Flight of Shadows: A Novel

by Brouwer, Sigmund

  As for the metered showers near the communal outhouse, neither could afford them. This was good too. If Theo were clean, then he’d smell Billy at night in the soovie. Or vice versa. Both had to be clean, or both had to carry the sooty stink of their jobs, and then one didn’t notice the other.

  All in all, when they hunkered in for the night, Theo didn’t mind living in a soovie. His prison dorm at the Factory in Appalachia hadn’t been much larger. And for all that it lacked, he now had the one essential he’d risked his life for when he’d escaped the Factory. Freedom.

  Theo savored this every day, even if the freedom came with a price—accepting the leadership of the soovie park’s authorized gang. As long as he followed the rules, he didn’t have to answer to anybody.

  But little Phoenix had broken the rules. Theo didn’t have to wait long to find out why she’d risked so much trouble.

  “Billy,” she said, breaking into a sob that she must have fought hard to muffle as she snuck past the other soovies. “You need to help. The death doctor is coming.”

  FOUR

  A gang of boys, up from the sewers, had found Caitlyn. Distracted her from hunger. Last food she’d had was hours earlier, during a break from cleaning rooms in the Pavilion. Vegetables and crackers and luncheon meat from a barely touched room service tray.

  “What is it?” The boys pointed upward.

  Although one of the small boys below her had whispered, his question reached Caitlyn clearly. She was a gargoyle, hunched on a building ledge a couple of stories off the ground. She remained in a squat, arms around her knees, the hunch of her back against the wall, head tucked down for protection. She’d never felt this alone. Nor this lonely. Not even in the days after her father had first abandoned her in Appalachia. But she did not feel sorry for herself. Loneliness was something to be endured, no different than rain or wind. Or yet another attack.

  She’d hoped the relative darkness and shadows would protect her until the night was so late the streets would be deserted. But the boys passing through this side street had been too sharp-eyed, the glow of the main streetlights too far-reaching.

  When they had gathered below her, she didn’t expect mercy. Illegals, whether as adults or as orphaned children of these street canyons, lived by their own rules. No face tattoos for them.

  “Let’s see if it moves,” another one of the boys answered. Seconds later, a stone bounced off the building’s concrete, just to her left. Then another. And more, until a few struck her arms.

  Caitlyn flinched. No self-pity. But anger. At the boys. At life.

  When she moved, the boys began to jeer. Then pelted her with more stones.

  “A brick,” one of the boys said. “Here’s a brick.”

  Enough, Caitlyn told herself.

  She stood. Balanced on the edge. That quieted the boys for a second.

  “It’s a person!” one laughed. “Get him!”

  More stones. A gang mentality, formed in the very young. One boy tried flinging the brick, but he was not strong enough to get it more than halfway up. When it crashed, all the boys laughed.

  Amusement and diversion.

  She wasn’t afraid of the boys. The oldest could not have been more than nine. She found herself grateful for the distraction. Anger at her situation was a better sensation than loneliness. Fighting in the rain took your mind off the rain.

  A bigger boy found the brick. She didn’t want him throwing it; it could inflict serious injury.

  All right, she thought, I’ll give them something to talk about. Beneath the cloak, she once again pulled the outer layer of her microfabric bodysuit down to her waist. Again, she spread her arms and, in so doing, unfurled the appendages on her back that formed the hideous hunch.

  She allowed herself to fall forward.

  She became a giant shadow, swooping down on them like a bird of prey.

  They scattered, screaming at this supernatural monster. Nothing like this had they seen ever, in or out of the sewers.

  As Caitlyn reached the ground, she passed just over one of the boys and gave a loud, hideous growl.

  He yelped and somehow managed to increase his speed, then disappeared with the others.

  On the ground, she found herself smiling. The growl was a nice touch.

  Her smile ended when someone stepped out from a crevice between buildings. Someone taller than she was. Wider at the shoulders. The glow of the distant streetlights didn’t allow her to see the person’s face. Or even guess at gender. Until he spoke.

  “Great trick,” the male voice said. “How did you do that?”

