In Constant Fear (27 page)

“Nick . . . I gotta tell you something,” I said, and the others were bowing their heads, partly out of respect, partly out of embarrassment.

Funny how we're all animals at heart, how we so often revert to instinct at times of stress. He took one look at my face, another at those around him, then leaned forward and pulled back the covers, staring at Miriam's lifeless face.

The odd thing was, he didn't react at all, almost as if he'd been through it so many times he couldn't do it again.

“I did wonder when she wouldn't eat,” he said eventually.

I told him how sorry I was, and everyone echoed my words. Jimmy patted him on the shoulder, while Nick just stood there as if he couldn't bear to be the center of this particular attention.

“That thing killed her,” he said grimly, “it made her try to do things she wasn't capable of.”

For a while we all stood in silence, looking out from the top of that hill almost as if some kinda ceremony had already begun.

“Thing is, Nick . . .” I started to say.

“I know,” he told me. “I'll bury her.”

We all helped. Jimmy didn't have any proper digging tools, but we managed to batter and scrape a bit of a dip with hammers and screwdrivers and cover Miriam's body with a shallow layer of soil,
then piled on as many rocks we could find. For some reason we press-ganged the Doc into saying a few cultured words: a bit of a poem, something less of a prayer. As for the bed, well, bearing in mind we were being followed and not wanting to risk leaving any kinda clue, we dragged it to the steep side of the hill and pushed it over.

I had to almost pull Nick away. I don't think it was so much grief—there'd be plenty of time for that later; it was more that he felt lost. He'd been at Miriam's side for so long. Not a minute had gone by without him being aware of her presence, her needs, and suddenly all that was gone—he was finally free, but it looked like it was the very last thing he wanted to be.

We descended the hill and made our way out onto the plain, moving a whole lot quicker, though ironically, with so few trees around, Lena had no points of sound reference and started to struggle. Lile offered to take Thomas, but the old girl looked so weary, Doc Simon said he would. There was a bit of a pregnant pause, Lena looking that bit unsure, but I stepped in before it became too obvious. The look of disappointment on the Doc's face was there for everyone to see except the one person it might've influenced.

I had to warn Gordie and Hanna to be careful where they rode the tandem, pointing out the clumps of grass they needed to avoid in case they ended up going into a bog.

There was still a slightly subdued, almost guilty, atmosphere between them, presumably from the continuing hangover from Gigi's disappearance and death, though maybe Miriam's passing had put that into some kinda morbid context. For sure Hanna blamed herself; if she hadn't started a relationship with Gordie, maybe Gigi wouldn't have got so upset and done what she did? I had to talk to her, dismiss that as nonsense—I mean, you start playing that game, you can pretty much trace every single death since the beginning of Time back to yourself one way or another.

For the rest of the day we plodded steadily on, the fact that we could now see for some distance prompting all of us to take the occasional look back, keeping it discreet, no one wanting to alarm
the others. She had to be following, she had to be back there somewhere, and maybe that Shadow-Maker was overhead letting her know exactly where we were?

The others made the same mistake we had the first time we made that journey: seeing the hills in the distance and assuming they were a lot closer than they were. Yet finally, as their spirits started to fade with the light, they accepted the fact that we wouldn't reach them 'til morning, and the next of those lone trees we came to, we stopped for the night.

Jimmy's stack of techno junk had shrunk a little during the day. A couple of times he'd had to bite the bullet, decide what
really
wasn't essential and throw it away, though I'd insisted on him burying or hiding it. On both occasions Lile had given him a real hard time, telling him to get rid of it all, that nothing good had ever come of it, which, though unfair, was pretty much her standard response. Hanna and Gordie had leaned the tandem up against the tree and draped a blanket over it, creating a shelter; the Doc was the first to take advantage. Meanwhile, Nick just sat where he was, apparently oblivious of whether he was under cover or not.

I took one last, long look behind us through the thickening light, and seeing no one following, settled down with Lena, the two of us making a kinda oyster in which Thomas was the pearl. I was real grateful the little guy was in one of his good moods, chuckling away when I tickled him, complaining only the once, which was to be fed.

I noticed the Doc was using his case as a pillow, not, I'm sure, 'cuz it was that comfortable, more 'cuz of how much value he attached to it, that he couldn't bear to lose physical contact even for a moment. Nick was still sitting on his own, staring into nothingness, and I gestured for him to join us, that he'd be more comfortable. He never replied but did shuffle across. I felt for the guy, I really did. No matter how his and Miriam's relationship had worked, you knew that it had, that they'd been happy together. To think that the last real act he'd seen her perform was to try to kill him . . . mind you, hadn't I been on the brink of doing the same to Lena and Thomas?

