by Aaron Hodges
Beside her, Ashley flinched and slapped her arm. “Owe!” she muttered, studying her arm. “Was that a flea?”
Liz blinked, momentarily confused by the change of subject. She stared at her friend, and then angrily shook her head. “Never mind that! What do you mean Chris is gone? He hasn’t…” she swallowed, unable to finish the question.
Ashley’s eyes widened. “No, no, he’s fine. Or he was when he left,” she replied. Then she looked away. “But I told him to go. He couldn’t stay here any longer, not after what he did.”
Staring at her friend, Liz tried to put her words together. “What…I thought…?”
Ashley stood and wandered around the room. Her eyes were distant, her steps hesitant as she circled the couch. Liz watched her, wondering what was going on in her friend’s head. Hadn’t Ashley been the one telling her all week to give Chris a chance?
Making a loop around Liz’s room, Ashley returned to the sofa. Her hands trailed along the back of the cushions. Liz shivered as they touched her wings. Alarm prickled the back of Liz’s neck as Ashley moved around the couch and sat down beside her, their bare legs touching.
“I can forgive Chris, but…” Ashley continued, “but not yet.”
“Ashley…” Liz began, her chest clenched tight, but words failed her as she turned and saw Ashley’s amber eyes aglow.
“He can’t be here, not now. They were going to come for him, Harry and his people. And…we need time. He needs to earn back our trust, but he can’t do that here. He would have been executed if I hadn’t set him free.”
Liz hardly heard what Ashley was saying. Her hands trembled violently. She sat staring down at where their legs still touched, unable to pull away. “Ashley,” she croaked. “Your leg, it’s touching me.”
Ashley blinked. Slowly, she turned to look at Liz. A frown creased her forehead. Finally she seemed to realise what Liz was saying, and jerked her leg away. Together they stared at where Liz’s leg had been touching hers, waiting.
Several minutes passed before Ashley finally shook her head. “I don’t feel anything.” She looked askance at Liz. “Can you control it now?”
“No,” Liz croaked. She was still watching Ashley’s leg. “I don’t…I…” she broke off as Ashley leaned forward and wrapped Liz in her arms.
Liz sat frozen in Ashley’s embrace, her heart clenched in terror. Unable to pull away, she went rigid, too terrified to breathe, to believe she might finally be able to hold someone in her arms again. Closing her eyes, she waited for Ashley to scream, for the deadly Nematocysts in her skin to trigger, sending venomous barbs deep into Ashley’s flesh.
The minutes trickled by, and still nothing happened. Wrapped in Ashley’s hug, Liz finally started to relax. Hot tears gathered in her eyes, and sobbing she threw her arms around Ashley. She clung desperately to her friend, feeling her soft skin beneath her hands, hardly caring that she was half-naked, that her wings might still be infested with fleas, or that the boy she was supposed to love had run away.
Chris.
The thought of him pulled her back. Sucking in a breath, Liz detached herself and looked at Ashley through shimmering eyes. “I don’t know how this is possible.”
Ashley’s lips twitched. “Neither do I. Sometimes it just feels like this is all too much, all the sadness and anger and pain, I feel like I’m about to burst. Then I take a breath, and all that stuff slips away. Everything becomes so clear, like I’m seeing the world through a whole new set of eyes. And I feel like I can do anything.”
Liz laughed softly. “I’m starting to think that might be true.” Her smile faded. “Where has Chris gone?”
“I don’t know,” Ashley replied. “I told him…I told him there was nothing left for him here.”
Liz looked away at that, her throat constricting. She closed her eyes, remembering Chris lying in the hospital bed, staring up at her, unable to speak. He had taken everything she’d said, all her accusations and insults, without objection. He hadn’t offered any arguments, any excuses, only his regret.
She realised then how much more she hadn’t said, how much more she needed to tell him. How she’d missed him every day, when she’d thought he was dead. How her heart had soared when she’d leapt through that door beneath Alcatraz and found him standing there. How she’d decided to do anything it took to kill the Director—and then spared the woman’s life to save him.
