Breeze’s head lolled forward, and Alya realised that she was out. She’d fainted and although Alya was strong, at the speed they were going she couldn’t slow down without Breeze’s help.

  ‘Breeze!’ she screamed, as she locked the girl even tighter, now even more scared to let her go now that she realised she was unconscious. ‘Breeze!’ she screamed again. She was truly in a panic. Alya could slow down no problem but the momentum and their trajectory would mean that Breeze would propel forward out of her grasp.

  ‘Here!’ It was Hanuel and Red.

  They came from either side of her and as if they’d been training their whole lives for it they manoeuvred into position slightly ahead and below Alya and grabbed Breeze’s arms. Then without saying a word they all deployed at the same time, their wings accommodating each other’s movements as they flew dangerously close together.

  ‘Is she alright?’ said Hanuel.

  Red sat with Breeze’s head in his lap, two fingers on the pulse in her wrist.

  ‘I can’t blame her for fainting,’ he said. He tried to grin but his top lip wobbled as he scanned Breeze’s pale features.

  They sat in silence on the dusty ground, too exhausted to do anything.

  Breeze began to stir and she opened her eyes groggily to see Red looking down at her, deeply concerned.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, and her hand came up limply to stroke his face.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling down at her. They smiled at each other for a while and Alya and Hanuel glanced at each other, feeling a little bit intrusive of her and Red’s moment together.

  Alya staggered to her feet and came to investigate Breeze’s condition.

  ‘Do you think you can stand?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Breeze bravely. She clambered to her feet with assistance, wincing as she felt every muscle in her body straining.

  ‘How are your wings?’ said Alya concerned. She didn’t want to voice that she thought Breeze’s wings must be broken. The girl had tumbled twenty or thirty times, and her wings had flailed about like broken sails in a storm.

  ‘Oh, ouch,’ winced Breeze, trying to flex them. The pain etched across her face and Red put out a hand to help her.

  ‘Just slowly,’ said Hanuel, taking over from Alya. ‘Can you feel any breaks?’

  Breeze took her time as she lifted her wings very slowly. Alya felt along them gently and it transpired that she was bruised and overstretched but her wings weren’t broken.

  They were relieved, and set off across the fields at a very sedentary pace on their way back home.

  It took four hours to reach the main road and Breeze was exhausted. They eventually reached a monorail terminal, and Red took Breeze back to Petersburg, a large town almost at the centre of The Basin where she was staying with family for the holidays.

  Alya and Hanuel had regained some of their energy and used the launch platform from the terminal to fly the rest of the way home. They barely spoke when they got in and went for showers before dinner.

  By seven p.m. they’d perked up a lot and were ravenous, and sat on the back porch as the smells of Poppy’s barbeque meandered their way across the warm summer air.

  ‘You two look exhausted,’ said Pasha, as she brought the salad to the table. ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘We flew all day,’ said Alya, not relying on Hanuel for a non-incriminating response. He couldn’t lie and technically speaking she wasn’t; they had flown all day, but they had also flown in a, no-fly zone.

  ‘Hello?’ A familiar voice came around the side of the house.

  ‘Red,’ cried Pasha. ‘It’s so good to see you again. Look Seb, it’s Red; loving the new hair Red. It suits you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ grinned Red, taking the chair that Pasha had indicated for him.

  ‘You, ok?’ said Alya, smiling at him as she handed him a bread bun.

  ‘I am thanks. Breeze is fine too. I’m not sure she’ll come flying with us again but she’s still my girlfriend, just.’

  ‘Oh what?’ said Pasha. ‘Who’s this? Why don’t you bring her along?’

  ‘Thanks, Pasha,’ said Red politely. ‘We’ve not been going out that long and she’s not used to flying as far as we did today, so she’s gone home to recover.’

  Red looked at his bread bun as he spun the yarn. He looked up at Hanuel and Hanuel couldn’t help but smile. This Red was different from last year’s Red he thought. He wasn’t as cocky or as talkative. He’d definitely calmed down, and after today, any doubts that Hanuel may have had about him—about him being in it for himself, had disappeared.

