Baby Race

     “Jenner has a clear lead,” said the louder of the two commentators excitedly. “Jackson will need a miracle to catch him now.”

     “Yes, that tumble he took at the underpass may have cost him the race. His only chance now is to take one of the shortcuts.”

     “He'd have to be desperate to try that. He'd be risking his life!”

     “Some people will take any risk to have a child, Dave. You know that.”

     Jackson tried to ignore the voices coming over the Baby Race channel as he pushed his screaming muscles to an extra effort. He thought about turning the small portable radio off, but the commentators might talk about something Jenner was doing and he might be able to use the information to his advantage. Every time they talked about how far behind he was, though, a black wave of despair would sweep over him, sapping his willpower, and he wondered whether he was doing himself more harm than good.

     Every now and then the path through the forest would hit a straight stretch and he’d be able to see his adversary ahead of him. Small in the distance, so far away, but running with a steady stride that told him that he knew he'd all but won and that all he had to do was maintain the pace. Jackson had to fight an almost overwhelming impulse to just give up. To allow his tortured limbs to rest, to suck great gasps of air into his grateful lungs. He knew, though, that if he did that he would hate himself forever. A self loathing that would stay with him for the rest of his life. This was his one chance to have a child. If he lost, he would still have tried, but if he gave up...

     In his mind he pictured the daughter he would have. She would be beautiful, with glossy dark hair and amber brown eyes that would shine and sparkle as she gazed adoringly up at him. She would have dimples at the corners of her mouth when she smiled and a laugh in her voice when she spoke. He would watch in breathless awe and wonder as she grew from baby to adulthood, gradually turning from an adorable bundle of gurgles and smells into a person with hopes, dreams and loves of her own. He would lavish every luxury on her, deny her nothing. He would care for her, love her totally and unconditionally, protect her from anything that dared try to hurt her.

     That man up ahead was trying to kill her, he thought, and he felt rage and hatred flaring up inside him. He would kill her by ensuring that she never came into existing in the first place. The fact that he was also racing for the right to have a child, that he probably hated him just as much and for the same reason, cut no ice with him. He was trying to kill his daughter! He let the rage build to a new height, used it as a source of new strength. He'd heard of fathers killing to protect their children. Of meek, mild mannered men driven to an insane fury that led to them strangling the attacker with their bare hands, the veneer of civilisation stripped away to reveal something savage and primal beneath. He sought out that primal savagery now, imagined the man ahead menacing his beautiful daughter, and he felt himself lifted up by new strength, his limbs pumping with new energy. The hard, uneven ground sped past beneath him, the trees flashing past on either side. The man ahead had grown complacent. He was allowing himself to slow a little, secure in the knowledge of victory. He would catch him up, overtake him before he knew what was happening...

     “Jackson's gaining!” the loud commentator said in his ear, and Jackson cursed violently, a spike of fear freezing his brain. If the man ahead was also listening to the commentary...

     “Jenner’s put on a new burst of speed as well,” the other commentator added with an excited raised voice. “Guess we clued him up that the race isn't over yet!”

     I guess you did! thought Jackson, and his hatred for the commentators rose until it dwarfed his hatred of the man ahead of him. The two men for whom this desperate race to have a child was nothing more than an afternoon's entertainment. And then there were the millions at home listening, the teeming multitudes most of whom had probably already won the right to have a child. How many of them emphasised with his pain, his desperation? He suddenly hated the entire human race, all thirty billion of them. Hated all previous generations whose uncontrolled breeding had created the present population crisis. He hated everyone alive, dead and not yet born. He used the hatred to power his body, to drive it on.