In Constant Fear

by Peter Liney

  I almost laughed. I’d been waiting to see how he’d react, if there was any chance at all of him manning up, and there was my answer. Mind you, it wasn’t him at his smoothest, and plainly Nora Jagger didn’t believe a word. I wouldn’t have chosen the method—not for one moment—but I realized that finally the Bitch was gonna do something that would trigger the satellite. But you know what? Just like with me, she must’ve had some further use for him ’cuz she ignored him and his pathetic excuses and again I was left wondering how I was gonna uncork all that seething violence. As it turned out, I didn’t have to.

  It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen anyone do—mainly ’cuz of who did it. Isobel obviously felt so bad about what she’d said earlier, she’d decided to try to make amends. I hadn’t noticed her inching her way toward one of the Bodyguards; the first I knew was when she suddenly leapt forward and wrenched his laser from its holster. He whirled around, went to swing at her with his prosthetic arm, but before he could, she got a shot away.

  There was this sudden almighty explosion—a detonation of fiery and general chaos—and many of the villagers started howling with fear. At first I didn’t get what’d happened—the grass was scorched, a coupla small fires were burning—then I realized. Punishment satellites were supposed to be so fast they could recognize and define the crime in the split-second before it was committed, leaving the intended victim untouched—but not this one. Both the Bodyguard and Isobel had been fried to a crisp and were lying there on the ground like two hunks of burned bacon and a spool of blackened wire. But it wasn’t just them: two other Bodyguards must’ve drawn their lasers too, ’cuz the satellite had zapped them as well.

  “What the fuck?” screamed Nora Jagger, looking at the smoldering chaos around her. “What happened?”

  I didn’t say anything—I didn’t need to. I was distraught about Isobel, that she should’ve sacrificed herself like that; getting swept away on those emotions that she’d found so hard to control but were always so well-intentioned.

  “There’s a satellite?” the Bitch yelled.

  In that moment it obviously occurred to her what I’d been up to: keeping quiet about it, trying to provoke her to violence so it would take her out.

  “You . . .” she snarled, her eyes narrowing.

  I reckon that was about as close as I’ve ever been to seeing a human being have a total meltdown. I thought she was gonna spontaneously combust, like some of her implant guinea pigs, but now that she was aware of the situation, she managed to somehow stop and shut everything down.

  “I’m gonna hurt you so bad,” she hissed, “believe me . . . if I were you, I’d start screaming now.”

  “Not with a satellite watching over us,” I told her.

  She paused for a moment, obviously thinking it through. “You gonna stay here forever?” she asked. “How big an area does it cover? What about food? Water?”

  The villagers started muttering amongst themselves, those kinda concerns not having occurred to them, and Sheila did her best to calm them down.

  “You wanna take a gamble on how big an area it covers?” I asked Nora Jagger. “How many more of these freaks of yours are you prepared to lose?”

  She marched right up to me, glaring into my face, our noses almost touching, and I realized she’d had those prosthetic legs made longer so she could be that much taller. “You couldn’t run forever, and you can’t stay here forever either,” she told me.

  I met her glare for glare, feeling the pull of those icy blue pools, those blood-stained Arctic wastes, retaliating with the Look but deep down knowing she was right. We were only forestalling the inevitable; like it or not, we had to have this out, and in some ways it was as much of a frustration to me as it was to her.

  Without another word she spun around and walked away, presumably to join the search for Lena and Thomas, and one by one the gang edged across to me.

  “Where are they?” Sheila whispered.

  “I dunno. I left her down by the woodpile,” I told her.

  “Shit,” Jimmy muttered, knowing they were bound to begin a more general search once they’d been through all the shelters.

  “They can’t hurt them any more than they can anyone else,” Hanna reasoned.

