Selected Stories of Philip K. Dick by Philip K. Dick Page A

yellowing skulls.
    The Russian was uneasy. He knew something was wrong. He started down the hill. Now he was only a few paces from the bunker. Eric was getting fidgety. He played with his pistol, glancing at Leone.
    “Don't worry,” Leone said. “He won't get here. They'll take care of him.”
    “Are you sure? He's got damn far.”
    “They hang around close to the bunker. He's getting into the bad part. Get set!”
    The Russian began to hurry, sliding down the hill, his boots sinking into the heaps of gray ash, trying to keep his gun up. He stopped for a moment, lifting his field glasses to his face.
    “He's looking right at us,” Eric said.
    The Russian came on. They could see his eyes, like two blue stones. His mouth was open a little. He needed a shave; his chin was stubbled. On one bony cheek was a square of tape, showing blue at the edge. A fungoid spot. His coat was muddy and torn. One glove was missing. As he ran, his belt counter bounced up and down against him.
    Leone touched Eric's arm. “Here one comes.”
    Across the ground something small and metallic came, flashing in the dull sunlight of midday. A metal sphere. It raced up the hill after the Russian, its treads flying. It was small, one of the baby ones. Its claws were out, two razor projections spinning in a blur of white steel. The Russian heard it. He turned instantly, firing. The sphere dissolved into particles. But already a second had emerged and was following the first. The Russian fired again.
    A third sphere leaped up the Russian's leg, clicking and whirring. It jumped to the shoulder. The spinning blades disappeared into the Russian's throat.
    Eric relaxed. “Well, that's that. God, those damn things give me the creeps. Sometimes I think we were better off before them.”
    “If we hadn't invented them, they would have.” Leone lit a cigarette shakily.“I wonder why a Russian would come all this way alone. I didn't see anyone covering him.”
    Lieutenant Scott came slipping up the tunnel, into the bunker. “What happened? Something entered the screen.”
    “An Ivan.”
    “Just one?”
    Eric brought the viewscreen around. Scott peered into it. Now there were numerous metal spheres crawling over the prostrate body, dull metal globes clicking and whirring, sawing up the Russian into small parts to be carried away.
    “What a lot of claws,” Scott murmured.
    “They came like flies. Not much game for them anymore.”
    Scott pushed the sight away, disgusted.“Like flies. I wonder why he was out there. They know we have claws all around.”
    A larger robot had joined the smaller spheres. A long blunt tube with projecting eyepieces, it was directing operations. There was not much left of the soldier. What remained was brought down the hillside by the host of claws.
    “Sir,” Leone said. “If it's all right, I'd like to go out there and take a look at him.”
    “Why?”
    “Maybe he came with something.”
    Scott considered. He shrugged. “All right. But be careful.”
    “I have my tab.” Leone patted the metal band at his wrist. “I'll be out of bounds.”
    He picked up his rifle and stepped carefully up to the mouth of the bunker, making his way between blocks of concrete and steel prongs, twisted and bent. The air was cold at the top. He crossed over the ground toward the remains of the soldier, striding across the soft ash. A wind blew around him, swirling gray particles up in his face. He squinted and pushed on.
    The claws retreated as he came close, some of them stiffening into immobility. He touched his tab. The Ivan would have given something for that! Short hard radiation emitted from the tab neutralized the claws, put them out of commission. Even the big robot with its two waving eyestalks retreated respectfully as he approached.
    He bent down over the remains of the soldier. The gloved hand was closed tightly. There was something in it. Leone pried the fingers apart. A sealed container, aluminum. Still shiny.
    He put it in