by Kevin George
Although a few nervous guards turned to see what their companions would do, not a single man or woman budged.
“I believe the destiny for everyone in The Mountain should take precedence over just the Board,” Elias said with only a slight quiver in his voice. “The guards and humans have followed the Board, without question, for far too long. It’s time we all have an equal voice in how decisions will be made.”
Ms. Van Horn turned her head just slightly and nodded. The other Board members lined up beside her. Though not as large or intimidating as Love or Liv, the other Aviaries still stood a head taller than the largest guard. But the guards did not waver, every single man and woman raising his and her weapon, a few even stepping aside to allow the ‘prisoners’ to join their ranks. Ms. Van Horn’s brow furrowed, but she did not back away as she turned her eyes onto the masked guard.
“You’re supposed to be in charge now, Moretti,” she said. “You need to do as your father would’ve and get control of your pathetic humans.”
“They seem to be handling the situation exactly how it needs to be handled,” he said.
Despite the rising tension, Ms. Van Horn noted a change in not only Moretti’s attitude but also his tone of voice.
“Remove that mask,” Ms. Van Horn snapped. “Give me the respect of looking me face to face when you disobey a direct order and seal the fates of every human in The Mountain.”
Chad’s shoulders sagged. A fight—and, more likely, slaughter on both sides—seemed more and more inevitable. He didn’t know what his own death might mean for Emma.
“Isn’t there a way we can work together?” he called out to the Board and guards alike. “Emma’s well-being should be a priority for both of our sides.”
“Emma is how we refer to the Descendant now?” Ms. Van Horn asked.
“It should be,” cried a familiar voice from within the guards. Chad cringed at the sound of the voice and almost wanted to start a fight, if only to silence it. The guards allowed Prince Oliver to step forward. “That’s her name. She is kind and thoughtful and worthier of life than anyone else in this Lord-forsaken rock.”
Ms. Van Horn glared down at him. “How dare an outsider speak to us like that,” she spat before turning back to Chad. “If you or your guards hope to ever work with us, you will kill that prisoner immediately.”
Chad turned, knowing with a nod of his head, one of the guards would end Oliver’s life for good. A part of him wanted nothing more than for that happen, but the way the prince had come forward in defense of Emma made him sound different than before, humbler. And now I’m the one wearing the mask, not him, Chad thought. Before Chad could respond one way or another, Liv screeched and flapped her wings, knocking back several guards.
“He is my son!”
“And Emma is my wife,” Oliver yelled. “I won’t let you harm her any worse than you already have.”
Chad turned to the prince, slowly shaking his head. “That can’t be,” he said, though Oliver couldn’t hear him over the sound of threats being lobbed back and forth between the two groups.
Both sides inched toward each other. Ms. Van Horn yelled that the humans were about to do something they’d all regret. But Chad couldn’t take his eyes away from Oliver, at least not until he looked at the lab door and felt an overwhelming desire to head inside and protect Emma from all this insanity, to rescue her and take her far away from The Mountain and toward a life they’d once dreamed about together. But he knew that was no longer possible, not if he died because of Oliver’s big mouth.
Chad snatched a gun from the hands of a nearby guard and slowly turned it toward the prince, hearing Ms. Van Horn’s shrieking orders to kill him. But Chad couldn’t pull the trigger and immediately lowered the weapon.
“Enough of this!” Ms. Van Horn yelled.
The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Chad heard a shriek and massive thump of flapping wings before seeing Ms. Van Horn reach into an unseen pocket and pull out a gun. Certain she meant it for him, Chad froze, never once considering using his own weapon. But the Board’s leader kept her eyes aimed on Oliver the entire time, raising the gun as cries from both sides filled the hallway. Chad saw the flash of the muzzle before hearing the pop of the gun; in his periphery, he also saw a blur of movement speeding in their direction. The thud of a bullet striking flesh was immediately followed by a scream of terror that silenced both sides.
