New Reality: Truth

by Michael Robertson

  With his heart kicking and his weak legs trembling, Jake stared at the hole in the back of the machine. The metal was folded in as if a powerful punch had blown through it. With how the machine lay, that powerful punch would have had to have been from beneath it, from something underground.

  Circumnavigating the hole, Tom strode towards the tower. "Fucking Rixon. Fucking arseholes!"

  As long as he wasn't looking into the hole, Jake didn't care. Let him think Rixon did this to them. Looking down again, an icy chill running through him, Jake studied the scratch marks. They cut through the red metal to the steel beneath. It was as if clawed hands had reached up and scrabbled away as something pulled itself through. The memory of last night sent a shiver through him. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

  Having already stopped walking towards the tower, Tom jumped up and down. "You fucking fucks! Fuck!"

  It was clear to see the hole was the entrance to a tunnel. Following the imagined path of it, Jake's eyes found the raised spine of disturbed rubble a few meters away. Scratching his head, he glanced at Tom, who was still preoccupied.

  "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

  How could he tell him? The poor man would never sleep again if he knew what had happened in the night.

  When Tom returned, Jake stepped away from the hole.

  Seeing his friend's actions seconds before they happened, Jake jumped on him and pulled him back in time to watch his kick, aimed at the gamer's headset, catch nothing but air.

  Exhaustion, a diet of mostly sugar, and aching legs made the struggle hard, but he managed to restrain his friend and pull him back a few paces.

  "What are you doing, Tom? Do you want to get shot at?"

  "They're fucking arseholes! They're fucking with us, so we give up." With wide eyes, Tom looked over at the tower again. "Well, you know what? I ain't ever giving up. I'm going to find my son and then I'm coming for them."

  Ushering the tall man away, watching the ground to make sure neither of them fell, Jake managed to turn him around. "Come on, we need to get out of here. We need to find Rory."

  As they walked off, Jake glanced behind again. They were now far enough away from Tom's grave. Looking at the fat gamer, Jake's palms started sweating in a delayed reaction to what Tom had nearly done. The last thing they needed was the Bots on top of them too.

  From their current position, Jake was afforded a better perspective on the raised line of rubble. The path led from the vending machine all the way into the distance. The line returned in the direction of the sinkhole. Maybe the thing last night was just a scout. Maybe it had taken the food back to its friends and Jake happened to be in the way of the expedition. It could have simply been a coincidence. Wrong place, wrong time? Or maybe the vending machine was a bonus, and he and Tom were the true prizes. Maybe it had gone to tell its friends it had found them.

  Jake snapped out of his daydream with a jolt when Tom stopped and said, "What are you looking at?"

  "Um. Uh, nothing." He shook his head and drew a shaky breath. "Nothing."

  Staring at his friend through narrowed eyes, Tom looked behind, a frown crushing his long face.

  Imagining the things watching them, lurking beneath as they positioned themselves to strike, Jake tugged on Tom's sleeve. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

  ***

  Why didn't they just bloody give up?

  Why did she have to be the one to end it all?

  Rubbing her tired eyes as she watched them walk away, she let out a deep sigh at the inevitability of their situation. She had to be the one to take responsibility--someone had to.

  Popping the ring pull, the carbonated hiss revealing the freshness of the drink despite its dented exterior, she lifted it to her lips and tasted the sweet liquid.

  Someone had to end it all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Every step sent shooting pains up Jake's shins. When would his legs give way completely? Exhaustion had turned his jaw slack and sent his shoulders south as he plodded on.

  Swallowing hard, his dry throat itched, the stirrings of a hacking cough crawling at the back of it. Looking up at the sky, Jake saw it had turned from gunmetal grey to black. Butterflies of anxiety shimmered in his stomach. At some point, they'd have to stop and rest. At some point, the cloak of night would envelop them again.

  When he looked ahead at the haggard and wobbly Tom walking along the ridge of a deep crater, the rags he called clothes billowing out behind him, Jake could only assume he looked as bad. If anyone saw them from a distance, they'd probably believe they were seeing ghosts. Much longer of this existence, and that's exactly what they would be seeing.

