Michael Robertson - New Reality - Truth

Tom didn’t reply.

Pushing on, dabbing his forehead, his eyes already stinging from the sweat and grit that had run into them, Jake stumbled on a raised lump of rubble. Sharp pains ran up his legs as he fought for balance. “Walking over this shit is doing my bloody head in.” Turning around again, he saw Tom had stopped. It was the perfect excuse to do the same. Resting his hands on his knees, he hunched over and drew air into his lungs.

When Jake looked up, he saw Tom glance down the hill and then back to the patch of bones on the floor by his feet. With wide eyes, he repeated the action, lingering slightly longer on bones.

“What have you seen, Tom?”

Without replying, Tom walked up the hill towards him.

“Tom? What’s going on, man? What have you seen?”

Still no reply.

When Tom was next to him, Jake grabbed his skinny arm. Pulling his friend towards him, he said, “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

There was a shake running through Tom as he looked down the hill again. “I hadn’t thought about it until now.”

“Thought about what? What are you talking about?”

With his face as white as the bleached calcium surrounding them, Tom shivered. “The patches of bones. Why we keep coming across areas littered with them. I’d used it as a chance to educate you on which bone was which, but I didn’t see the obvious.” Losing focus, he rubbed his chin. “I didn’t see the bigger picture.”

The ground shifted beneath Jake again, and he had to throw his arms out to maintain his balance. “Come on, man, spit it out before I fall back down this bloody hill.”

Smacking his own head with the heel of his palm, Tom seemed lost in his thoughts. “Why didn’t I see it? I’m such an idiot.”

Before he could restrain himself, Jake shook him. “What’s going on?”

“The patches of bones, Jake.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“So many bones in one place, then none for miles, then another patch.”

“And?”

“Jesus, Jake, isn’t it obvious? We’re stood in the aftermath of a feeding frenzy.”

Jake’s blood turned cold. If he were honest with himself, he’d been ignoring that same nagging thought. But with Tom saying it so directly, it was unavoidable. From his elevated vantage point, the path they’d taken up the hill looked very different. Each pile of bones had ridges leading away from them like the spokes of a wheel. Ridges made by burrowing creatures. Ridges like the one he was currently stood on.

Jumping away from it, Jake continued looking down the hill. On closer inspection, he saw scratches on some of the lumps of concrete closest to the bones. Scratches much like the ones he saw on the vending machine.

Images flicked through his mind. Flesh being torn free. Gnashing jaws. Dripping blood. “Tell me what you saw chasing me, Tom. Tell me what we’re up against.” Tell me what kept me awake last night .

Tom shook his head. “We need to keep moving.”

Looking down the hill again, his view still no better than about fifty meters, Jake felt the strength drain from his legs. Could he keep going? “Do you think they’re following us?”

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Tom grimaced as if waiting around was causing him physical pain. “Come on, Jake. We need to go.”

Flicking his head up, Jake held his breath for a second. “Did you just hear that? It sounded like shifting rubble.”

What little color Tom had in his skin vanished. Shaking his head, he set off up the hill again.

“Are they following us, Tom? They could have been on our heels for days and we wouldn’t see them through this bloody storm.”

“Why do you think I want to keep moving?” Tom called over his shoulder.

Looking at the bones again, Jake’s sinuses were suddenly alive with the metallic tang of blood. He could almost taste it himself as if he were part of their ritual. It was like the essence of the feast hung in the air.

Covering his mouth and nose, Jake looked down the hill one last time. He then bent over to pick up a steel pole. Looking at the jagged end from where it had broken free, he tossed it on the floor, the loud clang making Tom spin around. If they wanted to attack them, they would. Carrying a stupid pole would just slow him down.

Spinning around, Jake followed his friend.

Frowning, she watched on. It had taken Jake a long time to recognize the piles for what they were. Did he even see the scratch marks on the bones? They’d been damaged by sharp nails resting on them as they were picked clean of every inch of flesh.

Maybe that’s how Tom should go? Eaten alive, his throat torn out first so he couldn’t scream. Clenching her jaw, she imagined the pressure of her bite breaking his windpipe. It would be his birthday soon. That could be his gift.

A strange sense crept into Jake’s dreams, a nagging feeling that he was being watched. That they were watching him. Opening his eyes, he gasped when he saw Tom staring down at him, his long face just inches away. Scrabbling backwards, the rough ground biting into his back, he breathed heavily. “What is it, Tom? What’s wrong?”

The bags beneath Tom’s eyes were packed and his skin was pale. “We need to go.” He looked behind. “We need to go now.”

Swallowing back the funky taste in his mouth, his sticky saliva doing nothing to dilute it, Jake sat up. Squinting against the ache in his sinuses, he rubbed below his eyes to try and ease the congestion. Despite the scarf covering his mouth, the fine grit in the air found a way up his nose and left him permanently bunged up, especially when he first awoke. The only thing he’d been able to smell in the past few months was the gamers’ shit. “Right, calm down and tell me what’s happened.”

Standing to his full height accentuated just how much weight Tom had lost. His clothes hung from him like old rigging clinging to a mast. Scratching his head with a shaking hand, he looked around, his eyes not settling on any one spot. “Just trust me, we need to go now.”

Grimacing as he got to his feet, his shins on fire, his hips burning, Jake found himself already staring at his friend’s back. “Wait up, man. Just tell me what’s going on.”

There was no response from the tall man, who continued to walk away.

Rubbing his face to try and banish the effects of sleep, Jake looked to where Tom had sat during the night.

Gooseflesh sprang up on his arms.

He lost his breath.

His legs shook.

The line ran back to where they’d come from, a livid scar of raised rubble.

The dust clouds hid its beginning.

Breathing so hard he was close to vomiting, Jake finally caught up with Tom. A headache crushed his eyeballs, his head spun, stars sat in his line of sight, and his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like it would crack at any moment.

Swallowing again did nothing to ease his parched throat, but it helped him find his words. “Stop!” After several heavy breaths, he added, “Please?”

Stopping, Tom turned to face his friend, occasionally glancing behind as he waited for Jake to catch his breath.

“What happened last night?”

A frown crushed Tom’s face, but he didn’t reply.

Taking another breath, Jake pointed back to where they’d come from. “I saw the line of rubble.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, stop mugging me off. I looked where you were sat and saw the line of lifted rubble that led directly to it.”

Tom didn’t reply.

“When I was keeping watch the other night, something started scrabbling around beneath me.”

The frown on Tom’s face was replaced by a drawn look of horror.