Viral Airwaves

by Claudie Arseneault

  They stood in an uncomfortable silence. A batch of straw-yellow hair topped the stranger’s head and sweat rolled down his cheeks. Long leather coats weren’t meant for summer. His blue eyes stood out, matching the skin’s color. Henry followed their gaze as it fell upon the pistol.

  “Is that Seraphin’s?” he asked. “Bone handle, red string…it is! How could he forget his skeptar?”

  “Ask him.”

  “Already did, kind of. He won’t tell me anything about his face-off with Captain Vermen. I don’t need to know, apparently.” The blue man lifted his right hand from his arm. In the dim light, the blood on his gloves shone black.

  “Did I actually hit?” Henry couldn’t tell if that would make him proud or terrified.

  “A splinter grazed my arm. More scared than hurt, though. You hit the door.” He pointed at the hole in the broken wood. “I’m glad you can’t aim. Can we go inside and talk? I swear I’m not here to hurt you, or I wouldn’t have stood on your doorstep for hours!”

  Everything about this was so incongruous. A friend of Seraphin clad in suspicious black clothes had waited for him and now he assured him all he wanted was a talk. A talk! Yet something about his genuine smile washed away Henry’s earlier terror—or perhaps his life had just passed some sort of weirdness threshold and he no longer cared.

  “Sure. Why not? It’s not like I just shot you.”

  His new companion possessed a good sense of humor. He laughed and gestured for Henry to lead the way through the broken door. They sat at the counter, where he’d shared a meal with Seraphin. The man’s pistol rested between them. Nothing abnormal there either.

  “I’m Andeal,” the blue man said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  Finally? It didn’t make any sense. The evening’s frustration and stress kicked in. He cut the chase short. “What do you want?”

  Andeal reached into the enormous pocket of his coat and brought a framed picture out. Henry, with his dad and the balloon. The picture shook in his hands and he couldn’t keep his voice from trembling as he spoke. “Seraphin gave it to me. You said this was your dad, and he flew the balloon?”

  “Yes.”

  Could this get any stranger? Stolen pictures, unexpected topics and Andeal’s unexplainable excitement.

  “Lenz Schmitt, right?”

  Andeal held the picture at arm’s length, inches away from Henry’s face. Annoyed, Henry shoved it away. Why did it matter?

  “Yeah.”

  Andeal slammed the frame down and brought Henry into a tight but brief embrace. It was finished the moment it started, leaving Henry dazed. Relief showed through every muscle of Andeal’s body. He pulled his gloves off then ran a hand through his hair. His palms were a paler blue than the rest of his skin. Andeal seemed to be struggling for words.

  “This is fabulous. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Henry studied the picture and pushed it away as his stomach twisted. Eight years, and for the first time, someone had information on Lenz Schmitt. He’d given up a long time ago. Did he want to hear it now? To get involved with Andeal and his eager grin?

  “No. I’m done with all of this. Seraphin, the captain, my father…I don’t want to hear any of it.”

  “Not…anything?”

  Andeal’s smile vanished as he tried to swallow the words. Henry avoided his incredulous stare, walked around the counter and reached for the cucumbers’ bag. His sausage-fingers let one of the vegetables slip twice but Henry fished for it again. His hunger grew as this conversation progressed, along with his frustration. He wanted that cucumber.

  “None of it.” Was it so hard to understand? Henry grabbed a knife, set the cucumber on the counter, and sliced through it. “He disappeared from my life eight years ago and never gave any news. I spent years opening the mailbox every morning hoping I’d see his handwriting. Thousands of tourists filed past my house for the Races, and I watched them. Maybe one would walk up to me and share a few kind words from him. Maybe they’d tell me he’d come back, that he didn’t mean to abandon me. But no!” He cut faster and faster, his cheeks flushed. “He entrusted me with the balloon and let me deal with the questions and the grief. He cared more about that stupid envelope than he ever did about me. Do you know how hard it is to wipe your father out of your life even when you know he’s out there?”

  “Yes.”

