Chapter 1
The first thing that woke him was the smell: like rotten eggs. Sulphur. He wrinkled his nose. Not the best smell to wake up to. He opened his eyes. Not much use. Everything was pitch black. The smell of smoke wafted around the room and stung his nostrils and eyes, so he closed them again. Slowly, he got to his feet. Everything hurt. He wet his finger, held it in the air. No breeze. He jumped as high as he could, hand extended above his head. His abs and core screamed as he jumped. His fingers brushed cool, moist stone. Like rocks on a beach. Completely smooth. When he touched them, he felt safe; solid. He touched back down, and examined himself with his hand. He felt rough, tattered fabric with his hands. He couldn’t make anything else out. He decided to explore more. He opened his eyes again. The smoke was getting thicker now. He dashed --though it hurt-- forward and hit stone. More pain. Something clattered to the ground. He searched around with his hands frantically, grasping for any hope of something. Anything. He found a medium length object. When he ran his hands along it, they found a jagged edge and then a handle. A knife. But more importantly, a tool. He searched the cave some more, waiting for his eyes to adjust, though the smoke stung them. That smoke had to be coming from somewhere. Eventually, he stumbled into a sort of passageway. There was the beginnings of light here. There were two pillars flanking it. He walked eagerly down the tunnel, but found it was another dead end. He slammed his fist into the wall angrily. The surface before him shifted. He experimentally kicked the wall. Nothing happened. He kicked again, harder this time. Still nothing. He screamed in frusteration. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker. He coughed, doubling over. He fell against the wall. A section of the surface crumbled, sending the rest of what had been a barricade of rocks cascading into the opening that had appeared in front of him. When the dust settled, he looked out into what must have been another cave. Smoke was billowing out of this place, he squinted his eyes against it. The source of the smoke was a bubbling pit of molten rocks.
He stood there, dumbfounded. Completely in awe of the glowing, pulsing majesty in front of him. Magma. An ember flew out of the magma, making a “WHIZZZZZZZZZ” sound
as it soared through the air, falling back into the sea of fire. He unconsciously took a couple of steps backward. The smoke was starting to get even thicker now, stinging his throat. He rushed back into the cave, where the smoke wasn’t as thick. He frantically scrabbled at the walls, coughing as the smoke invaded the cave. Bits of loose dirt and stones rewarded him and he dug harder, eventually reaching soft, wet dirt. He stuck his nose into the little cavity, taking a deep breath. He doubled over, coughing, and retched. This place was no better. He crawled into the little space he had made. At least he could die comfortably. He had somehow lost his knife.
Well, this was fun. He thought. Five minutes in, and I’m already dying. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.
He is standing in a room. All white. Blindingly white. Some other kids his same age are there. A school? No. A clinic, maybe? Possibly a prison. He watches as a boy is grabbed by the wrist by a man in a white suit.
He says something. The boy screams and kicks, bites and screams more. No one takes notice. It is as if everyone is drugged. In a stupor. Oblivious to what is happening. The boy is lead to a pair of doors. They slide open. The boy starts crying. His screams grow louder. The doors close behind the man and the boy, muffling his wails and sobs. He waits in his chair. When they take him, he does not scream or kick. They lead him through the doors. A needle goes into his arm--
The wall suddenly crumbles. His eyes snapped open. He slammed his body into the wall over and over again. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker. The smell of sulphur was overpowering. The cavern was starting to heat up. He could barely breath. He gathered all his strength and slammed his body into the wall, and broke through. He fell out of the hollow. Smoke billowed out of the entrance. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. There was a grinding noise. Of shifting earth. He opened his eyes. And found himself free falling toward the ground. Two hundred feet below. This was it. This was how his life was going to end. He closed his eyes.
A man stands in front of him. He is twelve or thirteen. He lies in a bed. Next to the man stands a woman.
“He’s awake.” Says the man.
The woman says nothing. Does nothing. Stands there like a statue.
He sits up.
“Easy there ---.”
A skip. Where the man should have said his name, there was a blank spot. Like his name had been neatly snipped out of existence.
“The drug will take over again soon. It’s not long until you go under.” He looks at the woman.
His face is creased and wrinkled, his eyebrows thick and gray. He looks like an old man, but he can’t be more than thirty. The woman slowly turns a dial connected to a bag that has blue fluid in it upward, breaking her mannequin like appearance. Her movements are smooth. Almost too smooth. Bone sliding on tissue, spine twisting. It was creepy.
