by Aaron Hodges
Leaping over a fallen log, Chris ran on, silently cursing their slow pace. They needed to get airborne, to take to the skies and leave the soldiers and the Chead far behind. Glancing up, he searched the canopy for a hole, for any gap in the branches that might allow them to escape. But the trees stretched out overhead, unbroken.
They ran for over an hour before they finally reached a clearing. By then the sounds of gunfire and the screams of the dying had fallen away, and the first rays of the morning sun were streaming through the canopy. It appeared out of nowhere – one moment they were racing through the trees, the forest floor still cast in shadows; the next there was sunlight all around, and they were stumbling to a stop, staring in amazement.
Long grass stretched out for a hundred feet from where they stood, sloping gently down towards the west. The others quickly drew up around him, shoulders heaving as they caught their breath, their wings already stretching out towards the light. They still stood near the edge of the treeline, but looking out across the grass, Chris realised they were not alone in the clearing.
A herd of goats stood amongst the long grass, their white coats glistening in the sun. Their heads were raised, their beady eyes turning to stare at the intruders. Sleek black horns twisted from their heads and blades of grass hung from their mouths as they chewed absently. A kid danced amongst the adults, ignorant to the threat the humans posed, though some of the adults were already turning away.
Yet as the herd started to move towards the opposite side of the clearing, an angry roar filled the air. And suddenly the goats were no longer running away, but towards them. Eyes wild and voices raised in high-pitched screams, they bolted towards Chris and the others, fleeing the unseen noise. A swirling wind raced after them, bending the grass beneath it, tearing leaves and branches from the trees around the clearing.
“Get down!” Chris heard someone shout as a dark shadow fell across the clearing.
Without pausing to think, Chris obeyed, hurling himself down into the long grass. He caught a glimpse of the others following, then a goat leapt past, obscuring his vision. Looking up, he saw the dark shadow of a helicopter pass by, blades whirling, sun glinting from its metallic body.
An instant later it was gone, disappearing in the direction of their camp. The angry buzz of its blades faded away, but now the reek of gasoline lingered over the clearing, staining the air.
Chris waited a moment in the long grass, listening in case it turned back, before pulling himself to his feet. Standing in the open, he felt his heart pounding hard in his chest. He clenched his fists, struggling to control his fear, to fight back the panic. But he could not control the shaking of his body, the trembling of his legs as the horrors of the night crashed down on him.
Movement came from his right, and he turned to find Liz standing beside him. Their eyes met, and then they were embracing, and Chris felt her shuddering with the same terror that swirled within him. They clung together for a long minute before breaking apart.
Taking a breath, Chris finally managed to control his fear. He looked at the others. “Are you okay?”
Richard and Jasmine stared back, their hair frazzled and faces marked by dirt where they had fallen in the darkness. Otherwise, they looked no worse for wear from their brief period in captivity. The young girl sat in the grass behind them, her grey wings hanging limply from her back as she stared at the ground. Richard and Jasmine stood with their arms folded. Richard kept his expression carefully blank as he nodded, but Chris could see the fear behind his eyes.
Beside Richard, Jasmine’s brow creased in anger. “We’re fine,” she snapped as she stepped towards him, “but where the hell were you two?”
Chris blinked, almost stepped back from the force of her fury. “What?”
“Where were you?” Jasmine hissed, jabbing her finger at them like a knife, “When the soldiers came, when we woke with guns in our faces. Where were you?” she all but screeched the last words.
She broke off as Richard stepped up and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Jas, don’t,” he breathed, looking across at Chris as he spoke, “I saw them go off. I was on watch,” he bowed his head. “It was my fault. I was so tired, I must have fallen asleep.”
Chris’s stomach wrenched at Richard’s words, and across the clearing Jasmine twisted away from him. She thrust her hands into his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. “You fell asleep?”
Jasmine stepped forward and shoved Richard again. The boy made no move to defend himself, only bowed his head before her rage. Shrieking, Jasmine swung a fist at his face, catching him in the cheek. The blow sent him reeling, and tripping over his own feet, Richard fell to the ground.