  “Go away,” Caitlyn answered.

  She gave her answer no thought, and it surprised her.

  In a flash of introspection, she realized that circumstances had changed her. She was not the quiet Caitlyn she’d been as a child, growing up as a freak and an outcast, clinging to the father she adored and to his love, isolated by small communities in the hills of Appalachia in his ultimately futile attempt to hide her existence, and isolated within those small communities because she was so different.

  Thinking of the attack on the rooftop, she knew the former Caitlyn would not have calmly rearranged her clothing before yanking a knife out of a man’s belly.

  What had happened to her?

  She’d survived the hunt that had driven her Outside. Endured her solitude in the city. Facing this unknown man in the alley, she realized she’d become strong and unafraid of the unexpected. In learning who she was, she was no longer broken and ashamed of her freakishness, but proud and defiant, choosing to push aside all emotions except cold anger at what Jordan Brown had inflicted upon her.

  The man was still standing in front of her. She was keenly aware that beneath her cloak, the microfabric was barely more than an extra layer of skin over her upper body and that the second layer was still pulled down, leaving the hunch of her wings exposed except for the cloak.

  “Go away,” she repeated. Her right hand was behind her back, on the hilt of the knife in her sheath, sticky with blood that hadn’t quite dried. If her life had been reduced to survival, she knew how to face the challenge.

  She watched him for a threatening move. After all, he, like the boys, was on the streets past curfew. No facial tattoos. He too was an Illegal. Unlike the boys in the gang she had terrorized into fleeing, he was beyond his teens. His arms and legs seemed odd. Longer than normal. He was thin, like her. Almost, yes, freakish.

  “They call me Razor,” he said. “I’m fast. I’m sharp. I’m dangerous.”

  Caitlyn didn’t like cocky. Most nights she dreamed of Billy Jasper. Who, in Appalachia, had knocked a man off a horse to save her, had later waded into a raging river to keep her from drowning. Quiet, shy. And smarter than he believed he was. Unaware of how much comfort there was in the contrast of his strength and gentleness. “Add stupid to your list.”

  “Stupid?”

  “Fast. Sharp. Dangerous. Stupid. You don’t understand simple English. Go means move. Away means any direction, as long as you put distance between us.” She tightened her grip on the knife. Continued to watch him closely.

  Caitlyn had always been an observer, never a participator. She had a keen eye for detail. It struck her that while Razor was slender and handsome, he was off kilter in a way that wasn’t obvious. Not only the longer arms and legs. His chest seemed slightly misshapen, as if his body had once been like putty, slightly stretched and twisted.

  “I need to know how you did that flying trick,” Razor said. “I’ve got a few of my own. Maybe we can trade. You learn from me. I learn from you.”

  “Go. Away.” She’d just stabbed a man to save her life. She didn’t want to find out she was now willing to pull a knife because of irritation.

  A sound like scuttling rats made him look over his shoulder. Back toward the streetlights at the end of the alley. The boys had returned. With bigger boys. A mob, maybe twenty of them. Caitlyn didn’t have to wait until they were closer to check for facial tatto
os. This time of night, they could only be Illegals. But bigger and more dangerous.

  “There!” came a cry.

  “Don’t run,” Razor said. “They’re like animals. They chase anything that moves. Besides, there’s no place to go. You’ll only be trapped. Our best chance is here.”

  The boys fanned out and moved toward them.

  Caitlyn ignored the warning and spun on her heels. From her ledge, before swooping over the boys, she’d already planned her escape. Down the alley. To a drainpipe to climb. She was light. Had freakishly strong arms. High enough up, she’d cross over from the drainpipe to a steel fire escape on the exterior wall. And from there, a climb to freedom.

  But Razor was faster than she’d expected, almost beside her. “I’m telling you, don’t run.”

  At the drainpipe, she leapt and caught it with both hands.

  And felt herself yanked down by her cloak. She barely managed to land on her feet. By then, the pursuing boys had closed the gap. Razor had pulled her down.

  “Idiot!” she hissed. No time to make it up the drainpipe.

