by Aaron Hodges
Either way, it was too late to second guess the decision now.
Gritting his teeth against the wind howling through the canyon, Chris picked his way over the rocky ground, taking care to avoid the patches of ice. The stones were slick beneath his feet, worn smooth by the passage of floodwaters, but at least they did not hurt. Above them the canyon walls closed in, stretching up two, almost three hundred feet.
Stone ground against stone as the others followed close behind him, the rocks shifting beneath their weight. To their right the river tumbled over its stony bed, roaring as it rushed down a series of cascades, making its journey through the twisting canyon. During the Spring it would rise, filling the gorge, but in the icy winter air it remained thankfully low.
Chris’s gaze carried up the valley, following the sheer walls as they twisted around and out of sight. He scanned the ground ahead, picking out a trail amidst the rock-strewn ground. He was quickly adapting to the weight of his wings. His muscles surged with a newfound energy, with the joy of freedom. Behind them the mouth of the canyon was empty, but even so he picked up the pace, springing from stone to stone with hardly a pause in between. The thought of the guards and their guns drove him on. Though they were moving at a good pace, their pursuers did not have to catch them – only get them within range of their rifles.
Redoubling his efforts, Chris felt the towering granite cliffs pressing in around him. From somewhere ahead the roar of the water grew louder. Like distant thunder it drew him on, called them deeper into the mountains. Sucking in great mouthfuls of damp air, Chris raced for the first bend in the canyon.
Boulders the size of cars littered the ground. Where the canyon narrowed they clustered in groups, almost blocking their passage. They scrambled over them one by one, slipping on the damp surfaces while the others watched, waiting for their turn.
Chris’s ears tingled as a voice carried up the canyon. Acting on instinct, he grabbed Liz and pulled her behind a boulder, waving for the others to follow. An instant later the shriek of bullets tore the air, followed by the sharp crack of shattered rock. Cowering behind the boulder, they watched as a boulder where they’d been standing disintegrated beneath a hail of bullets. Hot lead tore great chunks from the stone, dotting the surface of the boulder with pock-marks.
For a moment, Chris stood frozen, terrified by the sheer display of power. In his mind he saw himself caught by the bullets, saw his flesh tear and his bones shatter. Then Liz grasped him by the shoulder and shook him back to reality. He blinked, found her crystal eyes staring at him, just a few feet away, and taken by an impulse, he pulled her close.
They kissed, hard and fast, the moment filled with a desperate passion, the thrill of a chase. A second later they pulled apart and turned to face the others. Richard raised an eyebrow, but Chris ignored him. The first bend in the canyon was close now, just a few more yards away. But the open space would leave them exposed to the guards at the base of the pass, to their unforgiving bullets.
Yet they had to move. No doubt men were already climbing towards them, growing closer with every passing minute.
“We run for it,” was all Chris said before he turned and leapt from cover, unwilling to wait and see whether the others followed.
The buzz of bullets turned to a roar as he stepped into the open. Then he was racing across the open ground, stones slipping beneath his bare feet, faster than thought. With each step the shriek of bullets grew louder, the guards far below narrowing their aim. Stone chips tore his flesh as the thud of bullet impacts shook the ground beneath him. He ducked low, the hackles on his neck rising in anticipation of pain.
Then his wings were out, beating hard, driving him faster. He stumbled as he miscalculated his next jump, almost falling before recovering with a wild wave of arms. Liz bounded past, flashing him a sideways glance. But he was already up and beside her, pushing hard, lungs burning not with exhaustion, but fear. Around him he heard the gasps of the others, their desperate, unintelligible cries.
And over it all, the screech of bullets.
Then suddenly the air was clear, the cliff rising up to shield them from view. Together they drew to a stop, sucking in long mouthfuls of air, their wild eyes looking around at each other, shocked and elated, thrilled by their survival.
They did not pause for long though. They had won a respite, but they were still far from free. Ahead the canyon narrowed, the twists and turns coming closer together, and for the next thirty minutes they did not see their pursuers again. The stones grew larger around them, until only boulders remained. The giant rocks packed the gorge, the creek threading its way between them, over and under, plunging down towards the valley far below. The roar of distant water continued to grow, and the taste of the air changed, filling with moisture. In his mind, Chris pictured the stream cascading over a series of boulders, down into the canyon, and prayed it would offer them an escape.
Gathering his strength, he pressed on, drawing the others with him. The canyon floor grew steeper, winding up towards the clifftops high overhead. Their progress slowed as the way became more difficult, even backtracking where the way grew too steep, too treacherous to pass.
Striding around another bend in the canyon, Chris found his stride slowing as he took in the sight. Beside him, Liz continued her upward march, head down, eyes fixed on the ground. Around them the roar of water had turned to a deafening thunder, but it was only when he reached out and grabbed Liz by the shoulder that she looked up; that she saw where he had led them.
