Broken Page 9

  "Why are you crying? Do you miss your parents?"

  "I don’t remember them," the girl sobbed. "I can’t even remember my name!"

  "Your name is Silverwing," he said calmly. "That’s what your badge says."

  "But it—it isn’t really my name," she managed, sniffling. "I can’t remember what my momma called me… I have to think…" She started crying again.

  The boy put his arm around her. "Don’t cry. Your old name meant nothing. It was just words. My name was Robbie. But I don’t care—it doesn’t mean what Little Hawk does. And whatever your old name was, it isn’t as good as Silverwing."

  She wasn’t really reassured, but she wanted Little Hawk to like her, so she tried to stop crying to show him he'd helped. After a few sniffles and hiccups, the tears slowed. "You really think so?"

  "I like Silverwing," he said. "Did you make it up?"

  She shook her head. "Triad did."

  He nodded. "She likes making names. She does a good job. She did Crimson Cadet’s. His is really cool."

  She agreed that it was. Everyone envied Crimson Cadet. He was big, good-looking, and fun to be around.

  "How long have you been here?" Little Hawk asked.

  "Three years," she said, feeling the tears well up in her again. She tried to fight them back.

  "That’s not too long. Maybe you’ll feel better in a while. Hey, what can you do? I can fly, and I have extra strength and speed."

  She smiled, a genuine smile this time. "I fly, too."

  "Want to go fly for a bit?"

  She shook her head, surprised. "We’re not allowed!"

  He grinned cockily. "I can do whatever I want. Who’ll punish me for it? C’mon. Race you to the top of the tower."

  "Okay." She stood and lifted herself a few inches off the ground. He did likewise.

  "Ready? Go!" They arced upwards, twisting and whirling around the edges of the tower.

  Silverwing was easily twice as fast as Little Hawk; she saw it immediately. She checked her speed a little, letting him keep up. She glanced over at him, and saw a look of incredible strain and concentration on his face. It looked like flying for him was work. She flew without effort.

  He touched the top of the tower a split second before she did. "Yeah!" he called out to the sky. "Yaaaaah!" He beamed at her. "You’re good."

  She shivered with delight. Supposedly, Little Hawk was one of the fastest fliers. Not even bearded, mysterious Sky Ranger could quite outmatch him. Was she so much faster than anyone else? She smiled secretly and looked down. Below was the street, separated from the tower by a high steel fence. Only a slim, covered walkway connected them to the outside world.

  But who could control the sky? The world lay open before her, the clouds beckoning. Who would stop her if she decided to leave?

  She had a vague feeling that she ought to fly south, maybe towards a beach. But what was there? Who would she recognize? She drifted slowly to the ground, thirty stories below, peeking in windows as she passed. Inside, children learned, LED members trained, doctors studied charts and diagrams, and people simply lived. The Tower was a world unto itself. There was no need to go outside. No need at all…

  Dimly, she had the feeling that she was a prisoner here. But it didn’t matter. As long as she could fly, everything was all right.

  The boy did not float down after her. He was looping around the spire of the Tower, yelling and whooping with sheer joy. She saw a man in a trailing blue cape slip out an opening in the upper floors. He was old, with a white beard. He caught up to the boy, then flew around him. They circled one another, racing around the building, then speeding off together into the distance.

  Who could doubt, now? Little Hawk would be Sky Cadet, and then Sky Ranger someday. He was the crown prince of the Union. No one would punish him.

  Not so for Silverwing. Triad was waiting for her when she got back to her room. Three weeks of dishroom duty was now hers, for flying without permission.

  * * *

  Flip… flip… Broken’s memory, like the leaves of a book, fluttered back and forth in the wind.

  * * *

  Crimson Cadet was covered in blood. "What happened?" Silverwyng demanded, clutching his arm.

  "He—he was shot," Sky Ranger said, face ashen. "While we were assisting the CA police, they shot him!"

  "Who shot him?"

  Crimson Cadet moaned. Dark red blood mixed with the orange-red of his outfit.

  "The CA cops did!" Sky Ranger wailed. "I don’t know why!"

