by Josh Hayes
There. Her fingers brushed against the edge of the handle, feeling the cold metal. She grunted, trying to extend her arm further to get a grip, but it was no use: the handle was too far away.
In the cockpit her father was shouting, cursing at the pilot, threatening him. The pilot responded, but their voices were just background noise, she couldn't understand them. It didn't matter; she knew she needed to get rid of the smoke. Her father put his life at risk getting them free. She had to help him.
Before she knew she was doing it, Wendy unclipped her harness latch, almost falling out of her seat as the straps clattered apart. She caught herself, however, and reached for the handle. This time she found it with ease and yanked it back with both hands.
The thunderous blast of air pushed her back into her seat, the howling wind pummeling her senses. She had to squint against the torrent of wind, but as the smoke cleared she could see her sister and mother once again. Her mother still bounced limply in her seat, while her sister coughed and cried, both of their faces filthy.
Wendy took several large gasps, her throat still aching, but her lungs graciously gulped down the clean air. Smoke still seeped from a broken panel in the ceiling, but now instead of filling the cabin, the rushing wind sucked it right out.
Outside, buildings rushed by in a blur. They were taller and bigger than anything she'd ever seen before. The angle of the descent changed as the skiff pitched back, and the engines changed pitch. They were slowing down.
"Daddy?" she called, leaning around, trying to see him.
"It's okay, honey," her father called back. "It's going to be okay."
"Something's wrong with Mom. I'm scared."
"How long?" George Darling asked.
Wendy hesitated, not understanding, then realized her wasn't talking to her.
The pilot said, "There isn't any place to set down, can't you see that?"
Her father's pistol came back into view. "I'm not looking for a red-carpet invitation, damn it. Set us down in the middle of the fucking street for all I care, but put us on the ground."
"You're making a big mistake," the pilot said. "You have no idea what's going on here."
Her father jabbed the gun at him. "Just shut up and get us on the ground."
Individual buildings seemed to merge together until they were just a large mass of brick and glass. They passed several streets and alleys and vehicles she didn't recognize, people stopping and getting out and staring up at them.
"There," her father said, "put us down over there."
The cabin bucked sharply. She screamed as the skiff suddenly banked sideways. The world shifted around her and she began to slide from her seat.
Wendy screamed, frantically groping for one of the loose straps flapping around her. The skiff bucked again, throwing her into the air as panicked fingers closed around one of the metal buckles. Her legs slammed against the cabin's doorframe, feet dangling free in the cool air outside. Terror at the thought of being sucked out of the little craft flashed through her. She took hold of the buckle with both hands, fingers straining white, and pulled.
A loud gun blast echoed back through the cabin and her father shouted, "Level us out, now! Do it! Do it, now!"
Her fingers ached. The roaring wind clawed at her, trying to pull her out of the cabin. Shock overcame her as she felt her grip loosening. I'm going to die!
The skiff twisted again, coming back upright. Pain shot through her, the hard impact knocking the air from her lungs. Her fingers opened reflexively and the buckle slipped free from her fingers. She slid across the hard metal floor, coughing for breath, fingers clawing for purchase on the cold surface.
"Daddy," she tried to scream, but her words came out as no more than a hoarse whisper. She bumped into something hard. She looked up and saw her sister's face, streaked with tears, stained black from the smoke, looking down at her from her seat.
"Wendy, hold on!"
Hold on to what? Her mind raced.
The wind continued to roar, blowing her hair around. She glimpsed buildings flying past, and knew she wouldn't be able to hold on if the skiff turned on its side again. They held steady, however, engines whining as they descended through the air.
Gritting her teeth, Wendy pulled herself up into the seat next to Maggie and quickly strapped herself in. When the final latch clicked she let out a long breath, relieved.
"…a stunt like that again and I'll kill you," her father shouted. "I swear I will. Get us on the goddamn ground right now. Wendy, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think so," Wendy said after taking a breath.