  Henry froze. He hadn’t expected an answer to his rhetorical question. Even less an affirmative one.

  “So does Lenz,” Andeal said. “He talked about you all the time. He never forgot you.”

  “Then he should’ve returned earlier!” Henry gave one big slice into the cucumber then slammed the knife down. He pushed the slices onto a small plate. His head buzzed. He didn’t want to hear any of it, it was too hard. A change of subject was in order. “It’s too late. Tell me about you instead.”

  “If I do, you’ll learn information the Union intends to keep silent. Are you sure you want to get involved deeper in this?”

  Henry bit into a cucumber slice, as though its freshness could clear his mind. He glanced at his broken door. How long before the Union found him? What would they do to him?

  “You’re afraid. We can protect you,” Andeal said. “We could make you disappear until everything calms down. Seraphin’s been off the grid for six years now and they haven’t caught him.”

  “What do you call that night then? That captain came one finger itch away from putting a bullet in his forehead.”

  Andeal smirked. He’d baited him into commenting on the evening and Henry fell for it. Time to wipe that smug expression off his face.

  “Perhaps he should’ve. It’d be one less murderer on this earth and I wouldn’t have a freaky blue man knocking at my door with ghost stories of a father who couldn’t be bothered to send a single message to his only son. Just the one! Saying he was okay and he did love him despite dumping him the morning after his mother died!”

  The smile did vanish, replaced by a glare. Andeal’s angry expression brought Henry no satisfaction.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Did it ever cross your tiny brain that if Lenz didn’t send word, it might be because he couldn’t? That maybe something bad had happened and he was going through living hell with said freaky blue man? That sending mail when you’re in a minuscule cell isn’t exactly a possibility? But the best part is that he did write a message and get it out.” Andeal drew an old rag from his coat’s pocket and slapped it on the counter. Then he slid off his stool and cast Henry one sorely disappointed look. “Here it is. Who would have thought that when I’d finally find Lenz Schmitt’s son, I’d discover a man too afraid of his own shadow to even hear his father’s last words?”

  A hundred different retorts jostled in Henry’s mind but they all vanished when Andeal finished his rant. He put down the cucumber slice he was about to eat.

  “Last words?”

  “He’s dead, Henry. Shot down by Union soldiers.”

  Shot.

  Every bit of information Andeal let slip about his father made it sound as though he was part of something complicated and scary—as though he’d been more than a grief-ridden shopkeeper who’d run away. Part of him wanted to ask about it, to know what Andeal meant by ‘living hell’ and how his father had wound up in a cell. What if there was more to this story? Maybe he’d done it for Henry, or for his mom, and there was a way to explain everything. But how could anything justify disappearing without a single word? With nothing but that enraging note? No. Henry didn’t owe it to his father to get involved. He refused to stir that hornet’s nest. The last few days had filled his adventure quota for years.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll add a symbolic grave next to my mother’s, that way he will have visited it at least once.”

  Andeal’s expression morphed into one of disgust. He put his gloves back on with angry, jerky movements.

  “Your father was a hero. It kills me to see his son is a spineless coward.�
�

  Henry tapped on the counter with his index finger. Guilt had worked up a large lump in his throat. He was being a horrible son, but then again, Lenz Schmitt had never been a great father either. He had abandoned him. This, Henry repeated to himself, was a fitting end to their relationship. So why did his eyes always return to the rag?

  As Andeal pulled his hood back up, the squeal of tires traveled down the slope from Ferrea. Henry’s stomach clenched. He had expected that sound for two days and knew right away what it was.

  “Union soldiers.” Andeal grabbed his forearm. “Please come with me. Giving me this message is almost the last thing your father did. I protected it and I can protect you, too.”

  Henry tore his gaze from his windows and the sound of impending doom. “And leave Ferrea?”

  “You can stay and tell them what you know and pray they believe you’re innocent, if you prefer.” A tight fear was growing in Andeal’s voice, as though the very idea scared him. “I wouldn’t. When they cuffed me I vanished from existence for two horrible years. I’m not waiting around for it to happen again.”

