by Perrin Briar
“How can you say that?” Robin said. “It can’t be too late. It can’t be. There must be something we can do. Surely?”
“We had one course of action open to us,” Sturgess said. “To take action and do something about our world, to help rebuild it, or do nothing. The world got ripped to pieces by our betters, and we let them do it. For that, we are equally guilty.”
“But there must be something we can do now!” Robin said. “Some way to stop it?”
But there wasn’t. Sturgess found he didn’t even have the energy to lie. It was over.
A herd of asteroids and flaming rocks fell toward the Merchant city and struck with the force of megatons. The world was being swept up with magma and fire, swirling in a miasma of molten lead. They were doomed, and what made it worse was it was caused by their own doing.
But there is a silver lining to be found in every situation for those with persistence. Often it only took a slight bend of the human mind to locate it. Sturgess found it now, with his brain leaking out of his ears and eyes.
At least this moment wouldn’t last long.
It would soon be over and he would be at peace.
35.
A RIPPLE tore across the land like a pack of cards in a giant’s hands. Bryan and Zoe’s legs shuddered, shaking, almost knocking them off their feet.
“What was that?” Bryan said.
“An earthquake if I’m not mistaken,” Zoe said.
“That can’t be good,” Bryan said.
He had placed his hand on the wall of the world to brace himself against the earthquake’s shudder and found it difficult to remove it. Something was hugging his hand, pulling it toward the wall. Gravity, he realized. His hand felt sticky, like he had glue attached to his palm. He looked at his hand and pressed it back against the wall.
“We need to figure out a way to get up to the kids,” Zoe said. “Any ideas?”
“I’ve got one,” Bryan said. “Check me out.”
Zoe could tell from the change in location of Bryan’s voice that something had transpired. She turned to find Bryan ten feet above where he ought to have been. He was standing with his feet on the wall, at a ninety degree angle.
“How in God’s name did you get up there?” Zoe said.
“I just put my feet on the wall and it held my weight,” Bryan said.
“Isn’t the blood rushing to your head?” Zoe said.
“No,” Bryan said. “It’s like I’m standing on the ground. I suppose I am standing on the ground. It’s all about perspective. I guess there must be something powerful on the other side of the wall, a chunk of Gravitas maybe.”
“Great,” Zoe said. “But how is this going to help us get the kids back?”
Looking up, Bryan could see Zoe’s point. There was no way they were going to reach the kids by traversing the wall. They would be little closer to the nest going up the wall as they were from where they currently were.
“It’s all about mass,” Bryan said. “The things that attract the most amount of gravity are the larger things. Nothing much here is larger than the mountain, which means it ought to have a large amount of gravity. So, if we can enter its field it ought to drag and pull us toward it—like the planet Earth does with the moon.”
“I’m with you so far,” Zoe said. “But what happens if we get too close to the mountain? It’ll pull us toward it and we’ll smash on the ground like we’d fallen from a great height.”
Bryan stepped down from the wall.
“There is another possibility,” he said.
“What?” Zoe said.
Bryan hopped on the spot.
“Don’t you notice it?” he said. “The lack of gravity here? It’s weaker here because the mountain is interfering with it. It’s blocking it, taking most of the gravity for itself. I noticed it once we started getting closer to the mountain. I feel lighter, bouncier. You must sense it too.”
Zoe hadn’t, too concerned with locating the kids. But now Bryan mentioned it, she supposed she did feel a little lighter than usual. She’d supposed it was caused by the fact they were getting closer to the kids. She hopped on the spot.
“So what?” she said. “What difference does that make?”
“It means, if we can throw something up high enough, it might get caught by the mountain’s gravity,” Bryan said. “And once it gets caught it’ll hit the mountain’s peak.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Zoe said.
She ran to the edge of the forest and grabbed a vine that hung limply from a tree. She pulled it free, pulling it until it had snapped free of the forest. It was too long for just one of them to hold. They coiled it up and approached a small hillock. It was the closest they could get to the mountaintop from where they were.
Bryan pulled his sleeves up and took hold of the vine. He swung his arms around, gaining in momentum until he let go. The vine rose, slowing when it reached its apex. It fell back to Earth.
Bryan wound the vine up again and this time drew his arm back like a baseball pitcher. He threw his arm up. The vine rose, unfurling, higher than before. It reached its apex once again. Experience taught that the vine ought to fall back down immediately, but that didn’t happen. The vine stayed up, like a snake that had been charmed. Bryan pushed the vine, but it didn’t rise any farther, and instead fell from the sky.
“It almost worked!” Zoe said. “Try again!”
Bryan coiled the vine up like he was preparing a lasso. He wound his arm up and threw it, all in one smooth movement. The vine rose higher and higher into the air. Once again it reached its apex, slowing as it did so. The vine stayed up, locked into position like it was made of stone.
“I don’t believe it,” Zoe said.
“Believe it,” Bryan said. “Now all we have to do is get it closer to the mountain top. The kids will be able to climb up and join us here.”
“This is like a computer game or something,” Zoe said. “I’m sure I’ve seen something like this in Mario.”
