by Tom Cheshire
“Gah!” I hissed softly. The knife went through my index finger, straight to the bone. The pain was intense and… and… wait. No it wasn’t. There was no blood, it was as if the knife had gone straight through to the table, as if my hand were a hologram or…
The breakfast bell chimed; I looked up as Emma, Chloe and Dom came groggily trudging in. I looked again at my hand. The knife had vanished. I had never even been holding it. I looked to where the knife had originally been, lying flat on the table. It was still there. It had never moved an inch. I...
“Morning Joe,” Dom yawned.
“Morning,” I said, massaging my index finger which, of course, had no injury. I watched silently as breakfast was served, sitting in contemplation as the others ate their way through depressing purple sludge.
“Aren’t you gonna have yours, Joe?” Chloe asked. “Are you feeling okay?”
I paused.
“No, Chloe. No I’m not.” I spoke softly, reaching into my pocket. Travis’ eyes widened, he got up and walked out, presumably to get the lighter. He probably thought there was no use holding out any longer, we were going to have to fix this right here, right now, before I felt any worse…
“There’s something I have to tell you guys…” I began. I was on the cusp of telling Dom, Chloe and Emma about the cigarette cure that I’d kept in my pocket all this time, but then my eye caught something across the room. It was something I’d been neglecting for a while now. I’d been trying not to think about it, but there it was. The coffee machine.
Wait…
“Where is it?” I asked. I was searching deep into both of my pockets, becoming frantic. It wasn’t the cigarette I was after now.
“What are you looking for?” Dom asked.
“I’m sure it was right here…” I said.
“Joe!” Dom snapped.
I took a deep breath.
“The coffee sachet. From my pocket. Emma, where is it?”
“I don’t know what you did with it, Joe…” Emma sighed.
“No, no, no… One of you has it. I couldn’t just lose something like that!” I snarled.
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about Joe! Don’t do this, you’re scaring me,” Chloe whimpered.
“No, this is important!” I banged my fists on the table. “One of you has been through my pockets, I need that sachet!”
“We haven’t been in your pockets!” Dom yelled.
I stood up quickly.
“Maybe you haven’t,” I said softly. “But I know who has.”
I darted to the door with a flash, slamming it shut behind me.
“Joe, stop!” Emma cried. No, nobody was going to stop me getting that sachet back. Remembering my earlier idea about securely locking doors, I grabbed a pole from the corridor walls and jammed it behind the kitchen door just as Dom was about to open it. He hammered on it with all his might and yelled out.
“Joe! Open the door!” But it was to no avail; the pole had jammed it shut. Dom, Chloe and Emma were all trapped in the kitchen.
“I have to do this!” I yelled from the other side.
“JOOOOOOEEEEE!!!!”
I stormed into the common room. Bob was on the table.
“Oh, hello there, Mr. Joe. I have another transcript for y…”
“WHERE’S MY DAMN COFFEE?!” I yelled.
“I beg your pardon? Perhaps the new transcript can wait for…”
I grabbed Bob and threw him forcefully across the room. He hit the wall hard and bounced across the floor, letting out a very convincing scream.
“You know what I’m talking about!” I yelled. “It was in my pocket!”
“What are you talking about Mr. – waaaah!” Bob screamed as I picked him up and threw him over to the other side of the room.
“I know it was you! You were in my pocket, Bob! You remember? When you asked me for that ‘lift’ back from the escape pod room. That’s… that’s when you must have taken it!”
“Mr. Joe, I did not… You see, I do not have any hands…”
I grabbed Bob again and squeezed him against my thumb.
“And just what were you doing in my room last night?”
“I… was delivering another transcript...”
“Imaginary transcripts I can’t see or hear, huh, yeah, nothing dodgy about that at all… totally not scrambling my brain, making me crazy…” I squeezed tighter.
“Please re…refrain from doing this,” Bob stammered.
“For Christ’s sake, you… You were INSIDE my body at one point, Bob. What have you been doing to me all this time?!”
