The Phoenix Project: Book I: Flight

by Katherine Macdonald

  Mi squeezes my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I'll tell you later.”

  I'll have to tell him and Abi about Adam sooner or later. They need to know that we could be in danger, but right now, there's no time for this. There’s another person waiting. Rudy. To say he looks angry is an understatement. His glare is explosive.

  “You five,” he booms, “my study. Now.”

  I shuffle off the hands still clinging me and dutifully follow Nick and Scarlet from the hangar. Jameson hangs back briefly, attaching a ramp to the side of the van to let Harris out. We all slow our gait a little to allow them to catch up.

  The other members let us pass like coffins at a funeral. They are utterly mute, and when the door closed behind us, it is with a resolute thud.

  “How dare you,” he seethes, not looking at any of us. “This mission was of utmost importance. You risked everything –everything– by sending out this complete rookie! The entirety of Luca was in uproar–”

  “They were going to be in uproar anyway, after seeing that video,” offers Nick. “Don’t try to–”

  “Don’t you dare make excuses–”

  “The mission would have been a complete failure if we hadn’t switched in Ashe–”

  “It was barely a success as it was! And don't think I don't know that you stayed behind against warnings. You put your own life on the line–”

  “I would have done the same if–”

  “Don't be a liar as well as a fool. You would have followed orders, but for some inexplicable reason you seem to–”

  “Stop,” I say. “You don't need to yell at them.”

  “Are you taking the blame?”

  “No, I think you're a giant ass, but on this point, I happen to agree with you. I shouldn't have gone. I failed.”

  “Is this... an apology?”

  “No, it's a resignation.” I announce, avoiding Nick's eyes. “You won't need to worry about me not following your orders any more, or anyone risking their lives for me. Because I'm done.”

  I turn to leave the room, but I've barely crossed the threshold before Nick's arm reaches out to stop me. “Ashe–”

  “I'm sorry. I know you think I'm some great saviour or superhero, but I'm not. I'm really not. I'm just a girl trying to get by. I'm not cut out for this. I'm not made for this–”

  “Says who?”

  “Me. And since I'm the one making the decisions in that regard, I get to choose. I choose a quiet uncomplicated life, just the five of us!”

  Nick frowns. “Five?”

  Gabe. It's been half a decade, and still –still– I sometimes forget to say four. He creeps back in before I can stop myself.

  Gabe would never have been this foolish. Gabe would never had put our safety at risk.

  “Please,” Nick pleads, “just... think it over. Don't... don't make any decisions now. Go home, rest–”

  “I don't need to sleep to know I can't do this!”

  Rudy comes up behind him. “Let her go, boy, it's clear she's not cut out for this.” His eyes bore into me. “So much for making them pay.”

  “You got your video out,” I spit. “I'm not willing to pay any more.”

  I turn on my heels and march down the corridor. Somewhere along the line, the others start to follow me, asking questions I cannot answer. We walk silently all the way home, right up to my door, which I slam behind me and then run straight under the covers. The others whisper outside –a pointless action when you consider how great our hearing is– until I bark at them to stop. I bury my face in my pillow, and pray for the sweet release of sleep.

  Chapter 26

  I do not come out of my room for over a day, spurning all offers of company. Occasionally, Mi brings me offerings of food, which I pick at a bit or toss out of the window, just to convince him I'm not starving. I try to sleep, but I mostly fail. Adam's form is pasted onto the back of my eyelids, and Gabe's disapproving face haunts every dream.

  Do you know what Gabe's last words to me were? He said, “Keep them safe. Keep yourself, safe.”

  I failed him. I failed myself.

  At one point, I get out everything that I own and pile it onto my bed. It doesn't take up a great deal of space. The half that isn't weapons is composed of a few changes of clothes, a couple of notebooks, three pens, a rather unused hairbrush, a few hair ties, a necklace Ben made me out of nutshells, a thick wad of his drawings and cards, some little sculpture things from Abi, emergency food rations, blankets...

  I could pack up everything in a matter of minutes, and so much of what I own is to do with surviving that it barely counts as a personal item at all. I feel a strange sense of... sadness? Regret? Is this all there is to my life?

  There's the furniture, too, I suppose, each item with a story of where it came from. Taken from other abandoned buildings, salvaged from the scrap heap... and almost every piece lovingly restored by Abi in some way. I may not care about them, but she does. She's poured a little piece of herself into every part of this place.

  When I do come out of my room, it's only because I know I have to talk to Abi and Mi. I wait until long after Ben is in bed, before creeping out, depositing myself in the rickety chair opposite them, and announcing that I saw Adam at the hotel.

  They both go very pale and silent for a while.

  “Are you sure–” starts Mi.

  “Positive. He recognised me, and we fought.”

  “What did he say?” asks Abi nervously.

  “That I shouldn't have left and that he wanted to take me back.”

  “He's... he's still with the Institute then?”

  “Yes,” I reply stonily, “and proud of it.”

  They both fall mute in sickening silence, no doubt both thinking the same thing I was: who would we be if we hadn't escaped?

  “It also looks like the Institute is working with the government,” I continue. “The Director was there. He did a speech.”

