In Constant Fear

by Peter Liney

  I retrieved my backpack, made sure I had the laser with me and leaped onto the tandem, heading off down to the bottom of the woods, now familiar enough with the route to move at surprising speed even at night.

  When I burst through the tree line, I gotta bit of a shock: they were already noticeably closer, their lights bobbing up and down: presumably the leg section of the Bodyguard advancing toward us as quickly as those powerful prosthetics would allow.

  I had to cut them off somehow—maybe head up the road a ways and find myself a bit of elevation overlooking their approach. For some reason I had it in my head that Nora Jagger wasn’t with them, that even if she’d seen the flashing light she wouldn’t have imagined I’d be stupid enough to have anything to do with it. Maybe this was just a patrol, and if I could draw them away from the farm, take out a couple of them at the same time, I’d be doing us a favor.

  I checked the laser and made sure it was on full blast (never gonna make that mistake again), aware that I didn’t really know my enemy, that maybe the Bitch’s Bodyguard might have a surprise or two for me. All I wanted was to create a degree of mayhem, then hopefully get away before they could reorganize themselves.

  I waited ’til they were almost past me, those lights on their helmets proving a tempting target, then opened up. Several went to the ground, the rest just scattered, looking for cover—at least, I thought they had. To my surprise, two of them turned and ran at me like they were the patrol’s battering ram or something. I tried to cut them down, but they were firing back, and with something a lot heavier duty than the laser I was using.

  I jumped on the tandem and pedaled off, really chancing my arm in the dark, doing everything I could to draw them away from the farm. I fired back a couple of times, just to keep them honest, but there was no need; nothing was gonna stop their pursuit. In fact, it occurred to me what they reminded me of: growlers, ready to sacrifice anything, to be shattered and rebuilt, and I wouldn’t have minded betting that they shared the same software somewhere.

  But just like Nora Jagger, they had a weakness, a human core, and it wasn’t long before the weight of those heavy limbs and their exertions started to come into play. I kept going, grateful to see them falling back, firing every now and then, making it obvious which way I was going, the direction they should follow—which, of course, was as far away from the farm as I could entice them.

  Not that it was altogether random; I knew the time had come for me to leave, that if I was gonna continue my battle with this inner demon that maybe there was only one fair place for me to do it. I’d go back to the Commune, explain the situation to Sheila. If it was possible to fight the implant, to control it, or at least live with it for a while, then I would, but if it wasn’t and I ended up attacking someone—if I tried to rub out a non-imp or something—then the satellite would take me out. And as much as I had to live for, for that reason alone it would probably be for the best.

  I lost the Bodyguards somewhere in the forest in the early hours, at last able to relax, though it was no time at all before those familiar feelings of achiness and exhaustion returned. Once again I did everything I could not to give into them, getting off the tandem and continuing on foot, but it wasn’t long before my legs were giving out beneath me—I was literally falling asleep while walking.

  I had to stop, to bed down in some long grass, feeling a little like an addict about to take his poison, and sure enough, poison was what came.

  How we ended up in that position, I can’t even imagine, but for the second time in my life I saw Nora Jagger naked. She had those incredible prosthetic legs wrapped around me and was forcing me to do stuff I’d rather even not talk about, as if she was humiliating me, making me bow down before her.

  When I awoke, I couldn’t get that outta my head: I was filled with nausea and self-disgust, but something else, too: a growing suspicion that this was all part of it, that by such means she would eventually make me submit. How tired I was getting, the way she came to me every time I slept? That weevil implant knew I was fighting it, that I was putting up the barricades, so it was coming in through the back door, through my unconscious.

  I mounted up, freewheeling down the hill and out onto the plain, heading in the direction of the Commune, wondering about the others back at the farm: if they were all right, what they’d done about Gigi? The last thing on my mind was that Shadow-Maker—in any case, there was a high covering of clouds blocking out the sun—but suddenly I knew it was there. I stopped, looking up, scouring the sky, not able to see or hear anything, but I could feel it all the same. Whatever it was, whatever it was doing, it was up there.

  I don’t know why, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was coincidence, but for some reason my eyes got drawn to one particular spot. I squinted, trying to make out any kind of color or shape—and that was when it happened.

  At first I could barely believe it; all I could do was to stare. I swear, it just appeared in midair, plummeting down probably a half a mile or so away.

  Someone was falling outta the sky. Somehow they’d materialized outta nothing and now were tumbling down to their inevitable death. And yet there were no screams that I could hear, and no sign of any other movement, so maybe they were already dead. There was also something about that body—even from a distance it didn’t look quite right, like it was misshapen in some way.

  When it finally impacted with the ground, I understood it was probably further away than I’d first thought, but you know, I still heard a real thud echoing across the plain, as if life should never end without some kinda acknowledgment.

  I rode over there as fast as I could, having to detour when I saw an area of tell-tale grassy clumps, where I knew there’d be a bog. I negotiated my way around it but then stopped, realizing I’d lost myself somehow, but wherever that body was, it couldn’t be far away.