  I knew she was trying to comfort me, to put a brave face on things, but as the day wore on and the search was widened, comfort was simply beyond me. They combed the whole clearing and then headed off into the forest, but still there was nothing. I didn’t get it. They couldn’t have missed them, not if they were just hiding behind a tree. The only conclusion I could come to was that Lena’d made a bolt for it while everyone was distracted, that by now she really was miles away.

  The Bodyguard went around the Commune, helping themselves to everyone’s food and drink, scoffing what they could and taking or spoiling the rest, relishing every second of fear they were creating, the way villagers cowered and shook before them, yet always making sure they never did anything to rouse the satellite. They also started playing these mind-games, taunting us, telling us what they’d do when their chance came, which, as they kept reminding us, it inevitably would. A coupla guys in particular wouldn’t leave Hanna alone. Jimmy and Delilah, Nick and me, we were just gonna be mashed up and stamped on ’til there was nothing left but pulp, but she was gonna be abused in every way they could think of, ’til her young body was ripped to pieces and they couldn’t do it anymore. Hanna retaliated with a lotta stuff I never would’ve expected to hear from her, and Gordie was ready to take them all on, satellite or no satellite, but you could see they were both frightened. At their age, and despite everything they’d been through, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

  A coupla times I tried to slip over to where I’d last seen Lena and Thomas, to check if they’d really gone, but the Bodyguards wouldn’t leave me alone for an instant—even if I went for a leak someone came along. As ever, not knowing was happening was driving me crazy. On the other hand, I thanked God and the heavens that they were still free.

  With the sun now beginning its long, slow fall, I heard hammering over at the forest edge: they were driving in those aerial-like poles I’d seen when they were camped out on the mountain, presumably setting up a pressure-field. As soon as the light started to fade, they turned it on. I tell ya, it was really something, and of course, Jimmy was fascinated. The ground glowed like molten lava, only bright white, with beams of light filtering out of all the cracks and holes. They set it out over the entire clearing, leaving just a circle in the middle for everyone. Those whose shelters were still intact and inside the safety zone returned to them; the rest of us, the overwhelming majority, had to sleep out in the open. The gang retrieved what we could of our destroyed shelter, rebuilt it, then filed inside. Nora Jagger of all people had commandeered Sheila’s place, so she had to squeeze in with us too.

  There was never the slightest chance of me sleeping, not with Lena and Thomas out there somewhere. Was it really possible they were miles away, Lena blindly carrying the little guy through the forest, going further into the Interior, inevitably ending up getting lost. She always took extra stuff for the baby, no matter where she went, but it wouldn’t last for long.

  The moon rose over the hills, shining even more light through the sparse branches of our shelter, projecting dark shadowy lines like ethnic tattoos across everyone’s faces.

  “This is crazy,” Sheila suddenly groaned.

  No one had spoken for so long I’d had no idea who was awake and who wasn’t, but as soon as she said something, everyone stirred and sat up.

  “I don’t know who’s jailer or prisoner,” she added.

  “The Bitch is the jailer,” Gordie chipped in.

  “I just hope that baby’s okay,” Delilah croaked.

  “Thanks, Lile,” I told her. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

  “One blind and the other still in arms,” Lile muttered, making it plain she didn’t share my confidence.

  Again there was silence, outta respe
ct for my loss, I guessed, but you knew it wasn’t gonna last for long, that people needed to talk.

  “You actually fought her?” Sheila asked, picking up on something I’d said earlier.

  “Wasn’t much of a fight,” I admitted.

  “That strong, huh?”

  “Like a man-made force of nature,” I told her. “I don’t know about the Bodyguards; in theory, they’re only fifty percent of what she is.”

  “Maybe we’ll find out,” Sheila said, actually sounding like she was relishing the prospect.

  “Jimmy, could you switch that thing off?” I asked.

  “What?” he asked, having no idea what I was talking about.

  “The satellite.”

  “Clancy—!” Delilah protested.

  “Yeah, just a small point, Big Guy,” Jimmy said, “but that’s all that’s standing between us and being massacred.”