I've no idea when I finally fell asleep, only that I woke up 'cuz something had disturbed me. I lay there for a while, listening intently, terrified it might be the approach of the Bodyguard. I couldn't hear a thing apart from all the sawing and wheezing going on around me, but something had definitely jolted me awake. There was a sudden slight breeze, stronger than earlier, the leaves on the branches above us starting to shake . . .
Oh shit!

I nudged Jimmy awake, putting my hand on his mouth, not wanting him to alarm the others, but he came from such a deep place, I damn near frightened him to death. Eventually I helped him up and over to a spot a few yards away where the other couldn't hear us.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“It's up there,” I whispered.

“What is?” he asked, plainly grumpy at being woken up.

“Shhh! It's coming back!”

We both stood there, the leaves of the tree trembling, almost as if they were also afraid.

“Feel it?” I asked.

“The wind?”

“No!”

“I didn't feel anything.”

Gradually the leaves calmed and stilled and we were left standing in the night. Jimmy sighed and turned to go back to bed, but I hadn't finished. “The day Gigi's body dropped out of the sky—”

“Yeah?” he said, a little impatiently.

“—it came outta nowhere.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“It just suddenly appeared in midair.”

A waning moon and slight cloud cover was more than enough light to see the deep frown form on his face. “I don't get you,” he finally admitted.

I took a deep breath, knowing what this was gonna sound like. “I think she was thrown outta something invisible.”

At that his frown turned to more a look of astonishment. “
Invisible?
”

“Yep,” I replied, with real certainty.

“Come on, Big Guy,” he said. “There's been a lot of new things invented since I was sent over to the Island, but invisible planes? I don't think so.”

“I was looking up when it happened. The body was just suddenly there.”

“It was dropped from high altitude—it took you a while to spot it.”

I stood there, firmly shaking my head. “That's what keys us.”

For a while he just stood there, like he was being polite, but it was clear from the yawning his tiredness was getting the better of him. “Sorry, Big Guy,” he said at last, “not cool, I know, but I really need to sleep. I got all that stuff to carry, and Lile's gonna need my help to get up those hills.”

He left me where I was and returned to his spot next to Delilah. For a few moments I stayed put, waiting for whatever was up there to return, concerned that, despite what the Doc'd said, it was searching for me to apply that final touch. At last, with no further sense of it, I headed back to Lena and Thomas.

I hadn't been paying much attention to the land—far too busy looking up at the sky—but just before I sat down I took one last along the horizon, the line of distant hills that we'd descended that morning.

Ah, shit . . .
Shit!
Halfway down, I could just make out this square smudge of light. It was her, of course—the Bitch. Obviously she had a fair idea where we were, and now was slowly but surely catching up.

The following morning I got everyone up and fed real early so we could set out as it was getting light, hoping to steal a march on Nora Jagger, to put a bit of extra distance between us. I took Thomas, leaving Lena to move that bit more freely on her own, though once we started to climb the hills and there were trees for her to bounce sound off, she was fine again. Delilah, on the other hand, was slowing us right down, that long gray stick really starting to puff, withering like a tree that couldn't get enough water to its extremities. I had no choice but to hand Thomas back and reluctantly carry Jimmy's techno so he could give her an arm to hang onto.

The other advantage of being back amongst trees, of course, was cover, so we couldn't be seen—but it worked both ways: the Bitch and her Bodyguard could be closing on us and we wouldn't know 'til the last moment, which was, I guess, why all of us couldn't stop glancing over our shoulders every few seconds.

I was just starting to field a few complaints about how far it was, how hard I was pushing them, when we crested yet another hill and I saw the smoke of the Commune in the next valley.

“Is that it?” Hanna asked, like the others, noticeably hanging on my answer.

“I reckon.”

There was a general sigh of relief and Gordie leapt on the tandem, waiting for Hanna to get on the back.

“Whoa! Whoa!” I cried, remembering how some of the villagers were on the highly-strung side. “They're not gonna be expecting us. See that thing come hurtling down the hill with you two on it, you'll frighten them to death.”

Gordie grunted and got off, resuming pushing the tandem, not noticing that Hanna was still on the back, quietly giggling to herself.

At the top of the next hill we all paused as we caught our first sight of the Commune. Even from what little I could see, it was obvious it'd grown since we were last there.