  I let the tandem fall to the ground and started to explore the nearby scrub, but I found no one and for a moment wondered if maybe I’d imagined the whole thing. It was only when I emerged on the far side that I saw a shattered and bloody leg poking outta the long grass.

  I slowly made my way over, steeling myself for what was obviously going to be something of an ordeal . . . but ya know, I had no idea.

  It’s funny how you don’t immediately recognize someone when you see them dead, how it takes you a while to appreciate you once knew them; that you talked and laughed and shared moments and feelings. I guess ’cuz it’s just the container that’s left, the contents, the person that you knew, have moved on elsewhere. I should’ve identified her clothes though; they were always so distinctive.

  Gigi’s body was lying smashed and broken on the ground, and I guess it was shock that prevented me from immediately coming to the obvious conclusion that her injuries weren’t all down to the fall, that she must’ve been dead already. After all, you don’t live long after you’ve been decapitated.

  It didn’t leave much doubt about who’d killed her—it was her usual barbaric method of slaughter. The question I couldn’t answer was how on earth the body had been disposed of? I would’ve sworn it’d just appeared in midair, even though I knew that wasn’t possible, that it had to have been dropped from high up—but I didn’t get it, not one little bit. In fact, I was so confused it took me a while to appreciate exactly what it meant—Jesus! Nora Jagger and the Bodyguard must’ve been at the farm! Did that mean everyone was dead?

  I knew immediately I had to go back, that nothing else mattered. I ran back to the tandem as quickly as I could, mounted up and was about to take off when a laser-blast blew my backpack off me.

  I threw myself to the ground, rummaging amongst the smoking remains, thankfully finding my own laser still intact. What the hell was going on?

  I raised my head a few inches and nearly paid for it with my life, the grass behind me instantly bursting into flames. I held up my laser, pointed it in the general direction the shots had come from, sprayed some fire, then took another look.

  Jesus,
wouldn’t you know it? It was the same two Bodyguards who’d chased me the night before, who’d apparently been following me ever since—in fact, it went through my head that maybe this was the culmination of a plan: that Gigi’s body had been dropped to flush me out. If it was, I gotta say, it’d worked perfectly.

  Again a burst of laser fire pinned me flat to the ground and I heard some familiar running, that mechanical slurp-slurp, and knew they were coming for me. I rolled over a couple of times, got off a couple of shots and, I thought, managed to hit one; for sure they’d stopped coming and were now crouched down in the undergrowth.

  I prayed it was a moment of doubt, something I could take advantage of, and crawling on my knees and elbows, snaked through the bushes ’til I saw the tandem, then made a run for it. But I didn’t get there. Heavy laser fire ignited everything around me, the undergrowth popping and crackling with dissipating energy. I fired back as much as I could, but like I’d said, those guys had much heavier-duty weapons.

  There was another blast so close it actually took the heel off my boot. I knew I was in big trouble. No way could I win a straight-out fire-fight with those two, and I didn’t like my chances of hightailing it outta there either.

  I let them have everything I had, raking my laser back and forth, hoping it would buy me a few seconds, then made for the tandem again. I was almost there before they came after me, laying down a deluge of fire, igniting everything around me. Tell the truth, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been hit. It even went through my head that maybe that wasn’t their intention, that their orders were just to capture me; maybe the actual killing was gonna be done by someone else, and you didn’t have to be a genius to know who.

  I managed to reach the tandem, to leap on and start pedaling, but with all the long grass and thick scrub, it wasn’t a place for getting up speed and those powerful prosthetic legs of theirs were making much faster progress. I turned, fired back at them a couple of times, but then lurched to one side, almost came off, and dropped my laser in saving myself.

  I gotta be honest, I can take no credit whatsoever for what happened next. It was just a quirk of Fate. I saw the distinctive islands of grass looming up before me and knew I had to ride around, but the two Bodyguards took what to them was the obvious route, thinking they were about to catch up to me.

  Thing was, those legs were pretty damn heavy. They’d barely gone three or four strides before they began to sink, another couple more and they were in over their knees. They immediately panicked, twisting their bodies from side to side, trying to work their way out, but that only made things worse. They were sinking deeper by the second. They turned toward me, like they were trying to gauge my reaction, maybe even considering asking for my help, but then one of them decided there was an easier way.

  “Get us out!” he ordered, pointing at me with his laser.

  Thank God, there were some large rocks nearby, on this kinda promontory jutting out into the bog. I dropped the tandem and scrambled over there on my hands and knees laser-fire again scorching everything around me, tucking myself down behind this boulder. For what felt like forever, shards of rock spat and flew around me and parts of the undergrowth erupted with flame, ’til finally the shooting began to die down.

  I risked a quick look, wondering if their power-packs had run out, and was answered by another laser-burst—but I could see why they’d stopped. Every time they fired, they sank that bit quicker. They were already up to their chests, screaming abuse at me, threatening what they’d do if I didn’t help—and certainly not saying anything that might persuade me to leave the safety of my rocky hide-out and help them.

