Chapter Text
"A TOUCH OF THE SUN"
A "Harsh Realm" story
Written by Alison M. DOBELL
* * * * *
It was a bright burning hell of a day. The heat so sear it burnt off the cloudy remnants of a misty morning and had them peeling off their clothes as they walked. Hobbes was happy. After weeks of wet windy weather he had given up on ever seeing the sun again. Pinocchio squinted up at the impossible blue of the sky but said nothing. Considering that Hobbes was so much fairer he should have been the one glowering at the hot sun not Pinocchio but all in all it did not matter a damn. They took it in turns to carry the dog. The earth drying quickly into a baked and cracked wasteland beneath their feet. So hot now that it scorched the little dog's feet. Pinocchio's frown deepened. Florence shot him a look. Her eyes asking what was wrong. He ignored her. After weeks of travelling with a depressed Hobbes, the advent of wall to wall sunshine was doing more for the young man's mental state than he or Florence could achieve in a lifetime. He was not about to jinx it by saying anything to dampen his mood. He would rather cut off his right arm.
They walked for hours. The burning trail sapping their energy until even the talkative Hobbes fell silent. Pinocchio did not like the sudden swing in weather. It seemed to him as if Harsh Realm had become nothing but a land of extremes. It felt wrong. The balance out of kilter. His senses tingled, he found himself sniffing the air. Suspicious and wary. He looked at Florence. She was not sweating as heavily as the men but her skin still glistened. They had to be careful not to dehydrate, to find shelter soon. Hobbes noticed he seemed ill at ease.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing Hobbes, just hot."
Hobbes smiled. "Yeah. No more freeking rain!"
He said nothing. Just gave him a nod and moved up to join Florence. At her questioning look he took the dog off her and unzipped his jacket. She watched him settle Dexter and do the jacket back up. Seeing her look he gave a rough explanation. "Too hot for the dog, Florence." He mumbled. "Have to keep him covered."
Her eyes searched his. Realised what he was saying. A tiny nod. They needed to find shelter. A thick wood. Caves. Anything to get out of the sun. Pinocchio turned his head, noticed how red Hobbes' face was. His neck burning in the heat. He cursed himself for getting sloppy and walked back to him. "Where's your hat?"
"What?"
"Your hat Hobbes, where is it?"
"In my pack, why?"
Pinocchio began unstrapping Hobbes' pack. "Better put it on before you get heat stroke, Hobbes."
"I'm alright."
Pinocchio glanced at him, he had the pack off now and was rumaging through it. "No, you're not Hobbes. Your lips are cracking and you have sunburn."
Hobbes frowned. "It's only a bit of sun, Pinocchio..."
He found the hat, pulled it out and stuck it on Hobbes' head. "Just humour me, okay?"
"I will when I see you put a hat on."
He sighed, nodded and slipped his pack off. It took a bit longer to find his hat, it was jammed right down at the bottom of his rucksack. He looked across at Florence. "Hey Florence, where's your hat?"
She shrugged, shielded her eyes and looked out across at the cracked ground and yellowing grasses. Pinocchio repacked his stuff and slipped his pack on. He caught up with Florence, stuck his hat on her head, and walked on. "I'll take up point Florence, drop back and take up the rear. Make sure Hobbes doesn't dawdle."
She nodded and dropped back. Hobbes muttered under his breath. Sometimes Pinocchio made him feel six freeking years old.
* * * * *
The homestead surprised them all. It seemed to appear almost out of nowhere. One moment they were trudging listlessly through the unremitting heat, the next they had topped a low rise and looked down into a dip of lush grass with a lake and wooden farmhouse complete with picket fence and a coral. A coral! Pinocchio just stood and stared. Next he would be seeing freeking chickens, ducks and geese. Florence and Hobbes came up behind him and took in the vista. Hobbes whooped with joy. Before Pinocchio could stop him he raced down the incline towards the house. Pinocchio looked at Florence and rolled his eyes. She smiled and touched his arm gently, her eyes telling him not to worry.
"Who's worried?" He whispered.
She kissed his cheek and followed Hobbes. He never could kid Florence.
By the time he got to the farmhouse Hobbes had already introduced himself to the sole occupant. His name was Daniel Taylor. A man in his mid-fifties. Tall and lean with a weathered face and ice blue eyes. His shock of bleached hair was cut short and he was clean shaven. Pinocchio noticed there was not an ounce of fat on him. He heard horses whickering but the coral was empty. Taylor watched his face keenly and answered the unspoken question. "In the barn."
