The Phoenix Project: Book I: Flight

by Katherine Macdonald

  Funny as the fake insults are, they can't help me. I try to think of other things that make me angry. The Institute, pulling us apart at night, making us fight one another, making me kill Beta... but every angry thought just gives way to fear. It's not fear that triggers it, and it's not quite anger. What's the connection?

  I remember feeling... threatened?

  “Shoot at me.”

  Nick blinks at me. “I'm sorry, what?”

  “Did you bring a gun?”

  “Of course I brought a gun–”

  “Shoot in my general direction. I want to see if it triggers something.”

  “But... what if I hit you?”

  I raise an incredulous eyebrow.

  “You're right, I'm far too good a shot, of course I'll shoot at you.”

  He takes his weapon out of his backpack, loads it, cocks it, and shoots it. The bullet hits the water several feet away.

  “Come on, like that's going to work.”

  “You're not bulletproof!”

  “Don't be a wimp. Closer.”

  His next shot –his next three– are much closer, but he might as well be firing daisies. I don't feel remotely threatened.

  I think about all of the other times it would have been useful to have fire powers, how I could have used it to fight back against my captors. Almost every memory comes spilling back at that single thought. All the times they told me to fight, to kill. Every time they pushed me into another experiment when I was already weak with exhaustion. Every time they dragged Ben away to do something similar, only to throw him back into our room a few hours later, bloody and whimpering.

  I could have used it the day we escaped. I could have stopped Gabe from going back. I could have saved him, saved my family from years of heartbreak–

  My breath starts to increase. My fists start to shake.

  “Ashe–”

  But there's more than that, so much more. I am overwhelmed. The memories, the feelings, the confusion... all rushes back with startling clarity. I am there, useless again.

  The cold weight of the stream intensifies, the sounds of the wilderness expand. My heart races in my chest. I can hear everything, smell everything, see everything, feel everything. This has happened before, lots in my youth, before I learned how to control it. Your already heightened senses inflame; you feel like you are drowning. But it has been years, so many years...

  “Ashe!” Nick's voice blazes in my ears.

  Flames erupt from the tips of my fingers and spread towards my elbows. My flesh feels like it's being peeled away. I start to scream, and the flames grow further and wilder. I can smell my own flesh singeing–

  Nick bolts from the bank and slams me under the water. The pain dissipates immediately. The choking fear remains, even as Nick pulls me back up and into his arms. He whispers soft words that don't quite reach me, and holds me there in the freezing cold while the world slides back to normal.

  Chapter 59

  We walk briskly back to the car, Nick a lot slower than I would like. He is soaked through, and a lot less adapted to the cold than I am. I had some extra layers to pull back on, but he is walking around in ice cold clothes.

  I insist on driving us back. Nick is shivering a great deal by this point. He removes his boots in the car, pulls out one of the sleeping bags from the back, and I whack the heating on full.

  We race back towards the base.

  “You are not a great driver,” Nick observes, as I clunkily switch gears.

  I snort.

  “What?”

  “Your grandfather said something similar.”

  “Finally, something we can agree on.”

  He leans forward to fiddle with the heating dial, and I see red marks on his wrists.

  “I burned you.”

  Nick shakes his head between shivers. “You burned yourself. I wasn't going to let you burn to death. You'd have done the same for me.”

  He's right, of course, but that does not make it any easier.

  He's still shivering when we arrive back at base, but is reluctant to go to Julia's.

  “I’m fine, I just need rest.”

  “I just need rest. The less superhuman amongst us need to see a goddamn doctor.”

  He sighs. “All right.”

  I march him down to Julia’s, whose eyes widen the minute she lays eyes on us.

  “What on earth happened to you two?”

  “We er, went for a walk in the woods,” offers Nick, “and er, I fell in a puddle.”

  “You’re both soaked through.”

  “It was a large puddle.”

  Julia narrows her eyes. “Clothes off,” she insists, drawing a curtain around us. “Both of you. I’ll fetch you something warm.”

  I do as I’m told and strip immediately. Nick is reluctant to do so at first, so I turn my back to give him a medium of privacy. We’ve barely removed our trappings before Julia returns with fresh clothes.

  “Nick, your chest!”

  I spin around, and see immediately what Nick was trying to hide; the burns on his arms and torso. They’re worse than mine, of course they are, even though he only touched me for a few seconds.

  “It’s fine,” he says quickly, “they’re just surface burns. My jacket took most of it.”

  “But– what happened?” asks Julia.

  “It... it was me,” I mumble, “I... I did that.”

  “It wasn’t your–”

  “No, no, no...”

  I back out of the curtains, tripping over something, crawling over the floor. I can’t believe what I’ve done. This is worse than the building. He was trying to help me, and I hurt him.

  “She can do what?” Julia asks incredulously, emerging from behind the curtain. Nick is talking to her, explaining what has happened, but their voices reach me as though through a fog. I feel like I’m losing myself again. I’m dribbling away, unravelling. I’m being torn apart, blown away. This can’t be happening again. What’s wrong with me?

  “She’s smoking again,” says Nick.