  “Just thinking.”

  “Yeah, well—not cool. If that’s the best you can come up with, maybe you should leave it alone.”

  “I don’t see you coming up with much,” I snapped.

  At that point, with emotions getting a little agitated, and as weird as it might sound, Lile burst into song; all bruised and bluesy, and everyone gladly shut up to listen.

  Through the branches I could see the Doc lying where he’d exiled himself, outside in the long grass, about as far away from us as he could get, almost on the edge of where the ground was glowing, as if he was lying beside a luminous lake. He was a broken man, dirty and disheveled, aware he had a death sentence hanging over his head, that the moment she had no more use for him, the Bitch was gonna take full revenge.

  He was still using his precious case as a pillow, as if, no matter what, that was the one valuable he was determined to hang onto. Somewhere in there was a program that, as far as I was concerned, was utterly priceless, but ya know something, in that moment, I didn’t care. All I wanted was to know that Lena and Thomas were safe; whether she could see or not was irrelevant—and maybe that was the point she’d been trying to make all that time. Maybe I finally understood?

  Several times in the night the pressure-field was triggered, the siren went off and the Bodyguard started running around getting all excited. The first couple of occasions I was terrified it might be Lena and Thomas; my old heart started racing as fast as it could go, but in the end we realized it was only animals wandering into the clearing.

  Jimmy kept shifting position, plainly no more able to sleep than I was, eventually moving that bit closer to me so no one else could hear him. “Why d’ya want the satellite turned off?” he muttered.

  “I dunno. Just struck me we might need it at some point.”

  “Easy enough,” he said.

  “What about your tools?” I asked, presuming he’d lost them when the Bodyguard destroyed the shelter.

  Jimmy gave that smile I’d become so familiar with—the old magician still capable of the odd new trick—and proceeded to lift the blanket he was lying on, to scratch and scrape at the mossy grass and reveal a square of turf that he rolled back like a kinda trapdoor. Underneath there was all kindsa stuff: tools, various pieces of techno, the small generator and gas Sheila had given him. “Cool, huh?”

  “When did you do that?”

  “Last night, after you left.”

  “I’m glad you’re on my side,” I told him, feeling the little guy deserved a compliment.

  We fell to silence for a while, gazing out at that silver patch of ground as if both of us were adrift on our respective seas of concern.

  “You know something, Big Guy?” he eventually whispered. “We’ve got ourselves in another damn prison.”

  “Yeah, well . . . let’s just hope this isn’t the condemned cell,” I replied.

  I must’ve finally dozed off, ’cuz the sound of the pressure-field powering down woke me at first light. I took a long look outside, particularly along the forest edge, I guess hoping to see Lena and Thomas, some sign that they were okay, but there was nothing. I just didn’t get it. ’Course I was glad they hadn’t been captured, but where the hell were they?

  I struggled up, feeling so stiff I tripped over just about everyone on my way out. I was hoping that, at that hour of the day, I could take a leak and maybe sneak over to the log before anyone saw me, but as soon as I emerged, one of the Bodyguard, a woman this time, followed me.

  “D’you mind?” I said, how close she was wondering if I’d just discovered a long-lost Siamese twin.

  “No,” she replied, and damned if she wouldn’t even turn her back when I was doing my business, just stood there watching, determined not to allow me even a second outta her sight.

  On my way back to the shelter I managed to deviate just enough from my route to be able to see the woodpile in the distance—Jesus, there were a coupla Bodyguards sitting on the actual log! She couldn’t still be there—not unless she’d tunneled underneath. And how the hell would she keep Thomas quiet? Dammit, Lena, where are you?

  When I got back to the shelters the villagers were being rounded up again, penned in by the Bodyguard, their fear of their captors more than enough to make them do as they were told. I thought something was about to happen, that after a night’s sleep Nora Jagger’d come up with a plan, but all they did was make us stand there for hour after hour with no food or water.

