by Kevin George
Carli considered removing the jetpack and leaving it outside, but the heavy contraption was the only thing making her feel safe, not that it would serve much purpose indoors. Still, she pushed the door open a few more inches—metallic squeals echoing within the HASS—and contorted her body until she squeezed all the way in, jetpack included. Inside was dark, most of the windows dusted with snow, filtering in dim light that was enough to show the Cultural Center completely bare. Many of the walls contained large holes or cracks, appearing ready to crumble at the lightest touch (which Carli did not attempt).
Disappointment flooded her. Everything she’d ever dreamed about this place was wrong, its past glory completely gone. She proceeded through a connecting hallway and found the rest of the rooms devoid of anything and everything that had once been housed there (not that she knew what that might’ve been). When she walked closer to the walls—hoping to find any hint of wires or other electronics that may have been left behind—she saw plenty of faded red splatters.
She rushed from room to room, finding similar blood stains wherever she went. Instinct told her to run outside and fly far away, but the stains appeared old and it was apparent the HASS had been empty a long time. She reminded herself to be brave. There were plenty of other places to check and she couldn’t let fear ruin her best chance to find parts for the GPS. She returned to the entrance and walked out, shivering as she stepped outside, but not because of the cold. She scanned her surroundings, again finding nobody, and circled to the next HASS, finding a sign that read: SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH.
She hurried in, the door to this HASS sliding open easier than the last one. But once inside, Carli saw that things weren’t much different: broken glass, blood stained walls, devoid of anything technological, no sign of recent human occupation. She followed the hallway to the back of the HASS—momentarily glancing into rooms that she passed, no longer examining them closely—and found the rear exit.
She stepped outside to a small courtyard area in between the four HASSes, an empty space shielded from the rest of the White Nothingness. Carli spotted lettering on the other two HASSes but couldn’t quite make out the names. Hoping to find something of use in either one, she began to cross the courtyard, which appeared to be more of the same empty whiteness as the rest of the world. But Carli didn’t take two steps before her foot caught something in the snow and she stumbled. Normally, Carli was sure-footed, but the heavy jetpack helped knock her off balance and she fell.
Her hands punched through the top layer of snow and felt something underneath. She quickly dug a small hole, exposing a frozen arm, its hand just beneath the surface, the fingers outstretched as if reaching for something. Carli leapt to her feet, scurrying away so quickly that she couldn’t avoid tripping again, this time over something else barely buried by snow. When Carli hurried to stand the next time, she found herself in the middle of the courtyard, completely still, afraid of what or whom she might trip over next.
She couldn’t stifle a cry and closed her eyes, her mind still able to see the dead bodies littering the ground around her. Clanging—a sound undeniably real—snapped her eyes open. She immediately looked at the ground, afraid to find movement coming from the dead, but more noise came from the HASS across the way. A sudden gust of wind sent snow swirling throughout the courtyard, but Carli could still see a shadow standing in the doorway of the HASS, a large figure with a long spear in hand. . .
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You have to get me out of here,” James said, his words quiet and muffled.
He sat on the edge of a mattress pushed into the corner of a room not much larger than a closet (which may have been the room’s original purpose). There were no windows and the only light trickled in from the hallway. Sally stood in the doorway, careful not to get too close and careful not to open the door any farther than it already was. She sensed the presence of several individuals in the hall behind her, ready to pounce the moment James got out of line or tried to escape.
James must’ve sensed them as well. He remained still, calm, but when he finally lowered his hands and looked up, his eyes were wide and bloodshot. Crazed, Sally thought, hoping he wouldn’t budge from the bed and force her into a quick retreat. James stayed in place, folding his hands in his lap, the desperation remaining on his pale face, which was covered with as much long, straggly hair as adorned the top of his head.
“Please,” he begged, his brow furrowing in desperation. “You have to get me back into the radio room.”
Sally glanced over her shoulder, expecting to hear squawking or flapping behind her, expecting this visit to be cut short. Part of her wished for that to happen; staying away from James and his room made her life easier, both personally and in regard to building relationships with those she lived with. But Lump—the largest member of the Swarm, who faced his task of guarding James’s room with a single-minded focus—either didn’t hear James or chose to ignore him.
Sally assumed the former.
“Keep your voice down,” Sally hissed.
Even though she wanted to stay as far back as possible, she stepped closer to James so Lump couldn’t hear them. The massive Aviary may have been among the kindest in the Swarm, but Sally had no doubt he’d rush to Quinn and inform the Swarm leader about anything he overheard.
“Do you know what would happen to both of us if I tried breaking you out?” Sally whispered. “You’re lucky to still be alive and I’m lucky to have what little freedom they’ve given me. Both of those things would change if we rushed into something foolish.”
Though James appeared frail and weak, he leapt from the bed and took several steps forward before Sally could react.
“That’s not what I heard,” he growled.
Sally backed up and bumped into the door. A subdued squawk from the hallway stopped James in his tracks. He took a few steps toward his bed, though Lump remained outside.
“Not what you’ve heard?” Sally whispered, trying—yet failing—to hide the fear in her voice. Embarrassed, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, making a show of looking around at his tiny room. “You have a lot of conversations with people? Because that’s not the way Lump tells it.”
