While pinching his nose, Jake stared at his friend. Tom's long body had yielded to the uneven terrain. Joining the rest of the inanimate idiots, Tom was now no more than a corpse with a pulse.
"I'm sorry, Tom. I truly am." Rubbing his face irritated the sores that had been burned into it from years of sandblasting. As long as he was here, they'd never heal. They'd putrefy like the guilt that darkened his soul and the gash on his infected hand.
Suddenly Tom's chest jumped towards the sky as his back arced. Staring at him, Jake frowned. "Tom?"
After the tall man's body fell limp again, Jake watched on. Then his headset fell away. The light had left Tom's grey eyes and his face was slack.
Shaking his friend, Jake said, "Tom?"
When Jake saw a line of blood leaking from the corner of Tom's mouth, he got to his feet and tried to sit him up. At first, he was hard to move, but then he came free and flipped over onto his front. Jake's legs weakened when he looked down at the metal spike. The blood covering it. The hole in Tom's back.
Suddenly the ground came to life and a line of raised rubble shot away from them, spraying Jake with stones and masonry. Within seconds it was out of view.
Staring at the bloody spike, Jake shook as if he was drawing his rage from the centre of the earth. Looking into the distance where the thing had disappeared, he looked down at the spike again.
Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth against the burn in his right hand, he screamed until his throat was sore. Pausing, he looked for signs of movement. When there were none, he lifted his face to the sky and screamed again.
Dropping to the floor, tears streaming from his sore eyes, Jake sat and stared at his dead friend.
***
With her hand on her pounding heart, she pulled deep breaths into her tight lungs. It was like she'd been stabbed herself. There was no doubt that Tom had to go. It was important that she reminded herself that. Tom had to go. To keep him alive would be to keep Jake in Birmingham. Her orders were clear. If Jake didn't move on, she had to end him. If her superiors found how long she'd let Jake live for already, there'd be consequences.
Staring at Tom's dead body, she then looked at his grieving friend. If Tom had drifted off into New Reality, there'd always be a reason for Jake to come back and check on him. It had to end this way for Tom. Although it didn't make it any easier. Tom was a good friend to Jake, but he was in the way.
Looking at Jake's hunched form, she felt every one of his tears. Watching the skinny and broken man, she drew a deep sigh and spoke under her breath. "He's gone now, Jake. You need to move on for your own sake. You need to get out of the city. If you don't, you'll die."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sitting still for so long had left a stagnant burn in Jake's joints. Stretching out, he flinched in anticipation of the pain. Straightening his legs, he felt like his kneecaps would crack. He frowned hard as he pushed through the sensations.
It was only when he touched his sodden cheeks that he realized he was still crying.
Looking at the corpse of his friend, who was still on his side, the back of his shirt damp with blood, Jake gave a deep sigh. Maybe Tom was with Thalia now. The tears surged again.
"I'm sorry we didn't save her, man. I should never have rushed you, but a Bot was bearing down on her."
"I should have told you about Rory too. Although I didn't think it would help. What could you have done with your hip like it is?"
Jake laughed. "It's a wonder we lasted as long as we did though." The scar in his arm ached. "After having my wing clipped by a Rixon-Bot, I thought I was done for. How did we survive for so long, Tom?"
###
The effort of climbing out of the crater for a second time was almost too much for Jake's body. When he arrived at the top of the hill, panting, he heaved several times. The exertion also irritated his infected hand, the burn now crawling round his back as it clung to his shoulder blade with a rusty grip.
As everything leveled out and the pain receded, Jake looked down at his friend one the last time. His best friend. The tall man deserved a eulogy, but Jake didn't have the words.
Staring for a moment longer, Jake dropped his eyes to the floor. By his feet was a broken headstone. The image brought everything flooding back. The night on the tombstone, the creatures beneath it, scratching... Suddenly his entire frame sank.
The inscription.
Jake opened his mouth to speak but was too choked. Drawing several breaths, he shook his head and lifted his fringe from his glasses. He finally said, "Happy birthday, mate."
