by Aaron Hodges
Chris swirled, his wings turning by what seemed to be a will of their own, and watched his friends plummet from the cluster of boulders. They dropped a dozen feet before their wings caught, halting their freefall and sending them hurtling back up into the sky. Broad grins split their faces, their eyes wild, their laughter echoing off the cliffs. In those briefest of moments, their hunters, their fears, all were forgotten. There was only the joy of flight.
But it could not last. An ache began in the center of Chris’s back, and already he could feel the strain in his chest and abdomen, the muscles pulling tight to keep his wings moving. With their broad expanse, there seemed to be no need for giant wingbeats, but even the incremental adjustments of feathers and muscle was draining him. Looking at the others, he could see the strain beginning to affect them as well.
The mist swirled, providing them some cover from the guards below, or at least he hoped.
Sucking in a breath, he shouted across to the others, his words barely audible over the thump of wingbeats. “We have to fly over the cliffs!”
He had been studying the cliffs as the others gathered around him. They still towered overhead, their peaks tantalizingly out of reach. With the swirling winds hindering them, it would take a massive effort to climb those last hundred feet. He looked again for the guards and found them near the base of the rubble. They were looking up the slope, but they still had not spotted their winged prey.
After all, who would have guessed they could fly?
Returning his attention to the cliffs, Chris willed himself upwards. Muscles strained across his back and chest, his feathers shifted, and with a surge of elation he rose several feet. The others followed him, their faces creased with concentration, their eyes fixed on the ledge above. It wasn’t far and still growing closer, but the winds were shifting, fighting against them. And as they neared the top, the raging waters grew closer, soaking them through, stealing away the last of their warmth.
Still they pressed on, their wings beating hard in the thin air. Water accumulated on their feathers, weighing them down. Chris’s stomach tightened as muscles he’d never used stretched and twisted, driving his wings forward, sending him upwards.
Bit by bit, the top of the cliffs drew closer.
When they were still thirty feet away, Chris risked a glance down, and swore.
The guards were looking up at them, hands pointing, their eyes wide and mouths hanging open. Already one was dropping to his knee; others quickly followed suit. Rifles lifted to shoulders and a gun barrel flashed. In the open air, the seven of them presented an easy target.
By a will of their own, Chris’s wings twisted, sending him whirling sideways, even as he screamed at the others.
“Look out!”
Suddenly the air was alive with the screech of bullets. The others scattered like a flock of doves, flying outwards in all directions, though they strained to keep rising, to reach the clifftops, and safety.
Every inch of his body screaming, Chris drove himself on. Threads of terror wrapped their way around him, but somehow he found the strength to hold on. His wings worked by instinct now, alive with desperation, driven by the need to escape.
Abruptly he found himself in clear air. One instant the whiz of bullets and howling wind was all around him, then it was gone. Looking down, he realized he had made it, that he had crossed the threshold of the cliffs. The canyon had disappeared from view, dropping away as he shot over the icy ground a few feet below, still tracking the stream upwards.
Glancing back, he watched Sam shoot up over the lip of the cliff and then dive towards the ground, quickly followed by Jasmine and Richard. They evened out about thirty feet from the ground and raced towards where Chris was coming to a stop. They wore broad grins on their faces, though their cheeks were red and their breath billowed in clouds of vapor.
Chris looked past them, holding his breath, waiting for Ashley and Liz and the girl.
They appeared one by one, Liz first, then the girl, and finally, rising laboriously into sight, Ashley. Liz and the girl swept down towards them, but Ashley was struggling to maintain her height. Her wings were barely moving now, and her face was turning purple. She hovered over the lip of the cliff, drifting slowly towards them, driven by sheer determination.
Her eyes closed with sudden relief as she reached the clear air. Straightening out, her wings spread wide to catch the gentler breeze. A smile warmed her face as she looked across at them.
Then her smile faltered, her eyes widening as a shot echoed up from below. A red stain flowered on her chest and blood sprayed the air. Without a sound, Ashley’s wings folded, and she plummeted to the icy ground.
40
Ashley lay in a tangled mess of limbs and feathers and wings, her flesh torn and broken, her face buried in snow. The only signs she lived came from the slow rise and fall of her back, the low gurgling from her chest. She coughed, half-rolling to reveal her battered face. Blood seeped from between her lips in a slow trickle, staining the snow beneath her.
She didn’t move as they raced to her side. Her eyes were closed, and there was little chance she could be conscious after the fall. Chris was shocked she was even alive—though he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing for her, or a curse. Her wings lay at awkward angles around her, and when he glanced at her legs he had to look away.
The bullet had taken her in the back and passed straight through her. Somehow it had missed her heart, but with the blood bubbling from her mouth, it appeared to have found a lung.
Another groan rattled from Ashley’s chest, tearing at Chris’s heart. He crossed the last few feet between them and crouched beside her. Tears built in his eyes, but angrily he wiped them away. He grasped Ashley’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Ashley,” he whispered as the others gathered around them. “Ashley, it’s okay, we’re here.”
Ashley. Brave, bold, elegant. When he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d thought her fragile, a sheltered city girl incapable of standing up for herself. She had put those misconceptions to rest with her first words. And time and time again since. She had proven herself stronger than any of them, her will unquenchable.
