johnny. Think it but go while you still can. And remember thatour first concern is with the living. The dead are beyond recall andthe Plague victi