On Black Wings (7 page)

Silence.

“Now where is the girl?” His voice is more forceful this time, he seems to be growing tired of this game.

“She left after we gave her some food,” Jeff says, and I close my eyes in relief, “she asked for some water for her horse, and we gave it to her. Who are we to say no, we don’t know her.”

Silence.

I hear the rustle of the Colonel’s chemical suit. “As an officer of the law do you state this fact to be true?”

“Yes, sir,” Jeff says. More silence. Do they trust him?

Why protect me?

“Do you mind if we have a look around?” I hear more rustling of chemical suits. “Fine then, let’s have a look. Men, search this place from top to bottom, if the girl is here I want to know. And I want her brought to me. If she resists, you know what to do. If the man with the wings is here, bring him to me.”

Man, with wings? Is there another?

I don’t know. I’m scared and I don’t care. I’m hiding, and I’m crying.

But, there are others? I wonder if other people are going through what I am right now?

Men fan out, and I hear movement close to me. I am staying so still it hurts.

I’m trying to control my breathing so they don’t hear me, but I can hear myself sobbing, and my breaths quicken. I bury my head in my knees, pushing myself as far into the darkness as it will let me go.

I curl up into a ball, as small as I can wrap myself into, and try not to breathe. The darkness surrounds me, and I hear them searching for me, opening cupboards, pulling things out to Velma’s protests, and knocking things over while they look for me.

I close my eyes tightly, hoping they will all go away when I open them, that this is all some sort of nightmare I can wake up from. I try to block out the noises from my head, and place my hands over my ears. I wish they all go away, and that I can crawl out of here when they leave.

I can’t understand why this is happening to me.

Anything I do makes it worse. If I try to help someone, get water for my horse, get something to eat, relax, sleep, talk about my problems - it just gets worse. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I break out of this? Why am I being punished? Why me, God?

I must be a horrible person.

I must be a terrible, horrible person.

I try to disappear, to hide, to will myself out of this hellish world. I feel the comfort of my soft wings around me, my black feathered wings, soft and warm, just like my favorite quilt.

I open my eyes.

Black feathers surround me.

I touch them in the darkness, completely wrapped up in my cocoon of black plumage, they are so clean, so soft against me. They complete me. I flex the muscles on my back. The wings are there. How could they be there?

I didn’t have them when I walked in the diner, and I’m sure someone would have said something about the scars. I feel their powerful presence against me, wrapping me up in their warmth, cradling me in their strength.

How could they be here? They would have never fit under the counter? Am I trapped? I blink my eyes in the darkness. What is going on?

I unwrap myself, feeling room to move them. I spread my arms, I’m not under a counter anymore, I’m in the corner of a large, dark room. Light filters under a door, and through a small, barred window on the same.

I’m in a cell.

Great, another jump to another hellish place. What is happening to me? I must be going mad, nothing makes any sense.

I use my wings to feel the walls behind me before I slide them back into place on my back. They are so big, so comforting. I never knew how much I missed them until now.

I stand, and a throbbing pain radiates from the back of my head. Someone struck me pretty hard. A cell? Someone hit me? My wings? The darkness of the cell surrounds me, and I stand up.

I must be back sometime after the men who found me by the rock. Parts of me are sore that weren’t, and I must have taken quite a beating when I fought back. It doesn’t feel as bad as it was at the time, and the pain has dulled - but it is still there. My whole body feels like a toothache.

The ‘knights’ in the medieval armor that found me by the rock, this must be where I am after they put the bag over my head. After I escaped from the river and the hunters.

What is going on?

One moment I was under the diner’s counter, and now I’m here. Another time I left my house on a horse, and then I was staked out in a river. I was ambushed by a rock, knocked out, and then I was back home in bed with Brad - as my older self. After I fainted I was back on the horse. Somehow I am jumping around between these places, from one spot to another.

It happened when I lost consciousness, but this happened because I willed it? Did I will myself away out from under the counter and back here? Why here? What is this place? I have never been here before.

It feels like I’m jumping around in time and I have no control over it.