  Razor had turned his back to her. Guarding her against the gang that pressed closer. Maybe four or five steps of space. But now that they had Caitlyn and Razor trapped, the Illegals were leisurely in their caution. Some carried short lengths of pipe. Others, knives.

  “Think we’ve got some Influentials slumming it?” one of the taller boys asked his companions.

  “One of them’s the one that dropped from the ledge,” came a high-pitched voice. “That’s all I know.”

  “Back off,” Razor told the tall one. “You’ll be the first one hurt.”

  “Here? We own this place at night.”

  “Think so?” Razor reached into his pocket. He snapped on a small flashlight and pointed it at his face and grinned wolfishly.

  “Razor!” their leader said.

  “Fast, sharp, and dangerous,” he answered.

  “We didn’t know. Don’t do nothing, all right? We were only having fun.”

  Razor made a shooing gesture with his hand. They began to move away, without turning their backs on Razor.

  Then a strobe of red and blue filled the alley, and the slow movement of the Illegals became full flight again, leaving Caitlyn and Razor trapped in the headlights of a fast-approaching Enforcer vehicle.

  It screeched to a stop. The doors were flung open. A cop on each side leaned over the doors, each pointing a shotgun at the two of them.

  FIVE

  There was no need to worry about being caught breaking curfew—when Billy and Theo and Phoenix arrived at her mother’s soovie, about a dozen people had surrounded it. Some carried lanterns, casting eerie shadows on the other soovies in line up and down the row.

  “No!” Phoenix wailed. “He’s there already!”

  She pulled Billy to the back of the crowd.

  Billy was taller than anyone and, over the heads of the crowd, saw through the windows of Phoenix’s soovie. Her mother had earned money as a prostitute; she could afford glass windows. Inside, the silhouette of a crouched figure.

  The death doctor?

  “Phoenix,” Billy said. Billy felt Theo close at his side. “Are you sure you understand why he’s there?”

  “Yeah,” Theo said. His neck was skinny and made his head look big. The heavy glasses that were wider than his face added to the illusion. “People just don’t let other people die.”

  In Appalachia, anyone who was sick got help from a doctor. Phoenix, half crying, had told them her mother was too sick, and now the doctor was supposed to kill her.

  Phoenix tugged on the shirt of a man in front of them. He turned around, his face a scowl. He was middle-aged, a pattern of shadows from the lanterns across a balding forehead. “I was here before you.”

  But he backed away slightly, seeing Billy’s size.

  “Tell Billy,” Phoenix said, instructing the man. “The death doctor is here to make my mother die, right?”

  “Leave me alone.” He tried to melt back into the crowd.

  Billy was so aware of his bulk that he hated to even raise his voice. Yet Phoenix was more important than self-consciousness. He reached with his right hand and grabbed the middle-aged man by the shoulder and spun him back.

  “Tell me about the death doctor.” Billy squeezed his fingers on the man’s shoulder. “Is Phoenix right?”

  “Hey!” The man clutched uselessly at Billy’s hand, trying to pull it loose. “This ain’t fair. I’m going to bring this to Vore. He’ll fix you for getting in the way.”

  “What is the doctor doing in there?” Billy asked. Other people had turned to watch them. “Why is everybody here after curfew?”

  Having others take notice of the conversation seemed to take some of the fear out of the man. “Think we’re here for fresh air? Her things are going to be divided up. And don’t try to change the order of the line. I was here before you. So you’re going to have to wait till I’ve had a good look at what she’s got.”

  Billy was constantly afraid he misunderstood people. It’s why he was usually slow to reply in conversation and why, he knew, people thought he was stupid. If they didn’t say something directly, he’d puzzle over the words until he was satisfied that he knew whether they were using an expression or being sarcastic.

  Billy didn’t have time for that now. He wanted a clear answer. “Is the doctor going to kill her?”

  The man screamed, drawing more attention. Billy realized that in his frustration he’d squeezed too hard. He released his grip slightly, and the man jerked away.

