Long Division (24 page)

‘Are you all right?’ I managed to pant. ‘With this?’

James threw his head back as I gave another inquisitive tug. He gasped heavily. His expression was hesitant, unsure.

In retrospect, I wish I would have read the signs better than I had.

‘Yes,’ he shut his eyes. ‘Yes, don’t stop…’

‘Okay,’ I kissed him roughly, running my tongue along the inside of his lip. His body went limp beneath me.

I felt at a loss. If James really had been, as he claimed, completely disinterested when it came to something like this, then I had to start from scratch. We had, admittedly, made impressively good progress in our short amount of time, but kissing and groping wasn’t enough; admittedly, however, after all my starved time of loneliness, it felt damn good.

I pushed myself away, still straddling him, and worked with shaky hands to pull my shirt off. He looked at me, at my skin, with flickering eyes, before tentatively reaching up to touch me. His hands slid up my bare chest as the shirt tugged up over my head, sending a roar of fire through my nerves.

Then for his; me struggling with each button thanks to the tremble my fingers had taken on from the excitement and illicitness of what I was attempting.

Finally I finished with the restricting clothing and pushed it free from his shoulders. Those two strange, parallel pink scars shone up from his skin.

I kissed him again, bringing my lips to his own, to his throat, where I could. I traced my mouth down to his stomach, following the path those two scars ran, and lower. He muttered something as my tongue flicked over one of his jutting hip bones. At the sound of him, my hand tightened round the bulge in his trousers. His legs trembled.

In one swipe I unbuckled his belt and slide it free, dropping it to the floor, I reached for the fly on his trousers and worked them off of him. He arched his back with a groan as my hand brushed against his hard cock in the process. With a breath he pushed himself up, spine curling so I could count his ribs, see his jutting clavicle, gleaming scars, and focused on my own trousers. I worked my hips, helping him push them down.

‘Mark—’ his voice caught in his throat. My heart was thudding so loud I could barely hear anything else. I didn’t know what he’d wanted to say.

Then I was free and we were tangling together. James rolled me over onto my back and my mind reeled dizzily. My tongue flicked across his neck and I bit down. Every last bit of fear I’d had towards him and what this would do to our friendship was forgotten.

‘James, I need you,’ I heard myself gasp; hardly even realising I’d said it. I just knew it was true. I kissed him greedily; arching my body against his. ‘Please, I need you.’

His eyes flickered, uncertain. Then he nodded his head. If he was too shy or unsure to do anything else, fine. I didn’t care. I just needed something.

Nervously, I dipped my head down to the centre of his chest, breathing in the scent of him, feeling his little hairs tickle my face. I moved down to his abdomen. His cock was pressed hard against my chest now, hot and firm, and I was incredibly aware of it.

I’d never been in this position before—and had very rarely ever had a woman in this position—and though I had never imagined it for myself, I certainly knew what
I
would want. And, therefore, what James would more than likely enjoy.

It still did make me nervous. I had not ever attempted anything of such—and though I suppose I had a good handle on the mechanics of it, actually doing it was another matter entirely.

I hooked my fingers round the waistband of his pants and rolled them down past the pale curve of his arse.

That sense of him, so unreal to my imagination up till this point, sent a hot wave of want through me. I wanted to feel him. I wanted him to feel me. I wasn’t sure which desire was worse, honestly: getting off with James, or wanting to make him feel incredible—possibly for the first time. That notion made me mad. If I truly was James’s first… Either way, we were first for each other. I couldn’t fuck this up.

I could count my few sexual encounters on one hand. I’ll be generous and let you guess how many fingers, but it was not an impressive—or exciting—list. What was happening to me now, what I was doing, was far beyond anything I had ever done before.

But somehow, it all worked. And it had been oddly glorious. It was desperate and confusing and baffling. The taste of him filled my mouth, long after I’d released him. His hurried, awkward strokes to bring me to the edge had finally stilled. I could feel the sticky smear on my thighs; could smell it all.