The man leans close to him.
“---,” there it is again. That space where his name should be. “Where you are going, you will be frightened. Every day, you will be tested. And you may die. But you must remember to--”
The man suddenly opened his mouth impossible wide. His eyes went completely red. A terrible scream, like a knife scraping stone, the violent creak of a subway car coming to a stop. The ungreased hinged of an old door. A scream so terrible, it destroys everything. Rips him away--
Falling.
Down.
Down.
Down.
And then he hit the water. Like concrete. Hard as concrete. Hard as death
SPLASH!!
Bubbles. Blue-green water. Confusion. Panic. The boy struggled against the force that was restricting him. He had become tangled in something. He reached for his knife, but remembered it wasn’t there. He kicked frantically, but nothing happened. His whole body hurt from hitting the lake at two hundred miles an hour. But the air was leaving his lungs. He struggled even more frantically, but just managed to get more tangled. Finally, he gave up and lay limp. Slowly, his body floated to the surface. He lifted his head out of the water and took huge gulps of air. He looked around him. It was broad daylight. The lake he had fallen into shone a brilliant blue. He realized he had become tangled in a fishing net. His body had floated to the surface when he had relaxed. He grabbed a cattail and pulled himself to shore. There, he began untangling himself. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a horn. It was a deep, primal sound. From the woods, dozens of deer, birds, rabbits, even a moose, trampled out, scattering in all directions. Whatever blew that horn, the boy had a feeling he didn’t want to meet it. Frantically, he finished untangling himself and sprinted to a tree and started to climb. When he was about eleven feet up, he heard a sound below him: snuffling and grunting. He closed his eyes and kept. Perfectly. Still. The snuffling moved toward the lake, but the boy still did not move. There was more of this noise. Then, there was a roar. The boy slowly opened one eye. And he would never forget what he saw. It the lake, snuffling at the lake were...people. Except they weren’t people. They had the faces of bears, but the brilliant blue eyes of people. They stood on two legs and wore armor of some sort of burnished steel that glinted in the sunlight. They were so majestic, standing there, the boy almost fell out of his tree. The bear-people stalked away, but one, the largest, stayed. It sniffed the fishing net and growled. It stalked up to the tree and sniffed. It roared, slamming a paw into the tree. It shook. The boy knew it was now or never. He lept from the tree, hit the ground, and started to run. There was a roar as the bear-person took off in pursuit. The boy knew he was fast. That he could go faster. He pushed himself, running harder and harder. He sped forward, coming into a grass plain. He couldn’t see anything from his own waist down. Suddenly, he tripped on a rock and sprawled face down. He rolled over. The bear-person stalked up to him. It growled, shaking the ground. The boy stared into those eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes. He was mesmerised. Suddenly, he felt something grip his shoulders, and he soared into the sky. He didn’t know how he was doing this. He smiled. This was awesome. He made a face at the bear-person, which was roaring in the field. He felt great. He felt free. He could fly! Then he looked up.
He is thirteen. He can’t see anything. He hears explosions. Dust rains down on his face. Screams. Explosions. Death. Fear. He lies curled in a ball, touching something cold and rough. He is terrified. A light is flicked on. A lighter. A woman, maybe forty, steps up to him.
“---,” his name, “they’re coming for you. The only--”
A white hot burst of fire is the last thing he hears before all goes dark. He hears gunfire. Screams. Suddenly, a voice screams two words. Two words that he will remember for the rest of his life. Two words so meaningful, so powerful, that it shook the very foundations of his existence.
“LOGAN!! RUN!!”
The face of a woman. Hair short and feathery. Face pointed and intellegant. Wings like eagle’s wings. Hands with talons gripping his shoulders. He was being carried by something similar to the bear person. But also so remotely different, it would be insanity to say that they were the same thing. Logan screamed, but it was cut off abruptly by the realization. He knew what his name was. He had a little possesion to hold on to. One idea -- however small -- of what his it had been like. That it would all be okay. Somehow. Maybe. He couldn’t help it. He laughed. The thing that was carrying him stayed as still as a statue, except for the occasional flap of the wings. They soared on, and everything was great. Until they came upon the Others.
Chapter 2
Logan saw the splotches in the horizon before he heard them.
“They found us.” The voice was the sweetest thing he had ever heard. A combination of a woman’s voice and the birdsong of early morning. She dove downward. Wind rushed through his hair. It was exhilarating and terrifying. He wanted to yell, but thought better. They landed in a prairie. Grass stretched on and on for what seemed like miles. The grass and wind seemed to laugh as they tumbled and played. Whispers of ancient days. Tales of things to come.
