by Aaron Hodges
“We were all close in the beginning, the eight of us,” Richard said, seeming to pluck the questions from her mind. “Jasmine and I were in separate cells from Ashley and Sam and the…others, but we spent time on the training field together. That was before things got bad, before people started to die.”
“How long were you there for?” Liz managed to croak.
“Eight weeks before you lot showed up,” he replied. “For the first three weeks, there were no deaths. Then things changed, the doctors became more urgent, pushed us harder. They started taking us away in twos…” He trailed off, swallowing. “Faces began to go missing.”
“And then they came for you?”
Richard nodded. “It wasn’t until I ended up in that padded room with Jeremy…it wasn’t until then that I realized how evil the doctors were, how perverse. We refused at first, when the voice told us to fight. But they made us…” His voice broke as he started to sob.
“You killed him,” Liz murmured.
Richard didn’t look up. “He was my friend,” he said, his voice filled with self-loathing. “I told them I’d rather die. But those damn collars…and then Jeremy…”
Tears streamed down Richard’s face. Liz reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. A shiver went through him, spreading to the dark green wings hanging limply from his back.
After a long pause, Richard sucked in a breath and continued. “Jeremy refused to play their games. I’ll never forget his face, when he looked at me that last time. He had a sad smile on his lips, but his eyes…there was no give in them. He shook his head, then turned and walked across to the one-way mirror. Before anyone could react, he slammed his head into the glass,” Richard swallowed, his voice trembling. “He did it three times before the guards reached him. They tackled him to the ground, but by then he barely had the strength to stand. The mirror was covered in his blood. It didn’t take long for the doctors to make their decision.”
Liz closed her eyes, imagining the scene. Chris had told her what had happened when William could no longer fight. A doctor had entered and given the boy a lethal injection. He had died writhing in agony.
“You didn’t kill him, Richard,” she whispered. “His blood is on their hands.”
Richard’s green eyes were watching her. They glinted in the moonlight, and she quickly looked away, unable to face the despair lurking in their depths. “You and Chris, you have no idea what it’s like. You didn’t know Joshua and William, when you fought them. It was different for us. We had faced the horrors of the facility together, suffered hand in hand against whatever those monsters threw at us. And then to stand there, to make that choice. No, I didn’t kill him.” Richard let out a long, shuddering breath. “But I would have. I think he knew that.”
Silence met his words. Liz stared at the sky, unable to find an answer, to comprehend the guilt and sorrow warring within the boy beside her. Richard was right. Joshua had been a stranger to her. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. When it had come down to his life, or her own, the answer had been simple.
Finally, she spoke again: “It was the same for Ashley and Sam. You must know that. So why do you hate them?”
“Hate them?” Richard shook his head. “I don’t hate them. They did what they had to in order to survive, just like the rest of us. But…every time I see them, I see Jeremy again, standing there, sacrificing his life for mine. I can’t face them, because all they do is remind me what happened, of what I would have done to save myself.”
“But when Ashley fell…”
He shivered then. “We were dead to each other a long time ago, Liz,” he said, his voice breaking, “but, in truth, I didn’t have the courage to say goodbye.”
On an impulse, Liz reached out and wrapped an arm around Richard. The boy crumpled at her touch, his strength failing him. She pulled him tight against her, feeling his sorrow, his silent sobs as he buried his head in her shoulder.
When Richard finally drew back, he could not meet her eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. Slowly, he recovered his composure. “I guess, in the end, it won’t matter. We’re all going to end up like Ashley, one way or another.”
Liz flinched at the bitterness in Richard’s voice. Icy fingers wrapped around her throat, like the ghost of the collar she had once worn. Ashley’s face from the dream appeared in Liz’s mind, the accusing eyes, the pallid grey fingers reaching for her. Pushing down against the rock, she stood.
“No,” Liz said, drawing in a mouthful of the mountain air. She concentrated on her wings, felt them lift and stretch, her black feathers tingling in the breeze. Looking down at Richard, she shook her head. “They won’t catch me. They won’t take me back. I’d rather die.”
Richard gave a sad smile. “Brave words, but how long will they last? How long will any of us last against them? They’re after us now—Halt, the guards, the government, everyone. They’ll come for us with everything they have. We’ve kept ahead of them in the mountains, but out there—” he waved a hand down the valley “—in the lowlands, in the cities, that’s their territory.”
“The cities might belong to them, but the countryside is mine,” Liz growled. “Out here, the government is not the power it pretends to be in the cities. The Western Allied States are huge—they cannot be everywhere, see everything. The people in the countryside tolerate them, because they don’t have the power to resist, but there is no love lost for the government here. That’s how I avoided them for so long.”
Richard shrugged. “We’re a little more conspicuous now. You know, with the wings and all.”
Liz laughed softly. “There is that.” She smiled. “But we can hide our wings. We’ll find jackets or something. We can avoid the hunters, at least until the chase dies down.”
“They’ll hunt us to the ends of the earth, Liz. We’re a dark secret they want buried. Even our wondrous Electors are bound to ask a few questions of the President if the truth comes out.” Richard paused. “And besides, a life on the run doesn’t sound like much of a life to me.”
