by Peter Liney
I chanced another quick look and spotted the top of Lena’s head as she made her way along this kinda ditch. I tell ya, I’ve never been so frightened for anyone in my life. How the hell could she do that? Where did she get the courage? She was out in the open, but for her it might as well’ve been total darkness, a vacuum, with very little to bounce sound off and no way she could make any noise herself.
I tried not to look in her direction, to keep my eyes firmly fixed on Nora Jagger, noting how she was starting to glance over at Sheila’s shelter more and more, plainly impatient to resume her torture of the mother and child. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a momentary glimpse of the pair of them and damn near cried out: Lena was entirely out in the open, still crouching low, running hard, clutching that little bundle to herself. Go, Lena! Go!
There was a murmur from one of the villagers and I realized someone else had spotted her. I knew they wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet, that it was gonna spread in a matter of moments; already a Bodyguard was looking to see what all the fuss was about. Instantly I turned and shouted at Sheila, gave her a real shove the way she had me, over her shoulder catching a glimpse of Lena approaching the tree line. If she got into the forest, she just might stand a chance.
“Oh, shit!” Lile groaned, and I turned to see the Bitch stomping over to the shelter. Sheila didn’t hesitate, she ceased our little play-acting and instead concentrated on Nora Jagger, and at last I realized the all-too-obvious truth: that Lena and her had worked this out while they’d been in the shelter together.
“You know something,” she shouted, “I’m glad you’re made of plastic and composite, ’cuz I’d hate you to be all woman.”
The Bitch stopped in her tracks, glaring at her, barely believing what had been said, but it had the desired effect. “What did you say?” she snarled, doubling back, in her fury knocking a coupla villagers to the ground.
“You gotta be really sick to do that to another woman’s baby.”
There was a sudden awed silence, everyone waiting for the reaction, but as Fate would have it, into that heavy silence fell the sound of a branch snapping over at the edge of the forest.
Everyone turned to look and immediately saw what’d happened: Lena had started to climb a steep slope, must’ve slipped, and while floundering for something to hold onto, had grabbed a branch that had broken.
Sheila didn’t hesitate; knowing the Bitch would chase after Lena and the baby, she immediately threw herself at her.
I gotta say, it was an unbelievably gutsy thing to do. Despite being considerably shorter, she gripped the top half of Nora Jagger’s body, those muscular arms of hers locked around the Bitch’s prosthetics, knowing that was probably all she had, that once that grip was broken, she was gonna be in big trouble. A desperate struggle began, Nora Jagger swaying back and forth, violently trying to shake herself free, while Sheila hung on for dear life.
The Bitch started to kick out, eventually scything Sheila down, but she didn’t break the hold and ended up going over, too. They were rolling back and forth, the Bodyguard, knowing they weren’t allowed to intervene, at least having the presence of mind to grab hold of me again. But ya know something . . . ? I could barely believe it, but looking around me, I could sense a miracle coming on.
Up to that point, not one of those excitable villagers had dared to question the might of the Bodyguard—they were simply beyond any resistance they could muster. But the sight of Sheila getting set on—the head of their village, the woman who’d taken them in, who they plainly loved and respected—the inevitability of what was about to happen to her was starting to stir them up. They looked to each other, tentatively advancing forward, as if they were just waiting for someone to make the first move.
Nora Jagger managed to twist herself around and catch a glimpse of Lena and Thomas disappearing into the darkness of the forest, her frustration so great she screamed and stretched her neck forward to sink her teeth deep into Sheila’s neck, blood immediately starting to flow.
I couldn’t take it any longer: damn those prosthetics, damn that delinquent satellite, damn the Bodyguard, too. I bucked and kicked until I managed to get a hand free and slammed it into the face of one of the guys holding me, and obviously it was what the villagers had been waiting for, ’cuz they pitched in too, no one really having a clear idea what to do, but knowing they had to do something.
