by Kevin George
He shook his head and exhaled, reminding himself of all the children he hadn’t been there to save, of all the hosts that had suffered a lifetime of loving and losing children that hadn’t ended up the way The Board wanted.
“The hosts,” Love said. “They’re being treated fairly now?”
Walda nodded, but Love paid more attention to the guards behind her. He couldn’t ignore the doubtful expressions on their faces.
“Of course. They’re being treated as the heroes they are,” Walda said. “If not for the sacrifices they’ve made for years—sacrifices made by my sisters and friends—you never would’ve been born to bring back our wonderful Descendant. This is truly a day those brave women will celebrate as much as the rest of us.”
Love wanted to believe her, but his wings still rippled as the guard leader continued forward. Walda stopped and smiled, though it was obviously forced.
“I want to see them. . . the hosts,” Love said. “I want to see that they’re being well taken care of. I want to see that they’re being treated like the heroes you say.”
Walda’s smile faded. Her head turned to the right and then to the left, where she nodded at the nearest guards on both sides of her. They inched forward, stopping abruptly when Love looked at them. Their weapons remained slung innocently over their shoulders, but Love didn’t expect that to last long.
“There’ll be plenty of time to see them later,” Walda said, her voice eerily calm, lulling Love’s attention onto her. “We’ve waited our entire lives for the Descendant, and so has The Board. I think it’s best if we bring the two of you to them right away.”
The guards pushed forward again, still slowly, not bothering to stop when Love saw them coming. He took a step back and bumped into Emma, who instinctively grasped at his hand. She squeezed hard but said nothing; Love didn’t need to see her face to sense her concern. Emma backed up in unison with Love, but cold wind and snow swirled around them as they neared the ledge.
“Stop and back away!” Love snapped at the guards.
“I’m sorry, but we have our orders,” Walda said. “I promise we’ll take good care of the Descendant. While we bring her to the Board, you can rest and—”
“I will escort her wherever she has to go,” Love said.
Walda frowned and stopped. The guards followed her lead.
“I am the lead guard. . . I follow The Board’s commands. . . and you are still a guest here, one without the same amount of leverage you once had,” Walda said. “Please, I don’t want to pull rank, but—”
Love scurried back and to the side of Emma, quickly wrapping his arm around her waist. He felt her body tense as they glanced over the ledge to the snowy ground below.
“I’ll protect you, as I promised, no matter what,” he whispered. Emma’s body quivered, but she nodded and hooked her arm through his. Love stood taller as he turned back to the guards. “One more step and I’ll take the Descendant so far away that you’ll never find her.”
Walda held up a hand to stop the guards.
“Something’s broken in that freak,” said an unseen guard.
“The Aviaries. . . their brains get damaged when they’re changed. . . or they’re born that way, like him,” another said. “Maybe we should let Love take the Descendant far away so we can abandon this whole idea of—”
Gasps arose. Walda hissed at the guard, instantly silencing him. She waved the group back until only she stood within twenty feet of the arrivals.
“Everything will be okay,” she said, her voice quiet and steady. “Your contributions will not be forgotten, and I’m certain the Board will allow you to ensure the Descendant’s safety and comfort in her new home.”
Love chirped quietly. He wanted to believe her—he wanted to believe Emma would be safe and things would change for the better in The Mountain—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should leap off the ledge and fly away forever. And if you do that, Love told himself, these hallways will be filled with the sounds of moaning and crying and torture for years to come. . .
Soon, the hallway filled with another sound: a hollow, distant clicking that grew louder as it approached. The crowd of guards scurried out of the way, nearly pushing one another to clear a path. Emma felt Love’s grip loosen around her waist. She stepped to the side and looked down the dark tunnel, where a shadowy form—taller and wider than any guard—hobbled toward them.
“I understand your doubts,” the large man said in a singsong voice, higher-pitched than Love’s but with a threatening edge.
When he stepped into the light, Emma saw that he was a Sky Person. An Aviary, she reminded herself, respecting the proper terminology Love had taught her. He was dotted with feathers like Love, but that was where their similarities ended. Emma glanced at Love, whose sharp facial features, puffed chest and symmetrical wings made him appear strong and majestic. The other Aviary possessed none of those regal qualities. His crooked nose was severely hooked and pushed down too far beneath his eyes, which were spread so far apart that Emma wondered if he could see straight. His body was painfully thin, his back hunched, his right shoulder dipping lower than his left. The clicking sound was made by his feet every time he took a step. Though he wore shoes, they didn’t cover the strange clawed hooks protruding through matching holes in the front.
“Quentin,” Walda said breathlessly. “I didn’t know the Board was sending you.”
“You may have voted me to the Board, but I’ll always be a guard in here,” he said, tapping his chest. “And there was a time I felt the same doubts some of you feel about where the future of The Mountain lies, about what’s best for everyone still living here.”
Quentin stopped in front of one particular guard.
“I. . . what I said. . . I didn’t mean it how—”
Quentin placed a feathered hand on the guard’s shoulder. It was apparently meant as a calming gesture, but the fear on the guard’s face told Emma exactly how he felt.
