New Reality: Truth

by Michael Robertson

  Then he saw the ground move again. It had stopped about fifteen meters away from his friend. What was it doing?

  ###

  The wind rocked Jake as he stood on the hill and watched the immobile lump of raised rubble. Having spent at least half an hour waiting, the thing hadn't moved. He couldn't wait there all day. It wasn't just the thing beneath the ground that was Tom's enemy. Time was sharpening its scythe too. The mission hadn't changed. The only thing Jake could do was find a headset.

  Taking a few steps up the hill, Jake turned around again. The thing still hadn't moved. A few more steps and a check. Nothing. A few more steps ...

  Once he was at the top of the hill, Jake scanned what he could see of the wasteland stretching before him. One more step forwards and he'd have to forget about his friend until he found a headset. Looking behind again, Jake was now too far away to see what the thing was doing and could barely see Tom anymore. Watching the blurred image of his companion, he gulped. "God be with you, Tom." He wasn't sure why he'd said that.

  Turning back around, he caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. Trying to trace the streak of black as it vanished into the grainy air, he quickly gave up and looked at what it had left behind.

  Lying just meters away from him were two shiny black headsets. The scarlet stripes of their corporate branding ran across them. Looking again for what must have been the Bot that dropped them off, all Jake saw was dust clouds and devastation.

  Shaking his head, Jake looked at the offering, his body tense. He then looked up at the glowing tower on the horizon. Tom was right, they were watching them.

  Grinding his jaw, he threw his middle finger in the direction of their corporate overlord. "Fuck you, Rixon. This is all just a fucking game to you, isn't it?"

  There was no reply. Why would there be? Staring at what he could see of the tower, Jake let his hand fall to his side. It was just a tower. The god inside the machine was faceless and omnipotent. It acted when it was inclined to do so, not because it was goaded by an insignificant ant.

  Jake had to hurry up. His choice was clear. One headset or two?

  Holding his grumbling stomach, he looked at the small white tube in each. Sustenance stared back at him. In one of those black plastic shells was a potential escape from his hellish existence. All he'd seen in a long while was ruin and decay. Nature had abandoned this world a long time ago. Why was he still searching for it?

  Rubbing his face, he stepped forwards and groaned as he leaned over. Using his functioning left hand, Jake lifted the headsets from the floor. Their combined weight was heavy on his weak arm. How much of their burden was physical, and how much was psychological? Jake was just about to do the one thing he swore he'd never do. Just the action of holding them was like signing a deal with the devil.

  The headsets swayed in the breeze like coconuts, and the throbbing in Jake's hand increased. It was like his body was spurring him on. The infection seemed to be getting worse by the second.

  Two days away from dehydration, a week from starvation, and a thing at his back that was thirsty for his blood left him just one choice. Jake's frame sagged. Tom was right; this was as good as it got.

  ***

  Watching on, she rubbed her hands together. Take your time, Jake. Take as much time as you like. Don't worry about Tom. I have my eye on him. The tension in her shoulders eased as she let out a relieved sigh. "He'll probably be dead before you get back anyway."

  Chapter Thirty

  Before Jake was about to return to Tom, he saw a dark blur vanish behind a pile of broken plasterboard. Staring for a moment, Jake's blood suddenly ran cold. Swallowing the grit in his throat, he tried to hold onto his panic. Why hadn't he seen it before it happened? These bloody headsets weren't a gift. They were a trap.

  Loosening his grip on the straps, Jake was about to let the headsets fall, but he stopped. That was a ridiculous idea. What would he do, pretend he'd never seen them and deny any wrongdoing? Like that would prevent him from receiving a belly full of lead.

  The machine had been sent with a mission. It had executed it flawlessly. Shaking his head, Jake's body trembled. What a mug! Why had he fallen for it?

  Pulling his shoulders back, he shouted at the pile of broken plasterboard, "Come on then, you piece of shit! I'm here if you want me!" The exertion stimulated a coughing fit that lifted the taste of blood and sand into his throat.

  Opening his mouth to shout again, he stopped when he saw another movement. Falling into a defensive crouch, he let the headsets hang from his hand like a slingshot. David had beaten Goliath once before. Maybe he could do it again.