Bryan shrugged.
“It’s our reality now,” he said. “We need to figure out a way to get the vine to drop down on the other side.”
“It needs to be heavier,” Zoe said. “Gravity will do the rest. Tie something to the end. Something heavy.”
“But not too heavy,” Bryan said. “We need to be able to throw it up high.”
Zoe found a stone and tied the vine around it.
“Wait,” Bryan said, looking up at the mountain peak. “Something’s happening. I think the kids’ situation is getting worse.”
36.
WAYWARD tentatively approached his parents and fellow brethren, who were removing the last of their shell casing. They made soft hooting noises to one another, speaking, investigating.
“He’s figuring out he doesn’t belong with us,” Cassie said. “His brothers and sisters look more like him than we do.”
“That’s nice,” Aaron said with a smile.
“You’re so naive,” Cassie said, shaking her head.
“Why are you so cynical all the time?” Aaron said.
“Don’t you see what’s going to happen?” Cassie said.
Aaron looked back at the heartwarming scene taking place before them. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it. So what if Wayward was reunited with his family? He would be happier, and though Aaron would miss him, he knew it was for the best.
Then the blood fell from his face.
“Oh,” he said.
“Finally the penny drops,” Cassie said.
“He wouldn’t turn on us,” Aaron said.
“Don’t you think?” Cassie said.
He would turn against them, Aaron thought. It was in his nature. It was what he was.
The Humungo parents lowered their heads and made gentle purring sounds. Wayward approached them and rubbed his beak against their feathers. They opened their mouths and regurgitated a meal for him. The parent birds looked up, got to their full height, and lowered their faces menacingly.
Aaron and Cassie backed away, waving their hands.
“Take it easy,” Cassie said. “We were just trying to stay alive. You would have done the same thing.”
“What are you talking to them for?” Aaron said. “They can’t understand you.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Cassie said.
Aaron didn’t know. He couldn’t think of a thing. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. The parents and their chicks were closing on them. Only half the nest remained open to them.
“I guess this is the end,” Cassie said.
“It was nice knowing you,” Aaron said.
“I wish I could say the same,” Cassie said.
Their calves met the back wall of the nest. They were cornered.
Cassie felt chill, cold to the bone. Above all, she felt sadness. Sadness she hadn’t been able to do the things she now knew she wanted to do. Sadness at having her life cut so short. Sadness at not being able to thank her father for everything he’d done for her. Sadness at not getting to see her mother one last time. She reached out and hugged Aaron. He hugged her back. He made no smartass comment. They were both terrified.
Wark!
Wayward rushed forward from his family, toward Aaron and Cassie. For a moment, Cassie thought he was intent on delivering the first blow in his revenge against them. But then she saw the soft soppy look in his eye, the one he always presented around feeding time.
“Wayward!” Aaron said.
He reached up and wrapped his arms around the soft feathers of the giant chick’s breast. After the extra day of living and eating, he was bigger than his brothers and sisters, but what they lacked in size they made up with numbers.
“He’s protecting us,” Aaron said with a broken smile.
Cassie shook her head.
“He might have the best intentions,” she said. “But there are too many of them. They’ll tear him to pieces.”
37.
“BRYAN!” ZOE said. “We have to help them!”
“How?” Bryan said. “We can’t get to them!”
Zoe surveyed their situation. They stood on a dimple in the sky, a short distance from the top of the mountain on the other side of the world. The kids were getting backed into a corner. She ran the situation over in her mind, shutting her eyes to give herself full concentration. She opened them. She had a plan.
“Take the stone off the vine,” Zoe said.
Bryan wanted to argue, but he recognized that look in her eye and obeyed. He unpicked the knot and let the rock drop. Zoe snatched a dead squirrel that hung from Bryan’s waist. Despite her warnings, he hadn’t been able to compel himself not to consume any roadkill he found along the way. Some people just couldn’t help themselves.
Bryan frowned at the meat, but didn’t give voice to his confusion. He tied a strong knot around the squirrel’s hind legs. Why this should be better than a rock, he had no idea. He swirled the squirrel above his head, faster and faster, until it was a blur, and then released it, tossing it up into the air. It flew, far higher and easier than the lasso had.
Rather than slow down, the squirrel actually began to speed up. Bryan felt a strong tug as the gravity on the other side of the world seized the flying mammal and began to pull it away from him. Bryan let the vine run through his soft hands, slipping away. He kept a close eye on the pile of vine at his feet to ensure he didn’t lose all of it.
“Is it long enough, do you think?” Zoe said.
“Yes,” Bryan said. “That’s not what concerns me.”
“What concerns you?” Zoe said.
“Look at the angle,” Bryan said. “I did my best, but I don’t think it’s going to hit the nest.”
Zoe looked up. Bryan was right. It wasn’t majorly off, but it was going to miss the mountaintop, and therefore the nest, by some meters.
“Give it to me,” Zoe said.
“We can’t throw it again,” Bryan said. “The kids need our help now.”
“I’m not going to throw it again,” Zoe said.
