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 creek bed, a jagged brown scar across the parched grassland. He carried no weapon and as the others closed in about him in a tightening semi-circle his eyes darted furtively in all directions. But all the faces were stamped, as from a mold, with uncompromising hostility.
Johnny licked his lips and said, "I want to bury them. Let me bury them and then I'll go. I promise."
DeReggio, the mayor, brandished his club—which was an old rifle stock with half the jagged, corroded barrel forming a handle. "Go," he said. He took a long stride toward Johnny, then changed his mind when the youth held his ground. "They cannot be buried, Johnny Hope. You know your parents must be burned as the law dictates."
Blinking sweat from his eyes, Johnny felt the sun scorching down through the glaring midsummer heat-haze. "It was the last wish of my father," he said softly, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "That I should take them forth from the village and bury them with a prayer for their Christian souls."