I stared up at the ceiling. My body ticked with heat and feeling, like a killed engine. I was still breathing hard, unable to catch my breath back up with the rest of me, which felt so exhausted suddenly I wasn’t sure I could move.

Confusion riddled my mind. I was not gay. I knew that. So what the
hell
just happened? He’d just taken control of an entire square of people. We’d just run and been in fear and somehow it had just felt right to forget all that and we had fucked. I was too overwhelmed, now that what we’d done was over. Now that we were both lying in silence, hot and bodies remembering each other. My throat constricted as I thought of the implication of all of it.

I didn’t look over to James. I didn’t dare. I’d never experienced anything like this, and that was what scared me. The best I’d ever had. I was still trembling from it, from what it meant. Every breath, every swallow, every taste and move and word. God, what had I done?

As soon as I was able, I wordlessly slid to the edge of the bed and grabbed up my pants and trousers. I struggled into them, shaking so terribly I could hardly manage. My mouth was so dry; dry with the taste of him overwhelming everything else.

I didn’t look go to him. I couldn’t bear it.

James was watching me warily. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I fought into my tshirt. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked after a moment. I did my best to ignore him. Pretend I didn’t hear. ‘Did I do something…wrong?’ There was confusion tinging his voice. Panic edged it.

‘No.’ I swallowed, unable to look at him. Instead I walked as steadily as I could to the door. ‘I need to go out for a while,’ I managed to gasp.

He didn’t answer. Or if he did, I didn’t hear him because I was too busy trying to not bolt from the flat.

16:The Empty Flat

I was choking for air as I made it to the street and my knees went wobbly. My body had been through too much today. It protested violently now. To my alarm, I thought I might be sick there on the pavement, courtesy of the punishing dump of adrenaline.

I needed to clear my head. I needed a drink. Hell, I needed to get pissed.

With no other thought but that I jogged down the street, and didn’t stop till I’d found a dark pub to duck into. I’d lost track of the time and it was packed; making it a fight to claim a place at the bar and order a drink, and then to find a small, rickety table at the back. I was hostile enough at the moment to not care about the affronted looks I gained.

I gazed round at the crowd. Several patrons were wearing Godlink devices tucked behind their ears. Two blokes with—I had to assume headchips—were attempting to slide a pint between the two of them mentally. It wobbled and sloshed beer, but did little else.

James had lifted an entire fucking square of people into the air.

That thought in itself still stunned me. How the hell had he done it? The James I knew—the James I’d just experienced—was so awkward and ungainly and yes—kind-hearted—the very notion of him causing harm and destruction was difficult to believe. And then there was the James on the video, the one with the chimps. It was like there were two different people inside of him. That dangerous, mad one. And that shy, nervous one.

And he was beautiful.

I couldn’t shake that from my head. I wasn’t sure how one did. If one ever did. And it threw me into turmoil over my sexual identity now. I wasn’t gay. I wasn’t. So…what did that make me? Bisexual? I sure as hell was attracted to James. And I’d sure as hell
enjoyed
sucking his cock, having him wank me off. I didn’t suppose that made me straight.

I didn’t know what that made me.

I’d never given much thought to my sexuality. I’d assumed I was straight because I liked women, I liked getting off with them—the few times I’d had—I just
liked
women.

So what the hell was different about James?

I set my empty pint down with a bit too much force and ground my teeth. In light of everything that was happening, fretting over such things should have been the last of my concerns. The world was coming to an end and here I was more concerned about what my sexual orientation was.

My eyes drifted up to a small television hovering above the bar. It sent my stomach down into my shoes as I saw the news covering what had happened in the square. It was an eerie sight, seeing all those bodies rise in the air as one, hanging like limp dolls.

I scanned the blurry image, no doubt taken from CCTV footage, in an attempt to spot me and James. Surely by now it would be reported he was responsible. People had seen us—no doubt filmed us. And James had, of late, been painted as a conspiracy theorist. He’d made headlines. InVizion had made sure—and done a bang on job—of vilifying him. He was a pariah. And seeing him, arms thrust before him, feet spread wide, staring at the group of hanging bodies; he couldn’t have been missed.