Staring at Tom for a minute longer, he then dropped his shoulders and turned his back on him forever.
***
As she watched Jake walk away, body slumped, feet dragging, she tried to ignore the feeling of her brothers and sisters around her. It was against the rules to even look at one another, but that didn't mean someone wasn't doing it. Did they know she'd let Jake live for as long as she had? If there was a checklist for termination, Jake would have ticked every box several times already. She should have ended him by now.
Holding her hands as if in prayer, she tapped the tips of her fingers together and watched him move on. If she could protect him until he got out of the city, then no one would need to know that she should have terminated him. There was hope for Jake yet. He just needed to hurry the hell up.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The wind continued to flick the strip of material on Rory's wrist. The Aston Villa logo was still on show. Even in his current state, the boy still waved his colors with pride--a shared love of a football team between father and son. Weekends in the stadium. The highs, the lows, the bonding. The claret and blue now faded to almost grey. Jake sighed. The memories had faded with them.
Both of Jake's knees popped like snapping twigs when he squatted down next to Rory. The sensation was nothing unusual. How long would it be before his damaged body refused to get back up again?
Drawing a deep breath, Jake pushed into the top of Rory's right arm with his left hand. The fat on the kid's bicep squeezed through Jake's fingers, but Rory didn't budge.
After two deep breaths, Jake clenched his teeth and pushed again. With a shaking arm, he tried to ignore the throb in both his damaged right hand and his eyeballs. Stars swam in his vision. When his head started spinning, Jake yielded, falling back onto his ass as he panted from the effort.
Once he'd recovered, Jake stared at the boy. "I'm sorry, Rory, I can't flip you over. If Tom were here, then we'd be able to do it, but..." he looked down at the bloody bandage on his right hand and his starved body. "I struggle to lift my own weight now." Exhaustion ran through his veins like tar. Hunger ate him away from the inside. His saliva had turned into a thick and dusty paste in his throat.
The second headset was exactly where he'd left it, lying next to Rory and rocking in the wind. For an item that had caused more devastation to the human race than any other invention before it, it seemed so innocuous. It had spread throughout the world without prejudice like a virus. What was Rixon's end goal? What would they do when everyone was dead? How do you manipulate a society with no people? Looking up at the glow on the horizon, he shook his head and lifted his lip in a sneer. Tom was right, there were people left in the tower. There had to be.
But what good would it do to think about that now?
After studying Rory's obese form, Jake closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I didn't tell your dad about you, Rory. I'm sorry, but with his hip and my hand, there was no way of getting him to you. I figured that if he didn't know you were here, then he could move on without guilt. If I'd told him, then he'd have refused to put the headset on and died dragging himself to you. I didn't want that to happen." Snorting an ironic laugh, Jake shook his head.
Grunting as he fought for breath, Rory's huge chin wobbled.
Once he'd leveled out and fallen back into his pattern of labored respiration, Jake continued. "I didn't want his last thoughts to be tormented by the fact
that you were so close but totally unreachable."
More deep breaths did nothing for the pain in Jake's heart. "Besides, even if we had managed to get to you, we couldn't get that bloody thing off your head anyway." Leaning forward and touching his cold arm, Jake spoke slower. "I hope you understand."
With tears blurring his vision, Jake's voice cracked. "He said he was going to have dinner with you and your mum in Disney World. That was his plan anyway."
The pain of standing up tore through Jake, and fresh tears slid down his face. Watching Rory's heavy chest rise and fall, Jake allowed the grief to flow out of him. "Whatever's been following us killed him, Rory." Glancing over his shoulder, Jake looked back down at the boy. "I swear to you, if it's the last thing I do, I'll avenge your father's death."
When he was done, he swallowed the burning lump in his throat. "Your dad was a good man. He's the reason I'm still alive. In those early days, when I felt like I couldn't go on, I looked at him and his unwavering determination to get to you. His purpose became my purpose, and it gave me hope--a reason to carry on. His determination to get to you was so fierce it took a broken hip to stop him."
