In Constant Fear (2 page)

“Clancy?” Lena whispered into the darkness.

“Yeah,” I answered, and in a moment she'd honed in on my voice and was at my side, her expression almost as pained as the howling. “What
is
that?”

“I dunno,” I replied.

“Sounds like something's being tortured,” she said, instinctively taking Thomas from me, I guess also feeling that urge to protect.

“Hey. What do we know?” I replied, trying not to sound that concerned. “City folk. Could be anything. An owl maybe.”

“We've been out in the country for a year now and I've never heard anything like that,” she pointed out, “and I don't think you have either.”

I sighed to myself, all those dark thoughts churning away inside me again, that in some way this might be connected with Infinity.

“You sure it's an animal?” Lena asked.

“I'm not sure of anything.”

We stood there listening for a few moments as the noise thankfully started to subside again. “Come to bed,” she said, as if she'd made a decision, and turned toward the house, Thomas firmly clutched in her arms.

“Gimme a moment.”

“Clancy.”

“Okay, I'm coming.”

Still more concerned than I was letting on, I slowly followed after her. The fly-screen clicked shut just as I reached it and I was about to swing it back open, to follow Lena inside, when—Jeez, I don't how to describe it—the weirdest thing happened:
something
passed me by. Something was there—and then it wasn't. There was a disturbance, like a ripple throughout the night, and then it was gone.

I turned back to the step, looking all around me, the hairs on the back of my neck twanging away like they had electricity passing through them.

What the hell
was
that? There was nothing in the sky, I couldn't see anything moving across the land, but something had been there, all right. Even the howling had stopped abruptly, as if whatever it was had been sufficiently unnerved to forget their distress.

I stayed there for several minutes, squinting hard into the darkness, checking all around, those hairs on the back of my neck springing up again every time I recalled how I'd felt, but nothing else happened.

Finally I followed Lena in, locking and bolting the door, then taking one last look outta the window. There was still nothing to see, but I had this strong sense that a shadow had somehow stretched its way over the mountains, across the valley and the road and now was traveling up the slope toward us.

Those first couple of days out of the City, skimming along country roads in the limo we took from Doctor Simon, were really something. At first I described everything to Lena—the mountains, the forest, a beautiful view—trying to make sure she didn't miss a thing, but again she got all impatient with me, telling me to pipe down and complaining that I was spoiling the moment. I guess the thing was, she could feel the freedom every bit as much as anyone else, and as far as she was concerned, that was all that mattered.

It took me a while to see it her way, to appreciate I'd been creating a bit of tension; when I finally did, the mood in the limo noticeably lifted: four adults and three kids blasting off to Planet Delirium. We sang endlessly, laughed long and hard for no particular reason, and forever hung outta the windows calling out to every animal, tree and rock we passed. Okay, so there was still the occasional fire that meant a lengthy detour, and any number of times we crested the top of a hill to be met by nothing but a blackened wasteland, but we knew it would grow back again—and so would we.

Jimmy had reprogrammed the limo, taken out most of the security features—locator, return-to-owner, voice recognition—so we
could go wherever we wanted (and more importantly, I suspect, so
he
could add to his growing collection of scavenged technology). The only problem was, once we got off the main road and left the power strip, the limo switched to auxiliary—good old-fashioned gas—and we had to be real careful about every mile we covered.

I can't tell you how many close shaves we had during those first couple of months, the number of times we almost got caught. Infinity Dragonflies were coming and going day and night, swinging from one side of the sky to the other, stopping dead and hovering over one particular spot; that thunderous thrumming pulsating across the forest floor, their spotlights arrowing down like they were borne on silver stilts. Some days there were so many we had to stay put, camouflaging the limo with branches and hiding amongst the trees. They even brought in armored pursuit vehicles, each one carrying half a dozen or so Specials, roaring around all over the place, smashing up everything in their way. A couple of times they were upon us almost before we knew and all we could do was make a run for it, desperate to draw them away from the hidden limo, going deeper and darker into the forest, like parent birds distracting predators from the nest, slipping back only after we were sure they'd gone.

It got to the point where we were utterly exhausted, starved of sleep and food, and though no one was saying it, there was this growing sense that it could only be a matter of time. But Jimmy—God bless that little guy—worked out that we had to be close to the limit of a Dragonfly's range; if we traveled on another twenty or thirty miles, maybe up into the mountains, we'd be out of their reach.