The Bodyguard were outnumbered three or four to one but they still should’ve had the situation under control—but one of them panicked, pulled out his laser and shot a villager and instantly got zapped by the satellite, left burned and twisted on the ground, a bit of a fire starting amongst a pile of leaves and branches from destroyed shelters.
I tried to get through to Sheila, knowing she couldn’t last much longer, but some of the Bodyguard had retreated around the Bitch, presumably to protect her.
Hanna and Gordie obviously decided they’d seen enough, leaping at a coupla Bodyguards, swarming over them like rats. Jeez, I’d forgotten how those kids fought. It’s all about speed, making up for their lack of strength by moving so fast they’re gone before you can hit them. Though now that Gordie was starting to bulk up, you could see he was also starting to punch his weight, too. Together they were a real team: her doing her dance of destruction, pirouetting and kicking with deadly accuracy; him being more direct, dodging the swish of those all-powerful prosthetics and countering as rapidly as he could.
Nick also joined in, throwing punches as if he’d never thrown one before in his life, plainly letting out some of his demons of the last few days. But ya know, it was the villagers who really surprised me. There was barely a person amongst them who I would’ve previously thought capable of mistreating a fly: they were the marginalized, the mistreated, those with everything to fear, but they were picking up discarded branches and launching themselves at the Bodyguards, not giving a damn about the consequences.
Again the satellite zapped someone—I couldn’t see who; hopefully a Bodyguard. Things were so chaotic, I had no idea what was going on, and I was pretty sure the satellite didn’t either. Through the warring bodies I caught a glimpse of Sheila, her agonized face smeared with blood, desperately trying to hang on, but her fingers slowly being pried apart, ’til finally the Bitch broke free.
She was up in a second, kicking out when Sheila tried to grab hold of her again, I thought about to do her worst—but she had something far more important to attend to. She turned and ran after Lena and Thomas as fast as she could, those prosthetic legs of hers propelling her across the clearing at unbelievable speed.
I tried to go after her, but one of the Bodyguards grabbed me from behind, holding on with his prosthetic arm so tightly he damn near choked me. I wriggled this way and that, eventually managing to swivel around enough to ram my knee somewhere where—going on how he reacted, the Bodyguards definitely weren’t bionic. But the moment I was free, I was grabbed by another one.
I did everything I could to break that hold, again twisting and bucking, out of the corner of my eye catching a glimpse of Nora Jagger sprinting into the forest—Jesus! But in that moment I felt a real thud reverberate through me and turned to see Nick had hit the guy on the head with a rock. He crumpled to the ground, but almost immediately Nick followed after him, zapped no more than a couple of feet from me. But d’you know something? He wasn’t that hurt: that laser-beam had spluttered and died. That was it: the damn thing had lost its power.
I was finally free to run after Lena and the Bitch—but how the hell could I? The Bodyguard knew as well as I did that the satellite was finished and they could now kill whoever they liked, and even though a lot of them were down and the villagers swarming all over them, performing incredible acts of bravery, I still felt like a massacre was in the cards.
And immediately several villagers got cut down, and just as the urge to fight had rippled through them, now it was the urge to flee. They looked to one another, no one sure what to do, in that moment of indecision a
couple more getting blown to pieces. I tried to grab a Bodyguard, to get his laser, but one of the others damn near took me out. What the hell was I gonna do? I couldn’t leave everyone but I had to save Lena and Thomas!
Amongst everything else that’d been going on, I hadn’t noticed that Jimmy and Delilah had disappeared. I guess if I’d thought about it I would’ve just assumed they’d taken cover, that they were getting a little old for that sorta thing. Turned out I was wrong—very wrong—but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined they’d make the entrance they did.
They suddenly appeared outta nowhere, riding the Typhoon Tandem, Delilah at the front, gamely steering and pedaling, while Jimmy sat at the back, clutching in his arms what looked like, a bunch of lighted candles. As they got nearer, he hurled one through the air, it landed amongst a group of Bodyguards and there was an almighty explosion. I knew at once what it was: he’d used the gas Sheila had given him to make gas bombs. I mean, he might be an aging whizz-kid when it came to hi-tech, but he never minded turning his hand to the more basic stuff now and then.
