New Reality: Truth (3 page)

"All right. Keep your mane on, Seabiscuit."

Tom's face fell slack as if living up to his moniker. "Stop calling me that."

Jake presented his friend with the back of his middle finger before returning his attention to the headset.

"What are you doing, Jake?"

When Jake looked up, he saw that Tom had a metal bar in his right hand. What had he seen? Was it them? Would he admit it if it was? Glancing in the direction he expected the monsters to be, Jake still saw nothing.

The headset was the second one Jake had seen that wasn't attached to a gamer. He could crack it. How hard would it be to get the food tube working for them? That would shut Tom up.

The long man was still glaring at him, so Jake pretended to examine the gamer. "He's not been dead long." Some flies flew out of the cadaver's mouth when he nudged his face with his foot. He swallowed and grit shifted in his throat like he had flies of his own.

Jake continued, "I'd say he was in his forties." Putting his foot on the big man's forehead, Jake rolled it from side to side. "He could do with shedding a few pounds, mind. The game really isn't good for your health." It hurt his throat to shout over the wind.

"He looks better than either of us, Jake. And we're probably younger than him."

Looking at his own body and then up at his friend, the pair of them seeming about as well cared for as prisoners of war, Jake accepted Tom's point with a shrug. "I'm sure he's only just died. I'm certain that's why the headset's still here."

"It's a trap, Jake! Everything about this world is a bloody set up. A crater with a prize in it? Could it be any more inviting? Just hurry the fuck up!"

When Jake turned his full attention onto the headset, Tom's voice faded into the wind and Jake said, "Why do you think they still feel the need to brand everything?"

"Fucking hell, Jake, get away from the fucking headset before it's too fucking late!"

"I mean, it's not like the technology could belong to anyone else. They've won the corporate race; they have a monopoly on the world."

"They're reminding you who your master is. They're reminding you they're always watching. That you only exist with their permission." Tom paused before adding, "Maybe you should pay attention to that. Besides, do I need to remind you that we're still looking for Rory? I don't want anything to jeopardize that."

"Of course, Tom." It had been over a year since they'd last seen Tom's son. The boy lay beside his mother and had already been playing New Reality for three years by then. All Tom wanted at the time was to stay with him, but after removing Thalia's headset, Rixon didn't want them anywhere near the boy. The Bots had shepherded them away for days, their Gatling guns the sharp teeth that nipped at their heels when they strayed too far off course. They'd been looking for him ever since.

Bending down, Jake peered into the headset. His right hand opened and closed, itching to grab the strap. The muscles in his weak arm buzzed with the desire to reach out.

"Don't, Jake."

Jake ignored him.

"Have you not seen what those Gatling guns do to the foxes and crows that accidentally touch one?"

Jake thought about the crow he'd recently seen explode from a barrage of bullets. It went up like a balloon filled with glitter.

When Jake knelt down, the rubble shifted by his feet, wobbling the headset. Adrenaline put a spring in his legs and he jumped back. To touch it was to die.

"Is the food tube malfunctioning, Jake? Is that what you're looking at?"

Jake shook his head.

"Damn it. Stop wasting our time then. You're putting both of us in danger. Leave it alone and hurry up!"

"There must be a way to hack this thing." Several burning coughs exploded from Jake's tight lungs.

"You and I both saw what happened the last time we tampered with a headset." Grinding his jaw, Tom waved a bony fist. "I swear, if you don't hurry up, then I'm off. You can fight a Rixon-Bot on your own. Anyway, there's no way the headset will malfunction." Lifting a rock, he said, "This is more likely to go wrong. You're hungry and deluded, now hurry up."

Holding his concave stomach, nausea sending a sharp pain through him as it gurgled in protest, Jake whispered to himself, "I'm not hungry. I'm starving."

"Anyway, even if a headset did go screwy, there's no way we'd be able to keep it," Tom pointed out. "Rixon would terminate us within seconds for stealing their property. All it needs is a tracking device to know where the headset is. It's not rocket science. Besides, they're always watching us anyway."

Suddenly Tom stopped talking and his jaw fell lose.

Before Jake could question it, he heard the sound.

Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip
.

It was a small helicopter blade.

