by JA Huss
"What the fuck are they doing down there? Why do they have clones of me?"
He throws up his hands. "You tell me, Junco. Why do they clone you? I don't know what game you're playing with me, and really, I don't care at this point. But I'm sick of this bullshit I-have-no-idea routine you keep pulling."
"You're sick—? That's hilarious, how the hell did you know where the clones were then? And how the hell did you have the biometrics to get past those sentries?"
He jumps to his feet and then grabs my hand and pulls me up without asking.
"So, you're not going to answer me? You're just gonna pretend that you're not hip-high in shit with everything that's going on in my life?"
He pulls me towards him and shakes his head. "Another talk for another time, Junco."
I push him away. "Fuck you then." And I start walking into the pine trees.
"Where are you going?"
I ignore him completely.
"Yer gonna get lost out here in the dark."
I stop and turn, my lip curled up in rage. "Really? I'm going to get lost, am I? That's funny, considering that I grew up in the tallgrass and I can tell you how to get to seven different farms right from this spot. I'm not lost, Tier." I sneer his name as it comes out of my mouth. "And I might be afraid of the dark, but that's what the stars are for."
He laughs a little at that and it makes my face go hot.
"Something funny?"
"Yer afraid of the dark too? Let's see, fish, nightdogs, prairie lions, and the dark. That's some list ya got there, Junco."
My whole upper body heats up. "If someone dumped you out in the middle of the tallgrass at night when you were eight and told you the apexers were gonna eat you alive if you couldn't fend them off with a sword, you'd probably be afraid of all that shit too. Asshole."
His mood stays light as I turn and walk away. "Well, damn. You must be one hell of a sword fighter."
I halt again and turn back to him. "That's cute, is it? Leaving small children out in the night to be eaten? For your information I couldn't even lift the sword, Tier. I was eight. And if I'm this size at nineteen, how fucking big do you think I was at eight? I didn't fight them off, you idiot. I climbed up a pine tree, ripping out three fingernails in the process, and then jumped limb from limb until I ran out of branches. I stayed in that last tree for three days before they finally came and got me."
Jasus, Junco. Lock that shit down – now.
He shuts up after that and just walks with me. After another quarter mile I find the overgrown footpath that leads up the mountain. Tier follows in silence.
It takes a lot longer to get there than I remember, but finally the lake comes into view and I can make out the little fishing cabin set just off to the side and under the protective cover of the pines in the approaching dawn.
My eyes pause at the dock...
Picture yourself standing on the edge of a dock. In front of you is a mountain lake and behind you is a small cabin...
But this is not the dock I want so badly it hurts.
"Whose place is this?" Tier asks.
"Mine."
The door is unlocked, so I go right in, find the candles and matches and draw the curtains so the light won't be noticed by anyone passing nearby. Not that anyone would, this is my land now and it's private property. But habits, right?
Tier flops himself down in a chair in the small living room and watches me closely, but does not interfere.
I lie down on the couch opposite Tier's chair and it takes me about ten seconds to be oblivious to the world.
I wake to a painful rumble announcing my hunger and I try to remember when I ate last. I look around the cabin and spy some avian nutrition packets on the kitchen table but pump some water from the kitchen sink and drink instead.
When my stomach is bloated with liquid I go find Tier. We only have one bedroom in the cabin, so it's not like I have to look far. Besides, his boots are hastily discarded in the hallway and his charred clothes are strewn about like a trail of breadcrumbs.
I think of my own smelly clothes, which are covered in black soot and burn holes and smell like blast chemicals, and I regret sleeping in them. I push the door open and stare at the naked form lying face down on the bed, completely uncovered except for his wings which are spread across his back like a blanket. His body is almost sideways, like he fell into bed accidentally, and his face is stuffed into the pillow, muffling the snores trying to escape his mouth.
I shake myself out of it and leave, closing the door behind me and pass the food packets on the table – life is too short to eat shitty food – and pull some fishing gear out of the front closet.
I've been fishing here with my dad since I was two, and I know exactly where the fish tend to bite, even in the late afternoon. I wade into the shallow lake water up to my hips, tie a fly and cast out.
Fishing isn't just about catching fish, that's just what you get at the end if you're good at it.
Fishing is about the journey, and the journey is typically the thoughts you have as you go through the motions. Fishing, my dad always said, is a thinking man's sport.
I watch the sun dropping into the trees in the west and my thoughts sink to sadness. I roll the past few days around in my head as I seek out a taker for my fly, false-casting back and forth in an open loop to let the line go out further into the lake. I do this for the better part of an hour, and I'm losing hope quick as the sun sets when I get a taker. I pull the bass out and its normally olive-gold scales are dark green in the fading light. He'll have to do.
I gather up all my gear and turn to go back to the house when I see Tier staring at me from the back porch. He's sitting on the deck shirtless, legs hanging over, his arms and chin resting on the bottom railing.
He waves. I stop walking and just look at him for a moment, wondering if I should keep my distance in case I decide to bow out of this shit, or if I should wave back. I hold up the fish instead, and he smiles.
