Michael Robertson - New Reality - Truth

It was obvious that his friend didn’t share his optimism.

“Imagine she’s Rory.”

The comment seemed to enrage the man, who growled as he pushed hard into her.

Seizing the opportunity, Jake put everything he had into it. Slowly, the large woman lifted from the ground a centimeter at a time.

The progress was steady until she neared her tipping point. With his hands sinking into her fat arm, sweat running down his forehead and his vision swimming, Jake fought his shaking muscles and dug deep. If he dropped her now, she was never coming back up again.

When the sharp tang of excrement hit him, Jake looked down at the viscous paste rolling down her back and tried to breathe through his mouth.

Gritting his teeth and shoving harder than before, they got the woman past her balance point and she fell away from them. Knowing what was coming, Jake mirrored Tom in stepping away from her and pushed the sunglasses up his sweaty nose.

When Tom shrieked, Jake looked at her exposed back. Hot saliva gushed down his throat as he stumbled backwards. Unable to look away, he stood limp-jawed and stared at it.

Her stomach bucked. What the hell? Turning away did nothing to banish the image that was now burned in her mind’s eye. How did she get in that state? It wasn’t often that she felt inclined to agree with Tom, but killing her probably would be for the best.

The pressure sore was so big it stretched all the way across her sizable lower back. Dark red and glistening with puss and shit, it wept out across her skin. It ran so deep that Jake peered in to see if he could see bone, but after a few seconds, he had to turn away.

Several deep breaths did nothing to calm the nausea rolling through his guts, instead, it filled his sinuses with the smell of excrement and rotting flesh. Not even the fierce wind could dilute the rancid kick. Turning to face the tower, Jake put all of his attention on trying to settle his stomach.

Tom walked around in front of Jake. “There’s nothing we can do for this one. The sore’s too bad.”

“Is there really nothing?”

With a thick frown, Tom threw his hands up. “What do you want from me? It needs to be cleaned. She needs bedside care. We can’t do that.”

Looking back at the glistening wound, the grime of the world sticking to it and quickly turning it matt, Jake shook his head. “She’s in such a bad way though.”

“Exactly! What hope do we have of helping her? We don’t even have clean water.” Raising his voice, Tom looked at the tower. “They could do something about it. All they’d need to do is get one of their Bots to keep it clean.”

Searching his friend’s face, Jake put a hand on his slim shoulder. “Is this about them?”

“Them?”

“The things following us. The things you want to leave a dead body for.”

Straightening his back, Tom gave a sharp shake of his head. “No. It’s the truth. To treat this sore, you need a sterile environment. Look at it, Jake.”

When Jake looked back, the angry red wound throbbed. Was it a trick of his exhausted imagination, or was it really happening?

“It also needs time and constant attention to give it a chance to heal.”

When Jake frowned, Tom said, “I was a paramedic you know. I know what I’m talking about.”

Jake gave a heavy sigh. “How long does she have left?”

“Dunno. The only thing I can say for sure is that there’s nothing we can do in our current predicament to help her.” Before he’d finished the sentence, Tom was looking back in the direction they’d come from. Clapping his hands together, he said, “Right, let’s go.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his friend in this instance, he seemed genuine, but something kept Jake’s feet rooted to the floor. Then he saw it.

Closing the distance between him and the woman, Jake crouched down next to her.

“Jake, I told you, there’s nothing we can do.” Bouncing on the spot, Tom looked behind again. “Come on, let’s go.”

Leaning down so the gash was less than a meter from his face, Jake held his breath. The ground glistened where the sore had wept into the rubble. Wincing as he stretched his arm out, he lifted a particularly slimy and shit-covered brick.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Revulsion washed through him and his grip weakened, but not to the point where he dropped the brick. Flinging it to one side, he picked up the next lump of rubble. It was slipperier than the last, but he moved it aside to reveal the prize. Looking over at Tom, he pointed into the hole. “Coke, Tom, a full can of Coke.”

The can was so slimy with secretions it was like lifting a wet bar of soap. Thinking he had a good grip on it, Jake stood up and it slipped from his grasp.

As he watched it spin through the air, seemingly moving in slow motion, Jake flinched. The can hit the ground, but there was no expected fizz of escaping liquid. Picking it back up, Jake wiped it on his trousers and walked over to Tom. “Want some?”

Staring at the can, Tom screwed his long nose up like he was close to violence. “What’s wrong with you? It’s been sat in her pus for God knows how long. There’s no way I’m drinking that.”

Shrugging, Jake tapped the top of the can. “More for me then.” He popped it open and was surprised to hear the hiss of carbonation. After lifting his scarf up, he raised the glistening can to his mouth. All the while, he could feel Tom’s penetrative stare. Just as it was about to touch his lips, his throat lifted from the inside, rejecting the liquid before he’d even tasted it. “Damn it!” Throwing the can away, he watched the black liquid seep out. “Damn it!”

When Jake looked at Tom, he was met with a tight-lipped smile. “Not that thirsty then, eh?”

“Fuck off, Tom.” Swallowing against the dry and gritty lump in his throat, he said, “Anyway, we drank yesterday, I’m sure we’ll find something else soon.” The look on Tom’s smug face made him want to swing for him, so he looked away, staring into the small hole he’d dug next to the woman.

What he saw made him instantly forget his frustration. “Oh, my God, Tom. Oh, my God.” Before Tom could reply, Jake was next to the woman again, throwing lumps of rubble to the side and digging a bigger hole.

It took about an hour, but by the time Jake had finished, he’d cleared a patch that was about three meters square, and sweat was gushing off him. His previously sore muscles ached again, his shoulders burned from the exertion, and the grit on the wind was sticking to his sweating face. But it was worth every drop of pain and discomfort. Staring back at him from the hole he’d created was a bent and buckled vending machine. It had taken a battering that had clearly spoiled a lot of its contents, but there was still plenty left for them. Pulling his fringe from his forehead, the grit on the wind tapping his glasses, Jake nodded into the hole. “See, Tom, this is our reward for looking after all of those poor gamers. Stick that in your scientific pipe and smoke it.”

Tom shook his head. “Coincidence, Jake.”

Unable to suppress his grin, Jake said, “Karma.”

“Whatever. Any water?”

The bottom row where the water should have been was completely empty. Jake sighed. “No.”

Grinding his jaw, Tom looked at the tower. “And you still think Rixon have nothing to do with this? When was the last time you came across a vending machine that had all of the water removed from it? They’re fucking with us again!”

Wishing he had an argument didn’t make it a reality.

Swiping his hand through the air as if he were batting away a fly, Tom said, “Anyway, just pass me anything without caffeine in it. I’m fed up with drinking Coke. It only makes me thirstier.”