Liz shivered, remembering the long days and nights alone in the wild, the uncertainty, the fear of being caught. She had spent two years living that life, not knowing when the day would finally come that they found her. “No…” she whispered, “it’s not. We need to fight back.”
It was Richard’s turn to chuckle. “Sure, let me know how that works out.”
“We’ll find a way,” Liz replied, recalling Ashley’s words from so long ago. “They’re only human, Richard.”
Richard’s emerald eyes found her in the darkness. “After all they’ve done, do you truly believe that?” he asked. “The ways they’ve changed us, they’re not possible, Liz. These people, they lost their humanity long ago.”
Shivering, Liz look away, the wings suddenly heavy on her back. Everything they had become, every extra ounce of strength, of agility they now possessed, was thanks to Halt and Angela and the other doctors. All seemed far beyond the realms of possibility. Liz’s stomach clenched as she realized she had no response to Richard’s words.
Silence fell then, as each drifted into the chaos of their own thoughts. Returning to the boulder, Liz resumed her seat. Together, they sat looking out over the mountains, watching as the glow of the new day slowly appeared over the distant peaks.
As the sun’s warmth found her, Liz closed her eyes. Whatever had come before, today was a new day, and she was determined to make the most of it.
After all, who knew how many they had left?
45
Chris sucked in a breath, reveling in the icy air filling his lungs. A gale howled around him, tugging at his lengthening hair and rustling his feathers. His wings stretched out on either side of him, their concave surface catching in the wind, sending him higher and higher, until the treetops were little more than specks far below.
A mile above the rugged ground, Chris watched the giant redwoods drift by. They stood in groves amongst their smaller relatives, towering above the rest of the f
orest, striving for glory. But their height was nothing to what Chris and Liz and the others had achieved. Their only rivals were the snow-capped mountains at their backs. A cloudless sky extended all around, seeming to stretch away to infinity.
For a while, Chris allowed the others their wonder, savoring in the freedom of the open air. Just a short week ago, heights had been a terror to him, the thought of plummeting helplessly to his death his greatest nightmare. Now he was the master of the sky, his fears caged, vanquished by the power of his wings.
Sadly, they could not remain in the open for long. Beyond the jagged peaks, they were exposed in the empty sky. Though there had been little sign of pursuit in the mountains, they had heard the helicopters in the distance. There was no doubt the government would be coming for them.
Folding his wings, Chris pulled into a dive and shot towards the distant trees. The air whistled in his ears and tore at his clothing as he gave a wild scream. Slowly, he eased his wings out a few inches, lifting his body slowly from the dive. As the trees closed, he unfurled them to their full length, leveling out just above the canopy.
The others joined him, and together they drifted over the treetops. Chris noticed even Jasmine wore a wild grin, her eyes alive with exhilaration. Chris allowed himself to glide lower, scanning the dense branches, searching for a way through. His chest burned and pain threaded its way down his back. He desperately needed to rest, and he doubted the others were any better off.
Spotting a gap, he made for it, struggling to retract his wings enough to fit through without going into freefall. Even so, he felt his descent accelerating. As he lurched in the air, a branch caught his arm, throwing him off-balance. Then he was through, dropping into the open space beneath the canopy.
Finding himself still thirty feet above the ground, Chris quickly spread his wings. His descent slowed, but he was still falling too quickly when he struck the ground. The shock of the impact took his feet out from underneath him, and he rolled to break his fall.
Coming to a rest on his back, Chris picked himself up and brushed off the pine needles, hoping the others had not seen his uninspiring landing. His cheeks warmed as he found them standing nearby, broad grins on their faces.
He flashed his best scowl. “And that, children, is how not to land.”
Liz laughed. “Who are you calling ‘children’? Pretty sure half of us are older than you.”
Chris shrugged and rolled his shoulders, trying to remove the knot that had collected in the muscles between his shoulder blades. His wings seemed to connect in some way to just about every muscle of his back, as well as those in his chest and abdomen. The collective strength of those muscles, along with their increased muscle density, provided them the power they needed for flight.
Unfortunately, it also meant every inch of his torso burned at the end of each day.
“How do we get back up?” Jasmine was looking at the canopy.
Where they stood on the forest floor, the hole they’d passed through was invisible. An army of trees surrounded them, their red trunks straight and smooth as they reached for the hidden sky. Brown pine needles smothered the ground, and there was no trace of any undergrowth. Distantly, Chris recalled from biology class that redwood species leeched chemicals into the topsoil, removing nutrients and preventing other plant species from colonizing.
“I think we should go on foot for a while,” he said at last. Their progress would be slow, but at least they would be hidden from prying eyes. “I don’t think I can fly much farther without food, and it feels too exposed up there, out of the mountains.”
“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Richard made a face, then turned and walked off through the trees. Jasmine followed him, the young nameless girl shadowing her, leaving Liz and Chris staring after them.
Rolling his eyes, Chris flashed Liz a halfhearted grin and started after them. In truth, he was glad to relinquish the lead. He still wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up with the unofficial title, but the weight of responsibility had quickly grown exhausting, and he could use the rest.
