by Peter Liney
It was the weirdest thing: all of them, a pack of maybe fifteen to twenty, stopped dead the moment they had to cross the fallen fence. They were just standing there, motionless and silent. Had they lost power or something, maybe used up all their emergency reserve? They were facing in my direction, but I couldn’t make out if they were still functioning or not.
After a few agonizingly long seconds, as one they just turned around and clanked back in the direction of their burrows.
What the hell . . . ? What happened? And finally it hit me: they were only programmed for the complex, nothing outside, their world ended with the fence.
Over on the concourse, the Specials stopped firing. I wasn’t sure how much they’d seen, but presumably the growlers returning to their lairs had put their minds at rest—though they were bound to send someone out through the gate to check. Before they did, I had to somehow make it to the far side of the road and hide myself.
I don’t know how long it took—twenty minutes or so, maybe—but I’d just about managed to roll into the long grass and squirm my way up against a bush when a party of Specials drew up.
They didn’t stay long; just did some makeshift repairs to the fence, called maintenance and ordered them to fix it properly in the morning. No one bothered to search for me. I didn’t get it—they must’ve seen me running across the grass—but finally I came to the conclusion that it was Ray: the way his body had exploded, going all over the place like that, they must’ve assumed it was the remains of two people, not one, that the growlers had got us both. Jeez, and how was that for revenge? I wonder how that venomous old bastard would feel knowing that his last action on this Earth hadn’t been to end my life but to save it.
Quite a lot of joking went on: comments about what messy eaters growlers were. Someone got a big laugh after looking at what remained of Ray and his armored wheelchair and quipping that growlers didn’t normally like canned food.
Soon they jumped back into their vehicle and returned into the complex, leaving me all alone and utterly at a loss. What the hell was I going to do? Jimmy and the gang wouldn’t have the slightest idea where I was or what’d happened. If Infinity showed any footage of the attack—and that was a big “if,” bearing in mind they wouldn’t want to admit to their actual headquarters being attacked—they were bound to make a thing of having killed everyone, and in that case, there was every chance I’d never be found, that I was going to die out there of exposure or starvation.
That immediately sent my thoughts winging across the grass to the Infinity building. How close were we, exactly? Had she heard us? Maybe she’d asked someone what was going on and they’d told her Infinity were under attack from terrorists or something . . .
“Lena,” I groaned, “don’t you believe them . . . I came to rescue you—!”
Jesus, it was humiliating: helplessly lying in the grass with a laser wound to my ass. If I could’ve found a branch or something, maybe I might’ve been able to use it as a crutch and get moving—but I couldn’t see a thing in that smoke-curdled darkness and I certainly wasn’t up to wandering around searching.
Again my eyes went to the Infinity building. Forget the risk, I couldn’t help myself, it just came bursting out: “Lena!” I moaned, “L-e-n-a!”
I don’t know when I passed out exactly, nor for how long, but at some point the sound of hushed voices somewhere nearby woke me. Jeez, I shouldn’t have called out like that. Or maybe they’d been studying random camera footage and seen me crawl into the bushes? I heard the thud of nearby footsteps: someone misjudging the terrain in the dark and almost falling, and tried to shrink further under the bush.
There were several of them, that much I could make out, whispering to each other, searching around, getting ever closer. I thanked God they didn’t have flashlights, though I knew it could only be a matter of time.
“Definitely someone made it out,” I heard a voice say, maybe finding a few drops of my blood in the grass.
“You sure?” came a female voice.
“They’re wounded.”
There was silence for a few moments, then one of them started slowly heading my way, tracking from side to side, maybe picking up on more blood.
“Those things are so fast,” the female voice whispered.
“And he’s not,” the first voice commented.
I turned my head, trying to hear clearer. Were they talking about me?
“Not at his age,” the first voice added.
Wait a minute: I knew that voice. “Jimmy!” I whispered.
There was an immediate silence. Obviously I’d frightened the hell out of them. “Jimmy!” I called again.
Finally he got up the nerve to answer. “Big Guy?”
“Over here!” I whispered.
They started to make their way over, hesitantly, like they were a little scared of what they might find.
It was Gordie and Gigi who found me and they called to Jimmy, the little guy hastily pegging it over. “Big Guy! You okay?”
“About as okay as a man who’s been shot in the ass can be,” I grumbled. “Just get me up, will ya?”
With considerable difficulty, all four of them hauled me to my feet, having to pause once they got me there for my pain to subside. “Okay, let’s go,” I eventually said.
With Gigi and Gordie taking one arm and Jimmy and Hanna the other, we slowly skulked away from the darkened quasi-military monolith of Infinity.
“What the hell happened?” Jimmy asked when we’d eventually got into some kind of rhythm.
“Infinity did. That place is a super-fortress. You need a damn army to get in there. I’m the only one to make it out—”
“Shit!” Jimmy exclaimed.
“Did you see the growlers?” Gigi asked.
“Yeah—and what they’re capable of.”
“Grab them by the front legs and pull them apart,” Gordie advised, giving a quick demonstration.