Drawing a stuttered sigh, Jake looked away from the boy. "He saved my life too. A huge chasm opened up in the floor and I couldn't walk. Instead of running to save himself, he came back for me." Laughing through his tears, Jake said, "It was nuts. I thought I was done for, and then your dad put a wobbly plank over an ever-increasing gap and walked across it. He was lucky he didn't fall. I owe him my life, Rory. I didn't know him before all of this bullshit happened, but I can honestly..." Grief choked him. "I can honestly say he's the best friend I've ever had."
After rocking in the wind for a few seconds, he turned his attention back to Rory. "I also wanted to thank you. Seeing you here has made me realize that I will find what I'm looking for. Your dad wanted to give up, and you were waiting around the next corner. It's taught me never to do the same." Looking up at the tower, he raised his voice. "Rixon want us to believe that they have control of everything, but they don't! I just have to be persistent if I'm going to beat them."
Crouching down, he patted the boy's fat arm. Ripples rolled away from the point of impact. "Sweet dreams, son. Take care."
Standing up again, he turned his back on Rory, dipped his head against the oncoming wind, and strode off with more purpose than he'd felt in a long time. Nature would win out. Things would change.
***
Leaning back, she let the tension of the last few weeks run out of her shoulders. This was it, the start of Jake's new life without Tom. It wouldn't be long and he'd be out of Birmingham. The city was the last thing Jake needed to be free of before he could move on, and she could stop watching him.
As Jake walked, she could see the determination in his stride. Sure, he'd lost his best friend, but his purpose had been revitalized. Everything was going to work out.
Throwing glances over each shoulder at those surrounding her, she saw no one was watching. She was going to get away with not killing him.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Seeing Rory had given Jake hope. What he was searching for was out there. All he could do about Tom now was learn from him. While gritting his teeth, he let his new mantra spin through his mind. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up. Never give up.
The mental pep talk helped Jake move with greater ease. The infection that had a hold of his right arm was receding. His joints moved with fluidity. A little too confident in his miraculous healing, he clenched his right fist. The burn made his stomach lurch and his head spin. Maybe that was a step too far.
Pulling his shoulders back, Jake lifted his face into the stormy winds. The sandblasting hit the lenses on his glasses. Never give up. Never give up.
Stopping just before he slipped on it, Jake looked down at the bottle of water on the floor. It looked exactly the same as the one Tom had found, almost as if it had come from the same place. Looking around, Jake couldn't see anything. For all he knew, he was surrounded by Bots on all sides that were just on the edge of his field of vision. Cameras could be feeding back to the tower right now, showing his every action.
Bending down, he lifted the bottle and flipped the lid off with his left hand. The fiddly movement ran an arthritic burn through his joints, and his fingers were too stiff to prevent the cap from being picked up by the wind and tossed away behind him. Watching it fly away, he shook his head. "Fuck it."
Lifting the plastic bottle to his lips, he filled his dry mouth with the cool liquid.
Upending the bottle, draining it of its last bit of water, Jake let the container go. The liquid swilled in his stomach, but without a lid, he couldn't save any for later. The water would be contaminated with grit by the time he tried to drink it.
A wet belch lifted into his throat. When he swallowed it back down, the muscles in his neck tightened at the sharp and acidic kick.
Clearing his throat of the burn nestling at the back of it, Jake lifted the scarf covering his mouth, spat, and set off again.
That was when he saw it.
At first, hidden by the dust storm, it looked like another mound of debris. But as he got closer, he saw its form had more order than that.
Halving the distance between him and the mound, he stopped. It was a church spire. The building was clearly buried far below it. The slightest smile lifted the sides of his mouth. Looking up at the sky, he laughed. "Not even Rixon can topple the big man."
Walking closer, Jake looked up at the top of it. What was protruding from the rubble stood about ten feet tall. They were a long way from what used to be ground level.
