Tom growled through clenched teeth. "It's the first dead gamer we've found lying around, all right?"
Biting his tongue, Jake watched Tom's face redden. They didn't need to talk about Thalia.
Clearing his throat, Tom continued, "Two, not only is it the first corpse we've seen, but it's the first pair of glasses we've found. Think about how many people wore glasses previously. Don't you think it's strange that we haven't found a single pair before now? Also, how are they even on his face? It's impossible to put a headset on without taking them off."
Looking down at the fat gamer, Jake suddenly realized just how blurry his vision was. "I want those glasses, Tom."
"Of course you do. They're banking on that. I'm sure the only thing that stopped them leaving a Christmas hamper with a pre-cooked turkey was the fact that they knew we'd share it. They had to leave a prize that we'd tear each other to pieces for. That's the sport of it."
The thought of roast turkey pulled at Jake's concave stomach, and the metallic taste of hunger lifted onto the back of his tongue. "So you're saying I shouldn't go for the glasses I found?"
"Jesus, Jake, you're not listening to me. I'm saying that neither of us should go and get them. We have no idea what they plan to do to us once we're in the crater, but I'd bet it ain't nice."
"They might only want to entice us into playing New Reality. But I don't want the headset. I want the glasses." After throwing an angry finger at his friend, he said, "Besides, it's easy for you to say we should leave them, you have nothing to lose. Those glasses are rightfully mine."
Before Tom could reply, Jake added, "Maybe he died of natural causes and the headset fell away."
"Natural causes? I wouldn't call filling someone with so much sugary sludge they die from heart disease 'natural causes.' And, ignoring the fact that you can't wear a headset and glasses at the same time, like I just said, if he has died on his own, why haven't they collected the headset? I've not known them to hang around in the past."
"Maybe he's only just died."
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Maybe."
"Don't patronize me, Tom."
"You make that hard. Besides, we're talking in circles and it's tiresome."
"So if they want us dead, why don't they send a Bot to take us out?"
"Because they don't want blood on their hands. Directly at least. It would be nice to have a reason to kill us; that way they could rebuild the world and convince themselves it isn't built on the death of millions. All the fat gamers die of heart disease and the nuisances like us die from tragic 'accidents.'" Tom threw air quotes with his fingers.
Jake's entire body leaned towards the crater. The dark glasses wedged on the bloated corpse's fat head were calling to him. "I saw those glasses first, so I'm taking them."
"You're going to risk your life for a pair of sunglasses?"
Jake looked at the crow's feet that radiated from Tom's bloodshot eyes. They spread halfway around his head. He looked at the flecks of blue that hinted at his once colorful irises. Years of dust storms had diluted them to nothing. "Yep. They ain't just sunglasses. They're sight! I don't want to be blind in a couple of years' time."
"Don't you remember what happened last time? With Thalia?" He couldn't say her name without his mouth buckling and his voice wavering.
"I do." The scar tissue ached on the back of Jake's triceps, aggravated by the memory. "I took a bullet for you so you could do what you had to do. I stood by you when all I wanted was to run." He looked at Tom. "And I paid the price for it."
The long man's tense frame sagged.
Lifting one of Tom's long and cold hands in both of his, Jake said, "All I'm asking you to do is keep a look out for me. You don't have to put yourself in the firing line like I did. Just warn me if a Bot's coming." When Tom neither agreed nor disagreed, Jake patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks." He then plunged into the crater.
###
Thrusting his arms out for balance, Jake rode the landscape as the debris slipped beneath his feet. The rush of rocks sounded like gushing water.
Something caught Jake's eyes, but he was traveling too fast to see what it was. It wasn't a Bot, of that he was sure. His breath ran away from him. It must be them.
Hitting the level ground, Jake fell to the floor, a sharp pain running from his kneecaps, up his thighs, and into his stomach. Gasping, he took three deep breaths, scrambled to his feet, and moved on. No time to wait. Even if the Bots weren't coming, the things almost certainly were.
As he headed for the gamer, Jake turned to see Tom looking in the direction where he'd just seen movement. Had he seen them too? Would he say something if he had? He said he didn't believe they existed. Surely that was a lie. How could he not have heard them at night? How could he not have seen the shifting shadows? How could he not have felt them watching? He believed in them as much as Jake did, he was just too scared to admit it.
In Jake's mind, they were salivating, stinking human mutations that craved blood--horrors born of this toxic world. A shudder rattled through him. Whatever they were, they were getting braver, and it wouldn't be long before they revealed themselves.
Maybe they took the corpses away. The gamer's died, the headsets fell off, then they showed up to remove the body and feed on them. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his legs, Jake pushed forward. The glasses were his.
The ground shifted beneath his feet, sapping his strength with every stride. He moved as quickly as he could. Too fast and he'd break an ankle. Too slow and he'd lose his prize and maybe his life.
Although the crater acted as a wind block, he still had to dip his head to avoid being blinded by grit. Squinting as he looked up, he focused on the naked gamer's glasses. Lying there with the grey skin of a waxwork, the gamer was spread across the uneven terrain. The nipples on his flabby chest rested on each arm.
When Jake looked over his shoulder, Tom tapped an imaginary watch on his wrist.
Like he didn't know time was short. Idiot. As Jake dropped down next to the gamer, his raw joints screamed like they were filled with sand.
The stink of shit hit him, and a slow heave rolled through his gut. All the gamers smelled the same when you got too close. Constant exposure to the gassy smell of decomposition had desensitized him to it. He didn't want to get so well acquainted with the smell of human excrement.
Looking around again, Jake saw nothing. What were the things waiting for? When he tugged the glasses, they came free easily, almost as if they'd only just been placed there. Jake looked around again. The acrid stench of shit sent another heave through his stomach. Standing up, he stepped back.
Putting the glasses on, Jake saw clearly. Shouldn't they be scratched? Maybe they'd been protected by the headset for the entire time. Maybe Tom was wrong.
Having worn a permanent squint for the past few years, Jake couldn't relax his face behind the protection of the lenses. That would take time.
With his eyes shielded, Jake saw farther into the storm than he'd ever managed to before. Although it wasn't far enough to reveal much more of his world. Imagining a Bot bursting through the clouds of dirt, Gatling guns trained on him, Jake covered his heart in an attempt to slow it down.
But he hadn't done anything wrong. He had to remember that. They had no reason to kill him. They'd looted from gamers before and been fine. It was interfering with the headsets that Rixon got uptight about. The other things? He didn't know what pushed their buttons. Just the thought of them made his stomach clench like a fist around a light bulb.
It made Jake jump when Tom called down, "Hurry up!" His voice was both muffled by the wind and the tight scarf tied across his mouth.
Something moved in Jake's peripheral vision. Something languid and dark. Then it was gone. Stepping towards his friend, Jake stopped again.
"Jake! For fuck's sake, man. Hurry the fuck up!"
Tom didn't swear often, but it wasn't often that Jake found a discarded headset. There was a white teardrop of synthesized sludge hanging
from the food tube. Staring at it, pregnant with sustenance, Jake's arid mouth started to water, and his dry tongue lifted involuntarily. He jumped when Tom called again, "Jake!"
"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 quive
r 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.
New Reality: Truth Page 2