And now she lay here on the side of a mountain, her blood staining the frozen earth, and there was nothing any of them could do to help her.
She was dying.
Stones crunched as Sam crouched beside him, tears streaming down his face. Stretching out a tentative hand, he wiped the blood from Ashley’s lips, as though that simple act might wake her, might bring her back to them. A sob tore from his throat as a fresh bubble of blood rose between her lips and burst.
He reached for her, as though to draw her into his arms, and then stopped. He knelt there with one arm outstretched, torn between his desperation to help her, and the fear he would only hurt her further.
The others stood around in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Long minutes dragged by as they watched her struggle, her every breath a desperate battle. They had time to spare now, though in truth all thought of escape had vanished. On the snowy plateau, they sat by their friend and watched her life slipping away.
As minutes ticked towards an hour, Ashley still clung to life. Her body was torn and broken, her lifeblood staining the snow red, but still she breathed, still she fought on.
Finally, Chris knew they could wait no longer. Sucking in a breath, he stood. Tears stung his eyes as Liz joined him, sliding an arm beneath his shoulder. He looked at the others, saw the indecision in even Jasmine and Richard’s eyes. They could not stand here waiting for Ashley to die. And yet, they could not abandon her, could not let her last moments on this earth pass alone on this harsh mountainside.
He looked at the others, hating the question in their eyes. They wanted him to make a decision, though he was not sure when he’d become their leader. It felt strange, especially given Richard and Jasmine’s animosity. But there was no time to debate it now.
“We can carry her,” Chr
is whispered at last.
“No,” Sam croaked, surprising him. The young man looked up at Chris, his eyes red with tears, and shook his head. “No, you can’t bring her with you. She’ll only slow you down.”
“We can’t leave her,” Liz said.
Sam closed his eyes, a shudder going through him. “I know,” he breathed.
Chris stared at him, a tightness growing in his stomach. “What are you saying, Sam?”
“Go, Chris.” Resolve shone in Sam’s eyes now. “Go. Take the others with you. Leave, fly away from here, be free. I’ll look after her.” His voice broke as he finished, but there was steel in his words.
Looking at Sam, Chris wondered at the young man’s courage. He opened his mouth to argue, to convince his friend to come with them, that they could carry Ashley, could keep her comfortable until…
“Maybe they can save her…” Sam finished.
With those five words, Chris realized they would never change Sam’s mind. He meant to sacrifice himself for Ashley. He would give away his freedom, his life even, if there was the slightest chance she might live. Looking at her, Chris tried and failed to summon the same hope. Between the bullet and the fall, there was little left of the graceful girl he had known.
Yet still Ashley fought on, her iron will unyielding. Thinking of the miracles the facility had performed on them, he wondered if Sam might be right.
At last he nodded. In his arms, Liz began to tremble, but he pulled her tight before she could try to argue. She glanced at him, anger burning in her eyes, but he only shook his head.
This was Sam’s decision to make. His alone.
Jasmine and Richard shared a glance. Whatever their history with Ashley and Sam, Chris doubted they had ever wished for this. Perhaps they would even miss his light-hearted presence.
“Good luck, Sam,” Chris said, swallowing hard.
Sam nodded and then turned back to Ashley. With the utmost care, he slid his hands beneath her back and lifted her into his arms. She gave a tiny groan as she left the ground, seeming to shrink into Sam’s massive frame. Her head lifted, her eyelids fluttering, before she nestled into the crook of Sam’s arm and still once more.
Gently, Jasmine and Richard helped tuck the shattered mess of Ashley’s wings into Sam’s arms. Then they stood in silence as Sam moved back towards the cliffs. His copper wings slowly spread as he walked, his back straight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He did not look back as he reached the edge. Without hesitating, stepped out into open air.
They stood for a moment after he had disappeared, waiting for the gunfire, praying he would reach the ground safely. But they did not go to the edge. They did not watch.
Chris didn’t know about the others, but he could not bear to see Sam return to his chains.
Finally, Chris wiped away his tears and faced the others. They stood shivering in the cold mountain air, their eyes red, their faces pale. He could see the questions on their lips, but there was only one thing left for them to do now.
Fly.
41
The Chead paused in the doorway, momentarily blinded by the light streaming down from the infinite expanse stretching up above its head. Scraping noises came from behind it as the survivors of its pack shuffled forward, eager to take their first steps out into the world beyond.
They had fought hard, the Chead and its brethren. The men who’d stood against them had been feeble, weak creatures that broke easily. The first had died screaming as the Chead had rushed from their cages to tear them limb from limb. More death had followed as the nine Chead rampaged through the facility, eager for retribution against their tormentors.
Yet few of the hated white coats had fallen into their clutches, and eventually the humans had organized themselves, pinning the Chead and its brethren down with their foul weapons. The first of them had died, then another. Finally they had been forced to retreat, though the humans had not yet gathered the courage to follow.