Liv’s wings stopped flapping the moment she’d shielded her son, her body dropping to the floor, a small red hole in the center of her chest, which heaved one or two times before stopping, her eyes going wide. Oliver slid to the floor beside her. A smile crossed Liv’s lips as the tip of her wing reached for his face, coming up inches short before falling limply. . .
Chad expected a hail of bullets to fly toward Ms. Van Horn and the Board, but silence hung over the hallway, except, of course, for Oliver’s sobbed muttering of the word ‘no’ over and over. Ms. Van Horn turned her gun toward the other guards, all of whom lowered their weapons.
“Consider that a warning to the rest of you,” she told them. “Now, everyone get out of our way.”
Olly stood and started to rush at the Board, who snapped and hissed, ready to tear him limb from limb. For a moment, Chad considered letting that happen, considered letting the Sky People rip apart his biggest enemy in life. But as soon as Oliver brushed past him, Chad lashed out, swinging the butt of his gun toward the prince, metal smashing against skull. Oliver fell as hard as his mother had, though he was only unconscious as he thudded against the rocky floor.
Chad stepped between both groups. “Can’t we all agree that everyone in The Mountain needs each other to survive?”
As the two sides exchanged glances, peace appeared to be on the verge of settling within the hallway. But Chad no sooner exhaled deeply when one Board member—followed by another and another—stepped forward and hissed.
“Step out of the way or die!” one of the Aviaries yelled.
The guards raised their weapons and stepped forward in unison, bumping Chad from behind, pushing him closer to Ms. Van Horn and the rest of the Board, which gave no indication of backing down. During the jostling, Chad lurched forward, his mask knocked off his head and clattering to the floor. He considered lunging for it but didn’t want to incite a violent response from the Aviaries. When he turned to the guards, he was worried Elias or the other humans might recognize that he wasn’t the real Damon Moretti. But he barely received a second glance and when he did, he saw not a single look that showed any sign of suspicion, only worry.
A fight to the death appeared inevitable, but the first strike was never launched before a massive thwup echoed from far beyond the Board, a slight breeze reaching Aviaries and guards moments later.
“Everyone stop!” cried a booming voice.
All eyes turned toward the large blur of an Aviary speeding down the hallway, pulling up just short of the Board, landing on two hooked feet with a deep thud. Quentin Bowie was larger than he’d ever been, towering over every member of the Board, his shoulders twice as wide as any of theirs, his perfectly-formed wings stretching from one side of the hallway to the other. Nobody needed to ask how he’d gone through such a drastic change.
“I never should’ve trusted you,” Ms. Van Horn said. “You’ve never been loyal to the Board, and you’ve never been loyal to the humans you were charged with representing. The only person you’ve ever been loyal to has been yourself.”
Quentin Bowie smirked, showing a mouthful of teeth that were sharper—and potentially deadlier—than ever. He unleashed a squawk so powerful that every Board member instinctively recoiled, none more so than Ms. Van Horn. She nearly tripped over her own two hooked feet. The look of fear on her face was fleeting, though, immediately replaced with anger. She began to raise the gun in her clawed fingers but barely budged before another heavy flap filled the hall. Gasps and excited whispers soon followed. Quentin turned and cleared the way for another burly Aviary
to speed toward them, the newcomer landing with a thud beside Quentin.
“Quentin is loyal to me, as the rest of you should be.”
The new Aviary was no larger than Quentin or Liv, but his face was covered with as many wrinkles as feathers and the silver feathers atop his head were joined by long, flowing white hair. He was clearly older than everyone else, but even Chad noticed something majestic about the newcomer, and that was before he heard gasps from the humans and chirps from the Aviaries, whispers of the words He and Him coming from both groups.
Quentin fell to his knees first, lowering his head in deference. Elias kneeled next, the guards and Board following suit, until Chad and Ms. Van Horn remained two of the last individuals still upright. Not wanting to receive any unnecessary attention—and not wanting to appear suspicious as the only guard still standing—Chad lowered to his knees, dropping his head while keeping his eyes up.