  “I’ll get a bucket–”

  “No, it’s fine, she can do this.”

  Nick is on all floors, the damage covered by a fresh t-shirt. He does not reach out to me, but crouches close by. “Ashe, you’re all right.”

  “But I... I...”

  “Just breathe. We’re here with you.”

  I can’t. I can’t be here with you.

  “Don’t be afraid–”

  I am always afraid.

  “I’m not afraid of you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Maybe you should.

  “Focus. Think of something good.”

  But there’s so little good, anywhere.

  I try, anyway. I think of Ben, holding my hand, running in the woods, grinning, laughing. I think of Abi’s art, of her sitting cross-legged in the sitting room, lost in some beautiful creation. I think of Mi, singing as he cooks in the kitchen, folding the clothes I could never be bothered to fold myself. I think of all of us, together.

  The way Nick smiles at me burns through these other memories. They flitter up and away, like feathers in the wind. Only he remains, the weight of his arms unfurling around me. I am untied from the world, drifting above its cares, but at the same time anchored and immovable.

  My breathing returns to normal.

  “She’s all right,” Nick says. “I told you she could do it.”

  To say Julia looks shocked is an understatement. “Your arms look a bit burned,” she says instead. “And... I may have a few questions.”

  I swallow. “I will answer as best I can.”

  ◆◆◆

  I tell Julia all I know, which isn’t much. Yes, I’ve only been able to do this recently. No, the Institute has no idea. Yes, I think I know what triggers it. No, I don’t think I can control it, very much.

  I’m worried she’ll want to lock me away, that she’ll deem me unsafe to be around, but she seems confident that I’m calm enough now. She says that she’d l
ike us both to stay tonight, just for observation, as it’s getting late and she still needs to see to Nick’s burns and check him over. We both consent, and before long are both safely installed in two of her beds. She sends a runner to let someone know I won’t be home again but not to worry.

  I didn't even think about how long I'd be gone. What must the others be thinking?

  Nick turns over on his side and pretends to fall asleep. His breathing is far too regular for sleep, but I let him pretend. Julia has bandaged him up, but I can still see the gauze bulging under his clothes. It has been a long, long time since I have hurt someone accidentally, and longer still since it was someone I cared about. Not since I was a child, learning the limits of my strength.

  Julia slips back inside our cubicle. “Do you need something for your burns?”

  “I'll be healed by morning.”

  “Do they hurt?”

  “I barely feel them.”

  Julia says nothing, but unwinds a small tub sitting beside Nick and applies a colourless ointment to my exposed skin. “You don't have to suffer, you know.”

  “Yes, I do,” I say, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. “You don't know the things I've done–”

  “I have an inkling,” Julia whispers, “and regardless, I know that you were made to. That there was no real choice.”

  “But what about the things I could do?” I open my eyes, just briefly, to stare at Nick's back. Is he asleep now? It's difficult to tell. Please, please be asleep. Don't let him hear this.

  “Ashe, you're not going to hurt anyone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I'm hopeful. I saw you today, calming yourself. I know the sort of person you are. Nick knows the sort of person you are.”

  “I'm not sure I do.”

  The tears start flowing thick and fast down my cheeks, and sobs rise from inside me. Julia sets aside her tub, and levers me into her arms. I am stung by a strange feeling, like a sliver of memory, but at the same time I am almost certain I have never been held this way before. This is the way I hold Ben, almost like... almost like a mother.

  I fall asleep in her arms, with her slowly stroking my hair.

  Chapter 60

  It comes as no surprise, I'm sure, that I hate infirmaries almost as much as I hate needles. I'm usually OK with Julia's clinic, with its old books and potted plants and silly drawings, but the smell of antiseptic and the starch white quality of the sheets fool me into thinking I'm somewhere else.

  I'm back at the Institute infirmary, undergoing some procedure. There's a small child in the next bed, different from me, but in a way that a nine-year-old can't fully comprehend. His face is partly covered in fur and he has a tail. All the other details are lost to me. He is nothing but another sick child.

  The Director comes in and looks at his chart. He sighs and clicks at the nice scientist to join him.

  “The odds aren't in this one's favour, alas,” he says.

  The nice scientist, who had been reading quietly in the corner, gets up. She looks appalled. “He's primed to make a full recovery!”

  “We don't have any room for imperfects right now, and the budget needs redistributing. See it done, Dr Rose.”

  He sweeps out of the room without another look at the child whose death he's just ordered.

  Here is what I remember:

  The boy looked at me, and in that single glance, I knew he understood what had just been said. I knew he didn't want to die.

  He wasn't in the bed in the morning.

  The nice doctor was gone a few days later, and none of them were ever kind to us again.

  ◆◆◆

  When I wake, Mi is standing over me, his arms folded. “Where on earth have you two been and why do you both smell of smoke?” he demands.

  “I can set myself on fire. Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “Oh, of course! What a simple explanation! Why didn’t I think of it?”

  “Mi,” says Nick groggily, “has anyone ever told you, you’re rather funny?”

  “Thanks, it hides the trauma.” He turns back to me. “Are you serious? You can set yourself on fire? Because this seems like something I might have noticed before now.”

