Like the others, Chloe feared punishment. She lingered reluctantly for a moment, before following after the group. As she reached the door to the stairs, Wayne appeared. He had been waiting for her.
“You’ll get caught for sure if you follow them,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Follow me. There’s another way.”
3
WAYNE PULLED CHLOE BY THE ARM and led her up another staircase to the second floor. He carried only one candle to light the enormous space, which was lined with empty bookshelves. It was so dark, that Wayne had to pull her by the hand. They came to a metal door that opened into what appeared to be nothing more than a utility closet, but within, a steel ladder built into the wall gave access to the roof. Wayne allowed Chloe to climb the ladder as he followed behind. Upon reaching the flat tar rooftop, Wayne held a finger to his lips, crawled up to the low wall surrounding the roof, and peeked over. A few seconds later, he waved Chloe over to take a look. Below, they could see the sheriff and five constables. Hidden around the corners of the building that faced the library, three men waited at each end to trap the partygoers as they fled. Basically when a teenager crawled out of the basement, he or she would see that the previous partygoer had been apprehended, and would thus run in the other direction only to be stopped by the sheriff’s men around the other corner. At both sides of the building, they already had at least five teenagers cuffed and linked to a chain. Nobody was going to get away from the illicit party without paying the price. Wayne scooted back from the ledge and motioned for Chloe to follow him.
Chloe dared a whisper, “How are we going to get past them? I thought you said there was another way?”
Wayne pointed to an enormous oak tree, with one lazy branch that hung over the other side of the building.
“They’ll catch us like the others.”
“No way,” Wayne assured her. “Did you see how busy they were. They’ve got their hands full for another thirty minutes at least. If we don’t hurry, we’ll lose our chance.”
She knew he was right. But she couldn’t help thinking the branch seemed a little too droopy to be safe. The thought of falling two stories was chilling, but she couldn’t see any better option. Wayne helped Chloe scramble onto the branch. She did her best to scoot along while hanging upside down with her legs wrapped loosely around the tree limb. It shook terribly under her body’s movements, and if any of the deputies wandered over to this side of the library, Chloe knew she would be spotted. After nearly losing her grip once or twice, she made it to the trunk where she was able to manoeuver her way down though the jumble of limbs that provided sufficient hand and foot holds.
She jumped from the last limb. It was just high enough to shock her ankles but not to sprain them. When she looked up, she saw that Wayne had followed almost immediately behind her. He jumped to the ground at her side.
“Okay,” he whispered, “I’m going to go get supplies. You head toward the old highway and go south. I’ll catch up with you.”
“Supplies?” Chloe was starting to feel queasy. Fearing public exposure wasn’t the only reason Chloe refrained from using her power. It also typically made her become violently ill.
“You all right?” Wayne asked, concerned.
“Uh huh,” Chloe mumbled and nodded. But already, the earth seemed to be moving under her feet.
“So, I’ll be with you soon.” Wayne slunk off into the shadows.
Her mind whirled with nausea and the realization that he hadn’t kissed her. As she stumbled away, Chloe told herself that she couldn’t let Wayne get caught with her. If that happened, he might risk the same fate. She was torn by her desire to have him by her side and to keep him safe from harm. By the time she made it to the old highway, she’d already made up her mind. Instead of traveling down the cracked asphalt road, she crossed to the other side and wandered into the dark forest. She wouldn’t let Wayne destroy his life for her. There was almost no hope of escape once the sheriff found out, and she would risk it alone.
Beyond the forest, lay the great river, and she imagined traveling along it’s length to where it emptied into the ocean. Traveling upriver wasn’t an option as that would only take her into the territory of the Night Flyers. In her haze, she dreamed she could steal a boat even though she had no idea where to sail it. Or even how to sail it. The principal thing was that Wayne was safe. She had to put as much distance as she could between herself and the town before the other teenagers spilled the beans about what had taken place in the library. She felt ashamed that she had brought dishonor upon her family. But these thoughts and regrets were clouded by her growing nausea.
Breathless, Chloe staggered through the underbrush with only the pale globe of the moon to guide her through the dark, monolithic pines. She heard the baying of a hound behind her and knew she had little chance of escape. She’d been on the run for only an hour. Without a doubt, the detained teenagers had informed the sheriff about her power. The sheriff’s deputies were adept at tracking down fugitives, so what chance could she possibly have? Nonetheless, she had to push on even though her lungs were already burning, and her thigh muscles quaking.
Her head throbbed, and only her flight instinct kept her going. She knew that without this splitting headache to numb her physical exhaustion, she would probably succumb to the temptation to rest. She felt queasy from the sickness that always accompanied her use of the talent. This side effect kept her from experimenting, even though she had always been curious as to the possible limits of her nascent power.
The hound bayed again And this time, it seemed very close. She knew a dog could easily outrun a human. Fortunately, she came to a stream and figured that if she ran through the water, she might be able to hide her scent. As she stepped into the current, the frigid water swept around her calves. She trudged through the muddy bottom and couldn’t help noticing the number of fallen logs all around. It appeared to be the work of beavers. Finally, she noticed a low hanging branch of an enormous tree. The branch was stout enough to hold her weight, but low enough for Chloe to pull herself up from the stream. She scrambled across the branch, amazed that she had any strength left. She wedged herself as tightly as possible against the enormous trunk. Her head was spinning, and she worried that she would fall from the tree.
