New Reality: Truth

by Michael Robertson

  "What's that got to do with the things following us?"

  "Your plan has everything to do with everything. It's our reason for being."

  "First of all, Mr. Ed, do you have a better plan?" When Tom didn't reply, Jake continued, "The idea was to--"

  "I know what the idea was, but it hasn't worked, has it?"

  Grinding his jaw, the popping of the grit in between his teeth amplifying through his skull, Jake showed his friend his palm. "Hang on a minute, we decided together that we'd do that. We need to stay in Birmingham, remember?"

  Tom dropped his head in an impatient nod.

  "And we only have one consistent landmark to get our bearings from."

  Tom nodded again.

  "The reason we need to stay in Birmingham is because we think Rory's still here, correct?"

  "Think? What do you mean 'think'?"

  "Sorry, Rory's in Birmingham."

  For the first time in the past day, the tension fell from Tom's face. "Do you think he's been swallowed by one of the sinkholes?"

  Suddenly Jake saw the truth of Tom's anxiety. He shook his head. "No."

  "How can you be so sure?" Tom's skin had turned pale.

  "I can't, but I think Rory's out there, alive and well."

  "And what if he's not?"

  Stepping closer to Tom, Jake grabbed his calloused hands and looked into his foggy eyes. "I read a book once called Man's Search for Meaning. It was by a Jew who survived the holocaust in a prisoner of war camp."

  "What's that got to do with my son?"

  "The man was a psychiatrist. The book was his assessment of what he believed to be the reason that some people survived in the camps while others didn't."

  Throwing a shrug, Tom said, "And?"

  "Meaning."

  Tom stared at Jake.

  "Those who had meaning in their life--a reason to exist--were the ones who survived."

  "And Rory's my meaning?"

  "Exactly. The only fact we currently have is that we haven't seen his corpse."

  When Tom flinched, Jake raised an apologetic hand. "Sorry, but it's true. The only thing we can assume is that he's still alive because we have no evidence to the contrary."

  Looking back over to the tower on the horizon, Tom ground his jaw. "I want to make that assumption. More than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life." Sighing, Tom continued to stare into the distance.

  Moving close to his friend, Jake put his hand on his slumped back. "Believe it then. Reality is a choice. Choose your reality."

  The silence lasted for a good few minutes before Jake finally said, "So we're looking for a Birmingham City football shirt, yeah?"

  Tom was still frowning when he looked up at his friend. Then it lifted and he snorted a laugh. "Piss off."

  Grinning, Jake threw his arms wide and the wind smashed into him. Finding his balance, grimacing from the pain in his legs, he shrugged. "I thought you were Birmingham through and through?"

  A smile raised one side of Tom's mouth. It was nice to see. "There's only one team in Birmingham, Jake, and it isn't City. And before you say it, it ain't West Brom either!" Looking away again, he sighed. "I suppose none of that's important anymore though. Football used to be a religion for me," he squinted as he looked at the tower, "before all of this."

  Refusing to let his friend forget his purpose, Jake said, "So we're looking for red hair?"

  "You know what we're looking for. Stop being an idiot."

  "And he has a cleft palette?"

  Pushing the loose strands of hair from his eyes, Tom didn't reply.

  "He's wearing one of your old Aston Villa shirts?"

  "And he's going to be about seventeen now." Tom's voice wavered. "Seventeen!" When he looked at the tower again, his eyes welled up. "It's been a year since we've seen him and four since he put that bloody headset on!" He stared at the floor. "Four years is a long time." Looking at the tower again, he shook his head. "Why didn't they leave us alone when we were with them last? They're my family, not the property of Rixon International Limited. Arseholes. Sometimes I wish we'd stayed where we were."

  "We would have died if we didn't run, Tom."

  Tom regarded Jake with lifeless eyes. He was clearly aware of that fact.

  Moving closer, his rusty joints screaming a burning protest, Jake clenched his jaw against the pain and dropped an arm over his friend's shoulder. When he gave him a soft squeeze, Tom's bottom lip pushed out.

  "Come on, man," Jake said. "Let's keep moving."