  Tightening his grip on the straps, the grit on the wind burning his unblinking glare, he held fast.

  When he saw movement again, he relaxed a little. It wasn't a Bot behind the broken boards, it was a flap of material blowing in the gales. Laughing, he straightened his back. "Thank God."

  Both the throb in his right arm and good sense told him to take the headsets back to his friend. Despite this, he took a couple of steps in the direction of the fabric. The shifting surface was a terrible platform should he need to beat a hasty retreat, but he had to see what was there.

  Arriving at the boards, he peered over. The first thing to hit him was the putrefying and rancid smell of rot and excrement. Although he pinched his nose, he was too slow and was left with the taste of decay in his mouth. It reminded him of food poisoning, but much worse.

  After just a few seconds, the burn in his infected hand made pinching his nose too hard to bear. Letting go, he continued to hold the headsets with his other hand and tried to breathe through his mouth as he studied the form on the floor.

  The billowing material was a sweatshirt. All that was left of it clung to the gamer's right wrist and rode the elements like a tattered flag. The rest of the gamer's body was exposed. The huge torso had clearly burst free of its clothes years before. The bulbous chin of the gamer moved with his phlegmy irregular breaths. It was like listening to someone with sleep apnea.

  Rubbing his face, Jake looked at the long ginger hair, and scarred top lip. The remaining fabric bore the logo of Aston Villa Football Club. Running his left hand through his greasy hair, Jake sighed. "Oh, fuck."

  ***

  As she watched on, her sore eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Shit! This could ruin everything. Tom needed to be gone for Jake to survive. If he found out about his son, he wouldn't put the headset on. That would stop Jake from moving on. If he didn't leave Birmingham, she'd have to get involved.

  Balling her right hand into a fist, she bit down on it. "Shit!"

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When Jake looked down the hill, his breath left his lungs. "Shit." The space previously occupied by Tom was vacant. Opening his mouth to call out, Jake stopped. What good would it do? It was impossible to be heard over the wind.

  Grinding his jaw as he frowned against the elements, Jake's lungs tightened. Had the creature got to Tom? Looking down for a long line of raised rubble leading up to where Tom was, he saw nothing.

  Leaping forwards, Jake rode the hill of loose debris, his weak legs threatening to give out beneath him, the wind flicking the headset in his hand. Arriving at the pylon without falling, he bobbed and weaved through the metal structure, pausing twice to catch his breath.

  Pulling on the air through his scarf, the pain in his right hand flared up as if reminding him his lungs weren't the only part of his body that had taken a battering. The burn now ran from the tips of his fingers to his shoulder.

  When Jake came out of the other side of the metal structure, he saw his friend lying exactly where he'd left him. He now lay totally flat, which must have been why he was hidden by the pylon. Blinking against the sting of sweat running into his eyes, Jake sighed. "Thank fuck."

  The relief passed quickly. The tall man appeared to be sleeping, but was that even possible with a broken hip? "Tom?"

  There was no movement from the man.


  "Tom?"

  Still nothing.

  Dropping to the floor a little too quickly, Jake's kneecaps cracked against a particularly robust slab of concrete. The shock ran up his body and culminated in him biting his tongue. The explosion of fire and the metallic taste of his own blood made him queasy. Folding his tongue over on itself, he probed the deep and slimy cut. How long before that turned bad like his hand?

  Swallowing a bloody gulp, he let go of the headset, leaned over, and touched Tom's cold face. "Tom, are you okay, mate?" Pulling the sunglasses away, he put them on. Tom's eyes were closed.

  When the tall man still didn't move, Jake slid two fingers along his neck. It was hard to discern through the dusty beard, but he couldn't feel a pulse. Looking the man up and down, Jake scratched his head. "Tom, wake up."

  Nothing.

  Running his hand through his hair, Jake looked at the headset. He'd brought it to him too late. Grief twisted both his face and voice. "Come on, man, wake up. I went as quickly as I could."

  Nothing.

  Closing his eyes, Jake faced the sky. "Please, God, let him be okay. I have a headset for him now. Please."