  He flew from the room, knocking down everything and everyone in his path.

  Strong Rex had been there, too. "It isn’t a lie," he said. "The Colonization Authority’s cops called us to help them bust some smugglers. But it was an ambush. Sky and me got out of the way. But Crim got shot. We had to go back to get him."

  It would come out later that the CA had taken bribes from several large criminal rings to take out some of the Extrahumans. But Sky Ranger wouldn’t find that out until later. When he did, he would be furious.

  I was supposed to go on that patrol, Silverwyng thought. But she hadn’t. Her powers were so erratic, she wasn’t allowed to fly anywhere. Sky Ranger, Doc, and Lucky all had forbidden it. So Crimson Cadet had gone in her place, and now here he lay, bleeding. It figured. They could have shot Silverwyng all they liked. She would heal. Crimson Cadet wouldn’t.

  He coughed up blood and called out , delirious. Doc worked furiously, Lucky at his side. Lucky seemed frantic, almost to the point of dementia. "Come on," she was muttering. "This should work." Even Doc seemed rattled.

  "Crimson—" Silverwyng began to say.

  "Jack!" he cried.

  They stared at him, speechless.

  "My name is Jack," he said, calm now, a smile blooming on his face. "I remember it now."

  And he died, smiling still.

  Lucky ran her hands over him in disbelief. "No," she murmured. "No. No."

  "Crim?" Strong Rex whispered, then burst into tears.

  "No," Lucky repeated. "I can’t lose him. I don’t lose people."

  Later, she would collapse in Silverwyng’s arms, moaning, "I never lost a patient! Ever! What’s happening to me, Sil?" Silverwyng had no answers. Her own abilities were failing her. What reassurance could she offer?

  Silverwyng wanted to go after Sky Ranger, but found her feet were rooted to the floor.

  "Not now!" she cried. "Fly!" She ran and threw herself into the air, but crashed to the ground, sobbing hysterically. "Fly… I’m not broken… I can fly…" she repeated, over and over, until she had lost all sense of the words.

  * * *

  Flip, flip, flip… Head on the table, Broken did not sleep, but let her memories go where they would.

  * * *

  "You’re sure?" Red Knight asked. He didn’t seem convinced.

  "Yeah!" Silverwyng said enthusiastically. "I could offer a lot to the team. I can fly fast, much faster than Sky Ca—Sky Ranger—and I can heal quickly. I can do a lot!"

  Red Knight glowered at her. "You’re sure this isn’t because of our new Sky Ranger? He’ll be head of the squad soon."

  She nodded, caught, but not willing to show it. "No. I really want to do this."

  He frowned, but relented. "All right, then. But this isn’t easy. We don’t have time for people to shirk."

  She broke into a grateful grin. "I understand! When do I report for training?"

  "Three weeks; the 23rd, at nine in the morning. Crim and Sky will be leading the session. I expect you to act professionally." The huge, well-muscled man studied her. "Sil, this may not be the right line of work for you. You’re too sensitive. This whole thing can get very… disturbing. I don’t want you cracking up."

  She stood her ground. "I’m stronger than I look. I won’t crack."

  Red Knight grunted in response. "We’ll see. The 23rd at nine. See you there." She got up and left quickly, before he could change his mind.

  * * *

  Flip…


  A beach… waves crashed ashore off in the distance.

  She reached down to the tide pool… a crab the color of the endless sky reached back…

  * * *

  Flip… flip…

  "I’ll never trust the government again," Sky Ranger said grimly.

  "It wasn’t the government," Strong Rex said. "The CA is corrupt, yeah, but—"

  "Crimson Cadet is dead because the government allows them to exist." His eyes burned with hatred. "I’ll make them regret it."

  * * *

  Flip… flip… flip…

  "I love you," Silverwyng whispered to him. They were making love, far above the roofs and treetops, where no one could see them. The moonlight illuminated his perfect body. She ran her hands over his chest, clenching her feet as he moved inside her.

  He didn’t say anything.