"They're going to kill you, you know that, don't you?" the pilot shouted. "They'll find you and they'll kill you. They'll kill me for helping you."
Wendy glanced out through the window. They were maybe a hundred feet off the ground now. She could see people on the street, all staring up at them as they flew by.
"No more talking, just land."
The skiff angled up again, slowed considerably and descended almost straight down. Outside, colorful lights and signs flashed brilliantly, casting a kaleidoscope of color through the little signs that read "Alacot" and "Picinne Dels" and "Laden & Kotch," and others that didn't make any sense to her. Enormous glass windows that made up entire walls reflected the lights and signs. Wendy had never seen windows so massive.
They were getting awfully—
The horrifying realization hit Wendy too late to do anything but open her mouth to scream, but even that didn't have a chance. The impact was deafening as the little craft slammed into a building and twisted in mid-air. A brilliant fireball erupted outside, fire rolling across the skiff's fuselage. Tendrils of flame leapt into the cabin through the open door. The heat was amazing.
Metal groaned as one of the large engine turbines was ripped off its support girdles, disappearing in the fireball trailing behind them. Dust and brick, sheared off the building they'd collided with, spilled into the cabin, bouncing and sliding across the floor. The entire craft spun and Wendy screamed as the straps dug into her skin.
They slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash. Metal groaned and creaked around her as the frame warped and bowed. Sparks shot from everywhere, popping and snapping. Several fires danced outside, bathing the dark cabin in a dull orange light.
Stars danced in her vision from the jarring impart. Her body ached. Everything seemed muted and fuzzy, as if it were all a dream. Confused, she looked around, trying to gain her bearings. They'd landed at an angle, the back end of the craft pointing up, gravity pulling her back into the seat.
"Daddy?" she called out weakly.
There was no answer.
Numb fingers fumbled with the metal clasp. They weren't doing what she wanted them to do, felt awkward and dumb trying to work the mechanism.
"Come on," she pleaded, pulling hard on the clasp. She gritted her teeth and finally the lock clicked opened and the straps fell away.
She rubbed at her eyes, trying to work the blurriness out. To her right, the entire side of the craft had been completely torn off. A sharp corner of dark-colored brick was now embedded into the metal frame around her. Black smoke drifted up from a damaged panel on the bulkhead across from her, curling up and out of the gaping hole beside her.
Somewhere, above the constant ringing in her ears, she heard a quiet moaning. She turned, almost as if she were in a dream, and saw her sister hanging limply against her own harness. Long brown hair covered her face.
For an instant, fear paralyzed her. No, she thought, she can't be dead. It's not possible.
Then she saw Maggie's chest rise and fall, and an enormous weight seemed to lift from her. She slid out of her seat, and knelt in front of the unconscious girl.
She gently brushed her sister's hair aside. "Maggs?"
Maggie's eyes fluttered slightly, but didn't open. A small streak of blood ran down her temple. Wendy examined the area and brought back three fingers, sticky with blood.
Wendy swallowed hard. "
You're going to be okay, Maggs. I'm going to get Dad."
She peered through the small hatchway and saw the body of the pilot. He was slumped over, blood dripping from a gory hole in the side of his head. Wendy swallowed again, biting back the urge to vomit.
"Daddy?"
No answer.
A sense of panic she'd never felt before came over her as she realized what his silence could mean. Lips trembling, tears welling in her eyes, she reached out and touched her father's shoulder. "Daddy, please. I don't know what to do. Please, wake up."
Sparks burst from the control panel in front of her. She stumbled back, lifting her arms to protect her face. She tripped over herself and fell hard on her backside. She gasped as pain shot up through her spine.
"Damn it!" she yelled, slapping a hand down on the metal floor. She ignored the stinging pain and pulled her knees up to her chest.
Not knowing what else to do, Wendy cried.
She had no idea how long she sat there, sobbing into her hands. Nothing she'd ever experienced could have prepared her for this. She had no idea where she was, or how she'd even arrived here. She didn't know why people were chasing her, or even who those people were. Nothing made any sense at all.