How despite everything, a part of her still loved him.
Suddenly she was standing.
“What are you doing, Liz?” Ashley asked as Liz stalked into her bedroom.
The room was plain and undecorated, with only a bed and dresser for furniture. She strode across and began extracting clothes from the drawers. Pulling on a top, she searched for a clean pair of underwear. Following her into the room, Ashley watched on in silence.
“I don’t care what he did,” Liz muttered as she slid into a pair of jeans. “I’m not losing him again. He doesn’t just get to run away.”
“He’s already gone, Liz. He can’t come back. They’ll kill him,” Ashley replied.
“Then I’m going after him.” Liz cursed as she tried to spread her wings, and realised the top she’d pulled on was new. She hadn’t had a chance to cut slits in the back.
Rummaging in the drawer, she came up with a knife and offered it to Ashley. Her friend took it after a second’s hesitation, and Liz turned around to expose her back.
“I thought you couldn’t forgive him,” Ashley asked as she took hold of Liz’s shirt and started to cut.
Liz shrugged. Eying the clothes in the dresser, she wondered if she should pack a bag. She quickly dismissed the idea. Every minute she delayed, Chris only got further away. Sensing Ashley was done, Liz turned around again and spread her wings. A few feathers caught in the fabric, but then they pulled free, and her twenty feet of black feathers spread across the room. A tremor ran through them, sending water spraying through the air.
“Hey!” Ashley shouted, holding up her hands.
“Sorry,” Liz grinned wryly. Stepping past Ashley, she moved back into the living room. She glanced around as Ashley followed her out. “It’s going to be a long flight with wet feathers.”
“You’re really going after him?” Ashley asked.
“I think I have too,” Liz replied. Moving across the room, she pushed the window open and looked out into the night.
“What will you say when you find him?”
Liz sighed. Then she laughed. “I’ll probably yell at him some more.”
At that, she turned and stepped out into open air.
Chapter 13
“Chris is gone.” Sam added several expletives to the statement as he stepped into his room and found Ashley waiting.
On the bed, Ashley sat up and looked at him. “I know.”
Sam blinked, pausing in the doorway. “You do?”
“Yes, well, I am the one who let him go,” she said with a wink.
Sam stared at her for a moment, then stepped up and pulled her into a hug. She came willingly, her slim frame folding into his as he held her tight against his chest. The honeyed scent of her hair wafted in his nostrils as he kissed the top of her head.
“You must have been just in time,” he said as they separated. “Harry betrayed us. He sent someone to move him while I was in his meeting.”
“Did he?” Ashley smiled wanly. “I guess the other council members are going to be upset.”
“Furious,” Sam replied with a grin. But his smile quickly faded. “I guess we can’t really blame them. So many have spent their whole lives suffering from the Chead. All they know is conflict.”
“You sound like Liz,” Ashley replied as he sat beside her. Silently, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “She left too.”
Sam frowned. “With Chris?”
“No…” Ashley sighed. “But she went after him, when I told her. It’s just the two of us left now.”
“That’s not entirely true, Ashley.” Sam looked
up as Harry’s voice came from the doorway.
Clenching his fists, Sam stood and stepped in front of Ashley. “What do you want, Harry?”
The old man chuckled. Moving into the room, he swung the door shut behind him. “I just came to check Christopher got away safely.”
“What?” Sam croaked.
Ashley pulled herself off the bed and stepped around Sam. “Thanks to you, Harry.” Grinning, she patted Sam on the shoulder. “He warned me how the meeting would go. I made sure Chris wasn’t there when they came looking for him.”
Sam blinked, looking from the girl he loved to the old veteran. “You…you…”
“I am sorry for the deception, Samuel,” Harry said quietly. “But I needed your anger to be convincing. They won’t be happy Christopher has escaped, but with luck your display will have them convinced I had nothing to do with it.”
“You used me?” Sam managed to stutter.
