by S W Clarke
Somehow, I knew. The oracle’s power, I thought. She had shown me the past, but she had also told me about branching futures, and how mine would be a slender branch.
That recurring dream was of my future. It was of this moment. I just hadn’t known it until now.
When I fell into Cupid’s cloud, it was better than a feather duvet. It was like falling into silk. And for a moment, I wasn’t terrified. I was just grateful.
I rose to my hands and knees, my fingers clutching the cloud’s mass like cotton candy. I wanted to throw my hands out in the air and scream that Titanic line that my roommate was always quoting at me.
Then the train’s horn went off, and I clapped my hands to my ringing ears. I was back in reality, riding a cloud meant for a toddler-sized demigod. The world was passing by at sixty miles an hour, and I had no idea how in Empty Hell to steer this thing.
“Think of it like a swagway!” my Cupid bellowed from the train.
“What’s a swagway?” I yelled back.
“It’s a tiny motorized vehicle you stand on and steer with your weight,” Cupid said. Trying to picture that only confused me more.
Justin cupped both hands around his mouth. “Lean in the direction you want to go. Forward to go faster, back to slow down.” That made more sense.
The train’s horn blew again—two blasts. That meant we were coming to civilization. Civilization was bad—it meant people, and lately, people meant trouble. Especially when some of those people had a vendetta against you and knew which train you were on.
The conductor appeared behind Justin and Hercules. Time to make way.
I gripped the puff and leaned my right shoulder down. As I did, it veered me away from the train—and slowed down. Way, way down.
“Hey!” I yelled as the train started passing me by. “Not slower, faster.”
The puff remained predictably silent. I didn’t know what I’d expected by yelling at it.
Duh, Isa. Lean in.
I leaned forward, but I went too far. The cloud dipped so hard at the front that I nearly tumbled out before I could right myself. All right, so clouds were sensitive like that. I was getting the hang of it.
I leaned forward a little, and as the train’s caboose passed me by, I picked up speed. By degrees I leaned a little more, and a little more, until the train and I were moving at the same speed.
But the train wasn’t moving as fast as before. It was gradually slowing, and a couple miles up ahead I saw the platform. Except the platform wasn’t all I saw. There were vehicles directly in the middle of the tracks … and they looked mighty familiar.
“Merda,” I whispered. “Get off the GoneGodDamn train.”
The World Army was waiting on the train tracks. And when I say the World Army, I mean they had a whole legion of SUVs and two helicopters circling the skies overhead.
His watch was still in my jacket pocket, but Daiski had found a way to contact them.
If the World Army was there, Daiski was there. His promises of what he would do to us rang through my mind, and I rushed the cloud up to the car where Justin was now leaping off the train.
My heart clenched when I saw him in midair, but he landed just as I had—on his stomach. Except he was a quicker learn; within a second, he was on his hands and knees and maneuvering his cloud like he’d done it his whole life.
The World Army’s experimentation had truly made him super-human. I was almost jealous. Almost.
Hercules went last. Instead of jumping, he stepped from the train like he was passing down a flight of stairs. When his foot touched the cloud, it sank a little under his weight, but he didn’t fall through it as the Cupids had expected.
Instead, he mounted the thing like a king. Where Justin and I rode on our hands and knees, he stood upright, chest out, hands at his hips. He spun his puff right around and floated over to me, blocking the sun.
Empty Hell, Hercules was riding his puff backward.
“You’re a fine flyer,” he called over the wind. His fists never left the seat of his hips.
I squinted up at him. “Showoff.”
I could swear I saw him wink. “You know you like it.” Then he spun around, and I spotted the three Cupids flitting out of the train and toward us. My Cupid was waving his hands in the air, pointing at the helicopters and then toward the desert.
His body language couldn’t have been clearer.
Go the frig that way.
He wanted us to head to the far tree line, some four miles away.
