The Tragedy of Power

by Ian Withrow

  As she bolted across the field, her feet impacting on the hard, frozen earth, her wings unfurled. With a terrific jump and a downward beat she took to the skies. Instincts she didn't know she had, coupled with the knowledge she'd gained from her practice sessions, helped her maintain her balance as she fumbled through the skies. Within a few hundred yards she had straightened out, and each beat of her wings was smoother and more controlled than the last.

  Terror mixed with exhilaration. She felt a high unlike any other, like the rush she got from running magnified a thousand times. Her powerful wings pushed her light, streamlined body easily through the air, far outstripping her speed as a runner. She couldn't, wouldn't lose another person she loved.

  Lauren pushed herself to her limit, muscles burning and back tense. Mile after mile blurred by while silently she prayed for her father's safety. Tears streamed down from her face as she flew, sprinkling the earth far below her.

  For two long, gut-wrenching hours she flew, ignoring the pain, pushing through the exhaustion. Her muscles strained, tore, and repaired themselves in an endless cycle. Lauren flew directly Northwest, knowing it would put her close enough to her home to navigate.

  She forced herself into the steady, mind-clearing focus she had when running long distance. Sometimes lights streamed past below her, when she followed a highway or crossed over a small town or farmstead. Other times it was dark below, silent forests and rivers the only witnesses to her passage.

  Finally she found herself above what must have been Route 51.

  She followed the streets of Anna, and then Cobden, as they flashed past beneath her until she could see the glow of bonfires in the distance. Dropping to a mere 30 feet above the ground, she came streaking in above the crowd gathered in the park in the middle of town.

  John was there, his hands bleeding from where he had been fastened to the cross. His lips were bloody and his left eye swollen shut from the abuse of his captors. The man from the television, Disciple, was addressing the crowd, but he froze mid-sentence when he caught sight of her.

  Lauren realized too late that she didn't know how to land. She beat her wings to try to slow herself, but had to settle for tucking and rolling onto the rapidly approaching ground. The crowd gasped audibly as she crashed and rolled to a halt.

  Lauren could feel a great deal of pain in her shoulder and one of her wings, and she was fairly certain she'd sprained an ankle. Still,she knew her own pain was temporary where her father's was not. Not unless she could get to him in time.

  Unsteadily she stood, hyper-aware of the sudden and complete silence surrounding her. The whole crowd was staring. She must have looked as wild as the wind, orange firelight flickering against the white satin of her feathers and casting long shadows across her face. As she gazed out over the crowd they started to drop to their knees, first one, then a few dozen, then the rest. A sea of faces upturned, hands reaching for the sky, enraptured by her appearance.

  “Leave him alone,” Lauren voice was raised in anger, her words carrying well over the hushed audience.

  “The holy Lady!”

  Disciple crawled towards her, his eyes cast down at the ground.

  “I live to serve-”

  Lauren didn't have time for zealotry, she ran to the crucifix, thankfully it was very nearly at ground level. Lauren embraced her father, holding him tightly and burying her head in his shoulder as she had when she was younger.

  Instantly his wounds started to heal, his bruises lightened and disappeared, and the cuts and welts from his bonds closed, leaving only bloodstains and torn clothing as a testament to his injuries.

  She tugged at the knots restraining him until they gave way and wrapped her arms around him.

  Weeping, he clung to her as he regained consciousness. Her thoughts turned to the last time she had held him like this, at Gabriel's funeral. How had such a distance grown between them since then?

  As John's wounds healed, a murmur rumbled through the crowd. There could be no doubt the people said, their miracle girl had returned, and grown into an angel.

  “My Lady, please. Holy one tell me your will! I will spread your gospel-”

  Disciple's hands clutched at the hem of her dress as he groveled before her.

  “You do not speak for me!”

  Lauren was screaming. Her throat hurt from the force of her words. The crowd looked as shocked as the man before her. People shifted uncomfortably beneath her angry stare. Disciple deflated, groveling prostrate on the ground before her feet.

  “What's wrong with you people? Have you all lost your minds?”

  As Lauren stood with her father, looking over the enraptured gathering, she realized what she had done. In choosing to save him, to reveal herself, she knew she would never be able to escape again. She'd known it since the reality of her wings set in. It was a fool's hope to think she could conceal herself now.

  With her terrible realization came sudden sadness. She turned squeezed her father even tighter.

  “Daddy, I don't know what to do,” she whispered.

  “L-Lauren, thank God you're ok. I... I've been so scared since you left.”

  She choked up. He had nearly died and his first words were that he was worried about her.

  “Daddy,” Lauren spoke softly, afraid of what she had to say. “Daddy, I have to go, I can't be near you. I hurt the people I'm near, I need to go so these people will leave you alone.”

  Her father only sobbed and shook his head.

  “When I leave here, promise you'll leave too. Promise you'll hide. Somewhere far away.”

  “Lauren...”

  But Lauren couldn't let him speak, she knew that anything he said would be enough to break her will. Enough to keep her from doing what she knew had to be done.

  “I love you, Daddy,” she squeezed him tightly, and then let go.

  He didn't.

  He clung to her like a terrified child, it took all her willpower to push away from his feeble grasp.

