Dragonfly

by Alyssa Thiessen

  “What happened?” Her voice was breathy, high-pitched. She glanced down at me and her face lost its color. “Joshua. What happened?”

  I smiled weakly at her—or I meant for it to be a smile, anyway. “I don’t know,” the boy said, “but he’s bleeding and we need to do something about it.”

  “We need to call an ambulance.”

  “We can’t.” She looked up at him, frowning, and he repeated, more slowly, “You must know we can’t.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was shaking, but I saw her deliberately calm herself; she straightened her shoulders. “Okay.” Steady now. She was all business. “I brought my Dad’s work bag, from the clinic. It has a bunch of supplies in it—and antibiotics.” She took the towel away, carefully, making sure it hadn’t dried to the wound yet. Her eyes welled; I saw her waver. “We need to get all this stuff off. His shirt, these stupid harnesses.” They half rolled me on my side, and I tried to stifle a groan. I heard fabric tearing, and then I felt her pulling at my wings. “Get these things off. I need to see what I’m doing.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The wings. They’re mechanical.”

  The guy’s voice sounded strained. “He told you they’re mechanical?”

  “Yeah. Remote control. Attached with the harnesses –” I felt the rush of air as she yanked the straps free, and I heard her suck in her breath. I knew she was seeing the truth; four, clear, insect-like wings protruding from between my shoulder blades. I felt the warm tips of her fingers explore the joining between the wings and my skin. I was losing vision. “What on...” The voices came from far away. And then, my world was mercifully black.

  The first thing I noticed was the searing pain in my side, and the next was that I was, indeed, alive. I was lying on the floor on my back, the weight of my body heavy against the wings stretched out beneath me. Their voices were close by: quiet, indistinguishable words, spoken at a whisper and blending together. Burning thirst. “Could I –” My voice was hoarse, and Lexi came to my bedside immediately, putting a cup of water in my hand. “Thanks.” I drank. She sat beside me, running her hand along my hairline. Her fingers were cool on my forehead.

  “Hey, Dragonfly,” she said softly. She didn’t hate me. “I didn’t know if you would pull through.” I waited for her to ask me again what happened but she didn’t. She sat in silence and looked down at me. Her eyes, though, held a thousand questions. I wondered what she wanted to ask first. What was I? Where did I come from? Who was I, really? For the first time in my life, I owed somebody an explanation.

  “I’m Eric, by the way.” A muffled voice called from the table. His mouth was full.

  “Joshua,” I offered weakly.

  “So I hear. So, what’s your deal?” Lexi shot him a quick warning look, and he answered with a long, drawn-out sigh and loud chewing.

  “Shhh,” Lexi whispered to me, softly. “You should try to rest. I tried to clean your injury, but I don’t know how good a job I did. I’d never done anything like that before, and I’m worried about infection. We were just really lucky he stabbed you where he did—I couldn’t have done anything if he’d hit any organs. But still, you have to be careful. I stopped the bleeding and stitched everything up the best I could—but even with it stitched up like this, it’ll be pretty easy to open.”

  “You shoulda seen her work,” Eric offered from across the room. “Stitched you up like a pro. I thought I was gonna be sick with all that blood. She didn’t even flinch.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I believe it.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She smiled gently down at me. “You’re gonna have a pretty wicked looking scar later. Apparently, stitching someone up is a lot harder than it looks when my Dad does it on an animal.”

  “Plus I bet you’ve never seen him work on a bug.” Eric’s voice held laughter, but her lips pursed into a hard line.

  “Ignore him,” Lexi said. She shifted her eyes to the wings underneath me. “I can’t believe they’re real.” Her hands were clasped in her lap now. As if she couldn’t help herself, she asked, “Can I touch them?”

  “Sure.” Nobody had ever touched my wings; aside from when she had been blindly trying to remove them from my body, I’d never even known what touch would feel like, and I had been so out of my mind with pain then that I had hardly even noticed. Now, though, as she ran her fingers along the edges of my top right wing and then flattened her palm against it gently, I closed my eyes and concentrated on the warm sensation. “I don’t know how to thank you, Lexi. For saving my life.”

  “Truth would be nice.” Not angry. Just matter-of-fact. “But not right now. Rest now.” It wasn’t difficult for me to do what she asked. I was tired. Hazy. Something had been in the water she’d given me. Something was making the pain ebb and my head feel fuzzy and good. Calm. Seeing me glance at the water, she explained, “Fentanyl and antibiotics. They’ll help you sleep and get better faster.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, and the light vanished again.

  When I awoke, the lights in the apartment were out and the curtains were drawn. The streetlights outside gleamed through the thin fabric, illuminating the two figures slumped together on the couch. Eric slept, his head resting on the armrest. Lexi’s body rested on his, her head on his bony chest. I felt a flash of something I didn’t quite recognize and definitely didn’t like. I struggled to get up, throwing the thick blanket off my body, feeling cool air brush over my naked chest. Pain, but less than I remembered. Lexi stirred and sat up. “You’re awake.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Off and on for a week now. You had a pretty bad fever.”