“Please, there’s no need to explain,” Quentin said. He exhaled long and slow, creating more of a lilting sound than a sigh. “I don’t spend as much time as I used to with all of you. But I’m still—and will forever be—a guard, first and foremost, always looking out for what’s best for our kind.”
“I. . . I know that. . . I voted for you to represent us,” the guard said.
“And for that I thank you,” Quentin said. “But the Board and I disagree with the idea of letting the Descendant go.”
“It’s just I know how much suffering has been caused by trying to create Aviaries,” the guard said. The few guards standing closest to him inched away. The guard frowned, seeming to understand that he needed to shut up but unable to do so. “I don’t want anyone else to. . . to go through that.”
“To go through what I did? To suffer what I did? To turn into this?” Quentin said. His thin lips pulled back into a hideous smile. “You’re not wrong. I know how much my physical form changed when I joined the Board and was given the injection. I never wanted to look like this.”
Quentin turned from guard to guard, each of them nodding when his eyes found them. But Emma didn’t see a look of comfort on any of their faces; in fact, she saw quite the opposite. Quentin turned and hobbled toward Emma and Love. Emma was certain he’d tip over with every step, but he managed to stay upright. Quentin wore a white lab coat, but as he came closer, Emma saw the coat was stained yellow and covered with splotches of red.
“I accepted the injection as part of my job,” he continued, pointing to Love. “I accepted an injection of Aviary Blast based on your remarkable blood. Just as the rest of the Board members failed to become a fully-formed Aviary, alas I suffered the same.” Quentin stopped a few feet in front of them, his head turning slightly to one side, a single wide-set eye landing upon Emma. “But with help from the Descendant. . .”
He smiled again, causing a shiver to rush through Emma. She instinctively reached out and grabbed Love’s hand, squeezing tightly and feeling him squ
eeze in return. Still, she thought she saw a flash of sincerity in Quentin’s eyes.
“With your arrival—and, of course, with permission to extract a sample of your blood—you could be the savior for every person in the Mountain, a savior we’ve been waiting generations for,” Quentin explained. “As much as I’d love to return to being human—and allow every human in The Mountain to remain human—I’m afraid the temperatures outside have shown no signs of warming. The weather has already eradicated humankind on the rest of the planet. I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before the same happens to everyone here.”
Quentin nodded toward the guards. Emma took a small step closer, where she had a better view of the humans. Though they’d been intimidating during the chaos of Emma’s arrival, she saw the guards differently now that they stood a safe distance away. Most of the faces looking at her were sallow and thin, their eyes sunken, their skin dull and unhealthy. Emma wasn’t a stranger to living in harsh conditions—or seeing fellow Thirders endure difficult lifestyles—but there seemed to be something different about these people, something far more defeated and desperate than anyone she’d ever known.
And I’m the one they’ve been waiting to save them, she thought.
“Becoming Aviary—a better version than the Board and me—is the only chance for our species to survive,” Quentin continued. “Reaching this point has resulted in many. . . regrettable sacrifices, but every hardship has occurred in hopes for a better future. Let’s put the past behind us and find a way to move forward.”
“It’s that simple?” Love asked.
Quentin strained to stand a bit straighter, still several inches shorter than Love. The former guard’s back bulged slightly, but only on one side. Emma assumed his bodily deformities extended to his wings.
“If I was willing to put myself at such risk and move past it, shouldn’t everyone else do the same? Shouldn’t you be able to do the same?” Quentin asked.
“Risk?” Love asked, his wings twitching. “I’m sorry, were you tested for flight by being tossed over the ledge?”
Quentin frowned and backed away. He sighed, his back seeming to hunch deeper than it had before. “I hated the breeding program as much as everyone else did. . . as much as the Board did. And as far as the way Kap and Moretti handled our poor women. . . well, let’s just say I didn’t shed any tears when they raced into the Frozen Wasteland and never returned. But if Kap and Moretti’s extreme practices proved one thing, it’s that our desire to survive reached desperate levels years ago. But your years of brave service have finally brought us the Descendant, finally brought us all a chance to survive this cold, cruel world.”
Quentin kneeled a few feet in front of them, bowing his head as he extended a hand in their direction. The invisible hand squeezing Emma’s chest eased its grip. The Aviary kneeling before her no longer seemed so ominous, nor did he seem so hideous. Emma felt ashamed to have judged him so quickly. When she turned to the guards and looked from one desperate face to another, she no longer doubted whether she would try to help. Only the tension she still felt from Love’s hand holding hers gave Emma cause for concern.
“We can trust you?” Love asked Quentin. His voice lowered an octave. Emma wondered if his doubts were also easing. “Truly?”
Quentin stood slowly, wobbling as he did. He nodded, continuing to keep his hand outstretched. Emma wanted to reach out and take it, but Love shifted his body just enough to block her. At first, she assumed his slight move had been coincidental; soon, she realized otherwise. Love stared at Quentin’s hand for a long, awkward moment but ultimately ignored it, shaking his head as he looked into Quentin’s eyes.
