Awoken

by Timothy Miller

  Michael glanced over to the dancers. They were blowing kisses at him and giggling. “Are you going to kill me and collect on the life insurance?”

  “No.”

  “Then we still have a problem.”

  Diggs’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “I have to agree, Melina. How is getting a date for Mike going to help our situation?”

  Lina rolled her eyes. “Be serious, you two. I didn’t go over there to get Mike a date.”

  Michael sat up straight. “You didn’t?”

  “Of course not. I went over there to ask if it was too late to sign up for the competition.”

  “You did what?” Michael exploded.

  “They told me there’ve been a couple of last-minute cancellations, so finding me a spot shouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “And you, Mike, are going to make me a costume.”

  “Good luck,” one of the dancers called. “See you on stage!”

  Michael’s forehead banged back down on the table. “Somebody please kill me.”

  23

  As the Crow Flies

  The wind was warm and even, stroking his feathers like a soft brush as he scanned the streets below. A flash of instinct drew his gaze to a squirrel carcass someone’s tire had left tenderized on the street. Empty pain tightened A-12’s belly, but he didn’t descend for the inviting meal. The squirrel was not his objective, not his mission.

  Soaring over the carcass, he flew for several miles before a flickering white sign and the smell of hot food triggered a recognition protocol. The building below was a restaurant. Like gas stations and motels, the diner was a location he was supposed to investigate.

  He slapped his wings to his sides and plummeted.

  A strange sensation, alien and exhilarating, filled him as he sliced down through the darkness. It had been like this since his first flight in the Farm aerie. Such meteoric drops from on high brought a contentment that was on par with a full stomach. The joyous feeling was as much a part of him as his feathers, or the cold metal filament lining his ribs.

  His wings snapped out at the last second, catching the air and arresting his fall. After a quick series of flaps, he clamped his talons onto the glowing sign.

  The door chimed below him, then opened. The oily mix of smells excreted from humanity wafted up to him as four females in glittering attire exited the building. A-12 opened his beak wide, drawing the scents into his modified olfactory glands.

  Perfume, shampoo, sweat, nylon, diet cola…

  A-12 cocked his head. There was something else, a faint trace that caused his twin hearts to quicken and his mismatched eyes to dilate.

  The door chimed again. Three subjects, two male and one female, left the building. The smaller of the males smelled agitated.

  “You two are nuts! I’m not going to do it.”

  The new scent grew stronger in A-12’s olfactory receptors, triggering a recognition protocol in his frontal lobe. He stiffened.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” the female said. “Just do as I say, and everything will be fine. I’ve been taking ballet since I was four, and attending dance camps since I was seven. Trust me, Michael, I’ve already got a killer routine. I was planning to perform it in the singles competition at camp. I’ve been rehearsing for the last two months.”

  “I think she’s got a good idea, Mike,” said the larger male. “If Lina can win, we’ll save a lot of time.”

  “You don’t…”

  The smaller male stopped talking in midsentence, and looked back toward the restaurant.

  A-12 huddled down, making himself as small as possible.

  The larger male touched the smaller on the shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  The smaller male searched the darkness, his gaze crossing over A-12 at least twice without pause.

  Finally, the smaller male shook his head. “I thought…never mind.”

  The female slapped the smaller male on the back of the head. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “Why are you being such an idiot?” the male countered.

  The argument continued as the three subjects moved away.

  “You’re the idiot. Why can’t you just do as you’re told?”

  “Because you’re insane. You belong in a padded room with the rest of the…”

  When the subjects were far enough away that A-12 no longer felt threatened with discovery, he straightened. Double-tapping his chest with his beak, he activated the monofilament disc beneath his skin. Stretching out his wings, he swooped after the three subjects, mismatched eyes glued to the small male. His beak opened wide, and a grating, un-birdlike sound emerged from A-12.

  “Pry-mare-eeeee.”

  24

  Playing Dressmaker

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Mike,” Lina said.

