Viral Airwaves

by Claudie Arseneault

  Andeal landed with a soft thump and hurried after him. He ran in front of Henry and walked backward, keeping his pace. “I said something wrong.”

  “You promised you wouldn’t try to change my mind again. Couldn’t help yourself anyway?” They’d nearly reached the tunnel. Henry sped up. Andeal stepped in his way and blocked the exit.

  “That wasn’t the point. I swear. Lenz would’ve loved for you to fly this balloon, but I won’t press the issue. I just thought you’d want to know the Lenz Balloon existed. You told me that was all you had in common.”

  Andeal was right about the shared passion and it only made Henry angrier. “Move.”

  Andeal didn’t budge. “There’s something I need to ask of you. A favor.”

  “I leave tomorrow!”

  “But you won’t look into the envelope.”

  “No!” They’d had this discussion already. Next Andeal would speak of his father’s last wish, of how important he’d been to Lenz. Anything to convince him. Henry pushed Andeal aside with surprising strength and strode down the corridor. The engineer winced as he hit the tunnel wall but dogged after him.

  “Can we have it?” he asked.

  Henry slowed and turned around, confused. “What?”

  “Lenz’s old balloon envelope. Could we use it? It’d save us months of work and risky missions to find the right fabric. And it’d be an honor.”

  Passion burnt bright in Andeal’s eyes. He’d finish his pet project and fly it, no matter what. A hot air balloon conceived from Henry’s father’s plans. Henry’s breath caught in the back of his throat. Andeal carried Lenz Schmitt’s last desires better than him. A strong bond had formed while they endured the labs together and it surpassed what little connection Henry felt for his father today. He studied the blue-skinned engineer, then stared at his feet. Andeal was more apt to this task than Henry could ever be.

  “It’s yours. Do what you will with it and the recording sewn inside. Lenz would be proud, I’m sure.”

  He hurried away before this conversation could further deepen the growing void in his belly. All the questions, doubts, and disappointments—his father’s ghost was eating at his tranquil happiness. He had to leave now before the last of it was gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Three sharp knocks at his door startled Henry Schmitt. He stopped packing what little he had to stare at the old wood. Probably Andeal again, here to annoy him. Henry didn’t want yet another reenactment of their dispute. If he stayed silent, perhaps the engineer would go away?

  “Henry, I know you’re here. Please open.”

  Maniel’s voice surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to come and try to talk him out of this decision. She’d always seemed more understanding. Henry hesitated, decided to stay still and silent anyway. After a few seconds she called through again.

  “Andeal said you were leaving tomorrow.”

  “I am,” he said at last. “Nothing you tell me will change that.”

  “That’s fine, Henry. I just scolded my husband for trying.” He could hear the mirth in her tone, the barely-repressed laughter. It brought a slight smile to Henry’s lips. She might’ve been lying, but he was inclined to trust her—more than he did Andeal now. If Maniel had something to tell him, she would be straightforward about it. “Nevertheless, I’m not going away. Don’t turn this into a siege.”

  Henry couldn’t suppress his chuckle. He had no food supplies packed away yet and couldn’t withstand a siege. “I surrender!” he called before he opened the door. “What do you want?”

  Maniel stood in the corridor with a small basket on her arm. Her hair was contained in one long braid and she smiled. “Since this is your last night with us, I wanted to offer you a supper at the summit.”

  “Only racers go to the summit.” No one was allowed to hike Mount Kairn. Henry remembered a time when Ferrys’ government posted guards at the trail’s start to ensure the respect of this long-standing tradition. Broken barriers now stood in the way but they wouldn’t stop anyone serious.

  “There are no more racers, right? I thought you’d enjoy the fresh air.”

  “Yes! Yes I would!”

  “Before, however…I also think you should hear how your father died and why he matters to us.”

  Henry tensed. He wanted to refuse now but his desperate need for a cool breeze crushed his reluctance to discuss Lenz Schitt. Besides, he had a feeling Maniel would be respectful about this—that she wouldn’t use the story as a tool to guilt him.

  “All right. I guess.”

  “Great. We’ll just need to select our dinner first, then.”

