Hunter and Prey

A story of Josh & Argos

The other Josh & Argos stories

In Pennsylvania in the no longer united states, early September 2034

Josh took a slow, deep breath of the chill dawn air, then took another step forward, scanning the forest ahead of him, his uncle’s Mossberg 500 shotgun held at low ready. Then he paused and waited a few seconds before taking the next step. Josh was a skinny fourteen year old boy with blond hair that, though clean, was now about down to his chin. A few feet behind him, Argos kept pace, moving silently despite being about 120 pounds of steel and silicon. Argos was a grey-green four-legged robot, about three feet tall and a foot wide with a gripping arm on top.

Josh had been deer hunting a few times before with his dad and Uncle Brian, but this was the first time the fourteen year old was out on his own. This was no longer about fun and male bonding, though. This was about eating.

Josh had traveled halfway across the state to his uncle’s cabin about three months ago after both of his parents died. He found it safe, clean, and thoroughly provisioned, but no Uncle Brian.

He’d spent his time since then reading from his uncle’s well-stocked library, taking walks in the woods, doing coding exercises, and learning about the capabilities of his new friend Argos, whom he’d found on his journey to the cabin.

There was still a good amount of both dry and frozen food in his uncle’s stores, but Josh realized if he was going to stay here long term, he’d need to feed himself eventually. Among his uncle’s books was a survival manual walking step by step through how to hunt deer. Josh read over it several times, recalled his trips with his dad and uncle, and planned his first solo trip.

One point in his favor: Most hunters don’t have a scout anywhere near as good as his. Over the previous week, Argos had roamed the area, mapping out sleeping and feeding spots. Using this, Josh had planned their first hunt, and today, here they were.

Another deep breath, another scan, another slow, quiet step forward. The woods around him were a mix of sturdy oaks, slimmer maples and scraggly-barked hickories. In just a few more weeks, they’d start changing to yellow, red, and orange, but that hadn’t arrived quite yet. About six feet off to his left was a drop off, the forest floor seven or eight feet down over there. The bright early morning sun cast stark shadows.

Without warning, Argos leaped at Josh, knocking him down, and standing crouched over him.

“Argos, what are—”

He heard something whoosh overhead, looked forward and saw something large and yellow-tan landing a dozen feet ahead of him. It spun around and he saw golden eyes, a hundred pounds of muscle, lethal claws, and teeth ready to shred his flesh, all wrapped in sleek yellow-tan package. It was a mountain lion.

“Oh.”

Argos advanced between Josh and the big cat. Josh was still getting his breath back from being knocked down, but he scrambled to his feet and looked around for the shotgun. He knew he had dropped it when Argos knocked him down, but he didn’t see it anywhere.

He looked up to see the mountain lion pacing and staring at Argos, unsure of what to make of him. It was growling low.

Josh just stood there, shaking and paralyzed for several seconds. Then, some survival instinct drove him into motion. He had to do something or he was going to be torn apart. Where was the gun?!? He turned and saw the drop off to his left. Oh no. It must have gone over there.

He turned back. The mountain lion had evidently decided Argos, as inedible, was irrelevant. It crouched a moment, then pounced again towards Josh, paws spread to grab him. Argos leapt just an instant later, knocking the cat off course. It let out a buzzsaw yowl. The two landed with a thud almost back where the cat had jumped from.

Josh ran to the drop-off and looked over. There was the shotgun, halfway into a mountain laurel bush. Just a few feet away, but getting it and getting back would take…how long? Behind him, Josh heard the lion screaming again in anger and the dry scrape of claws raking across metal.

Josh looked around. The combatants stepped back from each other again. They were about fifteen yards away from him. The cat paced again and stared at the robot. He made a couple small jumps toward Argos, paws extended, but Argos just calmly stepped back each time.

Was that a streak of blood on the lion’s right side?

Finally, the cat tried circling around this strange opponent to get at his prey. Argos sidestepped to stay in his way.

Josh looked back over the edge. “Argos, keep him busy. I’m going for the gun.”

Argos turned his gripping arm back towards Josh and “nodded” with it, a gesture Josh had taught him.