  In their final moments, with only their heads showing and mud already starting to rise over the shorter guy’s chin, the human side began to win out over the implants. They started pleading with me to help, and I did think about it for a moment, but the knowledge that they belonged to one of the most evil forces that ever existed, that some of their colleagues had been at the farm and done God knows what to those I loved, was enough to convince me I wasn’t gonna complicate my life by saving theirs.

  Having said that, those last cries were something I never wanna hear again. They changed in note as death and desperation took over, ending with this coughing, choking gurgle that meant it was over.

  I went to step out, but d’you know, I was a moment or two too soon. The taller one had been waiting for me to do just that; his nose and eyes and one arm were still sticking out of the muddy mire, like a crab waiting to mug its prey. His laser was directed my way, and the instant I appeared, he let me have it, determined that his last act on this Earth would be to kill me.

  Thankfully, the position he was in meant he got it all wrong. The laser blast went way over my head and the slight recoil was enough to push him under once and for all; for a few macabre moments just his hand and the laser remained, and believe it or not, he was still firing the damn thing, hoping to get in one last lucky shot, ’til finally, that disappeared as well.

  For a few seconds I just stood there. It was a real weird thing to witness, believe me: Mother Earth consuming her dead that way, swallowing them whole. I also couldn’t help but reflect on the natural justice of it; those murderous prosthetic legs had helped confine them to their fate. But I had more urgent things to contend with, and after running back to retrieve the laser I’d dropped, I jumped on the tandem and pedaled off as fast as I could.

  By the time I got back to the farm and my usual spot at the edge of the woods overlooking the homestead, I’d damn near popped my lungs, written off the tandem and worried myself to death—though I was rewarded by a view I appreciated more than any other: nothing but normality.

  I couldn’t see everyone, but Lena and Thomas were on the porch, Nick and Gordie were chopping wood, and by the look of the open door, Jimmy was working away in the barn.

  What had happened exactly, I didn’t know, and the way things were, I got the impression they didn’t either; that they weren’t even aware Gigi was dead.

  I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see them—especially Lena and Thomas, of course, but you know, as soon as I calmed down, as soon as my fears were tethered elsewhere, that damn tiredness fell upon me again. I’d actually been thinking about going over there—not too close, but calling out to them maybe, finding out what they knew about Gigi—but I couldn’t even manage the walk.

  I had to sleep, even though I knew I shouldn’t, that Nora Jagger would come to me, but there was no other choice. It felt like an illness, physical and mental, and so immediate and debilitating that once again I more or less collapsed where I was, my eyes closed even before I hit the ground.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I don’t know how long I slept, nor how long it took me realize I was awake, maybe ’cuz the crossing from unconscious to conscious had been so seamless, and although I awoke in darkness, I had an idea the place I’d just vacated had been even darker.

  As I roused myself and gazed down at the darkened farmhouse I was filled with this sudden sense of purpose. The time had finally come. There were no other options—in truth, there never had been.

  I began to stride purposefully across, stopping at the log pile on my way and choosing a heavy branch. I was aware they had lasers, and I’d brought mine, but I was hoping to do this with the minimum of fuss. I could take them out one by one without anyone waking—maybe strangle Delilah and Miriam. Shouldn’t be too difficult, not for me. After all, I was the Big Guy. I’d lived most of my life through violence.

  I felt almost a sense of liberation, of relief, as if I was finally doing what I’d always been meant to do: obeying orders, dispensing with the non-imps. I knew we’d meant something to each other in the past, but the truth was, we couldn’t anymore—not with the fundamental difference inside us. I took a deep breath, gripped my heavy club tighter, feeling that familiar strength in my right arm. I was getting ready to take the first swing, for the impact of club against skull, the way it would kinda bounce off, the so
und of cracking bone, the splatter of blood. As for the baby . . . Thomas, well, he wasn’t much more than mush anyway.

  I had no idea why, but for some reason that thought stopped me in my tracks. Thomas. My son. He’d had an implant—if only he’d kept it, I wouldn’t’ve had to include him. For that matter, why had any of us fought the weevils? It would’ve been so much easier if we’d all given in.

  At that moment I felt a kind of jolt inside, almost like I was being monitored, as if I was being pushed forward: there was no room for discussion anymore. All of them had to die and that was an end to it.

  Maybe it’d be best if I killed Lena and Thomas first, get that part over with? The others would be easy after that. I could try the bedroom window, see if it was open, get in that way.

  I snuck around the house as quietly as I could, grateful there was a little wind, that the odd gust, the creaking of timbers, was covering my footsteps. The window was closed but unlocked, and I slid it up an inch or so at a time, soon feeling the warmth of the room brush past me on its way out, the smell of stale air, of oxygen that had sustained the woman and child’s bodies.

  The baby snuffled a little as I began to climb through, as if he knew it was me, and I froze, petrified he was about to wake. I knew it would have to be her first, that she’d fight to the death to save her child. I eased my other leg inside, feeling a little like something was beginning to rotate inside me, to quietly slash at my insides. I took a coupla faltering steps forward, raising my club, ready to smash it down on the woman’s head, but she changed position, made a slight whimper, the bedding around her rustling. Oh shit, don’t tell me she was going to wake? Would she know it was me or think it was some anonymous stranger in the dark?