“I was saving your life after you almost died from Operation Sofa Space, Mr. Joe. Don’t you remember?”
“All your faffing around before and during the quiz… That music I heard… I was the only one who heard it. You played it just for me, didn’t you! Just to make me freak out…”
“Mr. Joe…”
“The asteroid! You know about the asteroid don’t you? You even mentioned it this morning. The asteroid out there!” I pointed out of the window at the glowing white mass.
“There is an asteroid?” Bob asked with naïve curiosity.
“Yes, Bob! Don’t deny it! You namedropped it when I was listening to you and Emma because you knew, you fucking knew it would set me off didn’t you…”
“Where is this asteroid, Mr. Joe? I cannot see it. Perhaps you would like to help me look for it?”
“No, no…” I dropped Bob on the floor and closed my eyes. “I’m not playing any fucking games with you, Bob. I’ve had enough of those from X…”
“X? What is X?”
I laughed maniacally. “X is my imaginary friend. He’s been talking to me, you know. Trying to make me question what’s real. You’ve been doing the exact same thing!”
“Mr. Joe, I must confess, I am at a real loss here. Perhaps I can calm you down with a joke or two?”
“A joke?”
“Knock knock…”
“It’s you!” I yelled. My mouth widened. “You’re X, aren’t you, Bob? It’s… you!”
“Mr. Joe?”
“DON’T YOU ‘MR. JOE’ ME!” I yelled, kicking Bob into the side of the table. “You’ve been in my head all this time, haven’t you?!”
“M…Mister… J…Joe…”
“I’ve finally figured it out,” I mumbled. “I didn’t screw up the mission all those years ago. I saved us. From you!” I gasped.
“I do not follow.”
“Oh, don’t start with the whole ‘do not follow’ routine, you useless metal slab,” I ranted. “That whole conversation with Emma this morning, about what you really want? To keep this ship going in the same fucking direction for ever and ever until you find out what’s at the end of the universe or some shit? The little robot who wanted to see it all… pitting us feeble humans against each other to get his wish!”
“You’ve… got… it… wrong…”
“Well I’m through with all of this!” I raised my foot above Bob’s tiny, helpless body, ready to stomp him into oblivion. “One last chance, Bob…”
“Please…”
“Shut up and tell me where the coffee is.”
“Not possible…”
“What?”
“Cannot shut up and answer your question at the same time. Not possible… Can’t do it… Can’t…”
“Oh, what’s the matter? Can’t handle the logical contradictions again? Aw… too bad.” I smirked. “Come on… Where is the coffee?!”
“I don’t know!”
“I know you know…”
“I don’t! How can you know I know when I know I don’t know? Do not understand… Too many contradictions…”
“Well let’s try this… Hey Bob, you’re the cleverest on the ship.”
“Why thank you?!” Bob seemed confused.
“But I’m still cleverer than you,” I smirked.
“But you just said I was the… ohhhh… no… can’t handle… Do not want…” S
parks were starting to form around the edge of Bob’s exterior.
“Oh, boo hoo. Did your successful plan just fail?”
“But… how can a plan be a success and a failure at the same time? Uhh… Must stop… Must shut down… Must shut down…”
“Hey, Bob. I’m so sorry that I’m not sorry.” I raised my foot.
“No... more…” Bob gasped.
“STOP!”
I turned. It was Travis. Of course – I’d forgotten that he’d already left the kitchen before I’d locked the others in there.
“It’s him, Travis. Bob’s behind everything!” I exclaimed.
“You’ve got it all wrong!” Travis shouted. “I’m sorry I have to do this…” He had the knife in his hand. I hadn’t noticed but he must have taken it from the kitchen as he left.
“Don’t come any closer…” I warned.
“This has gone on long enough. I’m finishing it,” Travis said.
“Travis…”
Travis took a step forward, knife poised.
“Goodbye, Joe.”