She took the vine and walked, building to a run. She didn’t want to slow the squirrel down, but she needed to change its trajectory to correct its current course. She was effectively running with a meat kite.
The squirrel began to turn. Zoe tightened her grip around the green vine, watching as the squirrel swung toward the nest. She could feel the weight of the squirrel pull. Her plan was for the meat to be a distraction, to get the attention of the parent birds, for the kids to use that distraction and grab the vine. Bryan and Zoe would then tug on them, pulling them to their side of the world. She ached to feel Aaron in her arms again.
Zoe leapt and landed on the wall, stumbling a moment at the shift in gravity. She continued to run, picking up speed. She stopped, checking the squirrel’s trajectory. It was heading the right way! Yes!
And then her smile froze.
Something completely bizarre happened.
Aaron and Cassie committed suicide.
38.
THE PARENT birds hissed at Wayward through their nostrils. Wayward stepped back and lowered his head, making soft mewing noises. He was arguing for their lives, Cassie realized. The parent birds took another step forward. This time Wayward hissed. It was not a friendly hiss, or a hiss of gentle chastisement, but a hiss of genuine and very real anger.
Wark! the parent birds said, aiming their command at their newly hatched children.
The chicks stepped forward and, acting like sheepdogs, attempted to part Wayward from Aaron and Cassie. Given the choice, Cassie and Aaron would much rather try her chances against the chicks than the parents, and so they kept close to Wayward at all times, brandishing sticks when one of the chicks came too close to Wayward’s flanks. The parent birds rallied from the sidelines.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Cassie said. “Eventually they’re going to break through.”
“Then what do we do?” Aaron said.
Cassie’s eyes moved to the side.
“The only thing we can do,” she said. “It’s time to fly the coop.”
“Fly the…?” Aaron said.
His frown melted with slack jawed disbelief as he pieced Cassie’s plan together.
“Wayward can’t fly yet!” he said.
“No,” Cassie said. “But he can float.”
Cassie picked up their harnesses from their previous attempted scale down the mountain.
“Put this on,” she said.
Their backs were against the back nest wall. It would only take a little push to get Wayward over the side. The chicks made an arch around the hapless Wayward.
“Strap yourself to his other leg!” Cassie said.
She looked down over the side of the nest at the swirling mist below. They had no idea how high this mountain was, what lay below them. They were mad. They were crazy. They were desperate.
“I swear, if you’re wrong about this…” Aaron said.
“What?” Cassie said. “You’re going to kill me? That is going to happen to us anyway. Now, push Wayward over the side.”
Cassie and Aaron braced themselves against Wayward’s legs and pushed. Wayward began to teeter on the edge. He stiffened and applied pressure back, keeping himself inside the nest.
“Harder!” Cassie said. “Come on! More!”
They forced themselves forward, against Wayward, who made the most pained Wark sound Cassie had ever heard him utter. But he was too big and heavy. They were never going to get him over the side.
“Wayward,” Aaron said, placing his hand on the bird’s cheek as if it were a person. He looked into its eyes. “You have to trust me. We can do this. We can.”
Wayward looked from Aaron, over the nest’s edge, and back again. Clearly these birds had been born with a high degree of intelligence. Wayward relaxed and flapped his wings, limbering up.
“He’s ready,” Aaron said.
They gently prodded Wayward forward. He took the required step and fell over the side. Cassie heard a shocke
d Honk! from the parent birds as they went over. The wind rushed against her ears and she heard no more, saw no more, through the thick mist.
39.
WATCHING THE scene from Bryan and Zoe’s vantage point made the whole event seem like they were watching it on a movie screen. It didn’t seem real. One minute Aaron and Cassie were in the nest, the next they hopped out of it and disappeared into the mist.
“No!” Zoe said quietly, and then louder: “Aaron! No!”
But she was too late. Their kids were gone.
Zoe was empty, a hollow shell. She fell to her knees and couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. She must have been mistaken. What she saw couldn’t have happened. It mustn’t.
“It’s not over,” Bryan said. “They wouldn’t have done it if they didn’t have a good reason.”
“They were cornered by the Humungos,” Zoe said. “That’s reason enough to jump.”
“No,” Bryan said. “They looked like they were keeping the giant chick pretty close to me.”
“So?” Zoe said.
“So, maybe they’re using the chick to float down the mountain,” Bryan said.
“Float?” Zoe said.
The situation was getting stranger and stranger, but it made sense in a warped kind of way.
“Yes,” Zoe said. “That must be it. They wouldn’t just give up like that.”
Now she thought about it, she realized Aaron and Cassie hadn’t jumped by themselves, but with a giant ball of yellow fluff. It must have been the only chance they saw of escape.
Then she saw one of the Humungo birds leap from the nest, tucking its wings under itself into a dive, head first into the mist.
The parent bird is hunting them…
The chicks tweeted, jumping on the spot, wanting to follow their parent over the side, but the other Humungo blocked them, spreading her wings to discourage them. The chicks backed away. They soon found something else to keep them entertained.
The dead squirrel.