by Peter Liney
I tell ya, that really shocked me. Just at that moment I would’ve preferred something else—for her to have despised me.
As if she’d finally made her mind up, that there was simply no other way, she pulled back the blanket and buried her face inside, kissing Thomas, hugging him to her, and even from where I was, I could see she was crying.
“No!” I cried, barely able to believe what she was doing, but again she ignored me, slowly collapsing down onto her knees, gently placing Thomas on the ground, leaving him on the far side of the clearing as if that was how these things should be done, that she wanted some leeway before she inspected me and affected the exchange. Once more I cried out in protest, but she walked determinedly away from the little guy, and I’ll tell ya, knowing how much that had to be hurting—knowing how much it was hurting me, seeing that tiny blue and white bundle left all alone on the ground—was pulling me apart a damn sight more effectively than Nora Jagger ever could.
“Lena, no!” I called, but there was no point anymore.
There was no confrontation between her and Nora Jagger, no angry words, as if it would be too much, that she simply wasn’t strong enough. She found her way to me, helped me to my feet, a whole trainload of pain tearing through me from head to toe.
“As good as new,” the Bitch smiled, obviously taking a certain pride in the agony etched on my face. “Well—as old, maybe.”
Lena never said a word, just supported me as I limped away, following my directions, moving us along as quickly as I could manage. I guessed she needed to put as much distance as she could between her and what she’d done—or maybe it was more ’cuz she didn’t trust the Bitch and wanted to get away before she tried something.
I didn’t look back but I could sense she was still watching us, enjoying seeing what a broken couple we were, smugly believing she could key me anytime she wanted, that I’d end up killing Lena.
Over and over, I told Lena not to worry, that we’d get Thomas back—but all she did was to shake her head, as if we’d finally been beaten; as if we simply had to accept what’d happened: that our little miracle had been stolen from us.
We got halfway up the slope, despite my shattered leg still able to find a kinda harmony of movement, almost at the spot where I’d first seen Nora Jagger in the clearing—as much as I told myself not to, I couldn’t help but look back.
My heart just about drained and imploded: at the very moment that I turned, the Bitch was picking Thomas up off the ground, handling him awkwardly to the point of carelessness—to have to give up your child was bad enough, but to have to leave it with a monster? Who knew what would happen to the little guy? No matter how innocent now, one day he might turn out like her, even carry on where she left off . . . And I couldn’t help but reflect on the fate of Arturo’s heart, how the Bitch was snatching everything from us that we loved and taking it with her to damnation.
Lena tugged me on, not aware why I’d hesitated, that I was going through a thousand agonies. I tried to pick up the pace, to follow her lead, but couldn’t resist one final glance back . . . Jesus! What I saw froze me colder than the fridges of Hell. At last I knew why that woman had wanted Thomas and it was just as the Doc had feared: not to fulfill her maternal instincts, not to raise him as her own—but to destroy any hope he represented, any possibility of a better world.
She had that familiar blue-and-white bundle raised up over her head like some ceremonial priestess about to commit a sacrifice, I opened my mouth to scream out in protest, but before any sound came out, she smashed the little guy down onto the ground, stamping on him for good measure.
“Nooo!” I wailed. “Jesus, no—!”
“Keep going!” Lena urged, trying to make me move faster.
“Lena! . . . Oh my God!” I cried, not knowing how to tell her what I’d just seen, but she just kept pulling me on, even trying to increase my speed. “No!”
“It’s not Thomas,” she suddenly announced.
“What?” I gasped, so shocked I almost stopped in my tracks.
“Keep moving! It’s not Thomas.”
Again I hesitated and this time I was abruptly yanked on. “Who is it?”
“No one! A plucked pheasant Sheila had hanging up. Thomas is with her—hopefully hidden away by now.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—I mean, I thought I’d ridden out the “dumb old big guy” title but I immediately bestowed it upon myself again. I guess I’d been so unsettled by everything that’d happened things had passed me by without being properly questioned. Had I really imagined Lena would give up Thomas like that—for any reason at all? And once I’d reaffirmed that, it was so obvious what’d gone on, I couldn’t imagine why I’d assumed anything else.