“You’ve returned,” Ms. Van Horn said.
The new Aviary eyed her closely, slowly walking around her without responding. Once He was close enough for his wings to brush against her, Ms. Van Horn collapsed to the floor, sobbing.
“I always knew we’d bring you back,” she cried.
“No,” He said. “It was Quentin who brought me back.”
Ms. Van Horn glared toward the other large Aviary, but He was more interested in the two Aviaries and one teenage girl not kneeling. Love stared at Him, his eyes wide but forehead creased with confusion.
“You do exist,” Love said.
Carli stepped forward hesitantly, glancing around at the kneeling guards and Board before looking up at Him.
“Do you know about future plans with the other survival arks?” Carli asked.
He glared down at the girl, noting the obvious difference between her and The Mountain’s human inhabitants.
“The original members of the Board never wanted anything to do with other survival stations. It was deemed that only those within The Mountain were worthy of surviving and thriving in our new world,” He said. “Quentin tells me that few humans are left on this icy planet, so I see our original Board must’ve been correct about what would happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Billy said from a kneeling position nearby. “But how can you presume to know the wishes of One Corp.’s original Board?”
Quentin glanced at the young scientist and squawked. “Because He was the founder and leader of One Corp.’s original Board,” Quentin snapped. “And now He has returned to lead us back to prominence.”
“Who are you?” Carli asked breathlessly.
He stepped toward the young lady and spread his wings, his feathers rippling as he puffed his chest. He rolled his neck from side to side, his white hair cascading over his broad shoulders.
“My name is Martin LeRoque,” He said. “And I’m in charge now.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Carli frowned. “But in all the stories I’ve heard about One Corp., their true leader was named—”
“Enough!” Martin LeRoque roared, his booming voice momentarily cracking into a high-pitched shriek. “I had peaceful intentions upon construction of The Mountain, but I’ve always known outsiders shared no such feelings, which is why I’m glad that generations of Board and guard alike kept away newcomers.”
Martin walked among the guards, most of whom kept their heads bowed. He frowned at the sight of Liv’s body, not to mention the scar-faced young man still draped unconscious across Liv’s limp wing. Martin’s eyes then found Love and BabyDoll, and finally ended up back on Carli.
“I know your lives have been threatened and for that, I apologize,” Martin said. “My loyal followers have merely done as I ordered in the past. But I’ve returned to show them—and more importantly the four of you—that a touch of mercy can be as important as protecting your own kind.
“Everyone, rise,” Martin said. Without hesitation, guards and Aviaries stood, all of them staring at Martin with matching expressions of awe (except for Ms. Van Horn, who couldn’t suppress a glare when her eyes lingered on Quentin). “Van Horn?”
She turned to Martin and nodded. Martin’s eyes squinted, staring at her with deep concentration before a smile crossed his lips.
“Yes, I can see my old friend in you,” he said. “Your ancestor was trustworthy, and I hope you’ll be the same.”
“Of course,” she said, lowering her head.
“Good,” Martin said. “Then I’ll trust you to lead the Board and guards in taking these outsiders to the hangar, where you will allow them to walk freely out of our facility.” Martin turned to address the humans. “Any guard who would like to be free may also go.”
With Martin’s orders given, Chad found himself lost in the shuffle of other guards. He felt more at ease knowing Ms. Van Horn and the rest of the Board were heading away from Emma’s lab. A few of them dragged Liv’s body away, a few others dragging Olly. Love squawked for the Descendant but allowed BabyDoll to pull him along with the rest of the crowd. Carli called out that she would never survive the outside world—that the people aboard the HASS stations would not survive much longer without The Mountain’s help—but Martin LeRoque either didn’t hear her or didn’t care. Chad saddled up beside her and whispered that she needed to stay close to him, that he would help when the moment was right. Chad didn’t notice Carli’s look of confusion about why a Mountain guard would want to keep her safe.
“You,” Quentin snapped at Billy as the young scientist followed the crowd. “Stay.”