  Maniel led him to the kitchens, where they stuffed her basket with dried beef, fresh fruits, a small bottle of Burgian wine, and a few extras. She remained silent as they set out. The path followed an upward slope and she turned at intersections without the slightest hesitation. Her strides were long, determined. Henry soon lost track of the route and relied on her sense of direction. She brought him to a small room with makeshift wooden stairs leading up to a high ledge. The wooden steps had a smooth crease from years of passage, yet another proof of the rebels’ long occupation of these networks.

  After the ladder came the longest tunnel of all. It climbed in a steep and straight line. The electric balls became sparse and Henry advanced in half-light more often than not. His lungs soon burned and his soles complained once more. Maniel, in perfect shape still, waited for him at another intersection. Strands of hair drifted by themselves, casting wavering shadows.

  Wind. Wind caught in her black braid.

  Henry sprinted the remaining distance until he reached the corner and the breeze hit him. The sweet cool air invaded his lungs and refreshed his burdened brain. The bliss from that single draft surpassed that of a pack of instant noodles after days of famine. He let the sensation sink in, eyes closed, arms stretched out. He’d found paradise.

  “You’re not even out yet,” Maniel whispered. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “Wait until powerful gusts of wind buffet you. It’s intense.”

  A few minutes later they reached the exit. The tunnel ended near an abrupt cliff, a dozen feet away from the roaring waterfall. Henry flattened himself against the rock wall, afraid to tumble to a crushing death. The large lake near the hideout’s entrance seemed tiny from here.

  Maniel climbed a narrow set of stairs at their right, deft as a mountain goat. Spray from the waterfall turned the stone steps into a slick trap. Henry built his courage and steadied his feet before he followed. He kept his gaze straight ahead, at the gray clouds above, refusing to glance down. His heart thumped hard in his chest and he saw no need to worsen it. They reached a large platform that remained, by Henry’s standards, too small and close to the edge to his liking. His companion did not have such qualms: she walked to the edge and sat down, her legs dangling above the empty air. He searched for a secure, flat rock and settled down.

  “We come here when we need to feel alive,” Maniel said. “On rare occasions we’ve even jumped into the water below.”

  Henry gulped and closed his eyes. “You should be dead.”

  “Don’t worry, the pond is deep.”

  No body of water was deep enough for a jump of that height. Why would anyone risk their lives for a few seconds of thrill? Henry rummaged through Maniel’s basket and placed the dinner on his stone. Apple, cheese, bread, beef, wine—where to start? As he considered his options, sitting high at the top of Mount Kairn with powerful gusts snapping at his loose shirt, Henry relaxed.

  Maniel stretched, grabbed an apple, then popped his bubble of calm with a single sentence.

  “I’m sorry the message didn’t have what you wanted. You would’ve deserved it.”

  It felt like a stone had landed at the bottom of Henry’s stomach. He forced himself to meet Maniel’s gaze. She understood. The soft sympathy in her tone and the tinge of sadness in her smile was all he needed to know.

  “When he vanished all he left was a note about hi
s precious balloon envelope,” Henry said. “Same as his dying message. I don’t think he ever cared about anything else. Especially not me.”

  “Oh…Henry.” She put a hand on his forearm. “Whatever is on that recording, he wanted to entrust it to you. Not Andeal or me. You.”

  Henry snatched the dry beef and munched on it as he considered her words. She might be right but the very thought angered him. Lenz Schmitt had vanished one day to let him deal with grief and brutal poverty. He couldn’t crash into his life again eight years later, drive him into his mess and expect Henry to be eager to dive in.

  “Andeal called me an ingrate and a coward but…“ He frowned. How to say it? “I like my life simple and safe. Since Captain Vermen broke down my door, it’s been neither. I want all of this to be over.”

  “Tomorrow it will be.” Maniel took a deep breath and turned away, looking into the empty space above the waterfall. “Please leave knowing who Lenz was in the end.”

  Henry rubbed his eyes with shaky hands. He might as well. He had agreed to this story, coming here, and it seemed to matter so much to Maniel. He could listen for her.

  “All right. Tell your story.”

