Despite the glasses enabling him to see better, Jake’s cheeks burned from the sandblasting. But he kept his face up. To look down may mean losing his friend forever. The clouds already threatened to consume him completely.
With his heart beating like it was trying to bash free of his chest, Jake pushed on. In the past two years, they’d never been out of one another’s sight. Narrowing his eyes, he kept his focus on Tom. He wasn’t going to let that happen now.
When Tom turned around again, Jake waved his arms in the air. “Tom!” The shouting irritated his itchy throat. Resting his hands on his knees, he bent over double, gasping in between hacking coughs.
Coughing to the point where gritty phlegm lifted up his throat, Jake vomited a bitter mix of bile and mucus. Fighting to catch his breath, he remained bent over, his mouth stretched wide beneath the scarf covering it.
Every time he stood upright, another attack stopped him still. If he lost sight of Tom… He shook his head to banish the thought and continued trying to breathe.
By the time Jake had recovered, Tom was just a silhouette in the storm. Biting down on his lip, he pushed on, his lungs burning, his head spinning.
Having not stopped since leaving the crater, Jake’s legs felt like they’d trebled in weight. Every step sapped his energy. Dizzy and nauseous, he reached his tolerance for looking into the wind, dropped his head and carried on.
The floor evidenced a previously corporate monopolized society. Carrier bags were strewn amongst the wreckage. All of them had different logos. All belonged to the same parent company.
A glance up showed him that Tom’s outline was still there. Just.
With sweat dampening his forehead, the grit clinging to it, Jake looked down again. The floor was dotted with empty beverage cans. There was a variety of flavors and designs. All were owned by one soft drink manufacturer.
Like Tom, Jake kept glancing behind. Although he couldn’t hear their pursuers, that meant nothing. The things following them existed in the shadows. They only made their presence felt when they wanted to.
There was more evidence of their bygone society on the floor—Toys, books, old DVD’s—all of them licensed by the same merchandising giant.
All Patrick Rixon had done with New Reality was enter the consumer marketplace with the best product. The free market economy allowed the strongest to survive and monopolize. At just twenty-three, the German did what his fellow countryman of over a century and a half ago had tried to do—he’d taken over the world.
Sweat ran into Jake’s eyes when he looked up. Blinking several times, he returned his attention to Tom. There was no sign of him slowing down. He must be exhausted.
When Jake tripped, the air left his lungs.
Pain tore into his right shin seconds later and spread through his leg. Rolling onto his back, the jagged ground spiky against his spine, Jake pulled his knees to his chest. Rubbing the point of impact like he was trying to set his leg on fire helped, but only a little.
Looking up, Jake jumped when he saw a sharp steel blade close to his face. Protruding from the ground like a trap, he’d missed it by mere centimeters. The thought of landing on it made his already weak body weaker. How were they still alive in this place?
Shaking the thought away, Jake lifted his head and looked for Tom. He still hadn’t stopped. Then Tom looked back again.
Lifting his upper body to wave his arms in the air, Jake called in a weak voice, “Tom!” He then collapsed from the effort, biting down on his tongue when he hit the hard floor.
With the metallic taste of his own blood running down his phlegmy throat, Jake watched Tom turn around and then continue marching away.
If Jake didn’t get to his feet now, then he’d surely lose him forever.
With sweat itching beneath his clothes, he pushed himself up on his good leg. The injured one pulsed. When he put light pressure on it, his heart fluttered. He expected it to fold beneath him. It didn’t. Pushing down harder hurt more, but it wasn’t broken. There wasn’t time to hang around. Setting off after Tom, Jake now moved with a heavy limp.
If Jake had any chance of catching up with his friend, Tom would have to slow down. Shouting so loud that he shook, Jake called, “Tom! I’m sorry, man. I thought we’d be okay for a while.” The scarf covering his mouth muffled his words, and the need to cough crawled in his throat.
Tom didn’t respond.
“Tom, come on, man, wait up!”
When Tom looked over his shoulder again, Jake shouted, “Come on, Tom! Hear me out, mate.”
The maudlin man slowed down. He then stopped.
When Jake hobbled close enough, he saw the deep frown on his friend’s face.
Looking him up and down, Tom shielded his eyes as he rubbed both temples with the thumb and index finger of one hand. “What have you done to yourself?”
Taking several steps closer, Jake stopped and rested his hands on his knees. His spinning head spiraled as he pulled air into his starved lungs.
After a couple of minutes, Tom made a point of looking at an imaginary watch and then behind them in the direction of the things.
“Sorry, man,” Jake wheezed, his pulse sending disorientating blows to his temples. “Let me get my breath back.” Holding up his index finger, he added, “One more minute.”
While looking past his friend again, Tom spoke in a dry voice, “Been a day for waiting, hasn’t it?”
Ignoring the snarky comment, Jake kept his focus on his breath.
After taking his full minute and then some, Jake stood upright and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “I’m sorry, man.” Drawing another deep breath, he winced at the burn in his lungs. “I really am.” A sharp headache throbbed behind his stinging eyes. The saliva in his parched mouth had turned to a thick and bitter paste.
Watching Tom’s face twist as he pulled a heavy gulp, Jake could only assume the lack of liquid was affecting him in a similar way. When Tom spoke, his voice came out in a croak. “You never listen to me.” He scratched his face, sharp and hard. “Next time, I’m leaving you on your own.” Squinting, he looked behind Jake again.
Twisting to see what his friend was looking at, Jake turned back around and studied his face. “What did you see over the hill?”
Dropping his eyes to the floor, Tom shook his head. “Nothing. I didn’t see anything. I just wanted you to hurry up.”
“Then why did you tell me to not look behind?”
Looking behind yet again, Tom bounced on the spot. “Why did you fuck about so much?”
“What are we running from, Tom?” Jake wasn’t going to drop it.
“What are you talking about?”
His tall friend’s grey eyes were wild, unsettled. “If there was nothing to see behind earlier,” Jake asked, “then why did you stop me looking? Why are we running?”
“I’m not running.” Jabbing a long finger at Jake, Tom sneered. “I just want to be away from you.”
“That’s not it, Tom. You saw them, didn’t you? What did they look like?”
“Stop talking rubbish. I didn’t see anything.”
When Jake didn’t reply, Tom looked away and ground his jaw. After a few seconds, he looked back, his gaunt face locked tight. “Do you appreciate how hard it was for me to stand watch while I worried about you being killed? You were so vulnerable in that bloody crater, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
The scar tissue burned in Jake’s triceps. It had been just over a year, and he could feel the wound as if it were still healing. At the time, it felt like the Bot had taken his arm clean off. Staring straight at his friend, he raised an eyebrow. “I know exactly how it feels, Tom.”