Witnessing his own fear in Tom's panicked face, Jake looked back at the headset. Should he just take it and run?

His breath quickened. He searched around. Where was the Bot? Jumping back, he continued to look for it. He hadn't touched it. He hadn't done anything wrong. All of the muscles in his body locked tight. His pulse galloped. He hadn't touched it. He hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't touched it. He hadn't done anything wrong.

Where was the Bot? What would it do to him? He hadn't done anything wrong. Please, he hadn't done anything wrong.

The noise grew louder.

***

Watching Jake and Tom was a break from the madness. Stepping away from the tornado of chaos and bloodshed, she sat observing the two. If sides were to be taken, she was on Jake's. The monsters were real. Running her tongue over her dry lips, she stared at Tom. He'd realize that soon enough.

Chapter Two

Holding his stomach as he laughed, Jake pointed at the mangy fox scratching itself. It was sat beneath a sheet of corrugated metal. Its whirring back leg spun like a propeller, flipping the sheet:
Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip
. "It's just a fox, Tom. Little shit." He covered his chest with his palm, his heavy heartbeat kicked against it. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack then. Jesus!" Picking up a rock, Jake launched it at the flea-bitten canid. It sailed several meters wide.

After the fox had run away, he looked up at Tom.

Peering down at the ineffectual projectile, Tom pointed at it. "That's why we're starving."

Throwing his arms up, Jake said, "I've not seen you do any better."

Tom's blank expression was made all the more barren considering his once brilliant blue eyes were now gunmetal grey. Speaking in a sigh, he shook his head. "Please just hurry up, Jake. I'm leaving in one minute. I can't put my life in danger for you any longer. You've got what we came for." When he turned to look out over the wasteland, the wind made streamers of his raggedy clothes.

Before Jake walked away, he looked back at the glossy headset. It shone against its battered surroundings. Holding his breath, Jake reached forward.

"Leave it alone, Jake." Tom tapped his wrist. "I'm gone in forty-five seconds."

Before Jake could protest, something else grabbed his attention. Staring at the small hill in front of him, he could hear it was coming from the other side. A slow and deliberate scratch. Imagining a black fingernail, diamond tough, Jake saw it running over dry concrete. Each stroke sent a shiver snaking down his spine.

Unable to control his shaking legs, Jake continued to stare, expecting something to appear. A hollow face. Blackened skin. A charred and forked tongue tasting the air, licking cracked lips. Sharp teeth that craved soft flesh. Goosebumps raised all over his body, and he stepped back.

"Hurry up!"

Glancing over his shoulder, Jake saw Tom's face slack with fear as he too stared in the direction of the sound. There was something there for sure.

Backing away again, Jake returned his focus to the hill. "What is it, Tom? What can you see?"

"Thirty seconds, Jake." There was a quiver in his voice that wasn't there before.

A lump of brick slipped beneath Jake's foot, spiking his pulse as his arms windmilled. Managing to stay upright, he gasped for breath. "Can you see them, Tom?"

"See who?"

Tom was the worst liar. "You can, can't you? What do they look like?" Gulping an earthy mouthful of dust, Jake continued stepping back. "How many of them?"

The scratching got louder.

"What are you talking about? You're imagining things, Jake. Just fucking hurry up. Jesus, how many times do I have to say it? I'm worried that a Rixon--"

Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip
.

There was no way he was falling for that again. Jake turned to look at the fox.

But it wasn't a fox.

Rising up behind Tom like some monster from a lagoon, a large Rixon-Bot cast the tall man in shadow.

Cowing beneath it, Tom flinched as it flew past him.

It was in front of Jake in a blink. With an itch burning in his gritty throat, Jake swallowed back the need to cough.

The meter-long machine hovered just centimeters away. It was black like the headset. Blood red letters were embossed down its side. RIXON. It drew closer. The chill of its cold metal shell radiated from its heavy body. Jake shivered. His lungs tightened. Stars swam in his vision. His heart throbbed in his neck.

The machine's lens was about the size of a dinner plate. It reflected everything back at Jake. His wide eyes. His gawping mouth. His dilated pupils. It revealed nothing of the machine other than cold detachment. Jake's life wasn't important.