  “A week. Your folks worried?”

  “No. I told them I went skiing at a friend’s cottage.”

  I sat quietly beside her. “Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth after Christmas.”

  “It wasn’t the first time, anyway. And that’s all your sorry for?”

  “No. Guess I’m least sorry for that. The disappearing act: that was my attempt at doing the right thing. You know now, right, that life with me could never be normal?”

  “I don’t want normal.”

  “You do. You don’t realize it, but you do. Ordinary is much better than—whatever I am. Whatever our life would be.”

  I’d said our life. She was silent for a moment and then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me they were real? At least, eventually. After we knew each other? Why did you keep lying to me?”

  “I don’t know. I never tell anyone they’re real. That’s why I wear the harnesses.”

  “But even after you got to know me?”

  “I guess,” I went for honesty, “I never really thought that this...” I gestured to the two of us, “could ever be anything permanent.”

  “Thanks.” She was silent.

  Finally, I touched her hand. “You think I didn’t want it to be? Every time I left your place, I felt sick. But I don’t get to have a regular life. And I don’t get to have you. That’s just the way it has to be for me.”

  She shook her head, started to say something, but then changed her mind and fell silent. “We’ll see.” She squeezed my hand now. After a moment of quiet, she asked, “So, what are you, anyway?”

  “What am I?”

  “Did someone make you—like that? Or were you born that way?”

  I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I remember almost nothing from when I was really young. I don’t really remember my parents. I just—this is me. This is who I am. I can’t give you any more than that.”

  “How many people know about you?”

  “I have a contact in each city I’ve been to—and I’ve been all over the world.”

  “All over the world!” I knew she’d like that. “What do you mean, a contact?”

  “People who help me find places to live. Get me my groceries. Point me in the direction of the best area to hit.”

  “Ah. And you trust them?”

  “More or less. But I
pick people...” I tried to find a way to tactfully explain my selection process. “... who aren’t so well off in life. Who would be grateful for a little money and friendship, rather than for the fame offered by exposing me. And who wouldn’t be believed anyway, if they told.”

  “Who else?”

  “There used to be Nik. He was the guy who taught me what I needed to know to survive.”

  “Nik. Your guardian angel.”

  “Hardly. Maybe at first.” His image came to my mind again: gruff, unsmiling, merciless.

  “What ever happened to him?

  “He and I...” I paused. “We had a fundamental disagreement on ways of doing business.” That was one way to put it. “Every now and then, when I’m in the area, I’ll circle around our old place. But I never go back. And he’s long gone, anyway.”

  “What was he like?”

  “He just—he was practical. He didn’t let people get in his way.” Nik’s particular brand of skills would have come in handy in my latest altercation though. I wouldn’t have almost died. And there would definitely have been no witnesses. “Anyway, besides Nik, there’s you. And Eric, now, I guess.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yep.” I hesitated. “Well, and the guy who did this,” I gestured to the white gauze taped to my side, “and his wife.”

  She looked down at it, touching the clear binding. “Has that ever happened before—on the job?”

  I shook my head.

  Eric shifted beside her, stretching now and sitting up. “Hey, you’re awake.” He leaned out past Lexi to look at me. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stood and sauntered across the room. He opened the curtain to let some light in, and then he began rummaging through my cooler.

  A thought occurred to me. “So, did I make the news?”

  He and Lexi exchanged a long look. He grabbed a folded paper from the table and tossed it over to me, just before taking an apple from the cooler. He leaned against the peeling paint of the bare walls and chewed loudly, watching me as I opened the paper.

  “It makes you sound very strong, if that makes you feel any better,” Lexi said softly.

  “Wonderful. And look, front page.” I knew at a glance it was about me. “Winged thief terrorizes couple,” I read aloud, in my best impression of a news anchor from the nineteen fifties. Nobody laughed. I scanned the rest of the article quickly. Broken window, viciously attacked. An embellishment, at best. Some kind of a winged device. “This is good news,” I told them. “Nobody knows they’re real.” I also noticed the article mentioned that his estranged wife had no comment. Estranged.

  “Not the point,” Lexi said. Eric was silent. “People know what you’re doing. It mentions a string of high-rise robberies throughout the country. People will be looking for you.”

  “They won’t find me.”

  “They’ll also be expecting you.”

  “I’ll manage. I’ll go somewhere else.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Yeah. It’s what I do. I’ll move on.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then wordlessly got up, shoved on her boots, and left. I didn’t try to stop her. I wasn’t completely dense. I was planning to leave, likely for good, and I’d made no offer to take her with me. I looked up at Eric. He shrugged. “What can you do, Man?” As if the opportunist wasn’t gloating secretly.

  “I can’t take her with me.”

  “Guess not.” He shifted. “But where do you think you’re going to be able to go where they won’t be looking for you? You know, if you made headlines here, it could be picked up by the global press. Especially in developed places. Places with money.” He leaned back again, a little too casually, as the words sunk in. I hadn’t thought of that. Not that I was looking forward to getting back to work. “But you know, I could help you out.”

