Michael Robertson - New Reality - Truth

Keeping his hand on Tom, Jake waited for him to speak again.

“He said he was going to use the headset …” breathe, “…to take him to Disney World. We’d never been.” Several gulps later and Tom spoke with a weak voice. “He was desperate to go.”

As Tom broke into another coughing fit, Jake could see he was tempering his hacking barks. The action was clearly jarring his hip.

“He was so excited, Jake.” Shaking his head, Tom growled, “Then he put a fucking headset on.”

Jake didn’t reply.

“I knew it was a bad idea the second the straps closed around the back of his head, but it was too late by then.”

“It was horrible to watch people put the headsets on,” Jake agreed. His vision glazed as he relived the experience. “I remember the initial hit, or ‘the set-up process’ as Rixon called it, and how the users fell twitching to the floor. It was like watching people overdose on heroin. It’s a wonder so many people still put a headset on after witnessing that.” Sighing, the grit on the air still stinging his eyes, Jake looked at the Rixon Tower.

Tom’s voice broke when he said, “I shouldn’t have let them put the headsets on at the same time, but they were so excited about the prospect and wanted to do it together. I lost them both in one hit. Rixon have taken everything from me.”

“We’ll find him, Tom, and we’ll find a way to get the headset off.”

When Tom lifted his glasses, Jake saw the light had left his eyes. “Like we did his mother you mean? Do I need to remind you we killed her? Every time I close my eyes, I see the image of her head bleeding into the rock.”

“There must be a way to do it.”

“If there is, we haven’t found it. This is the end of the road for me, Jake.” Resting his head against a slab of concrete, he stared up at the grey sky. “Besides, even if we do find him, what will happen? I’ll roll him over to ease his pressure sores?” Tom laughed, wincing again at the pain of movement. “Or rather,” he paused to catch his breath, “I’ll watch you roll him over. Or try to roll him over. He’s probably huge by now and you only have one good hand. We’re a pair of useless cripples, Jake.”

Jake remained mute.

“We’ll then spend days trying to work out a way to get his headset off.” Snapping his body tight, Tom’s face reddened as he groaned again. “We’ll be lucky if we don’t die of thirst while we’re waiting, or get shot.” After a pause, he added, “Or get eaten by that horrible clickety-click thing.”

Desperate to look behind him, Jake fought the urge. “We’ll get the headset off, Tom.”

“Let’s say we do—” Letting out a sudden scream, Tom flipped onto his side.

Once he’d recovered, he lay there panting. “Then what? He’ll be a slug and we’ll have to spend the next few months, maybe years, running through physio with him. He won’t be able to walk.” Grunting again, his red face turned beetroot and he took shallow breaths. “None of his muscles will work, so we’ll have to feed him and keep him hydrated. We can barely do that for ourselves.”

Jake wished he had something to say.

“I realized months ago that it was too late for Rory.” He coughed. “I’ve thought about it during every waking moment, and I know there’s nothing I can do for him. I don’t know why I’ve kept going.”

“Because some part of you believes. It must do.”

Shaking his head, Tom said, “No. I don’t think that’s it.” The tall man then fell silent and his head lolled to the side.

After a minute or so had passed, Jake nudged him.

Tom continued as if he hadn’t paused at all. “I think it’s because I wanted to make amends for leaving him.” Staring at the sky, he added, “Twice.”

“You had to leave him. You had to find a way to take the headset off. They would have shot us if we’d gone back a second time.”

“I should have been realistic. I should have just put a bloody headset on years ago.” Reaching up, he grabbed Jake’s left hand. “I’m done, Jake.”

A wash of hot grief flushed Jake’s face. “No, Tom.”

Squeezing Jake’s hand, Tom looked up. “Please just get me a headset.”

With his bottom lip bending out of shape and heat stinging his eyeballs, Jake kept a hold of his friend’s hand but looked away.

“I can’t even walk, Jake.”

Drawing a stuttered breath, Jake turned back to Tom. Staring at his broken form for a short time, he then dropped a gentle nod. “Okay.”

Speaking in a low murmur, she clasped her hands before her. “Good boy, Jake.”

With a grin stretching wide on her face, she sat back and watched Jake get to his feet. Finally! They were going to separate.

The slight rise and fall of Tom’s chest was the only sign he was still of this world. Other than the occasional groan and whimper, Tom had been virtually inanimate all night.

“It’s morning now, mate,” Jake said. “Sorry I haven’t left sooner, but you know what it’s like traveling at night. I’ll find you a headset, pal, just hang on in there.”

Grabbing the cold pylon with his left hand, Jake’s arms shook as he pulled himself to his feet. The effort increased his heart rate. The throb in his palm reminded him of his infection.

Keeping a hold of the metal structure, Jake adjusted to the onslaught of the wind, the deafening gales wrapping his head in blusterous chaos. Turning around, he searched behind. There was still no sign of the thing following them. Where had it gone?

Looking down at his tall friend, Jake sighed. “See you later, mate.” He then ducked through a gap in the metal skeleton, every muscle in his malnourished body screaming in burning protest.

Straightening his back once he was through the other side, Jake groaned as a series of clicks ran down his spine.

Filling his lungs as best as he could through the scarf covering his mouth, he rolled his shoulders and tried to block out the pulse in his palm. The angry throb sent shards of electric pain into his wrist.

Shaking the thought from his mind, he looked one last time for the line of rubble that had been following them. There was nothing there at present.

Facing the fierce wind, he dipped his head into it and began his wobbly ascent out of the valley.

With nothing to pull himself up by and what little energy he had draining from his legs, it took Jake about fifteen minutes to shuffle halfway up the hill. Stopping, he pulled shallow breaths into his tight lungs. The effort made stars swim in his vision.

A mixture of grit and perspiration stung his eyes. Wiping his brow, he searched the valley floor for signs of raised rubble. Nothing. It would have been foolish to believe the thing had gone. Jake shook his head. “Just bloody show yourself.”

When he saw Tom writhe with palsied movement, a frown darkened Jake’s view. How far would he have to walk to find a headset? What if he didn’t find one at all? There would come a point where turning back wouldn’t make sense. How long would it be before he wrote his best friend off? What if the thing—?

Something caught Jake’s eye. A line of raised rubble. It raced towards Tom, kicking up bricks and stones as it sped across the wasteland. Grabbing the bottom half of his face with both hands, Jake chewed the inside of his mouth. “Oh, no. Fuck, no!”

With his pulse racing, Jake searched his surroundings for something that could help Tom. There was nothing useful. Looking back up, he saw the thing wasn’t stopping.

“Tom!” he cried. His word was carried away on the strong wind like an empty crisp packet.

“Tom!” The shouting hurt his dusty throat. Swallowing a muddy gulp did nothing to relieve it.