Swallowing twice in quick succession did nothing to ease his need to cough. Would it startle the machine? Could you startle a machine? The sudden sound could be perceived as a threat. He couldn't chance it.

The Bot remained still, the mini helicopter blade whirring to keep it stationary. The smell of oil filled the air. Jake's stuttered breath turned to condensation on the lens. Darkness shifted behind the glass. A decision was being made. Thumb up or down? The shiny Gatling guns hung beneath it. They were level with Jake's soft stomach.

Breathe, Jake
.

When the Bot flew backwards, Jake shook. The hot bullets would tear through him like needles through wet tissue. Jake closed his eyes, and the sting of warm urine ran down his thigh.
Please make it quick
.

Opening his eyes again, Jake saw the Bot fly at him. Ducking at the last moment, it sailed straight over his head. The gust of wind blew his hair from his face. Half an inch lower and... He couldn't think about it.

Spinning around, he stepped back, tripped and fell. Landing on a large lump of concrete, Jake yelped as nauseating pain burned through his lower back. The machine spun to face him again.

Instead of attacking, the Rixon-Bot watched Jake but didn't move. Maybe it wasn't bothered. Maybe Jake was right. He hadn't touched their property. Why would it want him?

The machine turned away again and hovered over the headset. A small hook extended from its bottom. It curled around one of the straps and lifted it from the ground. The black helmet swayed beneath it in the wind.

Despite the very real threat to his life, Jake still wanted the headset.

As the Bot rose out of the crater, the headset was tossed and flipped by the elements. Hovering for a second, the Bot then accelerated away, taking Rixon's property with it.

With puffed cheeks, Jake released a long stream of air before falling into a coughing fit.

After a minute or two, Jake looked up at his friend and laughed. "Wow, I thought I was done for."

Tom was staring over the brow of the hill where the scratching had been coming from. The skin on his previously white face had turned translucent.

When Jake tried to move, an acute agony stretched up his back, restricting his already tight lungs. "Tom," he wheezed. Holding a hand out to his friend, he added, "Help me out."

The tall man didn't move.

"Come on, Tom."

Then he heard the scratching again. Maybe it was always there. Clicky nails. Scuttling feet. There was more than one of them. The things had waited for Rixon to leave. The leftovers were theirs.

Forgetting his pain, Jake jumped up. Scrabbling to get away, he fell forwards into the hill. Using both his arms and legs, he pulled at the rubble to get out of the crater. The awkward movement threatened to crick his back. His limbs burned as the ground shifted.

The sound of feet chased him.
Clickety-click
.

Don't look around
.
Focus on Tom
.

Slipping back down the hill, Jake kept his eyes up.
Don't look around
.
Focus on Tom
. It didn't help that Tom was fixed on what was occurring behind, his mouth wide in a silent scream.

Gasping to fill his lungs, stars flashed in Jake's vision. The glasses did nothing to stop his eyes streaming. It reduced Tom to a blur but didn't mask his limp horror.

Digging deeper, Jake pushed on.

When Jake finally fell over the top of the hill, his pulse swelled in his eyeballs and sweat ran down his face. Seconds later a sharp pain bit into his shoulder. "Ow!" Looking up, Jake saw that Tom had a hold of him.

"Don't look around," Tom said through gritted teeth. His eyes were wide. "Let's go."

The dusty air didn't seem capable of supplying enough oxygen for Jake's getaway, but Tom wasn't one to exaggerate. He'd have to cope. With nausea boiling in his guts, Jake followed on the heels of his departing friend.

The clickety-click behind them quietened, and as much as Jake wanted to turn around, he didn't. What mattered was that they weren't giving chase.

Jake then heard a wet squelching like pigs feeding.

That was why they never found any corpses.

***

She swallowed the thick lump of meat. It was bland. Salty.

Jake had escaped Rixon's wrath today. If it wasn't for Tom, he would have turned around. He would have seen them. Would he have surrendered there and then? Would he have lost the strength in his legs as well as the excrement in his bowels? Would that have been the end?

The questions were pointless. She chewed the grey meat and watched on. Those around her were too preoccupied to notice Jake. That was good. Jake was hers.