I have so many questions, and not one answer. I work my way up to the tiny barred window on the door and peer outside. Other cells sit across the way, and the hallway is patrolled by armored men with chain hoods and swords. Just like my favorite show, only I’m a prisoner in some dank dungeon. What would the characters on the show do?

Talk their way out of it, obviously, act, do some tricky play of words and escape in some sword-and-sorcery daring-do. I’m not a trained actress, nor do I know how to use a sword, so good luck there. I have my wings, I can steel them, slice things down, and protect myself - but all it would take is one lucky crossbow bolt or poke with a sword. My body is still very much flesh-and-blood, weak, and hurt easily.

Who are these people anyways? What do they want with me? Why capture me? If I was some sort of demon, wouldn’t they just kill me on the spot when they had the chance? Why bring me here?

A man screams in the distance. It’s a horrible, blood-curdling scream of agony. I back up a step when I hear it and close my eyes. I can feel the pain in this man’s pleas deep in my wing-roots. He screams again and I can’t bear it.

Please, just do what - I can’t, I can’t listen to him being tortured. Wherever you are, whoever you are, please, I wish you find peace and deliverance.

God, please, find some way to help this poor man. God please, you can ignore all my other prayers, and just give me this one. For him.

Nothing. Another scream echoes, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I will leave this one in your hands, God. Please.

How do I get out of here?

There’s some question here I don’t have the answer to, some meaning I am painfully unaware of. It feels like something everyone else can do that you can’t, you just sit there hating on it and getting frustrated, and you scream and give up in disgust. There’s some trick to this, some knack that everyone else gets that I don’t, and I’m sitting here making a fool of myself crying and not getting it, and just making it hard for everyone else around me.

Just like computer camp.

Oh God, I hated computer camp. I swear I would sit in front of that machine with my assignment and just cry my guts out until someone felt sorry enough to come over and help me. I was terrible, just a total pussy about the whole thing. Nobody could stand me either, and only Brad had the patience enough to help me through it.

Brad.

It’s where I met him, and we got to know each other those long hours spent next to each other as he helped me from freaking out. If it weren’t for computer camp, I would have never met him. I wish he were here, with his nerdy glasses, hunky body, and good-boy looks. I miss him so much.

What if were possible to go to him?

What if I could control this, just like I worked through stupid BASIC programming at computer camp? I step away from the window as a guard walks by. I press myself against the wall, calm myself, and think.

I can do this.

Men’s voices echo in the hall in a language I don’t understand, and the sounds of knights drawing closer make my heart race. Another scream echoes out from the poor man somewhere, am I next? I need to do this now.

I wrap my wings around myself and think, about home, about my children, and Brad. I need to go home now, before this ever happened. I need to stop this, to save everyone I ever loved. I focus, just like learning computers and math and biology and every other subject I hated in school. I focus on Shakespeare and Bach and Issac Newton, and try to remember everything my teachers said to me in class but I was too busy texting, playing games, and ignoring their words for a few laughs.

I try and master this like I ignored all that.

Oh God, why did I ever ignore all this stuff in class? How come nothing ever comes easy to me? I hear the footsteps draw closer, and a key is slipped into the lock. The sounds of crossbows being drawn back sends chills down my spine. I need to get out of here now, but how do I do this?

Relax. Focus. Give up on my frustrations. Take it slow. Think about nothing else. Give in to the feeling, give in to learning. Shove every other selfish thought from my messed-up head. Focus. Calm myself.

Think. Absorb the feeling. Give in to the lesson. Trust my teachers. They know what’s best. Refuse to be frustrated, go back over it, ask for help. Repeat this over and over until I get it.

Wisps of blackness cloud me thoughts. Visions of places I’ve never been. Thoughts on veils of black smoke trailing through innumerable possibilities and places. A face, I see a face. One I recognize. I turn and weave and wrap myself tightly in the strands of time.

I get it.

CHAPTER X:

In Darkness I Fly

I unwrap my wings from myself.