Josh found a tree root near the edge, lay down on his belly and started backing himself over, holding on to the root. Just before he was ready to drop himself, the cat managed to bypass Argos somehow and landed just three feet from Josh’s head. Josh yelped and let go. Falling the remaining five feet, he landed on his back in a mountain laurel bush. He had the wind knocked out of him, but he was okay. He stood and brushed himself off then looked up. For a moment, the lion peered over the edge, then disappeared. Josh heard another growl. Argos must be at him again.

Still breathing hard, Josh turned around until he saw the shotgun. Grabbing it, he looked for the quickest way back up to Argos. It looked like the way they’d been heading the lower ground rose to rejoin the higher about thirty yards on. Josh started running that way. When he got to where the ledge was only three feet up, he threw the shotgun over, then scrambled up himself.

After crouching a moment to catch his breath, he picked up the gun again and ran back towards where he’d left Argos. He knew Argos was tough, but this wasn’t really the kind of enemy he’d been built to fight. And where had that blood on the lion come from?

The path alongside the bluff had been mostly clear. On the way back though, Josh was headed a little upslope on uneven ground. He dodged around trees and brush, occasionally getting slapped by saplings and low branches.

Finally, he heard growling up ahead. He slowed down and walked carefully, deliberately slowing his breathing, trying to get in range before the cat noticed him. A minute later, he saw them. The lion was between him and Argos, about forty yards away. They were facing each other about twenty yards apart, pacing back and forth. The lion’s tail lashed the chilly morning air.

Josh saw another slash on the lion’s left side. Where were those coming from?

Whatever, the lion was still focused on the robot. That was what mattered now.

Josh stilled himself, put the shotgun stock to his shoulder and sighted on the pacing cat. As it turned and started pacing the other direction, Josh shifted his footing and heard a crackling sound beneath his boot.

The lion turned its head and, seeing its prey returned, spun round. Josh panicked and fired. The gun roared in his ears. The shot went wide and Josh had to fight the impulse to turn and run.

The lion sprinted towards him. Josh pumped the shotgun and raised it again. Just as the lion crouched to pounce, Argos leapt on its back end and struck it with his gripping claw. Blood sprayed from the lion’s back.

The lion twisted to strike at this metal monster on its back. Josh steadied himself, sighted the shotgun and fired again. The buckshot took the lion in the back of the head from thirty feet away. It twitched and then went limp.

“Argos, did I hit you? Are you okay?”

Argos, who was walking over to Josh, nodded his gripping claw twice. Apparently, buckshot at that range was not a serious threat to the robot.

Josh almost collapsed from the sudden release of fear. Setting the shotgun beside him with hands shaking from adrenaline, he sat down and leaned his back against an old, wide oak tree.

As Argos approached, Josh noticed his gripping claw was spattered with red, and…were those blades? Argos had retractable claws. Josh had had no idea.

After playing out the implications of this in his head, Josh said, “Argos, never use those on a person unless I specifically tell you to.”

Argos nodded again, and the blades disappeared inside the prongs of his claw.

Josh just sat there panting and turning his head from side to side a moment. An idea occurred to him. “Argos, could you have beaten it yourself?”

A small panel on Argos’s right side popped open. Josh leaned over to look at the display inside: “Probability of success > 90%.”

“Oh. Now I feel kind of silly. I guess I didn’t need to run to get that gun.”

Josh looked over at the bloody wreck that had almost eaten him. After a moment, another thought occurred to him. “Could it have hurt you even though you won?”

He looked at the screen again. “Probability of success without damage ≈ 65%.”

“Oh, well…maybe it wasn’t so silly of me after all.”

Josh stood up, using the shotgun as a prop. Looking back at the beast he’d slain, he tilted his head.

“Say, I killed it. Do you think I could eat it?”

Argos turned his claw, with its secondary camera, back towards the dead mountain lion. Then he pointed it up and opened and closed it, his equivalent of a shrug.

Josh pulled out a knife and a pair of rubber gloves from his jacket pockets.

“Argos, I’m going to gut it, and you’re going to help me get it home.”

Argos nodded, and Josh knelt beside his kill and set about his messy task.

The other Josh & Argos stories