  For a horrible second, he looked terrifying, half shadow, half reflected sunlight. His eyes… his eyes… they didn’t seem human.

  A trick of the light, she told herself later, for when she looked again, he was normal. Finished, he smiled down at her as they glided over the clouds, still joined together.

  * * *

  Flip…

  Triad and Brick were giving the lesson. It was a special day; all the Union’s children were gathered together. "The Union," said kind, ancient Brick, "was set up to be a place for everyone like us to belong. If it didn’t exist, we’d have nowhere to go. People sometimes don’t trust us. Can anyone imagine why?"

  Crimson Cadet’s voice boomed out. "They don’t like us ‘cause we’re different. Right?"

  Triad nodded. "That’s true, Crim. It’s a sad fact. But humans are like that."

  “Not all humans,” said Brick. She smiled sadly. “But many.”

  "They’re jealous," said the first Sky Cadet, who sat between Crim and Little Hawk. "They just can’t stand that we’re so great, right?" He and Crimson Cadet were good friends. They slapped hands together. Little Hawk looked on, plainly jealous.

  "Well, yes and no. Maybe that’s part of it," old Sky Ranger said, stroking his white beard, as he entered the room. "But it’s mostly just a distrust of what’s different and strange. Crimson is right, and S.C. is right, as well. There are other reasons, too, but those are the main ones."

  "What are the other reasons?" Valor asked. Silverwing didn’t like Valor; he was too smart.

  Sky Ranger didn’t speak for a while. "Better to ask me that again, some other time," he said, clearly troubled. After the class was done, Sky Ranger took Valor aside and spoke with him for a long time.

  Valor said later that Sky Ranger told him that he was afraid people associated the Union with the heavy-handedness and corruption of their government. "He said it's better that people hate the UNP, too, even though they’re in charge. He said especially because they’re in charge, and we’re like the UNP in a way." Valor seemed to understand it. Silverwing didn’t care.

  Then everyone forgot all about it a week later when Sky Cadet came back from a late night bruised and bleeding. He had fallen off a roof, but forgot to fly. Silverwing, who flew down corridors instead of walking, couldn’t imagine how that was possible. But he had, and soon he died despite everything Doc tried to save him.

  * * *

  Flip...

  "Extrahumans," complained a young, impatient Sky Ranger bitterly. "Like we’re something extra. Not really human. Just something else that the rest of them don’t need."

  "That’s surprisingly insightful," sighed Doc.

  Silverwyng said nothing. Hurry up. I want to fly, I want to fly again, she thought impatiently.

  * * *

  Flip… flip…

  "You’re wrong," said Crimson Cadet. "You can’t be paranoid all the time. And the Reform Party is bad news."

  "I’ll do as I like," Sky Ranger snapped. "Just because you don’t understand the Party—"

  "I understand 'em plenty! They’re a bunch of fascists! I know that much. They want to tell you what to think!"

  "Well," retorted Sky Ranger , "Maybe someone ought to tell people how to think. Then they won’t make so many bad choices."

  "You’re an idiot," Crimson Cadet spat, storming out. Silverwyng, hovering at the window, held her breath. Sky Ranger looked directly at her.

  "Go away, Sil," he commanded.. She flew off, despondent.

  * * *

  Flip… flip… flip… flip…

  "I can’t do anything," Doc said. "I’m sorry."

  "But…" whispered Silverwyng. "But… what do I do?"

  Doc shrugged. "You can live a normal life here in the Tower, doing research, teaching… there are a lot of other things to do here."

  "But flying—" Silverwyng started, and found she couldn’t finish. She ran from the room, not caring. Sky Ranger stood in the atrium, lost in thought.

  "Sky—" she began. "Sky?"

  "Go away, Sil," he said shortly. "I need to be alone."

  She pulled up short. "I can’t fly."

  "I don’t care," he barked. "Get out of my sight!"

  Silverwyng did not cry, but simply walked down to her room. She opened the window and, without a thought, jumped out. She pushed off, trying to gain as much distance as she could.

  She landed just outside the fence, and died at once. Her rebellious body knitted itself back together, and she awoke in agony. She crawled to an alley and hid.

