Looking back over his shoulder as he ran away, the floor suddenly gave way beneath Jake and he fell. Landing across a bar on his way down, his back made a tearing crack like splintering wood, and he was enveloped by a fireball of agony.
The fall was about six feet, and as Jake lay on his back, staring up at the hole he'd made, debris falling in on him, dust swirling in the stale air, he groaned.
Then his world went dark.
***
As she watched on, her frame sagged. Balling her right fist, she punched her left hand. "Fuck it!" All he had to do was leave Birmingham. After that, she was sure he'd have seen the potential for a positive existence.
But no, not Jake Weston. Too bloody curious that man.
Didn't he know it wasn't nice to throw rocks? As she watched him, out cold as he lay on his back, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Jake, but this has to end now."
Chapter Thirty-Five
Opening his eyes, Jake saw dust swirling in the air above him as if he'd only just fallen. Maybe he had. It was hard to tell.
Bang! The sound was like a horse kicking a stable door.
Adrenaline surged through Jake, but his limbs were lead and his back ached. Riding the rush, he took quick breaths and stared up at hole he'd fallen through. The wind above raged as fiercely as before, but inside there was a musty stillness. It was like he'd fallen into a tomb--perhaps his own.
Bang!
"Fuck." Lifting his head, Jake pulled air through his clenched teeth. It felt like his vertebrae were being separated with hot knives. Was his back broken? He wiggled his toes. No.
Bang!
Taking huge gulps of the musty air, Jake sat up, wincing with every millimeter of movement. He was on a bus. What the hell? It was a double-decker, and he was riding on the top deck. The top always afforded the best view of the city, although all he saw through this bus's windows was rubble. Were it not for the hole he'd created, then it would be pitch black inside.
Bang! Bang!
The bus shook and Jake grabbed on, his damaged right hand screaming from the movement. Finding a rock on the floor, Jake picked it up and got to his feet.
Bang!
The sound was coming from the rear of the bus. Hunched over, Jake stared in the direction of the noise.
Bang!
This had to end now. Stepping forwards and straightening his back, Jake nearly vomited before he got his words out. "Show yourself, you coward."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A thick cloud of dust rose into the air, and Jake stopped still. Looking at the rock in his hand, he dropped it on the wooden floor. Who was he kidding? There was no way he could stand toe to toe with it.
Bang!
The entire bus shook again, and Jake thrust his arms out for balance.
Bang!
Retreating a step, a line of tension riding from his left hip to beneath his right shoulder blade, Jake kept his eyes on the back corner of the bus. When he bumped into one of the old seats, it rocked on its rusty hinges. If the inside was ruined, what was the outside of the bus like? How long would it be before the thing burst through the rusty shell?
There was a scrabbling sound and the rubble along the bottom of the large back window shifted.
The dust in the air got into Jake's throat, and it itched when he swallowed a sandy gulp. Jake looked up. He was directly beneath the hole he'd fallen through.
More rubble shifted on the other side of the back window. When Jake saw a hand, he froze. "What the fuck?" It looked human, but where the fingernails should have been were black crusts of dried blood. A life underground seemed to have no need of them.
The hole above seemed impossibly out of reach.
After pulling some more rubble away, an arm rubbed along the back window. Its movements were frantic as it fought the environment to get to its prey. The pallid appendage had dark veins running along it as if it had oil for blood. The creature hissed.
Gritting his teeth, Jake lifted one of his legs, the base of his spine feeling like it was about to click out of place. When he raised it high enough to get onto the seat, he stepped up, a wobble shaking his entire body.
Using his left hand, Jake grabbed the handrail above. Grinding his jaw, he stretched a leg across and straddled the aisle, a foot on the back of each chair. The seats rocked beneath him and sent ripples up his spine that made the muscles in his back spasm. If he didn't hurry up, the seats would tear free of their bolts and throw him back down to where he'd come from.
Long dark hair appeared at the window. Below it was a pale forehead. It was a little girl. Squirming, she slithered up the rubble. Using her head, she cleared a path.
Taking several deep breaths of the musty air, Jake bent his atrophied legs.
Then he saw the little girl's face. She was no more than eight years old. The grease in her hair made it thick. Nestled in sunken sockets were the bloody eyes he'd seen in the house. A glazing of deep red sat where irises and retinas should have been.
Three, two, one. Jake pushed for the hole.
Rising out of it, he brought his elbows crashing down on the outside of the bus, but there was nothing to latch onto. Slipping, his legs kicking, he fell backwards into the hole and hit the ground with a thud.
Writhing on the floor, his body contorting, Jake chased the dusty air to fill his winded lungs.
Looking up at the window, he saw the girl lying diagonally across it. A lizard on a hot tile. With her bloody eyes locked at him, she hissed, banged on the window and snapped her jaws.
The hiss rang in Jake's ears as he sat up again, his winded body slow to cooperate. Standing up, he lifted his leg and stood up on the seats. The rusty bolts groaned under his weight for a second time.
Clenching a fist, she banged it against the window.