  “What... what does that mean?”

  “I don't know. But... it probably means we aren't safe here.”

  More silence follows.

  “Do... do you think we should run?” I ask carefully. “Head to the woods, or the next big city? We could make it–”

  “This is our home–” starts Mi.

  “We're home,” I insist. “Wherever you three are is where I belong. Cities and walls and things mean nothing to me.”

  “They mean something to me,” insists Mi. “And you might not care about anyone but the three of us, but I do.”

  I swallow, the pain in his face palpable. “I know you're angry at me. This is my fault–”

  “It's not that. It's not that simple. I just don't want to run–”

  “And we don't have to,” Abi interjects finally. “I've run the numbers. I calculate that we will be five percent safer running. I don't think we should abandon our home based on five percent.”

  “Five percent?” I query. “That seems very low.”

  “When you take into account natural disasters, wildlife, chance of injury, chance of the Institute having sway in another town, the upcoming winter season leading to frostbite and/or starvation...”

  “You make a compelling argument.”

  I drop the idea, because the truth is, I want to believe her. I don't want to quit the city. The loft may be leaky, the windows may be more tape than glass at this point, but it’s ours, and it means so much to the three of them. And it doesn't mean nothing to me, not really. It just means so much less to me than their lives.

  There's also... there's also Nick to consider. He's crossed my thoughts many times since we abruptly parted ways. Is that the last memory of him I want? What do I want? Can I really conceive any future between us?

  I think back to the night in the hotel, the warmth of his body pressing through the sheets between us. I want something, certainly.

  “Um... is... is Ashe blushing?” Mi's brow wrinkles.

  “You know? I do believe she is!”
/>   “W-what?” I stammer. “You can't– how can you tell?”

  “Increase in temperature, awkward silence, sudden increase in heart rate...”

  “What did you and Nick do,” Abi smirks, “alone in that hotel room for hours?”

  My cheeks get even hotter. “We... talked.”

  “Oh,” she says, a little disappointedly, “Is that all?”

  There wasn't any 'is that all?' about it. It felt more intense, more intimate, than anything that had happened to me for a long, long time. I mean, I grew up with another boy's voice in my head, and yet sharing all that with Nick felt far more personal, far more freeing. Perhaps because I had to share it. It wasn't a thing accidentally given.

  What is it about that boy, that makes me unravel? And why do I want to let him tug at those strings?

  “It doesn't matter,” I say shortly, standing up. “I'm not going back there.”

  I march to my room without another look at them, knowing they're not done talking about this. I close the door and block it out. I focus my ears on the engines roaring in the distance, and pretend it's something far more pleasant.

  Chapter 27

  The next morning, I go hunting, more for the silence than any need or desire. I head deep into the wilderness, until all traces of road or path have long since faded, and bush and bough grow so thick and fast that only the merest trickles of sunlight can reach me. I lie down in the damp earth and fixate on any fragment of sound I find appealing. I am miles away from anyone. No residue of the city can taint me here. I span my senses out over hillocks and trees, the grassy knolls and winding streams. I focus on tiny things: the trickle of water, the smell of leaves and chestnuts, a rabbit digging beneath the earth.

  I wish I could be a rabbit, stowed safely under the earth with the rest of my little colony. But then, a rabbit is not safe outside the warren, and it must eat. Perhaps I better be an eagle, majestic lord of the skies, feared by all, food to none. The world must be very different from way up there.

  Eagles must be very lonely though, and I would not call their nests a home.

  I catch a couple of wild birds and head back to the loft. I'm in no mood for the market, so I string them up and leave them for Mi to deal with, whenever he gets back. I didn't speak to him and Abi about whether or not they were continuing at Phoenix HQ without me. It's no business of mine, but I probably haven't made things easy for them if they are.

  Ben comes back mid-afternoon, but I'm in no mood for chatter. I hear him racing up the stairs, stopping shortly outside my room. He raps on the door excitedly.

  “Ashe, I made you a card! It's not a 'get well' card, since you're not sick. It's a 'get happy' card! Are you awake?”

  I do not reply.

  “I'll just post it under your door. Hope you get happy again soon!” He skips off to his alcove.

  I should go out and speak to him, or hug him, or do anything with him, but every time I see his little face I am reminded of what I risked to pull that stupid stunt. What I still risk, just by sticking in this place.

  I can't let him suffer for my mistakes. I can't. But what if I don't have the power to protect him?

  For two more days, I am a ghost. I barely speak, I barely eat, I flitter from room to room and place to place with the energy and volume of a whisper. It gets to the point where I wonder if I'll just remain this way forever, living between life and death until the Institute finds me and my choice on the matter is surrendered.

  I mull on my options. I rarely doubt Abi's guidance, but we did not consider every possibility. It would, I'm sure, be safer to move to Phoenix HQ. I will not go, but if our enemies come knocking, they will find only me. They have no reason to suspect the others have remained with me. They taught us to scatter in enemy territory to stand a better chance of escape. I would die before telling them otherwise.

  Of course, they could ask the locals. Or torture me. Everyone talks eventually. I might not have the option of death.

  Maybe these are things Abi has taken into account. Perhaps it would be better to listen to her and move on.

