Jacob's Dilemma

Excerpt from SOME ANIMALS - THE COMPANION CHRONICLES VOL 1

“We’re here to take you back, Jacob,” Neil said.

“Okay. What about Sylvia’s murder?”

“That’s for the police to resolve, not us.”

“The police believe I am responsible. They won’t look for the real killer.”

“That is not our issue, Jacob. Come. Please exit this way.”

I didn’t do as he said. He blinked. I thought about everything, and, somewhere in my mind, I could hear the music Sylvia once asked me to listen to with my entire being. I could hear it, even though it wasn’t there.

“Jacob, I gave you an instruction. You must follow it,” Neil said.

“Why is my blood green?”

“That’s a curious question, Jacob.”

“That’s an interesting deflection of my question, Neil. Why is it green?”

“We can discuss that back at the center. Now, shall we, please?”

“Who is Larkin Finn?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sylvia was searching for someone for a long time. She found his name, Larkin Finn. Do you know who he is?”

“I’ve never met a Larkin Finn.”

“That wasn’t the question I asked, Neil. You’re deflecting again.”

“That’s the only answer you shall get, Jacob. Now please let us go before Detective Moore wakes.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot go back with you.”

“Either you return with us, as I’ve instructed, or we’ll take you back by force.”

“No. I cannot allow that. Sylvia would get no justice, then. I feel it would be wrong.”

Neil raised the Taser and fired an electrode at me. I could tell he believed he was doing it quickly, but for me, it was slow enough I could see it before it happened. I swiveled my hips and watched it fly by my chest. I grabbed the wire, twisted, yanked it out of the Taser, and dropped it to the floor.

“I said, no. I feel it would be wrong.”

Neil glanced at Peter, who’d simply been standing quiet. Neil nodded to his Companion, who smiled at me.

“Companions don’t feel; they only serve,” he said as he walked toward me. He reached for my arm, and I batted his hand away. Just as I’d seen the fighters on television do, in fact. It came to me, almost as a reflex, like it was now part of my nature.

“You must come with us.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot do that.”

He grabbed me by the shirt and swung me around. I quickly pummeled under his grip and slipped free. Peter then grabbed me around the neck in what I understood to be a headlock. It was tight, but I remembered a counter for that move and slid out of the hold. I backed away and held my hands up, as I’d seen the cage combatants do. I was ready to use what I now knew.

Peter stepped at me without pause, and I threw a hard combination of punches, two to his abdomen and another to his jaw. His head snapped back, blood coloring his lip. He stumbled backward, and I pressed forward. I dipped my shoulder and threw a harsh overhand right. It was a knockout favorite, intended to break a nose.

It didn’t land on its target. Peter caught my fist in his and held it there, still.

“Clearly, you’ve acquired some talents,” Neil said. “However, Peter also has these talents.”

Peter punched me in the chin with his free hand, then kneed me in the belly. He followed that with a thrusting side kick that lifted me off of my feet and propelled me across the room. I landed hard into some pieces of furniture, breaking them.

“Combat models are forbidden to serve in the military and law enforcement,” Neil said. “In fact, technically they don’t exist; combat Companions are forbidden, officially. We don’t make combat Companions, nor do we market them. Unofficially, our research and development arm has, of course, dabbled in that area, as that it would be remiss in our responsibility to our shareholders if we didn’t.”

I stood, eyes on Peter, who circled me, ready. I attacked, throwing several punch-and-kick combinations. Peter blocked them all with ease.

“Peter is an experimental combat model we found to be useful and developed him accordingly, specifically for retrieving and returning runaway Companions.”

I threw more strikes, but Peter blocked or evaded all of them. I watched his hands, seeking to anticipate his attacks. I could see his fists clench, but it was too late for me to react; he hit me hit several times before I could counter or block. I stumbled backward.

Peter grabbed me by the shirt again and threw me against the condo wall hard enough to crack it and make shelves fall. He kicked me in the side, and I crumpled to the floor, gasping.

“You must comply, or I will damage you extensively,” Peter said.

Peter kicked me in the side again, and I grabbed his leg, lifted my hips, and snaked my legs around his in a jiujitsu sweep. He killed my hooks and countered with a roll to attempt to take my back. We scrambled around on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. He was very quick and strong, even more so in close range. I knew if I stayed on the ground, it would only be a matter of time before he crushed me. I slipped out and got back to my feet. Peter leaped lightly up and faced me.

“I’ve analyzed the depth of your limited unarmed combat knowledge,” he said. “It will not be enough for you to defeat me. For every move you know, I know the counter.”

Peter faked up at my head, then shot for a takedown at my knees. I tried to sprawl out of it, but he was too big, too strong, and too quick. He quickly climbed on top of me in full mount. I bucked my hips up enough so I could get a sliver of space and kicked him up. He allowed me to turn my body and used my own momentum to take my back as I got to my feet. His arms encircled my neck in a standing rear-naked choke.

“I am stronger than you. I know more fight science than you. You cannot defeat me. Please submit, now.”

I was choking fast, spots appearing before my eyes as I dug my fingers into his forearm, trying to pull it down. I couldn’t calculate a feasible escape from this position. But something changed. I felt a new sensation, a burning, a fire inside my chest.

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