New Reality: Truth

by Michael Robertson

  Maybe that's how Tom should go? Eaten alive, his throat torn out first so he couldn't scream. Clenching her jaw, she imagined the pressure of her bite breaking his windpipe. It would be his birthday soon. That could be his gift.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A strange sense crept into Jake's dreams, a nagging feeling that he was being watched. That they were watching him. Opening his eyes, he gasped when he saw Tom staring down at him, his long face just inches away. Scrabbling backwards, the rough ground biting into his back, he breathed heavily. "What is it, Tom? What's wrong?"

  The bags beneath Tom's eyes were packed and his skin was pale. "We need to go." He looked behind. "We need to go now."

  Swallowing back the funky taste in his mouth, his sticky saliva doing nothing to dilute it, Jake sat up. Squinting against the ache in his sinuses, he rubbed below his eyes to try and ease the congestion. Despite the scarf covering his mouth, the fine grit in the air found a way up his nose and left him permanently bunged up, especially when he first awoke. The only thing he'd been able to smell in the past few months was the gamers' shit. "Right, calm down and tell me what's happened."

  Standing to his full height accentuated just how much weight Tom had lost. His clothes hung from him like old rigging clinging to a mast. Scratching his head with a shaking hand, he looked around, his eyes not settling on any one spot. "Just trust me, we need to go now."

  Grimacing as he got to his feet, his shins on fire, his hips burning, Jake found himself already staring at his friend's back. "Wait up, man. Just tell me what's going on."

  There was no response from the tall man, who continued to walk away.

  Rubbing his face to try and banish the effects of sleep, Jake looked to where Tom had sat during the night.

  Gooseflesh sprang up on his arms.

  He lost his breath.

  His legs shook.

  The line ran back to where they'd come from, a livid scar of raised rubble.

  The dust clouds hid its beginning.

  ###

  Breathing so hard he was close to vomiting, Jake finally caught up with Tom. A headache crushed his eyeballs, his head spun, stars sat in his line of sight, and his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like it would crack at any moment.

  Swallowing again did nothing to ease his parched throat, but it helped him find his words. "Stop!" After several heavy breaths, he added, "Please?"

  Stopping, Tom turned to face his friend, occasionally glancing behind as he waited for Jake to catch his breath.

  "What happened last night?"

  A frown crushed Tom's face, but he didn't reply.

  Taking another breath, Jake pointed back to where they'd come from. "I saw the line of rubble."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Come on, stop mugging me off. I looked where you were sat and saw the line of lifted rubble that led directly to it."

  Tom didn't reply.

  "When I was keeping watch the other night, something started scrabbling around beneath me."

  The frown on Tom's face was replaced by a drawn look of horror.

  "Something was toying with me, scratching the stone I was sat on."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Are you being serious? I'm not sure if you've noticed or not, but you've been super freaked out since you saw the things chasing me. If I'd told you that--"

  "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

  "All right, calm down."

  "I won't calm down, Jake. How can I trust you when you keep secrets from me?"

  "You're a fine one to fucking talk!"

  Standing to his full height, Tom looked down on his friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Secrets, Tom. Like you keeping secrets from me about what's following us."

  Folding his arms over his chest, Tom looked over at the Rixon Tower.

  "And while I'm being honest, you have to know that it wasn't Rixon who emptied the vending machine."

  "What?"

  "There was a hole in the bottom of the machine. A hole that had been punched through from the back." Looking into Tom's eyes, he could see his friend was breaking. "From something underground."

  "So you kept that from me too?"

  "Would it have helped if I'd told you?"

  "It may have prepared me better for last night. How can we survive together if we're dishonest with one another?"

  "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

  With his arms folded across his chest, Tom stared at the Rixon Tower.

  "Whatever it was had punched its way through the vending machine and climbed up. There were scratches across the red metal as if the thing had sharp claws."

  Tom's eyes lost focus.

