New Reality: Truth (12 page)

***

The tension in her shoulders eased. This world was getting to Tom. Surely he'd give up soon. Especially when he saw what Jake was getting excited about.

Chapter Eighteen

Appearing over the brow of the hill, red-faced and out of breath, hope lifted Tom's features. "Rory?"

Fuck!
Wincing at his friend, Jake remained silent. What could he say to that?

Looking at the prize in Jake's hand, Tom's eyes narrowed. Turning a deeper shade of crimson, he ground his jaw.

Lifting the can, Jake offered a tentative smile. "Peaches! It's a can of peaches."

Pulling his wispy hair from his eyes, Tom's long body sagged, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "I thought you'd found Rory."

"I'm so sorry. I saw the peaches and got excited. I wasn't thinking. Sorry." Getting to his feet, Jake pointed at a rock. "Sit down, Tom. Rest up while I get this open. You can have the first drink from the juice."

Sitting down, Tom kept his head bowed.

Watching his friend for a second or two, Jake then pointed at a sheet of red metal on the floor. "It's the remains of a car. It's not often that we see cars now. Most of them are buried a good few meters below us. This must have been a multistory car park or something." Huge lumps of cracked concrete littered the space, rebar protruding from them at all different angles.

When Tom didn't reply, Jake scratched his head and busied himself with opening the can.

Looking first at the ring-pull, Jake then looked at his twisted and gnarled hands. The past few years had turned them into old roots not capable of once-simple chores.

Gritting his jaw helped him concentrate and block out the pain that nestled in his knuckles. Slipping a long fingernail beneath the ring-pull, Jake lifted it.

"Arghhhh!" White-hot pain tore through his hand.

Standing up, Tom frowned at his friend. "What's up? Are you okay?"

The nail on Jake's finger had snapped far too low and blood was leaking over the top of it. Biting down on his bottom lip, he looked at Tom. "I just snapped my fucking fingernail."

Raising an eyebrow, Tom looked Jake up and down before sitting on his rock, his long body slumping once again.

Sucking his finger for a few seconds, a gritty mix of metallic blood and dirt filling his mouth, Jake held the scarf covering the lower half of his face away and spat on the floor.

Trying to be more cautious this time, he used the nail on his middle finger to tease the ring-pull away from the can. Lifting it to the point where it was just about the pierce the lid, the ring-pull then snapped off. Holding it in a pinch, he looked at it for a minute before glancing over at Tom.

With a sneer wiped across his face, Tom shook his head.

Holding the can up, Jake glared at it. "You're not beating me. Not today!" Throwing it up and catching it again, he looked around.

Dashing it against the concrete seemed like the best option. Raising it above his head, Jake suddenly stopped as his eyes fell on a piece of rebar that protruded from the ground like a spear.
Perfect.

Stepping closer to it, the pain in both of his legs reminding him he was a long way from being healed, Jake lifted the can again. As he brought it crashing down, he heard Tom shout, "Nooooooooooo!"

It was too late.

***

Pulling her knees to her chest, she slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle her scream.

Chapter Nineteen

White-hot pain exploded in Jake's palm, and he roared at the sky, "Arghhhhhhh!" Queasiness sat in his guts as he looked down at his hand impaled on the piece of rebar.

Rushing over, Tom grabbed Jake's chin and lifted his head up. "Just look at me. Don't look down, okay?"

Nodding, Jake bit his bottom lip, but he couldn't help glancing at his hand. The pole it was impaled on had already turned slick with his blood.

Pulling Jake's chin up again, Tom's grey eyes widened. "I said look at me!"

With fire stretching up his forearm like poison was getting into his veins, Jake's breathing ran away with him. "I'm scared, Tom."

Wrapping both hands around Jake's wrist, Tom shook his head. "Don't be. It'll be fine, just keep looking at me." Without warning, Tom yanked Jake's hand free.

The wet squelch ran directly to Jake's knees, and if it wasn't for Tom grabbing him, he'd have hit the floor. When Jake turned his hand over, it looked like stigmata.