  Vanishing didn’t sound like any fun to Henry. Even less than leaving Ferrea.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  He said the second ‘okay’ more forcefully, to give himself the courage to move. While Andeal shoved the pistol, the rag with his father’s message, and his family portrait in a sack, Henry hurried to get a change of clothes. He grabbed whatever he could, threw it inside on top of everything else, then muttered a third “Okay”. They slipped through the back door as tires screeched to a halt in front of Henry’s house.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Henry set his back against the rough trunk of a birch tree and slid to the ground. The past hours had brought the discovery of new muscles in his legs. His soles burned and his mouth had turned drier than Ferrea’s streets after a month of harsh sun. Every new step increased his hatred of walking. Too much of it packed in a single day. He refused to go on.

  “Tired?” Andeal stood over him. His breath was a little short, but he showed no other signs of fatigue. He smirked as Henry fought to calm his panicking heart.

  “You said we didn’t have far to go!”

  Once they were certain there was no pursuit, Andeal had let him sleep as best as he could on the hard ground. They had set off again in the morning, Henry grumbling while his strange companion walked with a new skip to his steps. He had assured Henry it wasn’t a long walk.

  “Indeed. We’re already halfway there,” Andeal said.

  “Only halfway?”

  Henry groaned. He would not stand and continue now. How could Andeal not tire? Did he train for hours every day? This hike through the forest was torture. Henry had to delay their next departure. Even if it meant breaking the avoid-all-serious-topics truce he’d established with Andeal since they’d fled. Henry picked the only thing he could think of that did not concern his father.

  “How can you be friends with Seraphin? They accused him of murder on the radio. Vermen said the same, too.”

  “I don’t approve of what he did and Seraphin knows it.” Andeal let his pack slide to the ground. A good sign. “Family and ancestors are everything to Regarians, however. I understand why he’d go after the man who exterminated his.”

  Henry had no desire to know the story. The hatred between the two men had shaken his household once and that was more than enough. Learning more might help him avoid sinking in deeper into this mess, however.

  “I told you about what happened in my house,” he said. “Won’t you trade that for their tale?”

  “No. I tricked you into giving me that information. Besides, you were there to witness. I didn’t know Seraphin when he shot Vermen’s brother. It’s not my place to talk about it.”

  “At least I know he shot him,” Henry muttered. “Anything else interesting you’d care to share?”

  “I’d tell you how I met your father, but you don’t want to know.”

  Henry ignored the reproachful tone and raked his brain for another topic to keep them busy. One look at Andeal offered an obvious idea.

  “Why are you blue?” he asked.

  Instead of answering, Andeal shuffled from one foot to the other. More than once, he opened his mouth to begin a sentence, only to close it a second later. Henry waited. He had all day.

  “When I was a student at the Altaer University, Union soldiers arrested me for participating in a large protest that turned violent. They never released me.” He paused, ran a hand through his blond hair. “Instead they brought us—that’s how I met Maniel, my wife, and your father—to some kind of laboratory and experimented on us. Among other things, they put silver flakes in everything I drank. Maniel is convinced that’s how my skin turned blue.”

  Fight as he might against it, Henry could not dismiss the information about Lenz. “So my father’s skin…”

  “No. Just me.”

  They fell into an uneasy silence. Andeal wrung his hands together and Henry felt bad for pushing the topic. The haunted expression on his companion’s face said more than words could. He ought to distract him.

  “Do you have water?”

  “Always.”

  Andeal rummaged through his pack, brought a large bottle out, and threw it his way. Henry caught it, pulled the stopper out and drank. The water refreshed his parched mouth. He savored the moment and forgot his hurting feet.

  “If you want a break, you could just say so.”

  “I’d sleep here and never move again if you let me.”

  “Ten minutes, then?” Andeal asked.