When she’d gone into the shelter, Lena had done the switch, wrapping Thomas’ favorite blanket around the bird and leaving the little guy where he was for Sheila to retrieve later (she must’ve given him a little something with his feed to make sure he kept quiet). Even breaking that branch at the edge of the clearing had been deliberate—dammit, I’d thought it’d been unusually clumsy for her! She needed to make sure the Bitch followed, and once she was drawn away, Sheila could hide Thomas somewhere safe.
It was a simple but brilliant plan—for sure it fooled me—and it would’ve worked perfectly if it hadn’t been for one thing: Lena hadn’t known that the Bitch would cripple me, that she was gonna damn near break my leg and make it impossible for me go anywhere in a hurry.
I did all I could to keep going, to respond to Lena’s urging, moving faster than I would’ve thought possible and was doing my leg any good at all. But I couldn’t keep it up for long and soon I noticed her repeatedly looking over her shoulder, knowing Nora Jagger would be after us, that she’d chase us down and tear us both to pieces.
We made our way into the thicker part of the forest, doing everything we could not to leave any clues, me checking every time I felt more blood oozing down my leg and getting Lena to scuff over the stain, but it wasn’t foolproof by any means.
It didn’t take us long to realize we were hopelessly lost, and worse still, with an overcast sky there was no sun to give us any idea of even the general direction we should be heading.
My leg was so painful that eventually we had to stop for a while, scrambling deep into some bushes, both of us grateful for the rest.
“The more lost we are, the harder we are to find,” I told Lena, though I wasn’t entirely sure that made any sense—even to me.
“Maybe she gave up and went back to see what happened to the Bodyguard?”
“That’s not gonna improve her mood, is it?” I said, trying to make a bit of a joke, but it wasn’t exactly humor material.
Lena paused for a moment, as if she thought she’d heard something, eventually deciding it was nothing to worry about. “She probably wouldn’t bother going back—they’re not going to look for us at night, and we could be miles away by morning.”
Despite her begging me to leave it a little longer, I insisted on dragging myself up and getting moving; along the way looking for anything that might be familiar, that might help us find our way back to the Commune. For sure I wasn’t in very good shape; a couple of times missing my step, almost toppling over and bringing her down with me, yet again having to stop, to wait a while for the pain to subside.
“Can you manage?” Lena asked.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I replied, though she didn’t look that reassured.
From there on she insisted I took the “easiest” route, even if it meant veering off course—smoothing out the hills as much as I could—but actually, the terrain was getting that bit more rugged, with sheer drops in places. I came across this deer track that ran right along the top of a ridge, though it was so narrow that in trying to make sure she had enough room, I almost went over the edge myself.
“Clancy,” she complained, “I’ll go first; you hold onto my shoulders and direct me.”
“Okay, okay,” I said, reminded of
that time on the tandem when she’d “steered” me. “We’re a team.”
She stopped for a moment and kissed me on the cheek. “And always will be.”
I don’t know how far we went like that—me steering Lena, looking for the easiest route down so we could get over to the other side, still having no idea what direction we were going in—but suddenly I felt her shoulders go as rigid as stone.
“What?” I whispered.
“Shhhh!”
She just stood there, a frown gathering on her face, her sightless eyes flicking left and right as if panicked by what they couldn’t see. My hearing might not be as good as hers, but it wasn’t long before I caught it too: the familiar slurp-slurp of those bionic legs, Nora Jagger was coming.
I pushed Lena on, trying to get up more speed, but we both knew it was hopeless; how fast those footsteps were closing, she’d catch us in moments. It didn’t leave us with a great deal of choice. I wrapped my arms around Lena, held onto her as tightly as I could and dived over the side.