Instead of helping him, Tom rescued the bloody can and wrapped his lips around it as he chugged the peach juice. Pulling it away with a satisfied gasp, diluted blood dripping from his chin, Tom burped several times, his tongue pushing from his mouth as he heaved with each one. He then handed the can to Jake. "Drink it, we can't waste the juice."

Taking it with his good hand, Jake drank what was left, his gag reflex desperately trying to reject the sweet and metallic liquid.

It ran out too quickly, and once he'd finished, Jake looked at his hand again as it belched thick and syrupy blood in time with his pulse. With each surge of claret, his hand throbbed. It was hard to see the extent of the damage, but fortunately the pole hadn't passed all the way through.

As blood leaked from the wound, soaking the rocks at his feet, Jake was overcome with dizziness. Looking at Tom, he opened his mouth to call for help, but before he could speak, his legs gave way beneath him and his world went black.

###

Both opening his eyes and coughing at the same time, Jake saw a blur of someone leaning over him. Shouting out, he tried to sit up, but his injured hand gave way beneath him.

Crashing back down against the rubble, Jake crossed his arms in front of his face and cowered behind them. "Please, don't kill me. Please."

The thing grabbed him, and he tried to twist away from it. Then he heard Tom's voice.

"Jake, it's me! It's okay. I'm here, mate, there's nothing to worry about."

Chasing his breath, Jake let Tom help him sit upright and melted into his friend's embrace. Sweating and looking up, he waited for Tom to come into focus. Despite the peach juice, his throat was so dry his word came out as a croak. "Tom?"

"Shhhh, Jake, I'm here, everything's fine."

"How long have you been sitting there?"

Pulling away, Tom rubbed his face and cleared his throat. "For as long as you've been passed out."

Looking into his friend's bloodshot eyes, stress and exhaustion having left trails on his face, Jake gulped. "Thank you for looking after me."

Despite the thick throb running through his hand, Jake was surprised to see it look reasonably normal. Other than being tightly bound by a dirty, and now bloody rag, it looked exactly as it had before he'd skewered it. He'd expected it to be as big as a football.

Scanning the grey sky, Jake frowned. "How long have I been out?"

"A few hours."

Sitting up farther, his world rocking, Jake waited for everything to settle around him as he rode the nauseating wave surging through his guts.

When he finally felt normal again, he picked up the punctured can, his dried blood still on it, and peered inside. Although the can was old and battered, the contents looked brand new.

Retrieving one of the slippery peach slices, Jake lifted his scarf and slipped it into his mouth. The slimy piece of fruit, pregnant with juice, sat on his tongue. When he bit down on it, it released a sweet shot of liquid and Jake groaned.

Turning to Tom, who licked his lips as he watched on, dried blood still on his jowls, Jake held the can in his direction.

Snatching it from his friend, Tom retrieved a peach slice and swallowed it whole. A slight grin lifted one side of his mouth. "Oh my god! That's amazing!"

Taking another piece, Jake ate again and smiled at his friend. "Thanks again for looking out for me, Tom. I say it a lot, but I don't know what I'd do without you around."

When Jake bit the next piece of fruit, an electric pain clattered through his jaw. "Ow!" He grabbed the side of his face.

"You okay?"

Nodding, Jake shifted the remaining piece of peach to the other side of his mouth. "Toothache." While sucking the fruit, Jake looked over to the rebar he'd speared his hand on, and his blood turned cold. "Tom."

"Yeah?"

"You say I was out for a few hours?"

"Well, maybe a little bit longer than a few hours."

Keeping his eyes on the pole, Jake scratched his face. "How much longer?"

"About a day."

"So you slept while you were waiting for me?"

"Yeah. I had to. I'm as knackered as you are. I had to get some rest."

"Did you hear anything in the night?"

"No. Why?"

With a shaky hand, Jake pointed at the rebar. "Have you noticed there's no blood left on the pole?"

Realization dawned on Tom's long face as he stared at the pole and gulped. "There's no blood on the rocks around it either."

Turning his attention to the rebar again, a glossy shine to it as if it had been licked clean, Jake then noticed the line of raised rubble leading away from it.

Speaking in no more than a whisper, Tom said, "They're getting braver, Jake."

***

Opening and closing her hand as if Jake's pain was her own, she watched on. Jake was becoming more observant. Maybe he'd become aware enough to save his own life.