The skies are gray, and a light snow begins to fall. It’s not snow, it’s ash. I’m on the lawn to my house. My car is in the garage. The front walk is empty. My older self may have just gotten home. More ash begins to fall.

I know this story.

I walk towards my front door, sheathing my black wings behind myself. I walk with purpose, faster and faster, I want to know where I am, what time it is, where my older self is right now, where my children are, where Brad is.

I search the pockets of my shorts, no house keys. Just my dead phone. Of course I wouldn’t have any house keys, I didn’t have them when I went to bed. This was my parent’s house then, before we bought it and moved back in. They never really trusted me with the keys when I was growing up, and I felt like such a prisoner here. I’m just a teenager who doesn’t know better.

I strike the thought from my mind.

I do know better.

I reach for the door handle, but it swings open in front of me. Timothy and Clarissa are dressed up to play in the snow, their eyes wide with anticipation, their smiles bright and happy. I want to cry when I see them. They look at me in shock, and I scoop the two of them up in my arms before they run outside.

No, you’re not.

I place them down and slam the door shut.

I point at them, and they begin to cry. “Stay! Do not go outside!”

They run away from me, afraid. “Daddy! Daddy! Some girl grabbed us and brought us inside! We can’t play in the snow!”

My heart breaks again. Don’t they recognize their own mother? Am I that much of a stranger to them?

“Excuse me, who are-” It’s myself, my older self, and she’s standing on the other end of the front hall looking at me. I look in my eyes. “You know who this is.”

I storm past her, my black wings pushing her into the stairwell, chasing my…her kids. “Brad! Don’t let them out the back door!”

“Sure thing Hun, what is so wrong?” Brad has them both in his arms, and he’s sitting them at the kitchen table. “You two listen to your mother.” He looks up at me and his jaw drops.

“Jess? Is that you Jess?”

He used to call me Jess back in high school.

“Oh crap.” Brad blinks as the older me appears behind myself from the hall. “Jessica? Two?”

“What, who are you?” the older me says from behind me. “These wings, you have wings, what’s with this, why are they black? Is this some sort of joke?”

I turn to her, angry, “This is happening because you messed up your life! Sit down and shut up!”

“Jess?” Brad walks over. “Jess is that you? Oh my God, what is going on?”

“This isn’t me Brad, it’s some stupid kid!” My older self pulls out her cell phone. “It’s a costume. I’m calling the cops.”

Gee, thanks.

I knew I could never trust myself.

“Listen to me both of you!” Jesus Christ why does this have to be so hard? “People are going to die today! This is some sort of natural disaster! Come with me.”

The kids begin to get up. I point at them and say in my best stern and motherly voice. “You two sit there until mommy comes for you, am I clear?”

They begin to cry, but dammit, I am not taking any crap from my kids today.

“You have no right speaking to my children that way!” My older self is protesting, dialing on her phone. “Brad, get her out of here, she’s scaring the children! Miss, you better leave now before the cops come, you are way out of line coming in my house!”

“Miss,” Brad says, grabbing my arm, his eyes flashing recognition when he gets close to me, “Miss, I’m sorry, I know you thought this was funny, but you have to go.”

“Brad, listen to me. Tell myself over there to listen too. Come on, come with me!”

“I am not you, Missy!” Myself dials her cell phone, gets a busy signal and scowls at me. “Brad get her out of my sight! 9-1-1 is not working. Get her out of my house!”

I walk to the front door, wrestling away from Brad. He follows me, likely making sure I get out of the house. Dammit, when I need people to trust me, nothing ever works. It’s not like I have time to get to know my future self and discuss this calmly, I just saved my kids and likely the rest of them. Dammit, I can be so unappreciative and bull-headed at times.

I open the front door. “Look!”

Brad tries to step past me, but I put a hand on his chest. “No, don’t go out! Just look.”

The Tanner’s red minivan coasts to a stop across the street, its window open, Mr. Tanner sitting in the driver’s seat, his arm still out of the window, his body a solid pile of ash. His baseball cap falls through his head as it melts away in a cloud of soot, his death-like smile shattering in a clatter of bones from his teeth falling away.