The clang of the rock hitting the electricity pylon made the fox look up, its ears pricked. For the briefest moment, Jake and the fox stared at each other. The golden eyes of the mangy creature were wide but not petrified. It was almost as if the fox was assessing the threat posed to him by these two weak men. The fox then jogged away from them in the opposite direction.
When Jake turned around, he saw Tom looking at him.
"That was close, Jake."
"All right."
"I'm being serious. The fox only needed to be about thirty times its size, and you'd have scored a bull's eye. Well done."
Glaring at Tom, Jake showed him his raised middle finger.
Shielding his brow, Tom scanned their horizon. "The view from every hill looks exactly the same. More concrete, more rubble, more metal."
"That's why I'm going to leave this crap city when I get the chance. There has to be something else out there."
"You hope."
"All right, Tom. I know you're ready to go, but there's no need to piss on my fireworks. In five days time, you can have your wish. Until then, give me some happy memories to keep me going, yeah?"
Shaking his head, Jake then said, "Come on, let's keep moving." Patting Tom on the back, a little harder than he hoped because he had less control over his weaker left hand, Jake's stomach sank as he watched his friend stumble.
Everything moved in slow motion. First Tom wobbled, his arms windmilling. Then he took several steps down the hill, each one longer than the last, each one less stable. When his legs crumpled beneath him, his body headed towards the floor.
Wincing as Tom connected with the pylon at the bottom, Jake first heard a loud crack and then a throat-tearing scream.
***
Surely this was it. There was no way he was getting up from that. Rubbing her hands together, she closed her sore eyes and whispered, "Please let this be the end of him. Jake deserves a chance without me having to kill him. Please give up, Tom. Please."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rushing down the hill, riding the landslide as best he could, Jake skidded to a halt next to his best friend. "Shit, Tom! Are you okay? I'm so sorry."
Tom's usually pallid face was purple. Clenching his jaw, he clung onto his hip and screamed through his gritted teeth.
Losing his pulse, Jake could feel his lungs tightening. "Tom, what's going on, man? Are you okay? Talk to me."
Taking heavy breaths, Tom forced his words out, grunting between each one. "Does. It. Look. Like..." When he paused, his facial muscles writhed like a bag of snakes. "...I'm okay?"
Looking Tom up and down as if searching his form would reveal how to fix his friend, Jake's eyes stopped on Tom's hip and his hand holding it. It was yet another question that he didn't want an answer to. "It's broken, isn't it?"
A strange calm came over Tom as he grunted and lowered his eyes. "I think so, yes."
Leaning over, Jake wiped Tom's thick hair away from his sweating brow and offered a single, ineffective word. "Sorry."
***
She wasn't sorry. She was about as far from sorry as she could be. Watching Tom as he lay on the floor, fighting against his pain, she leaned back, relaxing into her posture. "At last!"
Chapter Twenty-Eight
To stand by and watch his friend writhing on the floor as if he were possessed was hard enough for Jake, knowing that he was the reason for his pain was torture. Holding Tom's large and bony hand, he watched him contort in ways he thought were beyond the physical capabilities of the exhausted man.
Other than an apology, Jake had nothing to offer. Sat next to his friend, occasionally stroking his face and offering words of comfort, he watched Tom slip into states of delirium that he wasn't sure he'd ever pull out of.
All the while, the raised line of rubble sat about ten meters away, moving steadily closer with each passing hour.
###
Hours passed, and all Tom did was groan and writhe, his eyes rolling in his head. When they suddenly focused, Jake jumped. The stark lucidity staring up at him made his spine tingle. Frozen as he stared at him for a second, Jake snapped out of it, leaned over, and wiped Tom's sweating brow.
Speaking in a pitch that was somewhere between a growl and a cough, Tom said, "It hurts so much."