“Then what’s in the restricted section?” Love asked.
A few hissed gasps arose from the guards. Emma glanced toward them long enough to see several shocked expressions, several quick glances at each other. But a quick squawk from Quentin regained her attention, and she watched the regretful sincerity fade from his face. His thin, sharp lips drew taut over his teeth and his beady eyes darted from one side to the other.
“I don’t know,” Quentin said, his voice so high-pitched that it cracked. He stepped back, pulling his hand away so abruptly that something rippled within the back of his shirt. He needed a moment to gather himself, unable to hide the anger on his face. “That area has been restricted to me, too, as it is to most Board members. I don’t have the code to the outer door, and I certainly don’t have the proper DNA for the scanner inside.”
Love snickered. “If you’ve never been in the restricted section, how would you know there’s a DNA scanner inside?”
Quentin’s eyes darted to the guards around him, many of whom watched him suspiciously. He sighed, his shoulders sagging.
“Because I’ve heard stories, same as all of you,” he said. “I’m just as much in the dark as the rest of you about whether those stories are true. But I assure you, none of that matters now. The Descendant is here, and we will forever remember this moment as the beginning of a greater future for us all. Now please, Love, finish your lifelong mission. Bring the girl to me.”
Love turned and looked down at Emma.
“Well?” he asked.
“I have nothing left. . . nobody left,” Emma said, her voice cracking. “I can do good here. I can help.” She stepped to the side and had a clear path to Quentin. “All you need is some of my blood?”
Quentin nodded. “Not much. Tell her, Love. We’ve taken plenty of your blood in the past to test versions of the Aviary Blast like the kind I was injected with.”
Emma looked up to Love, whose jaw was clenched, his eyes once again narrowed on Quentin. Still, Love turned his head to her just enough to nod. When Quentin reached a gnarled hand toward Emma a second time, she gently pried her grip from Love and stepped toward the other Sky Person.
Aviary, she told herself.
Quentin smiled as Emma neared him. She almost reached him when Love cut him off.
“I get to be by her side the entire time,” Love demanded. “It will be my decision where she goes and when she goes there.”
“We both know The Board hasn’t granted me the authority to make such a promise,” Quentin said.
Love sighed. “Then I at least have to agree to whatever blood testing is done,” Love said. Emma cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow when Love looked at her. He forced a tiny smile before revising his statement. “She and I both have to agree.”
Quentin turned to Emma and smiled. “She’s the Descendant, the one we’ve waited years to return. Of course we’ll do nothing without her approval. And once the proper Aviary Blast has been created, the Descendant will be free to decide if she wants to leave, or if she wants to stay with us.”
Emma nodded, each breath coming easier as her tension eased. She started forward, but Love blocked her a final time.
“I’ll be allowed by her side the entire time?” Love asked.
“Of course, whatever the Descendant wants,” Quentin said. “Except, of course, for times when the scientists need you out of the lab.”
“Scientists? By scientists you mean you and other Board members trying to decipher ancient notes about the Blast?” Love asked.
Quentin’s thin upper lip curled into a momentary sneer. “I never claimed to be an expert, but some members of the Board have been working in the labs their entire lives. And I’m happy to report that other recent arrivals to the Mountain should lead to an upgrade of experience in the labs. With recent developments, we’re likelier than ever to achieve a perfect Aviary Blast.”
“And it’ll allow everyone to be like Love?” Emma asked. “To fly, and survive the cold, and travel far away if they want?”
“If it works,” Love said.
“Yes, my dear Descendant,” Quentin said, his shifty eyes locking onto Emma’s. “Those that want to leave this prison will finally be able to, and those that want to stay will no longer have to worry if they’ll be able to survive.”
“I’ll want the
injection, too,” she said.
“No,” Love said, spinning toward her. “That’s. . . not what you’d want. . . not if you’ve seen what the injection can do.”
“I’ve seen what you can do,” Emma said, taking his feathered hand.
“An Aviary Descendant might be the strongest being ever,” Quentin said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. “The Board will be thrilled. Please, come.”
He began to walk down the darkened hallway, gesturing for them to follow. Emma tried to pull her hand free from Love’s, but he held on tightly. She gave him a reassuring squeeze before he finally let go and followed her through the crowd. Quentin smiled, gesturing them forward, away from the natural light of the outside world. Emma didn’t look back. Love’s head flitted from side to side, looking inside each open door they passed, finding every room devoid of host mother and test subject. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse about what they were heading toward.
When the guards began to follow, Quentin slowed just enough to let Emma and Love walk ahead of him. Quentin turned to Walda, his eyes narrowing on the leader of the guard leader. Without saying a word, Quentin pointed a hooked hand toward the larger group. He watched with pleasure as all the guards but one parted, leaving a clear view to the man that had spoken out against the Aviaries. The man shook his head in resignation as he looked at the guards frowning around him. Quentin spread his arms wide and made a single flapping motion, the back of his shirt rippling.
Quentin turned and hurried after Love and Emma, pleased that the doomed guard didn’t utter a sound as Walda oversaw the others dragging him toward the ledge. . .