  Henry agreed and stretched his legs forward. Tree trunks turned out to be more comfortable than expected. He closed his eyes and let himself relax. They’d walked south for hours, into the thick forest and straight toward Mount Kairn. Andeal avoided the road but never once stopped to decide which path to follow. They snaked between the trees, following a trail only his guide could see.

  No matter how often he asked, Andeal kept mute about their final destination. No village decorated the slopes of Mount Kairn. Nothing but trees and the murderous trail used every year in the Race. Where was the man leading him?

  “Ready to start again?” Andeal asked.

  “So soon?”

  His companion laughed and sprang to his feet. “I’m afraid so. Come on, we’ve got to be there before sunset.”

  Henry grumbled but struggled to his feet nonetheless. His aches returned with the first step but he kept going. Andeal had promised a comfortable bed and a warm supper. He’d endure four more hours of torture for it. He had little choice: returning to Ferrea implied the same effort but in the other direction.

  They advanced into the thickest area of the forest. Pine trees closed around him. Their branches reached for his face and clawed at his shirt while the sprawling roots hidden by the thick undergrowth threatened to trip him. Henry struggled with every step and swatted at the mosquitoes that buzzed around his head.

  Pine needles obscured the sun’s ray, but Andeal’s shape remained visible in the dim light. He moved with ease, unbothered by insects or plants. Henry worked hard to keep the pace. His guide stopped when he fell too far behind. The road’s increasing difficulty pushed Henry’s mind into escaping the suffocating trees by recreating his father’s mysterious life.

  Lenz Schmitt had loved the open skies and entrusted his faith to the changing winds. How had he fared locked up in a cell? How long had he spent there? Henry tried to find comfort in the idea that, without the imprisonment, he would have given his son more than radio silence. Perhaps he’d even have returned home. The message might say. The thought gave him hope and when the ground began a steady upward slope, Henry attacked it with renewed strength. The space between the trees increased and their progress sped. Andeal led him to a stream bouncing its way downhill and followed it up. A quick look through the foliage confirmed Henry’s suspicions. They headed straight for Mount Kairn’s peak.

  What could it mean? They had nowher
e to live there. As he raked his head for an answer, the stream’s steady run turned into a low rumble. Henry identified the landmark right away: the Delgian’s Fall. They’d gone around the mountain and now traveled along its southern flank. With a good vantage point they’d be able to peer into Burgian territory and follow the Delgian’s course—a splendid view Henry rarely enjoyed. The majestic waterfall inspired many artists but it was too far from his house. He’d admired it once, from the basket of his father’s balloon.

  Never by foot. Never from so close.

  Amazement gripped his heart as he emerged from the forest. A monster of water roared in front of him. The strong current tumbled down the cliff and crashed into a great white mist. The setting sun cast a red light on the scene. Henry stopped walking, stopped breathing. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.

  “Home sweet home,” Andeal said.

  “You’re blue, not a fish. Nobody lives on Mount Kairn.”

  “True enough. About twenty of us live inside it.”

  Andeal patted Henry’s back and strolled closer to the large pool at the waterfall’s foot. He followed its edge to the cliff’s face as Henry remained rooted, grounded by awe. Only when his guide called did he move with a start. He joined Andeal in front of a strange dent in the rock, invisible from farther away. It led into an imperceptible crevice and a set of carved stairs.

  “Hurry up,” Andeal said. “We might be late for dinner.”

  Best incentive ever. Henry ignored his companion’s warning about slippery rock and climbed the steps two by two, hands on the stone wall to keep from stumbling. His empty belly ushered him into a newer, stranger life.

  * * *

  Despite Andeal’s words, Henry didn’t believe anyone lived under Mount Kairn until he reached the entrance and saw the string of white globes that lit the way. They followed a corridor and plunged deep into the mountain. A simple guide into the heart of a strange man’s home. Henry glanced back at Andeal. His father’s friend was beaming at him, like a child barely containing his thrill. The enthusiasm he’d restrained ever since their fight put Henry ill at ease. Why was he so happy to have him? If Andeal expected great things out of him he would be, once again, sorely disappointed.