Long Division (34 page)

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Authors: Taylor Leigh

BOOK: Long Division
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‘How do you feel?’ he asked after a moment.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I could sense the beginnings of a massive headache coming on. ‘Not so sure yet. Worn. Drained.’

He nodded.

Our eyes locked. ‘That…that was hardly enough, was it? Taking out the tower will be a million times more difficult.’

‘Probably. Yes.’

That scared me a little, as the ache in my head grew a little more insistent. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. But I was excited. I’d just—with James’s help, of course—lifted an object with nothing but my mind. Perhaps I’d had nothing to do with it. I was vague on the mechanics of it, but I got that James was the one in control. I was just some sort of vessel for him to do his work. Maybe it was because I had a tumour. That whole organic transmission thing. I didn’t suppose it really mattered.

We practiced. For hours. Till I thought my head might burst and my nose and eyes were leaking. It was not until James had me place my hand on the table and direct the flow through it, down across the floor and to my computer sitting at the desk on the far side of the room that I was allowed to stop. When he saw the screen go black and it unable to start again, James said I was ready.

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but I didn’t want to argue. I was weak and shaky.

The prospect of leaving the warmth of the sofa and James to step out into the grey world, do that, was not a pleasant one.

James stared past me, eyes unfocused; he was more drained than I. I reached out and rubbed his arm, as close as we’d been mentally, I’d had no contact with him since we’d started. I felt distant now. I wanted to break that.

‘Are you okay?’ I whispered hoarsely.

He raised his eyes, they focused somewhere on my face. ‘It’s hard to…’ he swallowed, ‘I—I’ve never been this close to someone before.’

I wondered if he meant physically, mentally or emotionally. He’d been thrown into all three fairly deeply since we’d started our relationship.

I sighed and looked down to the scars on his chest, peeking out from the V of his baggy shirt. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable?’

James slid in closer to me. ‘Yes.’

I nodded, disappointed.

‘But…I don’t want it to stop.’ His fingers started to trace against my skin. Not planning about where he touched, sending little tingles of warmth through me.

I let him touch, feeling my body float in a pleasurable fog. It was much better than him being in my mind, manipulating me like a puppet. This was level and much more intimate. I didn’t have the feeling of being skinned and bared to him. I was back to being just as mysterious as he was, my flesh and desires back as my own. James’s eyes followed his fingers.

I kissed him. I couldn’t help it. It was just a soft kiss, but my lips lingered against his a little longer than I’d intended. I simply wanted to be involved again.

James’s eyes widened as I pulled back at last and darted over me.

Suddenly every small piece of my body was begging for him to respond. After the stripping of myself, I wanted it back, and I wanted it with him. If he’d let me. He had to know. He said he always knew. Even if he didn’t dive through my mind, hunting for every thought I had, he had to sense it. We’d been sitting close to each other for hours, picking through my head and I needed to breathe again.

His lips twitched in a small smile. Shy, but okay. The tightness in my belly I hadn’t noticed till now released at that, only to settle, achingly, much lower.

I pulled the red hair away from his forehead and our lips met again.

There were his hands then, pushing under my shirt, running along the small of my back; his touch smooth and cool against my hot skin. I was surprised by his action, shuddered at it; reminded of him so easily pushing his hands into my mind. They rested there at the base of my spine, rising and falling with each breath I took.

‘I think I like this better than having you in my head,’ I said against his lips.

He smiled a little, I could feel it, not see it, as he nosed me. ‘There isn’t much in your head at the moment, anyhow.’

That was certainly true. Nothing but how I was feeling, and those detailed fantasies ran through my head on a tight loop.

Even if he was a little ignorant and disinterested in such things, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against mine, taking control of what I’d thought had been my kiss. He was getting too good at this manipulating of his. Not that I particularly minded.

I obediently followed the direction of his mouth, taking it long and slow and risked slipping my tongue to the inside of his lips. He didn’t seem to mind. At my waist, I felt his hands leave the small of my back and go sliding round to the front to give a gentle squeeze. My insides flooded with warm pleasure. Oh, I hadn’t thought he’d do that.

I sighed deeply as he pulled himself over me, taking me by surprise me again with his initiative. His hips nested between my legs in easy intrusion.

‘Do you?’ He slid his hand lower, past my waistband and I bucked against his cool touch. I clenched my teeth and moaned. God, the promise of all that could come of that just felt so good.

I swallowed. It was difficult to feel the offer was genuine, and not simply him interpreting my desires. I didn’t want it that way. ‘No, it’s…it’s all right.’ I rested my head against the armrest again, heart thudding. I was growing aroused and he was certainly not helping. I let out a broken breath as he finally withdrew his hand.

My head started to swim as I melted, much too comfortable. Desire hadn’t completely overridden my systems yet and my mind was still clouded with the drowsy contentedness that had filled me since we’d finished our practicing.

