by Kevin George
“We’ll all probably die out here anyway,” Isaac muttered, a thought that didn’t appear to bother him.
But desperation and restlessness caused more Tunnelers to abandon the metal door and surge toward the Swarmers. Sensing impending trouble, Sally scurried in between the two groups, stumbling across the snow as the cold sapped control of her motor functions.
“You can’t begin to understand the pain and suffering these poor kids endured from being tossed over that ledge,” she snapped.
“Of course I understand, they never shut up about it,” James snapped back. “They held me hostage for months, and now their cowardice is going to cost all of us—you included—our lives.”
“Hostage?” Sally said. “They saved my life and yours from the human living in this Mountain. Now you blame them for not wanting to fly into certain doom?”
“Better that they live so all of us can die?” a Tunneler snapped.
“It doesn’t bother you. . .”—James began, speaking directly to Sally before stepping around her to face the Swarm—“. . . or any of you that your precious Sally will die unless you help?”
A Swarmer named Hunch squawked loudly and flexed his back, propelling him between the two groups. Hunch landed inches from James and Henry, causing them both to recoil and bump into their fellow humans. Hunch spread both of his wings, one of them fully formed, the other only partially so but still more functional than most of his brethren. Many in the Swarm were no taller than their human adversaries, especially since most weren’t older than teenagers and hadn’t finished growing. But Hunch was among the oldest and stood a head taller than any Tunneler, menacing enough to back them off for the time being, especially as he hissed and puffed his chest.
Sally reached a hand toward Hunch’s wing. She was proud he’d stuck up for the Swarm, but the two sides had nearly battled earlier, and this certainly wasn’t a good time to revisit hostilities. But it was Lump who shuffled forward, his wing still cradled around Paige, Mia and the baby. His presence alone calmed his fellow Swarmer.
“James right,” Lump said with a low-pitched caw. His eyes turned toward the clouds, his broad shoulders slumping. “Must do this. I do this, fly to clouds. Must save mothers.”
“Mothers,” Hunch echoed, the anger on his face melting as he peered skyward. “I go.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? It could be dangerous,” Sally said.
“He has no choice,” James snapped. “If someone doesn’t do something, we’ll all freeze to death.”
“I save mothers.” Hunch turned to the Swarm and to the Tunnelers surrounding them. “I save us all.”
Martha stepped between the uncle and nephew Jonas, bumping James as she went, and stopped in front of Hunch, bowing her head. “Thank you for your bravery, but we might not survive long enough for you to find your way through The Mountain complex to open this door. And if you were to be caught by the men that slaughtered our people. . . You look very strong, yes?”
Hunch nodded, crossing his arms over his chest for good measure. Martha smiled.
“I could tell,” she said, looking to the other Swarmers. “I can tell many of you are strong. We’re going to need you to be strong enough to fly each of us up to the ledge.”
The necks of Tunnelers and Swarmers alike suddenly craned, everyone staring up the sheer cliff wall not far from the alcove. The Swarm’s collective nervous squawking put them all in agreement about Martha’s plan, and more than one Aviary turned to Sally for guidance. Instinct told her to stick up for them—to tell them that they didn’t need to endanger themselves—but she felt her heart pumping harder and taking a deep breath was nearly impossible.
“She’s right,” Sally said, wiping tears from her eyes before they had a chance to freeze. “If we don’t get inside soon—either down here or up there—we’re not going to survive much longer.”
“Then I go,” Hunch said. “I carry person?”
Though Sally desperately wanted to get out of the cold by any means necessary, she didn’t trust the Swarm to be left alone with the Tunnelers. She was ashamed admitting to herself that she didn’t want to be the first one making such a flight or seeing if the ledge was clear of Mountain inhabitants. Before she could talk herself into volunteering, a Tunneler stepped forward with her hand raised.
“I’m smallest, besides the children, of course,” she said. “I’ll go.”
Martha looked to the woman and nodded. The Tunneler approached Hunch, lifting her arms as she turned her back to him.