18
“Get away from me!” I shouted, shuffling backwards with my hands in the air. “You win! I’ll leave Bob alone, I promise, I’m not going to do anything to…”
Travis was walking towards me, calmly, still firmly gripping the knife. I took one more step back before my leg twisted inwards. Not paying attention to where I had been stepping, my leg caught on something and I tripped, falling and hitting my back hard on the coffee table.
“No, please, come on, Travis. Don’t be like this…” I begged as I wriggled around, trying desperately to force myself back up – but Travis was still coming. His steps were slow but he was only a few feet away; there was no time to dodge his impending attack.
“No!” I screamed as my survival instincts crept in and I kicked Travis in the chest as hard as I could. It wasn’t enough - Travis turned, staring maliciously back at me, raising the knife. In my peripheral vision I realised the reason I’d tripped – a Travis-chair (how ironic!), overturned and just a few precious inches away from the table. As the knife came crashing down, I rolled over, grabbing the chair and hauling it across my body as a shield.
It wasn’t a very good shield. The knife ripped straight through the barely-secured seating fabric; the tip of the blade mere centimetres away from my face. I held on to both sides of the chair and pushed against Travis hard as I could.
“Don’t do this…” I pleaded, my breath becoming strained. Travis was silent, still staring menacingly and pushing against me with all his body weight. The knife was ripping through more of the fabric, closer and closer to my skin. I had no more strength to talk, focusing all my energy on holding off my attacker.
Luckily, even with all of his weight on top of me, Travis’ body was still comparatively weaker than mine. Before long, I felt his grip loosening, and used it as an opportunity to lash out, twisting the chair sideways and catching him in the cheek.
I jumped to my feet as Travis withdrew the knife and clutched his face in pain. Standing on top of the table, grasping the chair with its legs facing forwards, I realised I now had the upper hand. I screamed, jumping to the ground and swinging the chair from left to right.
“Back off!” I growled. The chair was heavier than I expected and the momentum of the swing made me twist involuntarily, catching me off-guard, but luckily Travis was still clutching his stinging cheek and didn’t use this as an opportunity to counter-attack. I brought the chair back around and got ready to charge forwards with it, but the force of the motion ended up ripping the fragile furniture in half, two whole chair legs falling pathetically to the floor.
“Bollocks…” I muttered under my breath. I supposed that was to be expected with the build quality of the stupid thing. Still, half a chair was better than no chair at all; I continued to swing it around, although Travis found his second-wind and started swiping at me with the knife. I blocked all of his attacks but before long another chair-leg had fallen to the floor and all I was left with was a collapsing mess of lightweight materials.
Shoving Travis into one of the empty bookshelves, I dropped the crumbling seat and bolted towards one of the common room exits. Yet again I found myself getting caught on something. What was it this time? It was soft and uneven, dragging on my foot rather than outright tripping me up. As I glanced down to see what it was, Travis grabbed another nearby chair and sent it hurtling across the floor in my direction. I dived out of the way and rolled over to kick him again, when I saw that stuck to my foot – the object that had been slowing me down, was Wiggy.
Kicking with the remains of a plush ginger wig attached to my foot probably wasn’t the best defence against a merciless knife-wielding lunatic, but it was all I could do. Instead of staying on my foot, the force of the kick sent Wiggy flying into my hand. As I stumbled to my feet and Travis lunged with the knife once again, Wiggy caught the full force of the blow and was sliced neatly in two. There was an awkward pause as Wiggy’s remains floated softly to the ground, which ended abruptly as I kneed Travis in the testicles and sprinted off into the corridor.
Panting heavily, I leaned against the corridor wall to catch my breath. I could hear Dom pounding on the kitchen door still.
“It’s a shame about Wiggy!” I yelled. “He had a bit of a problem with split ends!”
“Joe! Let us out! Let us out now! I’m going to kill you!” I’d never heard Dom this angry. Whether he intended to kill me or not, I didn’t think it would be a good idea for anyone else to get involved in the standoff between me and Travis. I smiled, watching the restrained kitchen door vibrate with the force of each of Dom’s knocks, before raising my arm to wipe my forehead.