And yet…to my surprise…they were not reporting it as such. If I could believe what I was seeing, my friend had nothing to do with it. They were calling it “Weird Mob Phenomenon”, which sounded like total bullshit to me. Apparently, no one knew what to call it. And for some reason, they didn’t want people knowing James was responsible for it.

Why?

Why would they make such a spectacle using him, and then divert people’s attention away from him? Was it some sort of test? If so, why? Had it been to see just how drastic an event they could get away with, or…or what?

The boardroom notes had mentioned nothing about James’s stunt, and I was left clueless. And part of me didn’t want to know. Part of me wanted to forget it, to detach myself from James completely. But that was impossible. I was deeply attached to him. After what we’d just experienced—after all we’d experienced—I was certain of that now.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek in frustration.

Perhaps I’d missed something in the notes. Perhaps there had been some clue that I’d glanced over. Perhaps Fox had spotted it…

Another chill snaked through me. Had James
known?

Surely not have. He would have told me. He could not keep such a thing from me.

Then again, he’d kept many things from me.

James and I had never talked about the
end
. About what would happen once all of this was over. After all of our decoding of notes and investigating and talking to whomever would listen, what would happen when InVizion’s dark goals were reached?

We still didn’t even know what those goals were.

I watched the crowd. What would happen to us all? I had no real belief that James and I would stop anything. It was nothing but a distraction. Because that was what I’d been craving. That’s what all these people were craving. That’s what InVizion was all about. A big, bloody distraction.

Until the end James spoke of changed all of that. Would all of these people around me—would I—really become slaves? Machines? Why the hell would InVizion want that? Why would they want an entire world full of people who did…nothing but what they ordered? What would be the point? What was the point of ruling the world if…there was nothing to rule?

That was what I couldn’t wrap my mind around. For it was completely illogical. I could not understand why anyone would find that appealing. I supposed that if
I
had wanted to control the world, it would be to make it better. But how would enslaving people make anything better? Make anyone happier?

Perhaps I just didn’t have a demented enough mind to envision it.

I stood, unable to buy another; my stomach was too queasy. I needed to get out. Yet where? I couldn’t go back home, not with James still there. I pushed myself through the crowd out to the street. Above me, looming down like some angry giant, was the InVizion tower. It shone blue in the waning light, sticking up obscenely as a middle finger. I wanted to return the gesture.

Instead I stuffed my hands into my pockets and turned my back on it to wander the streets on my own.

When enough hours had passed to stabilise my nerves I stopped at my front door, overcome by an anxiety I didn’t think I had any right to feel. This was
my
home. I couldn’t let my private worries drive me from it. Whatever I met on the other side, whatever happened between James and I, I had to be in control of it.

With hesitation writhing in my gut, I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The flat was still, dark. I stepped in, taking a deep breath, and looked about. Automatically my eyes fell to the mattress, still a mess of twisted sheets. My insides fluttered as I looked at it now, as the memories came back in a vivid rush. I grew warm. I had to see him. Had to work this out. Had to explain that I’d lost my head; that I was sorry for confusing him, but it had been a mistake.

It was hard to want the words to come.              

Yet I had to. I couldn’t lose James. He was all I had. The prospect that I’d perhaps ruined our friendship was beyond unthinkable.

‘James?’ My stomach twisted into knots. Where the hell
was
he? I stepped towards the bathroom, but the door was open, and the room was dark. I flicked the light on anyway. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. He was gone.

I checked my mobile, fingers slipping over the slick surface. No messages from him. No clues to where he had gone. Home? Would he even do such a thing, considering how adverse he’d been to setting foot back in the place since it had been ransacked?

I rubbed my eyes, knackered. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to put all of this as far behind me as possible.

James did tend to wander; go off on his own. Live in his head. I wanted to believe that and not the other possibility. I tried to reassure myself.

In frustration I pulled my shirt off and shuffled towards the bathroom. The feeling of powerlessness was welling in me. What could I do? I was just as helpless in this as everything else in my bloody life.

With morning, there was no sign of James. No texts, no missed calls. Nothing.