  “Goodbye.”

  Turning to once again address the crowd, she raised her voice once more.

  “You should be ashamed. Every one of you is a murderer.”

  People throughout the crowd paled at her accusation, and the realization of what they had nearly done.

  Stepping backwards she looked to the sky. With a powerful downward beat of her wings she rocketed upward, sending sparks from the nearby bonfires shooting out over the crowd.

  Chapter Nine:

  Wind rushed past Lauren's face as she gained altitude, the cold winter air blowing her hair wildly behind her and raising goosebumps on her skin. As she rose, the smell of smoke and the noise of the crowd below dropped away.

  Lauren was accustomed to running to relieve stress, to relax, to calm her frayed and battered nerves. If running was aspirin then flying was morphine. It flooded her body with adrenaline and cushioned her mind with a blanket of freedom.

  Even if that freedom was an illusion.

  Lauren realized she had never been free, not of the burden of her power. She had ignored the world outside her carefully guarded space for too long, and because of her apathy people had suffered.

  Lauren, don't you think you ought to do something?

  She couldn't deny it any longer. The world seemed determined to force her hand.

  She couldn't save Gabriel or Erin, but perhaps she could save someone else. Perhaps she could still redeem herself.

  She clung to that hope and turned East. The nearest major city was St. Louis, and it was there she determined to begin again the work she had abandoned as a child.

  It was nearly one hundred miles to the city, and Lauren was already tired from her marathon flight earlier in the night. It had only been an hour or so and already she was gliding more than flying. She knew she had to find a place to land and rest.

  She hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings, trusting that the bright lights of St. Louis would steer her when she got close. The darkness of the night o
bscured most of the details of the ground below her. She guessed from the lack of development that she was still over the deep, quiet expanse of the Shawnee.

  Looking down she estimated she was a few hundred feet in the air. A moment of terror gripped her as the deep, animal part of her mind wrapped itself around that startling abnormality.

  Security came from the knowledge that any injury she sustained would certainly be temporary, but it was still unnerving. Even with her fear suppressed she decided it was a good idea to drop lower and get a better look at her surroundings.

  She tucked her wings just as she had seen red-tailed hawks do on countless occasions during the long Illinois summers of her childhood. She accelerated rapidly, and her heart pounded with the thrill of it.

  I wonder what would happen if I didn't pull up, Lauren mused to herself, but as much as she was morbidly curious, she lacked the conviction. She leveled off at about five feet above the ocean of trees beneath her and started to peer around for some place to land.

  Just how tall are these things? 20 feet? 50? She'd never really given any thought to assigning heights to things like trees. Words like 'tall' and 'short' had always been descriptive enough.

  A bright light warned her of an oncoming billboard just in time for her to veer out of the way and avoid colliding with it.

  What the hell?

  Lauren pulled into a tight turn and circled back to the billboard, trying to determine where exactly she was.

  The lonely billboard was parked beside a narrow, two-lane highway and proclaimed proudly that Fountain Bluff was only a few miles north, and the small friendly town of Gorham with it.

  Lauren was confused, she'd been to Fountain Bluff many times as a child. Her family had gone on countless outings, exploring the waterfalls, bluffs, and other mysteries of the forest they called home.

  Back when her family still took trips together.

  But Fountain bluff was a forty-five minute car ride from home, even accounting for flying in a straight line, Lauren did some quick math, it had to be close to twenty miles.

  Lauren was doubtful, she couldn't have been flying that fast, right? Then again, how fast does anything fly, she thought. Do birds all fly at the same speed? That seemed like a stupid question for a girl who had spent her youth in the wilderness, but she honestly had no clue.

  Lauren knew that the safest bet would be to sleep in the woods, but it was far too cold outside for that. She was fairly certain she’d survive the frigid night, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. Reluctantly she stopped circling the billboard and headed north up highway three, hoping to find a barn to sleep in.

  Given the rural, agricultural nature of the region, it was no surprise that she came upon a farm within a few minutes. It was an older looking home, worn around the edges but in good repair. The house had a barn a few dozen yards distant and a pair of shabby looking grain silos in the back. A lonely milk cow stood in one of two fenced in pastures. Most importantly, although the windows in the house were lit, there was no one outside to see her descend.

  Lauren was more careful this time, flapping rapidly to slow herself down as she dropped low to the ground. Landing at a bit of a jog, she managed to keep her feet. She congratulated herself silently on sticking the landing, but quickly ducked down into the shadow beside the barn as a figure passed in front of one of the windows in the house.

  Now that she was at ground level, Lauren could see there were people sitting down to dinner inside a large dining room. Just beyond the thin glass of that not so distant window they sat together, a family.

  Lauren imagined the conversations they were having. The two youngest children, both boys, looked to be school-aged. Maybe seven and nine. They were no doubt recounting their adventures at school. The eldest, a girl, looked closer to middle, or even high-school. From where Lauren stood she could see the thin, athletic frame of the girl. Perhaps she was a runner. Maybe she ran track for her school.

  How different Lauren's life might have been were she born normal, without her power. Without these wings. Could she have been happy too? The cold wind rustled her feathers and chilled her sweaty skin. A far cry from the warmth of the room before her.