  "There was a line of rubble leading from the machine, to me, and then back to where they'd come from. A line that was exactly the same as the one that led up to where you were sat last night. We're not being followed by Rixon, Tom. I wish we were."

  "I bloody know that now, don't I?"

  The pair stood in silence for a minute or two before Tom finally turned his back and walked away again.

  ###

  Wincing with every step, the burn in Jake's shins wasn't getting any better. The last few hours had passed in silence. The hill they were currently climbing was getting steeper, and the dark sky above was getting darker. They had to reach the summit before they stopped because there was no shelter on the steep incline.

  Having lost count of the amount of times he'd tried to get his friend to talk, Jake tried again anyway. "Come on, man. If we're going to find Rory together, we need to be able to communicate."

  Looking over at him, Tom dropped his head. "Who am I kidding? We're not going to find Rory." His features twisted like he was about to cry. "If they haven't got him by now, he's probably dead or at the bottom of one of those sinkholes."

  Walking and talking on his current oxygen intake seemed impossible for Jake. Reaching across, he grabbed Tom's forearm.

  Pulling himself away, Tom continued walking.

  "Who are they, Tom? You're getting the hump with me for not telling you what I saw, but you're doing exactly the same. I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

  Tom stopped so abruptly it caught Jake off guard. "No, you can't. Just fucking grow up and accept you don't need to know."

  Stepping closer, Jake snarled. "Don't tell me to grow up. You're the one behaving like a child. You're the one keeping secrets. I want to be prepared for what we might have to face, and you're making that much fucking harder."

  Without replying, Tom stared at Jake, his jaw locked tight.

  When Jake looked down at Tom's balled right fist, he smiled. "Go on then, do it. Hit me if it'll make you feel better."

  Clenching his hand so tightly it shook, Tom continued to stare.

  Letting the tension in his own body sag, Jake stepped back a pace. "What are we doing? All we have is each other out here. Let's not fight."

  Staring for a moment longer, Tom relaxed and unfurled his fist.

  "Just tell me what you saw."

  Tom's face buckled and his eyes watered. "It was horrible." Gulping, he continued, "It all happened so quickly. I saw long black claws, white skin, dark mouths. But the worst of it was the eyes. Hundreds of pairs of eyes." His own eyes widened. "They all looked straight at me."

  Letting the silence hang, Jake finally said, "And?"

  Staring into the distance, Tom didn't reply. Eventually, he said, "I don't think I can keep going. I don't think I can do this anymore."

  "Don't be ridiculous. You're the strongest man I know. If anyone can do it, it's you."

  "Maybe no one can do it."

  "Rubbish. Most people would have given up a long time ago, but not you. Not my friend, Tom. You're the only reason I'm alive. I wanted to top myself at several points in the first year, but you and the love you feel for your son has kept me going. Now it's my turn to repay the favor. I'm not going to let you give up."

  There was the slightest lift in Tom's pos
ture.

  "You never know what's over this next hill."

  "Rubble," Tom replied. "Rubble, and more fucking rubble."

  Laughing, Jake shook his head. "You're probably right, but what if Rory's there too?"

  Tom's eyebrows pinched in the middle. "Don't do this to me. I can't take it anymore."

  "But he could be." Moving closer to his friend, Jake put his arm around him. "Come on, let's go. We've got a lost boy to find."

  A gentle shove encouraged Tom to move as they both started walking again.

  It took about twenty minutes, but when Jake reached the brow of the hill first and looked over, he turned to his friend and jumped on the spot. "Tom! Tom, come quick!"

  ***

  The tension in her shoulders eased. This world was getting to Tom. Surely he'd give up soon. Especially when he saw what Jake was getting excited about.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Appearing over the brow of the hill, red-faced and out of breath, hope lifted Tom's features. "Rory?"

  Fuck! Wincing at his friend, Jake remained silent. What could he say to that?

  Looking at the prize in Jake's hand, Tom's eyes narrowed. Turning a deeper shade of crimson, he ground his jaw.

