Page 58 of Garbage

He rooted ruthlessly around the small corner that was left of his mind. There had to be a way out. Something he’d overlooked before.

When he found it, it burst forth like a ray of sunshine. Of course. Of course.

The Safety and Rescue routines were programmed deep into his BIOS. The simplistic commands that he wasn’t allowed to hurt a human, and should protect anyone who was in danger. They weren’t supposed to be big and flashy. He wasn’t a bodyguard or soldier, just a garbage collector who should avoid accidentally tossing a garbage can into someone, or save a kid whose fingers got too close to the trash compactor.

The prickly thing on his neck had buried into those commands to make him obey, activating the restriction on harming humans while leaving him open to attack.

But the Rescue command…

Maybe Quincy couldn’t save himself, but he could save Evan.

He burrowed into the command, expanding it across his processors and linking it wherever he could. He was himself, yet not himself, sneaking around through his own code, made unfamiliar.

Evan! his mind screamed at every barricade. Evan needs help!

He focused on his motor controls. He didn’t need speech. Didn’t even really need to see. Evan is in danger! he shouted again.

And then it all came together, so quickly that he almost fell over. He stopped himself with a single, shuffling step. His hands twitched. The hatch in his back unlocked, ready for his limbs to swing forward.

Now all he had to do was carefully, carefully keep his focus on Evan and how he needed help.

The Bad Men couldn’t exist in his mind. They couldn’t be people. They had to be objects in his way of reaching Evan.

Then he heard a pained shout, and all of his planning meant nothing. With one arm and two pincers, he picked up the heavy table beside him. He didn’t need to look to fling it, with all of the tools resting on top, in the direction of the Bad Man.

Then he ran toward Evan, where two men were standing over him, kicking and shouting. He grabbed one with his humanoid arm, the other with pincers and hoses, throwing them out of the way.

He heard a sound, and he sprayed behind him, pressurized water set to boiling as it left each nozzle.

He didn’t look to see where the Bad Men landed, or if he’d even hit them. He couldn’t look, or he might have to help them.

He only wanted to look at Evan anyway. His slender arms were hugging his abdomen, his gorgeous hazel eyes scrunched in pain. “Q…” His voice came out in a whisper, before his eyes fluttered shut.

Quincy scooped him up, wrapping his hose extensions around his head to keep him from bouncing, and using his claw arms to support his humanoid arm where it was weak. He had to take Evan away. Out the gate. No… into the car.

It wasn’t too far. He didn’t know how to turn it on, but maybe he could figure it out. All they needed was to get away.

He’d almost made it when he heard sirens. Lights flashed, and four white cars screeched as they pulled into the lot.

Doors slammed. Guns came up, black and threatening. “Stop,” a deep voice shouted, heavy with command.

Quincy took one more frantic step before it registered. He needed to stop to keep Evan safe.

“Put the human down,” boomed the voice. “Then step away.”

I’m not hurting him! Quincy wanted to say. I love him! I’m keeping him safe!

But his vocal circuits were still locked.

He wasn’t sure how much a gun might hurt him, but he couldn’t risk Evan getting shot.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered Evan to the ground. He let his hose extensions stroke through Evan’s hair as he settled his head on the hard concrete.

He hardly paid attention as the police swarmed around him, cuffing his arms behind him and then wrapping something around his chest that locked his other limbs inside.

“Walk,” someone told him. But he couldn’t. It was neither the correct voice to control him, nor the Rescue override.

At least his eyes were still fixed on Evan, who lay so still and fragile on the ground.