by Kevin George
Quentin stepped forward from the open doorway, having remained quiet until that moment. He’d returned to the Board soon after the scientists arrived and hadn’t had the chance to explain Love’s denial of their request for more of the Descendant’s blood. Ms. Van Horn ordered the father and son to wait outside. Once the Board was alone, Quentin didn’t give anyone a chance to speak first.
“This isn’t worth the risk,” he said, causing dissenting chirps and angry flapping around the table. “We’ve waited years for the Descendant; we can’t risk her life being impatient now.”
“He would want us to do whatever it took—to risk whoever it took—to produce the proper Aviary Blast and pave the way for His return,” argued another Board member with a rare display of clarity. A chorus of squawked agreement filled the room, and Quentin knew right away he was fighting a lost cause.
“How would you know what He wants? How would any of us know?” Quentin yelled, shouting to be heard. “The truth is, none of us has ever talked to Him, none of us knows what He’d want.”
“But we do know what we want,” Ms. Van Horn said with icy finality. “Guards and humans followed our orders for generations, they allowed us to conduct our experiments and lead The Mountain as our ancestors saw fit. When they finally started to realize we weren’t as powerful as we told them—at a time when you were still a regular human among them—we were forced to inject ourselves with the only Aviary Blast at our disposal. We were forced to turn ourselves into this.”
She looked down at her open hands, hooked and sharp and deformed. Her expression softened into a sadness Quentin had never before seen from their leader. It didn’t last long.
“Our transformation instilled fear in the humans for a long time, but it won’t be long before they figure out how weak we truly are,” Ms. Van Horn said.
“If they don’t already know,” Quentin said.
Another Board member slapped a feathered hand onto the table. “Which is exactly why we accepted you into our group,” said the particularly grotesque Aviary, who, despite his own misshapen facial features, still managed to sneer at Quentin as if Quentin were the most hideous thing he’d ever seen. “A mere guard, without a Board family background. Maybe you’ve forgotten but it’s your job to improve relations between us and the humans, a job you don’t seem too focused on.”
“How long before they revolt and start a new Board?” another Aviary asked. He pointed a clawed hand in Quentin’s direction. “You might be prettier than us, but that doesn’t mean the humans see you as anything other than a feathered freak like the rest of us.”
Panicked, high-pitched conversations and squawking soon filled the room, a dozen voices calling out a dozen opinions about how they should handle the scientists, the Aviary Blast, the Descendant and the humans. In the end, one suggestion rose above all others, quieting some Board members while causing others to echo the same suggestion. Quentin’s insides turned to stone. He hoped this idea would fade away with the rest. He wasn’t surprised when it didn’t.
“Yeah, let’s go to Him and ask how He thinks we should handle it,” a Board member said. “I mean, we’re so close to achieving what’s needed to bring Him back. . .”
“Him,” another Board member said, a cry that was echoed in succession by others around the table.
“I’m as excited as the rest of you for His return,” Quentin said, receiving several snickers of doubt in response. “But don’t the stories say only to wake Him when the Aviary Blast is perfected?”
When Quentin turned to Ms. Van Horn, he was relieved to see her nodding slowly, which in turn led to most Aviaries doing the same.
“Then I will concede to taking the Descendant’s bone marrow slowly, carefully, as long as the procedure is performed under the safest setting by the scientists,” Quentin said.
“Human lover,” snapped a Board member, with several others repeating the claim. But Ms. Van Horn shook her head and raised a hand.
“Quentin is right, as much as it pains me to admit,” she said.
“The task might be difficult to sell to Love,” Quentin said. “He’s already making it difficult to gain access to the Descendant, and I just found them poking around the restricted section.”
The Board gasped, the exact reaction Quentin expected. He knew what this would mean for Love and the Descendant, and though a part of him felt guilty about it, he knew this was the only way.
“Kill him then,” a Board member squawked maniacally.