Jesus, the pain as we tumbled our way down . . . I did what I could to protect my leg, but also had to keep hold of Lena, to stop her from crashing into something. At one point the ground leveled out a little, our rapid rate of descent slowed, and I managed to grab this small tree and stop us both—but no sooner did I try to struggle up, the amount of blood in my boot meant my foot slipped and I went over again.
Lena did what she could to stop me, wildly flailing through the air, but couldn’t locate me and in the end overbalanced herself; the two of us dragging each other down, rolling over and over, bumping from side to side and finally coming to a shuddering and painful halt against an outcrop of rock.
“Stay still,” I hissed, though in truth, neither of us was up to moving.
Way up above we heard the Bitch’s pneumatic stride, bounding along the ridge as if setting up tremors. God help us—a man who couldn’t walk and a woman who couldn’t see being pursued by that aberration.
We stayed there long after her footsteps had faded to nothing, just in case she returned. “Let’s go,” Lena eventually urged, struggling up. “She’ll be back.”
She was right, of course, and you didn’t have to be a genius to work out why. The Bitch’d been able to track us by the occasional drop of my blood that we’d missed—once she saw there were no more she’d start to work her way back ’til she found where we’d gone over.
Lena took my hands and went to pull me up, but I wouldn’t let her. “Wait,” I said. “Leave me. Get back to Thomas.” But she just kept pulling, acting as if I hadn’t even spoken. “She’s gonna find us. You know she will.”
Lena paused for a moment, sighing as if she knew it was true, that we had to think about this differently. “Maybe we should stop for the night? She’ll give up once it gets dark. If we head out before dawn, maybe we can get some idea where we are and get back to the Commune before she’s even awake.”
I didn’t pass comment—I mean, it sounded a little optimistic, even half-baked, but one way or another I knew I couldn’t keep walking. Having said that, she took me on a little ways, presumably searching for a place where she felt secure. Occasionally she’d pause for a few moments, listening, going onto her other senses. It must’ve been the best part of a mile before she was finally satisfied.
“Describe it,” she told me.
There wasn’t a lot I could say, most of it I was sure she already knew: the forest was probably denser than anywhere we’d been. In some directions the trees were almost a solid wall, with no space at all between. It was relatively flat apart from a dip in the ground over to one side, but that was about it.
“Okay,” she said to my relief, and I more or less collapsed to the ground.
But even then she hadn’t finished. She went for a walk on her own, going around in circles, exploring the immediate area, presumably leaving nothing to chance in case we had to make a run for it.
After a while she came back and asked me if I was up to moving a little further. I just did it—without asking why—finding the new spot had a bit of a bluff to our back. Maybe it helped her hear better? I dunno; I had no idea and was too tired to ask. I just lay there, hearing the wind ghosting through the trees, the rattle of the forest’s bones, the night slowly cupping its huge hands over us, and somewhere amongst it all I gratefully fell asleep.
It wasn’t sound that woke me, it was sensation: I was suddenly aware of feeling cold, that Lena had left me.
I whispered her name into the dark, wondering if she was taking a leak or something, but the forest felt empty, as if she’d gone.
What the hell? I struggled up, my leg so pained and stiff I almost fell straight back down again. Where’d she gone?
“Lena?” I called into the darkness, but there was no reply.
The trees were so dense, she could’ve rolled over a few feet and I wouldn’t have been able to see her—but there was nothing. I didn’t have a clue what to do, whether to lie back down and wait or what, but I had this really corrosive gut feeling that something was badly wrong.
I must’ve stayed there for a minute or two, waiting, listening, straining to see out into that dark, empty world. Then finally I heard it, dug up by the wind and thrown in my direction—just for a moment, then a few moments more. Jesus Christ—
The Bitch was approaching!
My first thought was to turn and hop away as best I could, even crawl if I had to—but where the hell was Lena? Again I whispered her name into the night, and again there was no reply. Lena, what are you doing?
Those familiar footsteps were constant now, fast approaching in my direction, that sucking slurp-slurp as if she was extracting life with every footprint and leaving nothing in her wake. I could just make out a faint glow, not a flashlight, much less imprecise, and finally I realized it was some kinda screen, that she was using its light to guide her.