That night we all piled into the limo and slowly worked our way out of the forest and onto the deserted country road. 'Course I couldn't use the headlights and it wasn't long before I was reminded that my old eyesight ain't what it used to be by going off the road, not once, but twice, putting more dents into the Doc's precious vehicle, a lotta swearing and cussing going into getting us out of the ditch and back onto the road.

I got us as far as I could, to the foothills that led up to the mountains, but was forced to stop the moment I saw the dawn starting
to clamber up over the horizon. We returned the limo to the forest, again disguising it with branches, everyone splitting up to explore the immediate area.

It was the kids who found the cave—hidden away behind this big slab of upended rock, like it was the front door or something. Gordie, competitive as ever, claimed it was him, but Gigi got so annoyed that in the end he had to acknowledge it might've been more her. They called us over, jumping up and down and getting all excited, like they'd found an abandoned castle or something. Mind you, it
was
quite a find, especially how roomy it was. A little damp, which proved a bit of a problem, but we still ended up living there for the best part of six months. And, of course, it was where Thomas was born.

Thank God, Delilah took over that afternoon, what with me rushing around like a wild-eyed headless chicken. I didn't have a clue what to do and couldn't have been more panicked if Lena'd had half a dozen bullets inside her. Lile sent the kids off for a walk before ordering Jimmy to get lost too—telling him outright it wasn't seemly for him to be that close to a woman in her condition. All I can remember is her screaming at Lena to push, ignore the pain it rewards you with and “
Push! Push! Push!
” for all she was worth.

If you've never seen it, when that baby starts to come out, and no matter how natural you tell yourself childbirth is, it is one
helluva
shock—as if you can't believe that's where it's been hiding all that time. I cut the cord myself, with the hunting knife I'd spent forever sharpening and sterilizing (the same one I once used to scar my side that time, to make out I'd had a kidney transplant so I'd be taken into the fortress of the Infinity building to have it removed).

Afterward, Lena just lay there, cuddling little Thomas and looking so proud of herself. She kept gently feeling him all over, working out what he looked like, and if she was frustrated at not being able to see him, if she was feeling the weight of her disability, she sure didn't mention it.

For a while everything seemed to work out just fine. 'Course, it was a helluvan adjustment having another person around, especially
such a demanding one, and maybe it was my age—I was beginning to feel every one of those sixty-four years—but he really tired me out. Yet gradually, I guess as all new parents do, we got used to him. Then one day the little guy developed a cough, his tiny lungs started to clog and we knew we had to move on, that the cave was too damp for such a new life.

Jimmy suggested we go over the mountains, that not only would we be safer from Infinity, but the lie of the land would mean there'd be far less hydrazine residue left over from the punishment satellites. The only problem with that was there wasn't a direct route: if we'd taken the limo, we would've had to have headed down to the pass and gone around that way, but it would've meant the best part of a day and just about all of our gas.

In the end, it was Hanna who came up with the answer: why not just hide the limo in the cave and make our way over the mountain on foot?

That poor vehicle took a real battering on its way up the slope and into the cave. The slab just outside the entrance meant I had to keep going back and forth, back and forth, 'til eventually I managed to maneuver it into place. And as for the mountain, once we started to climb—it might not've been that steep or high, but it was still one helluva challenge for someone like Lile and that old sawing single lung of hers. Not that I reckoned any of us felt we had a choice: not where the baby's health was involved.

There were times when I wondered if Thomas was the real reason why Lena didn't wanna talk about her blindness anymore. Perhaps some animal instinct had kicked in and shifted all her priorities from her to him. She was always
aware
of the little guy, no matter what the situation, where he was and what he was doing—as if my knife hadn't cut that cord at all, and never could.

It took a while of waiting for what I hoped was the right moment, but in the end I told her what Doc Simon had said: about her being the only woman he was aware of who was able to bear a child, that those four years of living underground in the tunnels had meant she'd avoided the effects of the hydrazine poisoning that'd been spilling
out of punishment satellites—or 'til Jimmy went and brought them all down.

I thought she'd be really shocked, that she wouldn't know how to deal with it, but she just dismissed it as another of the Doc's games—which I guess made a kinda sense. As far as she was concerned, Thomas was
our
little miracle and that was an end to it. It would've worried the hell out of her to have to entertain the idea of him being
other people
's miracle too; that we might have some kinda moral responsibility to share the little guy.

Anyway, in terms of our survival, of Infinity's pursuit, I don't reckon it made a whole heap of difference. They had more than enough reasons for hunting us down: like Gigi double-crossing Nora Jagger, and both of us briefly thinking that we'd put an end to her miserable life.