34
Chris had not been wrong about the waterfall. Three hundred feet above their heads, a river rushed over the edge of the cliff and out into the void. Water filled the air, whirling as the booming wind caught it, turning it to a fine mist, to a light rain that fell around them, settling on their clothes and skin. At the base of the falls, the remains of the river crashed down onto a jagged pile of rocks. From there the stream wound its way down the canyon to where the seven of them stood.
Beyond the waterfall, the canyon twisted back on itself, ending in an abrupt wall of sheer rock. A pile of rubble had accumulated against the cliff opposite the waterfall, stretching up around two hundred feet. Straggly patches of vegetation sprouted from the rubble, no doubt fed by the ready source of water.
Chris closed his eyes, feeling the spray of water on his cheeks, even where they stood some four hundred feet away. It settled in his hair and trickled down his face, until he gave an angry shake of his head and wiped it away. He clenched his fists, shivering with cold and frustration.
There was no way they could climb those cliffs, no way they could reach the top.
He had led them to a dead end, to a trap. And with the guards closing in from behind, there was nowhere left to go.
Looking at the others, he saw his despair reflected in their faces. Only Ashley seemed undaunted. She moved up beside him, her eyes travelling up the canyon, to the pile of rubble. He turned, following her gaze, straining to see through the mist. A pile of jagged boulders clustered around the top of the rubble and the cliffs above them were cracked and broken. At some point the cliffs must have given way, and now a shadow stretched up from the rubble. From the distance, there was no telling for sure, but it looked like a crack they might be able to climb.
“Let’s go,” Ashley flashed him a smile as she strode past, taking the lead.
Chris was glad to relinquish his position. The weight of failure hung heavy on his shoulders. The others did not speak, but he could feel the eyes of Jasmine and Richard on his back. Ahead, Ashley seemed to glide across the rocks, moving with a grace Chris wished he could match. She reached the rubble mound well before the rest of them, and started to climb.
Following her, Chris only managed a few steps before the loose gravel slipped beneath his feet. He threw out an arm, grasping at the branches of a dishevelled bush, then screamed as thorns tore the skin of his palm. Cursing, he regained his balance and released the bush, only then daring to look at his hand.
The mist closed in around them as they climbed, quickly soaking them to the skin. Chris shivered as a drop of water ran down his back and caught in the clustered feathers of his wings. A tingle ran up his spine as a thought came to him then. Angela’s words in the clean room rang in his mind. The feathered appendages trembled in response, as though reading his thoughts.
Fly!
Chris shook his head, casting the idea back out into the void. With the wind howling through the canyon, and the cliffs pressing close, the idea was suicide.
As they neared the top of the mound, the wind picked up speed. It howled down over the cliffs to pummel at them, tearing at their wings and threatening to send them plummeting to the rocks far below. Above, the river continued its eternal plunge over the granite cliffs, filling the air with swirling clouds of water vapour.
A cry came from above. Chris looked up in time to see Ashley slip, then threw himself to the side as a rock crashed down towards him. He shouted a warning to the others as it thumped past, but thankfully they had spread out, and it tumbled harmlessly past them.
Returning to the climb, he watched Ashley recover and continue her ascent, favouring her left hand now. But she was already drawing level with the boulders ringing the crown of the slope. Picking up his pace, Chris soon joined her at the base of the boulders. Together they turned to watch as the others joined them.
Once the seven of them had gathered on the narrow ledge, they turned to face the boulders. Here Ashley took the lead again, squeezing in between two of the boulders. The way was narrow, and the extra bulk of their wings didn’t help, but Chris managed to slide his way after Ashley. Ahead, the crevice came to an end at another boulder, but Ashley was already making short work of scrambling up, using the rock on either side of her to climb.
Chris waited for her to reach the top before following. The sharp pitch of the boulders and his injured hand made it difficult to find purchase. Cursing to himself, he pressed against the rocks to wedge himself in place, and then slowly began to lift himself up.
When he reached the top, Ashley was already gone. Following her wet footprints through the boulders, his optimism began to return. If they could just wedge themselves into the crack in the cliff, they might scramble their way up in the same way they had just managed. It would be a long and difficult haul – at least a hundred feet remained to be climbed, but it was something.
He stumbled as the rocks around him gave way to open ground, and he found himself in the centre of the ring of boulders. Across from him, he found Ashley with her head pressed against the cliff, fists clenched against the sheer stone. She turned as he approached, her eyes finding his.
Chris’s stomach twisted as Ashley slid down the cliff wall until she sat and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved as silent sobs shook her, and tears spilt between her fingers.
Behind her the cliff stretched up towards the sky, smooth and unmarked, the shadow they had thought was a crack no more than a change in the rock, a darker shade of granite.
They were trapped.
35
Liz paused as she emerged from the boulders and found Chris and Ashley slumped against the cliff. Their faces were ashen, their eyes despondent, and she knew in that instant they were finished. Her shoulders sagged, but she moved across to Chris and placed a hand on his head. He did not look up, just stared at the barren gravel.
Crouching down, Liz pulled him to her chest. Gravel rattled as Sam appeared beside her. He squatted by Ashley, whispering softly to her, pulling her up, getting her moving again. Trapped or not, there was no time to pause, to sit and wait for death to come for them.