The three of us got the message. We spun our clouds around and started away from the train, and as I began to lean forward, my Cupid grabbed the edge of the cloud behind me. “I can’t believe I’m letting you drive,” he muttered.
On my left, Agape fluttered over and gripped the edge of Justin’s cloud in that water-skier configuration they had mentioned on the train. Philia came forward and clutched Hercules’s cloud. He didn’t look happy about it, either.
“Go on,” my Cupid said. “Let’s move.”
I gripped the cloud harder. “By all means.” I slowly leaned forward and we began at a slow pace. Meanwhile, Hercules and Justin both shot off across the desert.
My Cupid shook his head. “Come on, Isa. Lean into it. And you need to be more aerodynamic or else you’ll fly off.”
“How fast can we possibly go?” But I got on my stomach anyway.
My Cupid let out a brief cackle before he slapped the edge of the cloud like a horse’s rump. “Oh, Isa. You don’t know the power of the puff.” And with a “HYAH!” we went from zero to so-fast-my-cheeks-were-pulling-back. I screamed as the desert turned to a blur beneath us and we blitzed toward the trees.
↔
Cupid had been right: if I’d been any higher up I would have blown right off his puff. As it was, a stray mosquito would probably have put a hole in my forehead.
All of which was to say, we were moving. The trees came at us with unfathomable speed, and just as it seemed like we were about to sweep in amongst them, Cupid leaned us back and I spotted the other two clouds arrowing upward above the trees.
I screamed again. This time because I found myself dangling from the puff, and even in this illusion, my upper-arm strength wouldn’t keep me on that cloud for long.
We leveled out just over the canopy, and Cupid hooted. “I haven’t had this much fun in three hundred years.”
I ventured a glare. “This is fun?”
The sound of helicopters drowned Cupid’s reply, and we both turned our faces skyward. Above us, the noses of both helicopters pointed downward as they arrowed toward us. “Well, scary-fun. Now it’s more scary than fun.”
“Fuck,” I said. Of course, they wouldn’t be very good at protecting humanity if they hadn’t noticed the fugitive Others escaping the train they knew we were on. And they definitely wouldn’t be the World Army if they hadn’t immediately given chase.
Then they got all shooty on us.
The bullets rattled off in rapid-fire, and I ducked my head under my hands. Below us—I could vaguely see through the bottom of the cloud like it was a glass-bottomed boat, which was a bit nauseating—the trees shuddered and swayed.
When the shooting paused, I lifted my head. “They’ve got machine guns on us?”
“We can outrun them,” Cupid said. “Just take us somewhere they can’t go.”
Where they can’t? Where couldn’t the World Army go that we could? I thought they had limitless purview—especially in the United States. This was a country that took almost aching pride in their military.
I glared over my shoulder. “You don’t know where we’re going?”
He pointed at me. “I thought you knew.”
Oh boy. I yanked my phone out of my jacket. By some miracle, we had signal out here. I pulled up Google Maps and started checking out the area with one hand and driving with the other in what was probably a highly illegal act.
“No way,” I whispered as I zoomed the map out.
“Wha
t is it?” Cupid said from behind me.
“We’re about three miles away from protected airspace,” I said. It was the perfect escape: chasing us out there would mean they’d be violating a couple dozen different laws. Plus, this place would have way too many tourists with binoculars for the World Army to avoid making a huge scene.
“Where is that?” Cupid said.
“Just keep them off us.” I whistled to Justin and Hercules. When I caught their eye, I gestured to two o’clock. They caught on, because all three of our clouds veered in that direction together.
“Aye aye, Cap,” Cupid said. And with that, he sat on the edge of the cloud and drew his bow from around his body. To our left, the two other clouds were level with us. By some miracle, Hercules still rode like he was surfing. I didn’t even want to know how he’d defied the laws of physics.
Cupid gestured to the other two Cupids on their clouds, and they also pulled off their bows. Cupid’s bowstring started twanging for all it was worth.