I gazed at him in the first moment of stillness between our movements, and what I saw hurt. He looked so tired. His eyes were hollow, yet still held the same green spark that I remembered from our first meeting—save that they’d become sunken, exhausted. He was in pain. I could tell that all too well. It was just beneath the surface, hidden, where I couldn’t reach. Another headache blinding him, so much worse than the one he’d given me.

I reached out and cupped his head in my hand. ‘Are you all right?’

He closed his eyes to my touch; as if that was all he’d wanted to begin with. I felt like I should tell him he didn’t need to go to such measures for that. That I was always here; I’d
always
be there for him. I knew that now beyond any doubt.

‘Sometimes I wonder that myself,’ he said at last. ‘I start to think that I’m not. I think about all that’s happening…’ With that he leant forward and rested against my chest.

I ran my fingers through his hair, waiting.

He turned to one side, me as a pillow. ‘But then I look to you, and…and everything just seems right again.’

I shook my head, baffled and rested it back against the armrest of the sofa. ‘I don’t know what you see in me.’

James pulled one arm up and ran it along my side in gentle strokes. ‘I thought I made that clear.’

I lowered my eyes to his. His face was close to me now that he was lying so comfortably over me, like a blanket. ‘It still seems an odd choice. My mind is nothing like yours—nothing.’

His eyelids were drooping a little, tired like me. I wanted to stay here, I wanted to make this last, I didn’t want to go to the tower. I didn’t want to strain our minds to the point of exhaustion; to perhaps a point we could not come back from.

‘Well,’ he said blearily, ‘you’ve been the most satisfactory thus far. I think I’ll keep you.’

I chuckled as his nose brushed against mine. ‘Aren’t I lucky, then?’

We were quiet for a while.

‘I...suppose we should…should consider me doing this, shouldn’t we?’ My eyes drifted to the tower and it sent my nerves into a tight ball. I wished we could make love here on the sofa—properly. I wished we had time. Now…now I knew we’d probably never get our chance. I’d never know.

‘Hmmm?’ His chest rose a little heavier than it had last I’d noticed. I thought I could see his head droop; it tapped against my chest.

‘Hey, James?’

He didn’t respond at all this time. I could hear his breaths, deep, raspy, those of the ill. I put a hand on his shoulder and shook him a little; his head rolled.

‘James?’

A cold knot of dread started to form at the base of my gut. There was something not right about this, not natural. His breathing dropped another notch, so slow and quiet now it was difficult for me to spot.

They were doing this. Oh, God, they were doing this.

His whole body had become a dead weight against me now.

‘Stop it!’ I shouted, not knowing if they could hear me. ‘Damn it! Stop it right now! Let him go!’

My mind struggled to rationalise this sudden hijacking of his body. They couldn’t kill him. They couldn’t possibly—wouldn’t possibly—kill him. He was too important. He still had work to do.

Could they possibly know what we’d been planning? Was this their defence? To put him into some sort of harmless coma and pass through the Final Phase without so much as noticing it had occurred?

I desperately shook James again, knowing it would do little good.

He didn’t stir.

I swore angrily at the ceiling; at InVizion.

In the end, there was nothing for it, for the blank white ceiling echoed my cries back, James slumbered peacefully against me and the tower shone on in the gloom, never to go out.

 

 

 

23:Sweet Dreams

 

 

I don’t know how long I lay there, staring in a sort of panic at the slack, calm face of James as he slipped deeper and deeper into whatever form of hibernation InVizion had created for him. I wasn’t sure if it was part of the last stage, or if it was because of me, but I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t bear it.

My cursing, my threats, my begging did no good.
I
did no good.

The weather had turned foul. The fog had not lifted and as I paced the white carpeted floor, head in hands, the sky began to flash and rumble. And as the sun began to set, nothing changed but the rain pattering against the windows.

The last free day of the human race was ending, and I was doing nothing—less than nothing. For if I was to spend this day as my last and do nothing to stop it, this wasn’t how I’d have spent it. I’d have wanted it with James, I’d have wanted it with drink and doing whatever I could think of that I’d have thought perhaps I’d miss. Most of those thoughts had to do with James, and the things we’d never done.

But none of that mattered now. I’d let the day slip away, and it had gone unnoticed by James. My brief stint with the mind power had been the only productive thing I’d done, and even that I wasn’t sure I’d have wanted.

As the sky rumbled again, I stopped my nerve-inspired paces to stare at my friend. He still slept on, heavy, buried in the pile of blankets I’d found for him. It looked peaceful there. If I was meant to die, I wouldn’t mind it so much to just crawl into the nest I’d made with him. I was tired. I wanted to sleep.