“Like this?” she asked.
Hunch chirped an affirmative and hooked his arms tightly beneath hers, pulling the Tunneler close.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Sally asked.
“Hunch strong,” the Swarmer said, staring at the clouds with his wings spread. He turned to look into Sally’s eyes, his brow furrowed. “Hunch help.”
Sally nodded. With one powerful flap, Hunch and the Tunneler shot ten feet off the snowy ground, drawing ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the other humans. Subsequent flapping sent them higher and higher. Hunch’s body listed to the side of his smaller, malformed wing, but he remained strong and steady as he and the human soared. With each flap, the tension among the Swarm and Tunnelers eased, especially once Hunch reached the sheer cliff face that contained very few rocky protrusions to get in his way. But a sudden gust of wind caused squawks and frightened gasps alike, and those cries grew increasingly frantic as Hunch started to sway in the wind.
“He never should’ve gone,” Sally snapped, a blast of anger momentarily warming her from the inside out. “Especially carrying someone else.”
“Look, he’s steadying himself. The winds are dying down. They’ll be fine,” James said. When Sally shot him an annoyed glare, James frowned and looked toward the snow. “Do you think I like this any more than you do? We have no other choice, you know that. If this doesn’t work, we’ll all—”
His next words were interrupted by a gust so severe that it pushed several Tunnelers and Swarmers down to a knee. The wind whipped in such a frenzy—creating a vortex of dust-blown snow within the alcove—that everyone on the ground was forced to shield their eyes until it slowed down. Once they could see again, all eyes turned skyward, where Hunch and the woman were taken by the wind and hurled toward the rocky cliff. Not a single chirp or cry was made by the onlookers, who watched in silent horror as Hunch fought—and lost—the battle, his body slamming into the wall as he lost his grip on the woman.
A number of Tunnelers took off running but didn’t get more than a few feet across the snowy ground. The cliff face was several hundred yards away and nothing could’ve been done to save the woman. Nobody could turn away from the carnage of her body exploding against the rocks.
“The Sky Person dropped her!” a Tunneler screamed.
“She let go of him!” a Swarmer screeched back.
The two groups surged toward each other, ignoring Sally as she tried to stand in the middle and insist nobody was to blame. The only thing that stopped a fight was another surge of wind knocking many to the ground, as well as pushing Hunch into the cliff wall again. This time, his wings stopped flapping and his body went limp, his plunge met with harried squawks. A few frantic Swarmers flapped toward the rocks, but they had as little chance of reaching Hunch as the Tunnelers had of reaching their own.
Hunch’s body exploded into a red mess of feathers and gore. The Swarmers stopped and cawed low and long and mournful, while the Tunnelers joined their side, their sobs quiet and respectful. The winds died down and the snowfall eased, but temperatures remained deadly. Both groups came to the same unspoken realization. Humans and Aviaries alike stopped where they were and collapsed to the ground, many of them accepting whatever fate had to offer.
When the first Swarmer wrapped his wing around a human, both sides looked to one another to see if this would spark an argument. Nobody said a word. Soon, Swarmer and Tunneler stood and kneeled side by side, wings wrapped around those
that most needed warmth, everyone knowing this was only a part-time solution to a problem that would very likely destroy them all. If they needed any more proof of their peril, it was provided by the other vehicles dying one after another.
Sally pressed herself against Lump, who offered her a spot within his full wing. She shook her head, insisting he keep the children shielded. He still provided enough warmth to take the edge off her chill, but Sally knew few humans would survive the next hour.
“We’re in this together,” she called out between chattering teeth. “No matter what happens.”
“Together,” Lump echoed.
Isaac shrugged, ignoring Martha’s pleas to join her alongside one of the Swarmers. Henry and James Jonas continued trying to figure out how to survive, but everyone else remained silent, nobody bothering to bang on the hangar door or look toward the cloud-shrouded Mountain entrance. When a loud grinding noise suddenly interrupted the two groups’ shared silence, their eyes turned skyward, where nobody saw a thing except snowflakes, gray clouds and swatches of blue beyond the storm. Henry was first to look back and discover the answer.