The heavy throb that ran through Jake's hand seemed like no more than a surface scratch in comparison to Tom's injury. Stroking Tom's white hair away from his face, Jake leaned over his friend. "It'll be okay, mate." He could hear the lack of belief in his assertion. Doing the only other thing he could, he removed his glasses and slid them over Tom's grey eyes.
Squinting as his face was peppered with fine grit, Jake watched Tom turn to face him. Touching the glasses, Tom coughed and forced his words out. "I can't take these from you."
"It's the least I can do. It's my fault you're in this state. We'll get you sorted out, don't worry."
A pang ran through Jake's heart as he watched Tom's head fall to the side. How long would it be before he lost consciousness for good?
The sound of shifting rubble caught Jake's attention. Looking up, he saw that the distance between him and whatever was following them had halved. It was a good job Tom was passed out; the last thing he needed was an awareness of that thing.
Getting to his feet, Jake picked up a brick. Letting its weight settle in his left hand, he yelled and lobbed it in the direction of the rubble.
The thing shifted back.
Picking up another brick, he did exactly the same, driving it back farther. "Now fuck off! I don't know what you want from us, but you ain't fucking getting it."
Finding a glass bottle, he then shouted to the point where his throat felt like it was tearing. "Fuck off!"
The bottle was the best shot of all, scoring a direct hit on the rubble.
The creature's hiss rose above the sound of shattering glass.
Standing in the wind, his face stinging, Jake watched their stalker speed away from them. It travelled so quickly it was out of his view within seconds.
Remaining on his feet, he studied the horizon for signs of its return.
###
The sky had turned from gunmetal grey to black, making the hazy glow of the Rixon Tower more prominent for the reduction in light. Having kept a keen watch for the entire time, Jake was yet to see the thing return. Maybe it was more scared of them than they were of it. Maybe it had gone to get backup.
After hours of holding Tom's hand as he writhed in agony, Jake suddenly felt his friend's grip go limp. Watching the tall man roll over onto his side, Jake gasped when he stopped still. "Oh, fuck."
Just before Jake could check his pulse, Tom twitched. Although he could see his scarf moving, it was impossible to hear what Tom was saying over the loud wind. Leaning so close to his mouth he could smell his friend's stagnant breath, Jake listened to his gentle whisper. "Can you get that for me please, Jake?"
Looking around, all Jake saw was rubbish. Not knowing how to respond, he remained silent.
Raising a shaky hand, Tom pointed at a pile of rubble.
Looking again, Jake saw bricks, old food wrappers, plastic bottles, and carrier bags. Turning back to his friend, he shrugged. "What is it, Tom? What do you want?" He leaned close again to hear his reply.
"The ears."
Nestled in a crack in the ground between several large lumps of reinforced concrete was a black sphere made from toughened foam with two mouse ears. It was no bigger than a ping-pong ball and was the symbol of a corporate giant that, despite its prominence in the old world, was just a memory in the new one. The company that it represented was once so powerful they tried to buy Rixon. They failed, which Jake was grateful for. Seeing the tower every day was sickening, but having two huge fucking ears on the horizon would have made him suicidal. When the attempted buyout failed, they did everything they could to compete with Rixon, but it was too late by then. Their technology was several years behind the German giant, so by the time the mouse had caught up, ther
e were no consumers left. Everyone was hooked on New Reality.
Jake's muscles burned when he stood up. Stepping over the tall man, the wind threatening to knock his weak frame over, he made his way to the ears.
Once he'd picked them up, Jake held them in a pinch in his left hand and examined them. It was strange that people had ever parted with their hard-earned money for such a useless item. The cost of it would have fed someone for a day in an impoverished nation. Jake's concave stomach rumbled at the thought of food.
Flipping the ears over, Jake looked at the hole in the bottom. It looked like it was designed to push a pen into. Shrugging, he walked back over to Tom and gave them to him.
The tall man's scarf lifted as if he were smiling beneath it. It was so much harder to read his expression now both his eyes and mouth were covered.