I tell ya, I've come across some pretty vile examples of humanity in my time. Some of the scum Mr. Meltoni used to send me to deal with—well, let's be honest, some of the scum he had working
for
him—were so randomly vicious and violent, so beyond redemption, you felt like you wanted to burn out what they had in their heads, set them to default, and hope you ended up with something better. But Nora Jagger? . . . Jesus, she's something else. She's got no arms and legs, just these specially-made prosthetics—or to be more accurate,
weapons
—she attaches to herself. They're stronger, more powerful than you could ever imagine, and utterly lethal at her bidding.

I'd seen enough of her to know she'd never give up searching for us, no matter what the reason; that she probably spent hours each and every day dreaming up new ways to torture and kill us and wouldn't stop 'til she'd used each and every one. If that was the reason why those animals were screaming into the night, 'cuz they could sense her on her way, for sure, I didn't blame them—in fact, if that did turn out to be the case, I'd start screaming too.

The following morning, Jimmy, Gigi and me headed up over the hill toward the next valley. It said a lot that I often left Gordie behind now, trusting him to look after Lena and the baby in case any crazies
came a-calling. And if he stayed, generally that meant that Hanna did too, and Gigi would immediately make a point of volunteering to go along, so who stayed and who went pretty much resolved itself.

Our smallholding was kinda on the edge of things. You only had to get over the hill and there were half a dozen other groups and families who'd done the same as us: taken over abandoned spreads, done any necessary repairs, dismantled any automatic machinery that could be used by hand. Several of them had even got livestock: not much, maybe a dozen or so cows and a bull, a horse to help out with the plowing (though, apparently it had a mule-like habit of occasionally refusing), a couple of goats—some had been rounded up but most just wandered in of their own accord, like they'd given independence a shot but hadn't much cared for it.

We would've preferred to have lived over there, too—strength in numbers, after all—but by the time we'd arrived there was nowhere left. Mind you, they did tell us about
our
place—how it'd been left empty, that no one had moved in 'cuz it was out on its own and considered too vulnerable.

I don't know how many people were living in that valley, maybe thirty or so, and all sorts, young and old. No kids, I noticed, and no babies—I mean, it could've been just coincidence, but I wouldn't have wanted to bet on it.

We were going to see this guy, Nick, in his fifties, short but heavy, of Greek extraction. He didn't exactly care for the title, but most of those over there saw him as the village elder, mainly 'cuz him and his grown-up family were the first there. Jimmy'd done this trade with him—his wheat seed for a signal-booster—and it was time to make the exchange. There's not a lotta communication gets over that side of the mountains, not since Jimmy prompted the punishment satellites to have their little shoot-out in the sky. There were one or two places where you
might
get a signal, but you'd better be prepared to climb way up, and even then, it's weak or intermittent at best. I didn't know whether Jimmy's booster would make any difference, but I guessed Nick thought it was worth playing around with.

For our part, we were really hoping that if we could plant some wheat, get a good harvest, we could start grinding flour, for bread, pies, cakes, whatever. Nick'd cautioned us that it was getting a little late for summer wheat, but as long as the weather was kind, it should be okay.

I wasn't gonna say anything about what had happened the previous night, but Gigi brought it up, complaining it'd disturbed her sleep.

“We didn't hear nothing,” Jimmy commented, which didn't exactly surprise me, not with him and Lile.

“Kinda scary,” Gigi admitted.

Jimmy turned to me, wondering if I'd heard anything.

“Something,” I admitted. “Screech Owl p'haps?” Though I had no real idea what that was or even what it sounded like.

“Maybe around your side of the house,” he said, as if to head off any suggestion that his hearing wasn't what it used to be, and to my relief, promptly lost interest in the subject.

I don't know what it was about that little community in the valley but normally there's this real nice atmosphere over there, a sense that everyone's a damn sight happier than they've been in a long time, and that they appreciate every moment of it. But as we approached, I began to get this feeling, like all wasn't entirely well.

“What's bothering them?” Jimmy asked, as if confirming my concerns.

I shook my head. Normally you'd get a couple of cheery waves and a “how-are-ya?,” but it looked like they had something pretty heavy on their minds.

“Maybe it's me?” Gigi suggested, knowing there was still a certain amount of distrust of Island kids.

“Nah. 'Course not,” I replied, just for a moment wondering if it might have more to do with whatever I'd heard in the early hours.

I saw Nick from some way off, crouched down on his porch step, that oversize stomach filling the gap between his chest and knees. There was a large frown hacked across his heavy brow, his long curly black and silver hair even more disheveled than usual.