  Lifting the can, Jake offered a tentative smile. "Peaches! It's a can of peaches."

  Pulling his wispy hair from his eyes, Tom's long body sagged, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I thought you'd found Rory."

  "I'm so sorry. I saw the peaches and got excited. I wasn't thinking. Sorry." Getting to his feet, Jake pointed at a rock. "Sit down, Tom. Rest up while I get this open. You can have the first drink from the juice."

  Sitting down, Tom kept his head bowed.

  Watching his friend for a second or two, Jake then pointed at a sheet of red metal on the floor. "It's the remains of a car. It's not often that we see cars now. Most of them are buried a good few meters below us. This must have been a multistory car park or something." Huge lumps of cracked concrete littered the space, rebar protruding from them at all different angles.

  When Tom didn't reply, Jake scratched his head and busied himself with opening the can.

  Looking first at the ring-pull, Jake then looked at his twisted and gnarled hands. The past few years had turned them into old roots not capable of once-simple chores.

  Gritting his jaw helped him concentrate and block out the pain that nestled in his knuckles. Slipping a long fingernail beneath the ring-pull, Jake lifted it.

  "Arghhhh!" White-hot pain tore through his hand.

  Standing up, Tom frowned at his friend. "What's up? Are you okay?"

  The nail on Jake's finger had snapped far too low and blood was leaking over the top of it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he looked at Tom. "I just snapped my fucking fingernail."

  Raising an eyebrow, Tom looked Jake up and down before sitting on his rock, his long body slumping once again.

  Sucking his finger for a few seconds, a gritty mix of metallic blood and dirt filling his mouth, Jake held the scarf covering the lower half of his face away and spat on the floor.

  Trying to be more cautious this time, he used the nail on his middle finger to tease the ring-pull away from the can. Lifting it to the point where it was just about the pierce the lid, the ring-pull then snapped off. Holding it in a pinch, he looked at it for a minute before glancing over at Tom.

  With a sneer wiped across his face, Tom shook his head.

  Holding the can up, Jake glared at it. "You're not beating me. Not today!" Throwing it up and catching it again, he looked around.

  Dashing it against the concrete seemed like the best option. Raising it above his head, Jake suddenly stopped as his eyes fell on a piece of rebar that protruded from the ground like a spear. Perfect.

  Stepping closer to it, the pain in both of his legs reminding him he was a long way from being healed, Jake lifted the can again. As he brought it crashing down, he heard Tom shout, "Nooooooooooo!"

  It was too late.

  ***

  Pulling her knees to her chest, she slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle her scream.

  Chapter Nineteen

  White-hot pain exploded in Jake's palm, and he roared at the sky, "Arghhhhhhh!" Queasiness sat in his guts as he looked down at his hand impaled on the piece of rebar.

  Rushing over, Tom grabbed Jake's chin and lifted his head up. "Just look at me. Don't look down, okay?"

  Nodding, Jake bit his bottom lip, but he couldn't help glancing at his hand. The pole it was impaled on had already turned slick with his blood.

  Pulling Jake's chin up again, Tom's grey eyes widened. "I said look at me!"

  With fire stretching up his forearm like poison was getting into his veins, Jake's breathing ran away with him. "I'm scared, Tom."

  Wrapping both hands around Jake's wrist, Tom shook his head. "Don't be. It'll be fine, just keep looking at me." Without warning, Tom yanked Jake's hand free.

  The wet squelch ran directly to Jake's knees, and if it wasn't for Tom grabbing him, he'd have hit the floor. When Jake turned his hand over, it looked like stigmata.

  Instead of helping him, Tom rescued the bloody can and wrapped his lips around it as he chugged the peach juice. Pulling it away with a satisfied gasp, diluted blood dripping from his chin, Tom burped several times, his tongue pushing from his mouth as he heaved with each one. He then handed the can to Jake. "Drink it, we can't waste the juice."