Pinocchio nodded. Said nothing. The man watched him cast his eyes slowly round the place, taking in everything there was to see and noticing what was missing. Hobbes was babbling away in high content. Taylor smiled at him. Offered him cold lemonade. Freshly made. Hobbes face was a picture. A man given the keys to Fort Knox could not have looked happier. A smile touched Pinocchio's lips then faded. His dark head turned away from the house and looked out again. A constant watch in his world weary eyes. Taylor took Hobbes inside, fetched a pitcher of cold lemonade and brought it outside with a tray of glasses. There was a covered veranda round the house with a hitching rail round it. Pinocchio undid his jacket and put Dexter on the ground. Fussed him briefly then straightened and leant on the hitching rail, availing himself of the verandah's shelter while not letting up on his vigilance for a moment. Hobbes took a glass of the lemonade.
"Thanks, it's very kind of you Mr Taylor."
"Please. The name's Dan. You make me sound ninety."
Hobbes laughed and apologised. Florence smiled her thanks. Taylor handed Pinocchio a glass. Their eyes met and a flicker of understanding passed between them. Pinocchio nodded. "Thanks." A pause. "Fine place you got here."
"I like it."
"You lived here long?"
"Most of my life. Never seen you around here before though."
Pinocchio took a deep draught of the lemonade. Trying not to gulp it down all in one. Nothing to do with being polite, just being sensible. After a few moments he answered the unspoken question. "We're just passing through."
Taylor nodded. Hobbes spoke tentatively. "I hope you don't mind my asking but do you have any water for my dog?"
He smiled and cocked his head at the little Jack Russel. "Sure, Tom, just give me a minute."
Pinocchio watched Taylor disappear back inside the farmhouse and gave Hobbes a look.
"What?"
He shook his head and finished off his lemonade. Something troubling him like an itch he could not scratch. His eyes came to rest on the water. Of all things. Loons. He smiled and thought of that film with an elderly Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn in it. What was it called? Oh yeah, "On Golden Pond". His mother had always loved that film. Silly, sappy, sentimental but a good film nonetheless. He felt like he was trapped in the pages of someone else's story. Like he shouldn't freeking well be here. He was not aware of Taylor coming over to join him. The creak of the rail telling him another man's weight had been added to it. He did not turn his head. Watched as Hobbes stripped down to his boxers and dived into the pond. The water sure looked good. He smiled as Hobbes splashed water at Florence. She glanced back at him once then took off her jacket and waded in fully clothed. He grinned. Trust Florence not to go buck naked.
"You could go for a swim too, you know. I don't charge."
"Nah, the view from the porch is just fine."
Taylor contemplated the man's profile for several minutes, a comfortable silence falling between them. When he spoke again his words surprised Pinocchio. "What do you think Harsh Realm is, Mike?"
He stared at him. Not simply because he called him by his Christian name either. It was such an odd question to come from a stranger. "What do you mean?"
"What is it?"
"You know what it is. It's a computer simulation of the Real World."
Taylor waved a hand at the farmhouse, the lake, the coral. "So all this is not real?"
Pinocchio nodded. He had that prickling sensation on the back of his neck. "What do you believe?"
The man smiled slowly. He was amiable enough, very pleasant and certainly the perfect host but somehow Pinocchio felt a chill in his veins. "I asked you first." The man said softly.
"Harsh Realm is a computer simulation of the Real World created by the military."
"Where do you come from?"
The chill in his veins turned to ice. "You know where I come from."
"Humour me."
The smiling eyes were not smiling any more. All of a sudden he couldn't hear Hobbes laughing any more. All the normal sounds cut off from him by a simple question. He felt his life hung in the balance of the answer he would give. "The Real World."
"What about your friends?"
"None of your freeking business."
The man leaned closer. Pinocchio could not move. "You think all those people hooked into the Game are in the same game, Mike? Same scenario? Think again. Each mind is trapped in its' own version of Harsh Realm. There is no Thomas Hobbes. No Florence. No Santiago. And *no* Inga. They only exist in your mind because they were placed there. Memory fragments given a semblance of life."
He stepped back from the rail, his face white. Hands starting to shake. "Who the hell are you?"
"You must have known," The man continued softly. His voice sliding down between Pinocchio's shoulder blades like a sliver of ice. He shuddered. Suddenly afraid.
"Leave me alone."
"You made this all up, Mike."
He tried to take another step, put distance between them, but found himself rooted to the spot. Impossibly, as ice ran down his back he began to perspire. Heart thundering like hooves across a prairie. "Keep away from me. Keep away from Hobbes." He snarled.
"They aren't real, Mike, so how can you protect them?"
The shudder grew stronger. He felt his heart miss a beat. A great wide gap of a chasm he could not cross. "Why are you doing this?"