We were picking up speed. And the helicopters … they were, too. But things still weren’t as bad as all that. I mean, we were probably traveling a hundred miles an hour in wisps of congealed cloud through the desert, but they weren’t catching up.
I gripped the cotton-candy cloud so hard my fingers hurt. I managed to keep us from jerking or stalling or pitching forward, but my entire body shook with adrenaline. We were starting up a gradual incline, and I leaned us back to meet the angle.
“Keep her steady,” Cupid snapped.
“Sorry,” I shot back, “I’ve never driven a cloud before.”
“Apology not accepted.” He paused as he nocked his arrow. “If I miss, I blame you, woman.”
Was Cupid playing to stereotypes? I’d show him. I ground my teeth together as we climbed. Behind me, his bow twanged again as the arrow rocketed off toward one of the helicopters.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What is it? Did you miss?”
“They’ve got reinforced windshields.”
“You were aiming for the windshield? That arrow can’t possibly—”
“Our arrows aren’t any old arrows, Isa.” He yanked another out.
I pressed the cloud as hard as I dared, and we shot upward along the incline. Not much farther. Just hang on a little while longer. As we came level over the trees, my mouth dropped wide. There, like a gaping wound in the earth, was our destination.
The Grand Canyon.
“Nossa Senhora,” I cried.
“Oh boy! I’ve always wanted to go here,” Cupid said as he let off another arrow. “Hope you’re not scared of heights.”
I didn’t answer; I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I knew as soon as I saw it that this was our best option for escape. I just needed to not look down.
Of course, that was impossible. As all three clouds sailed out over the precipice and the world dropped away. Cupid piled into the cloud beside me, and together we leaned forward. And forward. And forward.
We plunged straight down the side of the cliff, a vertical drop to the river below.
At some point I realized I was screaming again. The ground came at us so fast I thought we would splat right into it and then the World Army’s job would be done for them.
“Pull up!” Cupid shouted.
And we did. We barely leveled as the river rose up to meet us, and we grazed its surface, drawing spray all over us.
Cupid was laughing. Above us, the helicopters shot out over the edge, but were already starting to circle back.
I was crying. “That was the stupidest GoneGodDamn thing I’ve ever …”
“Me too,” Cupid said. “But we lived.”
He was right: stupid wasn’t so bad—if you lived.
The other two clouds swept in next to us.
“Good call,” Philia yelled.
Standing above him, Hercules slapped his leg. “Oh Cupids, for a moment it felt like the gods were back. I saw divinity.”
On my right, Justin yelled over, “Are you OK?”
“Just need a change of underwear,” I said. “You?”
He barked a laugh. “Same.”
“That was nothing,” my Cupid said. We were still flying just above the river, but we had slowed. Above us, I could have sworn I saw a tour group riding donkeys down the narrow edge of the canyon. They were all gawking. “You should have seen our race with Apollo.”
“But how did you know they would turn back?” Agape said.
I shrugged. “It’s a national park. Everyone knows it’s protected airspace.”
“So we’re free and clear,” Justin said. “Thank the GoneGods for environmentalism.”
At that moment, all three Cupids said, “Uh-oh.”
“No—no uh-ohs,” I said. “Environmentalism is a great thing.”
“It’s not that,” my Cupid said. He pointed down at the cloud we were riding on. “It’s this.”
And with a pop, all three puffs disappeared.
Chapter 15
Fortunately we were only about three feet above the water.
Unfortunately, it had rained quite a bit in Arizona over the past few days. And when I say quite a bit, I mean the river was swollen so large it almost obliterated the banks.
That was what we fell into. The rushing center of the GoneGodDamn Grand Canyon.
The three Cupids let shrill yips as all of six of us dropped straight into the current. Justin and Hercules made enormous splashes as their large frames crashed in.