  Not only was every step setting fire to his lower legs, but every step demanded Jake's attention as the ground slipped and shifted. The concentration required to stay upright made it hard to keep looking for Rory. The loud roar of the wind added to his disorientation.

  The silence between the pair had lasted for hours, so when Tom spoke, Jake latched onto it. "Why are there so many less gamers about?"

  The memory of last night flooded Jake's mind. Scratch. He shuddered and then shook his head as if to dislodge the image of claws dragging fat bodies into the rubble. "I don't know, man. Maybe the lack of exercise and fattening diet is killing them off."

  "Why now?"

  Jake shrugged. "Maybe we've past the average life expectancy for gamers."

  The crater next to them was so huge it could have concealed a shopping mall. Looking into it, Tom sighed. "Do you think Rory's gone?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  "If I think Rory's gone, then why are we looking for him? If there's a chance, we have to keep moving. He's your son, Tom. We have to keep going."

  "I will, but what's keeping you going, Jake?"

  "I've already told you."

  "Nature? Are you still trying to convince me that you're doing all of this to find a fucking tree?"

  "I've told you, Tom, I didn't travel when I had the chance before all of this. We lived on such a beautiful planet, and it's taken the destruction of it to make me realize what I was taking for granted. I want to survive long enough to see change. I want to see the start of this world returning to its former beautiful glory. Besides," Jake pointed at the floor, "this is reality."

  Scowling at the tower, Tom's sneer was visible regardless of the scarf covering half of his face. "I don't think it'll be that long before things start to change. Once all the gamers die, those arseholes will scuttle out of the towers and remake the world in their own image. It'll be paradise with so few people left, but it'll be built on the bones of humanity."

  Jake shrugged and looked at the onyx phallus on the horizon. "Maybe. Or maybe there's no one in there other than a few operators. Either way, at some point, nature will fight back. I know it." Smiling at his friend, he dipped a nod at him. "Until then, it would be an honor to see my best friend reunited with his son."

  "Best friend?"

  "Come on, Tom. We've spent so long together now." The words stuck in his throat, but it wasn't because he didn't mean them. This could be their last few days together, and Tom needed to know how he felt. "I love you like a brother. You've kept me going, man."

  "If you love me like a brother, then why don't you tell me about your past? About your family?"

  Just thinking about his family weighed Jake down. "There's nothing to say about them, Tom. I'm closer to you than I ever was to them."

  Tom looked away, his flimsy frame rocking in the wind. There was so little meat on his bones he looked like he'd snap if he fell hard enough. How close were they to his birthday? How was he going to die?

  Clearing his throat, Jake's voice cracked. "You've been a rock for me, Tom. I wouldn't have found the strength to continue over the past few years if it wasn't for you and your family. Your desire has become my desire. I want to help you find Rory and get him out of New Reality."

  Seeing his friend's eyes glaze, Jake continued, "You're a good man. You're kind, strong, compa
ssionate. You're the best friend anyone could ask for."

  After kicking a stone on the floor, Jake continued, "I know you won't talk about the things following us because of how scary they are. I get that. I know you want to protect me. I've heard you screaming at night, and I know you're trying to keep me from having the same nightmares."

  Regarding his friend with his grey eyes, Tom then glanced behind them, scanning the wasteland like he had done since their encounter with the creatures. "You're right, you don't need to know."

  "I love you, Tom."

  Tom looked away and cleared his throat. "Right, you soppy bastard, let's keep going."

  ###

  As the next few hours passed, the pair trudged on. Jake's confession of his platonic love for Tom had created an atmosphere. Although Tom was a loyal friend, and incredibly caring, discussing his emotions was a step too far for him. Walking a few paces ahead, he glanced behind frequently but avoided eye contact with Jake.

  When Jake heard shifting rubble behind him, he spun around. With his mouth turning from dry to arid, he searched the thick dust clouds, his upper body tense. It was impossible to see anything.