  It was midday before she finally appeared, more than enough time for me to work out that’d been part of a plan.

  Don’t ask me why but she’d slicked her hair back so it was all flat and shiny, which only went to accentuate the killing field that was her face. The first thing she did was to take one look at our partly rebuilt shelter and kick it over again. I glanced at Jimmy; the little guy was looking more than a little nervous that she might plant her foot down in his hideaway and he’d lose all his stuff, but she turned to address a couple of Bodyguards, ensuring that none of the villagers had been allowed food or drink.

  At the sound of her voice only feet away, the Doc, who hadn’t moved from where he’d been all night, instantly tried to slide away on his back like some disorientated snake—but it was no use.

  She glared at him, utterly contemptuous of what he’d become, opening her mouth to say something—but then stopped when she saw his case.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  He hesitated for a moment, looking a little like a guilty schoolboy. “Yes.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes.”

  Instantly a twisted smile slithered out of its hole and wrapped itself around her face, as if all her frustration had suddenly been lifted. “Well, well,” she said, turning to me.

  I stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to say more, wondering why she suddenly looked so happy. “What?” I asked.

  “Punishment satellites,” she announced, as if she was starting a speech or reminiscing about the past, and all the Bodyguards and villagers turned to listen. “Brilliant invention . . . Amazing. Just about wiped out crime at a stroke. A bit crude, but—”

  “Got that right,” Jimmy agreed.

  She scowled at the little guy, furious he should dare interrupt her. “But . . . there were rumors; some people reckoned there were errors in the postural programming, that if you went about it right, there was still a way of getting away with murder . . . literally.” She paused, looking around in such a manner some of the villagers started shuffling backward, and I could sense the balance in this situation violently shifting; that this stalemate was about to be terminated. “D’you know how?”

  Again she addressed the question to me, but I didn’t answer, and nor anyone else.

  “Just the one way as far as I know,” she added.

  “Is that a fact?” I said, trying to sound as if I couldn’t be less interested.

  “Injection,” she told me, after a slight pause. “The satellite couldn’t differentiate between what was being given to cure and what was being given to kill. Internal cameras, yeah, of course, but
from up there . . .”

  She glared at the Doc, then at his case, waiting for him to speak.

  “I . . . I don’t have anything,” he told her.

  “You did,” she reminded him, and the Doc plainly wished she hadn’t.

  “It’s gone.”

  She reached forward and wrenched the case out of his hand.

  “No!” he cried.

  “You sure you don’t have anything?” she asked, raising it over her head, about to smash it down on the ground.

  “No, no—wait—! Wait! Maybe I have,” he told her.

  She obviously knew what she was after, ’cuz the moment he opened his case she went straight for this one container and handed it to the Doc, ordering him to arm his syringe. It was quite a shock to realize he’d done something like that before, that he wasn’t the good guy at heart I’d always wanted him to be.

  The Bitch ordered everyone to line up in rows, obviously beginning to enjoy herself as she marched up and down, the steady slurp-slurp of those legs frightening the hell outta all of us.

  “Where are Lena and the baby?” she casually asked, like she was inquiring about the way to the nearest bank or something. She paused for a moment, looking from left to right, but no one answered, nor even met her gaze, though an older woman a coupla rows back did start whining like a frightened dog.

  “Where are Lena and the baby?” the Bitch repeated slowly, but still no one replied.

  She knew she couldn’t make a sudden movement, that she couldn’t appear to do anything that might look like an act of violence, so just slid her arm around the nearest person—a short, wiry man, maybe in his fifties, apparently too frightened to do anything but just go rigid with fear—pulling him outta the line, hugging him around the shoulders as if they were friends, but plainly using that incredible grip of hers.

  “Where are Lena and the baby?” she repeated as if she was losing patience, that this would be the last time.

  There was a pause and people started to look from one to another. “We don’t know,” Sheila said.