  “He can’t kill her soon enough,” the man said, looking around him for support. “And don’t think Vore is going to let you get away with pushing us around.”

  Billy was already knocking his way through the crowd, ignoring cries of complaint. He was aware that Theo and Phoenix had followed.

  At the soovie, Billy knocked on the window. The figure inside was holding an extended needle.

  “She’s not dead yet,” the doctor snarled, his voice clear through the closed glass windows. “Give her some respect at least.”

  “Mommy!” Phoenix cried. “Mommy!”

  Whimpering from the woman.

  “Leave her alone,” Billy said, his face close to the glass.

  “You’re kidding, right? Or are you an idiot?”

  “Open the door.”

  “Go away.”

  Howls of protest came from behind Billy. He didn’t care. He opened the door and reached inside. Clutched at the doctor’s arm. Succeeded in yanking away the arm with the needle. He didn’t let go and started to pull the man out of the soovie.

  “Here comes Vore!” someone shouted.

  Billy kept pulling. He reached in with his second hand to get better traction. He turned the doctor sideways and managed to get the doctor’s head and part of his shoulders out of the soovie. Billy felt a pinprick of pain, but ignored it. Until he realized there was a needle in his forearm. Billy dropped his second hand and snapped the needle off at the base.

  He resumed pulling. Without anger. He simply needed this man away from Phoenix’s mother. Once this fight was finished, he’d turn to the next fight. Even if that meant Vore.

  “Billy! Billy! Billy!” It was Theo, with rapid pulls at Billy’s shirt. “This is serious.”

  The silence of the crowd behind him told Billy that something had changed. He still didn’t quit until he’d managed to pull the doctor out completely.

  Phoenix jumped up and crawled inside. “Mommy. Mommy.”

  More whimpering, but the sounds changed to comfort. Phoenix pulled the door shut.

  Billy turned away from the soovie. Coming through the crowd was a man his size, but with a huge belly. Shaved bald. With five men, nearly as big, in formation behind him, like geese in flight, except much more ponderous and deliberate.

  “Lock it,” Billy said to Phoenix. “Don’t let anyone back in.”

  Billy shut the soovie door and turned to Vore.

/>   “I’ve been wondering when you’d try something,” Vore said. He held up his hand, commanding his gang to stop. “Guys like you join a soovie park, and sooner or later you think you can take the top position.”

  Theo stepped forward, between Vore and Billy. “He’s just helping the woman.”

  Vore snorted. “You’re the kid who walks around talking to himself all day. How about you get out of here before I snap you like a chicken bone.”

  “Just listen,” Theo said. “He’s not here to run a gang. The little girl came to us because—”

  Vore slapped at Theo, knocking him down like a mosquito. “Shut up.”

  Billy reacted. Didn’t try to think it through like usual. Just reacted. He took the half step to cover the distance to Vore. He brought his hand back to punch.

  Vore smiled. Almost a leer.

  Theo wobbled to his feet. He jumped on Billy’s arm. Hung on it.

  “Don’t,” Theo said, gasping. “They’ll kill us.”

  At least that’s what Billy thought Theo was saying. Theo’s voice sounded hollow.

  Billy’s arm was a solid rock, unwavering with Theo’s weight on it.

  “Billy,” Theo said. “I lost my glasses. But don’t worry. I’m not hurt. Don’t fight.”

  Which to Billy was a lie. Theo was hurt. His nose was sideways, red with gore. Billy lowered his arm. He was blinking, trying to figure out what to do. All of this had happened so fast. He was all right with what might happen to him next. He’d been hurt before and wasn’t afraid of pain. But it wasn’t right that Theo might suffer.

  The other five had taken advantage of the distraction to surround them.

  “Hey, Vore!” the man Phoenix had first asked to explain the death doctor to Billy was shouting. “Kill them! We get to divide their stuff too, right?”

  Vore swung his head sideways and silenced the man simply by staring.

  Billy squinted. It actually looked like a second Vore was standing in front of him. A dull roar seemed to fill his ears.

  Vore, both of them in his vision, tilted slightly.