  Lauren turned to the barn and crept inside. Without the wind the air was almost tolerable, but it was still near-freezing, and Lauren had no desire to test her power's effectiveness against frostbite.

  A loud, rough snort caused her to jump with fright. Her heart pounded like a freight train, and she had to remind herself how to breathe again. Clutching her chest she peered through the darkness and into the eyes of a large brown horse.

  The horse looked back at her with equal measures of curiosity and mistrust. Looking around she saw that it was one of four, each in its own stall and each staring at her with great interest.

  For a moment Lauren was discouraged. Would the animals make noise and attract attention from the house? Suddenly she realized that horses meant another thing would be in this barn; blankets!

  A few minutes later Lauren was laying atop a pile of hay, wrapped snugly under several heavy cotton blankets. Sleep quickly overpowered her exhausted body.

  The next morning Lauren was again rudely awakened by an animal. This time an overly eager rooster announcing the rising sun.

  Sitting up quickly, startled from a disturbing half-remembered dream, Lauren looked blearily around. She was still in the barn, alone but for the horses. The offending rooster called again, as if to be sure she had truly woken.

  She was mulling over the events of the night before when the big barn door swung wide.

  From her vantage point in the hayloft, she could see the young boys from the dining room enter.

  She was trapped. She couldn't see another way out besides the door on the ground floor.

  The children greeted the horses in loud, boyish fashion. Conversing with them as though they were friends rather than livestock. They set about filling water buckets and offering face rubs and ear scratches to their four-legged charges. Lauren cracked a too-rare smile as she observed them from above. They warmed her heart with their antics, at least until the oldest told his brother to stay put.

  “Hang on, Ty, I'll get the hay this time.”

  The child started up the ladder, the very ladder that Lauren had climbed the night before in search of a bed.

  Lauren panicked, looking around for some place to hide but saw nothing but stacked bales of hay and the blankets she'd brought up. Shit, the blankets alone were going to arouse suspicion.

  She only had a moment, so she took a deep breath, knelt down, and tried to look as friendly as possible.

  When the boy's head finally poked up over the floor of the loft, she smiled as big as she could and gave him a nervous little wave.

  The kid took one look at her and furrowed his little brow. He made no attempt to hide his confusion at her unfamiliar presence, and was clearly determining what he should do.

  “Are you the angel from the television?” he finally asked, his tone cautious.

  “Y-yes! Yes I am!”

  Great, she thought to herself, now you're lying to children and telling them you're an angel.

  His expression brightened instantly.

  “Tyson! Run and tell mom, the angel from the television is in the stable!”

  The little boy turned excitedly and waved to his younger brother. In his enthusiasm, however, he neglected his grip on the narrow ladder and slipped backwards.

  Lauren leapt after him, catching his hand by the narrowest of margins. She tucked him to her chest and wrapped him in her wings as they flew through the air, shielding him with her body from the hard, onrushing ground.

  The pair slammed into the dirt with a dull thud and an audible crack. Lauren landed squarely on her back. She felt a sudden searing pain in her chest as one of her ribs forced its way into her lung. For a moment she could feel fluid filling her chest and she drew a ragged, pain-filled breath. She coughed uncontrollably, flecks of red flying from her mouth and dott
ing the snowy white of her feathers. A few more ragged breaths and she felt her bone slide back into place, clicking back together. Her lung repaired itself as well, re-inflating and allowing her to breathe normally.

  She held the boy in her arms, could feel his breathing and hear his rapid little heartbeat.

  “Are you ok there, little buddy?” she asked him, easing up on her grip and looking down into his wide-eyed expression.

  He nodded silently, he seemed uninjured but somewhat in shock. Lauren saw the younger child was nearly at the house, and loudly shouting the news of her arrival. Lauren resigned herself to a morning filled with awkward conversation.

  With the young man in her arms, Lauren headed for the house.

  Inside herself she cherished the feeling of carrying the boy, imagining just for a moment that it was Gabriel. That he was her own little brother and not someone else's. It was a stolen moment. A treasure to be kept locked away in her heart. Irreplaceable.

  She was almost across the yard when the door swung open and a tall, powerfully built man stepped out from inside the house. He held a shotgun in his hands.

  Lauren pulled up short, freezing at the sight of the firearm.

  The man froze as well, taking a good long look at Lauren, her wings, and his little boy cradled in her arms.

  They were at an impasse, but he moved first. He set the shotgun down beside the door and ran to her, nothing but concern on his face.

  With only a heartbeat of hesitation Lauren handed the boy to his father. The man's large, muscular arms easily lifting the child from her grasp.

  “He um, he fell off the ladder. I think I startled him. B-but he's ok I swear,” Lauren addressed the man nervously, aware that she was trespassing and had nearly caused great harm to his son.

  Their eyes met. He had a piercing blue stare that made Lauren uncomfortable, like he could peer into her mind.

  “Daddy she can fly!”

  The little boy's words were full of childish delight, and seemed to satisfy his father's doubts.

  “Yes Justin, I imagine she can with great big wings like those. Go inside and wash up, breakfast is almost ready.”