  "What are you doing?" Tom's voice was feeble.

  It jolted Jake from his prayer, and he looked down at his pale friend. His eyes were open. "You bastard, I thought you'd died. Jesus, man, don't do that to me."

  When Tom regarded Jake, it was clear death wasn't far away.

  Grabbing the headset, Jake offered it to him. "Here, I managed to find one."

  Tom shook his head. "How?"

  "It was just over the brow of the hill."

  Jake could see Tom grinning beneath his scarf. "What are you so happy about?"

  "They heard us. After all these years ..." Pausing, Tom closed his eyes, and took several breaths, "...of being watched. It's finally paid off."

  The image of the naked and obese Rory filled Jake's mind. Someone had been watching him when he was with Tom's son. What did they think he should do now? Should he tell him? Would they think he was a bad person if he withheld the information? Would they punish him for it? At a loss for words, he handed the headset over and remained silent.

  Wrapping his long hands around it as of it would give him warmth, Tom dipped a weak nod at his friend. "Thank you. I know you don't agree with me putting this on, but I feel like it's what I need to do for the sake of my sanity."

  The scarred top lip. The long ginger hair. The stretch marks. When he realized Tom was awaiting a response, Jake shook his head and tried to focus. "Um, so what will you do in New Reality?"

  "I'll eat and drink with my family."

  Jake's empty stomach gurgled, and his dry throat ached. "That sounds nice."

  Looking at the mouse ears, Tom laughed before spiraling into hacking coughs. When he finished, he looked paler than ever, but he was still smiling. "I think we'll go to Disney World."

  It pleased Jake to see his friend happy. It was the first time in what felt like years. Forcing a smile of his own, he thought of Rory. What would it do to Tom to see his son as the grotesque slug he'd just left behind?

  "What's wrong, Jake?"

  Snapping out of his daydream, the grin still sitting awkwardly on his face, Jake looked at his friend. "Huh?" His mind quickly caught up and he added, "Nothing. Why?"

  What appeared to be another hot wave of pain ran through the grimacing Tom. Once it had passed, he said, "You look a little," his eyes rolled, his last word coming out in a delirious sigh, "preoccupied."

  "I'm fine. It's just..." Jake stared at the headset. "I'm sad you're going, man."

  The look in Tom's eyes showed he knew there was more.

  Looking at the floor, Jake said, "And there was something else over the brow of the hill."

  When Tom reached across and grabbed Jake's hand, Jake flinched. "You're cold, Tom."

  "Don't change the subject. What else did you see over the brow of the hill?"

  Angry red stretch marks. The Aston Villa Football Club logo. "There were two headsets." His cheeks flushed.

  "So why didn't you take one for yourself?"

  Shrugging, Jake looked at the Rixon Tower. It was easier than looking at his friend. "I know nature will win out. I want to see it happen."

  In the past, Jake's comment would have been met with resistance. Squeezing Jake's hand again, Tom nodded. "I hope it does. You deserve to see your desires fulfilled."

  Tom's sincerity was a knife to Jake's stomach. The last few years of Tom's life had been about finding his son, and Jake now held the power to make that happen. "Come on, just put the bloody thing on and be done with it. Let's not drag this out and get all sentimental, eh?" Looking away, Jake blinked to clear the tears from his eyes.

  Patting Jake's leg, Tom then lifted the headset over his head. The device cast a thick shadow over Tom's long face.

  Raising his hand, Jake said, "Wait."

  Tom paused.

  When Jake swallowed, he tasted his own blood again. "Good luck, man. Sweet dreams and all that. I really hope it works out for you and you get everything you wish for."

  Tom smiled. "I will." He then said, "Jake."

  Avoiding eye contact, Jake watched the hazy sun. "Yeah?"

  "You've never told me about your life before New Reality. You've only ever talked about the future."

  Shrugging, Jake still didn't look down at his friend. "There's nothing to talk about."

  "I'd like to hear it anyway."

  Picking a rock up from the floor, Jake stared at it. "I had two parents that fully supported everything I did. For a while," he added. "I was an only child." Pausing, he cleared the hot lump of grief wedged in his throat. "Well, I ended up an only child."