Again, she heard baying, now less than a hundred yards downstream. Almost immediately thereafter, she heard the splashing of an animal forging its way up the stream. Finally, a hound appeared, frantically leaping out of the water from one bank, and back into the water to sniff the other side. Using this strategy, it searched up the stream. Perhaps it had learned this technique for people such as herself that might use the water to hide their trail. As it passed under her, its nose was to the ground. She held her breath, afraid that the hound’s hearing might be as good as its smell. The dog was moving at an amazing pace, considering its concentration. When it passed by, she gave a sigh of relief. Then she heard an enormous snap, and the hound gave out a horrible whimper that sent a shiver through her bones. She wondered, What could have gotten the hound?
Slowly, in order not to give herself away, she leaned out from the branch and held onto another, so that she could peer around the enormous trunk. Only a dozen yards away, the hound lay with its neck squeezed inside an enormous beaver trap. It could only make horrific whimpering sounds that signaled it was close to its dying breath.
This was her chance to escape. If she didn’t leave now, the hound’s masters would be upon her. She shimmied down the tree and prepared to slip off into the darkness. But the sight of the poor hound haunted her. She couldn’t leave it to die. It might have only a few breaths left before its lungs gave out.
The whimpering subsided, and the hound’s back legs thrashed in the mud. Despite her urge to flee, she knew she could never live with herself if she didn’t free the animal. She trudged through the mud over to the poor beast and knelt beside it. The dog had a pleading look in its eyes, and she set about trying to understand the mechanism of the trap. Within a min
ute, she realized she had to pin the bottom half of the trap to the ground with her foot while she pried it open by lifting the upper half. As she did so, she pushed the hound free. The animal had either passed out or already died. She carefully inserted a thick branch next to her foot, so that once she lowered the top half of the trap, she could pull her toes free. She knelt beside the poor animal and put her head to its chest. She couldn’t hear its heartbeat, but then again, she knew too little about dog anatomy. She threw her weight against its chest, pushing down with both hands. And surprisingly, the dog suddenly took a huge breath. Its eyes fluttered and then looked up at her, big and wide. The animal licked her hand as if to show its gratitude. She was so intent on saving the hound that she’d missed the sound of footsteps coming up behind her.
“What’d you do to my dog?” A man said menacingly. ”If you hurt her, you’ll be sorry.”
“Looks like it was the beaver trap and not the witch that got your hound,” the sheriff said as his horse trotted into view.
“He ain’t never trod in no beaver trap before. Gotta be the witch’s doing,” the deputy said.
“Take a look at her,” the sheriff said, “she hardly looks capable of standing, let alone manipulating your hound. Put her on the back of your horse and let’s get back to the station.”
Her mind awhirl, Chloe barely registered their conversation. Adrenaline had kept the sickness at bay, and now that she was captured, her muscles went slack. Her head was throbbing, and her stomach heaved. The deputy dismounted and took her wrists for the handcuffs. She felt the sickness pool up inside her and erupt.
“Damn witch vomited all over me!” The deputy leaped back and spat upon the ground. He pranced around, fanning his shirt, trying to dislodge the sticky vomit.
“Stop your antics,” the sheriff admonished. “It’s no worse than the occasional drunk.”
“You’ll get yours,” the deputy said to Chloe. “We burn witches.”
4
SHIVERING IN DARKNESS, CHLOE’S EYES fluttered open. She realized she’d been stripped down to her bra and panties and was now laying upon a cot, exposed to the chill air. Her instincts sent a wave of panic through her brain. Where am I?
As she struggled into a seated position, her muscles revolted in agony. The room temperature had made them as inflexible as a half-frozen piece of meat, and her flight of the previous night had drained them of all their energy. They caught me. Her throbbing brain reeled upon remembrance of the night before. The nausea caused from the exertion of her forbidden power had subsided, leaving her with a growing fear.
Her eyes adjusted, and she could make out a window with bars. She got up, stumbled toward them, and put her slender hands against the frigid metal. A prison cell…the fate of a witch… She wanted to deny her sudden realization. I’m the witch! Even though Chloe had kept her power hidden her entire life, she’d never identified herself as being a sorceress. She wasn’t even sure what being a witch entailed, except for the universal loathing the people of her town professed for witches, and that this moral transgression required that the sinner be burned at the stake. In the distance, a soft blue light glowed upon the horizon. Only an hour or so, and it would be dawn. Walking back to her cot, she trod over a blanket that must have slid off her body during her troubled sleep. Prone on the cot, she pulled the rough, woolen cover all the way up to her eyes. Her teeth chattered as her thoughts drifted to Wayne. What would he think of her now? If only she hadn’t interfered with the bottle, then she would’ve had a chance to see him again. No! If I hadn’t used my power, Lillian would’ve gotten him.