  Maniel rose from her dangling seat and resettled on the rock, closer to him. Her calm and seriousness appeased him. She would dispel this particular mystery without pressuring him into staying.

  “It was cloudy and gray when we escaped, too.” Maniel started in a slow voice. As she spoke, she opened the Burgian wine and poured him a glass. “We hadn’t seen the sun in two years and it hid from us. Your father never had the chance to see it shine again.”

  Henry brought the glass to his lips. He’d wiped his father out of his life a few years ago, but the reminder of his death still made his heart sink. It was no longer a probable reality. It was there, right in his face, and he had to get used to it a second time.

  “The labs are on the western shores of Mikken, in a grounded and disrepaired airship, perched near a cliff. They are isolated and well-guarded. We shouldn’t have escaped. Malnutrition, constant testing, illness, and hopelessness weakened us. Only Andeal thought we’d ever make it out alive. He always believes in such impossible things…”

  Maniel paused to compose herself and steady her voice. Henry kept eating in slow, distracted movements.

  “One day an explosion rocked the laboratories. We never learned what caused it, but when it happened a scientist was in our cell, to force-feed Andeal the silvered water and give me antibiotics. His armed guard stumbled. Lenz crashed into him and stole the weapon while I overtook the tester. It all happened so fast. Suddenly we were running away, our bare feet slapping against the metallic floor. I don’t think we ever discussed a plan. We just…acted. I remember little of the flight. My heart pumping. The doors and corridors filing past, all the same, so endless. Lenz’s deep voice, urging us on. The sliver of hope, threatening to burst through my chest.”

  Henry stopped eating, hanging on her every word. Maniel’s voice faded, and only the waterfall’s roar remained. She bit on her apple, lost in her thoughts for a moment. Henry resisted the urge to press her on.

  “They rang the alarm as we reached the exit. There were so many men, Henry, and they were all armed. They ordered us to stop, to stand down, but once you’ve felt that first draft of freedom…you realize you’d rather die. Your brain is on fire, you don’t think. Not anymore. Because all your instincts are telling you there’s a life out there, past the electric fences or in the water a hundred feet below. We ran for the cliff.”

  The wind freed long strands of her frizzy hair and blew them about. Maniel stared at the plunging waterfall with a haunted expression. Dread constricted Henry’s heart. He squeezed his pants’ fabric to keep his hands steady.

  “Lenz…He didn’t follow. He pressed that rag into Andeal’s hands and told us to find you. He might’ve thought he was already too sick. I remember the sprint to the cliff. The longest hundred meters I ever crossed. Andeal held my hand, pulled me along—forced me along. Twigs dug into my heels but I never slowed. When I looked back your father was running across the field, to the gates. He had the guard’s gun. He barreled straight at them and fired, again and again, until they forgot us and focused on him. They shot him down as we reached the edge and jumped. Tears streaked Andeal’s cheeks. I must have been crying, too.” Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away. Her voice remained steady and she met Henry’s troubled gaze. “Without his sacrifice we would all be dead.”

  Henry’s skull buzzed, the noise covering the deep rumble of water. Maniel’s story was incredible. Lenz Schmitt had been a cold man, a distant paternal figure with whom he’d shared very little. A love for hot air balloons and his mother, at most. He was not a man who gave his life for friends, sprinting toward death. But one did not fake the intensity of Maniel’s sorrow. It had to be true.

  “Maniel…” The shake in his voice scared him. He shivered in the wind. “Why did he leave me? Did he ever…did he ever say?”

  She crossed her legs and stared at the gray sky. A childish part of Henry wanted her to lean over and hug him, but she stayed put. “He often said the Union had to be taken down, no matter the cost. Toward the end of the tests, he became sick. He would cough a lot and I found a buboe near his neck. It seemed to terrify him more than any other test they’d done before. That’s when he wrote the message. He’s doing it again, he’d said, but he never told us what. I’m sorry, Henry.”

  By now the bitter disappointment was a familiar friend. Henry heaved a sigh, finished his glass of wine, and rose to his feet.

