by Aaron Hodges
Silently, Chris waved for the others to get into cover, not trusting his voice, in case it carried down to those below. He scrambled up the last few feet of the gravel slope and dropped down into the canyon.
The others were quick to join him, coming over the lip one by one. They retreated behind the boulders lodged in the mouth of the pass, their eyes on Chris, waiting for him to speak.
Heart pounding in his chest, Chris slipped back out from behind the boulders. Crouching low, he half-crawled back up to the gravel lip. At the entrance to the pass, he dropped to his stomach and crawled the last few inches. There, he lifted his head and peered at the facility.
And immediately dropped back down.
36
Chris slammed his fist into the gravel, cursing their luck.
A few more seconds, and we would have been clear.
He slid down the slope to the others. Biting back his frustration, he only shook his head at their questioning looks. Below, a line of black figures were streaming up towards the canyon. They had been spotted. Now all they could do was flee, and hope to outrun their pursuers.
“They’ve seen us,” he hissed. He began to thread his way through the boulders strewn across the canyon floor. “Let’s go.”
Gritting his teeth against the howling wind, Chris picked his way over the rocky ground, taking care to avoid patches of ice. The stones were slick, worn smooth by the passage of floodwaters, but at least they were gentler on his feet. Above them the canyon walls closed in, stretching up two, almost three hundred feet.
Rocks ground against one another as the others followed, shifting beneath their weight. To their right the river tumbled over its stony bed, roaring as it rushed down a series of cascades, making its slow journey through the twisting canyon. In the spring it would rise with the melting snow, filling the gorge, but still in the grips of winter, it remained thankfully low.
Chris’s gaze carried up the valley, following the sheer walls as they twisted out of sight. He scanned the ground ahead, picking out a trail amidst the rock-strewn ground. He was quickly adapting to the weight of his wings. His muscles surged with a newfound energy, with the joy of freedom. Behind them the mouth of the canyon remained empty, but even so he picked up the pace, springing from stone to stone with hardly a pause between. Fear of the guards and their guns drove him on. Though they were moving at a good pace, their pursuers did not have to catch them—only set them in their rifle’s sights.
Redoubling his efforts, Chris felt the granite cliffs press in around him. From somewhere ahead, the roar of water grew louder. Like distant thunder it drew him on, calling him deeper into the mountains. Sucking in great mouthfuls of damp air, Chris raced for the first bend in the canyon.
Boulders the size of cars littered the ground. Where the canyon narrowed they clustered in groups, almost blocking their passage. They scrambled over them one by one, slipping on the wet surfaces while the others watched, awaiting their turn.
Chris’s ears tingled as a voice carried up the canyon. Acting on instinct, he grabbed Liz and pulled her behind a boulder, waving for the others to get down. An instant later the shriek of bullets tore the air, followed by the sharp crack of rock shattering. Cowering behind shelter, they watched as the boulder on which they’d just been standing disintegrated. Hot lead tore great chunks from the rock, turning smooth stone to pockmarks.
For a moment, Chris stood frozen, terrified by the sheer display of power. In his mind he saw himself caught by the bullets, saw his flesh tear and his bones shatter. Then Liz grasped him by the shoulder and shook him. He blinked, returning to the present to find her crystal eyes staring at him, just a few feet away.
On impulse he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. They kissed, hard and fast, the moment filled with a desperate passion, with the thrill of a chase. A second later they broke apart and turned to face the others. Richard raised an eyebrow, but Chris ignored him. The first bend in the canyon was close now, just a few more yards away. But in the open space they would be exposed to the guards and their unforgiving bullets.
Yet they had to move. No doubt men were already climbing towards them, growing closer with every passing second.
“We run for it,” was all Chris said, before he turned and leapt from cover, unwilling to wait and see whether the others followed.
The buzz of bullets turned to a roar as he appeared from behind the boulder. Then he was racing across the open ground, stones slipping beneath his bare feet, faster than thought. With each step the shriek of bullets grew louder, as the guards far below adjusted their aim. Stone chips tore his flesh as the impact of bullets shook the ground beneath him. He ducked low, the hackles on his neck rising in anticipation of pain.
His wings snapped open, beating hard, driving him faster. He stumbled as he miscalculated his next jump, almost falling before recovering with a wild wave of arms. Liz bounded past, flashing him a sideways glance. But he was already up and beside her, pushing hard, his lungs burning not with exhaustion, but fear. Around him he heard the gasps of the others, their desperate, unintelligible cries.
And over it all, the screech of bullets.
Suddenly the air was clear, the cliff rising up to shield them from view. Together they drew to a stop, sucking in long mouthfuls of air, their eyes wild as they looked at each other, shocked and elated, thrilled by their survival.
They did not pause for long. They had won a respite, but they were still far from free. Ahead the canyon narrowed, the twists and turns coming closer together, and for the next thirty minutes they did not see their pursuers again. The rocks grew larger, until only boulders remained. They blocked the gorge, the creek threading its way between them, over and under, plunging ever down towards the hidden guards. The roar of water continued to grow, and the taste of the air changed, filling with moisture. In his mind, Chris pictured the stream cascading down into the canyon, and prayed it would offer them an escape.