“He’s too large and powerful anyway,” another agreed. “He’s never bought into our plans and has always been too sympathetic to humans.”
“And now too sympathetic to the Descendant,” Quentin agreed. He sensed Ms. Van Horn turning to him in surprise, but he avoided eye contact with her.
“We can’t let him have the control he demands!” another said.
“I understand, but he did remain loyal enough to find the Descendant and bring her to us,” Quentin said. “He’s given us this amazing chance to fulfill our destiny when he could’ve just as easily flown off with her and never returned.”
Quentin saw more than one face twisting in contemplation as his words sunk into the Aviaries’ warped minds. It wasn’t long before those looks of confusion faded and scowls returned.
“There’s no more Descendant for him to locate,” Ms. Van Horn said. “And nothing else for him to do. The longer he’s allowed to believe he controls the girl, the more powerful he’ll feel he’s become.”
“Kill him,” snapped an Aviary, the two words soon becoming a chant shared by all.
“And give that order to whom? The guards?” Quentin called out. “They’re already facing too much turmoil from invasions in the tunnels and hangar. Too many humans are nervous, which makes that a dangerous order to give right now. There must be another solution.”
A sudden knock at the door led to several surprised squawks. When the door swung open and a human guard rushed in, the Board collectively circled their leader, several snapping in the human’s direction. The guard’s panic turned to fear and he backed away so quickly he stumbled to the floor. He held up a walkie that crackled with the sound of excited voices.
“There’s something you need to know,” the guard reported.
“You bloody fool,” snapped one of the Aviaries. “How dare you interrupt a meeting of the Board!”
“Apologies, to all of you,” the human said, lowering his head. “But I’ve received word from our Head of Security. Miss Lamb is reporting another potential emergency.”
Walda Lamb stood on the ledge of the highest level of The Mountain, looking out across a snowy sky. She stayed far enough back from the edge to avoid looking over the side; she didn’t want the guards behind her to realize how frightened she was of heights. She normally avoided this area of The Mountain, but now she was back for the second time in hours. This time, the excitement of an approaching Descendant was gone, instead replaced with the nerve-racking uncertainty of whoever—or whatever—else might be out there.
She stared into the clouds propelled across the sky by racing winds, searching for the dots of movement her guards had called her up to see. The entire time she’d hurried to the top level, she’d hoped they’d been wrong, hoped the rush of today’s activity had caused them to see things that weren’t there. But when she finally spotted the two blurs of movement flying in The Mountain’s direction, she knew the excitement—and potentially the danger—was not over yet.
Turning her worry into anger, she raised the walkie-talkie to her mouth and pressed the TRANSMIT button again. “This is Wanda Lamb, Head of Security, calling yet again with a message for The Board. Did anyone reach them yet?”
“This is Quentin Bowie,” a voice finally answered. “What’s out there, Walda?”
“Two more figures in the sky, flying in our direction,” she reported. “But they aren’t moving the way Love does. I don’t think they’re one of us … um, I mean one of you, an Aviary, one that can fly I m
ean.”
“Understood,” Quentin said.
“I remember old stories from the Command Center that told about a fighting force surviving out in the world?” Walda said, glancing back to see nervous expressions on the faces of her guards. “The kinds of fighting forces that required our Mountain ancestors to build battlements outside. Could the Descendant have led them here? Or the other intruders?”
Walda stared at the walkie for nearly a minute, only glancing up to see the blurs in the sky getting closer. Just as she started to wonder if the walkie had malfunctioned, it crackled back to life.
“There’s only one way to combat them if they get too close,” Quentin said.
“Even if they mean us no harm?” Walda asked.
Before Quentin’s voice returned, Walda heard through the walkie a cacophony of loud squawking in the background.
“The Board doesn’t think we can take that risk,” Quentin answered.
“Are we going to send out the last functioning attack drones?” she asked.
Nearly another minute passed before Quentin came back with an answer.