He shouted something at Delilah and she altered course, heading toward another group of Bodyguards, and he tossed another gas bomb their way. I tell ya, you’ve never seen anything like it! Talk about a change of fortunes: the Bodyguards were scattering this way and that, and every one had a pack of villagers running after them, sheer weight of numbers finally beginning to tell. A coupla fires had begun to take hold, and with all the chaos, the knowledge that the Bodyguards were taking a beating, I turned and ran after Lena and the Bitch as fast as I could go.
I made it to the top of the hill, aware I was going way too fast for my old engine: puffing and panting and already feeling a little dizzy. Where the hell did they go? I stopped and listened, thought about calling out to Lena but changed my mind, then heard a branch snap underfoot some way in front of me and headed off in that direction; soon finding myself careering wildly downhill, out of control and almost toppling over.
At the bottom I stopped and listened again. There was an almost cathedral-like silence and I was starting to panic, to appreciate how little chance I had of finding either of them, when I spotted the Bitch’s unmistakable heavy footprints in some soft earth, their depth and definition a fair indication of her weight and power. The woman was a macro-monster, the product of technology ran amok. I wouldn’t stand a chance against her, not even with Lena’s help—but what choice did I have?
I followed the direction of the footprints up another slope, the sudden screech of a panicked bird right above my head, the explosion of its beating wings, almost frightening the damn life outta me.
By the time that I made it to the top, it felt like two heavy straps had been secured around my chest and now were being slowly tightened. I slumped forward, my hands resting on my knees, puffing and panting, and at that precise moment saw the Bitch.
She was about sixty yards or so away, over on the next slope, in the middle of a small clearing, standing perfectly still, I reckoned listening for Lena. I don’t know exactly what she heard but suddenly she ran on—however, even before I could start chasing after her, she was back; looking all around, trying another direction and returning yet again. Obviously she had no idea which way Lena and Thomas had gone, and I thanked God for it.
I thought about it, and decided my best option was to follow her—that way, if she did find Lena and Thomas, I’d be close at hand to help out, and if she didn’t, well, all the better. I went down and up, approaching the small clearing with real caution, not sure which way she’d gone; stopping and starting, dodging behind trees, listening so hard it almost made my ears hurt.
It happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, I didn’t even know what it was. Something came at me from outta the air, outta nothing, and hit me so hard, blood welled up in my head and drowned my brain. I blacked out, the victim of an almighty force, of a fearsome swooping falcon—stunned and helpless, unable to do anything but lie there waiting to be torn apart and eaten.
I guess she’d worked it out, and pretty smart it was, too. She knew how hard it’d be to find Lena and Thomas in that forest, but also guessed I wouldn’t be far behind, that all she had to do was wait. Or maybe she’d even spotted me chasing after her? Whatever, she’d climbed a tree at the edge of the clearing—pretty easy with those legs and arms of hers—and just waited; swinging down, smashing into me with those warrior prosthetics and knocking me senseless.
It was her shouting that brought me around; her voice calling out a familiar name: “Lena—! . . . Lena—! I’ve got Clancy! If you want to save him, bring me that baby.”
I didn’t regain total consciousness, not immediately, but I did have a kneejerk reawakening of my instincts. I tried to scramble up, to right myself before I knew what was wrong, everything slowly untangling and telling me what there was to know: that I was in a lot of pain, though I couldn’t immediately say where.
I did a quick inventory: my head was a jagged mass of smashed crimson stalactites, my nose a pump run dry—but it was only when I tried to get up that I appreciated my right leg was the epicenter of my agony, that that was where I’d sustained the most damage. I could see blood seeping through my pants and out onto the ground, and a lot of it, too.
The Bitch turned, saw I was conscious and trying to struggle up, and came over and stamped on that damaged leg as hard as she could.