“The door,” he exclaimed, his voice filled with as much fear as awe. “It’s opening!”
“They’re coming to kill us!” a Swarmer shrieked.
“They can’t do that if we fight together!” Sally yelled.
“Together!” Lump echoed.
The same sentiment was repeated by Henry and then James, Martha and then William, Swarmers and then Tunnelers. Both groups lined up side by side, Tunnelers with weapons in their shaky hands, Swarmers with hooked hands and sharpened beaks ready to lunge. Even Isaac joined the group, stepping to the front as if ready to offer himself as the first victim of whoever attacked. But once the door squealed to a stop and both groups looked inside, weapons and hands were lowered, Swarmer and Tunneler faces skewing in confusion. The hangar was massive and dimly lit; it also appeared to be empty.
“A trap?” Henry asked.
Sally shivered, uncertain if it was caused by the cold or by the thought of danger lingering within the hangar’s shadows. Regardless of potential danger inside, she knew staying outside would lead to death.
“One way to find out,” she said.
Sally marched forward, the Swarm not hesitating to follow, the Tunnelers a few steps behind them.
CHAPTER FORTY
Billy slowed his march, hoping he could blend into the crowd of guards following them, but a feathered, hooked hand grabbed him by the arm and pushed him forward. He bumped into another Board member, who immediately turned and snapped his sharpened mouth, hissing. Billy wanted to point out that the Board couldn’t hurt him—that doing so would prevent him from creating more doses of Aviary blast for them—but he knew reasoning was beyond the feathered beasts. Any one of them could snap and kill him at any moment. When Ms. Van Horn glanced back, Billy realized it was in his best interests to stay beside her, though her eyes narrowed every time they landed on him.
“Only a fool would give Quentin Bowie all three doses,” she said, shaking her head. “Are the two of you working together to betray us? Did he promise you something in return?”
Against his better judgement, Billy was unable to suppress a sigh. “This is the thanks I get for risking my life to hurry back to warn you? I was only following Quentin’s orders, which I was never told by you—or anyone else—not to do. Isn’t he supposed to be a representative for all of you?”
Ms. Van Horn turned her head just enough so Billy could see her glaring out of the corner of her eye. He wondered if he’d pushed his luck too far but thought he saw the hint of a grin lifting the side of her pursed lips.
“Quentin is supposed to be part of us,” she said.
“If you’ve lost control of one of your own, you can’t blame me for that.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Billy realized he’d gone too far. A pair of Board members turned and flapped their wings, propelling themselves toward him before he could dodge them. Billy barely managed to lift his arms, which the Aviaries grabbed hold of to slam him back against a wall. Billy’s eyes widened in fear. Ms. Van Horn turned and hissed, her face skewing into a level of grotesqueness to match the other Board members.
“Release him,” she said.
The Aviaries did as they were told, the moment they were told, immediately backing away. Ms. Van Horn flapped a single time, landing inches in front of Billy, preventing him from taking a step away from the wall. Her lips pulled back over her mouthful of twisted, sharpened teeth. Without warning, she grabbed his arm. Billy dared not fight her grip, even as her pointy fingers dug deeper into the flesh of his triceps.
“He’s right,” she said, turning her head just slightly so the others knew she was talking to them. “Trusting a human—even one we turned Aviary—was a mistake. We won’t make the mistake of trusting a human again.”
She pushed Billy down the hall, the Board flocking tightly around him, not allowing the young scientist more than a foot of personal space on any side.
“Where are we going?” Billy asked, almost afraid of the answer.
A Board member muttered about going to the Descendant, of the importance of draining her of as much marrow as possible.