Until he spoke to her.
A soft, caring voice spoke over the crackling fires outside. "Hey, are you okay?"
Wendy cried out, almost falling over backward as she spun toward the voice. A teenage boy was peering through the open cabin door at her, his face a mask of concern and intrigue. It was the most beautiful face she'd ever seen in her life. It was the face of her hero.
Curly brown hair framed his oval face, his skin smooth and gorgeous. Green eyes, brighter than any she'd ever seen, sparked back at her. He smiled at her.
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came.
He wore a black leather jacket, open in the front, over a dark green shirt tucked into charcoal-grey pants. His clothes looked old and worn. As he stepped into the cabin, a flap of his jacket pulled back and she noticed the hilt of a sword at his waist. There was no blade that she could see, just a small silver guard and black grip.
"Can you speak?" he asked, kneeling in front of her.
Sparks popped again, and Wendy gasped, ducking away from the shower of orange and red.
"I…" She paused, mind racing. "Yes."
The boy's face lit up. An eyebrow rose and a broad smile spread across his face that Wendy couldn't help but return.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi—aah!"
Wendy ducked as another eruption of sparks burst from the damaged panel above them.
The boy laughed. "Careful." He stepped past her and pulled hard on the opposite door. It didn't budge.
"Damn, that's really stuck in there." He cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, "Hey, Ace, gimme a hand, would ya?"
Wendy frowned. "I don't under…" She trailed off as another boy appeared.
"Oh, hi," the new boy said, giving Wendy a small wave.
He appeared to be the same age as the first, sixteen or seventeen, just slightly older than Wendy herself. He was shorter and had jet-black hair. His clothes were even more worn and tattered than his companion's, but the boy didn't seem to be bothered by that at all.
"Shit, you're lucky," he said stepping around her. "Haven't seen a skiff like this in a long time. Pan, you remember that time—"
The other boy cut him off. "Later, come on, let's get them out. Enforcement will be here soon."
"Right."
Maggie, still strapped into her harness, moaned. Her head came up groggily, eyes only just barely open.
"Maggie!" Wendy cried, forgetting about the two boys. She scooted over and wrapped her arms around her little sister. "Oh my God, Maggs, I thought, I thought…" She couldn't finish. She began to cry again.
Her sister's voice was weak. "Where's Daddy?"
The cabin door groaned, cutting off Wendy's response.
The two boys pulled on the cabin door, but it didn't budge. After a few rounds of cursing and pulling, however, the stubborn door seemed to relent, and slid open.
"There," her hero said, sitting back on his haunches. He nodded to Wendy. "Can you walk?"
Wendy sat back and nodded. "Yes."
"How about her?"
Wendy turned back to Maggie, concerned. "Are you okay?"
Maggie coughed and wiped away tears. "I…I think so. I don't know. Where's Mommy and Daddy?"
"This one doesn't look too good," the second boy said. He stood next to Wendy's mother, carefully looking her over.
It was the first time Wendy had noticed her mother since they landed. The raven-haired woman had been unconscious ever since the guard had slapped her back on that strange station. The memory of her father's attack and their escape to the little aircraft came back to her in a flood. She'd always thought of George Darling as a sweet, warm-hearted man who wouldn't have hurt a fly. But the way he'd gunned down those guards...
She shuddered, pushing the memory aside for now. She had more important issues to think about right now.
"That's my mother," she said, the confidence in her voice surprising even her. "My father's up there." She motioned to the cockpit.
A commotion outside caught her hero's attention. He stepped back, turned away, and a second later cursed. "We don't have much time. Come on," he told Wendy, then nodded to Maggs. "Let's get her out of here."
"Go where?" Wendy asked, already working on unbuckling her sister's harness.
"I want Daddy," Maggie said, sniffling.
Wendy brushed back Maggie's hair back, and brought her face level with hers. "It's going to be okay, Maggs. I promise you."