Billy did as he was told, offering no more than a single nod of understanding. His skin was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes opened wide but not seeming to look at anything at all. Quentin worried that the creator of perfected Aviary Blast had somehow gotten hurt during the skirmish, but a quick inspection of Billy showed no visible signs of injury. Neither could know the mental trauma he’d endured before the Board had brought him here; neither could know the screams he still heard in his mind, the sounds of ripping flesh and gurgled breathing as his brother had been torn to pieces.
“You’re certain he’s the one that can make the Blast?” Martin asked.
Quentin reached out and grabbed Billy’s arm, shoving him toward the lab. Quentin nodded, and together the three of them pushed through the door and entered the lab, finding Will standing near the metallic table where Emma remained strapped in place. Will wanted to rush to his son—especially when he saw the look of shock on Billy’s face—but the old man’s feet felt frozen in place as he stared at the two massive Aviaries. Will could hardly believe one of them had been the weakened, deformed Board member he’d dealt with earlier.
Martin approached the Descendant and squawked at the older scientist, who wisely backed away. Emma stared up at him, wide-eyed, fear barely letting her take a deep breath let alone speak or beg to be released. Martin wouldn’t have heeded her pleas even if she’d given them. He lowered his pointy nose toward her face, huffing his hot breath against her cheek, his chirping no louder than a light coo.
“She is one of them, an heir of Jonas?” he asked.
“She is,” Quentin said.
“And using her bone marrow created the difference between what you and I have become, and what the rest of the Board looks like?”
“Yes.”
Martin stood tall and looked toward the scientists. “Drain her, all of the marrow,” he ordered them. “Create as many doses of Blast that you can and give them directly to me.”
Emma finally caught her breath enough to moan. She no sooner begged for her life than Martin smothered her face with his wing. She wriggled as much as the straps would allow, opening her mouth to suck for air but only inhaling a mouthful of feathers. As she felt her life fading away, Will’s muffled voice somehow reached her ears.
“If she dies, her marrow will become useless,” the older man said.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Martin said, pressing his wing tighter against Emma’s face.
Panic set in
and she no longer felt the agony of the straps digging into her flesh. She no longer felt much at all, as her body settled and warmth spread through her, threatening to pull her away from this cruel world forever. Will’s next words sounded so distant that Emma was certain they’d be the last she’d ever hear. . .
“It might be bad,” Will said, “if the effects of our newest version of Aviary Blast aren’t permanent.”
Martin removed his wing from Emma’s face. She launched into a coughing fit so harsh that she barely heard the edge in Martin’s voice.
“Not permanent?” he asked, turning toward Quentin. “You never mentioned this possibility?”
“Because I knew nothing of it,” Quentin said.
Will stared at the former guard turned Board member turned super Aviary, waiting for him to oppose such a notion of the Blast’s effects wearing off. But instead of disagreeing, Quentin frowned, appeared to give it some thought and eventually nodded.
“But yes, I suppose that could make sense, especially since there’s been no long-term testing of this version,” he said.
“A detail you failed to share with me,” Martin said, his eyes narrowing on Quentin before he turned his attention back to Emma. “Nevertheless, ensuring a final supply of Aviary—and ensuring our ability to keep it for ourselves—would allow us to not only maintain control of The Mountain, but venture into the world without fear of others claiming power in our absence.”
“I understand your desire to prevent the Board from being blessed with the opportunity to become as powerful as us,” Quentin said.
Martin snorted, his thin lips pulling back tightly over his sharpened teeth. “Us,” he whispered with the utmost derision, only speaking loudly enough for Emma to hear.
“Ms. Van Horn and the Board—current members and, as I understand, previous generations—have proven to be untrustworthy of power; cruel and heartless toward those they should’ve been focused on protecting,” Quentin said. “But the humans inside The Mountain, their entire existence has been about following orders. They’ve been raised doing the Board’s bidding, not because they’ve wanted to, but because they were always told the Board was doing everything in its power to bring you back.”