He pressed on, drawing the others with him. The canyon floor grew steeper, winding up towards the clifftops high overhead. Their progress slowed, the going becoming more difficult. In places they were forced to backtrack where the way grew too steep, too treacherous to pass.
Finally, Chris bounded around the final bend in the canyon. The roar of water turned to a deafening thunder. His stride slowed as he took in the sight above. Beside him, Liz continued her upward march, her head down, eyes fixed on the ground. It was only when he reached out and grabbed her shoulder that she looked up, that she saw where he had led them.
37
Chris had not been wrong about the waterfall. Three hundred feet above their heads, a river rushed over the edge of the cliff and out into the void. Water filled the air, whirling as it was caught by the wind, turning it to a fine mist, to a light rain that fell all around them. At the base of the falls, the remains of the river crashed down onto a jagged pile of rocks. From there, the stream wound its way through the canyon to where the seven of them stood.
Beyond the waterfall, the canyon twisted back on itself, ending in a wall of sheer rock. A pile of rubble had accumulated against the cliff opposite the waterfall, stretching up almost two hundred feet. Straggly patches of vegetation sprouted from the rubble, fed by the ready source of water.
Chris closed his eyes, feeling the spray of water on his cheeks, even where they stood several hundred feet away. It settled in his hair and trickled down his face, until he gave an angry shake of his head and wiped it away. He clenched his fists, shivering with cold and frustration.
There was no way they could climb those cliffs, no way they could reach the top before the bullets of the guards found them. He had led them to a dead end, into a trap. With the guards closing in, there was nowhere left to go.
Looking at the others, he saw his despair reflected in their faces. Only Ashley seemed undaunted. She walked up beside him, her eyes traveling up the canyon, to the pile of rubble. He turned, following her gaze, straining to see through the mist. Jagged bo
ulders clustered around the top of the rubble, and the cliffs above them were cracked and broken. At some point, part of the cliff must have given way. There was no telling for sure, but from a distance it looked as though there was a crack they might be able to climb.
“Let’s go,” Ashley said, flashing him a smile as she took the lead.
Chris was glad to relinquish the position. The weight of failure hung heavy on his shoulders. The others did not speak, but he could feel the eyes of Jasmine and Richard on his back. Ahead, Ashley seemed to glide across the rocks, moving with a grace Chris wished he could match. She reached the rubble mound well before the rest of them and started up.
Following her, Chris only managed a few steps before the loose gravel slipped beneath his feet. He threw out an arm, grasping the branches of a disheveled bush, then screamed as thorns tore into his palm. Cursing, he regained his balance and released the bush, only then daring to look at his hand.
Dark marks spotted his palm, the broken thorn tips embedded deep in his flesh. Blood seeped from a dozen cuts and the skin was already turning red around the marks. He swore again, but there was little he could do about it now. Cradling his arm, he moved after Ashley.
The mist closed around them as they climbed, soaking them to the skin. Chris shivered as a drop of water ran down his back and caught in his feathers. A tingle ran up his spine as a thought came to him. The feathered appendages trembled in response.
Fly!
Chris shook his head, casting the idea back out into the void. With the winds roaring through the canyon, and the cliffs pressing close, it would be suicide.
As they neared the top of the mound, the wind picked up speed. It howled down over the cliffs to pummel at them, tearing at their wings and threatening to send them plummeting to the rocks far below. Above, the river continued its eternal plunge over the granite cliffs, filling the air with swirling clouds of water vapor.
A cry came from above. Chris looked up in time to see Ashley slip, then threw himself to the side as a rock bounced down towards him. He shouted a warning to the others, but thankfully they had spread out, and it tumbled harmlessly past them.
Recovering, Ashley continued her ascent, though Chris noticed she was favoring her left hand now. But she was already drawing level with the ring of boulders crowning the slope. Picking up his pace, Chris soon joined her at the base of the great rocks. Together they waited for the others to join them.
Once the seven had gathered on the narrow ledge, they turned to face the boulders. Here, Ashley took the lead again, squeezing in between two of the boulders. The way was narrow, and the extra bulk of their wings didn’t help, but with a little difficulty, Chris managed to follow her. Ahead, the crevice ended at another boulder, but Ashley was already making short work of scrambling up, using the rocks on either side of her to climb.
Chris waited for her to reach the top before starting his ascent. The sharp pitch of the boulders and his injured hand made it difficult to find purchase. Cursing to himself, he pressed his back against one of the rocks to wedge himself in place, then levered himself up bit by bit using his arms and legs.
When he reached the top, Ashley was already gone. Following her wet footprints through the boulders, his optimism began to return. If they could wedge themselves into the crack in the cliff, they might be able to scramble up in the same way he had just managed. It would be a long and difficult haul—at least a hundred feet remained to be climbed—but it was better than waiting for the guards to catch them.
Chris stumbled as he emerged onto open ground. Realizing he was in the center of the ring of boulders, he looked around and found Ashley with her head pressed against the cliff, her fists clenched against the sheer stone. She turned as he approached, her eyes finding his.