  The dressing room was a clutter of makeup, mirrors, and props from dozens of high school plays and musicals. Trunks and wardrobes packed with clothes lay piled against the walls, and a tall dressing screen stood in the corner.

  Michael glared at the faded blue dress that hung over the top of the screen. “How many times do I have to say it? This isn’t going to work.”

  “In the diner, you said merging with glass wasn’t dangerous around me.”

  “I was talking about moving marbles, Lina. This is totally different. Besides, I don’t know the first thing about costume making.”

  “Don’t be such a drama queen.” Lina’s T-shirt flopped over the top of the screen, and the dress disappeared. “We need this, Mike. I’ve been dancing for ten years. I’m good. Really good, actually. But that’s probably not going to be enough for me to win this thing. I haven’t practiced since getting this rock stuck in my hand. I haven’t even had time to stretch properly, so I’ll be a little stiff around the edges. Bottom line, we’re going to need a little extra something if we’re going to win this thing. I don’t know what kind of judges this school has, but a killer costume might just go a long way in glossing over a few minor mistakes. Plus, what else am I going to wear? I don’t even have a leotard.”

  “I can’t just make things, Lina.”

  A large straw sombrero bumped into Michael’s leg. “This one likes costumes, Awoken. May this one keep the costume?”

  Michael nudged the hat away with his foot. “No. Put that back where you found it, Jericho.”

  The giant hat tipped up, revealing Jericho’s petulant face. “Why can this one not keep the costume, Awoken? This one likes his costume.”

  “Because I can’t fit that thing in my backpack,” Michael answered. “Plus, this is the third time you’ve run into me. You’re blind as a bat under there.”

  “This one thinks you are jealous, Awoken,” Jericho huffed. The sombrero scampered away, bouncing off storage trunks and props with indignant principle. “This one has a better costume than Michael who is the Awoken.”

  Lina stepped out from behind the screen. “What do you think?”

  Michael’s mouth went dry, and he tried not to stare. The strapless dress fit well, molding to Lina’s body like a second skin from chest to hip before flaring out to a scandalous end halfway down her thigh. Lina looked fantastic, but the color of her dress was faded badly. Only the pristine, sheer, skin-tight white gloves that reached all the way to her elbows looked new.

  Lina’s lips quirked upward at his expression. Suddenly, she swiveled her hips, causing the shockingly short hem of her dress to flare about her thighs. “You like?”

  Clearing his dry throat, he said, “I think you should drop out now, before you embarrass yourself. That dress is so thin you can almost… well…”

  “See through it?” Lina suggested.

  Michael’s cheeks grew hot. “I didn’t say that!”

  Lina laughed. “Relax,” she said, holding up his bag of marbles. “I won’t be dancing like this. We still have to make a few adjustments. Ready?”

  Michael scowled. “You’d better hope this works. I liked those marbles.”
<
br />   The sombrero bumped into Lina’s foot. She kicked Jericho away absently and set the marble pouch on the floor. “If this works, I’ll buy you new ones.” She brought her fist down on the pouch like a blacksmith’s hammer. She hit the bag a dozen times more before pouring out the powdery remains onto the floor. “That should do.”

  “Good job,” Michael congratulated. “You killed my marbles.”

  “Could you at least pretend to have a brain for five seconds?”

  “That depends. Will it hurt?”

  Lina planted her fists on her hips. “Are you going to do this or not?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Lina?” he asked seriously. “Remember what happened last time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What happened last time, Awoken?” the sombrero asked.

  “Not now, Jericho. And take off that stupid hat.”

  “This one likes the hat.”

  Lina touched her fingers to her silvery hair. “This is getting worse, Mike. I can feel parts changing…inside me. I don’t want to wait for Diggs to earn gas money. I need to get to the dollmen as fast as I can.”

  The dressing screen teetered and fell, flattening the sombrero. “This one is not blind, Awoken!” Jericho insisted from beneath the squashed hat.