  ***

  Staring at Jake as he hobbled off, leading his friend on, she ran her tongue over her cracked lips. Why did he have to be so kind to his friend? What she had to do would be so much easier if Jake was a dick.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman's large body was spread over the rocky ground like fresh dough. She was naked save for a small shred of what looked like the remains of a woolen jumper clinging to her wrist. Varicose veins pooled in her arms and her skin was pale.

  Looking up, Jake scratched his beard as he scanned the surrounding storm for Bots. There were none. "Have you noticed how there are so many less gamers about now? I swear there were ten times as many only a few months ago."

  Without replying, Tom also scanned their surroundings.

  "Tom?"

  There was a distant look to the man as he said, "Why are we helping them? They're in a better state than we are."

  "At least we're conscious."

  "Exactly! They're far better off. They say ignorance is bliss, New Reality makes that statement truer than ever. Ignorance is heaven now." He shook his head. "I can't keep spending what little energy I have making the lives of these idiots better."

  The woman they were stood over was in her late thirties to early forties. The only thing Jake could be certain of when it came to her physical health was that she was still breathing. Watching her chest rise and fall, he scratched his head. "What else can we do?"

  Turning on his friend, Tom's eyes lit up. "Let's try and take her headset off."

  When Jake's mouth fell open, he felt grateful for the scarf. If it weren't for that, he'd be funneling grit. Staring at his friend, he couldn't find the words to reply.

  Tom shrugged. "So we know how to do it when we find Rory."

  "But that might kill her."

  "Rather her than my son."

  The logic made sense. Kneeling down next to the gamer, Jake looked closely at the headset. Rolls of doughy fat belched from beneath it. The device looked like it had fused to the top half of her head. "How do you think we can get it off?"

  "We could just rip it off."

  "Rip it off?" The thought made Jake's already weak legs wobble. "That would kill her." When Jake looked up at his tall friend, he was met with a cold stare. Although Tom hated talking about Thalia, Jake felt like he'd have to remind him what happened.

  After looking behind them again, Tom shoved the woman's fat arm with his boot. "It'd put the bitch out of her misery."

  "You do realize what you're saying, right?"

  "Of course I realize." He pointed down at the woman. "Look at her, Jake, she's fucked anyway."

  "What's wrong with you, Tom? Why would you want to kill an innocent person? Where's this coming from? This isn't you. Also," Jake pointed at the Rixon Tower on the horizon, "have you forgotten about our corporate overlords?"

  Without replying, Tom looked behind again. Biting down on a fingernail, he continued to throw glances out in random directions. "We got away with it once before. Besides, would it really matter if she died? We'd probably be doing her a favor. Speed things up for her."

  "What if you're wrong about Rixon? What if they're not interfering with everything we do in this world? Besides, what has this woman ever done to you?"

  Tom didn't reply.

  Kneeling down next to the woman, Jake lifted one of her heavy arms and arranged it so it covered an exposed nipple on a saggy breast. The touch of her cold and waxy skin made him shudder. It was like mov
ing a corpse.

  Watching her large chest swell and subside with her breathing, the heavy, phlegmy death rattle sounding like it could stop at any moment, Jake wondered if Tom was right? Should they leave her be? She clearly didn't have long left. When Tom barked his question, it made Jake jump.

  "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  "Shall we do it?"

  "Do I really need to spell it out? No! Absolutely not. I'm not a murderer."

  Screwing his face up, Jake could see the sneer even beneath Tom's scarf. "But we are though, aren't we?"

  "We didn't mean to kill Thalia. That wasn't murder. Not like you're suggesting now."

  Tom fell silent again and continued his search of their surroundings.

  Planting his feet, Jake buried his hands into her side as he gave her a hard shove. Grunting from the effort, he looked up at his disgruntled friend. "I need your help, Tom."

  "Let's just leave her."

  Standing up, his entire body popping, cracking and creaking in protest, Jake put his hands on his skinny hips. "What the hell's going on with you? What's all this bullshit about killing her? What's wrong with you today?"

  It was only when Tom looked behind yet again that the light switched on in Jake's head. Clicking his fingers, he pointed at him. "You think it'll slow them down, don't you? You want to leave her as an offering."