“Don't look much,” Delilah grumbled, plainly of a mood to do little else.

“Maybe,” I commented, “but just at the moment, it's the safest place we can possibly be.”

Delilah took the point, taking yet another glance behind us; the gesture infectious and copied by everyone except Lena.

Believe it or not, it was Lena who led us down—I guess once she commits something to memory, that's it. I followed along behind, feeling a little ridiculous with all that junk I was carrying, every few steps tempted to just toss the stuff away.

“How's it looking?” she asked.

“A lot more people than before,” I told her, “but, yeah, still pretty relaxed.”

We'd only emerged a few yards out of the tree line before the cry went up, the shouts of welcome, calls of “They're back!” Though I didn't think it was so much for us as the little guy Lena was carrying.

Isobel was the first to come running across at speed and with an accompanying screech of excitement, like a jet engine, over and over beginning the sentence, “
Could I . . . Could I, please . . .
” 'til Lena gave in and let her hold Thomas for a few moments.

Sheila appeared looking like she'd broken off from yet another workout, all glowing and glistening, saving a special greeting for Jimmy. In fact, I gotta say, between us, what with all the shouting and excitement, we created quite a Mardi Gras.

Gordie was unable to resist showing off the Typhoon Tandem, riding it around in circles, making an obstacle course of the huts and shelters, Isobel running behind him laughing hysterically. Hanna undoubtedly added a few more to her fan club just by being what she was, while the Doc and Nick kinda kept their distance, receiving the occasional curious look, I guessed 'cuz they weren't joining in with everything that was going on.

Sheila invited us to eat, chivvying Isobel away when she asked to hold the baby again, and there we were, all of the gang sitting in a circle around her fire. I told her exactly what was going on, that we were on the run and Nora Jagger couldn't be that far behind us. I also offered to keep moving if she wanted us to, if she thought we might bring trouble down on them.

“We're all here for the same reason,” she said, gazing around. “Clustered under the protection of a rogue satellite. It had to happen one day. I'm just grateful it's taken so long.”

I took a bit more of a studied look around: the Commune had probably doubled in size from when we were last there, and again, it was mostly society's more vulnerable who'd sought out its shelter; there was even a couple in wheelchairs, though God knows how they'd made it.

“It's an SPZ,” Sheila said, chuckling when I looked a little mystified. “Satellite Protection Zone.”

“Can you communicate with it?” Jimmy asked her.

“Nope. Not yet.”

He thought for a moment. “Any juice?”

“Small generator. Haven't got a lot of gas, but you're welcome to it.”

Jimmy was obviously thinking through what his options were. “Depends how long they take to find us,” he said after a bit.

“
If
they find us,” Delilah chipped in, like she thought it needed saying.

“Not sure they haven't already,” Sheila commented, “what with that damn thing constantly flying around up there.”

“You've seen it?” I asked, immediately knowing what she was talking about.

“Nah. No one's seen it.”

“'Cuz it's
invisible!
” I said, directing my comment at Jimmy.

“Big Guy! There are no invisible planes, drones, flying saucers, or anything else anyway.”

We ended up in a bit of a free-for-all, even the Doc joining in, saying he'd heard rumors, but Jimmy kept on laughing the whole thing off as if we'd gone crazy.

However, as the argument began to die down, Lena joined in. “There
is
something,” she said. “I've seen it.”

There was silence, no one quite sure how to respond. Jimmy vigorously scratched the back of his head, his ponytail wagging from side to side like that a happy dog. “Lena—” he started.

“I'm telling you, Jimmy.”

“Maybe something . . . but not invisible,” he insisted.

Gordie started snickering, like he couldn't believe we were really arguing about invisible planes, and Hanna flicked him with the back of her hand to shut him up.

In the end we just had to agree to differ; in any case, with Nora Jagger and the Bodyguard so near we had far more pressing problems to deal with.

Sheila immediately took control, putting out her own fire and sending out the message for everyone else to do the same; for the next few days we'd be living off smoked meat, cold stuff, drinking only water.

I didn't know if it was a legacy from her old army days or because she was one of the first to settle there or what, but people plainly saw her as their leader, and when one guy started whining about us, the threat we'd brought in our wake, she immediately squashed him down, telling him he could leave anytime he wanted.

The other thing she arranged was for everyone to chip in a little from their shelters—branches and leaves mostly—to help us build one big enough for our whole gang so we didn't have to go out into the forest to find stuff and maybe make a lotta noise chopping it down.