“Sorry I didn’t tell you, Sam.” Ashley squeezed his arm. “Harry came to me just before the meeting. There wasn’t any time to warn you.”
Shaking his head, Sam let out a long breath. “They’re not going to be happy.”
“I know.” Harry smiled. “But life is full of disappointments. I just hope Chris is smart enough to get out of the city. We’ll have to send out search parties. They’ll insist on it.”
Sam nodded, but Ashley frowned. “Liz is out there too. That could be dangerous.”
“I will make sure they have instructions to capture only,” Harry responded.
Ashley snorted at that. “I meant for them.” Looking at Harry, her faced turned serious. “What about us?”
Harry sighed. “I think it’s best if you continue to lie low for now,” he said. “It’s not just the refugees who are angry. The public has been deceived for so long, and like it or not, your kind have become the face of that deceit. It’ll be bad enough with just Elizabeth and Christopher out there.”
Ashley frowned. “And what about the President?” She looked from Harry to Sam. “Was there a decision about what to do about him?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Harry replied as Sam pursed his lips. “There’s nothing we can do about him just now. Hopefully he’ll stay where he is until we can restore order to the rest of the country.”
“In that case, we’re going to have to decline your invitation, Harry,” Ashley said. Sam looked across at her, eyebrows raised, but she pressed on without answering his silent question. “Sam and I have a job to do.”
Moving across to the sofa, Harry sat down with a weary groan. Gripping his cane in both hands, he looked up at them, his dark eyes peering out from his wrinkled face.
“You’re thinking about going after him alone,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Yes.” Ashley nodded. Sam looked at her sharply. He opened his mouth to speak, but a glance from beneath her long lashes shut him back up. Her eyes were aglow again. There was no arguing with her when she was like that.
“This won’t be like Alcatraz,” Harry murmured from his chair. “The Director underestimated you—the President won’t make the same mistake. The Kirtland Airforce base can host up to 10,000 active troops. If he’s managed to staff it to even a tenth of its capacity…”
Ashley only smiled. “I wasn’t the one who broke into Alcatraz.” She grinned across at Sam. “We’ll try to be a little more subtle this time.”
“Even so…you can’t honestly think you’ll succeed?” Harry pressed.
“We have to.” Ashley turned the golden glow of her eyes on the old man.
To Sam’s surprise, Harry didn’t so much as blink. “Why?” he questioned. “Why not leave it to us? Haven’t you and your friends done enough already? You revealed the truth, stopped the Director. Why not sit this one out?”
Ashley stared at him for a moment, as though weighing up the idea. Finally, she shook her head. “Because we’ve seen what he’s capable of, Harry. Because I don’t believe we’ll ever be safe while he’s alive. You think he’s sitting there twiddling his thumbs? You think he’ll stop because you have him surrounded?” She blew a strand of hair from her face and went on, “You think he isn’t working on a plan to take back what he’s lost? That he won’t try and make more of us? No, even now he’s probably experimenting on more innocent people, doing anything he can to give himself an edge. We have to end this before it’s too late. And if you can’t act, it’ll have to be us.”
A faint smile crossed Harry’s face as he looked at her. “You know, if I were a gambling man, I might just put money on you pulling it off.” He shook his head, “But you can’t seriously think the two of you can take on a thousand trained soldiers?”
Sam laughed at that. Stepping up beside Ashley, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be one of those men.”
Lifting her head, Ashley stood on her toes and kissed Sam on the cheek, before turning back to Harry. “Wish us well?”
Smiling, Harry leaned forward on his cane and used it to push himself to his feet. Shuffling across the room, he reached out and put a hand on Ashley’s shoulder.
“Always,” he said with a smile.
Chapter 14
Chris sat on the ledge, his legs dangling out over the narrow canyon. His mind was lost in a rush of memories. Beside him, the stream roared over its stony bed and raced out over the edge, plunging down into empty space. There, the swirling winds caught its waters and tore them to pieces. Water swirled down into the canyon, settling on the broken scree and slowly trickling over the rocks to reform the stream below.