But the truth dawned upon her. Now Lillian would have her Wayne anyway. Chloe rued the fact that her foolishness had destroyed any possible chance of a life with him. One kiss. Would that have been enough for Lillian to finally seduce Wayne? His parents preferred Lillian’s social standing. Everyone in town considered Lillian to be his perfect match even though Wayne had been Chloe’s best friend since childhood. But it would’ve been more than one kiss. Sometimes when the couples went to the closet, they didn’t come out for another ten minutes. She shuddered with revulsion at the thought of Lillian kissing him. Yes, it was worth it. Wayne was the only person who made life in this miserable town worthwhile—the only person who knew how to make her laugh.
She lay in her cot ruminating until she fell back asleep. Her dream of running from a pack of wolves was brutally interrupted by the deafening clang of a steel door swinging open. The sun was beaming through the window and the room had grown comfortably warm. Chloe guessed that it was already mid-afternoon.
“You’ve got a visitor,” the deputy snarled. It was the same deputy she’d vomited on the night before. As he stepped aside, a balding man decked out in the priestly red robe of the New Faith, with its characteristic stiff black collar, marched into her cell. He had a silk sash draped around his neck, embroidered with flames and flying dragons. Her father.
He had a dour look upon his face. Seeing Chloe huddled and embarrassed under the blanket, he turned angrily to the deputy.
“Where’s your decency? Bring her something to wear!”
Chloe could see that the deputy had an urge to talk back, but he knew better than to contradict a man of the cloth.
“Yes, Sky Father,” he said while closing the priest in the cell.
Chloe watched her father walk over to the window to stand silently, gazing into the distance.
After a few minutes, she couldn’t bear his silence any more. Does he want me to apologize? To repent? She felt embarrassed to have let him down.
Chloe stammered, “Father, I sorry —“
“I could’ve saved you from almost anything,” he said shaking his head with sadness. “Anything, except this. Why did you do it?”
“Love,” Chloe answered.
Her father scowled. “Your problem is that you have too much passion. Love will destroy you.”
His stern answer brought back a wave of anguish from her childhood where she yearned for love. Her father had been too absorbed with his priestly duties, and her stepmother was as cold and hard as a tombstone toward her. Chloe would gladly accept love’s destruction in place of a life full of cold indifference.
“I suppose she was happy to hear the news,” Chloe responded.
Chloe’s answer visibly shocked her father. “Is that what you think of your stepmother?”
“I’m not one of her children, and she has always hated me.”
“No,” her father said, “She always feared this day would come. If she didn’t want to be close to you, it was to avoid the pain. And of course, she was afraid for the rest of the family.”
“She knew?” Chloe asked stunned by the revelation, and its logical implication. “You knew about me?”
“Once, when you were very little, you misbehaved so your stepmother put your favorite doll on top of a wardrobe as punishment. She walked past the door right when you exerted your mind to pull your doll down. She witnessed it floating across the room straight into your hands. In the remaining years, we never saw you use your power again. Immediately after the incident, you became violently ill and fell into a short coma. When you awoke, you seemed to remember nothing of your actions. We’d hoped you had lost your ability.”
I had the power when I was younger? This came as a surprise to Chloe since she couldn’t remember the incident. Her first memory of the nascent power appeared with puberty.
Her father continued, “If your stepmother hated you, she would’ve denounced you. By law, we’re all bound to do so. She told me that she would never denounce you, even though she feared for your stepsisters.”
Chloe felt a pang of guilt. In a way, it would’ve been easier to learn that her stepmother was gloating about her demise. Now she had to re-evaluate her childhood, and it made her feel strangely guilty to have exposed her family to so much danger.”
“Your trial is already over,” her father announced, “And the Commission has sentenced you to the customary penal
ty.”
“I didn’t even get to defend myself!”
“No one trusts the testimony of a witch,” her father said. “Too many people observed your ability. The testimony was overwhelmingly against you as there were too many witnesses. Even your closest friends had to admit what they’d seen.”
To spare themselves the rod. Would I have done the same? Did Wayne betray me? She had to push back her fear to ask.
“Wayne, did he testify too?”
“The sheriff’s son? No, he will face a later disciplinary hearing for being at that illicit party. It may impact his standing as an assistant deputy.”
Even if he’d been there, he wouldn’t have testified against me, Chloe reassured herself.
“Maybe there’s another way out?” Chloe suggested. “I could be sent as an offering to the Cloud Lords during the next Ascension.”
“The council will never go for that. The older members regret the past, and they resent change. They need a scapegoat to soothe their inner rage. Anyone with your accursed abilities represents everything they hate about our new world, no matter how much they pretend to uphold it.”
“Do you still love me, Daddy?” Chloe asked.
“I do not dare to,” he whispered to himself, choking in a way that made her realize, he was broken inside. Obviously, he loved her. Suddenly his predicament became clear to her. If he showed any desire to help a witch, even his own daughter, the community would turn against him. He would be made to watch them burn her on the stake, and if he cried, he would face destruction as well. As a preacher, he would be under extreme scrutiny to uphold the New Faith. But Chloe knew it wasn’t self-preservation that kept him from coming to her defense. It was his stepmother and her two younger stepsisters. Their lives were just as much in jeopardy, and he didn’t want to see them suffer the same fate.
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