Sleep. My eyes drifted closed and I swayed on my feet. The great river of blue, my connection to James, came to mind as I settled in the darkness. It was there, somewhere, locked behind a door James knew how to open. If only I could find it, access it somehow. Without James conscious to control me with his abilities, I didn’t know what good it would do, but…could I somehow borrow James’s power?

It sounded impossible as I thought of it, but if I could possibly…I took the three drunken, blind steps forward till my outstretched hand found James. My fingers curled into the thick, soft mop of his hair and I focused on the touch, focused on trying to find any sign of him, any pull of that current.

Time eventually began to slide away as I slipped deeper and deeper into my head. It was all darkness; heavy, complete darkness, hot like hell.

And something in there was beating.

James’s heart.

I focused on the thuds, raced for it, pushing through my distracted thoughts, trying desperately to get back to that feeling of before. He was still there. He was asleep, but he was still there.

He was dreaming about me.

‘James! Can you hear me? I’m here!’

The hot dark pushed at my cry.

‘Wake up!’

I turned this way and that in an attempt to find the distant, sleepy presence; stumbling deeper in, running towards the black. I was no longer sure if I was standing; what would happen to me if I kept going. I couldn’t go back and check. Couldn’t see what the world outside was like now. I just had to run towards the shrouded form of my friend.

I hit a wall. Hit so hard it left me reeling. I fell backwards in the dark and felt my head spin. Snatches of reality blinked around me. I struggled to shake them away. I couldn’t go back. I had to stay. I tentatively reached out a hand in the blackness. Nothing. Sweat rolled down my back, covered my neck, slid between my legs.

I stretched, losing my balance, and my hand connected with it. The wall. Warm, soft, alive. It pulsed with something just on the other side. The river.

‘James?’

Silence. I scrabbled to my feet and ran my hands along the barrier, searching for any crack, any way through to the river that connected us on the other side.

‘James, are you here? You’ve got to answer me!’

There was a sleepy stirring, and then, from the other side, an amused echo: distant, muffled.
‘Mark, what are you doing here? Don’t tell me I’m connecting in my sleep these days. That could be potentially hazardous.’

I swore. Was he conscious of the fact he was asleep? Could I get him to wake up? ‘Look, InVizion’s put you in some sort of catatonic state—I think. I don’t know how I managed to get this far. I guess you’ve just buried a bit of you somewhere in the back of my head.’

There was an unconcerned mumble from him.
‘Well, I do suppose that makes sense. As I said before: you are the most calming spot in my small universe I can find. Doesn’t hurt so bad, nestled in here.’

I wrinkled my nose. He was camping out in my head. I didn’t even have time to work out how that was possible. ‘Can you…do what you did before? If you’re asleep can you help me? If I leave you here and I go to the tower can you still help?’

He mused over that.
‘Well, that would certainly be interesting, considering my concentration is severely hampered by the fact my mind is…turned off at the moment.’

‘Well, clearly not all of it is.’

He smirked a little, I could hear it.
‘I suppose if it is something you are determined on doing, I will have to come along. Not much will get done in our current state.’

I tapped the wall that separated us. ‘Think you can get this thing opened again?’

Silence for a long moment as he ran his hands over it, I could feel the impression of his palms as they once and a while brushed over mine.
‘Perhaps. But it will take time.’

I turned back, looking the way I’d come. The long dark hall, back towards light, back towards reality, back towards the flat and me standing over him as he slept. ‘Can you manage on your own?’

Again, more silence.
‘Yes. Go back. Go to the tower. It will do us no bloody good if I can’t manage it on my own. But I can’t make promises. I’m not…functioning fully, am I?’

I nodded. Right. I turned round and went sprinting back the way I’d come—or thought I’d come: back towards the shallow end of my thoughts. The distractions and memories and worries of everyday started to flood in on all sides and then suddenly I was back, breathing, hand buried in James’s hair. He hadn’t stirred, looked no different from when I’d left him. I wasn’t so sure he was aware of our conversation at all—if it had even happened. Perhaps I’d blacked out and dreamt the whole thing. It did seem incredibly bizarre as I thought of it.

I gazed down at his slack face. Perhaps he was in there somewhere, working to break down the wall that his unconscious state had erected.

I didn’t have time to fret over it. I turned from him and dashed to our room, paying little mind to what clothes I threw on.

It was after nine. The entire day had slipped from me. This was all I had left. I had better use what I had left wisely.

On my way out, I spotted one of James’s Godlink sets on the table. With gritted teeth, I reluctantly snagged it and stuffed it into my pocket.

The rain pattered against my clothing as I dropped from the last step and into the weather, but I didn’t really notice, and it did not really seep through. I took to the pavement, jogging along the forming puddles and the hurrying few I met. No one looked to me. No one knew that in a few short hours their lives would be completely altered. If I didn’t do something. If we didn’t stop this. Now.

A dampened advert for the Chelsea Flower Show broke to pieces beneath my trainer as I ran.