His heart warmed as Liz fell in beside him and reached out to take his hand. She grinned, her eyes shining with some hidden emotion. He found himself smiling back, the gesture genuine now.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Jasmine, Richard and the girl were pulling ahead, picking their way easily over the tree roots. But with Liz’s warm fingers clutched around his hand, Chris felt no rush to catch up. Liz’s sudden show of affection had stirred him from his melancholy, and he found himself thinking again of the night in the cell, when he had first fallen asleep beside her.
Liz shrugged. “I’m okay.” She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m sorry I’ve been…distant.”
Chris squeezed her hand and pulled her towards him. Sliding his arm around her waist, he held her close. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the rich scent of her hair. She shifted closer, nestling her head beneath his chin. They walked like that for a while, until it became too awkward to manage while avoiding the roots and spiderwebs crisscrossing the path.
“How are your wings feeling?” he asked eventually.
At their mention, Liz’s wings lifted slightly, shivering in the air before settling back against her clothing. “Not too bad.” Liz turned and winked at him. “I’m a bit lighter than you. Less work.”
Laughing, Chris bent himself to the task of keeping up with Richard. He had to admit, the boy set a cracking pace, and he was soon puffing hard in the morning air. The scent of the pine trees brought back distant memories, and Chris found his thoughts drifting to more pleasant times, to cold mornings spent beneath Christmas trees, opening presents with his mother and father.
Each lost in their thoughts, they steadily made their way down through the foothills. Signs of life were everywhere now. Deep scars in nearby tree trunks showed where bears had marked their territory, some more than twice Chris’s height. Dry pine needles crunched beneath their feet, warning the forest creatures of their approach, but Chris still caught flickers of movement from the corners of his eyes, as squirrels and mice ducked out of sight. The soft chirp of cicadas marked the end of winter. Silently, Chris wondered whether the world had changed during their long months of imprisonment.
By sunset, the air beneath the trees was filled with the buzz of insects. The first chirps of the evening chorus soon followed, as birds flitted between the tree trunks, chasing their prey.
Without the sun or mountains for guidance, it was difficult to judge their progress, but Chris guessed from the burning in his thighs they’d walked several miles. It was a frustrating pace after their rapid flight through the mountains, but there was little they could do about it.
Liz at least helped to fill their empty stomachs. As they walked, she collected berries and nuts from various trees and plants. At one point, she even gathered a few fat white grubs from beneath the bark of a tree. Hungry as he was, Chris wolfed it all down without question, though he hesitated maybe half a second longer with the grubs.
They finally came to a stop as darkness fell beneath the trees, settling down in a shallow indentation in the earth. It offered little in the way of protection, but it was the best they could find in the shadows. As they had done every night since their escape, they set a watch. Richard drew the short straw for first watch, and one by one the rest of them drifted off to sleep.
An hour later, Chris woke to a hand on his shoulder. Blinking in the darkness, he found Liz sitting beside him, a sly smile on her face. Before he could question her, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Still groggy, he struggled to wake as her fingers twisted in his hair. Then he was kissing her back, hard and fast.
When she finally pulled away, Chris took the chance to catch his breath. He reached out and pulled her close, his heart beating hard in his chest.
“Who’s on watch?” he breathed.
“Richard still.” She smiled in the darkness. “He’s over there. Come on.” She st
ood, tugging at his hand.
Chris obeyed, staggering to his feet as Liz pulled him in the opposite direction from where Richard sat. With the thick canopy overhead, the darkness was complete, and even with their heightened senses they struggled to find a path. Still half-asleep, Chris stumbled along after Liz, barely able to keep up. But each time he slowed, she would look back, her eyes flashing, her eager smile drawing him on.
They managed maybe a dozen yards before Chris tripped over a tree root. Toppling forwards, he dragged Liz with him, and together they tumbled to the ground. They rolled across the soft bed of pine needles, their wings pulled tight against their backs, their whispered laughter echoing through the trees.
When they finally came to a stop, Chris found himself lying atop Liz. He stared down at her, wondering at the brightness of her sapphire eyes, and found himself smiling again.
“Hey there.” He smiled at her.
Giggling, Liz tried to wriggle free, but he refused to move, pinning her to the ground. Leaning down, he kissed her. She stilled as their lips met, her hands no longer pushing him away, but wrapping around him, pulling him closer.
She let out a long breath when they parted, and laughed again. Then her wings beat suddenly against the ground, and she rolled, sending Chris toppling sideways. Before he could recover she leapt on his chest and straddled him.
“Gotcha,” she laughed.
Chris gently brushed a pine needle from her hair. Her eyes closed at his touch and her breath quickened. Silently, she reached up and pressed his hand to her cheek.
“Chris,” she breathed.
Then she was leaning down, her lips pressing against his, and their hands were fumbling at each other’s clothing. White-hot fire swept through Chris, stealing away thought and reason, leaving only the burning of desire. Blood pounded in his ears as the buttons of his shirt gave way, and he felt the heat of Liz’s hands on his chest. He fumbled with Liz’s top as need rose within him. With an awkward, desperate wriggle, she pulled it over her head, leaving it tangled in the black feathers of her wings.