Before Jasmine could land any more blows, Liz leapt forward and caught her by the arm. “Jasmine, stop!”
A low growl came from Jasmine’s throat as she turned on Liz, fist raised. Quick as a cat, Liz caught her other wrist as well. “Don’t,” she snapped, looking Jasmine in the eye. “It’s not his fault. We should have come back earlier, taken over the watch from him. We were careless, foolish even. We should have guessed they’d be waiting for us to appear, to leave the safety of the mountains. We could spend all day debating who’s fault this is, but there’s no time. That helicopter could be back any minute.”
Chris swallowed. Liz was right – there was no way of knowing whether the men in the helicopter knew what had happened to the soldiers, but it would not take them long to find out. Then they would lock the area down, trap them in the forest while their soldiers closed in from all around.
“We have to risk it,” Liz spoke again, “we have to fly. If we stay low to the trees, we’ll be difficult to pick out. But we need to get clear of this forest, and fast. The whole place is going to become a battle ground when they see what the Chead did to their men.”
“How?” Richard asked softly as he picked himself up from the ground. Ignoring the glare Jasmine shot him, he looked up at the sky, “There’s no cliffs to jump off around here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Chris looked across the clearing, studying the gently sloping grass, and the trees rising up on the far side. “I think we can do it,” he answered, “If we run hard across the clearing, I think we’ll be able to get enough lift to take off. Just like a kite.”
He flashed the others a grim smile. Without waiting for an answer, he started to run. Darting across the damp grass, he spread his wings and picked up his pace. The air cracked as twenty-four feet of tawny brown feathers beat down. Muscles tensed along his torso as the wind caught. The soft grass bent beneath his feet, warm to the touch.
Gritting his teeth, Chris watched the trees on the far side of the clearing rapidly approaching. When there were only a few feet remaining, he sucked in a breath and sprang. His auburn wings beat down hard, and his stomach lurched as he lifted higher. He grinned as the earth fell away, then banked quickly to avoid the trees rushing towards him. Soaring around the circumference of the paddock, he watched the others follow him.
Then the five of them were airborne, and without pausing to think, Chris shot up above the treetops. He cast a glance back in the direction the helicopter had taken, but there was no sign of it. Even so, it could not have gone far. Shifting his wings, he headed in the opposite direction, down the valley towards the distant Californian plains. Wings cracked as Liz settled in beside him, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
A broad valley stretched out around them, the redwoods covering its floor like a carpet. But to either side low cliffs hemmed them in, stretching down to the mouth of the valley, where the last of the hills gave way to the grassy floodplains.
Chris scanned the cliffs as they flew, searching for the shadow of a cave, but there was nothing. Casting a glance back, he could still see no sign of the helicopter, but over the roar of the wind, he heard the whine of an engine again now, drawing closer.
Ahead, the cliffs bent away to the right as the valley altered course slightly. Straining his wings, Chris shot for the cliff-face t
o the right, where the curve in the rock would hide them from the helicopter farther up the valley. Beside him, Liz’s black wings were a blur, beating hard to keep her above the treetops. They were so close Chris could have reached out and touched the pine needles.
He let out a long sigh as they passed around the curve of the cliffs and out of view. But he knew the respite would not last long. Ahead, the cliffs ended abruptly, as below the forest spilled out onto the Californian plains, before finally giving way to the grasses of the prairies. Beyond, brown fields stretched out as far as the eye could see. Sheep and cattle dotted the fields, but the open land offered little to hide them from the prowling eyes of the chopper.
He looked across as he heard Liz shout, and saw her bank to the right. Her hand rose, waving them to follow, and then she was soaring across the last of the trees. Chris turned and chased after her, his eyes travelling out over the land beyond. Far across the plains, a small mountain rose towards the sky, alone amidst the endless flat. Liz was making straight for it.