Wendy's words surprised her. And what surprised her even more was that she actually believed them. Her hero's appearance had given her a strange confidence, one she'd never felt before in her life.
What is wrong with me?
"Here," the second boy said, hands outstretched.
Wendy grunted, lifting her sister out of the seat, and moved to hand her over. Little hands and feet wrapped tight around her, however, preventing Wendy from handing her off. She gave a small whine of disapproval and buried her head into Wendy's shoulder.
"Hey, hey," Wendy said, reassuring Maggie, "it's okay, they're going to help us. It's safe."
"I want Daddy!"
Wendy bit back a curse, reminding herself that Maggie was only a child, she didn't understand. "I know you do. I know. But right now, we have to get out of this thing and then I can help Daddy."
Maggie straightened and turned away from Wendy, searching. "Help? What's wrong with him? Is he hurt? Daddy!"
Wendy caught the second's boy's concerned gaze. "Maggie, stop, it's going to be okay. Stop." She pried her sister's arms from around her neck and hefted her towards the boy.
"Take her," she said, even as Maggie fought against her.
"No, no, no," Maggie cried. "No, I won't go without Daddy! Daddy!"
The boy took the crying girl in his arms and immediately ducked through the cabin's open door. Her sister's cries faded; however, as they did, she heard other voices coming from beyond the door. Angry voices.
Outside, a crowd had surrounded the crash site. Hushed conversations flowed through the mass of people. The tension grew as more and more people joined, several shouted warnings to leave before Enforcement arrived, others cursed Wendy and her family for bringing unwanted attention to their blocks.
"Enforcement will tear down this block looking for them!" one shouted.
"They're going to kill us all!" cried another.
Her hero turned from the crowd. "Come on," he said, moving up to Wendy's mother. "We don't have much time."
Without thinking, Wendy moved over to help him, and a thought occurred to her as they carefully undid Mary Darling's harness. "I don't understand. What's going on? Who are those people? Who are you?"
The boy grunted as Wendy's mother dropped into his arms. "Pan."
Wendy frowned. "E
xcuse me?"
"My name," he said, lifting Mary's lifeless body onto his shoulder. "It's Pan."
Wendy followed him out onto a wide street filled with angry people. Skyscrapers, bigger than anything she'd ever seen, surrounded them. Streetlights lit the area in a pale-yellow glow. She didn't recognize any of it.
"Get out of here, ya bastards!" Pan shouted, jerking his head at the crowd. "If you're not going to help, get lost! Bunch of worthless Graft-loving shitheads!"
He moved over to the side of the street and set Mary down, careful so her head wouldn't hit the concrete. A few feet away, Ace was showing Maggie something near a set of stone steps. The street was lined with rows of townhomes, identical in every way, from the stone steps to the clay-colored entranceways and trim.
"Here," Ace said, holding a small plastic cylinder out for Maggie. "Take care of this for me, would you?"
Though she'd stopped crying, lines from her tears streaked dirt and grime on the little girl's face. She took the offered container and held it close, as if it was the most important thing in her life.
With the girl distracted, Ace turned to Pan and nodded at the growing crowd. "We need to disappear."
"I know." Pan looked around, as if gathering his bearings. "Anything come to mind?"
Ace shook his head. "Not a clue."
Wendy knelt down next to her mother, putting a hand on the woman's forehead. Her eyes flickered, but didn't open. She ran her thumb above the gash just below her mother's hairline, feeling crusted blood. Mary's face was almost entirely covered in dark red blood, some dried, some not. Wendy remembered her father telling her once that facial wounds often looked worse than they were.
Pan squatted down next to her. "Doesn't look like it's bleeding anymore. Pretty good gash, though."
Wendy nodded but said nothing.
The noise from the crowd grew louder, the voices full of anger or fear or both. Several had decided that the mass of people in one area wasn't the best thing for the block, and were trying to disperse the crowd, but their efforts had little effect.