  “Just don’t let the stonesong merge with me, okay?” Lina said. “Diggs said that’s what caused the earthbone to mutate so fast. Just keep it in the glass. Compared to moving marbles around a plate, that should be easy as pie.”

  Michael stared at her. She was changing, and more quickly than Diggs had predicted. Maybe they couldn’t afford to wait for Diggs to earn the money.

  A soft double-tap came from the door, and Diggs stuck his shaggy head into the dressing room. “They’re starting out here. Are we ready?”

  Lina gave Michael a questioning look. “Well, are we ready?”

  Michael was torn. His skill with the stonesong was growing, but so, too, was its strength. Could he do as Lina asked without losing control?

  “You can do it, Mike,” Lina said softly. “I know you can.”

  “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” Diggs eyed the crushed sombrero with a puzzled frown. “But if you’re not out there soon, you’ll be disqualified.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “Give us a minute, Diggs.” His eyes filled with silver. “We’ll be right out.”

  25

  Dance of Light

  The high school stage was made of polished wood framed by towering maroon curtains. Bright spotlights illuminated twisting plastic vines and leaves adorning the twin pillars on either side of the stage. Michael felt an uncomfortable flutter in his stomach. The auditorium was much larger than he had expected, as was the crowd that filled the tiered seats. A line of dancers waited their turns to perform just offstage.

  “We’ll see you two after the show,” Diggs said. He shifted Michael’s backpack higher onto his shoulder and smiled at Lina. “I’d say break a leg, but you two are pushing your luck far enough already. I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my dear.”

  Lina curtsied. “Thank you, Diggs.”

  Her gown sparkled dazzlingly, even in the dim light. Held together by Michael’s will, the colored glass covering the gown rippled in glistening waves as Lina straightened.

  “You’re welcome, Melina.” Diggs leaned in close to Michael. “Just remember to keep those sunglasses on, and to keep the stonesong from merging with Lina. We can’t risk speeding up her mutation any more.”

  “As if I’d forget,” Michael whispered in reply. The stonesong squirmed, reaching longingly to the earthbone inside Lina. He pulled back, but the act was difficult. Keeping the power confined to the dress was like ignoring a maddening itch on his nose. “Let’s hope this doesn’t take too long.”

  “Stay strong, Mike,” Diggs said, heading offstage. “Good luck to both of you.”

  As Diggs went to find his seat, Michael and Lina joined the line of dancers. The competition had already started. On stage, one of the girls from the diner was spinning in rhythm to a thumping, busy beat.

  Michael waited at the rear of the line while Lina went to talk to a severe-looking woman in a black dress standing at the head of the group. The woman checked the clipboard she was holding and said something. Lina nodded to the woman and then walked back over Michael.

  “Who’s that?” Michael asked.

  “Ms. Darwin, one of the judges. She’s in charge of the dancing order.”

  “When do you go on?”

  “I’m up next.” Lina’s eyes were on the girl performing. Her lips curved down into a speculative frown. “She’s pretty good. The best here, I’ll bet.”

  The earthbone’s music resonated in her voice, seductive, magnetic, drawing him as a moth to flame. The stonesong quivered. Gritting his teeth, Michael tightened his hold on the slippery power. “But you can beat her, right?”

  Lina didn’t answer, but her frown deepened.

  The music rose to a crescendo. The girl from the diner finished her routine at the exact moment the melody stopped, and ended in a split, center stage. The applause was loud and long. The curtain came down.

  Ms. Darwin consulted her clipboard. “Melina Smith?”

  Lina raised her hand. “Here.” She stepped forward.

  Michael touched her arm. “Wait.”

  The earthbone’s song rose up from her skin, clawing at him with loud, humming fingers. He gasped and jerked his hand away.

  “Are you alright, Mike?” Lina whispered.

