Flash Fiction

From his high vantage point Silas Barnsfather could clearly see the glistening points where the smaller of the planet’s two sun’s reflected on... what? He didn't know. He reached into his bag and pulled out his scope. He set it to what he estimated was the correct distance. Two bronze covered, warlike, figures resolved themselves in the viewer. As he tweaked the viewer settings it became clear that there were in fact six warriors, three groups of two abreast. As they marched, they cleared all in their path. Little vents of steam just below the armoured knees wilted any vegetation and their obvious weight flattened anything else. 

The bronzed warriors, hundreds of them, had appeared a few days earlier. No one knew where from or why, other than they were rounding up everybody. Silas was not going to be rounded up. He had gathered the few things he thought essential into a bag and headed out. Unfortunately, as he reached the town perimeter, he was spotted. He was lucky though, he had enough of a head start to reach the high ground and to create a few diversions on the way. 

Through the viewer he saw the warriors reach the tree he had used as a marker. He reached into his bag again and pulled out a small button detonator. Watching carefully through the viewer he pressed the button. There was a distinct shimmer in the air, and the warriors disappeared into a debris cloud. After two or so minutes the cloud created by the sonic detonation started to clear and through his viewer Silas could see the warriors reassembling themselves, helping each other reattach limbs. Clearly, they weren't an organic enemy. Silas shoved his viewer and his detonator back into his sack and headed higher into the hills. 

Escape would be a slow battle.