He waits for me on the porch. "Hey," he says, a little question mark at the end. Like he's trying to figure out if I'm still mad.
"I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now, Tier. I'm hungry and stink like chemicals, fish, and shit. So just leave me alone." The screen door smacks the wooden frame as I leave him outside, and I take the fish to the kitchen and begin prepping it.
The cabin is for hunting and my dad would have important buddies up here with him over the years to track deer and shoot ducks. After my mom took off he never really left me alone, so I was a permanent fixture on these trips as well.
But beyond that, the cabin is our safe house too. If you just stumbled onto it somehow and came inside it would provide you with shelter and water, but not much else. But if you knew where to look you'd find everything you need to survive here for at least six months.
I slide the pocket door that reveals the empty pantry and bounce my boot on the floorboards until one pops up in the corner. Then I slip my fingers beneath the board and find the latch, pull it, and hear the click as the mechanism releases the lock on the hidden door.
The empty shelves on the far wall move on recessed rollers to reveal a reinforced trap door that when open leads down to a lead-lined concrete cellar filled floor to ceiling with six-gallon buckets of survival gear, dry goods and freeze-dried meat. I unscrew the resealable lids and rummage around for a mylar bag labeled rice. It's enough to feed thirty people and I only need a cup, but who gives a shit. There's like five hundred pounds more where that came from.
Dinner takes about thirty minutes start to finish. Then I go find Tier.
I can see him through the screen door, right where I left him. Still sitting on the deck, legs hanging over, head and arms pushed through the railing. It's cool outside now that the sun's gone, but he doesn't look cold. I kick the door and he glances sideways over his shoulder at me.
"Dinner's ready."
He smiles but doesn't get up right away. Instead he brings his hands up to his forehead like he's
got a headache, and lets out a deep breath.
"You gonna eat or what?"
He gets up and joins me inside without a word.
I follow him into the kitchen and go to the cupboard. "You want a bowl or a plate?"
He just stares at me for a few seconds, then finds his voice. "Plate, I guess."
"Sit, I'll bring it to you."
I watch him take a seat near the window and I shake my head as I pile on the food and then slide his over and sit down. "You look like you've never sat at a table to eat a real meal before."
"I have," he says quietly, "but it's been a really long time."
"Oh."
What do you say to that?
We eat in silence.
Chapter Twenty
"I'm taking a bath," I announce after eating and staring out the window at the lake for several minutes from the couch.
"Wait." He's lounging in the living room chair sideways, feet dangling off one end, and he grabs my arm as I pass by. "There's hot water?"
"There will be after I turn the on the water heater." He just stares at me, blinking. "We have a generator," I say. He smiles and nods, and I'm angry at his assumptions so I sneer at him and continue to walk towards the bedroom. "I can practically read your thoughts, Tier. And they're not flattering."
"What are ya talkin' about?"
"Your disparaging view of us Rural people. Like we're backwards freaks and hot water is something we give up for God." I slam the door behind me and fire up the generator in the bathroom. The cabin is pretty simple, but hot water was something my mom insisted on since camping makes people filthy and stinky. This is one of my more solid memories of her and my heart aches when reality hits me about how alone I am in the world.
The tub takes a while to fill since it is old and deep, so I peel off my disgusting clothes and lie on the bed to wait. The rustic room with the wood-paneled walls and comfy old sagging bed looks exactly like I remember, except for Tier's shit that has somehow made its way in here. He's got several of the tech devices lined up on the small table my mother used as a vanity, and I spy the letter and reading device on a chair.
I get up to get them when the tracking tech lights up and begins beeping. I hear the thud of footsteps as Tier realizes it's active and charges towards the door. I'm standing there, naked as the day I was born, when he barges in.
He stops short when he sees me. His eyes look me up and down and I raise my eyebrows at him severely, and all the while the device is beeping like crazy. I stand where I am and then he slinks past me, grabs the tech, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Saying nothing.
I grab the reader and letter and take it into the bathroom where the tub is just full enough for me to get in and not feel like I'm sitting in a puddle. There are some old bubbles in the cupboard under the sink and I empty the container under the running water. They froth up like marshmallows and I step in, making sure not the get the letter and reading device wet.
I look at the letter and read it again, just to make sure I completely understand what it is he's trying to say.
Dear Junco,
If you think about what makes a man it comes back to duty, honor, character, and courage. I'd like to think I have all four, but I'm sure by the time all this is over you'll disagree. I'm sorry about that. If I had all the time in the world, I'd let you come around on your own. But I don't. So you'll just have to trust me. I'm sorry, Junco. Duty calls your honor and courage reveals your character.
Capt. Raubtier
Aves 039
Presidential Guard
It makes me want to throw up, not because I actually understand the full meaning of his words, but because I understand the underlying sentiment. Whatever his feelings for me, they don't matter. He's got orders, he's got his duty, he's got more important things than me to worry about.
I look at the signature to try and make sense of it. Raubtier is his full name, apparently. It sounds familiar to me, but I can't immediately place it. Aves must be their own word for avian, which is also interesting since it is the word scientists use to classify birds in Earth taxonomy. Presidential Guard sounds important, so it's pretty clear he's got rank. I crumple the letter up and throw it on the floor across the room and then turn my attention to the reading device.