“Waiting a few weeks between each marrow withdrawal might allow the girl to survive the long term,” Billy explained, his words meant mostly for Ms. Van Horn, who seemed to pay no attention. “That might allow us to create enough Aviary Blast for everyone in the—”
The Board member to his direct left suddenly squawked, his mouth snapping inches from Billy’s ear. He recoiled but bumped into another Aviary, who screeched and pushed him as well. Crazed shrieking engulfed the young scientist, high-pitched voices warning him to shut up, others threatening to destroy him. It wasn’t until they quieted down that Ms. Van Horn gave any indication she’d heard what was happening.
“We shall go to the Descendant in due time,” she said calmly. “There’s something more important to handle first to ensure the full cooperation of everyone in this process.”
She stopped in front of a door that looked like so many others throughout the facility, but Billy glanced around and realized there were no white walls, no improved lighting that had been prevalent in the floors containing the labs. Fear bloomed in his chest as he realized where he’d been brought.
“Do we really have time for this?” asked a Board member near the back of the pack, her question met with a sideways glance from Ms. Van Horn and threatening hisses from other Aviaries.
When Ms. Van Horn opened the door, Billy peered around his captors to see darkness within. He was immediately hit with a dank smell, strong enough to overpower the strangely pleasant feathery odor of those around him. Inside the room came gasps and frightened cries, several voices crying out for “no more injections.”
Ms. Van Horn nodded to the Board, several of whom rushed inside, their wings extended and fluttering, causing more panicked cries. Billy was pushed inside as well, where his eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness. He immediately spotted several dozen women of varying ages, all of them pale and squinting from the hallway light, black circles around their eyes, covered in rags hanging off their emaciated bodies. Billy saw the outline of another person that remained crouched in the shadowy corner.
“We have no more experiments. . . for now,” Ms. Van Horn announced. “However, we’re here to make an example out of a newcomer.”
At once, the women scurried to the shadowy corner of the room, leaving three people standing on their own. Billy’s breath caught in his throat, especially once a pair of Aviaries grabbed his sister’s arms and dragged her forward. Billy’s two younger brothers tried to rush forward, but their path was blocked by other Board members; the same happened to Billy, who quickly found his own arms held behind his back.
“Leave us alone,” Billy’s sister yelled.
The girl had grown up afraid of her own shadow, so her sudden outburst not only surprised Billy but also deligh
ted him. That delight was short-lived, as he wondered if showing deference to Ms. Van Horn and the Board might be the smarter tact. Which is exactly what I should’ve done the entire time, Billy realized, suddenly understanding that he was the reason they were standing in this room right now. He tried to raise his hands and step forward but wasn’t allowed to budge. This time, he didn’t try struggling against his captors.
“Take the other newcomer, the one we brought to you,” Billy’s sister said.
At once, the human women formed a wall in front of the other prisoner, several of them muttering about how he was ‘already hurt’ and had already ‘endured enough in life.’ Billy strained his eyes to see into the corner, though Ms. Van Horn did not look away from Billy’s three siblings.
“Please,” Billy said, panic rising in the back of his throat, causing his voice to crack, “you’ve made your point. I’ve done everything you asked, but I won’t question you from now on.”
Ms. Van Horn nodded. “You’re right, you won’t. And don’t worry, I would never hurt the girl. Her womb may have value one day if we’re forced to restart our experiments.”
Several of the women standing tall fell to their knees, shaking their heads. Ms. Van Horn finally turned to Billy, one side of her mouth curled up in the same half-smile she’d given him before. Billy shook his head, whispering the word ‘please,’ knowing his pleas would do nothing to dissuade her. He tried to fall to his knees to beg, but the two Board members gripped his arms tighter and held him upright.
But Ms. Van Horn’s eyes slowly moved to Billy’s two brothers. Billy looked at them both, seeing the fear and confusion on their faces. He had so much he wanted to tell them—so much he wanted to apologize for after a lifetime of battling them for his father’s appreciation—but no words came to mind. When Ms. Van Horn screeched, the remaining Board members flocked to Billy’s youngest brother, inundating the teenager in a frenzy of squawks, flying feathers and, eventually, a human scream that lasted only seconds before being replaced by gurgling and then silence.