swirling and crackling until it disappears altogether. The irises turn red, like two Pearls right in front of me.
The man doesn’t blink. He doesn’t open his mouth or move his face at all. For a moment I wonder if he’s dead, but he continues to stare at me, eyes locked onto mine as we tumble.
His grip tightens on my back. My own expression loses all composure. I must look more horrified and pathetic than ever, but if the man notices, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t scream or shout. His attention never strays.
In one fluid motion, he lays pressure on my right arm and flips me. We twist so that his back is to the ground. I watch the tundra grow closer and closer, a dark sheet of dirt and rock that will mark my last living moments.
We begin to slow. The wind calms as we defy gravity. The sky feels heavy. We crawl through it. I have a moment to tilt my head and watch the mountains. But I can’t see the Skyship. We’ve drifted too far away.
We fall, slower until it’s like we’re not moving at all. The man stares at me the entire time, wide-eyed and mute. Never blinking.
I consider speaking—screaming, even—but before I can make any sound at all, his fingers unlatch and he brings up his knees to prod me in the stomach. I fly in an arch over his head, rolling through the air until I hit the dirt and land hard on my chest.
It takes a moment before I’m able to compose myself. The breath flows back into my lungs. I push myself onto my hands and knees and cough. I’m covered in dirt. Tiny shards of rocks dig themselves into my skin.
As soon as I’m able, I stand and spin to see if the man is still there.
He is. Closer than I remembered.
He stands several yards from me, arms at his sides. Black shirt, black pants. Only his face is visible in the moonlight. From this distance, all I can see clearly are the eyes.
They pierce the darkness like twin beacons, reflective in the night like a cat’s.
And there’s something else—a loop of black metal attached to a chain around his neck. I wouldn’t notice it against the dark shirt, except that it shines with a glint of moonlight. It’s the only adornment on his simple clothing, and matches the sheen of my bracelet.
I back away, fearful of what he might do. But the fact is, at the last possible moment, he saved me.
I cough again, trying to find my voice. The man stands in silence and stares. Then, with the only whisper I have left, I clear my throat and speak. It’s probably a shot in the dark, but I have to try.
“D-dad?”
It comes out smaller than I mean it to. The wind snaps most of the sound away before it even reaches the guy. I try again.
“Dad?”
He blinks. Then, without a word, he turns and runs.
“Wait!” I follow the best I can, but he’s too fast. “Don’t run away!”
His legs pump like pistons along the barren terrain until he’s running with more velocity than a shuttle. I keel over in exhaustion and watch him. His silhouette shrinks as he escapes into the distance. Then, just as he’s about to disappear altogether, he crouches and jumps.
And flies.
I watch the man shoot into the sky like the blast of a cannon. A blink of an eye and he’s gone.
I collapse to my knees and stare at the stars, waiting for him to loop around and come back.
He doesn’t. Maybe he never will.
12
Cassius squirmed in the restraints. His left foot had itched for the last twenty minutes, right on the sole where he didn’t have a chance of scratching. Worse than that, he desperately wanted to reach behind and pull Madame’s device from his neck, but she was right. Even if he’d had control of his arms, he couldn’t feel a thing back there. No tingle or rawness from a scar. But he knew it was inside. That was enough.
Various Unified Party officials had been in throughout the day, spoon feeding him breakfast and lunch. The woman in the morning had been downright chatty, blabbering like he was her long lost grandson. The lunch guy— younger
The man doesn’t blink. He doesn’t open his mouth or move his face at all. For a moment I wonder if he’s dead, but he continues to stare at me, eyes locked onto mine as we tumble.
His grip tightens on my back. My own expression loses all composure. I must look more horrified and pathetic than ever, but if the man notices, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t scream or shout. His attention never strays.
In one fluid motion, he lays pressure on my right arm and flips me. We twist so that his back is to the ground. I watch the tundra grow closer and closer, a dark sheet of dirt and rock that will mark my last living moments.
We begin to slow. The wind calms as we defy gravity. The sky feels heavy. We crawl through it. I have a moment to tilt my head and watch the mountains. But I can’t see the Skyship. We’ve drifted too far away.
We fall, slower until it’s like we’re not moving at all. The man stares at me the entire time, wide-eyed and mute. Never blinking.
I consider speaking—screaming, even—but before I can make any sound at all, his fingers unlatch and he brings up his knees to prod me in the stomach. I fly in an arch over his head, rolling through the air until I hit the dirt and land hard on my chest.
It takes a moment before I’m able to compose myself. The breath flows back into my lungs. I push myself onto my hands and knees and cough. I’m covered in dirt. Tiny shards of rocks dig themselves into my skin.
As soon as I’m able, I stand and spin to see if the man is still there.
He is. Closer than I remembered.
He stands several yards from me, arms at his sides. Black shirt, black pants. Only his face is visible in the moonlight. From this distance, all I can see clearly are the eyes.
They pierce the darkness like twin beacons, reflective in the night like a cat’s.
And there’s something else—a loop of black metal attached to a chain around his neck. I wouldn’t notice it against the dark shirt, except that it shines with a glint of moonlight. It’s the only adornment on his simple clothing, and matches the sheen of my bracelet.
I back away, fearful of what he might do. But the fact is, at the last possible moment, he saved me.
I cough again, trying to find my voice. The man stands in silence and stares. Then, with the only whisper I have left, I clear my throat and speak. It’s probably a shot in the dark, but I have to try.
“D-dad?”
It comes out smaller than I mean it to. The wind snaps most of the sound away before it even reaches the guy. I try again.
“Dad?”
He blinks. Then, without a word, he turns and runs.
“Wait!” I follow the best I can, but he’s too fast. “Don’t run away!”
His legs pump like pistons along the barren terrain until he’s running with more velocity than a shuttle. I keel over in exhaustion and watch him. His silhouette shrinks as he escapes into the distance. Then, just as he’s about to disappear altogether, he crouches and jumps.
And flies.
I watch the man shoot into the sky like the blast of a cannon. A blink of an eye and he’s gone.
I collapse to my knees and stare at the stars, waiting for him to loop around and come back.
He doesn’t. Maybe he never will.
12
Cassius squirmed in the restraints. His left foot had itched for the last twenty minutes, right on the sole where he didn’t have a chance of scratching. Worse than that, he desperately wanted to reach behind and pull Madame’s device from his neck, but she was right. Even if he’d had control of his arms, he couldn’t feel a thing back there. No tingle or rawness from a scar. But he knew it was inside. That was enough.
Various Unified Party officials had been in throughout the day, spoon feeding him breakfast and lunch. The woman in the morning had been downright chatty, blabbering like he was her long lost grandson. The lunch guy— younger
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