I tell ya, I was utterly at a loss. What the hell was going on? Was the disappearance of Lena linked to the arrival of Nora Jagger?
She stopped around about the place where I’d first flopped down, waving her screen back and forth, by the look of it, crouching down, and I guessed she was looking for bloodstains.
And that was when I finally knew where Lena was—and why. Suddenly something came out of that dip in the ground at great speed, leaping at Nora Jagger and knocking her over, the screen flying through the air. There was a cry, a half-mouthed expletive, and I realized what was going on.
I began to hobble over, it occurring to me as I did that I’d unknowingly been part of setting the trap, that where I’d lain before I’d left blood for Nora Jagger to discover, that Lena had been lying in hiding, waiting just for that. I could hear a struggle going on, a lot of swinging and missing maybe, but apart from that first blow, no one appeared to have really landed one yet.
The one other thing Lena had going for her was that just like the kids, she was fast (as I’ve found out to my cost on a couple of occasions). Once she’s made up her mind what she’s gonna do, it happens in the blink of an eye. Neither the Bitch or the Bodyguards were that quick, presumably ’cuz of the prosthetics, ’cuz they were built for strength rather than speed.
As I got closer I could hear Nora Jagger goading Lena, calling her little maid, telling her to “take her best shot,” and almost immediately I heard the first full-blooded blow from what I guessed was a branch. The Bitch started to laugh, probably just to prove she hadn’t been hurt, though I wouldn’t’ve minded betting she had been.
I couldn’t see exactly what was happening but I had this sense it was pretty much what I’d imagined: power against speed. You could hear the swish of the Bitch’s leg through the air, then nothing—as if she’d fired a blank—but immediately after there would be a sudden retaliatory smack where Lena got in her reply.
I got to within a few yards of them, close enough to be able to make out these two dark shapes facing each other, dodging and ducking, Lena with her stick held high, the Bitch repeatedly leap
ing and slicing through the air with those lethal legs.
I was about join in, see how I could help, when Lena stopped me. “Go back!” she shouted, and Nora Jagger chuckled as if I’d made a tactical error and I retreated as fast as I could.
As much as I wanted to, the truth was, not only was I injured, not only was this an environment that suited Lena and not me, more than anything, she plainly saw it as her fight. Her revenge for what the Bitch had done to us all: threatening Thomas, enslaving me, killing the Doc and Gigi, all those other people she dispensed with, including, of course, little Arturo—though did she but know it, what she was so desperately trying to do was to extinguish that little guy’s heart all over again.
There was another flurry of blows and a real hard smack, like God clapping his hands, and I saw the bigger of those two shadows staggering backward, losing her balance and falling over.
I could’ve almost let out a cheer. Lena was on her in a moment, ramming her knee into the Bitch’s gut, wrapping her fingers around her neck, determined to get this over with. She’d somehow managed to pin one of those powerful arms but not the other, and I winced a couple of times when she took really heavy blows from the free prosthetic. Still she managed to maintain her grip, just the same way Sheila had, pressing down, slowly choking the Bitch.
But she got hit again—and again. And I began to see that no matter how determined she was, she couldn’t hold on, that in the end Nora Jagger would just smash her to pulp.
No matter what Lena’d said, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer—but I was too late. The Bitch managed to shove her off, for a moment just lying there, getting her breath back, giving her impacted windpipe a chance to recover, while Lena, maybe fearing it was all over, tried to crawl away. Seconds later Nora Jagger was up and striding after her, kicking her so hard it must’ve felt like she’d got in the way of a discharging cannon.
I shouted out in protest, tried to follow after them, but I was limping so badly, I couldn’t keep up. Lena managed to get to her feet, stumbling across the forest floor with the Bitch chasing after her, intent on finishing her off. I could feel the tension, the world cringing every time another blow was struck, the wait to see if it would be the last. Lena made her miss a couple of times and got in a couple of kicks of her own, but there could be only one end to this contest—or so I thought.