Stretching his damaged arm to the sky, Jake reached for the lip of the hole. Some of the rust at the edges crumpled like ash, but then he found a piece that he thought would support his weight and grabbed it, a burn running down his arm. "Ow."
Bang!
Raising his left hand, he found a place to grab opposite his right. With sweat running into his eyes, he glanced back at the girl. Hatred twisted her evil features.
Bang! A crack appeared on the back window.
Jake's right foot slipped off the seat. Clinging onto the lip of the hole with his left hand, he prevented his fall, his back cracking as his body jarred.
Bang! The window creaked as the crack stretched.
Looking down at his dangling feet, Jake found the backs of the seats again.
Bang!
Just as he found his footing, the window popped with a whoosh! A solid thud as she hit the floor was accompanied by tingling glass and crashing rubble.
Bending his knees, his strength having all but vanished from his legs, Jake looked up out of the hole.
One last glance into the bus showed the girl spring up and land in a crouch. Hissing again, she ran at him, her bare feet pattering against the wooden floor.
After a deep breath, Jake pushed off and jumped for daylight.
Rising above the hole, Jake found a lump of metal and grabbed it with his left hand. Pulling himself up, the girl hit his dangling foot, but Jake managed to get free before she could pull him back in.
Scrabbling away, Jake fell onto his side and gasped. With blurred vision, he stared at the devastation surrounding him, and his body felt like it would never work again.
As Jake lay there, he listened. Despite the strong wind, he could hear the snarling and hissing in the bus below.
Once Jake had recovered, he got to his feet. The grit on the wind stuck to his sweaty face and he shook violently. Walking over to the hole on wobbly legs, he peered in.
Pacing up and down the aisle, she kept her face turned towards Jake. Her red eyes glared death and her open mouth was a black pit.
Jake stared at the creature below. Despite having a human form, her actions were alien. There was a twitchiness to her gait that Jake had never
seen in a living creature. "What are you going to do now, you horrible cunt?"
When her lips pulled back, it revealed sharp teeth.
"You can't do anything down there, can you?"
She hissed.
Teetering on the edge of the opening was a lump of reinforced concrete that was almost as big as the girl. Thank god that hadn't fallen in when he was down there. Sidestepping around the hole, Jake watched the thing and she watched him right back.
"You killed my friend, you little bitch." Tears stood in his eyes when he gave the concrete the gentlest shove. It toppled in.
Flinching at the wet crunch, Jake looked down and saw the girl's limbs protruding from beneath the concrete at unnatural angles, broken like a spider beneath a mug. Her porcelain appendages with their black veins lay limp. An ever-increasing dark pool spread outwards.
Watching the thick blood coat her skin, Jake kicked more rubble in after her, lifted his scarf, and spat into the hole.
"Horrible little shit." Spinning around, he walked away, tears still in his eyes. Surely that would be the last he saw of her. It had to be.
Hopefully Rixon wasn't on her side.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Walking over the craggy ground beneath the dark grey sky, Jake's body was slowly failing. The black of night had come and gone twice since he'd last stopped. If he rested, he wouldn't get back up again.
Wincing against the splints that shot up his shins, he fought to fill his grit-damaged lungs. Each inhalation drew less air than the last, his vision swimming as he ploughed on.
Holding his chest with his left hand, Jake's heart played its increasingly irregular beat against his palm. The wind battered his exposed face and ears.
Every time he looked up, he expected to see the tall frame of his friend. Although they often went hours without talking, just knowing there was someone there prevented Jake from feeling lonely. Looking up at the sky as if Tom were watching down, Jake sighed and returned his attention to the ground, carefully mapping out each step.
Tears streamed from beneath his glasses, pulling what moisture he had left from his body. A trickle of snot dripped down the back of his throat. The viscous, salty secretion tasted like sand. Swallowing it with his dry mouth was like chugging glue.
One step fell into the next as Jake walked with a zombie gait. The momentum of the stumbling trudge, moments away from falling face-first, pushed him on.
Mistaking a sheet of wood for masonry, he stood on it and it shot from beneath him. Fire exploded in his left buttock when he hit the ground, his back arcing, thrusting his stomach towards the sky. Screaming, he rolled around before falling limp.
Gulping more of the thick snot in his throat, Jake lay still, his thigh and lower belly held in a nauseating grip that was radiating outwards. Lying helpless and hopeless like a discarded doll, he cried harder than ever.
Engaged in a palsied battle against his pain, Jake finally gave up and rested his tired head against a rock. It was the first time he'd laid down since leaving Tom. Sleep wasn't an option without his friend to watch over him, but his safety didn't matter now. There wouldn't be a morning after this slumber.
When he closed his eyes, he saw an image of Rory lying just out of reach of his dad. What was he doing? He couldn't control the outcome of his life, but he could control when he gave up.
Clenching his jaw, Jake fought against the aches and lethargy in his body and stood up.
When he was fully upright, the force of the wind rocked him. Leaning into the gales, he fell forwards into his weary gait and moved on again.
###
Hours had passed, and Jake barely had the strength left to lift each foot. With leaden legs and a heavy heart, he was virtually at a standstill. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he suddenly saw it.