“I’m sorry,” Chris murmured.
Liz slid her fingers through his hair and down to his chin. She turned him to face her. “This isn’t your fault, Chris. You were right, this was our best chance. If we’d gone the other way, they would already have caught us. Now get up. We have to decide what to do next.”
It took several tugs on Chris’s arm before he gathered himself and regained his feet. By then Sam had Ashley looking more herself, though Liz suspected it was no more than a brave face. But then, that’s all any of them had left now.
“So, what now?” Jasmine crossed her arms, eyes flashing as she looked around the circle. “I’m not going back.”
Beside her Richard nodded.
Liz shivered, thinking of the guards creeping up the canyon towards them, of the black steel of their rifles.
No, we can’t go back.
To go back now would be worse than if they’d never escaped. They had tasted freedom, rid themselves of the awful collars, breathed the fresh mountain air. And freezing though they were, with their wings drawn tight around their torsos, they were alive.
“There’s nowhere left to go,” Chris’s voice cracked.
“Then we fight,” Sam put in, his brow creased. Liz had never seen him so serious.
Around the circle, the others nodded, but Liz found herself shaking her head. Moving past them, she climbed up the closest boulder, until she was perched atop it. Looking down, she stared out over the gorge, peering through the swirling mist, seeking out their pursuers. The wind tore at her, sending her black hair flying across her face, but she ignored it.
She heard scuffling from behind her as the others climbed, but did not turn. Over the wind, she shouted back to them. “What do you think?”
Chris and the others gathered around her, and looked down over the edge.
To her surprise, Chris swallowed and retreated a step, his eyes widening. The others stood in varying states of fear, though none stood as close to the edge as Liz. To her right was the slope they had just climbed, but directly below the boulder, the gravel fell away in a sheer drop, all the way to the canyon floor two hundred feet below.
Looking down, Liz felt no fear, only a quiet resolve.
She would not go quietly back to her chains, to the cold cruelty of the doctors, to their needles and torture. She would not surrender to their bullets, to their harsh violence.
No, she would fight, she would resist, she would rage.
“You know,” Ashley mused beside her. “They say birds just know. That their parents push them from the nest, and before they hit the ground, it comes to them.”
“Care to go first?” Sam muttered.
Silence fell then as they stared out over the canyon, watching as the tiny specks of the guards came into view. They crawled towards them like ants, eyes searching the boulders strewn around them. But their gaze did not lift to where the seven of them stood, not yet. They were still a long way off, but they were closing quickly.
Shivering, Liz looked at the others.
They looked back, waiting.
Turning back to the edge, Liz sucked in a deep breath. Movement came from beside her as Chris stepped forward, his fingers reaching out to entwine with hers. He looked across at her, his face drained of colour. Naked fear stared from his eyes, but he smiled at her.
“Just like baby birds, right?” he tried to laugh, but it came out more as a shriek.
Liz nodded, her stomach swirling. Then she closed her eyes, and focused on the foreign appendages on her back, feeling their presence, embracing them. They were still alien to her, a violation of her body; but she needed them now, needed to embrace them as a part of her.
Concentrating, she willed them to open.
With a crack of unfurling feathers, the great black expanse of her wings snapped open. The others gasped, but beside her Liz sensed movement. She looked across to see the tawny brown of Chris’s wings stretch out towards her own. She shivered as their wing tips met, their feathers brushing together.
Liz flashed one last look back at the others. They wore wide grins on their face
now, and their eyes were alive with excitement. She grinned back, and with Chris beside her, turned to face the edge.
Together, they leapt out into the void.
36
Chris’s stomach lurched up into his chest as he plunged from the edge. Below the ground raced up towards him at a terrifying speed, the jagged rocks looming large in his vision. Opening his mouth, he began to scream.
His wings gave a hard lurch, followed by a crack as they caught the air. Then he was soaring upwards, the wild wind catching in his twenty-foot wingspan, driving him up, up, up. His stomach twisted again, dropping sharply as the ground fell away. Chris let out another scream as he shot upwards and past the pale faces of his friends.
Concentrating, he focused on turning, beating his wings to counter the powerful drafts swirling around him, and risked a wave to those below. The others waved back, then with only a moment's hesitation, followed Chris and Liz off the cliff.
Chris swirled in the air, his wings twisting almost by a will of their own, and watched them plummet from the cluster of boulders. They dropped a dozen feet before their wings caught, halting their freefall and sending them hurtling back up into the sky. Broad grins split their faces, their eyes wild, their laughter echoing off the cliffs. In those briefest of moments, their hunters were forgotten, and there was only the joy of flight.
But it could not last. An ache had begun in the centre of his back, and already Chris could feel the strain in his chest and abdomen, the muscles pulling tight to keep his wings moving. With their broad expanse, there seemed to be no need for giant wing beats, but even the incremental adjustment of primary feathers and muscle was draining. Looking at the faces of the other, he could see the strain was beginning to affect them too.
The mist swirled around them, providing some cover from the guards below, or at least he hoped.