It had been difficult, at first, to try and fall asleep in the bed that James and I had shared. I could not stop my twisting and shifting; my attempts to find a comfortable spot that did not scream of him were maddening.

I spent most of the night replaying the events of the day. Well, I say that. It was less about what happened in the square. More about what had happened only a few hours ago. Had I terrified him? Sent him away? It that was the case, I wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe James needed space just as I had. Perhaps that was for the best. Because, at the moment, I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

I sat up, tossing my phone aside and groaned. What did I do now? James had been my guidance: my connection to Fox, and, of course, InVizion. Now I was at a loss of what to do without him; of how to go about my day.

Didn’t help it was my day off.

I busied myself with coffee and pulled the internet up on my computer as I sipped at the bitter drink. The search for “Weird Mob Phenomenon” was already on the screen by the time I’d figured out what I’d wanted to search. I fucking hated artificial intelligence sometimes. A plethora of images and videos popped up. First-hand accounts, photos of James and I, and long blog posts on conspiracy theories bombarded me.

I didn’t know where to begin. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.

And then the screen blinked and refreshed with hundreds of new images from a different location. I stared in shock. Where was this? Italy? These people weren’t jerking in the air; they were frozen, as if someone had stopped the video feed, yet cars still went by in the background; onlookers stopped and stared at the curious, living statues. Was it a trick? Some prank? It was so hard to tell fact from fiction these days I didn’t know what to trust.

More reports began to file in. From everywhere in the world.

It was all happening at once.

I swore and stood, dialling James’s mobile and praying for him to answer as each ring went by. Only to realise I was hearing it ring from beneath the bed. I swore again and stared at the screen.

It was happening everywhere. How the hell was that even possible? It couldn’t be James. It
couldn’t.
It wasn’t possible.

I scanned the images frantically, knowing it was impossible, but still looking for any sign of James. He wasn’t there, from what I could tell. What the hell was going on in the world? Why was it happening? Was it some new form of regression, like the RAVs? But that made no sense.

I groaned, rubbing my head. A magnificent headache was beginning. I wished I had someone to talk to about it. James, hell, I’d even take Fox.

And then James’s mobile began to buzz. I jumped from my seat and dove for it, only wondering as I fished about under the bed why he hadn’t taken it with him. That question left a bad taste in my mouth.

By the time I found it—tangled in the sheets—it had stopped its rings. I cursed.

The screen was flashing with one message. I tapped on it, hoping by some impossible chance it was James. The display wanted a new passcode—the one I keyed in from the other night no longer worked. I supposed being James Nightgood one learnt to be careful. I couldn’t begin to guess what kind of mental numerical sequence James would have. It flashed for thumbprint recognition. I slid my thumb across the screen in desperation, and, to my surprise, it opened. For a moment, I didn’t quite realise it hard worked. I could unlock James’s phone? He’d set it to
my
print?

I didn’t really question it. No one ever called James. I knew that. Whoever had left a message on his mobile, it was important. I felt no guilt as I played it.

I hadn’t been expecting a woman’s voice. And I hadn’t been expecting her to be so irate.

‘James, you fucking bastard! How could you sign the order to stop Mum’s treatment? It was working, you fucking, selfish bastard! I don’t give a damn about your little crusade against the company! She was getting better, James. Mum was getting better and you couldn’t bloody stand it. Well, I’m switching her back to Godlink. I don’t care what your delusional, paranoid, suspicions are. You will
not
drag our mother into this and stop her treatment!’

The message ended with the same fury which it had begun. I was left staring at the phone, blinking stupidly. The first thought running through my mind was:
James has a sister?

It was more information than I knew what to do with at the moment. I let the mobile slip through my fingers and fall back to the mattress. My stomach bubbled with nerves. I wanted an explanation. Why hadn’t he mentioned that?

And where the
hell
was he? I glanced at the clock. It was rare when a day passed he and I did not keep some contact with each other. Yes, there were days when he was distracted and did not speak to me, but this felt different. There was something much more…ominous…to this than a simple troubling maths problem.