“Actually,” he said, “we have an even better option.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Love and Emma passed several more guards while walking down another hallway, this one containing more doors than any other level they’d seen so far. A few whispered “Descendant” as they passed, but Love stood tall and looming beside Emma, his back bulging and feathers bristling. Emma wouldn’t have minded talking to the humans had it not been for Love puffing out his chest and intimidating anyone that got too close.
Love suddenly stopped at a door and opened it, stepping aside to let Emma pass. Inside, she found a simple room with a bed, a small table and an open closet with nothing inside. It wasn’t much different than the room in which she’d been housed in The Second, minus the window overlooking the green gardens.
And minus Chad, as well as everybody I ever knew in the City Below, Emma thought, a heavy rock seeming to settle in her stomach. In a matter of seconds, her mind filled with countless faces of people she’d never see again. Her eyes welled with tears. She tried to blink them away, but that only caused tears to streak down her face. Instinct told her to turn away from Love and hide her emotions, but she was too tired to care if he saw.
“Are you in pain?” he asked.
Emma forced a smile and shook her head. “Just tired, maybe more tired than I’ve ever been,” she said, staring longingly at the bed.
Love nodded. “Proper rest will do you well.”
Emma sat on the edge of the bed, placing both palms atop a softer mattress than she’d ever felt. She didn’t know why, but her tears came harder and faster. Love pretended not to notice, looking anywhere but in her direction. He finally grabbed the doorknob and slowly backed away.
“Wait,” Emma said, panicked.
“It’s okay,” Love assured her. “I made a promise to protect you and I intend to do that. I’ll stand guard outside while you sleep.”
Emma shook her head. “Don’t be silly,” she said, pointing to the chair beside her bed. “Stay here, please.”
Love chirped, though Emma didn’t know if he’d intended to or not. He closed the door and slowly crossed the room, watching Emma nervously as she lay back and closed her eyes. Though she felt a strong pull toward the blackness of sleep, Emma couldn’t help sensing Love’s anxiety.
“What are you thinking?” she asked with a yawn.
“You don’t belong here,” he whispered, leaning closer to her. “Neither of us do. I don’t trust anyone or anything that’s happening here.”
Emma forced her eyes open and rolled to her side, propping her head in her hand. It was strange to see Love trying to sit still. After a few seconds, Emma felt a sting in her arm and sat up, looking down at the small, bruised area in the crook of her elbow from which her blood had been taken.
“I don’t know everything that’s happened here to make the Aviary Blast,” Emma said. “But I do know the Blast is my only hope, that receiving an injection one day is my only hope. I have nobody left in this world and nowhere else to go.”
“You don’t understand,” Love said, shaking his head in frustration.
“You’re right, I don’t,” Emma said. Fatigue forced a sense of desperation into her voice. “But the Board seemed understanding of what’s happened to me, they seem willing to help—”
“They won’t help anyone but themselves,” Love snapped, causing Emma to recoil so suddenly that she nearly toppled off the opposite side of the bed.
Her eyes widened, the first time Love had seen fear from her, not even a look she’d given when he’d taken her from the Main Tunnel, not even a look she’d given when he’d caught her trying to escape in the tunnel beneath the ISU. Love didn’t know why, but Emma’s expression caused the wall around his heart to crumble. He soon found words spilling out of his mind and his mouth.
“I was an experiment to the Board, do you understand that? Not a person. . . not an Aviary. . . an experiment, no different than hundreds of others before and after me, except that I somehow managed to form into this,” Love said, flexing with such strength that his wings exploded out of his back. One of them smashed into the wall, chipping away a small piece of rock, while the other knocked over the small bedside table. Love calmed his breathing, but his wings remained extended. “My mother. . . what they did to her.”
“I. . . I’m sorry,” Emma whispered.