Delilah wasn't exactly gracious, making some comment about how she'd be more comfortable down a rabbit's hole, though she was right about one thing: it wouldn't last for five minutes. Mind you, the way things were looking, I wasn't sure we were going to either.

Lena and me, Gordie and Hanna—even Doc Simon rolled up his sleeves—did everything we could to make it as bearable as possible, finding more branches, some with leaves still on, down by the woodpile, collecting grass and moss to lie on.

It was when we returned from one of those trips, laden down with all manner of stuff, that I realized Jimmy had gone somewhere.

“Where is he?” I asked Lile.

“Back up the hill,” she told me, “the way we came in.”

I thought about following him, seeing what he was up to, but I guessed he'd just appointed himself look-out and was up there keeping an eye out for Nora Jagger, which made a lotta sense.

He didn't return for a coupla hours, and when he did, was plainly deeply preoccupied.

“What's up?” I asked.

“There's no such thing as invisibility,” he told me.

“Jimmy!” I groaned.

“What there might be are ways of making yourself impossible to be seen.”

“Same thing, ain't it?” I said, feeling slightly bemused.

“No, not at all,” he said, and this time I recognized that look he got when something had revved his motor. “I've put sensors up there; they should give us some indication of whether there's anything flying around or not.”

“And if there is?” I asked.

“Then I guess we'll have to work out how it's making it impossible for us to see it and try to reverse the process.”

It's amazing, that bad leg of his has always been a barometer: if the little guy wasn't happy, he'd be limping and hopping around like a three-legged dog, but if something'd got him that bit inspired, you'd think he was about to leap on the table and do a tap-dance. He'd got seriously pissed off back on the farm at the Doc taking over his workshop, and probably even more that everyone had started to look on the guy as our “resident expert”—but now, with the hint of a challenge he could rise to, he'd already gotta bit of swagger back about him.

Early the following morning I awoke to see Jimmy sneaking outta the shelter, stretching his leg over one sleeping body after another, kinda losing his balance at the end and toppling outta the entrance. Curiosity got the better of me and I roused myself and followed after him, though it says a lot that he was so pumped up, he was almost up to the top of the hill before I actually caught up with him.

As usual when he'd got in one of his obsessive moods, he wasn't that pleased to see me, nor much into conversation.

“What's going on?” I asked, but he never answered, instead going around checking on what I guessed must be the vibration meters he'd stuck into the ground. He studied one after another, his face giving away very little.

“Well?” I asked.

“Yeah . . . There
is
something,” he eventually admitted.

“I been telling you that for weeks!”

“So why can't we see it?”

“It's invisible!”

“Nothing's invisible, Big Guy,” he said, with pointedly forced patience.

“This is.”

“Just hidden from view,” he reiterated, checking the meter on his last sensor.

“Whatever,” I muttered, not being concerned how he dressed it up.

“Night and day?” he asked me, and I realized he was reviewing what I'd already told him.

“Yep.”

“Any noise?”

“Just what we heard the other night,” I reminded him, realizing he hadn't been paying attention. “A slight vibration.”

“That's it?”

I shrugged. “A shadow.”

He turned and stared at me. “There's a
shadow
?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the hell didn't you say so!” he cried, his thoughts plainly veering off in another direction. “Oh, Jeez. I need to go back down.” And with that he set off downhill at such speed I half-expected him to lose balance and topple forward flat on his face.

“Jimmy!”

“Not now, Big Guy,” he shouted back as he disappeared amongst the trees.

I stayed there for a while, trying to follow his train of thought but eventually giving up. How many times had we been through this? How many times had we seen him get all worked up this way? On the other hand, to be fair, one way or another, it usually worked out to our advantage.

Before going back down, I headed over to the far side of the hill. In the distance I could see a fair bit of the plain; there was the thinnest trail of smoke drifting up from it, as if a spider had descended from the sky and left its web hanging there.

It could've been anyone, of course. There were probably any number of different communities in the Interior—amongst the hills, out on the plain, in the forest—that didn't know about each other. On the other hand, if it
was
Nora Jagger and the Bodyguard, there was no question they were closing in on us.

If it wasn't for that damn Shadow-Maker ghosting around in the sky, I might've still rated our chances; as it was, I knew it could only be a matter of time. And then what? The punishment satellite wasn't
on our side any more than it was theirs—it was like looking to the referee to give ya some kinda advantage. And who knew how well it was working—maybe while we'd been away it'd finally expired? Maybe George's execution had been the last act for both of them? In which case we were nothing but sacrificial lambs waiting for the arrival of the slaughter-woman.