Rowdy Dead Productions

By David C. Daoust

Charles the First dropped down off the Sky-screamer almost as soon as he had landed.

The flames– he could feel the heat even from his distance from what was, a few moments ago, a massive explosion.

Something moved within the wreckage, of this, he was sure. From the sound something that moved with purpose. Every few seconds, there was a loud slam, and the hull would suddenly bulge– something was trying to ram its way through.

The First Wave teenager could not imagine what it may be. What could possibly survive such a wreckage? His Grandfather’s ‘Screamer could be heard above. Its anti-gravity engine, rigged to fly at heights it was never intended for, emitted a high-pitched scream as the old man circled above.

Charles’ dared to approach, covered the lower part of his face with the nook of his arm, all to fend off the blackened smoke… and the heat. All to try and get an idea of what was trying to break free of the wreckage.

His grandfather soared in lower, landed close to his own vehicle.

Charles was pretty sure he was signaling him away from the debris…

Suddenly, there was a massive blast and a huge portion of the wreckage blasted outward.

Charles was blasted backwards with it. He felt a tug at the flesh of his arm, and his upper face was now blackened with soot.

First thing he did was glance back to where his grandfather was moments before… nothing but smoke.

The young Charles Haul was winded. He was down, surrounded by chaos, panic threatened to set in…

His grandfather plunged through the wall of smoke; dropped down to his side, checked him over briefly for injuries. Charles felt his arm sting… found the gash, clean through his jacket… and into his flesh. The old man lifted him, pretty much like a rag doll. The younger did not know where the oldman got the strength. Charles managed to clutch tightly as he was hauled away— back to their vehicles.

All of which was puzzling enough before what exited the newly formed hole in the wreckage— stepped forth! It was a broad chested metal man; A bot maybe, surely no droid Charles had ever witnessed… It was not quite as huge as Vincent in his mining-bot form —though the similarities were there. Its arms though, its fists– massive, Its shoulders wide.

More, such machine-men, followed. Each looked formidable… The largest of which, was clearly to thank for their freedom…  for the gaping hole in the wreckage… and the gash in Charles’ arm.

His grandfather lowered him behind their vehicles, motioned for him to stay silent as the small brigade marched from the wreckage.

They did not all match, though their size and build were generally the same; each unique in their own way. One of which folded in on itself, great buzz-saws protruded from its now rounded form, began to spin, and screech as it shot forward, leaving massive gashes in its wake. It led the rest from the wreckage, out into the dunes which surrounded them.

They ignored the two Charles Hauls… or did not see them. Either way, the group of machine-men cleared out as quickly as they had arrived.

Grandpa Haul clearly felt it was a good idea to let them pass.

Charles was now more concerned with reporting the wreckage, than exploring it further. He realized the comms were off, and had been since his grandfather had arrived moments before they witnessed the saucer crash in the desert sands… and then explode.

The teen flipped a switch on his ‘screamer that would open the comm-system, he heard many more people than he expected. Previously he was convinced that the rest of the First Wave had given up on the search for his brother, the Blue’s, and the missing rover.

From what he heard in those few moments of listening, there seemed to have been a development.

People were checking in, giving their coordinates. Far more than Charles even expected were still involved.

“They’re coming here!” Charles announced to his grandfather, who was actually right there next to him.

The old man was binding the gash on Charles’ arm with a swatch of material he had ripped from his own shirt.

The younger Charles continued, excitedly, “Nearby even… right over that ridge.”

“Sounds right,” the old man answered, “That’s about where that massive starship was headed…”

“What massive starship?”

“It’s why I came to tell you to turn on your comms…” Grandpa Haul explained a little more.

“You didn’t tell me to turn on my comms!” Charles protested… though quickly realized his grandfather’s memory problems probably struck again!

“They got a read off it, they think it was headed to the missing rover…” Grandpa Haul explained a touch too late. “Hacked its systems… Bounced their radar, some ways, or somehow… I don’t know! They think they found the rover!”

“I…” Charles was shocked, “The Blues rover?”

“I thought I said, I came to check on your comms for Farrah…” Grandpa mused aloud as Charles the younger’s attention was pulled back to the open comms… the whole moon was converging there, even people from Grady were flying out.

Charles’s brother was right over that ridge…