  “I’m glad he saved you,” he said. “You’re a better person than he ever was.” He would be glad to put this last week behind him. When Maniel pushed herself up, he raised a hand to stall her answer. “Thanks for the last meal. And the story.”

  Henry headed for the slippery stairs leading into Mount Kairn, but his last words didn’t quite seem enough. Tomorrow he would be gone, leaving them with all the problems his father had tried to thrust upon him. Henry turned and gave one long look at Maniel, standing on the mountain’s summit, her long braid snapping in the wind. She was strong. She would manage. But still…

  “My father believed the winds guide one’s path in life. I hope they stay by your side and keep you on the right one.”

  As he returned to Mount Kairn’s engulfing darkness, he heard Maniel’s ‘thanks’, thick with emotion.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Vermen wrenched control over the wild beating of his heart one long breath at a time. He turned the room’s wooden chair upside down, strained his muscles, and broke one of its legs. The resounding crack shook his bones. He now held a wooden stick, almost two feet long. A weapon for his escape.

  Andeal’s visit earlier had been the last straw. The engineer had come in, all smiles as usual, but he couldn’t stay to chat. He gave Vermen his meal—the size of which got smaller with every passing day—and a warning. Tomorrow the rebels had a meeting to decide his fate. Vermen’s head spun. Who had the final word, he’d asked.

  Seraphin did.

  Leaving the captain with two options: wait for his death sentence or escape tonight and bring the Union’s wrath down on these criminals. An easy choice.

  Vermen called upon his training and focused his thoughts on the here and now. It ought to be nighttime now. He needed to remain alert, at the height of his physical prowess. The rebels might not be numerous but alone and unarmed, he wouldn’t last long. His discipline would see him through.

  He approached the makeshift wooden door and gave it one powerful kick. The planks cracked and splintered but held together. Vermen hit them again and they gave in. The door hung, half-unhinged, parts of it scattered through the corridor. The captain stepped out and glanced to each side. No one. The chain he heard every time someone entered lay on the ground, loose and useless. It had never been tied. What games were they playing with him? Did they want him to escape or did they think he would never even try? Whichever it wa
s, they had made a mistake.

  He wasted no more time on questions and stalked down the tunnel. Only a vague memory of the exit route remained. He could trace his path halfway back to the entrance, and hope something would jog his memory before then. Otherwise…a quick glance at the generic corridor gave him little hope. He should’ve paid better attention.

  Improvised club in hand, Captain Vermen hurried through the rebel compound. The electric balls guided him through the maze, past multiple doors similar to his. His crouched figure cast a long shadow. Voices reached him as a distant echo but he couldn’t estimate where they came from or how far away their owners were. At least the constant roar of the waterfall buried his footsteps.

  He reached a T-intersection and made a left turn. He’d barely advanced before a voice traveled down the length of his tunnel, loud and clear for once.

  “Sure thing, let me get another deck!”

  Vermen held his breath. It wasn’t addressed to him, but the speaker headed his way. He backtracked to a crossroad and flattened himself against the wall, out of sight. The man whistled a careless summer hymn. Excellent. It made his progress easier to track. The captain tightened his grip on the club. Waited.

  Ten steps away. He leaned forward, ready to spring.

  So close. Five steps. No, one now.

  Vermen spun around the corner and swung his club. The rebel’s eyes widened and he raised his black hands. Too slow. The chair leg smacked against his temple, knocked him right out. A deck of cards slipped from his hands and scattered. They traced a strange pattern around his inert form. The captain knelt and pushed away the rebel’s long reddish hair to check his pulse. Still alive. Perfect strike. He flipped the man onto his back to allow more breathing room.

  A knife sheathe at his belt drew his gaze. Vermen’s pulse quickened as he slid the blade out and tested the edge. It nicked his finger. Good quality. His situation kept improving.

  Satisfied, Vermen continued on his previous path. He snuck through the winding tunnels, choosing his path on instinct and memory, careful not to go up or down. His cell and the exit were on the same level, that much he was certain of. He roamed for half an hour, perhaps more, dodging rebels to avoid leaving a trail of bodies. Although it didn’t feel like he walked in circles, he knew it shouldn’t have taken so long.