  “I'm a late bloomer.”

  Mi is quiet for a moment. “You burned the chimera girl.”

  “Is she OK?”

  “Burns are looking better, or so I'm told. Julia's not sure about her back. There's not much she can do for her here but it could heal itself.”

  I chew my lip.

  “How... how are you controlling the fire?” he asks.

  “I think I just need to stay calm.”

  “But you're so very bad at that.”

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I can feel you glaring at me. Am I about to be set on fire?”

  “Don't tempt me.”

  I am so distracted that I don’t register the presence of someone else enter the room until the curtain is wrenched back. Harris is behind it, staring at me with gleeful intensity.

  “So,” he says, clapping his hands, “Julia tells me you can set yourself on fire?”

  Chapter 61

  “Don’t be mad at Julia for telling me,” Harris says, as he rolls down an unknown corridor. “She knows I can help.”

  “To be fair, we didn’t tell her not to say anything,” Nick adds, as I scowl at him. He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  “Um… where are we going?”

  Harris stops in front of a panel in the wall and runs his wrist under a partially obscured ID reader. Something hums into life, and the panel slides back to reveal a small lift. We all cram inside.

  Nick looks just as confused as I do when, a few seconds later, we appear on another floor.

  “I had no idea another level existed…” he says, as Harris slides out. The corridor is dark and dimly lit. There’s a steady drip coming from the end, a smell of rust and metal.

  “Rudy and I had this place set up when we first formed the Project,” Harris says, rolling down a flimsy ramp. Another door creeps into view, opened by another ID lock. Harris wheels inside. It’s a bright, white chamber, harshly lit and divided into two. The second half stands behind a wall of thick glass. There’s a sink, toilet and bunk installed. A prison cell.

  “We built it to house our enemies, before realising it was too risky to have them on site. I can’t guarantee that it’s completely fireproof, but we’ve got sprinklers if you set yourself alight, so Nick won’t have to dive heroically into the water.”

  Nick scratches the back of his neck.

  I’m struggling to look Harris in the eyes, but I manage a quiet thank you.

  “No problem. Come to us in future, you hear? Don’t go off doing risky things by yourself, it makes Julia worry.”

  Nick looks down at his feet, shame spreading across his cheeks. I suppose I should bear the brunt of that guilt too, as it was my idea. It seems odd though, to have a proper adult worry over me. The thought had never crossed my mind.

  Harris heads to a desk in the corner of the room and starts fiddling with some of the equipment there. He hands me something, a small round device.

  “No needles this time, promise. It will monitor your vitals. Press it onto your chest.”

  Nick is all too happy to help me do this.

  “You're not going to refuse to master your powers because of one little slight singeing incident, are you?” he asks, his hand still pressed against my chest.

  “No, I'm going to train even harder, and show those powers who's boss.”

  “That's my girl. Wait... can I say that?”

  “You may.” I kiss him briefly, and my palm slides to his neck, touching the top of the bandages covering his shoulder. My throat tightens. “I'm only going to say it once more, and then I promise I'll stop with the self-punishing... I'm sorry I burned you.”

  “Oddly enough, you are forgiven. Or should I trade forgiveness for kisses?”

  “You drive
a hard bargain, Lilywhite.” I press my lips against his, hanging there for a little longer than planned.

  Harris coughs.

  I murmur a quick apology and step into the chamber. I make a big show of it, skipping in there without a whisper of fear. “How incredible would it be to shoot fireballs? Or use them as jets and fly about everywhere?"

  “Super-incredible,” says Nick without skipping a beat. “You've been reading my comics again, haven't you?”

  “Would you still like me if I wasn't a super-powered badass?”

  “That depends. Are you still a whip-smart badass with a secret heart of gold?”

  “Uh... I'm still whip-smart?”

  “Then yes.”

  “Er, whenever you’re ready, Ashe…” Harris taps the dashboard impatiently.

  “Right!”

  I don’t want to concentrate on things that make me angry. I don’t want to think about the Institute. I don't want to lose control this time. Instead, I focus my thoughts on battle. I think back to my fight with the girl, the skirmish in the building. It was not anger. It was not even really fear. It was more you will not hurt me.

  It’s a defence mechanism. Of course it would bubble up when I was lost in thoughts, fighting against myself. They’re like a hedgehog’s spines… like an ostrich, burying its head in the sand to escape.

  But I am not prey.

  My fingers start to prickle. Heat stretches from the tips. I look down. Both of my hands are twitching, pinpricks of light spark from my flesh.

  Harris’ voice sounds around me. “Heart rate increasing…”

  Smoke begins to rise. I focus on the heat bubbling under my palm. I breathe in and out, slowly, carefully.

  A flame darts into life. It looks oddly beautiful, dancing in my palm. I clench my other one tightly shut and focus purely on this light burst, unfurling like a flower in bloom.

  I hold it up for the others to see. I’m a child, showing off my latest creation. The flame grows brighter.

  “Can you feel anything?” Nick’s voice asks.

  “Yes, but… it doesn’t hurt.”

  The flame spreads until it covers my whole hand. My flesh begins to tighten.