"Face the truth. Set your demons free."
"I don't have any demons."
"Lies, Mike. Pretty lies so you can sleep at night."
"You're the one who's lying."
"Am I? I thought Hobbes was the One?"
He felt himself getting confused. Hobbes *was* the One. So who the freeking hell was this guy and why was he finding it hard to focus? Something in the freeking lemonade. From a distance he heard Hobbes calling his name. He sounded worried. Why would he be worried? Taylor touched his forehead. He was wringing with sweat. "You're burning up."
"Don't touch me."
"I can help you, Mike."
"Get the fuck away from me!"
He moved closer and whispered in his ear. The serpent in the Garden of Eden. "What are you afraid of?"
He could not answer. Taylor already knew.
"Afraid you'll lose Hobbes? Get Florence killed? Fail your friends?"
"Leave me a-freeking-lone."
"I can't, Mike. Not until you face the truth."
He wanted to shut his eyes, his mind. Close his body down to keep him out. Block the sensations of his senses so that he could not infiltrate his brain. Haunt him with thoughts and ideas that tore away the fragile membrane of sanity to which he clung.
"You're alone, Mike. Trapped in a digital hell you cannot escape from."
Tears stung his eyes but he was unaware. His heart beating so fast now he was not sure he could catch up. "Why are you doing this?"
"You were born alone and you'll die alone."
"Don't do this." His words were a plea. Whispered.
"Just admit the truth. You made this all up."
"Then who the freeking hell invented you?"
Taylor chuckled. The sound breaking up in Pinocchio's ears and cutting him like shards of glass. He fancied he could feel blood running down from his ears. "Do you want to go home, Mike? Make this all end?"
"I can't." The words were squeezed out. Reluctant. Painful. Forced out through dry cracked lips haunted by a hint of lemon.
"Yes, you can. You're the only one who can."
"I have to protect Hobbes."
"He's not real."
"Yes, he is."
"You're delusional, Mike. Been on your own too long."
He forced his eyes open but the blaze of sunshine was too strong for him, blinding him. He cried out and shut his eyes.
"What did you see, Mike? What did you see when the world ended?"
"Go to freeking hell!"
"Yours or mine?"
"I don't care, just stay away from me."
"And Florence, Mike. She's just a fantasy to keep you warm at night."
Anger flared hot and furious but he could not direct it. Taylor made him impotent. Trapped within his rage. Wounded by fears that came from nowhere yet would not leave him. A fever in his brain eating away at his sanity. Burning through his veins as if someone had lit a fuse to his heart. He
could feel it licking up his veins and scorching him. Knew when it reached his heart he would explode. Digitise and vanish. Then who would protect Hobbes? Who would look after Florence? Who would be left to see that the dream came true?
* * * * *
Hobbes was frightened. Blaming himself. It was too damn hot. He should have noticed. Pinocchio was so busy making sure him and Florence did not get sunstroke that he had keeled over. Face bright red and blistering. Lips cracked and bleeding. So hot. Delirious. He looked around for anything they could use as shelter but there was nothing. Between them they carried him, Florence unable to heal him though Hobbes could not fathom out why. Pinocchio had once told him she could only heal them from things that had happened to them inside Harsh Realm. So why couldn't she heal this? Why was this any different from a bullet wound or the slash of a knife? He did not understand. The only thing he knew was that his friend was in a bad way and getting worse. Every few hundred yards they would have to stop while Pinocchio was sick. Hobbes gave him the last of their water. Panic eating a path to his heart. No way was he going to lose Pinocchio to a touch of the freeking sun. He took his hat off and shoved it on his friend's head, then carefully eased his shoulder under him, Florence taking the other side.
The house was a Godsend. More of a shack than anything else, it was the first bit of good luck they had had in a long while. Hobbes pounded on the door. The man who opened it looked blankly at them.
"It's my friend, he's got sunstroke. Please, can we bring him inside?"
The man stepped aside and let them in. His silent eyes taking in the fear on Hobbes' face, the sadness in Florence's eyes. The state of the man they carried between them. He showed them through to the back room and let them lay him on the bed. Then he got water and some towels and passed them to Florence. Not a word was spoken and none needed to be said. Hobbes and
Florence sat with Pinocchio through the hours of his delirium. Florence stripped him and washed him down with the cool water. Drying him off gently with the towels before covering him lightly in a sheet. No blankets. She needed to bring his temperature down. Hobbes watched her and marvelled at how gentle she was with him. Her capable hands so graceful, knowing how and where to touch him to give him ease.