  He looked at Red and grinned, then said. ‘So Red, what are you up to tomorrow?’

  Alya awoke at two a.m. It was Poppy again, she felt sure. She was immediately alert and sharp. She walked quietly down the darkened hallway keeping her distance as she waited for him to launch. Alya heard the downbeat of wings as her grandpa took off with great effort from the back porch grunting as he gained altitude.

  Alya went out onto the porch when she was sure he was in flight. Then she looked at her bare feet and realised she was hardly dressed for a cool evening’s flight, in light cotton shorts and vest, but it was too late to change. She could make out her grandpa’s shape easily in the half moonlight but she’d have to go now if she wanted to keep him in her sights. She ran two steps then launched effortlessly from the porch steps climbing vertically until she was above her grandpa, then she set off after him.

  Alya had the advantage of V20 wings which were considerably lighter and shorter than the wings her grandpa had been born with. The tips of her wings only extended beyond her fingertips by about ten centimetres either side and they had major dexterity which made most tasks easier such as dressing, swimming and of course, flying. They were also quieter, and Alya could hear the sound of her grandpa’s wings as he flew, the sound like tarpaulin being ravaged in the wind.

  She crept closer, her grandpa below and about fifty metres ahead of her. She kept him in her sights as they flew directly south for about twenty-miles until he began to gain altitude.

  Alya couldn’t understand where he was headed. Her Aunt Nami lived north so it wasn’t her he was going to see. What was he up to?

  Poppy continued to gain altitude, and Alya increased hers to match, ensuring she kept a safe distance. He was ascending higher still and she couldn’t understand at all what he was doing. Suddenly out of the gloom she saw flashing red lights ahead. Intermittent and at varying heights they highlighted the main communication mast in The Basin. It reached a height of three-hundred-feet, and was used to beam TV and radio to The Basin residents.

  Poppy circled the tower several times as if he was looking for something, and then eventually came into land at a corner ledge which looked narrow and precarious. Alya continued to circle above him, at times the mast stays obscuring her visual of him. She saw him unclip ropes from a safety harness wrapped around his torso and attach it to something on the mast, then tugging sharply to ensure it was attached.

  Alya could tell by her grandpa’s efficiency that he’d done this several times before. She continued to circle, curious and also worried for his safety so high up, and in the dark.

  Her grandpa was busy retrieving items from the bag he carried, and Alya could just about make out what he was doing, as he attached a wireless to wires feeding up the mast to the antenna.

  Alya continued to circle soundlessly above his head using the thermal lift to keep her quietly elevated above his head.

  ‘Come in Juliet, this is Lone Ranger.’

  Alya heard her grandpa speak, followed by static as she strained to hear.

  ‘Hello, Lone Ranger, this is, Juliet. Perfect timing.’

  The voice on the other end sounded relieved thought Alya, and somewhat familiar too. A ripple of cold air made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Was she cold or had she just realised where she knew that voice from?

  ‘Good to hear your voice, Juliet,’ said Seb. ‘How are you? Are you feeling well?’

  ‘Better than yesterday, Lone Ranger,’ said the voice humorously. ‘There are good days and bad, you know?’

  ‘Hang in there, kid,’ said Seb. ‘You’re doing fine. I’m working on the plan. You know it will take time.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry about me, take your time. It’s got to be right the first time.’

  Alya listened as the exchanges continued. She thought about interrupting them but she was worried she’d scare her grandpa off the ledge and she wasn’t convinced that his harness was secure. If she was honest though, she didn’t really want to speak to the person on the other end of the radio channel either, she wouldn’t know what to say.

  Seb’s conversation continued for a few more minutes with cryptic references to a plan that Alya didn’t understand.

  Seb said goodbye across the airwaves and dismantled his equipment, stashing it back in his bag, and then he unhooked his harness and launched himself back into the air.

  It seemed that Seb felt buoyed by his late-night encounter and Alya had to keep pace with him on the flight home.