The Chead smiled at the thought, its heart beginning to race. Its gaze swept the jagged earth rising up around the facility, the boulders and crevices offering them concealment. If the humans came after them, if they tried to hunt them down…
It paused as it caught the scent of humanity in the air. Turning, it stared up at the jagged slope above them. The grey and white of snow and rock appeared empty. There was no movement, no sign of life, and yet the Chead knew the humans were there, hidden somewhere in the twisting cliffs. It licked its lips, laughter building in its chest.
The other Chead gathered nearby, their grey eyes intent on the cliffs, their ears twitching at the distant clacking of stones shifting beneath human feet. Smiles crossed their lips as they looked to their leader, awaiting his decision.
The Chead was about to lift its hand, when it scented something else. It paused, breathing it in, tasting the strange sweetness to it, familiar, and yet unmistakably different from the feeble humans. The others stirred, impatient for the hunt, for the kill.
Still, their leader hesitated. Memories stirred as it recalled the strange creatures it had fought so many weeks ago. It frowned, seeing again the battle, the desperation of its foes as they sought to fight back. Their defiance had driven the Chead into a familiar fury, one which no enemy could hope to survive.
Yet the strange creatures had lived. They had not been Chead, but together the boy and girl had possessed a strength far beyond their human captors. Together, they had defeated it.
The Chead shivered, just the memory threatening to ignite its fury. It drew in a long breath of the icy air, seeking calm. The jagged earth up around them promised freedom, if only they kept their minds. It could not afford to surrender to the rage now, not when they were so close.
Distantly, the Chead recalled what had come next. The traitor in the white coat had demanded the Chead’s death, had tortured the strange creatures to force them to its will.
And they had refused.
The Chead’s ears twitched as a gunshot rang from the cliffs. More followed, echoing down the valley to where the Chead stood.
The hunt begins, the Chead thought as it watched the mountains.
The humans no longer seemed interested in the escaped Chead. They had found new prey. Glancing down the valley, the Chead contemplated the empty ground, the freedom it offered. Another boom drew its gaze back to the mountains. A distant scream whispered in its mind, as it saw again the boy standing in defiance of the traitor, and the girl writhing on the ground.
Letting out a long breath, the Chead started up the slope.
With a crunch of gravel, the others followed.
Part 5
Flight
42
One Week Later
Chris grabbed at the lip of the cliff and hauled himself over the edge. Rolling clear of the hundred-foot drop, he shivered as the icy air cut through the rips in his shirt. He grimaced at the angry red grazes on his bare hands and feet. The frozen rock had been merciless, unforgiving of the slightest mistake. But with the wind howling around the mountain peak, he’d had little choice but to make the climb.
A dull ache started in the base of his skull as he settled down on the rocky escarpment and looked back over the valley he and his friends had just traversed. Beyond his desolate perch, the mountains stretched up around him, their ice-capped peaks vanishing into the swirling clouds. Cliffs peeked out from the snowy blanket, their rocky faces pockmarked and broken, while in the valley below, shattered rock lay embedded in the barren earth. A frozen stream carved its way through the valley, its crystal surface as clear as day from Chris’s vantage point far above. The wind screeched as it raced between the peaks, and the mountains echoed with the distant rumble of falling snow. Every so often he would hear a sharp crack and flinch, expecting bullets to follow—but it was only the sound of breaking rock or ice.
Chris sat for a long time watching the valley, checking for signs of their pursuers. Amidst the broken rocks of the peak, he would be all but invisible to anyone below, but
even so he felt exposed on the escarpment. He suppressed a shudder, imagining a black-garbed huntsman staring down the barrel of a rifle, lining him up, pulling the trigger.
Closing his eyes, Chris took a breath and shoved his fear aside. He couldn’t afford the luxury of panic now—none of them could. Somewhere out in these mountains, Doctor Halt and his people were hunting them. And Halt had already shown he would do whatever it took to stop them.
Tears burned Chris’s eyes as he remembered Ashley falling, saw again her blood spraying the air and her broken body crumpling to the rocks. And Sam, lifting her into his arms, carrying her back to the torment they had just escaped—on the impossible hope she might be saved.
Angrily, Chris reached up and wiped away the tears before they turned to ice. Allowing his vision to clear, he cast one last look out over the valley. But there was no sign of movement, no hint of life amidst the desolate mountains, and nodding to himself, he slid backwards out of the wind.
Retreating to the cliff he had just climbed, he lowered himself over the edge and began his descent. A hundred feet below, the others would be watching him from their ledge, but he did not look down. After the week-long flight through the mountains, his chest and abdomen ached constantly. A sharp pain prickled the small of his back when he inhaled; it was almost a relief to use his arms and legs for a change.
His strength was flagging, starved away by the sparse meals of moss and thistles they’d resorted to eating in their desperation. Only once in the last week had they eaten well—when Richard had spotted a fish trapped in a frozen pool. The ice had been difficult to break, and they had eaten it raw, but at least it had given them the strength to continue another day.
Since escaping the facility, Chris and his friends had travelled west—as far as they could tell. They had been climbing higher into the mountains, up long gorges and narrow passes, until now, finally, they seemed to have reached the peak. Below, a new valley sloped down to the west, its floor falling gently as it wound its way through the mountains. Beyond waited civilization, the wide expanses of the Western Allied States.