Love didn’t doubt Emma’s empathy, but she didn’t know the extent of his history, a story he’d never told anyone, not even the other ‘failed experiments’ he’d caught and saved and taken to their new home. He didn’t want to remember the past let alone retread it, but the way Emma looked at him made Love desperate to make her fully understand the situation in which they both found themselves. When he opened his mouth, a tiny chirp came out before he spoke of a subject he’d never before mentioned aloud.
“They cut her throat,” he said. “My host womb. . . my mother.”
“The Board?”
Love shook his head slowly. “But it happened under their authority, like every other atrocity that’s ever happened here. I don’t remember much about my mother; not what she looked like or what she sounded like, but I do remember how safe she made me feel, how loved she made me feel. I remember she would never take a bite of food we were given until I’d had my fill,” he said, the tension easing in his face, his eyes staring blankly into a past only he could see. His brow crinkled several seconds later. “But then it was my turn to be tested.”
“Tested?” Emma asked carefully, remaining on the opposite side of the bed.
“Flight tested,” he said bitterly. “The same as hundreds of kids before me and hundreds of kids after me. Tossed off the ledge to see if we could fly, even though none of the others ever could. My mother knew what was going to happen to me, she knew I would suffer the same fate as all the children she’d birthed before me. She tried to fight off our captors, she tried to distract them so I could escape.
“They killed her and threw her body over the side right before they tossed me over, too. For years after, I regretted that I bothered to flap my wings and fly, and that the first place I flew was down to the rocks where her body hit near the rest of the failed experiments. I regretted flying back and rejoining the same people that caused me such suffering. I hated myself as much as I hated them,” Love said.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumping as his wings slowly pulled back into his body. Emma inched closer, placing a hand on his back. Love twitched from her touch, the feathers on his neck standing on end, but quickly relaxed. Emma felt the strength of his back, the tips of her fingers tingling. She couldn’t tell if her lightheadedness came from the sudden swelling in her chest or from her recent loss of blood. Either way, she felt guilty having these feelings as Love relived the horrors of his past.
“You had to come back,” she said quietly. “You were just a boy,
and there was nothing out there in the world.” Love nodded. “I’m sorry you didn’t any other choice.”
“I’m not,” Love said, strength returning to his voice. He stood so suddenly that Emma nearly pitched forward off the bed. “The Board and guards don’t know this but once I was old enough and discovered more about the surrounding world, I didn’t always follow their orders, I didn’t always leave The Mountain for weeks at a time to search for the City Below and the Descendent. . . search for you.
“There’s a spot at ground level, a hiding spot just off to the side where the failed experiments would hit the rocks. When I hide there, I can look up and watch the kids tossed over that same ledge where we arrived,” Love said, his eyes widening. His head darted from side to side, moving quicker as he spoke more animatedly. “I started to catch them, to rescue them, right before they hit down, catch them in a spot that couldn’t be seen by anyone above. The evil guards in charge of the final stage of the awful experiments always assumed failure, that the kids hit the rocks. They didn’t know I saved them, at least as many as I could, that I took them to a place not far from here, where they’ve been allowed to grow up together, to develop into what they were meant to be, to love one another and protect one another. Some have even sprouted wings as they’ve gotten older. A few can even use those wings nearly as well as I can.”
He spun so suddenly that Emma recoiled again. As Love’s wings unfurled, his eyes blazed with determination. “We can go there, right now, you and me. The family I’ve made there, they’ll accept you and love you. It’s safe, and it’s far from the Board, far from their experiments. Just say the word and I’ll find us a way out of here.”
Though Emma smiled as she looked up, Love couldn’t ignore the sadness in her eyes. His wings sagged. He knew her response before she uttered a word.
“This place you speak of, wherever it is, it sounds wonderful. . . in a way. I’m glad you saved others like you, to make the outcomes of these experiments a little less terrible,” she said. “But I spent my life stuck in one place and I can’t do that again, no matter what it costs me. If there’s a chance I can fly far from here and find my own safe place, or any other place out in this world, that’s a risk I have to take.”