  Alya had already processed what had happened, but during the course of their return flight, she had grown irritated by her grandpa’s late-night liaison. If her parents knew, they would be livid, as she was sure her grandma would be too. She couldn’t wait any longer, they were nearly home and she had to have it out with him before her grandma found out.

  She honed in on him and then glided effortlessly alongside him banking slightly and causing a down draught that caused him to go slightly off course.

  ‘Gods almighty, Alya!’ shrieked her grandpa. He clutched his heart as if he were indeed about to have a heart attack then glared at her, his dark features highlighted by the moon. ‘What are doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘I followed you,’ said Alya bluntly. She waited a moment for her grandpa to regain his composure and then she said coolly. ‘Do you want to explain to me why my dead cousin is talking to you on the radio?’

  5

  The Dinner Fight

  ‘How was it, Alya?’ said Alya’s father Sol.

  ‘Oh, you know,’ she nodded distractedly. ‘It was good.’

  Sol tapped the table top and looked at his daughter quizzically. There was no place Alya would rather be than at her grandparents’ house, flying, riding, swimming, mucking around with Hanuel. This subdued response wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

  ‘Did you not have a nice time?’ he said gently.

  Alya stopped setting the table and caught her father’s concerned gaze. She wanted to tell him what she’d discovered, but once again she’d promised Poppy she wouldn’t say anything. It was very hard for her to keep it to herself and if Hanuel hadn’t been in on it too she knew she would have blabbed by now.

  She didn’t relish secrets. The one about her and Hanuel being able to take-off from submersion had been fine. Poppy was precious about his conspiracy theories, and truth be told, a little bit paranoid, but that was after years as a Patrol Officer so he had every right to be; he’d seen it all in his line of work. Alya and the rest of the family just went along with it for a quiet life, and when Poppy had taught her and Hanuel how to pull their little behinds free of the water they had laughed about it at first, but then even to their minds there was that tiny element of doubt, doubt in the system, and consequently belief in Poppy, that had led them to keep their mouths shut.

  This, on the other hand, was a whole different type of lie. Alya felt sad, but more than that, she felt afraid for the first time ever. If what Poppy was saying were true then her cousin Leo had been kidnapped and was being held somewhere out in the ocean, on a metal island, like the drawings she’d seen at the museum. If Poppy had told her everything then Alya had to believe that his drowning accident during a seabed project was a cover-up, but to what end? What had he done that the government, or whoever it was, would want kept secret? He was fresh out of Uni, a marine engineer for the Gods’ sakes.

  Her poor Aunt Nami; believing her only child had died at sea had nearly killed her. She was only just turning a corner and Gods knows how long it would be until she could see him again, if ever. Poppy refused to tell her until Leo was home and dry, and so her torture would continue until then, or until Alya broke her vow and told her.

  ‘What time does Bruce get here?’ asked Alya, trying to take her mind off her predicament.

  ‘Er, about seven-thirty,’ said Sol, rubbing his fingers against the temples of his newly trimmed black hair. He got to his feet to help Alya set the table. ‘Are you excited, Aly?’

  ‘Excited?’

  ‘Yes, about the Olympics,’ laughed Sol, ‘Aly, you really aren’t on this planet, are you? Are you tired?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ nodded Alya, hoping her father would be satisfied with his own presumption.

  ‘Ok, well it won’t be a late night tonight anyway. Once the others go home, I’ll be going to bed promptly. I’ve got a big case next week and I’ve got review it before we head out in the morning.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah, loads of bans and cautions to be issued in a tenement in East-Side.’

  ‘They never have much luck,’ said Alya sadly. She thought about poor Red living in East-Side and trying so hard to make a better life for himself. She’d invited him to the opening ceremony of the Olympics as they had a spare seat, and thankfully the kind farmer he was working for said he could go. She doubted that Red had ever had the money to go to the Olympics before and she was pleased she could share her opportunity.

  ‘No, they don’t,’ said Sol, pinching his lips together, ‘but then some of them court disaster.’