Several heavy coughs flipped Tom's body. Groaning, he looked back at his trinket. "We used to have one of these ..." he stopped to breathe, "...on the aerial of our car." Grief cracked his words. "Rory bought it."
"Of course," Jake said. "That's why I recognize them." A sudden pain ran from his infected hand all the way up his arm. Dragging air through clenched teeth, Jake bent forwards, the burn balling in his shoulder. How long would it be before it ran directly to his heart?
Oblivious to Jake's suffering, Tom dusted the ears off and continued smiling. A tear ran from beneath his glasses.
Leaning over again, Jake used his left hand to rub Tom's shoulder and stared down at his friend.
After several breaths, Tom cleared his throat. "Rory ..." Breaking down, he pulled the mouse ears into his chest.
Keeping his hand on Tom, Jake waited for him to speak again.
"He said he was going to use the headset ..." breathe, "...to take him to Disney World. We'd never been." Several gulps later and Tom spoke with a weak voice. "He was desperate to go."
As Tom broke into another coughing fit, Jake could see he was tempering his hacking barks. The action was clearly jarring his hip.
"He was so excited, Jake." Shaking his head, Tom growled, "Then he put a fucking headset on."
Jake didn't reply.
"I knew it was a bad idea the second the straps closed around the back of his head, but it was too late by then."
"It was horrible to watch people put the headsets on," Jake agreed. His vision glazed as he relived the experience. "I remember the initial hit, or 'the set-up process' as Rixon called it, and how the users fell twitching to the floor. It was like watching people overdose on heroin. It's a wonder so many people still put a headset on after witnessing that." Sighing, the grit on the air still stinging his eyes, Jake looked at the Rixon Tower.
Tom's voice broke when he said, "I shouldn't have let them put the headsets on at the same time, but they were so excited about the prospect and wanted to do it together. I lost them both in one hit. Rixon have taken everything from me."
"We'll find him, Tom, and we'll find a way to get the headset off."
When Tom lifted his glasses, Jake saw the light had left his eyes. "Like we did his mother you mean? Do I need to remind you we killed her? Every time I close my eyes, I see the image of her head bleeding into the rock."
"There must be a way to do it."
"If there is, we haven't found it. This is the end of the road for me, Jake." Resting his head against a slab of concrete, he stared up at the grey sky. "Besides, even if we do find him, what will happen? I'll roll him over to ease his pressure sores?" Tom laughed, wincing again at the pain of movement. "Or rather," he paused to catch his breath, "I'll watch you roll him over. Or try to roll him over. He's probably huge by now and you only have one good hand. We're a pair of useless cripples, Jake."
Jake remained mute.
"We'll then spend days trying to work out a way to get his headset off." Snapping his body tight, Tom's face reddened as he groaned again. "We'll be lucky if we don't die of thirst while we're waiting, or get shot." After a pause, he added, "Or get eaten by that horrible clickety-click thing."
Desperate to look behind him, Jake fought the urge. "We'll get the headset off, Tom."
"Let's say we do--" Letting out a sudden scream, Tom flipped onto his side.
Once he'd recovered, he lay there panting. "Then what? He'll be a slug and we'll have to spend the next few months, maybe years, running through physio with him. He won't be able to walk." Grunting again, his red face turned beetroot and he took shallow breaths. "None of his muscles will work, so we'll have to feed him and keep him hydrated. We can barely do that for ourselves."
Jake wished he had something to say.
"I realized months ago that it was too late for Rory." He coughed. "I've thought about it during every waking moment, and I know there's nothing I can do for him. I don't know why I've kept going."
"Because some part of you believes. It must do."
Shaking his head, Tom said, "No. I don't think that's it." The tall man then fell silent and his head lolled to the side.
After a minute or so had passed, Jake nudged him.
Tom continued as if he hadn't paused at all. "I think it's because I wanted to make amends for leaving him." Staring at the sky, he added, "Twice."