Hanna laughed like she couldn’t believe how stupid he was and he flushed and told her to shut up.
“You shut up,” she replied.
“Okay, okay!” I said, wondering what had happened for their differences to have reached that level.
I told them the whole story, not just as a way to smooth things over and let tempers die down, but also ’cuz I thought they should know how easily Infinity had dealt with us; the way our vehicles had been blown up, what’d happened to Ray, and, of course, if it even needed saying, the fact that I hadn’t got anywhere near the hospital wing and Lena.
“She’ll know it was you,” Hanna reassured me.
I turned and tried to give her a hug but ended up squeezing Jimmy as well. “You think?”
“’course!”
Jimmy nodded his agreement. “Yeah, she’ll know.”
I almost managed a smile, only then noticing the little guy’d lost his parka and bandanna. “Where’s your disguise?” I asked.
He shrugged, looking a little reluctant to tell me, and I caught Gigi and Gordie smirking at each other.
“That Ray,” he said dismissively. “For chrissake! What’d he give you all that explosive for?”
I paused for a moment. “You used too much?”
“Just what I was given.”
By now Gigi and Gordie were openly giggling, and if it hadn’t been them she’d have had to have sided with, I reckon Hanna would’ve done the same.
“You blew your clothes off?” I asked.
“Not all of them!” he protested.
“And his eyebrows,” Gordie chipped in.
“It’s cool,” Jimmy protested, running his fingertips along his singed brows. “Matches my head.”
“Next you’re gonna tell me you did it deliberately—” I commented.
To be honest, I was more than glad of the distraction: Jimmy being Jimmy, the kids giggling and teasing, even Hanna and Gordie having their little spat, ’cuz believe me, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Big guys get shot in the arm or shoulder, occasionally eve
n the chest, not the ass. Several more times on the way back I had to get them to prop me for a few moments till the pain subsided. And the situation wasn’t helped by something of a competition developing between the two pairs: Gordie and Gigi making out I was no weight at all, while Hanna and Jimmy were so intent on proving they were well up to the task that a couple of times I had to ask them to let me down their side a little.
But of course that wasn’t the real reason I needed a distraction. It was returning from Infinity empty-handed. I’d been so hopeful, so buoyed up by the thought of having Lena back with me, but now, at least for the foreseeable future, the two of us were just going to have to get used to the idea of being apart.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I used to suffer from insomnia regularly before I met Lena. Out on the Island, not knowing who might come for you in the middle of the night, are you surprised? When I started sleeping with her, it appeared to go away, but insomnia’s all about establishing a pattern. Even then, if my sleep got disturbed a couple of times, my body-clock assumed that was when it was meant to wake up—every night. And, of course, after Lena got kidnapped, my sleeping routine was burned to hell.
One of the things about insomnia is, you might not get that many opportunities to dream, but when you do, your mind goes a little crazy trying to catch up. It’s like three speeded-up movies playing at the same time. I dreamed about Lena, of course, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. She’d had our baby, a boy, and maybe ’cuz I was concerned at how long it’d be before I saw her again, he must’ve been twelve or thirteen, but a real monster, a Wastelord in the making. He killed Hanna. The church was still intact and I walked down the steps of the crypt to find her face-down with a machete in her back, blood seeping out and filling the inscription of the gravestone she was lying on. She had her ballet gear on, tutu and shoes, as if she’d dressed for the occasion. Worse still, when I turned her over, I could see he’d slashed her right down the front and taken all her organs.
Lena wanted me to protect him, to say nothing to nobody, but I wasn’t having any of it. I got so angry with her—angrier than I ever could’ve imagined. At one point I actually accused her of having sex with someone else—I mean, no son of mine could behave like that, surely? In the end, I told her to choose between me and him, and you know, she never even hesitated. The last I saw, the two of them were disappearing into the smoke over by the gate.
I awoke with a jolt, the images dissipating like mischievous genies returning to the bottle. After everything that had happened at Infinity, I was so tired I never imagined I’d have any problems sleeping. On the other hand, bearing in mind the things I’d seen, I guess it wasn’t that much of a surprise.
I turned over, seeking a more comfortable position, but it wasn’t sleep I craved as much as oblivion. What on earth had I been thinking, trying to get into Infinity that way? All we’d done was to confirm what I’d already suspected: that that place was a fortress and there was no way in there, certainly not by force.
A little later, after managing another fitful hour or so, I awoke feeling even more negative, and sure as hell it didn’t help that I’d taken that laser-burn to the ass either. It had to be looked at, cleaned and dressed; ’course, if Lena had been there it wouldn’t have been a problem, but it was well into the afternoon before I finally gave in to everyone’s nagging and, dismissing Jimmy’s sniggering offer, asked Delilah to take a look.
Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, not according to her, anyway. Though she sure didn’t help matters by making all these comments about, “if it had been a little more central and down a touch”—as if I hadn’t been embarrassed enough already.
She reckoned it would take a while to heal, even with the organi-plasters. For sure I wouldn’t be doing a great deal of sitting in the near future, but I guess I got off quite lightly, physically, that is. Mentally and emotionally, I couldn’t have felt worse: I didn’t only get my ass lasered, I got it kicked good and proper.