James’s lips broke into a wide grin, though it was difficult to see within his bush of facial hair. “You think I’m crazy,” he said, no longer keeping his voice lowered.
Sally shook her head, a gesture that felt as disingenuous as if she’d said ‘no.’ Looking into James’s eyes made her cringe at the memory of all those hours spent alone with him, at his mercy. It was hard not to think of Chad in a moment like this, especially about what his fate had actually become.
“I think solitude does strange things to people,” Sally said. “That’s why I want to ensure that I’m not locked up, too.”
James snorted. “I’m used to solitude.”
“Solitude like this?” she asked, looking around again.
A hint of a smile filled his eyes, but only for a moment. He started forward but stopped when Sally backed up again. James lowered his voice to a whisper.
“None of these freaks ever talk to me,” James said. “Not that most of them are capable of actual speech.”
“They aren’t freaks,” Sally said, surprised by the conviction in her voice—the conviction that she felt. “You shouldn’t speak of them that way.”
James shook his head, his top lip curling in disgust. “Guess we both know whose side you’re on. You think your friends are treating me fairly? That I deserve to be shoved into this hole in the wall?”
“I don’t know what you deserve. . . or what I deserve for that matter,” Carli said. “Let’s face it: we invaded their home, we lured someone from The Mountain here—”
“For whom your friends got their revenge,” James interrupted.
“—and you hijacked their equipment, possibly putting them in more trouble,” she finished.
James shook his head, opening his mouth in what was sure to be a denial, until he stopped himself
. He sat back on his mattress, his head in his hands.
“Maybe you’re right, maybe that’s how they view me,” James said. “But I’ve never meant them harm and I still don’t. You know that about me.”
“Do I?” Sally asked. James looked up again, his brow furrowed. “You left me alone to deal with the guard from The Mountain. You had no idea the Swarm was here, that they’d protect me. You seemed more than willing to sacrifice my life.”
James frowned. “And I’m. . . sorry. . . about that. The Communication Center. . . the long-range radio. . . ever since Love told me about them, I lived my life to get here. To call whoever might be out there.”
“And who might that be?”
“I don’t know,” James said, “at least not for certain. But someone was out there, someone did respond. I know you heard it, too.”
Sally shrugged. “I don’t know what I heard. I don’t doubt that Love told you about the radio, but that doesn’t matter to anyone that still lives here. You’ll have an easier time convincing the Swarm to release you once Love returns and confirms your story.”
James sighed. “Love is dead.”
Sally instinctively stepped back, bumping into the door. She shook her head in horror, a wave of revulsion crashing through her stomach. She swallowed hard to avoid becoming ill. Sally’s interactions with Love were limited to a single time lasting a few minutes, but her opinion of the Sky Person had been shaped by hearing countless stories from Swarmers. She was surprised by the depth of her sadness for him, sadness she tried to hide as she sensed James eyeing her suspiciously.
“Why do you say he’s dead? We both saw him fly away from your ISU,” she said.
“It’s been one hundred sixty-four days since we last saw him,” James said. “And we both know where he was going. Nobody survives King Edmond and the City Below.”
“What about the two people in this room?” Sally asked.
James snorted and looked over Sally’s shoulder. “Have you asked the freaks if Love has ever been gone this long?”
Sally turned away, shaking her head. “They don’t tell me much, but I’ll try to learn more from them. And if I can. . .”—she leaned in closer and lowered her voice to a breathless whisper—“. . . I’ll try to sneak into the radio room to see if I hear any voices.”
James perked up, sitting straighter on his mattress, his eyes widening. “And you’ll check the GPS to see if they’re receiving our signal?”
Sally nodded. “But I can’t do that if you keep yelling at every person that walks by your door.”
“Person?” James asked, his tone oozing with contempt. “Not sure they fit into that category.”
“You’re wrong about them,” Sally snapped.
James’s lips curled into a smile once more. “You really think I believe that about them? Or was I just testing your reaction about them?” he asked. “You’ve taken to them as much as they’ve taken to you, yet I’m still kept in this prison. Maybe you aren’t trying hard enough to convince them to let me out.”
“This is what Quinn wants,” Sally said. “He’s in charge while Love is gone. He was the first member of the Swarm, the first one Love ever caught. Everyone looks up to him and follows his lead.”
“Except that he wanted me dead and wanted you imprisoned, neither of which happened because of the little girl,” James said.
“Yes, maybe BabyDoll. . .”—her name caused James to snort—“. . . was able to talk sense into them, but she can’t work miracles,” Sally said. “She certainly can’t change Quinn’s mind about some things.”
James nodded to the door. “Close it over and put your ear to it. Tell me what you hear.”
Sally’s eyebrows lowered, but she did as he asked. At first, she heard nothing. But the distant echo of squawks and voices eventually reached her ears. Sally realized what that meant and she felt her body go numb. She closed her eyes, this time listening for James’s footsteps behind her. When she didn’t hear him moving, she shook her head. She opened her mouth to deny hearing anything, but James knew better.
“I overhear a lot more than you think,” he said.