Chapter Twenty

Staring at the floor as they walked, Jake listened to the shifting rubble and howling wind. Both men checked behind frequently.

"I've had enough, Jake."

Stopping, Jake turned to his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"You know what."

When Jake looked at Tom properly --his sunken grey eyes, his ratty beard, his pale skin--a pang of grief gripped his heart.
When did he get so old?

"I've had enough of this life. Of scavenging like animals." Looking away, Tom pointed at a fox walking over the ruined landscape. "Hell, even the animals are doing better than us. We've been living like this for years now." Clenching his jaw, he repeated himself. "Years!"

Putting his good hand on Tom's emaciated shoulder, the sharpness of it made Jake want to withdraw. "But we've come so far."

"Have we? Really? What have we done? We live like tramps, hoping that we'll find some old scrap of food, of anything."

Shaking his head, Jake looked around. "It won't be long before things start growing again. Nature will beat this."

"You've been saying that since Rixon destroyed our city. Every day we look for signs of life, but there isn't any. This place is sterile. The only way to survive is to put a headset on." Freeing his ponytail, Tom battled the wind to retie it again.

Just watching his friend's wincing movement stimulated the ache in Jake's arthritic joints. "They want you to think New Reality's the only option, but life cycles, things have to change, you can't stop nature." Staring into the distance, Jake's eyes lost focus. "It will always win out."

"We all have our own reality, right?"

Ignoring the question, Jake raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure you just need a rest."

"I need more than a rest."

Jake didn't reply.

"The only reality we have in this world is our own, right? The life I perceive and live is my truth."

A particularly nasty twinge ran through Jake's hand as he nodded.

"We see the world through our own eyes. Experience it through our own senses."

"What about the shared reality we experience from interacting with one another?" Jake asked.

"We still experience that through our own receptors and our own viewpoint, regardless of whether it's shared or not. It's only real because I perceive it as real. Everything is subjective. If I plug into the game and experience a new reality, then why can't I choose to accept that as my truth?"

Looking away, Jake caught a glimpse of the first gamer he'd seen in days. Dragging Tom over to him, Jake kicked the man as hard as he could. It felt like kicking a crash mat, and it aggravated the sharp pain in his right shin. "Look at it, Tom," he said, purposefully omitting a gender. "You want to be like that? Inanimate? Stupid? Is that the existence you want? Is that the reality you'd choose?" The sharp tang of shit hit Jake as he waited for his friend to reply.

"Look at us; we're walking skeletons that look like we'll snap at any moment. At least he's well fed."

"He's a slug."

"In our reality he is, but not in his. He's probably relaxing on a beach while a beautiful woman oils him down. He probably looks like a movie star in his world. Isn't that all that matters?"

Another burning wave gripped Jake's palm. Pulling air through his gritted teeth, he shook his head. "But it's not real."

"What is, Jake? Look around. We live like cockroaches in a world where Rixon is God. We have no food. No shelter. No women. If this is living, I'd rather play New Reality, I'd rather create my own destiny."

"But New Reality can't give us the social interactions that are so important to us as people. Don't you believe in an interconnected collective consciousness?"

Tom sighed, his face hanging to reveal thick bands of white beneath his irises. "I'm a scientist, Jake, I don't believe in the same things as you."

"But how do you know it works? How do you know the headset will respond to your desires?" Lifting his scarf, Jake spat grit from his mouth. "What if it responds to your nightmares? What if you feel trapped and can't escape? You can't take the headset off again because you won't know you have it on." Imploring his friend with raised palms, the action throwing another sharp sting through his wounded hand, Jake lifted his eyebrows. "So how can you know, Tom? How?"

"How do
you
know everything will work out fine if I stay here?"

"Faith."

"In what? Rixon?"

"No, faith that I can carry on until things change."

"What about your teeth?"

"What about them?"

"The toothache that's growing at the back of your mouth."

Running his tongue over his back teeth, Jake flinched at the jagged pain. "They'll be okay."

"Have you ever had toothache? It's like your brain's melting. What will you do with no painkillers? That's if you don't die of thirst before that." Tom glanced behind them.