Oh dear, there was blood dripping down my arm. This was another of those situations where you don’t realise the pain until you see the injury, and in this case, Travis had caught me just above my shoulder, and my arm was dripping in red. Luckily, the cut wasn’t very deep at all, but it hurt to move my arm, which was going to make it much harder to defend myself.
And defend myself I’d need to – there he was in front of me. With his injured cheek similarly bloody, Travis nevertheless continued to march wide-eyed and expressionless, the knife now tinted in red.
“We can work something out, can’t we, sonny?” I asked, half-laughing from the absurdity of the situation. Travis didn’t respond - there was no change in his expression but he did stop walking forwards. He held out his other arm and uncurled his palm. The lighter.
“Take it, then,” Travis said.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m giving you one last chance to redeem yourself,” Travis replied. “You know what you have to do.”
In all this commotion, the cigarette-cure was still safe in my pocket. I took a step forwards. My mouth was hanging open and my bloodied hand trembling. Travis stood statically, the knife in one hand, the lighter in the other. I took another step forward. Was this what it came down to? Would taking the cure right now really be enough to put this bad situation behind us?
“Your choice.” Travis spoke softly.
One more step. I was so close I could feel Travis’ breath on my face. He could fatally stab me at any moment. The entire ship was silent except for the constant background whirring and the occasional drip of blood. Even Dom had stopped banging on the kitchen door, perhaps sensing the tension. I was making eye contact with the young/old man’s tired, weary, yet piercingly focused eyes. My heart was beating faster than I thought possible. X was nowhere to be heard. This was just me and Travis. Two insane men. A lighter or a knife. Cure or death. All I had to do was choose.
“No,” I whispered. Travis frowned. In an instant, I moved to grab Travis’ knife-hand, knocking the lighter to the ground. Yelling in pain, I held on tightly, throwing the two of us around in the corridor, knocking over cables, slashing against the pipes and slicing through uncountable pieces of wire. I was trying to twist Travis’ hand back and disarm him; he was grabb
ing my face and desperately trying to hold me off. Somehow, even with his frailer body, Travis was persevering. We stumbled around, howling in pain and despair as the corridor gradually collapsed into a disintegrating mess of broken technology. Sparks were flying; smoke was billowing from a broken valve and lights were flickering all across the ship.
Dom was now attempting to break down the kitchen door, while Emma and Chloe were screaming at me to stop. It wasn’t going to work – that door was well and truly secured and it was too late for me to change my mind. I continued to fight with all of my pent-up aggression. I wasn’t taking any chances. Travis had tried to kill me, and he was still claiming I was the one who needed to be saved? Bullshit, I declared. There was only one way this could end, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
At last I managed to disarm Travis, the knife falling to the floor with a clank. Before he had a chance to bend down and pick it up, I had my arms around his neck.
“YOU DID THIS, NOT ME!” I yelled, shaking Travis like a doll.
“I gave you a choice,” Travis choked.
“NO! That wasn’t a choice!” I squeezed harder. “You guys have had it out for me since the beginning!” I kept throttling Travis. In a few seconds it would all be over. Travis’ eyes were rolling back in their sockets. Almost there…
“Gah!”
A ceiling rod dislodged and hit me across the face, forcing me to let go of my stranglehold. Travis coughed and wheezed violently as his breath returned to him, while I rolled onto my knees and crawled for the knife. I was too late, Travis had it in his hand once again, and I’d become disorientated by the rod – this wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.
Then it hit me – I knew exactly where I should go. Smirking, I turned and ran across the corridor. Travis had sensed it too, chasing after me as fast as he could despite his near-total asphyxiation. The panel window to the airlock room was just meters ahead. I dived across the square opening but my leg was caught; Travis slashed a huge cut across my exposed flesh just as I managed to pull it through.