Sally turned the burned side of her face toward James, hoping to keep the other, reddened side hidden in shadows. It was the first time she’d felt this kind of nervousness since James first emerged from his ISU and entered the vehicle. She tried not to show fear, but he leapt from his bed and she immediately knocked on the door.
“I’m done, Lump!” she called out.
The door swung open and the large Aviary filled the doorway. James froze at the sight of him. Lump was taller than the others, broader, needing to turn his body slightly sideways just to squeeze through the doorway. He looked from James to Sally, sensing her fear, his misshapen wing flapping a single time.
“Sally. . . okay?” Lump asked, his words slow and careful, his voice deep at first but turning strangely high-pitched as he finished his question.
Sally nodded and scurried to his side, brushing against the warm, soft feathers poking out of the mismatched, undersized rags that were Lump’s clothes. James fell to his knees. He began to crawl toward Sally, only stopping when Lump stepped between them.
“I hear things, things I know that you know,” he said. “I know about the radio. Please, it must be turned on. . . the GPS system must be turned on. That’s the only way we’ll ever make contact with the outside world. You have to make them understand—you have to make Quinn or the little girl understand—that it wasn’t The Mountain calling.”
Lump squawked loudly, his entire body rippling, his distorted wings pulsing. He whipped himself into such a frenzy that feathers fluttered around him.
“Mountain. . . no Mountain,” he muttered in a panic. He finally seemed to calm until his head turned toward James. “You. . . no bring Mountain.”
Lump stomped toward James, who didn’t budge. Sally hurried around the massive Aviary, placing a hand on his broad, feathery chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering rapidly within. Lump stopped immediately, his neck still turning from side to side, though his wing relaxed at his side.
“No Mountain,” Sally told him.
Lump nodded and allowed Sally to lead him toward the door. Together, they headed for the hallway. Sally began to close the door, but not before James had his final say.
“They don’t listen to you? They don’t do what you say?” he asked. Sally paused. “Please, the radio. It’s the most important thing in either of our lives.”
Sally nodded before walking out, shutting the door behind her. She exhaled deeply, relieved the visit was over. She wanted to dismiss everything James had said, but her eyes flitted in the direction of the radio room.
“Man. . . bad?” Lump asked.
Sally frowned but shook her head. “Quinn seems to think so, but I don’t. James only wants to know what else the world holds.”
“Mountain?” Lump asked, his voice rising.
“Not The Mountain,” Sally said, patting his arm. “Other people. . . in other places. . . somewhere.”
“Somewhere. . . other places,” Lump repeated. “Love at other places?”
Sally fought a frown. “I hope so,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m sure Love will tell us all about his adventures once he returns.”
Lump smiled, sweet and innocent. “Love tell. . . story.”
“If he ever returns, which isn’t likely,” said a voice down the hallway.
Lump’s smile faded. He unleashed a low, mournful squawk, long and slow. As Quinn approached from down the hallway, Lump hurried in front of James’s door.
“Love. . . no?” Lump asked when Quinn reached them.
Sally’s brow furrowed and she shook her head at Quinn, who ignored her unspoken plea.
“Love has been gone too long,” Quinn said, his eyes hardening. “My guess is The Mountain finally caught on to what he’s been doing. They must’ve caught him snatching another one of their experiments out of midair. He could only save so many of us. I imagin
e The Board made him pay dearly for saving us.”
“Pay. . .” Lump repeated, his entire body quivering.
“You don’t know that,” Sally snapped at him.
Quinn grabbed her arm and started to pull her farther down the hallway. Lump stepped away from the door, his good wing flapping again. Quinn let go of Sally and turned to the large Aviary. Both of Quinn’s perfect wings stretched out of his back, filling the width of the hallway. Lump was nearly a foot taller and twice as broad as Quinn, but Lump turned away, his eyes darting from side to side, unable to suppress disturbed squawks. When Sally tried to step between them, Quinn flapped his wings a single time, the force knocking her to the floor.
“Sally!” Lump said, starting toward her.
Quinn remained blocking the large Aviary’s path. “Do your job, Lump!”
Sally scurried to her feet and reached a hand for Lump, assuring him that she was okay. Lump frowned and squawked a final time before returning to his post. Once the tension eased, Quinn pulled his wings back into his body and reached for Sally again. She pulled her arm away before he could grab it, but she walked down the hallway beside him.
“You don’t have to treat Lump so badly,” she whispered to the Swarm leader.
“And you don’t have to keep giving everyone false hope,” Quinn said. “They need to come to grips that Love is dead.”
“You don’t know that,” Sally said, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu after having the same argument with James.
Quinn stopped, his stony expression fading as the corners of his eyes creased. When he spoke again, his voice cracked, the first time Sally saw that he was capable of expressing emotion, whether he wanted to or not.
“Love has never been gone this long. . . ever. . . not even close to this long. . . not even when I was the first and only Aviary he brought here,” Quinn said, his voice softer than Sally ever heard. His lips suddenly grew taut and his eyelids closed halfway when he looked at her. “For all we know, you and your friend killed him. I doubt it’s a coincidence that he hasn’t returned since the two of you showed up.”
