In Constant Fear (31 page)

Jimmy stared at her, at first, I thought, kinda shocked, but then he got this look about him, like deep down he knew she was right. He took a deep breath, even puffed up his chest a little, like he was ready to take up his responsibility.

“Do it,” Nora Jagger snarled to the Doc, for some reason infuriated by this sense of sacrifice.

I looked at Doc Simon—he couldn't, not to Jimmy, could he? But he just took a bit of a breath, made sure Nora Jagger'd got a firm grip, then went about his duty.

It happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, it took me a while to appreciate what the hell was going on. The Doc leaned forward as if about to jab the syringe into Jimmy's arm, then at the last moment drove upward and sideways and tried to stick it into the Bitch's neck.

There was a wild tussle—I wasn't sure whether he'd succeeded or not. One of the Bodyguards joined in, the Doc got knocked to the ground and lay there struggling and flapping like a landed fish. I tried to free myself from the two holding me, but they'd been joined by another. The Bitch was lashing out with those awesome limbs of hers, kicking the Doc so hard she almost lifted his body up into the air.

Gordie obviously decided he'd had enough, that he was gonna step in, and Hanna was only a split-second behind him.

“No!” I shouted, and they hesitated, like me not sure whether that damn satellite was gonna join in or not, just how unreliable it'd become.

The Doc was rolled up like a ball, I thought trying to protect himself, but maybe it was the syringe—obviously he hadn't managed to stick it into her. He tried to get up, swishing it from side to side, but she kicked him down again, so furious at his surprise rebellion she momentarily lost all control.

She saw that precious case of his lying on the ground—his private fortune, so beloved and revered—and kicked it as hard as she could; pieces flying everywhere as it tumbled over and over across
the clearing, a whole lifetime's work gone—and yeah, even in that moment I couldn't help but think that something that belonged to Lena and me had been lost, too.

I honestly think the Doc might've been beaten at that point, that he never would've got up again, but he was so angry with her for smashing his case he somehow resurrected himself, struggling to his feet, the syringe held tightly in his hand—only then realizing it was broken, that its toxic contents had already spilled out.

Nora Jagger clubbed him back down, briefly hesitating, looking up to the sky, like everyone else, wondering what that satellite was gonna do. For sure it should have reacted by now. Was it misinterpreting? In which case, how much could she get away with? It was written all over her face that she wanted the pleasure of finishing him off, but in the end she decided not to risk it, turning to the nearest Bodyguard, directing him to the Doc.

Like all Bodyguards, he never questioned her for a moment: just stamped on the Doc's head with his bionic foot as hard as he could, exploding it like an oversize pumpkin, and you know what? Immediately the day was lit up by a perfect beam of heavenly light and the killer was felled.

“Shit!” the Bitch exclaimed, obviously more concerned by her lucky escape than the death of another of her Bodyguards.

I can't tell ya what a chilling sight that was. Doctor Simon, Mr. Immaculate, reduced to nothing but a squashed head and a splatter of blood and bone. And ya know, I was far more upset about it than I would've expected. The guy was a weasel in so many ways, and yet when it came down to it, when he reached that final decision, he was ready to sacrifice himself for others. As if, no matter what was on the surface, somewhere deep inside he regarded life and its continuation as sacred. He'd proved himself worthwhile, though the irony was, by doing so, he'd got himself killed.

I really don't know what would've happened next—they couldn't continue to terrorize the villagers with injections, and it was clear the satellite was working, though it obviously had some issues. Maybe it was prioritizing, saving energy, only reacting to capital
crimes? Whatever, it was too slow; the victim was perishing along with the attacker. Still, it
was
working, we
were
being protected to some degree—so p'raps we would've resumed the long game, the Bitch trying to starve us out while continuing to search for Lena and Thomas? But suddenly I heard a cry echo across the clearing from the forest edge that I immediately recognized, and that chilled me to my bones and beyond.