  Refusing to turn back again, Jake stood still and strained his ears over the howling wind.

  Nothing.

  No more shifting ground.

  No line of raised rubble.

  Any sniff of them being followed, and he was confessing everything to Tom about the night before.

  It seemed that Tom was oblivious to the sound behind, the gap between the two having increased for Jake's momentary pause. Quickening his pace, Jake caught up with his friend. Desperate to break the tension between them, he tapped Tom on the back, still unsure as to what he'd say to him.

  Tom spun around with a deep frown on his face.

  Trying to catch his breath, Jake said, "Um ... do you think Rixon control the air we breathe?"

  Just the mention of their corporate overlord was enough to wind Tom tight. "I think they control everything. I think they could turn us off like a light in an instant."

  "Then why haven't they? Surely if they control the air, all they'd need to do is shut it off, and we wouldn't be a problem to them anymore."

  The frown remained on Tom's face. "Maybe we're not a problem. Maybe we're entertainment. Besides, if they shut the air off, it would also kill the gamers."

  "And they give a fuck about them?"

  "How many times do you want to have this conversation, Jake? I don't think they want to murder them."

  Jake shook his head. "I don't think they control everything." Looking around, he opened his arms wide. "What if we just happen to be in the armpit of the world?"

  "Birmingham's always been the armpit of the world. What's your point?"

  Checking behind again, Jake said, "I bet there are trees and forests somewhere. I like to think the rainforests are still intact. The waterfalls are still falling. The glaciers still splitting and shifting."

  Tom scoffed.

  "But what if I'm right? What if they don't have a grip on everything? What if it's just Birmingham?"

  Throwing his hands up, Tom shrugged. "Well, if you are right, I hope you find them after we've found Rory."

  Jake raised his eyebrows. "Me? Don't you mean us? All of us will find them."

  "If Rory's as fucked as all of the other gamers, which I'm sure he is, then I'll need to stay with him until he's better."

  A pain tore through Jake's heart as he felt his dream slipping from his grasp. What an idiot. Of course Rory would need rehabilitation. Why didn't he think about that sooner?

  The panic passed. If the headstone was anything to go by, then Tom wasn't long for this earth, so there was no point in getting het up about a future that probably wouldn't exist. Time and dates meant very little now, but if he were to guess, Jake was pretty sure Tom's birthday wasn't far away. They'd be lucky to have found Rory by then. "You're right, Tom. It will be quite a rehabilitation." It felt like an empty promise, but he made it anyway. "I'll stay with you guys and do everything I can to help."

  A watery glaze covered Tom's eyes as he searched Jake's face. "Are you sure?"

  The image of the headstone filled Jake's mind's eye again. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he nodded.

  Reaching out, Tom rested his hand on Jake's shoulder. After glancing behind, he looked into Jake's eyes again, a hint of the brilliant blue of his irises returning. "Thank you."

  ***

  It would be appropriate to feel sorry for Tom, but she didn't. As she watched him, she suddenly became aware of her twisting face. The sight in front of her left a bad taste in her mouth. Clinging onto Jake, Tom clearly hoped he'd stay with him on his pointless mission.

  Whether Tom found his son or not was not her concern. It was Jake that mattered. Regardless of how much Tom distracted Jake, she wasn't going to fall into that same trap. To see Tom as anything other than an obstruction was foolish. After all, if she had to end Jake's life, it would be because of Tom holding him back. Compassion wasn't an emotion she could afford to give to the tall man. It wasn't one that Jake could afford to give either.

  Chapter Sixteen

  With his head spinning and stars swimming before his eyes, Jake looked up to where they were heading. "Not far to go, Tom. I can actually see the top of this bloody hill at last."

  Looking behind, he saw he had his friend's attention, but the red-faced man didn't look like he had a reply in him.

  The floor was littered with bones. It wasn't the first time they'd come to areas like this. "More bones, Tom." Laughing, and then fighting to catch his breath, Jake said, "I didn't realize climbing this hill was so hard."