  Unable to hold eye contact, Tom looked at the floor. "No."

  "You do. You want to leave her for them to feed on so we can get farther away."

  "Well it might work."

  Dipping his head to get eye contact with Tom, Jake reached out and gave the top of Tom's skinny arm a squeeze. "Just tell me what you saw."

  There was no reply.

  "What if something happens to you? I need to know what I'm up against so I can defend myself."

  A glaze washed over Tom's face. Behind it was chaos. He wasn't letting Jake in.

  Clapping his hands did little to snap his friend out of it, but Jake continued anyway. "Right, so we've decided that we're not going to kill her."

  "You've decided that."

  "Yes, I have. Now make yourself useful and help me."

  "You do realize that you're probably not even helping, don't you?"

  "You've already told me that turning them over is better than leaving them lying still. That's what they do in the hospitals, right?"

  "Did, Jake. Did."

  "Whatever. Stop trying to get out of it and help me." Rolling his eyes, Jake dropped into a hunch and waited for Tom to squat down next to him.

  When the tall man finally moved into place, Jake smiled. "See, there's a heart in there somewhere."

  "It's not about kindness. I don't help because of self-preservation. Why are we wasting energy on this fat slug? She decided to put the headset on."

  "She's still a person."

  "She's got all the sustenance she needs, and we're living like rats."

  "Then why are you helping?"

  Tom looked at the floor. "If Rory's still out there, and if there are other people like us, I hope they're doing the same. I hope someone like you has passed him and taken an interest in his welfare."

  Nodding, Jake said, "Karma."

  "I believe in science, Jake. I'm not a nutter."

  Jake laughed. They'd had the conversation too many times to repeat it.

  Positioning himself so he was ready to push, Tom groaned from the effort of crouching down.

  "Right--three, two, one, go."

  When Jake shoved her, the muscles in his back set alight and his head pulsed as if it was going to explode. With his feet scrabbling for positioning, and his injured legs screaming for him to stop, he looked at the gap between her back and the ground, desperate for any sign that they were making progress. "Come on, Tom. We can do this."

  It was obvious that his friend didn't share his optimism.

  "Imagine she's Rory."

  The comment seemed to enrage the man, who growled as he pushed hard into her.

  Seizing the opportunity, Jake put everything he had into it. Slowly, the large woman lifted from the ground a centimeter at a time.

  The progress was steady until she neared her tipping point. With his hands sinking into her fat arm, sweat running down his forehead and his vision swimming, Jake fought his shaking muscles and dug deep. If he dropped her now, she was never coming back up again.

  When the sharp tang of excrement hit him, Jake looked down at the viscous paste rolling down her back and tried to breathe through his mouth.

  Gritting his teeth and shoving harder than before, they got the woman past her balance point and she fell away from them. Knowing what was coming, Jake mirrored Tom in stepping away from her and pushed the sunglasses up his sweaty nose.

  When Tom shrieked, Jake looked at her exposed back. Hot saliva gushed down his throat as he stumbled backwards. Unable to look away, he stood limp-jawed and stared at it.

  ***

  Her stomach bucked. What the hell? Turning away did nothing to banish the image that was now burned in her mind's eye. How did she get in that state? It wasn't often that she felt inclined to agree with Tom, but killing her probably would be for the best.

  Chapter Eleven

  The pressure sore was so big it stretched all the way across her sizable lower back. Dark red and glistening with puss and shit, it wept out across her skin. It ran so deep that Jake peered in to see if he could see bone, but after a few seconds, he had to turn away.

  Several deep breaths did nothing to calm the nausea rolling through his guts, instead, it filled his sinuses with the smell of excrement and rotting flesh. Not even the fierce wind could dilute the rancid kick. Turning to face the tower, Jake put all of his attention on trying to settle his stomach.

  Tom walked around in front of Jake. "There's nothing we can do for this one. The sore's too bad."

  "Is there really nothing?"

  With a thick frown, Tom threw his hands up. "What do you want from me? It needs to be cleaned. She needs bedside care. We can't do that."

  Looking back at the glistening wound, the grime of the world sticking to it and quickly turning it matt, Jake shook his head. "She's in such a bad way though."