“Come on. It’s just a few miles.” Said the bird thing. It started walking with surprising speed. Logan had to run to catch up. He felt stupid, but he said,
“What’s your name?” Between breaths.
It looked at him sharply. “It’s Brenda. And it’s not stupid.”
Logan was so surprised, he almost tripped and fell.
“W-what?”
“You thought it was stupid talking to a bird.” Said Brenda. “Which I’m not.” She added.
“How--then what are you?”
She didn’t answer until about ten minutes later.
“I’m an Avion.”
“An Avion?”
“It’s a long story.”
Suddenly, a black streak zoomed down from the sky.
Logan did something that surprised even him. He punched it. The thing crashed to the ground. It got up and screeched. It was like Brenda, but it was completely black, like a raven. It had dark eyes and a spiked tail. Razor sharp talons met Logan. He yelled in pain and stumbled backward. His hand was bleeding. The thing was now uttering guttural cries and stamping its claws. The sky started to turn dark as dozens more soared in. They all screeched.
“You idiot!” Screamed Brenda. She took off, soaring into the sky, eventually becoming a white streak, engaging several of the birds. Logan looked again at the thing he had hit. It was hissing and screeching. It rose into the air, its red beady eyes fixed on him.
“You will die, survivor!” It screeched.
It reared back, its whip-like tail poised to strike. What had it called him? Survivor? Survivor of what?
Then, something changed. The screeches of the bird-like things stopped. All was still and silent for one moment. On impulse, Logan looked upward. The tiny splotch that was Brenda seemed to be growing. Like there were ten Brendas, then twenty, thirty, fifty...
A war horn blasted its eery call. There was a screech like a hawk’s when it’s diving. A white streak, like a marble arrow whizzed down from the sky, cutting a gigantic swath in the army of bird-men. A creature like Brenda, but larger and holding daggers in its claws swooped down and gutted the thing that Logan had hit. The battle was over in minutes. The mob of bird-men dispersed, and all that was left were the gleaming white of the other bird people. The sun glinted off of their feathers.
“Boy. Come here.” A pure voice, like the screech of a hawk combined with the low, melodic tones of a man.
Logan walked over as if in a trance.
“The survivor has arrived!” Shouted the bird man. There was a chorus of screams. The war horn blew again. And in that moment, all was good. Logan was happy. But then, the next two words that the bird man uttered were far different than Logan had ever expected.
“Kill him.”
And then everything rushed toward Logan a speeding train toward a man.
Stillness and quiet. That was the thing Logan noticed the most, along with the moist air. He began to sit up, but was pushed roughly back down.
“Lie still.” It was a gruff voice.
Logan tried to form words on his lips, but he could not. There was a crack! And light from a candle illuminated the area. Logan blinked rapidly several times, and surveyed the room. Water dripped from the ceiling into a bucket in the far side of the cave. There was a medium sized door on the far side, and a deer skin rug. The embers of a fire glowed next to Logan. A bronze pot, polished to perfection. There was something in the pot that smelled amazing. Logan looked to his far left. He tried to scream, but no sound formed on his lips. A furry face looked down on him. The man had a thick brown beard and dreadlocks. He smiled at Logan’s surprise, revealing heavy, deadly looking teeth. His lower body was a bear’s. Logan had pretty much given up the hope that anything would be normal anymore. But then he yelled in alarm and sat up sharply. This was the thing that had chased him through that prairie. He scrambled to his feet.
“Wait!” Roared the bear-man.
Logan kicked embers from the fire into the bear’s face. It roared and swatted them away. Logan sprinted to the door and threw it open. A gust of wind blew in through the opening, scattering blankets and embers all around the small dwelling. Rain blew almost vertically. Thunder and lightning boomed in the sky, like titans were fighting. A gust of wind blew the door closed. It slammed shut, sending vibrations through Logan’s body. Rain cascaded down from the sky, drenching Logan in milliseconds. He heard a roar from inside the cave. Logan ran. The dwelling was on the summit of a mountain. Craggy rocks and barren trees seemed to laugh and jeer as Logan scrambled down the mountain. A flash of lightning blinded Logan. He stood still, waited for his vision to adjust. There was a roar behind him. His vision was completely blank from the blast. He couldn’t see anything. Stumbling down the steep slope, his foot caught on a tree root, twisting his ankle. He fell, face first into a puddle of water. Freezing, wet, and terrified, he saw the bear-man approaching. He got to his feet, but his ankle crumpled under him and he fell.