  Alya finished making the table look nice and observed her father’s expression. ‘Or maybe they’re victims of circumstance.’ She spoke hotly and then checked herself lowering her eyes to the tablecloth.

  ‘What’s the matter, Aly? You’re not yourself tonight. What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Alya, dismissing her father’s concern. She decided she had reflected enough for one day and changed her attitude in an instant replacing her frown with a smile.

  ‘I’m fine, Dad, and actually, I am truly so excited about the Olympics, I can’t wait. Twenty hours and counting.’

  The doorbell went and Alya rushed to open it, and as soon as she did was mobbed by Uncle Bruce, a giant of a man, who blew raspberries into her neck.

  Alya giggled and pushed him off. It was ridiculous behaviour for a grown man and a teenage girl but she didn’t mind. Bruce was so incredibly funny and Alya had never forgotten how he’d blaze into the hospital ward when she was little, rushing around the nurses and doctors and whipping up a storm of hilarity. He’d have Alya and some of her small sick friends giggling and bouncing on their beds until he was ordered out. Whoever ended up with Bruce would need a good sense of humour and the energy to match his own.

  ‘Aly, babe,’ said Bruce, his brown eyes sparkling as he gently pushed a tall brunette forward by way of introduction. ‘This is, Dali. My fiancé.’

  Alya gaped, partly because Dali was tall and stunning but partly because Uncle Bruce now had a fiancé!

  Dali laughed and declined Alya’s politely extended hand and went in for a hug instead.

  ‘Hi, Aly,’ she said. ‘Bruce, has told me so much about you. I dare not have any girls when we’re married because I know they’ll never compare to you.’ She beamed and her brown eyes twinkled, immediately drawing Alya in.

  Alya laughed out loud. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was only two months ago that these two had met and all of a sudden, they were getting married and having children. She was truly delighted though, and Dali was giving her the right vibe. If anyone deserved their soulmate it was Bruce; he’d waited long enough.

  ‘C-come in,’ stammered Alya, showing Dali through to the dining area.

  ‘Oh, gorgeous,’ said Dali, removing her coat and crossing the cool stone threshold. She looked up and around at the high oak ceilings commenting on the twenty-first-century design with recessed lighting and the original air-conditioning grates. ‘Fabulous,’ she cooed, when Alya showed her the view from the open balcony. The building was halfway up the rocky, outer perimeter of Continent One and they were on the tenth floor, so had a great view over the tops of buildings further down and then out to the open ocean.

  Alya helped Dali get her bearings.

  ‘So, if you go two streets down, you’d be near the Sunday market and the park, and then one block to the left is Washington Drive, and then three blocks to the right is the hospital and another block is my school.’

  ‘Oh, it’s just lovely,’ said Dali, accepting the glass of sparkling wine Alya’s father had just poured.

  ‘Dali, so pleased to meet you at last,’ said Alya’s mother, suddenly arriving from the kitchen where she was cooking up a storm.

  Alya smiled as the two women exchanged hugs and compliments while she thought about an excuse not to be a bridesmaid. There was no way she was going to be walking around in some ridiculous, over the top dress, even for Uncle Bruce.

  ‘Door,’ cried Alya, rushing to open the door for Hanuel, his parents and sister. Alya pulled Hanuel through the door delighted to see him. She winked at him and he smiled bemusedly. When he’d last seen her this afternoon, she’d been unusually subdued with the weight of keeping the secret that Leo was still alive, but he could see that she’d picked up enormously.

  ‘Hey wait,’ said Hanuel, as Alya gave him no time to remove his jacket before pushing him forward and presenting him to Dali.

  She then pushed Hanuel’s parents forward and the conversation reached a crescendo as drinks were poured and introductions made, exclamations such as ‘we thought he would never meet anyone, except his own reflection,’ were met with roars of laughter. Even Trin joined in with the merriment, accepting a small glass of wine from Sol and toasting the newly engaged couple.

  Diana rushed back to the kitchen when the smell of overcooked onions drifted towards them and Sol ushered people to the dining table.

 

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