And me? Strange to say, it was like slipping into my favorite old dress. The water felt as familiar and as calming as it always had. I wasn’t scared; this was my element, after all. My natural form was essentially a pink-tailed dolphin, which I’d spent most of my life being ashamed of, reviled for. Only recently—thanks to Justin—had I begun to reconsider that position.
And right now, my natural form was perfectly suited to the dilemma. Well, almost.
When I hit the water, I was submerged for one disorienting moment before my head surfaced. Around me, the Cupids flailed. I spotted Justin and Hercules floating downriver with less panic, but they were still being taken by the current.
“We can’t swim!” Agape cried.
“Fly, then,” I called out.
“Our feathers are wet,” my Cupid yelled. “Curse these dove-like beautiful and underpowered wings,” he said between gurgles.
“Hold on,” I said. “I’m coming.”
Philia’s small head disappeared, resurfaced. “So are the rapids!”
I followed his gaze to where the river churned white up ahead. Well, that definitely shortened my timeline.
But I didn’t need much time. Not in the water.
I closed my eyes, allowed myself to be, well … me. After how helpless I’d felt on the train and in the sky, it was the simplest thing in the world to be in a river. I’d grown up beside a river, bathed and played and sometimes lived in it for days.
But like I said: my natural form was almost suited to the dilemma. Right now, I needed hands. After all, I couldn’t grab the Cupids with pectoral fins.
I sank beneath the surface as my lower body shifted, my legs fusing together, my feet becoming the end of my tail. I allowed my backpack to slide off my arms, buoyed up to the water’s surface. My eyes gained a skein to protect them from underwater detritus, and when I opened them, I could see with crystal clarity. Better than I could on land.
And I could move. With a single flip of my tail I powered through the river toward the Cupids, sweeping one into my arms and rushing him toward the shore. I didn’t even know which ones I had grabbed, only that I spotted their flailing, chubby legs and made right for them.
When I had rescued two, I spun around beneath the water, searching for the third. Farther down I spied Hercules, who had managed to swim himself over to a massive tree branch and was now treading water.
Of course—Hercules’s strength probably made him the best swimmer in the ancient world. And his size gave him a t
errific wingspan. A moment later he reached out and grabbed Justin’s arm as he swept by.
Beneath the water, I sighed through my gills; they were safe.
But one of the Cupids was still missing.
I powered toward the rapids faster than the current itself. After a few desperate seconds, I saw him tumbling beneath the surface, caught in a spin some twenty feet away from the rapids. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was open. I knew exactly who it was.
It was my Cupid. Cupid of Eros. And he was drowning.
I threw myself forward and into a downward arc almost to the river’s bed. Just before I hit it, I angled upward, scooping up my Cupid and rushing him straight up and out of the water. For a moment, we were both airborne, and I angled my body to land beneath his when we hit the surface.
With my scales, I could take the blow. He couldn’t.
We hit, and a second later the rapids took us. I tried to push off the rocks and maneuver us around them, but the current was too powerful. I grabbed Cupid in my arms as we were pummeled back and forth, sent around and down. At this pace, if I hit a rock at the wrong angle, I’d get a concussion. My only thought was:
Don’t lose consciousness. Don’t black out.
We just needed to get through this, and then we would be out the other side. We would be safe.
On the shore, I caught a flash of Justin and Hercules running alongside us. They were both sprinting, waiting for the moment we’d float close enough to grab. But the current was efficiently carrying us right down the center of a long aisle girded by rocks, and I knew this battle was mine and mine alone.
I was responsible for my Cupid and me.
Ahead, the water dipped in front of a massive boulder. This was the worst trap of any set of rapids you’d encounter: the underwater flumes. Many a young encantado had nearly died—we were immortal, but not impervious to mortal wounds—after being sucked and trapped under a rock. The current would constantly press forward, our bodies wouldn’t fit beneath, and we didn’t have the strength to fight our way to the surface.
I had always managed to avoid them. But given our trajectory and the current, I knew this time I wouldn’t. We were going into the flume.