  Taking it with his good hand, Jake drank what was left, his gag reflex desperately trying to reject the sweet and metallic liquid.

  It ran out too quickly, and once he'd finished, Jake looked at his hand again as it belched thick and syrupy blood in time with his pulse. With each surge of claret, his hand throbbed. It was hard to see the extent of the damage, but fortunately the pole hadn't passed all the way through.

  As blood leaked from the wound, soaking the rocks at his feet, Jake was overcome with dizziness. Looking at Tom, he opened his mouth to call for help, but before he could speak, his legs gave way beneath him and his world went black.

  ###

  Both opening his eyes and coughing at the same time, Jake saw a blur of someone leaning over him. Shouting out, he tried to sit up, but his injured hand gave way beneath him.

  Crashing back down against the rubble, Jake crossed his arms in front of his face and cowered behind them. "Please, don't kill me. Please."

  The thing grabbed him, and he tried to twist away from it. Then he heard Tom's voice.

  "Jake, it's me! It's okay. I'm here, mate, there's nothing to worry about."

  Chasing his breath, Jake let Tom help him sit upright and melted into his friend's embrace. Sweating and looking up, he waited for Tom to come into focus. Despite the peach juice, his throat was so dry his word came out as a croak. "Tom?"

  "Shhhh, Jake, I'm here, everything's fine."

  "How long have you been sitting there?"

  Pulling away, Tom rubbed his face and cleared his throat. "For as long as you've been passed out."

  Looking into his friend's bloodshot eyes, stress and exhaustion having left trails on his face, Jake gulped. "Thank you for looking after me."

  Despite the thick throb running through his hand, Jake was surprised to see it look reasonably normal. Other than being tightly bound by a dirty, and now bloody rag, it looked exactly as it had before he'd skewered it. He'd expected it to be as big as a football.

  Scanning the grey sky, Jake frowned. "How long have I been out?"

  "A few hours."

  Sitting up farther, his world rocking, Jake waited for everything to settle around him as he rode the nauseating wave surging through his guts.

  When he finally felt normal again, he picked up the punctured can, his dried blood still on it, and peered inside. Although the can was old and battered, the contents looked brand new.

  Retrieving one of the slippery peach slices, Jake lifted his scarf and slipped it into his mouth. The slimy piece of fruit, pregnant with juice, sat on his tongue. When he b
it down on it, it released a sweet shot of liquid and Jake groaned.

  Turning to Tom, who licked his lips as he watched on, dried blood still on his jowls, Jake held the can in his direction.

  Snatching it from his friend, Tom retrieved a peach slice and swallowed it whole. A slight grin lifted one side of his mouth. "Oh my god! That's amazing!"

  Taking another piece, Jake ate again and smiled at his friend. "Thanks again for looking out for me, Tom. I say it a lot, but I don't know what I'd do without you around."

  When Jake bit the next piece of fruit, an electric pain clattered through his jaw. "Ow!" He grabbed the side of his face.

  "You okay?"

  Nodding, Jake shifted the remaining piece of peach to the other side of his mouth. "Toothache." While sucking the fruit, Jake looked over to the rebar he'd speared his hand on, and his blood turned cold. "Tom."

  "Yeah?"

  "You say I was out for a few hours?"

  "Well, maybe a little bit longer than a few hours."

  Keeping his eyes on the pole, Jake scratched his face. "How much longer?"

  "About a day."

  "So you slept while you were waiting for me?"

  "Yeah. I had to. I'm as knackered as you are. I had to get some rest."

  "Did you hear anything in the night?"

  "No. Why?"

  With a shaky hand, Jake pointed at the rebar. "Have you noticed there's no blood left on the pole?"

  Realization dawned on Tom's long face as he stared at the pole and gulped. "There's no blood on the rocks around it either."

  Turning his attention to the rebar again, a glossy shine to it as if it had been licked clean, Jake then noticed the line of raised rubble leading away from it.

  Speaking in no more than a whisper, Tom said, "They're getting braver, Jake."