  "Exactly! What hope do we have of helping her? We don't even have clean water." Raising his voice, Tom looked at the tower. "They could do something about it. All they'd need to do is get one of their Bots to keep it clean."

  Searching his friend's face, Jake put a hand on his slim shoulder. "Is this about them?"

  "Them?"

  "The things following us. The things you want to leave a dead body for."

  Straightening his back, Tom gave a sharp shake of his head. "No. It's the truth. To treat this sore, you need a sterile environment. Look at it, Jake."

  When Jake looked back, the angry red wound throbbed. Was it a trick of his exhausted imagination, or was it really happening?

  "It also needs time and constant attention to give it a chance to heal."

  When Jake frowned, Tom said, "I was a paramedic you know. I know what I'm talking about."

  Jake gave a heavy sigh. "How long does she have left?"

  "Dunno. The only thing I can say for sure is that there's nothing we can do in our current predicament to help her." Before he'd finished the sentence, Tom was looking back in the direction they'd come from. Clapping his hands together, he said, "Right, let's go."

  It wasn't that he didn't trust his friend in this instance, he seemed genuine, but something kept Jake's feet rooted to the floor. Then he saw it.

  Closing the distance between him and the woman, Jake crouched down next to her.

  "Jake, I told you, there's nothing we can do." Bouncing on the spot, Tom looked behind again. "Come on, let's go."

  Leaning down so the gash was less than a meter from his face, Jake held his breath. The ground glistened where the sore had wept into the rubble. Wincing as he stretched his arm out, he lifted a particularly slimy and shit-covered brick.

 
"What the hell are you doing?"

  Revulsion washed through him and his grip weakened, but not to the point where he dropped the brick. Flinging it to one side, he picked up the next lump of rubble. It was slipperier than the last, but he moved it aside to reveal the prize. Looking over at Tom, he pointed into the hole. "Coke, Tom, a full can of Coke."

  The can was so slimy with secretions it was like lifting a wet bar of soap. Thinking he had a good grip on it, Jake stood up and it slipped from his grasp.

  As he watched it spin through the air, seemingly moving in slow motion, Jake flinched. The can hit the ground, but there was no expected fizz of escaping liquid. Picking it back up, Jake wiped it on his trousers and walked over to Tom. "Want some?"

  Staring at the can, Tom screwed his long nose up like he was close to violence. "What's wrong with you? It's been sat in her pus for God knows how long. There's no way I'm drinking that."

  Shrugging, Jake tapped the top of the can. "More for me then." He popped it open and was surprised to hear the hiss of carbonation. After lifting his scarf up, he raised the glistening can to his mouth. All the while, he could feel Tom's penetrative stare. Just as it was about to touch his lips, his throat lifted from the inside, rejecting the liquid before he'd even tasted it. "Damn it!" Throwing the can away, he watched the black liquid seep out. "Damn it!"

  When Jake looked at Tom, he was met with a tight-lipped smile. "Not that thirsty then, eh?"

  "Fuck off, Tom." Swallowing against the dry and gritty lump in his throat, he said, "Anyway, we drank yesterday, I'm sure we'll find something else soon." The look on Tom's smug face made him want to swing for him, so he looked away, staring into the small hole he'd dug next to the woman.

  What he saw made him instantly forget his frustration. "Oh, my God, Tom. Oh, my God." Before Tom could reply, Jake was next to the woman again, throwing lumps of rubble to the side and digging a bigger hole.

  ###

  It took about an hour, but by the time Jake had finished, he'd cleared a patch that was about three meters square, and sweat was gushing off him. His previously sore muscles ached again, his shoulders burned from the exertion, and the grit on the wind was sticking to his sweating face. But it was worth every drop of pain and discomfort. Staring back at him from the hole he'd created was a bent and buckled vending machine. It had taken a battering that had clearly spoiled a lot of its contents, but there was still plenty left for them. Pulling his fringe from his forehead, the grit on the wind tapping his glasses, Jake nodded into the hole. "See, Tom, this is our reward for looking after all of those poor gamers. Stick that in your scientific pipe and smoke it."