  Only... only move on to what? I cut my ties to Phoenix. What am I planning on doing next? Can you move on if you go backwards?

  Tired of my thoughts, I head up to the roof and let loose on the punch bag. I feel a little better for the exercise, productive, like the day hasn't been a complete waste. I'm so focused on my punches it takes me much longer to register a presence coming up the fire escape, footsteps that don't belong to any one in my family. I tighten my senses on their other sounds; the beat of their heart, their breathing–

  Nick.

  He emerges, nipped from the cold and slightly out of breath.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you. Not... not to convince you to come back, I promise. Just... just to see how you are.”

  “How did you... how did you know where I lived?”

  “I'm not stalking you, I promise. Your... Ben told me. He's been hanging about the base a lot. He's worried about you. He showed me a picture he's drawn of 'sad Ashe'. It was the saddest, most pathetic thing I've ever seen. I had to do something. He had these enormous, puppy-dog eyes–”

  “Yeah, that'll get you every time.”

  “He seems like a really sweet kid.”

  “He is. Doesn't get it from me. Or the Institute.”

  “Who, then?”

  “Mi, probably.”

  Nick goes quiet for a moment. “I know... I know most of your life really quite sucks,” he says eventually, “but you're lucky to have them.”

  “I know.”

  “I'd love to have a family. I've got Scarlet and Harris and Julia, and maybe a few others, but... it's not quite the same as always having someone, you know?”

  I nod, because I know even more than he is suggesting. Now would be the perfect time to tell him about Gabe. My other person, my other half. The other hand in the dark.

  “How... how are you?” Nick continues, before I can say anything. “I'm really happy every time I see one of your family at the base, because that means you're probably still here. I was worried you were going to run away.”

  “I've thought about it.”

  “Why didn't you?”

  “Abi said not to.”

  “Oh.”

  “Were you hoping there was another reason?”

  “Yes,” says Nick, unashamedly.

  “You're hoping I'll come back.”

  “Of course I'm hoping that.”

  “You said you just came to see how I was.”

  “I did. I meant it. I wasn't going to say anything–”

  “But you did.”

  “Does it occur to you that I might have entirely selfish reasons for wanting you to return?” He pauses. “I miss seeing you every day.”

  “You don't know me enough to miss me.”

  “But I want to. I really, really want to. And don't ask me again to tell you what I like about you, because I don't fully understand it yet myself, but you told me you felt the same.”

  “Feelings can change.”

  “So soon?”

  I have never changed my feelings on anything, not once. There is a permanence to every emotion, every person I've ever known. If I let Nick in, he won't be able to get out, and I like it and hate it at the same time. I want him here, I want him gone. His weight is a crutch, his weight is a burden.

  “If... if that's truly how you feel, of course I'll leave you alone.” He swallows, turning back towards the fire escape. His movements are minute; he wants me to stop him. I want to stop him, but surely it's safer this way?

  “I'm sorry I couldn't be your superhero,” I mumble instead of goodbye.

  “I'm really not sure that's what I was looking for,” he answers, not looking at me. “But whatever I was waiting for... you were it. The answer to the question I hadn't even asked.”

  I listen to every one of his footsteps as he heads back down the fi
re escape, and watch him until he fades completely out of my sight.

  Chapter 28

  The following night, Mi does not return. Abi tells me he went out with Julia in the afternoon, to visit the infirmary where the pax patients go. We're not worried about him catching anything, but we worry nonetheless. It is a long walk back, and even though Mi knows the streets better than our faces, there are those that would take advantage of his blindness. He can handle himself in a scrap, but in a large group... and there are other dangers, dangers we would all struggle to fight against.

  We eat a sombre meal, just the three of us, and Ben goes off to bed with a little grumbling. Abi and I go to sit on the roof, to see if we can spot him. We're just debating going to the infirmary directly when his form wanders into dim lamp light. We head back inside to wait for him. He comes in slowly, immediately taking off his shirt. There's blood on the cuffs. I can just make out the larger droplets in the darkness, but I can also smell it on him. The heavy, metallic odour clings to his skin. It must be even worse to his attuned senses.

  “Mi?” I whisper hesitantly.

  “Doctor Herb is dead,” he says shortly, dumping his shirt in a bucket and heading for the sink. “It... it wasn't an easy end.”

  “Oh Mi,” I exhale. I cannot imagine what that must be like, watching someone you care for die. Sometimes I am grateful for how quickly Gabe was lynched from me. Other times... other times I would give anything to have had a goodbye.

  But what would Mi have said to the Doc?

  “I thought about offering Julia some of my blood. It's supposed to be effective, right? At helping ease the symptoms? But... if I gave some to Doc, I'd have to help everyone. And there were so many... so I couldn't. I didn't.”

  “You couldn't have helped them all.”

  “I could have tried to.” He drops to the floor, in front of the counter, his forehead pressed against the cupboard door. “What use are we? What's the use of being this way if we can't help people?”

  My answer to this is not the one he wants to hear, because we shouldn't have to help people, especially at the cost of our own well-being. Why can't we just forget about the rest of the world? What do we owe it, anyway? It's never exactly been kind to us.