And then kept falling.
Chapter 3
Raph soared through the sky. He had to dispose of it. He looked for a good place to do it. It was growing darker. Wind blew him off course. He almost dropped the precious package. If he wanted to please her, he had to do this. Had to risk his life, all for a stupid girl. He sighed. Sometimes he thought he should reevaluate his values. There was a screech. Raph looked behind him. He cursed. They had found him again. He had thought they would leave him alone after the battle. A gust of wind buffeted him again. But there was Ferron’s Hill up ahead. A craggy mountain with--
Raph felt wing strokes beside him. He looked to his right. The thing screeched and scratched at the bird’s face. Raph dove, getting nicked on the head. He flew harder, leaving the smaller creature behind him. The trouble with these little guys were that they always flew in packs. Hundreds’ maybe even thousands would swarm you. And then they would kill you. Unlike most other lifeforms, these things had not once been--
it had started to rain. Suddenly, like someone had turned on a lever.
Good. Raph thought. They hate rain. A flash of lightning struck a tree a hundred feet in front of Raph. He flew to the left to avoid it. The air had briefly been heated to over a hundred degrees, sucking the breath from Raph’s lungs, and he almost dropped the package. The package! He looked down. It wasn’t there anymore. There was a roar in the distance. He cursed. He had failed. The Ferron had it now. There was no hope left. No time to try and fight the bear people. They were much, much stronger. Raph only hoped it was Sid who had found the package. There was at least a chance that he would take care of it. Raph was running out of time. He had to get home. Suddenly, a gust of wind slammed him earthward. He tried to fight it, but it was like a fist had grabbed him and was plunging him toward the grown. He flipped into a dive. He plummeted faster and faster. Wait...wait...now! He soared upward at the last second. He was safe. Then, a black form slammed into him. He plummeted toward the ground and crashed to the loam of the forest. The Malumai flew off. Lightning cracked. Thunder boomed. Raph couldn’t see anything. He was soaking wet. He had failed. He pulled himself under the protection of a low hanging evergreen branch. Then, he noticed his wing. Was it supposed to look that way. A sickening feeling washed over Raph. His wing was broken. He couldn’t fly. The Avios camp was miles and miles away. Too far to walk. His closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night. He slept peacefully, undisturbed. Until the boy landed a hundred feet away.
Logan woke to feel pain. Pain all over his body. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. He tried to raise his arms to wipe his eyes. The pain was so intense, he screamed. It felt like a knife had been driven into his shoulder and had been slowly twisted, then wrenched to one side, disconnecting his arm bone from the socket. Tears streamed from his eyes. Eventually, he could open them. He realized later that blood must have dried there and sealed them shut. Tears streamed from his eyes. He looked at himself. Blood caked his whole body. He groaned. His leg was twisted at a funny angle. His right arm was pinned under his back. He wiggled the fingers on his left arm. At least they still worked. He groped around for some sort of stick. He found one and set it beside himself. Rolling onto his side, he moved his left arm with his right. It hurt like hellfire, but he did it. He poked at the area between his shoulder and his arm bone. It hurt, but he felt the connection. He sighed in relief, but, a pain erupted in his chest. His ribs must have been broken. Two, maybe three. How did he know all this? He didn’t know that, either. This was the first time he realized what little he knew about knowing things...he decided not to think about -- it made his head hurt. He thought his arm was probably just sprained, a few ribs were broken, his leg twisted, though not broken, he thought. He must have a gash on his head, that was the blood. Seeing as how no more blood was coming, the wound must have scabbed over. He grabbed the stick and sat up, his torso screaming. Heavily favoring his uninjured leg, he stood shakily. He held the stick in his right hand. He took in his surroundings. The mountain from which he had falled was about fifty feet away. There was a steady slope, leading into a jagged cliff. This cliff was dotted with holes. There was a kind of boardwalk between them. A place where more bear people lived. He had to get away from this place. As if on cue, a roar came from the mountain, resounding all around Logan. He limped away. About five minutes later, he had traveled about a hundred feet. He was annoyed with himself. He couldn’t do anything. He decided that maybe rest was the best thing for him. He found a low hanging evergreen branch and slid under it, pulling his walking stick along with him. And that’s when he saw the bird.
This is my second post to this blog. I hope to find time to do it regularly! See you next time,
Cirrus