  I looked at him sharply. “Why would you do that?”

  He returned my gaze evenly. “I don’t know. Have no job—no prospects. It would get me out of town, give me something to do. And what can I say? I’m a nice guy.”

  He was lying now. We both knew it, but I couldn’t seem to turn him down. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Don’t know.” Another obvious lie. “But we could figure it out as we go. You know you can’t stay here.”

  “Sure.” I forced a casual tone. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “What sounds like a plan?” I hadn’t even heard her enter.

  “That was quick.”

  “I didn’t go anywhere. I got to the front door and realized I was being a child.” I nodded, about to agree, when she added, “You’re scared. I get that. But I don’t intend on letting you let me go again. Now, what’s a good idea?”

  Eric cleared his throat. “I offered to help your friend out while he figures out what to do next. There’s this abandoned place I know, in Colorado. We can crash there for a bit while things cool off.”

  “Yeah.” I was game. “Eric will give me directions and I’ll fly out there. He’ll drive and we’ll meet up.”

  “Actually, Eric and I will meet up with you.” She met my eyes.

  Eric raised his eyebrows and grinned at me. “Really?”

  “Lexi, it’s not a good idea. We don’t know exactly where we’re going.” I looked back at Eric’s stupid face. “And I don’t know anything about this guy. I’m not comfortable with you alone in a car with him, going who-knows-where.”

  “Well, I’m not comfortable with being left alone again,” she shot back. “I’m not comfortable with you going who-knows-where with him either.”

  “Thanks,” Eric chimed in.

  Ignoring him, she finished triumphantly, “And I’m not comfortable with you thinking you get to tell me what to do. I’m coming, okay?”

  “It’s fine with this guy,” Eric said, pointing at himself, daring me to counter her again.

  “Not okay.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you’re outvoted.”

  I sighed. I should forget the whole thing, leave now, and figure out where to go on my own. But the thought of leaving her with Eric made me sick. Besides, I was convinced, quite irrationally, that I needed to know what it was he was doing. No matter what it cost me. “Fine. But I’m not flying then.” As way of gracious explanation, I added, “I don’t want to risk missing our meeting spot.”

  “So you’re coming in the vehicle?” Lexi asked. They both simultaneously glanced at my wings.

  “They’re flexible.”

  Lexi smothered a smirk and Eric furrowed his brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? It’s, like, a 27 hour drive—and that’s if we don’t stop.”

  “Positive.” Not at all.

  “Fine.” We had a plan. All that was left were the details.

  Chapter 10

  We didn’t have much time to prepare. Now that I was all over the news, to any joker who half-remembered seeing me frequenting my apartment, what had before seemed like a trick of the light or imagination, would suddenly seem plausible. Now that I was in the public mind, I existed.

  It didn’t take me long to figure out, though, that Eric didn’t need much time to prepare anyway. He was simply miming the actions of someone figuring things out. He knew exactly what he was doing. As we readied to leave, I imagined ways to make Lexi stay behind. I could tell her I didn’t care about her at all or that I found her annoying, unattractive, stifling. That would be fair thing to do. Get her out of my life, permanently. But I couldn’t make myself do it. I had a feeling she wouldn’t believe me anyway, if I had. She was stubbornly glued to me.

  She did, at one point during our two days of preparation, return home to get a bag of her things and to say goodbye to her family. She slipped out in the morning while I slept. Lexi told me later that her father had cried when she told him she was planning to go on a road trip with one of her friends. She said it was because he was disappointed in her, but I was pretty sure he would simply miss her. Her mother, she
said, had tried to keep her composure but had slipped her a wad of her own personal spending money, and her brother had solemnly made her promise to bring back souvenirs.

  Eric pretended to go about figuring out the mundane details: what route we would take, how much gas we would need, where exactly we could stay. He programmed our course into Lexi’s GPS and, when it spit out the expected time, he acted as if it were new information. Lexi was convinced by his performance and believed him when he explained again about the abandoned cabin he knew about, in the rural west, where we could go to figure out our next move. It was secluded, he said, and completely safe. I believed half of his statement.

  The day of our departure, as we waited in the darkening apartment for night to fall and provide us our opportunity, Eric slept on the couch, leaving Lexi and me to finish packing the cooler with the groceries he’d bought with Lexi’s money. He hadn’t yet asked me any questions, which, of course, made me trust him even less. Lexi was full of questions. Could I remember what my mother looked like, at least a little? How did I decide I could trust Nik? How did I learn to do what I did? What was my first flying experience like?

  The flying question was an easy one. I couldn’t say for sure if it were my first flying experience, but I felt it could have been. The strangeness of it had struck me at the time. Nik and I had been in the field outside the rundown, abandoned barn we’d been living in. He’d fixed it up, made it liveable, and it had been home for a while. We were standing in the field, several months after he’d found me.