Nestled in a crack, sheltered on all sides from the wind, was the tiniest splash of pink. Forgetting his aches, Jake fell into a crouch and peered into the tiny crevice. A small flower stared back at him, trembling in the diminished breeze. Its green stalk was barely more than an inch long, and its pink petals stretched out from its yellow centre. It looked like a pink daisy. For something so fragile, it had monumental strength. Having fought its way through tons of rubble, it now stood in open defiance of the corporate giant that owned this world. It reached for the sky in a clear act of beautiful rebellion.
After staring at the only other survivor Jake had seen in days, he lifted his face to the grey clouds, the grit on the wind stinging his cheeks. "This is it, Tom. This is why I didn't want to play the game. I knew nature would win out. Life's too strong."
Leaning over again, he stroked the delicate petals. With the dust and callouses on his hands, it was impossible to feel the tiny flower, but he saw it move against his touch. That was enough.
When a warmth pressed against the back of his head, he pulled back and looked up again. Deferring to the flower's needs, he moved aside and watched it sparkle in the first beam of sunlight he'd seen in years. Staring at the tiny flower, he smiled, his tears flowing harder than ever. "Thank you, Tom."
***
Sitting up straight to keep her tired eyes from closing, she continued watching her monitors. Some showed beaches with tanned and toned men being oiled down by scantily clad women. Some showed sports scenes where winning points were being scored in the most dramatic of fashions. The scenes kept changing, the screens blinking from one shot to the next, all of them showing a reality greater than the user could possibly hope to experience unaided.
All except one.
Having locked the screen hours ago, she continued to stare at Jake lying on the floor of the bus. Her boss had gone to lunch that morning, and she was waiting for him to return.
When she finally felt him walk up behind her, she kept her eyes on the image of the broken man. "Jake Weston." She said it so quietly it sounded like a low growl. "I've been watching this one for a while. There were things keeping him stuck in his negative projection. His imagined best friend. The city he chose to stay in. Some weird creature things following him. As I watched, those things eventually changed, but he still didn't pull out of it."
Her boss's heavy hand rested on her shoulder. "There's nothing you can do for a negative projection, Marie. There's no one thing dragging them down. You could take away every element of their experience, and they'd simply refill it with another miserable projection. Termination is the only way." Laughing, he squeezed his grip. The cruelty in his tone sent a cold chill running through her. "At least you've popped your cherry. Your first termination is a big deal."
When her boss leaned forward, the smell of his morning coffee and fried food filled her space. As his fat arm stretched over her, she wanted to grab it, but she didn't; she didn't have the authority to question his decision.
Wringing her hands to stop them from doing anything stupid, she watched her boss double tap the screen and press his thumb against it when he was prompted for his fingerprint.
A panel of buttons filled her monitor. She knew of them only by reputation. There was just one she cared about. It was a big red cross in the centre of the screen.
As if in slow motion, her boss moved towards it, his index finger outstretched.
With her stomach churning and her heart beating in her throat, she watched his pudgy finger. Seconds before he pressed it, she closed her eyes, her entire frame sagging.
I'm sorry, Jake. I'm so sorry.
###
The flower continued to bask in its spotlight of sun, and Jake watched it with a wide grin stretching across his face. Dust clung to his tear-dampened cheeks.
Flinching, Jake shook his head and blinked several times.
Then it came again, like a punch on the nose. The Rixon logo.
Shaking his head, Jake felt dizzy.
It flashed through his vision again. Rixon.
Every time the black background and red writing shot into view, it was like being kicked in the face. He flinched with every flash and looked at the Rixon
Tower. It changed form, widening and shrinking as if it were being sucked into the ground.
Rixon.
A loud and continuous tone went off in his head. It was deep, shaking his vision as it reverberated through his skull. Everything spun, the outer edges of Jake's world turning the fastest, the horizon now nothing more than a blur. It was like being in the eye of a storm. He looked down at the flower. It was the only thing in the world not spinning. It was resolute and in control. It was at the centre of the chaos. It was the ringmaster, not Jake.
Rixon.
Rixon.
The physics of his world turned on its head and debris and rubbish floated all around him. Jake expected to see a cow flying backwards and wondered if he'd wake up in OZ.
Every smell he'd ever experienced hit him in the face and he retched. His nostrils funneled the sharp rotting tang straight into his body. It felt like being gassed.
Rixon.
Feeling like his stomach had been torn out, Jake stared at his feet.
Rixon.
Rixon.
Rixon.
With wide eyes, he looked out over to where the tower was. All he saw was a grey blur as the horizon span faster. The motion made him want to vomit.
Rixon.
Overcome by dizziness and feeling like he'd fall at any second, he shouted, "You fucking arseholes!"
Rixon.
Rixon.
Rixon.
Tom had never existed. Rory had never existed. Thalia had never existed. Nothing was real.
The strobing of the Rixon logo made Jake close his eyes. Unable to stop the branding of his corporate overlord, he could at least shut out the desolate world surrounding him.
New Reality: Truth Page 15