It babbles at me for a few minutes, basically asking the same stupid questions as before and I throw it across the room to join the letter, then sink down into the bubbles to soak the confusion away.
I'm not sure how long I've been in the tub when I hear Tier's knock on the door. It's locked, so when he tries the knob, it just clicks back and forth.
"Junco, open up."
I slip down in to the water to wet my hair again. It's tepid and the bubbles lie flat and sparse across the water.
"Junco!" He pounds harder now.
I ignore him and stand up in the water and pull the plug. He must hear me moving around because soon after his footsteps thud across the hardwood floors and finally fade.
The towel is large, but not luxurious in any way, and it wraps around me almost twice before I can tuck the corner in to hold it in place. I swipe the steam off the mirror and look at myself. The last time I did this I looked horrific, and soon after Tier sent a man's head spiraling up into the night as I watched helpless.
Why am I so unsettled?
I'm mad at him but I can't put my finger on the reason. I could say it is because Moju is gone. And yeah, that's probably a good portion of it. But that's not the only thing. If he's telling the truth then Moju did it so I could escape. Me fucking it all up by going back to help him and getting captured in the process would just make everyone's situation suck.
I'm more mad at myself, I think.
And a better question is why am I still hanging out with him?
A successful completion of his mission requires me to leave my planet. That's just crazy talk. It's never gonna happen. So why am I here?
Maybe the last time I asked myself this I could explain it away because of the healing endorphins, if that's what they were, but not now. That stuff has to be out of my system by now.
I hear Tier's heavy footsteps once again and lose my patience when he knocks. "Knock on that door one more time, Captain, and I'll make you sorry you ever met me."
He doesn't reply.
I swipe at the steam on the mirror once more, look myself in the eyes, and ask myself a final question. "What are you gonna do about all this, Junco?"
I wait until the tub has drained, then start the hot water again for Tier, and finally leave the bathroom. He's sitting on the bed waiting for me.
"I started the water for you. It's all yours now."
I walk over to the trunk at the foot of the bed and open it and begin searching for clothes that might fit me. They are all camos for hunting, but who cares. I find a white tank, a pair of snow-patterned fatigues, and a matching jacket and toss them all on the bed. Then I rummage around for a pair of socks and some old field boots and finally close the lid.
Tier is still sitting on the bed looking at me.
"If you're not gonna take a bath, get the hell out so I can dress."
He walks into the bathroom and closes the door without saying a word.
After I dress I take a seat outside on the grass, my back resting up against the large flat redrock that my dad put in the ground for stargazing when I was a kid. My well-worn fatigues should be a little snug since I haven't been out here in several years, but they aren't. I've probably lost ten pounds over the course of this affair. They are soft and comfortable though, and it makes me feel almost normal. I look up to see which of my friends are putting in an appearance and find all the ones I can currently see in the November sky, plus map out the ones I can't see and guesstimate when they might appear, if at all.
Tier is next to me before I hear the sharp slap of the old wooden screen door close behind him. "Got room for me out here, Junco?" he asks with hesitation.
The rock is long enough to fi
t a family of stargazers, so what am I going to say? "Sure."
He sits down next to me and leans back against the rock. I can smell soap on him and look over to find him shirtless and make a little grunt of disapproval. "It's a little cold to go without a shirt, don't you think?"
"Ya, but I didn't want to cut up your da's shirts without askin'. Wings, right?" He points to his back.
"Oh." It comes out pretty weak. "Well, you can cut one up, that's OK. It's not like he's going to be needing them." I look back up at the sky and pretend to search for familiar stars.
"So which one would ya be, then?"
"Huh?"
"The constellations," he says, pointing up. "Yer forever looking up there. Like ya wish you could fly away. How about Sirius?"
I laugh. A real outburst. "You're really lame, ya know that?" He just stares at me. "Well, not Sirius, that's not even a constellation," I say playing along. "Everyone names their dogs after Sirius anyway. Proper Farm girls should not aspire to be Sirius."
"Shouldn't they?" He leans forward and all I see of him are his black wings, the tips of which are curling along the ground they are so long. They are magnificent, even in the dark. I want to reach out and touch them, but I don't.
"Besides," I say, looking upward, "Canis Major isn't even visible this time of year. I usually choose from the ones I can see."
"Aye, but Sirius is also the star for Isis, who's a later version of Inanna."
I look at him and tilt my head. "Really?"
He nods. "On your world anyway. But Inanna herself is Venus, right? The morning and evening star. Which one then? If ya could be immortalized in the sky?"
I shrug. "Cetus?"
"The sea beast?" He cringes at me. "Now that is telling, Junco. Truly. Yer not a beast."
I think about it for a minute as Tier leans back against the rock. I can feel his warm arm touch me as he drops his head into my space. His dark hair tumbles down over his eyes, which have just a hint of glow to them, and he whispers, "And don't pick Draco either," with a wink.
