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His name was Jacob. He forgot his last name; the people that knew it were dead or far away. Jacob was a good soldier, able to keep out of sight of the machines and survive. He was eight years old. He dreamed of his father sometimes, at night. He rarely dreamed of his mother. In the day, he dreamed of killing the machines.

There was once when Jacob got angry at Ravok, when Ravok abandoned him. Jacob yelled at Ravok, and told him he hated him. He knew now that he didn't hate him. All of his hate was for the machines. Adults were big, anyways, and easy to spot, so they made Jacob an easy target. Jacob knew how to keep out of sight, how to use flares and fires to mess up thermals, how to avoid mines and scout-rats, how to always keep a roof overhead so the scout-birds didn't see him.

He missed his mother. He missed his father. He just wanted to go home. But there was no home. There was only moving, avoiding being detected, carrying his weapons.

Jacob's weapons included a silenced .45 pistols, a few mini EMP grenades, and an M203 launcher without a rifle; a rifle would be too heavy and not do much good, but an armor-piercing grenade launcher was useful against the medium-sized machines. The pistol was for the scouts; if you get spotted and you're close enough, you might as well kill them so they can't scout again, and can't keep an eye on you for the mortars. All birds and rats were scouts until you prove otherwise (usually by shooting them). That's what Ravok taught him.

There weren't that many birds around anymore. Or rats.

Jacob also had a backpack full of some scavenged and home-made goodies (as Ravok would call them) and thermal camouflage clothing, including gloves and boots to also conceal his footprints and hand-prints from thermals. They weren't perfectly concealing, though, and you never risk getting in the enemy direct line of sight if you could help it.

Jacob was careful to run from building to building, always sure to keep most angles overhead blocked from view. It was tricky, but he had a lot of practice. He saw it on the street. A collapsed form; he knew what it was before he got closer. A body, of another soldier.

The body didn't have a uniform, but most soldiers didn't these days. Camouflage wasn't very useful against the machines, anyways, and that's the only reason to have one. The body did, however, have have a weapon (a submachinegun of some sort, Jacob knew), a vest full of pouches, grenades, and ammo, and a belt with larger pouches. Jacob watched the body, eyes glancing around, for far too long.

Of course there were scouts watching. He couldn't see them, but it was obvious. He was being stupid, standing here and wishing for something that wasn't so. The body was right out in the open; if it wasn't being watched, it would have been scavenged by the machines by now, to be processed in their mobile factories and used to make more machines. He had to turn around and get away from the body.

He thought he saw a candy bar in the man's belt. His stomach grumbled. There wasn't much hope of catching a rat, but maybe he'd find some canned food. The machines didn't go for food, and aluminum and tin from cans wasn't worth their scrounging. Shows how stupid they are, really; they want to kill off humans, but don't think to get rid of food supplies. Someday they might get smart and put poison in food. Ravok said that's why he would feed his dog any food first, just in case they got smart someday. At least, until Ravok didn't have a dog anymore. Jacob didn't like to think about that.

A sound made Jacob go absolutely silent, staying low by a window. He peered outside into the alleyway, and saw a skulking mortar-cat. They were big machines, on four legs, sleek and lithe like cats, and with the ability to climb up almost anything. They had a small gun near their mouth for people close up. They also had a mortar cannon in their body, and could deploy themselves at a moment's notice, getting on their haunches and digging into the ground with their haunches. A scout sees something, then the mortars all work together, target them, and fire. The machines could do it very fast, so long as they could communicate. Jammers didn't last long, but they could make a difference.

Jacob didn't have a jammer.

The first was joined by another. Then another. Three mortar-cats, all moving off into different directions. Jacob ducked down into hiding, his heart racing. He only ever once saw so many mortar-cats in a single area at once.

That was next to a mobile factory.

He knew this was a very dangerous area to be in. Machines were all over, guarding the factory and coming out of it. But mobile factories were also good targets; not as good as full machine factories, but these were still important to take out. They would slow down machine growth in an area.

Jacob looked to his M203. It could maybe do some damage to a mobile factory, but not much. He was here next to one. If there was a God (and Jacob didn't know if there was or not, but he sometimes prayed for his mother and father and Ravok and Ravok's dog, even though God let the machines come, but maybe that's just a test, some test he thought was stupid because God was smarter than he could ever be, and smart people can seem stupid to stupid people), He wouldn't have put Jacob here without wanting him to take that factory out.

He thought back to the body. The body had those big pouches. Maybe that had C4. It made sense. It was a trap, but now Jacob had a reason to trip it.

He got into place, careful to avoid any more machines. He kept as silent as a ghost; the machines couldn't hear much unless they had soundwave detectors, but when they did, any slight noise would get their attention, and they'd know exactly where it came from. Jacob finally retraced his steps, and the body hadn't been moved. He still saw no birds, but something was out there. He knew it. If he walked out to that body, he would be dead before he even knew what hit him; the machines were too quick. You had to surprise them or confuse them.

Jacob pulled off his backpack, pulling out a flares, a small jar of home-made napalm, and some firecrackers. He was careful with the stuff, spreading the napalm on the window and door frame nearby, tossed the firecrackers on top. Then he ignited the flare, tossing it toward the napalm before ducking out the building's alley and into the building right next door, and kept moving quickly, not bothering with being silent now.