  They would come for her. There was an implant in her shoulder; they could track her.

  She had a knife. She gritted her teeth and sawed her arm off. She passed out twice before she was done, but the arm finally fell free. She blacked out again, and awoke with her new arm half finished.

  Broken stood unsteadily, and clutched Silverwyng’s arm in her hand. She threw it over the fence, back toward the Tower. With that, she walked off into the night.

  * * *

  Flip… flip… the book slammed shut.

  * * *

  Broken roused herself. Michael and Monica sat beside her.

  "You were crying," Michael said softly. "Are you all right?"

  She nodded slowly. "I’m fine."

  Monica quickly, almost dismissively, hugged Broken, as women sometimes hug one another for comfort and solidarity. Then she tried to let go, but Broken had wrapped her strong arms around her, burying her head on Monica’s shoulder.

  Memory was...

  If only she could cut it off, like the arm. If only…

  [CHAPTER 14]

  The news from the other refugees in the library hadn’t been encouraging. All mass transit had been shut down. All flights had been grounded. The Army and the Black Bands had set up checkpoints on all of the roads heading to and from the city.

  "I heard a story," one old man whispered in Michael’s ear. "I heard that in one of the camps the Army set up, they started to check everyone’s ID. Anyone who was a UNP member had to stay in the camp. The rest were let go. And you know what happened next?"

  "What?" Michael asked, dreading the answer.

  "They started arresting ‘em. Some were shot right there."

  "Where’d you hear that from?"

  The old man was already turning, off to breathe his news in another ear, but not before Michael had glanced up at him. He’d tell that story until the day he died, about the government killing refugees. He would make it a little more dangerous each time, a little more obvious, a little worse.

  Then the government would come and arrest him. He’d die in prison not long after. He’d never get to find out whether his story was true or not.

  * * *

  Broken had cheered up considerably, as far as they could tell, and changed Ian on her own. She did a good job.

  "We used to help out with babies in the Tower," she muttered by way of explanation.

  "You’ll have to tell us what it was like to live there, someday," Monica said.

  Broken shrugged. Michael studied her, allowing the possibilities to form and swirl all around her. He had tried not to see what lay ahead sinc
e the last time, when the thin man had appeared in each…

  —The thin man boarded his light, aerodynamic flyer and laughed. Ian was in his arms.

  —"I’m just like you," the thin man said to Michael before he shot him.

  —"I saw this coming. Why didn’t you?" said the thin man to Michael before he shot him.

  —"Shut up!" screamed the thin man; he leveled his gun at Michael’s forehead, and pulled the trigger.

  —The thin man said nothing, and shot Michael.

  He was still there. Michael squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the visions out.

  "We need to go," he said. "Now."

  Monica looked at him. "Why not stay here?"

  "Trust me," he seethed. "Let’s go."

  They trusted him. Broken and Monica picked up what they had, Broken cradling Ian, and followed him out.

  They trusted him, but they shouldn’t, he thought bitterly. He had no idea what to do next. He hadn’t seen anything but his own end at the hands of the thin man, all through the eyes of a Broken who didn’t exist yet. There was nothing else.

  No move he made could be right. So what should he do?

  Keep going, he told himself. Better to keep going. You’ll figure something out. For now, just keep moving.

  * * *

  They started walking south, towards New Jersey and the vast spaceport that occupied the Delmarva Peninsula. The weather was frigid, and slowly growing worse. Snow started to fall; first the odd flake, then a few more, and soon a full-blown blizzard.

  "We need to find a place to stay for the night," Monica cried, straining to be heard over the howling wind.

  "You don’t say," growled Michael, more to himself than Monica. She couldn’t hear him anyway.

  * * *

  The snow flew fast and thick. Michael leaned into the wind as they struggled to keep moving forward.

  "Are we in New Jersey yet?" Broken asked. She was holding Ian inside her coat, pressed to her chest.

  "Don’t know," Michael said shortly.

  "Michael!" Monica called. "I think I see a house up ahead!"