  Tom didn't reply.

  Pushing on, dabbing his forehead, his eyes already stinging from the sweat and grit that had run into them, Jake stumbled on a raised lump of rubble. Sharp pains ran up his legs as he fought for balance. "Walking over this shit is doing my bloody head in." Turning around again, he saw Tom had stopped. It was the perfect excuse to do the same. Resting his hands on his knees, he hunched over and drew air into his lungs.

  When Jake looked up, he saw Tom glance down the hill and then back to the patch of bones on the floor by his feet. With wide eyes, he repeated the action, lingering slightly longer on bones.

  "What have you seen, Tom?"

  Without replying, Tom walked up the hill towards him.

  "Tom? What's going on, man? What have you seen?"

  Still no reply.

  When Tom was next to him, Jake grabbed his skinny arm. Pulling his friend towards him, he said, "Tell me what's going on in your head."

  There was a shake running through Tom as he looked down the hill again. "I hadn't thought about it until now."

  "Thought about what? What are you talking about?"

  With his face as white as the bleached calcium surrounding them, Tom shivered. "The patches of bones. Why we keep coming across areas littered with them. I'd used it as a chance to educate you on which bone was which, but I didn't see the obvious." Losing focus, he rubbed his chin. "I didn't see the bigger picture."

  The ground shifted beneath Jake again, and he had to throw his arms out to maintain his balance. "Come on, man, spit it out before I fall back down this bloody hill."

  Smacking his own head with the heel of his palm, Tom seemed lost in his thoughts. "Why didn't I see it? I'm such an idiot."

  Before he could restrain himself, Jake shook him. "What's going on?"

  "The patches of bones, Jake."

  "You've already said that."

  "So many bones in one place, then none for miles, then another patch."

  "And?"

  "Jesus, Jake, isn't it obvious? We're stood in the aftermath of a feeding frenzy."

  Jake's blood turned cold. If he were honest with himself, he'd been ignoring that same nagging thought. But with Tom saying it so directly, it was unavoidable. From his elevated vantage point, the path they'd taken up the hill looked very different. Each pile of bones had ridges leadin
g away from them like the spokes of a wheel. Ridges made by burrowing creatures. Ridges like the one he was currently stood on.

  Jumping away from it, Jake continued looking down the hill. On closer inspection, he saw scratches on some of the lumps of concrete closest to the bones. Scratches much like the ones he saw on the vending machine.

  Images flicked through his mind. Flesh being torn free. Gnashing jaws. Dripping blood. "Tell me what you saw chasing me, Tom. Tell me what we're up against." Tell me what kept me awake last night.

  Tom shook his head. "We need to keep moving."

  Looking down the hill again, his view still no better than about fifty meters, Jake felt the strength drain from his legs. Could he keep going? "Do you think they're following us?"

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Tom grimaced as if waiting around was causing him physical pain. "Come on, Jake. We need to go."

  Flicking his head up, Jake held his breath for a second. "Did you just hear that? It sounded like shifting rubble."

  What little color Tom had in his skin vanished. Shaking his head, he set off up the hill again.

  "Are they following us, Tom? They could have been on our heels for days and we wouldn't see them through this bloody storm."

  "Why do you think I want to keep moving?" Tom called over his shoulder.

  Looking at the bones again, Jake's sinuses were suddenly alive with the metallic tang of blood. He could almost taste it himself as if he were part of their ritual. It was like the essence of the feast hung in the air.

  Covering his mouth and nose, Jake looked down the hill one last time. He then bent over to pick up a steel pole. Looking at the jagged end from where it had broken free, he tossed it on the floor, the loud clang making Tom spin around. If they wanted to attack them, they would. Carrying a stupid pole would just slow him down.

  Spinning around, Jake followed his friend.

  ***

  Frowning, she watched on. It had taken Jake a long time to recognize the piles for what they were. Did he even see the scratch marks on the bones? They'd been damaged by sharp nails resting on them as they were picked clean of every inch of flesh.