*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
I used to think exams were the worst thing in this world. But have you ever had to fight someone–or something–that wanted you to die with nothing but an extra large soda from McDonald’s? Oh, never? Well, unfortunately, I have.
The sad thing is I actually used to enjoy McDonald’s. Not for the food, obviously. Mom and I used to go there all the time. Well, until she passed away. After that, I used to drive by the golden arches and take a deep breath, inhaling gross greasy french fry stench and thinking of all the ice cream cones Mom and I indulged in over the years.
“We’ll just go through the drive thru and then we can go to yours to study,” Sandy, my best friend, explained as she turned into McDonald’s. I scrunched up my nose at the smell, but instantly craved an ice cream cone. What could it hurt? We’d spend the entire afternoon with our heads shoved into our textbooks, anyways.
“I’ll get an ice cream cone,” I told her. Sandy beamed. Then, she stopped the car after the last white Honda in the drive thru lane. There had to be at least five or six cars in line. Sandy groaned.
“Let’s just go in,” Sandy decided, turning into one of the empty parking spots. Hopefully they cleaned this one up. Otherwise the usual grease stench might be the best smelling thing in the building.
We both hopped out of the car. Sandy locked it and walked in step with me. She was far taller than me, but out of the two of us, I was most likely to get myself into a fight. And actually, I had been in one. Okay, maybe two. Just two fights in my entire life.
“I hope their ice cream machine isn’t destroyed,” I muttered, thinking of the last handful of times I tried to get a cone and hearing the same dreaded five words.
Sorry, our machine is broken.
“It’s a fifty-fifty chance,” Sandy guessed as we pushed open the double doors. The McDonald’s was eerily quiet, even for having a bustling drive thru. Not a soul was in sight other than us, and this teen girl around our age with fire engine red hair and eyes the color of the palm trees outside my house. She grinned at us like we were the first humans she’d seen all day.
“Good afternoon and welcome to McDonald’s,” the girl told us mechanically, as if she had rehearsed it a dozen times in the mirror this morning as she got ready. “Can I take your order?” She put her hand up to the register and I noticed something, A flash of something metallic under her long sleeve McDonald’s shirt. What was that?
“Yeah, I’ll take a number two and an ice cream cone,” Sandy ordered without batting an eye. She hadn’t noticed the same thing that I had. The robotic girl turned to me. Her eyes remained on me long enough for goosebumps to pop up across my skin. I shuddered. Sandy was still unfazed.
“That will be five twenty-eight, Theresa Paine,” the girl said, pausing just before my name as it came out in a voice that reminded me of Siri. I widened my eyes and took a step back from the register.
“How do you know my name?” I asked. Sandy was speechless and had finally noticed what I had. The robot girl held up her arms. She didn’t intend on answering my question. That I knew when I noticed what she was pulling out from under her sleeve. I grabbed Sandy and pulled her down and around the barricade to the indoor seating.
BANG! BANG! BANG! Gunshots fired and ricocheted off the walls and the pillars. Sandy gawked at me.
“What the hell does this girl want with you?!”
“She’s not a girl. She’s a robot. Didn’t you see the metal on her arm?” Sandy didn’t reply. There was movement behind us, like she had moved from her position behind the counter. She was coming to the indoor seating. I grabbed onto Sandy’s wrist and dragged her in the opposite direction. I heard the metal feet pound against the floor, but in the direction we had just come from.
“Theresa Paine, we aren’t leaving without you,” the robot announced. Sandy and I made it behind the counter as the robot girl patrolled the tables and chairs, tossing them up this way and that. Then her head whipped around to the kitchen, where we were. Sandy fumbled for something on the lower shelves, but came up with nothing but white paper bags and straws and utensils.
“We can’t fight a robot with straws and plastic forks!” Sandy whisper shouted, pressing her back up against the counter. Then my eyes flickered over to the soda machine just behind the counter. I smirked.
“Get a cup. I’m going to distract her,” I told Sandy, not pausing before I stood up, knowing that the robot wouldn’t kill me. Sandy did as she was told without a chance to protest or ask questions. The soda machine turned on right as I met eyes with the robot.
“What do you want with me?” I demanded, even though I knew the answer quite well. The robot, still holding up her weapon, walked over to me slowly.
“Your father has something we want. If we take you, we have something he wants, and we can make a trade,” the robot explained, just as I predicted. I grimaced. I’d demand to know what was in those files later when I see my father. If I saw him after this.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know one thing,” I said, hearing the machine go off right as I finished my sentence. Sandy was done. Our plan was about to be executed. Adrenaline surged through me as I pulled my hand behind me, grabbing one of the large cups of bubbling soda that Sandy had prepared. The robot narrowed her eyes at me. Her weapon hand faltered just the slightest.
“Machines and soda don’t mix!” Sandy jumped up, taking the cup and thrusting it and the contents at the robot before I could say anything. The robot cried out before her cries became a series of beeps and screeches. I tossed my cup at the robot, hearing the noises die down until she crumbled to the floor with one giant, unmissable thud.
Sandy and I sprinted out of the McDonald’s without food or our money. We made it to the car and she turned over the engine, backing up. As we peeled out of there, Sandy and I caught our breath, heading towards the highway, back towards my house to study.
As we came to a stoplight, Sandy turned to me, still stunned and without words to explain what she was feeling.
“Theresa, what the flipping hell was the robot talking about?” I waited for a moment, trying to find the words to explain what little bit I did know. There was still so much I hadn’t been informed of. Twisting over to Sandy, I gulped.
“It’s a long story.”