It did not take me long to reach the glowing, shining pillar, shrouded still in clouds. I almost wished it had taken longer, for I was still lost.

I stared up at the tower, feeling the knot in my stomach clench tighter. The hair on my arms rose as I listened to an almost subliminal pulse that flicked through the air like a fan. This thing was gearing up; resting for its big day tomorrow. How had I convinced myself I was ready for this? I hadn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough time.

I cast a look round me as I slid the Godlink set on, it rubbed against my ears. I could see no security save for the many cameras pointed at me in unblinking stares. No one walked this way. The street was relatively clear; not many sightseers in this area. Not in this weather. And even if there were passers-by, they shouldn’t know what was happening. Not till it was too late.

I closed my eyes again, feeling the
drip, drip, drip
of water as it slid down from my hair and traced the path of my features. Been a night like this when the accident had happened. When I’d wrecked the car and my entire life had changed. What would have happened if I’d not done that? Would I have met James? Would I have known about any of this? Would I still be standing here now?

There wasn’t much for thinking that way, so I dropped it. I rolled my shoulders and focused on stepping back to the dry darkness of my subconscious. Was James still there? Could he possibly sense me from so far away? Could he still possibly be embedded in my head? I could only pray my tumour ensured that.

Silence for a long time, save for the hum of the lights of the tower and the rumble of the occasional thunder. And then, stirring, it came, the lap of something else slowly starting to fill my head. It came in little waves, pushing at the edges of my mind, and my body started to respond.

‘Made it, did you?’

‘I seem to have. I trust you appreciate just how difficult this is. My head is cracking open because of this.’

I frowned. ‘You can feel that in your sleep?’

‘I will tell you it is a very peculiar experience. But when one has a brain tumour one tends to become somewhat accustomed to head pain.’

We both went silent as we focused on the collecting current. It was starting to flood in now, and I could feel James in it all. Every fibre in me was beginning to strain; wanted to have this force take over it. The want of it surrounded me.

‘Are you ready?’

Yes, God, my whole body was ready. Ready like I was about to be hit with the greatest orgasm of my life. Ready like this was all it had been preparing for in all my years of growing and developing and existing.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. But…I’m not so sure what exactly I’m supposed to be doing.’ I swallowed. A water droplet hit my nose.

There was a smile in the glowing, growing flood.
‘Just leave that to me.’

I felt water fall from my fingers as they twitched. It wasn’t me. And as much as I longed to move my fingers on my own and distinguish what was mine and what was his, I fought it. I couldn’t break that. It had to be him. We’d been over this. Could I open my eyes? Could I see? Did I dare?

My steps started forward, splashing through the puddles, turning the legs of my jeans soggy and heavy. If people were up there, watching me from those windows, would they have time to react? Would those watching the cameras?

I was stopped about ten metres from the side of the building and my head went up. My eyes peeled open and I swayed from the vertigo. The tower looked like it was leaning over me at this angle, a living thing that was bending down to eat me alive. And the rain: the rain didn’t fall straight either. It curved with the tower, stabbing down like pins falling from a box. I didn’t blink as it hit my cheeks, eyes; that reflex seemed to have left with my control.

I was overcome as I saw it. I couldn’t do it. I had thought I would be inside, tearing out wires mentally and breaking computer screens with glances. What was he planning on possibly doing from out here? Was I to touch the tower as if I had some deadly plague?

In response, my arms rose from my sides by his will. I could feel my pulse. It beat in my ears and drowned out the traffic and thunder. James was in complete control now. He had a plan.

He didn’t speak, but as I felt my arms rise, felt the muscles reacting and the tendons strain, I got the distinct sense that
this was going to hurt. Possibly a lot.

And then it went crashing through me, a staggering wave of power that had to have come from every live bit of this city, every car, every light, every human and computer and train. It went roaring through; slamming into my palms and building up a pressure that cracked at my insides as if my bones were nothing but eggshells.

I wanted to scream, but all of that was gone. I could do nothing. This was InVizion. This was what it was to be under their control. This is what they had. This power. This feeling of the entire city humming through their veins.

My hands, shaking with the overwhelming new weight, rose higher. A scream stretched in my head, hysterical.

Lighting flashed overhead and it was mine, too. I reached up my hand and snagged it—not physically, of course, but I felt it nonetheless. The great jagged knife of light jerked from its path in the sky and smashed straight into the tower with a
CRACK!
that sent the pavement splitting.

I watched as sparks flew from the huge bowtie-looking aerial that adorned the top of the building. James wasn’t finished yet. Both of my palms went forward and cupped, turned suddenly to the right, sending so much agonising pain through me I staggered, roared, despite his control.

Above, the tower gave out a horrible groan and the entire top of it twisted sharply the direction of my movement, as if I’d snapped its neck. Glass went tumbling down, crystal with the rain, but I didn’t move to save myself.

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