The fire blazed. The firecrackers were loud, and masked Jacob's footsteps. He vaulted nimbly over the window, and out into the street. He could see out of the corner of his eye the basilisk investigating the blaze, the metallic thing also a nimble climber, and equipped with a pair of machine-guns on its shoulders.

Jacob looked down to the body, swiftly snatching the belt off the man's waist. He didn't want to risk taking any more time to get other equipment, and ran to the nearest building to duck inside. The basilisk was firing into the window, firing into its blind spot when it discovers it's blind.

The basilisk's back was to Jacob. It was vulnerable. He slid out the M203, taking aim with it. He could miss; he was a decent shot by now, but there were only so many times you could practice with a grenade launcher when ammunition was scarce, and he didn't have an HUD through some visor or a combat helmet or something, he just had the Mark I eyeball (as Ravok called it). But if something else was out there, it might be watching and sight where the grenade came from, and spot him.

He'll do it anyways. He wanted to see a machine burn. He sighted and pulled the trigger. The high-pitched sound of the propelled grenade sounded out. The basilisk's back blew out in a firey explosion, pieces of scrap falling to the ground, as the machine collapsed. Their metal shells were able to stop most bullets, but when something high explosive got through, their circuitry got cooked.

He didn't waste any time, and moved on towards the mobile factory, jumping through buildings and moving in a less efficient pattern to keep from being traced from the scene of the fire. He couldn't remember the last time he slept. The adrenaline was wearing off, and now he was feeling sleepy. But he knew if he pressed on, the adrenaline would wake him up fast, and he ran out of bunkers that he could feel safe sleeping in. Maybe after this factory went down, he could risk sleeping in the basement of some building - but he'd have to move far away, they'd be swarming the area. He got more tired thinking about it.

Maybe God didn't want him to take out the factory. Maybe God was sending some other message. Whatever it was, Jacob didn't understand it. He could understand destroying the factory, but not anything else. Running away now seemed the opposite of what should happen. Like when Ravok ran away, leaving him alone. He bit back tears. He hated the machines, and the machines had a factory nearby; he didn't know where Ravok was and couldn't waste time on him.

He dug through the pouches, now that he had time. Just like he thought, there were some C4 bricks, but fewer than he thought - more space was used for candy bars. Ravok always said not to look free food in the mouth (which was weird, because food didn't have a mouth), but he really would have preferred more explosives. There also was a remote detonator and primers. He took them.

Maybe this would do what he wanted it to. Maybe this wouldn't work out. He couldn't stop now. He didn't know if Ravok would tell him he was being dumb or he was doing the right thing. Sometimes Ravok said both were the same thing. He moved forward.

Machine whirring sounded outside. All sorts of things were out and running around, trying to spot the nearby target they knew was nearby. He knew a lot of things were out there, but not so many, and every little click and whirr sent his nerves on edge. He's never heard so many at once before; thankfully, many of them were heading in a different direction.

He kept moving. Mobile factories were big, real big, and in a city like this wouldn't be out in the open. He'd have to check warehouses, and to find it, he'd have to check to see which was surrounded by machines.

The search took longer than he expected. There were a lot more warehouses in the area he was heading. Jacob was feeling like an idiot again; of course it was in an area where there was a lot of warehouses. He held his M203 up, loaded with another armor-piercing high-explosive grenade. Finally, he figured it out.

A warehouse buzzing with machines all around, scout-birds all lining up on the rooftops, looking out at every which direction. They haven't seen him yet, and he ducked behind a corner. There was no more napalm in his backpack, and he had only a couple of flares left. He had to get into the warehouse, and he couldn't figure out how. His eyes started to well with tears. This just wasn't fair. Ravok would say "Life isn't fair," but so what? It still wasn't fair, nothing was ever fair, that didn't mean not being fair was okay, it meant... it meant that God was a big idiot that didn't know what he was doing. At that moment, he hated the machines and he hated God and he hated himself for wasting all this time.

He couldn't do it. He wish he could call in a mortar or airstrike, but the channels he knew were to people that were dead or missing, and he didn't know any new channels. You couldn't try random channels, because then the machines can pick it up and find you out. He could probably start a big fire or explosion if he really worked at it, but he would probably mess it all up, he didn't know enough about gas-lines and stuff, and those stupid scout-birds were all over. Just one had to notice him, and then it's all over. He would hurt himself, or get himself killed like that body lying out in the street, and no one was here to take care of him. Ravok said he grew up fast, but any soldier out alone is just one mistake away from total failure. He was alone, more than ever. He pulled out the one goodie left in his backpack, a simple piece of chalk, and marked a symbol on the wall. Maybe someone, someday would see this and know it meant the factory was nearby. It was all he could do.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to pet Ravok's dog. He wanted to just sit somewhere safe and eat a candy bar and sleep and maybe even read a comic book, though he stopped carrying comic books a long time ago. He wanted to forget for a while the machines were everywhere.

Dejectedly, Jacob turned and left. He knew he would remember this and see himself as a coward, but at least he would be a live coward. Kind of like Ravok, except Ravok said he put Jacob in danger, so he wasn't leaving because he was a coward but because he wanted to help Jacob, but Jacob sometimes felt he was lying about that.

Maybe he would find more people. He liked the thought of that. Even people like Ravok, especially if they have a dog.