The old tiles that clung to the structure looked like they should have been replaced years previously, but despite the harsh elements, they still clung on.
Walking around the other side, Jake found a hole big enough to poke his head into. Maybe there was a way down? Maybe there was food and water in the unintentional catacombs? This world below must be ripe for mining. If only he could get to it.
Staring at the craggy mouth, its dark throat a deep well, Jake looked at the snapped wooden batons stretching across the space. The roof looked like a ribcage with a hole blown through it.
As the strong wind raced down the hole like water finding the path of least resistance, Jake listened to the church push it back out again. The strong gales were returned with a gentle sigh.
A chill ran through Jake and his toes curled. The building sounded like it was alive. Shaking his head, he forced a laugh and spoke for, what he quickly realized, was the benefit of the building. "It's just the wind, stop being such a pussy."
Stepping closer, Jake listened. Inhale, sigh, inhale, sigh. Standing on tiptoes, he peered in. The absence of light was complete.
Despite every part of Jake's being telling him to walk away, he edged farther forwards. Inhale, sigh, inhale, sigh.
When Jake was just a step away, he smelled the church's dusty breath. The stale air reeked of rot. It was like moldy wood. Like old bones.
Taking a deep inhalation, Jake poked his head through the gap. The stench was worse inside, forcing him to screw his nose up. Blinking, Jake felt the darkness push against his eyeballs in its thirst for light.
Although Jake couldn't see, he could feel infinite emptiness stretching out below him. This place was vast. How would he get down there?
Then he heard a scratching sound and his throat dried.
The thing!
It was still following him.
Speaking in a whisper, Jake shook his head. "No. Not again." Grinding his teeth, he pushed his face farther into the hole and screamed into the empty space. "Fuck off, you piece of shit!" The call flew through the building. It found every corner of the cavernous space and returned an ever-diminishing, "SHIT, SHit, shit," back to him.
The scratching stopped.
Holding his breath, Jake listened.
Silence.
Just as he was about to turn and walk away, he heard something. It was a gu
ttural and mewling growl that was somewhere between a cry and a cough. "Shit."
It was mimicking him.
A shadow moved through the darkness far below. It was as if the object was a deeper shade of black than the pitch of the church. Like it was on a different light spectrum.
The sound of Jake's panicked breath bounced back at him as he scanned the emptiness. "Just fucking show yourself."
The shadow moved again. It moved fast and made the clickety-click scuttling noise he'd heard when they were being chased by an army of them. It stopped where Jake could see it. Or at least see a darker blob of black. Its voice was clearer but still deep and rattling like a phlegmy cough. It repeated the word like it had no understanding of its meaning. "Shit."
Jake bent down and lifted a rock from the floor. When he looked back in, the blob was still there. Putting all of his effort into it, Jake grunted as he launched the rock.
It crashed against what sounded like a stone floor below, and the creature responded with a scorpion's hiss.
Pulling his head from the hole, Jake backed away. Picking up another rock, he lobbed it after the first one from where he was standing. The hissing grew louder.
Backing away some more, he threw another. This one missed but dislodged three tiles that all fell into the void. Three distant smashes were followed by a growl that made the thing sound closer than ever.
Forgetting his aches and injuries, Jake quickened his retreat. Then he heard something and froze.
"Jake Weston."
How did it know his name? Turning his back on the spire, Jake broke into a run, his brittle legs aching as if the bones would crumble beneath him.
The voice remained the same volume despite the distance he was putting between them. "Jake Weston. Jake Weston." It was a dark and unique accent like the creature came from a secluded corner of a distant rainforest. It sounded like it was speaking English for the first time. It nestled in his memories next to the bloody eyes. It started to complete the picture of the monster. It was more cunning, more brutal, more ruthless than he could ever be. It was also clearly comfortable on a terrain that bipeds weren't ever meant to thrive on. To fight it was foolish.
New Reality: Truth Page 14