Staring into the canyon, Chris watched again their desperate race up the riverbed. Their escape seemed a thousand years ago now, another life. Back then they’d all been so innocent, had still believed in things like mercy and right and wrong. Back then, Liz had begged him to spare Doctor Halt’s life, despite everything the vile man had done to them.
Chris doubted anyone would have stopped him now.
Not that there was anyone left to offer their opinion.
His gaze travelled gradually up the winding valley, to where the jagged hill of scree and boulders leaned against the canyon wall. He remembered their desperate climb up its side, gripping at thorny bushes and wriggling between boulders, only to reach the top and find a sheer rock-face barring their escape.
And he remembered standing on the edge of the cliff with Liz, looking out over the valley, at the guards approaching with their high-powered rifles. Together they had taken a leap of faith, had stepped out into the void and plummeted towards the valley floor. And together they had flown, their new-grown wings halting their fall, propelling them upwards.
One by one the others had followed them, and together Ashley and Sam, Jasmine and Richard and Mira had soared up to join Liz and Chris in the heavens.
Then Ashley had fallen, shot from the sky, and her blood had stained the pure-white snow of the mountains. They’d thought her lost then, but Ashley was a survivor. Now Chris knew, if any of them was going to survive this bloody war, it would be her.
If only the others had been so lucky. Sitting on the ledge, he could almost see the ghosts of his fallen friends, darting through the whirling clouds of water, dancing on the air, free of the horrors of life. A part of him yearned to join them, to fold his wings and hurl himself from the ledge. It would be so easy to end it all, to escape the pain and suffering.
Angrily, he shook his head. Tears streaked his face as he stood. Despite the summer sun, the cold mountain winds bit into his flesh. Ashley had been right. His death would change nothing—it was the coward’s way out. No, he had to go on, had to be strong, endure and make things right.
Lifting his head, sucked in a breath through his nose, tasting the air, searching for the linger sweetness of the Chead. They were lurking somewhere in these mountains. It wouldn’t be long now before he found them.
He had spent the last few days tracking them across the Californian plains. While they left no physical trace of thei
r passage, the sickly sweetness of their aroma hung thick over the countryside. At first, he had struggled to make sense of it—the scent seemed to come from all directions. He soon realised his senses were not deceiving him. The deadly creatures were everywhere now, stalking through the forests, hiding beneath the earth, spreading through the hills. Yet those he’d encountered in his first few days were alone, nothing like the roaming packs described by the refugees flooding into San Francisco.
Alone, an individual Chead was no threat to humanity. But someone—something—had clearly begun organising them. It wasn’t until Chris scented a distant, familiar tang that he guessed the truth.
Hecate.
He still remembered the boy’s words, back in Liz’s country house. Somehow, Hecate had known what lurked out on the Californian plains, about the hordes of Chead waiting to be brought together. Wherever they’d been hiding, Hecate had obviously found them, moulded them to his purpose. The torture he’d suffered at humanity’s hands had lit an awful hatred in Hecate’s heart. He would stop at nothing to have his revenge.
At the top of the cliff, Chris spread his wings and hurled himself off the ledge. He smiled as the crisp mountain air caught in his feathers, propelling him upwards. Unlike his first flight in this lonely canyon, the muscles in his wings and body were in tune now, their adaptation complete. His powerful, high-density muscles tensed and his wings beat down, hurling him upwards. Before, he had struggled just to make the short flight from the valley floor to the clifftops.
Within minutes the valley was left far behind. Chris glimpsed the shining walls of the facility as he flew past, but did not stop. He had no wish to revisit those dark corridors, no desire to see the cell he and his friends had shared for so many weeks and months.
The scent of the Chead drew him on. Lifting higher, he glided between the mountain peaks. He hardly felt the cold now. With the sun high overhead and the muscles all along his body working in concert, he was almost overheating. But it didn’t matter. His quarry was close, his hunt almost at an end.