A coupla Bodyguards had found her, maybe she'd been sleeping or something, I dunno, but somehow they'd managed to separate her from the baby and were leading her back like a blind dog following a bone. The one in front was carrying Thomas, leading her, the one behind making sure she didn't deviate. Not that they had any need to worry; a dirty and disheveled Lena was chasing along behind, begging and pleading to be given her baby, and I'll tell ya, I could've wept.

It was too much for some of the villagers; they immediately started wailing too, all of them so fond of mother and child. I struggled with the Bodyguards holding me, and I guess feeling the situation was now resolved, they let me go free.

I ran over and snatched Thomas from the Bodyguard, wanting to kill them for what they'd done to her, to beat them senseless, I but just handed the baby to Lena, “It's okay, it's okay,” I told her, though clearly it wasn't.

She clutched Thomas to her, rocking him back and forth, tears streaming down her face. “
Bastards!
” she screamed.

For a moment I just held her, trying to give her my strength. “I thought you were miles way.”

“I was . . . but I couldn't leave you.”

I could've laughed: just as, back at the homestead, I'd been unable to go any further than the woods, now she hadn't got any further than the forest.

“What's happening?” she asked me.

“I don't know,” I told her, petrified of what her capture would mean. I pulled Thomas's blanket aside to check he was okay, surprised to find him awake despite not making the slightest sound, those familiar hazy blue eyes gazing calmly up at me.

The two Bodyguards decided they'd had enough and led us back to the others.

The Bitch was looking particularly pleased with herself. “If it's not the little maid and her miracle,” she crowed.

It was the weirdest thing: the villagers were so scared of Nora Jagger and the Bodyguard, I would never have expected them to do what they did, but they acted like some kinda herd animals: the moment Thomas was in their midst they crowded around as if determined to protect the little guy. Nora Jagger did her best to get through, but they wouldn't let her.

“This is not advisable,” she told them coldly. “Not one little bit.”

She didn't do anything, just stood there glaring at them. At first they stayed where they were, not looking her way, determined to hold their ground . . . but they weren't strong enough, and one by one, gave way.

“What d'you want?” Lena asked, hearing the Bitch's slurping footsteps stop in front of her.

“Him,” she said, pulling back the blanket, for the briefest of moments looking coldly fascinated by Thomas's innocent little face.

“You can't have him,” Lena told her, pulling away.

“But my hormones are playing up,” Nora Jagger sneered, chuckling away to herself. “My maternal instincts.”

Lena just stood there, her eyes unseeing but her face so strong, so resolute, in that moment I would've backed her up against anyone. “He's
our
baby,” she declared.

“Not anymore,” the Bitch told her.

You might've thought Thomas had understood every word of that conversation, 'cuz suddenly his peaceful mood fractured and he began to cry, and the odd thing was, for several moments no one seemed capable of doing anything other than listening to him, as if his tears heralded something in us all.

“He's hungry,” the Bitch said, as if Lena should know that, but Lena ignored her, for once letting the little guy cry.

Nora Jagger turned to the nearest Bodyguards. “Hold her,” she ordered, and three of them grabbed Lena, I guessed having some
idea what was about to happen. Suddenly her face was filled with such panic as she felt those powerful prosthetic hands reaching out, trying to take Thomas, and she let out one of the loudest, most agonized screams I'd ever heard.

“
Nooooo!
” she shrieked. “Leave him alone!”

I did everything I could to reach her, but they put this kinda choke-chain on me, and when I started to struggle, ripped it as tight as it would go.

In any normal situation I reckon Lena would've fought to the death to defend Thomas, but with those awesomely formidable hands trying to get a hold on his fragile little body, she had to be so careful. There was this almost absurd struggle—probably only for a minute or so, but it felt like forever—while she kinda crouched over with Thomas buried in the crook of her body, the little guy shrieking loudly while the Bitch did everything she could to get a hold of him. She grabbed his blanket, wrenched at it, and as the struggle continued, finally managed to get hold of one of his arms. Lena must've thought she had no choice, that if she didn't let go, the two of them might tear the little guy apart.

“Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him—!” she cried, as she loosened her grip and felt Thomas being taken from her, and I recalled that thought that had gone through my head so many times: that by having Thomas we'd created our very own Achilles heel, a soft spot where we were hopelessly vulnerable.

No matter how scared they might've been, the villagers expressed their displeasure in the only way they could, booing and jeering the Bitch. 'Course, she ignored them, all her attention focused on that fiery, screwed-up little face bawling away in her arms, staring at him as if she couldn't quite believe what it was.

“I told you he was hungry,” she said, as if she knew more about it than Lena. “He needs feeding.”

It was like being dragged through the doorway into madness and no longer being sure what human behavior was. I couldn't believe it: she held Thomas in one arm, undid her tunic, and took out one of her breasts.

There were any number of gasps, one or two sickened moans, and Lena asked what was going on. “Nothing,” I told her—I mean, what the hell could I say?

“Clancy!” she growled impatiently, and I knew I had no choice.

The look of pain on her face, that sense of utter revulsion, was a real challenge to behold. I didn't know if she was gonna start punching or vomiting. I mean, I'm a guy; I couldn't truly appreciate what it meant, but if it felt like an outrage to me—the ultimate in intimate trespass—what the hell must it've felt like to her?

Nora Jagger took Thomas to her breast, the little guy, not knowing any better, starting to suckle, but ya know what? He reacted almost instantly, pulling away and screwing up his little face like he'd sucked on something truly noxious.

“Stop it!” Lena and Lile yelled the moment Thomas started to cry again.

“He's fine,” Nora Jagger replied, getting hold of the little guy and sticking her nipple in his mouth again. “Just got to get used to it.”

Jeez, it was an obscenity: my son—my own flesh and blood—was suckling on the Bitch and I couldn't divorce myself from the thought that he was imbibing her poison, just in the same way that Arturo's heart was pumping it. He made a face and pulled away again, and this time she more or less rammed her nipple back into his mouth.

“Leave him, will ya?” I shouted. “Ya got nothing for him.”

I don't know if that was what finally persuaded her to give up, but just like he was a toy that had proved a disappointment, she threw him back at Lena, who, thank God, with a little bit of fumbling, finally managed to keep hold of the little guy.

“Have your brat,” she snapped, “and make him shut the fuck up.”

Lena hesitated for a moment, I didn't think so much concerned about feeding Thomas in the middle of everything that was going on as wanting to be alone with him, to appreciate having him safe in her arms again. Sheila promptly led her away to her shelter, not bothering to ask permission, just reclaiming her property.

“If I get the chance, I'll kill that bitch,” she muttered as they went past, and Lena grunted, like it wasn't gonna happen; that
she
was gonna be at the head of that particular line.

I tugged at the chain around my neck and this time the Bodyguards let me go. I crossed to Jimmy, the little guy looking like the events of the last few minutes had sucked all the air outta him.

“Not cool, Big Guy,” he gasped, his voice even higher than usual. “Not cool at all.”

What I didn't understand was what exactly the Bitch had in mind for Thomas—and I was beginning to think she didn't either: one minute she was acting like all she wanted was to be his adopted mother, to start her own dynasty; the next, like motherhood was a huge disappointment and he'd be the last thing thrown on Lena's and my funeral pyre. Thank the Lord for that satellite (there's something I never thought I'd say!): faulty it might be, but at least it'd bought us a little more time.

Sheila left Lena alone with Thomas in the shelter, returning to the group, exchanging the fiercest of glares with the Bitch, letting her know exactly what she thought of her. Tell the truth, it kinda concerned me: it wasn't her fight, and satellite or no satellite, I didn't want her getting herself killed over it. I went over and tried to tug her away before she got into trouble.

“Leave me alone, Clancy,” she muttered.

“You don't know what you're getting into,” I warned, putting a hand on her shoulder.

I tell ya, it was a real shock: she suddenly turned and shoved me so hard I fell back a pace or two. “Back off, all right?” she snarled.

I was really taken by surprise—I mean, I wasn't exactly happy with the situation either. “Okay—! Okay, I'm sorry.”