Naturally, everyone came up with all sorts of alternative ways of rescuing Lena: parachuting in, checking if there were any old tunnels under the building, jamming the growlers’ frequencies. Gigi even said she’d do what she could to find out how many there were inside Infinity prepared to help.
But it was just talk, and we all knew it: a futile attempt at getting our morale back up, though actually, as the suggestions became more and more desperate, it did quite the reverse.
We didn’t watch the screen that often—Jimmy had a solar boost for the battery so it wasn’t lack of power, nor that he was constantly playing with it, trying to make it do things it wasn’t intended for. It was more that it was their world and we didn’t want any part of it. But after a couple of days of lying on my side, restless, bored and uncomfortable, I asked the little guy if I could watch it for a while.
I turned it on, glancing at the image and getting the shock of my life. With everything else that’d been going on, I hadn’t really given it a thought, but sure as hell I should’ve.
“Ah, shit!” I groaned
“What?” Jimmy asked, shuffling over to take a look. Gordie and Hanna did too, though Delilah hesitated, like she didn’t want to know, only finally joining us when she saw how pale Jimmy went, the expression on his face.
It was him again—on the screen. The big difference was that now they not only had pictures of him with his shaved head, but also his name, or at least the same misspelling of his name as on the commercial data bank: “Jimy.”
“I knew this would happen,” he moaned as they showed endless footage of him from the night of the raid and from the point that he got his disguise blown off.
“Hey, look! That’s me!” Gordie cried proudly, as an enlarged image of the four of them was shown. “And Gigi!”
Hanna pointedly raised her eyes and shook her head, as if he’d reached new depths of dorkdom.
“I just don’t understand where they got your name,” Delilah complained. “And spelled that way, too.”
“Looks like a game name,” Hanna commented.
“What do you mean?”
“When you play a computer game—most people use a nickname, or a shortened version of their own.”
“He hasn’t played a game in thirteen years,” Delilah said dismissively.
And that was it, that was when it finally hit me: Hanna had seen what I should’ve long ago.
I turned to Jimmy. He had this look on his face like he’d just stepped into something left by a very large dog.
“What’s the matter?” Delilah asked.
“Don’t tell me—” I said accusingly.
“What is it?” Delilah croaked again as I glared at the little guy, waiting for him to explain. However, he didn’t need to, ’cuz the next thing they showed was the video image from the game he’d played at the secret arcade, complete with screen information: “Highest-ever score and grand champion: Jimy.”
“You put that in?” I cried, barely believing what I was seeing.
“It was a good score,” he replied weakly.
“Jesus, Jimmy!” I groaned. “Even I wouldn’t do that! That’s how the screens started to read you.”
“You don’t say!” he commented, like I was being annoyingly obvious.
Nor was that the end of our bad news—a world from it. As always, they interviewed a spokesperson from Infinity, the journalist teasing out answers that had obviously been well-rehearsed. Normally it was this no-nonsense career cop-type, reassuring the general public that everything was under control, but this time it was someone else—someone who I immediately sensed we had to respect, maybe even be that bit afraid of, as if Infinity had finally brought out their champion, the worst they could possibly do. I wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the name Nora Jagger come up on the screen. Gigi’d mentioned her before: Head of Security at Infinity, and the way things were, maybe the most powerful person in the organization.
I gotta say, I was that bit transfixed. I never seen anyone lo
ok so damn mean, so lacking in human qualities. She had very close-cropped blond hair, blue eyes that pierced through you even outta the screen, and a face that’d bring down Rushmore.
Mind you, the personnel might’ve been different, but the message was still the same: all she could talk about was “Jimy” and how he was the biggest-ever threat to our society. She went on to announce that Infinity was both doubling the reward for his demise and removing all restrictions on firearms. Something about the determined way she said it made you think that this was her initiative, her way of settling things, and that she thought it wouldn’t take long to get results.
“Shit,” I muttered as the interview came to an end, as much concerned by the messenger as I was the news.
“Jimmy!” Delilah wailed in despair.
The thing about the little guy is, he never makes mistakes, or not as far as he’s concerned, and on the rare occasion that he does, he always manages to wriggle out of it, to put the blame on someone or something else. But this time, there was no way out.
For a few moments he just stood there like an animal waiting to be tethered to an unbearably heavy load. “Sorry, guys,” he eventually whispered, turning toward the shelter entrance. “Not cool.”
“Hey!” Delilah called after him.
“Lile,” he cried, “I screwed up!”
“Where you going?”
“I don’t know—to get some food or water. Maybe I can manage that without endangering everyone’s lives.”
“You can’t go out there,” I told him, worried he was so upset he wasn’t thinking straight. “It’s hunting season and you’re what everyone’s got tattooed on their sights.”
“Well, you can’t,” he said, reminding me of my injury.
“I’ll go,” Delilah said.
“Lile!” Jimmy protested.
“Listen, mister, you take one more step and it’ll be your last!” she warned, working herself up into one of her highly volatile states.