  “I was just…I wanted…” He tried to remember what he’d been about to say, but couldn’t seem to concentrate, or to take his eyes from Lina. It might have been the dress, or the lighting, but Michael realized Diggs was right.

  Melina was stunning.

  “Umm…Good luck, Lina.”

  Lina gave an odd little smile. “Just don’t let my dress fall apart while I’m out there.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  With a tiny wave to him, she hurried out to center stage and knelt down on one knee behind the curtain. Her white-gloved fists resting on the floor, she let her long hair fall around her like a black and silver veil. A low, haunting melody filled the air.

  The stonesong swelled.

  “You can do it,” whispered Michael, unsure if he was encouraging Lina or himself.

  The curtain rose and Lina exploded from the stage like a startled quail. The lights caught her gown, and audience gasped. Wrapped in a shimmering rainbow, she floated across the stage. Her leaps were elegant and poised, her toes barely seeming to touch the floor as she swept through a series of movements smooth as silk on the wind. At one point, she touched down on one foot and spun, and her glass dress became a whirl of sparkling flame.

  The dance was like nothing Michael had ever seen, all light and motion and speed. He was mesmerized, and in that moment of inattention, his concentration wavered. The stonesong slipped, and a gauzy, three-foot strip of bonded glass broke free of the gown.

  “Crud,” he growled, seizing the loose glass with the stonesong before the fragments broke away completely. Held by his will, the gauzy strip trailed Lina like a kite tail, flowing up and around her for long seconds before he could coax the glass back into the dress.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Neither the audience nor the other dancers reacted to the wardrobe malfunction. They must have mistaken the loose glass for some kind of thin scarf, and part of Lina’s costume.

  The music changed, increasing in tempo. And Lina became a shining whirlwind, her toes caressing the floor for the briefest of moments before propelling her back into the air. The muttered conversation of the other dancers ceased. Even Ms. Darwin clutched her clipboard tightly to her chest and watched the stage with wide, unblinking eyes.

  Michael barely noticed. Fists clenched at his sides, he fought a losing battle on a razor’s edge of his will. The earthbone in Lina’s body called more loudly with every passing second, chipping away at his concentratio
n as he struggled to contain the stonesong.

  A soft light appeared in the palm of Lina’s glove, and pure dread welled up inside Michael. The waystone was reacting to the stonesong. He was losing his hold.

  A sprinkling of glass broke away from the gown.

  No. He wouldn’t let this happen. Lina was counting on him.

  Closing his eyes, he sank more deeply into the stonesong, seeking out the gentle melody of the glass amidst the thrumming of the earthbone. The song was there, buried, distant, but present. He strained to strengthen his connection to the glass and nearly lost his hold completely. The earthbone was too close, too potent. He couldn’t focus. He pulled back, feeling the dress coming apart in his mind. If he didn’t do something quick, Lina was about to become a very underdressed dancer.

  There was only one chance. Gathering his will, he coaxed the glass gently away from the earthbone. The earthbone’s call slowly faded, and he focused all of his attention on holding together the glass. The music stopped, and a clipboard clattered noisily to the floor.

  Michael opened his eyes.

  Ms. Darwin made no move to pick up her clipboard. She, like the dancers around her, stared openmouthed at center stage, where Lina stood with her arms outstretched, face raised toward the sky.

  The sight caused Michael to swallow thickly, his throat suddenly dry.

  “Not good.”

  He’d managed to hold the glass together alright, but only a light coating remained on the dress. Bound by the stonesong, the rest of the gleaming particles orbited Lina like curious fireflies, gently tousling her hair and gown as they circled.

  “Definitely not good.”

  Quickly, he willed the floating glass to the floor, but he knew he was too late. Any second now, the shock would wear off and outright pandemonium would ensue.

  They had to get out of here. Frantically, he searched for Diggs’s shaggy head among the audience. He couldn’t find the drifter anywhere and thought about calling out for him. Then, he noticed the four men in black suits and sunglasses flanking the exits.