J-e-s-u-s! I gave out with a real howl as the pain took me right to the edge of unconsciousness again, falling back down, even in that moment knowing what she’d done: that she’d crushed my leg with her damn prosthetic to make sure I didn’t try to escape.
“Shit!” I gasped, praying for that pain to subside even by a single degree.
“Just stay there,” she snarled. “I need you alive, but that doesn’t mean in one piece.”
Again I slumped back, not even sure I was capable of breathing, let alone going anywhere. Now I understood why she hadn’t killed me back at the Commune: she’d foreseen a situation like this and kept me alive a little longer.
She took a few paces away, to where the clearing slightly dipped from us and again called out to the surrounding forest, “Lena!” she yelled, her voice every bit as powerful as the rest of her body. “I’ve got Clancy!”
God knows where I got the energy; maybe there’s a little reserve that sleeps in us all until it’s called upon to save others, but suddenly I was also calling out, “Lena, run! Get away!”
The Bitch whirled around and with one leap stomped on my leg again, this time grinding her heel in for good measure. Jeez, I thought she’d severed it clean off.
“I’ll tell you if I want you to speak,” she told me, “but thanks for letting her know you’re really here.”
Goddammit, I was such a fool. I so desperately didn’t want Lena to give herself and Thomas up, but I’d handed Nora Jagger the one bit of leverage that might persuade her to do just that.
“Lena!” the Bitch called out again. “Give me the baby. You two can go.”
She smiled in my direction, as if she was being surprisingly generous, and I immediately knew why: she knew nothing about the Doc operating on me and was under the impression that, no matter what, there was no escape for us: that the implant would ensure I’d end up killing Lena anyway.
“You’ve got five minutes,” she shouted. “If you’re not here, I’m gonna start pulling him apart.”
“No, Lena!” I shouted, and promptly received a kick in the ribs for my trouble.
I wasn’t feeling separate pains anymore; they’d all fused into one that throbbed and pounded so hard throughout my body it was making me wanna throw up.
Several minutes ticked by, the Bitch calling them off one by one, letting Lena know what she was planning on doing to me, that she’d start by pulling my arms out of their sockets—and ya knew she wasn’t joking.
“Two minutes!” she shouted.
I really didn’t know what to expect—I guess I was hoping that Lena was so far away sh
e couldn’t even hear us—but not more thirty seconds or so later she appeared on the far side of the clearing, and if I’d imagined she wouldn’t bring Thomas with her, well, I was wrong.
“Well, well,” smirked Nora Jagger gleefully, “the little maid.”
Lena stayed where she was, thirty-odd yards away and down a slight slope, moving her head slightly from left to right as if giving herself the opportunity to map out the immediate area. “Let him go,” she said.
“I would,” the Bitch taunted, “but he’s having a bit of trouble walking.”
Lena didn’t need to see to know what that meant. “Don’t you hurt him!” she shouted.
The Bitch did this little shrug, like it was all a bit late and unnecessary. “Give me the baby—you can fix him up,” she replied.
Lena never answered, just stood there biting her bottom lip, plainly having no idea what to do, and the Bitch burst into laughter, so enjoying the expression on her face, her total vulnerability. “You can always have another baby,” she said.
Still Lena didn’t speak or move, almost as if the situation was so unbearable, she’d found a way of hiding it from herself. She hugged Thomas that bit tighter, keeping him to her as if it might attach him in some way.
“Lena, run!” I begged, but my words were futile and we all knew it: she was gonna make this decision, not me.
“Why do you want him?” she asked, looking down at Thomas all safe and secure in his blanket, having no idea what sort of threat he was under.
“To raise him as my own,” the Bitch answered, though I didn’t think she sounded that sure about it. “He’d be quite the status symbol.”
“I’d rather see him dead,” I said.
“Well . . . we’ll see how it goes,” she replied, turning and giving me an unnerving smile.
“Lena!” I called again, but she just shook her head.
“I’ve told you before, Clancy . . . I love you both more than life itself, but I’ll choose you over everything.”