  "Ended up?"

  Jake tried to clear his throat again. "Louisa died when she was five. Leukemia. I was eight at the time." Staring into the distance, he listened to the grit pattering against his glasses. "The hospital was such a positive place. It was full of bald children who all knew they'd get better." After a sigh, he looked down at Tom. "Louisa was one of the few that didn't. Positivity didn't help her much and chemo stuck the boot in. She got progressively worse."

  When Tom's grey eyes pinched, Jake laughed. "I bet you regret asking now, eh?"

  Shaking his head, Tom spoke in a weak voice. "Not at all. The children's ward was the worst in the entire hospital when I was working there. So bright and colorful. So many deaths. What about your parents? How did they cope?"

  "Badly. They went to pieces. We all did. Once the death of a child enters your house, it never leaves. Mum did her best, but Dad was distant after that. He didn't want to play football in the park anymore. He didn't want to go on family outings. He didn't want to leave his armchair. The TV was always on and Dad was always staring at it. He also drank a lot more. He was never a horrible drunk, just distant."

  When Tom winced sympathy at his friend, Jake pointed at him. "Don't you fucking dare!"

  Tom frowned.

  "That face. That face that says 'I know how you feel.' Or 'I'm sorry.' Don't, Tom, not you."

  Nodding, Tom raised his eyebrows. "So what about your parents? Did they put a headset on?"

  "No. If Dad were still alive when New Reality came out, then he'd have been first in the queue. He wouldn't have been able to resist the opportunity to get lost in the ultimate coping mechanism."

  Shaking his head, Jake drew a deep and stuttered breath. "We had a balcony in our house that Dad covered with teddies. It was mental. We had a lovely little house, and the balcony faced the road. Dad thought his shrine looked like something from a fairy tale. It didn't. It was fucking weird. It looked like something from a horror movie. He'd buy new teddies for each season--Easter bunnies, bears dressed as Santa, stuffed witches. We had hundreds of them stored in Louisa's old room. It was like he was expecting her to come back. Passers-by would ask what they were for, and we'd say it was a charity thing. People didn't need our sadness."

  When Jake looked over to see Tom staring at him, he
bit his bottom lip and his eyes burned with tears. "Mum died of cancer too. After that, Dad just stopped..." Pausing, he searched his mind for an appropriate word. "...working." He tested the phrase. "He just stopped working. His batteries ran out. When I visited him, he'd just stare out of the window into the garden. The loud tick of his clock and the chink of the ice in his whisky glass were about the only sounds in his house from then on. When he died, he left everything to me. My parents had a lot of money, so I never had to work again." Looking at the red glow on the horizon, Jake sneered. "I had a life of lazy luxury mapped out before Rixon fucked it all up."

  When he looked down at Tom, he was surprised to see him crying. The wind wobbled the tears on his face. "You've been a good friend, Jake."

  The words twisted Jake's stomach.

  "I'll miss you."

  Jake's throat tightened and his vision glazed. Clearing his throat again, he chewed the inside of his mouth.

  "If you see Rory out there, tell him I love him." Grabbing Jake's good hand, Tom's eyes held a sharp focus. "Tell him I tried."

  Unable to speak, Jake nodded and tears rolled down his cheeks.

  "Thank you, Jake, you're a good man. Your parents would be proud of you."

  While shaking uncontrollably, Jake stared at the floor. If only he knew.

  Pulling his scarf away from his mouth, Tom said, "I love you, Jake. I'm sorry I'm leaving." Lifting the headset, he paused. "And Jake."

  Jake looked up.

  "Be careful of whatever's been following us. They're creatures of malicious intent. I saw nothing but hate in their dark eyes."

  Swallowing a dry gulp, Jake nodded.

  Tom placed the headset over his head.

  While sobbing, Jake held Tom's hand.

  The headset's black straps came to life, wrapping around the back of Tom's head like a spider entrapping its prey. Several twitches pulsed through Tom's long frame before he fell limp like every muscle had failed simultaneously. His bowels relaxed, and he shit himself.