His stomach twisted as Ashley slid down the wall until she sat, and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved as silent sobs shook her, tears spilling between her fingers.
Behind her the cliff stretched up another hundred feet, smooth and unmarked, the shadow they had thought was a crack no more than a change in the rock, a darker shade of granite.
They were trapped.
38
Liz paused as she emerged from the boulders and found Chris and Ashley slumped against the cliff. Their faces were ashen, their eyes despondent. In that instant, she knew they were finished. Her shoulders sagged, but she moved across to Chris and placed a hand on his head. He did not look up, just sat staring at the barren gravel.
Crouching, Liz pulled him to her chest. Stones rattled as Sam appeared beside her. He squatted by Ashley, whispering softly to her, pulling her up, getting her moving again. Trapped or not, there was no time to pause, to sit and wait for death to come for them.
“I’m sorry,” Chris murmured.
Liz slid her fingers through his hair and down to his chin, turning his head to face her. “This isn’t your fault, Chris. You were right, this was our best chance. If we’d gone the other way, they would have already shot us dead. Now get up. We have to decide what to do next.”
It took several tugs on Chris’s arm before he gathered himself and stood. By then, Sam had Ashley looking more herself, though Liz suspected she was only wearing a brave face. But then, that’s all any of them had left now.
“So, what now?” Jasmine crossed her arms, her eyes flashing as she looked around the circle. “I’m not going back.”
Richard nodded his agreement.
Liz shivered, thinking of the guards creeping up the canyon towards them, of their black rifles shining in the afternoon light, promising death.
No, we can’t go back.
To go back now would be worse than if they’d never escaped. They had tasted freedom, had rid themselves of the awful collars and breathed the fresh mountain air. And freezing though they were, with their wings drawn tight around their torsos, they were alive.
“There’s nowhere left to go,” Chris said, his voice cracking.
“Then we fight,” Sam put in, his brow creased. Liz had never seen him so serious.
Around the circle, the others nodded, but Liz found herself shaking her head. Stepping past them, she climbed the nearest boulder, until she was perched atop it. She stared out over the gorge, peering through the swirling mist, seeking out their pursuers. The wind tore at her, sending her black hair flying across her face, but she ignored it.
She heard scuffling from behind her as the others climbed up, but did not turn. “What do you think?” she shouted over the wind.
Chris and the others gathered around her and looked out over the edge.
Chris swallowed and retreated a step, his eyes widening. The others stood in varying states of fear, though none were as close to the edge as Liz. To her right was the slope they’d just climbed, but directly beneath the boulder, the gravel fell away in a sheer drop, all the way to the canyon floor two hundred feet below.
Standing there, Liz felt no fear, only a silent resolve.
She would not go quietly back to her chains, to the cold cruelty of the doctors, to their needles and torture. She would not surrender to their bullets, to their harsh violence.
No, she would fight, she would resist, she would rage.
“You know,” Ashley mused beside her, “they say birds just know. That their parents push them from the nest, and before they hit the ground, it comes to them.”
“Care to go first?” Sam muttered.
Silence fell then as they each stared out over the canyon, watching as the tiny specks of the guards came into view. They crawled towards them like deadly ants, eyes searching the boulders strewn around them. Their gaze did not lift to where the seven of them stood, not yet.
Shivering, Liz looked at the others.
They looked back, waiting.
Turning to the edge, Liz took a deep breath. Movement came from beside her as Chris stepped forward, his fingers reaching out to entwine with hers. He glanced at her, his face drained of color. Naked fear looked out from his eye
s, and she remembered his haunting climb up the training tower. Even so, he smiled.
“Just like baby birds, right?” He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a shriek.
Liz nodded, her stomach swirling. She closed her eyes, focusing on the foreign appendages on her back, feeling their presence, embracing them. They were still alien to her, a violation of her body…but she needed them now, needed to embrace them as a part of her.
Concentrating, Liz willed them to life.
With a crack of unfurling feathers, the great black expanse of her wings snapped open. The others gasped, but beside her Liz sensed movement. She smiled as Chris’s tawny brown wings stretched out towards her own. A tremor shook her as their wingtips met, their feathers brushing together.
Liz flashed one last look back at the others. They wore wide grins on their face now, and their eyes were alive with excitement. She grinned back, and with Chris beside her, turned to face open air.
Together, they leapt out into the void.
39
Chris’s stomach lurched into his chest as he plunged from the edge. The ground raced towards him at a terrifying speed, the jagged rocks looming large in his vision. His fear of falling realized, he opened his mouth and screamed.
Then his wings gave a sharp crack as they caught the air, and he was soaring, the wild wind catching in his twenty-four-foot wingspan, driving him up, up, up. His stomach twisted again, dropping sharply as the ground fell away. Chris let out another scream as he shot past the pale faces of his friends still standing atop the boulders.
The fear slid like Chris like water, and concentrating, he focused on turning, beating his wings to counter the powerful drafts swirling around him, and risked a wave to those below. The others waved back, then with only a moment’s hesitation, they followed Chris and Liz off the cliff.