The pain was excruciating. The Golem sank to his knees, clutching his torn arm with his good hand. He wanted to black out. He wanted it to stop.
But he knew he could have neither.
Closing his eyes, focusing on finding a still point, removing the pain from his mind wasn’t an option. If he closed his eyes, even for a second, his quarry might escape. And he couldn’t allow that. So he had to give himself the mental and emotional equivalent of a field dressing. Attempt to block it out as much as possible and keep going.
He struggled to his feet, took a couple of deep breaths. Tried to stop his head from spinning. Concentrate on his task. He was a soldier. He was being paid to deliver a service.
So do it, he told himself.
The Golem resumed his walk towards the house. He saw the figure through the window, panicking, hurrying to disconnect a laptop and other electronic items. He watched as the figure gave up on the wires, bundling everything together and just making for the door, laptop under his arm.
The Golem would be ready for him.
He increased his speed, breathing heavily each time his booted feet thudded on the ground. Reached the door of the house. Tried it. Locked.
Of course.
Clutching his arm, he tried to move quickly round the side of the house, stop his target from leaving that way. He found him exiting by the dog kennels. The man stopped, stared at him. Face illuminated by fear.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘you … you don’t have to do this … ’
The Golem said nothing. Just stood there waiting for the man to make a move.
The man had the laptop under one arm, gripping it hard, clutching it against his body. His other hand was hidden. He looked like he was torn between running and fighting.
Fight or flight. The Golem knew that feeling well. He had lost count of the times he had come up against someone, had to anticipate which way they would go. Had to be ready if they did either.
The Golem said nothing. Usually his silence unnerved opponents; this time it was out of necessity. He didn’t have the energy to speak as well as move. Didn’t trust his mouth not to scream if he opened it.
‘I’m going to have money soon. Lots of money … ’ the man continued. ‘I can give you … half. You want half?’
No response.
‘Whatever, then. Whatever you want. As much as you want. Please … please don’t … ’ The man edged forward slightly, eyes pleading. ‘Don’t kill me … ’
The Golem stood his ground. The man, shoulders hunched, body imploring, moved towards him.
‘Please … ’
The Golem let him come. Made his job easier.
The man drew near. When he reached arm’s length, his left hand appeared from behind his back. He was holding a huge kitchen knife. His eyes glittered and he brought it forward, straight towards the Golem’s chest. He screamed as he lunged.
Last reserves of adrenalin kicking in, the Golem pivoted, moving his torso away from the blade. It struck him in the arm – his right arm – slicing along his bicep, sticking in. More pain.
His assailant quickly pulled it out, jabbed and slashed again. The Golem felt his arm being cut, sliced. His head swirled as the pain increased. He was staggering, about to black out.
His attacker sensed victory. The Golem could see it in his eyes. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Wouldn’t allow it to happen.
The man took another swing with the blade. It connected with the Golem’s right side. He stuck the blade in hard. His eyes blazed. He couldn’t believe he was winning.
The Golem had to do something. He had to turn the situation into an opportunity. He moved in close to his assailant, trying to ignore the feel of razor-sharp metal being pushed further into his body as he did so.
He reached out his right hand. Took his attacker by the throat.
His opponent knew immediately what was happening. What the Golem was doing to him. He tried to wriggle out of the grip, push his body away from the attack. Couldn’t. Even though the Golem’s grip was weaker than usual, it was still stronger than most people’s.
Stronger than his assailant could break.
The knife dropped from the man’s fingers. The laptop from his other hand. He brought both hands up to his throat, clawed at the Golem’s fingers, tried desperately to prise them off.
The Golem felt pain running all over his body. Like he had been trussed up in electrified barbed wire. He tried to ignore it, concentrate on this one task, the job he had been paid for.
His assailant struggled. The Golem locked his fingers. Squeezed harder.
‘I want more life, fucker … ’
Attacker became victim. His face reddened, turned purple. His eyes bulged, looked ready to pop. His constricted throat made a rattling, gurgling sound. He stopped struggling.
The Golem felt the man’s body begin to weaken, start to go limp. He gripped even harder, summoning his remaining strength to do so.
Eventually his victim’s body lost the will to fight. The Golem’s will was stronger.
He released his grip, watched as the body slumped to the ground, looked down at it.
‘Time to die … ’
His head felt light, his legs, arms trembled. His own body was going to give up soon. He knew that.
He heard a noise. Turned.
Saw his Prius rocking, moving, coming to a halt. The front left side crumpled, the light hanging out through smashed glass like a distended eyeball.
He saw the car that had knocked his out of the way driving off. Guessed that the occupants of the caravan had been in there.
Bending down and almost keeling over, he picked up the laptop and turned. Made his way slowly down the drive, past the corpses of the dogs, back to his car. His self-preservation instinct overrode everything else.
He got behind the wheel, put the car in gear, drove off.
He made it about half a mile down the road before pulling in to the entrance of a forest and passing out.