Seeing her plan, Chris increased his pace, his wings beating hard to catch her. The crack of feathers striking air came from behind as the others followed. Below the last of the forest gave way to dry grass, and their shadows flashed across the fields, their wings stretched wide to either side of them. Ahead the mountain grew larger, extending five hundred feet above the surrounding prairies. Scraggly trees covered its steep sides, though he doubted they would offer much cover. He hoped Liz knew what she was doing.
The mountain stood at least two miles from where the valley ended. Flying hard, they raced to close the gap, ever aware of the mounting buzz of the helicopter.
When they were still a few hundred feet away, the thud of whirling blades turned suddenly to a roar. Ahead, Liz folded her wings and plummeted from the sky. Chris dived after her, pulling his wings tight against his back, spiralling down towards the plains below. Less than a hundred feet from the ground Liz’s snapped back wings open. The air cracked as they caught, halting her fall. Without looking back, she shot towards the mountain.
Levelling out, Chris gave in to his fear and glanced back. The chopper had emerged from the mouth of the valley. It hovered above the last stretch of trees, a dark shadow staining the open sky. So far it did not seem to have spotted them. Filling his lungs, Chris pressed on.
The mountain rose up before them, a dark wart on the endless prairies. Liz banked as she reached its rocky edge, flying horizontal to its slopes until she disappeared around the far side of the mountain.
One by one, they followed her.
Chris breathed a sigh of relief as the shadow of the mountain fell across his wings, hiding him from view. He started to slow, expecting Liz to pull up, before he realised she was still flying hard around the mountainside. His chest burned, and a sharp cramp had begun in the small of back, but Liz wasn’t giving them any time to argue. Groaning, he followed her, the aches of their week-long flight through the mountains pounding in every inch of his body. Mutated physiology or not, they desperately needed food and rest.
Slowly, Liz drifted closer to the mountainside, the beat of her wings slowing as she neared its rocky slopes. The scraggly trees grew taller on this side of the mountain, offering at least a little cover from prying eyes. And ahead, Chris noticed a sharp split in the mountainside, as though some giant had carved a piece of rock from the steep slopes.
Chris frowned as he realised Liz was making straight for the shadows of the crease, as though she had known it was there all along. Staring ahead, he blinked as shapes took form within the shadows. A cluster of buildings clung to the side of the mountainside, all but invisible in the gloom of the valley. Thick vines and creepers clung to the aluminium roofs and wooden walls, and it was clear the buildings had been abandoned long go. Even so, the sight of civilisation sent a tingle of renewed energy through Chris, and he raced to catch up with Liz.
A few minutes later, he touched down in the broken courtyard between the buildings. His wings shook with the effort, and he stumbled slightly as his legs took his weight. Folding his wings, he groaned at the ache spreading up his back. He kneaded the side of his head, feeling the first tingles of a migraine beginning.
Liz had landed a full minute before him, and was already moving towards the largest of the buildings. Before he could call out, she pushed through the broken door and disappeared inside. Exhausted, Chris shook his head and chased after her, leaving the others to catch their breath outside.
Moving to the doorway, he paused on the threshold and looked down the empty corridor. Dust covered the floor, untouched except where Liz had left light footprints leading down the hall. A dark stain marked the floorboards at the end of the hall, and an untouched silence clung to the shadows. Taking a step inside, Chris found himself wondering why the occupants had left this place.
His ears twitched as he sensed movement from deeper inside the building.
“Liz?” he called.
When she did not answer, Chris swore softly under his breath, and started along the corridor. Apprehension growing in his chest, he followed Liz’s footprints through the dusty rooms.
He found her in what must have once been the lounge. She stood in the empty room, her back turned and head bowed, wings half spread behind her. Her shoulders shook with silent tears, and her black hair hung limp around her neck.
Chris quickly crossed the wooden floor and placed a hand on her shoulder. A tremor went through her at his touch, and a single sob tore from her throat. The first prickles of fear touched Chris as she turned, her blue eyes finding his.
“Liz, what is this place, Liz?” he whispered.
Tears streaked her cheeks as she looked up. “Home.”