"You had to leave him. You had to find a way to take the headset off. They would have shot us if we'd gone back a second time."
"I should have been realistic. I should have just put a bloody headset on years ago." Reaching up, he grabbed Jake's left hand. "I'm done, Jake."
A wash of hot grief flushed Jake's face. "No, Tom."
Squeezing Jake's hand, Tom looked up. "Please just get me a headset."
With his bottom lip bending out of shape and heat stinging his eyeballs, Jake kept a hold of his friend's hand but looked away.
"I can't even walk, Jake."
Drawing a stuttered breath, Jake turned back to Tom. Staring at his broken form for a short time, he then dropped a gentle nod. "Okay."
***
Speaking in a low murmur, she clasped her hands before her. "Good boy, Jake."
With a grin stretching wide on her face, she sat back and watched Jake get to his feet. Finally! They were going to separate.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The slight rise and fall of Tom's chest was the only sign he was still of this world. Other than the occasional groan and whimper, Tom had been virtually inanimate all night.
"It's morning now, mate," Jake said. "Sorry I haven't left sooner, but you know what it's like traveling at night. I'll find you a headset, pal, just hang on in there."
Grabbing the cold pylon with his left hand, Jake's arms shook as he pulled himself to his feet. The effort increased his heart rate. The throb in his palm reminded him of his infection.
Keeping a hold of the metal structure, Jake adjusted to the onslaught of the wind, the deafening gales wrapping his head in blusterous chaos. Turning around, he searched behind. There was still no sign of the thing following them. Where had it gone?
Looking down at his tall friend, Jake sighed. "See you later, mate." He then ducked through a gap in the metal skeleton, every muscle in his malnourished body screaming in burning protest.
Straightening his back once he was through the other side, Jake groaned as a series of clicks ran down his spine.
Filling his lungs as best as he could through the scarf covering his mouth, he rolled his shoulders and tried to block out the pulse in his palm. The angry throb sent shards of electric pain into his wrist.
Shaking the thought from his mind, he looked one last time for the line of rubble that had been following them. There was nothing there at present.
Facing the fierce wind, he dipped his head into it and began his wobbly ascent out of the valley.
###
With nothing to pull himself up by and what little energy he had draining from his legs, it took Jake about fifteen minutes to shuffle halfway up the hill. Stopping, he pulled shallow breaths into his tight lungs. The effort made stars swim in his vision.
A mixture
of grit and perspiration stung his eyes. Wiping his brow, he searched the valley floor for signs of raised rubble. Nothing. It would have been foolish to believe the thing had gone. Jake shook his head. "Just bloody show yourself."
When he saw Tom writhe with palsied movement, a frown darkened Jake's view. How far would he have to walk to find a headset? What if he didn't find one at all? There would come a point where turning back wouldn't make sense. How long would it be before he wrote his best friend off? What if the thing--?
Something caught Jake's eye. A line of raised rubble. It raced towards Tom, kicking up bricks and stones as it sped across the wasteland. Grabbing the bottom half of his face with both hands, Jake chewed the inside of his mouth. "Oh, no. Fuck, no!"
With his pulse racing, Jake searched his surroundings for something that could help Tom. There was nothing useful. Looking back up, he saw the thing wasn't stopping.
"Tom!" he cried. His word was carried away on the strong wind like an empty crisp packet.
"Tom!" The shouting hurt his dusty throat. Swallowing a muddy gulp did nothing to relieve it.
Bending down, his body aching, he picked up a rock. Maybe the clanging metal would alert his friend. Putting everything he had into it, he yelled as he lobbed the projectile at the pylon. It fell woefully short.
"Tom!" The wind was so loud he could barely hear himself. How could he expect Tom to hear him?
Bouncing on his toes, Jake leaned forwards, and just as he was about to run down the hill, he lost sight of the thing. Frowning, he scanned the valley. Where had it gone?
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