Three days they stayed. The fever broke on the second day but Pinocchio was too weak to be moved. The man gave them food to eat and Hobbes made up a thick broth. Fed it to him a spoon at a time, as much as he would take. He slept immediately afterwards and Hobbes fretted. Florence washed him down again, noted his temperature was falling and risked giving Hobbes a wary smile. He was still worried but somehow that smile meant the whole world to him. On the morning of the third day Pinocchio woke and the fever had gone. His eyes focused on Florence's face. She smiled, happy and relieved. <How do you feel?>
<Tired. Sore. What happened?>
<You got heat stroke>
He snorted as if she were making it up though he did not for a moment disbelieve her. Hobbes woke and grinned at him. "You had us so worried."
Pinocchio looked around the room he was in. "Where are we?"
Hobbes sat on the side of the bed, so happy. "We found a shack."
"I can see that, Hobbes." Said Pinocchio sarcastically.
Hobbes laughed.
"What's so freeking funny?"
Hobbes shook his head, so damn happy he had no words.
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days."
The alarm on his face was comical to Hobbes. Florence tried to reassure him with a smile. Pinocchio threw back the sheet then realised he was naked. He flushed and covered himself quickly. "Where's my clothes?"
Hobbes tried to wipe the smile off his face and failed miserably. He got up. "I'll get them."
When he was gone he looked at Florence. She touched his face gently. It was still sore but he did not care. He was just glad to be awake. Itched to be on their way again. She knew. Could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his energy coiled ready for the journey. Hobbes burst back in with his
clothes. A man following close behind him. Pinocchio's smile froze as he caught sight of him. "What the hell are you doing here, Taylor?"
Hobbes looked shocked. He had not even asked the man his name. Florence looked at their host then at Pinocchio. Wondering at his reaction. If she did not know better she would have thought he was afraid.
"You know each other?" Asked Hobbes.
The man did not react. He was looking at Pinocchio. Pinocchio licked his bottom lip slowly. Carefully getting a grip on himself. He shook his head slowly. Not wanting to frighten Hobbes. To startle Florence. "No, my mistake. Sorry."
The man nodded as if accepting the apology. "I can give you some food for your journey."
Hobbes was about to accept but Pinocchio shook his head. His voice this time was quiet, solicitious. "No, thank you, that won't be necessary. We've already taken up enough of your time and good will."
Hobbes frowned but said nothing. The man did not press his offer but stepped out of the room. Hobbes looked at Florence but she shrugged. No wiser than Hobbes. Pinocchio got up and dressed then they said their goodbyes and stepped out of the house. Pinocchio was the last to leave. He looked into the long lean face of their host. Leaned in close enough to whisper so no one would overhear him. "You stay away from Hobbes and Florence."
He seemed amused. "Still deluding yourself, Mike?"
"You have no right to assume the moral high ground, Taylor, so don't lecture me about what's real and what's imaginary."
"I could help you."
Pinocchio resisted the urge to spit. "I'd rather dig my own grave."
"You're standing in it right now."
Pinocchio sneered to cover up the fear creeping into his heart. Devouring his soul. "I won't let you take him."
"You can't stop the inevitable."
"Oh, yes I can."
A mocking look smiled back at him. "Because he's the One? Who are you kidding, Mike? He's a bit of a kid. And the healer? She couldn't even heal you."
Pinocchio knew why. Knew it had nothing to do with the freeking sun. Nothing to do with anything natural. Taylor had been playing with them and he would not stand for it any more. "Just back off."
"You'll see me again, Mike, you know that."
"On my deathbed not before."
"If that's the way you want it."
"Yeah. Just so long as you leave Hobbes out of it."
For a moment they said nothing then Taylor nodded. Satisfied, Pinocchio turned and stepped out of the cabin without a word. He walked off briskly to pick up their path, not once looking behind him. Hobbes gave him a quizzical look but he was not talking. Florence picked up the dog and they fell back into their routine as if they had never left it. They trudged up the rise and a light rain began to fall. Pinocchio raised his head and let it trickle down his face and laughed unexpectedly. Hobbes grinned, his worries slipping away from him. He ran up the rise to join him, for once blessing the rain if only because it had made his friend laugh. Florence paused to look back. Curious. Noticed there was no sign of the little shack. Nothing but empty ground behind them. She turned and followed Pinocchio and Hobbes as they trudged down the other side of the rise. She had the strangest feeling that Pinocchio knew the shack was already gone. As they walked further away from the spot his mood grew lighter, the rain stopped and a watery sun shone weakly down at them. Pinocchio looked at his two friends and smiled. Deliriously happy to be given a second chance. Determined not to mess it up.
end