9
Sam winced as the steel door clicked open. A sharp sob tore from his mouth, and an involuntary shudder ran through his body as he scrambled backwards. The collar snapped tight around his throat, halting his retreat, and a desperate moan rattled from his chest.
Every muscle, every bone in his body ached. Even the sleek copper feathers of his wings were twisted and broken. They lay scattered around the room like fallen leaves, torn from his flesh when his captors grew tired of beating his body. No matter how hard he tried to escape the pain now, it was always there.
Even in his dreams he could not escape its touch.
And now his tormentors had returned for more.
Clenching his fists against the concrete, Sam clung to the last traces of his sanity, as the soft pad of footsteps drew closer. He waited for the tell-tale squeal of the chair as someone sat, but it did not come. Another tremor went through him and he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Good morning, Samuel.” Sam jumped as Halt’s voice broke the silence.
Tears stung his eyes as he finally looked up. Halt stood over him once more, arms folded, his cold grey eyes staring down. Sam had lost all track of time since he’d last seen the doctor. His torture had been left to others.
A distant flutter of anger rose in Sam, little more than a spark of the rage that had once fuelled him. And looking into Halt’s cold, remorseless eyes, even that fell away, leaving only unchecked terror. His shoulders slumped and tears spit down his cheeks. Another sob tore from his throat.
“Please,” he choked, all trace of defiance stripped away. “Please, no more, I can’t…”
Sam flinched as Halt shifted, but the doctor only crouched beside him, a grim smile on his pale face. Stretching out an arm, Halt patted him gently on the shoulder.
“My dear Samuel,” he whispered, almost pleasantly, “It pains me to see you suffer so. You are one of our chosen, one of the few deemed worthy of this gift. Do you not wish to be free again?”
Huddled on the floor, with Halt’s warm hand on his shoulder, Sam barely registered the doctor’s words. But the last few syllables clung to him, piercing the fog of his shattered body, pulling him up from the darkness.
Free again…
Standing, Halt retreated across the room and lowered himse
lf into the iron chair. Entwining his fingers, he looked down at Sam. “I have an offer for you, Samuel,” he said.
Deep within him, Sam heard a voice shouting, telling him to fight, to resist the man’s words. In his soul, he knew anything Halt offered would be a trap, a ploy to lure him into some fresh torment. Even so, Sam clung to them like a drowning man, desperate for a lifeline against the torments of his cell.
“Please,” he croaked, bowing his head, “I’ll do anything. Just, no more, please!”
Halt chuckled as he climbed to his feet. “That is good to hear, Samuel,” behind him the door clicked open as two guards entered. Halt nodded at them and waved to Samuel, “Unlock the chain.”
Sam shrank against the concrete as the men approached. Both had their rifles slung over their shoulders and the hated batons clipped to their belts. But they made no move to use them. Instead, one produced a key and unlocked the bolt that kept the chain fixed into the ground. Lifting the chain, he offered it to Halt.
Trembling on the floor, Sam did not move as Halt took the chain and gave it a tug.
“Stand, Samuel,” Halt ordered softly, “Join me. There is someone who would like to see you.”
Goosebumps ran down Sam’s arms as the words slithered through his consciousness. Pulling himself to his feet, he allowed Halt to lead him out of the stark concrete room and into the long corridors of the facility. His bones creaked as he moved, and his muscles ached with the long days spent huddling on the ground. He stumbled after Halt, each step an agony, the weight of his half-folded wings heavy on his back. From behind him came the thud of boots as the guards followed, their rifles held at the ready now.
The trip did not take long. A few quick turns down the brightly lit corridors, and Halt drew to a stop again. He released the chain that connected to Sam’s collar and nodded at the door, “I will give you some time to get reacquainted.”
Sam shuddered as he eyed the steel panelled door, his sluggish mind struggling to comprehend what game Halt was playing. He glanced at the doctor, unable to believe this could truly be happening. Surely it was a trap, some cruel trick to shatter the last traces of his sanity.