Volare (Part 1) Page 3

  “Where did you go last night?”

  I turn around to see my mother waiting in the kitchen doorway. I hand her the bag of blackberries. She takes them and nods.

  “I see, so this is why you left, but where did you go last night?” She says.

  “I fell asleep,” I say.

  “You feel asleep?”

  “I feel asleep outside,” I say.

  “You fell asleep outside?”

  I don’t know what to tell her to make the situation better. “Well, technically I was inside,” I say.

  “So you fell asleep outside, but technically you were inside?”

  The look on her face makes me struggle even further. I think about how she’ll act if I tell her about the cave, or about Winter. That’s when the possibility of Winter being sent by the Council crosses my mind. Although they are not above using teenagers for their schemes, they are definitely more direct and would not prolong the process of our capture. Even if my mother did believe me about the cave, she’ll think I am crazy if I tell her about Winter.

  “How about this, if you want to go somewhere, you just let me know or tell me where you are going so that way I don’t have to be worried,” she says, before I can think of a half-decent lie.

  My mother has never said a thing like this to me before and I wonder if she is tricking me. I can’t possibly be getting off the hook this easy. I can’t think of anything to say in response.

  “Adam, the only thing that I care about is that you are safe. I was worried. I looked everywhere. I tried to track you, but once the sun set, I couldn’t find your trail. Do not make me have to worry about you like that again.”

  I feel guilty for leaving, when I can tell by the look in her eyes that maybe, in that moment, she was simply too scared to be mad at me.

  “I’m sorry, mom, that won’t happen again.”

  She gives me a hug, tighter than the usual ones that she gives.

  The entire day my mother treats me especially nice. Part of me wonders if my staying out all night actually made her go insane. Even during our sparring sessions, she acts as if the night before didn’t happen. Later at night, I go to sleep in my bed, feeling as if I might have gotten away without consequence.

  I awaken in the middle of the night to the sound of clacking metal. I jump out of the bed. My mother stands in the doorway with two pots, hitting them together.

  “Okay! Okay!” I say, “What’s going on!”

  “It’s time for your training,” she says.

  She shines a blinding flashlight on me. My eyes struggle to adjust. I can barely make out her silhouette.

  “But we already sparred today,” I say. “We did theory and everything. Mom, it’s the middle of the night.”

  “Meet me outside in two minutes. Be ready.” She turns and exits the room.

  I look at the bed and then out the window, pitch black. I have no idea what she has in mind, all I know is that my bed is probably going to be a lot more comfortable than it.

  I throw my clothes on and make my way to the field in front of the cottage. It’s a cloudy night, so there isn’t much light from the stars or the moon. My mother is nowhere in sight.

  All of a sudden, bright lights flash on in front of me. I turn around to find the large stadium lights blinding me on all four sides.

  “Grab the staff.”

  “What?!”

  “Grab the staff.”

  I look down and see a long, wooden rod near my feet. It seems to be about as tall as me.

  “Pick up the staff. I won’t say it again.”

  “Why?!”

  Before I can ask another question, a sharp pain ripples through my body. I feel the impact of something hard against the back of my leg. I fall to one knee. My mother stands in front of me with a staff, waiting.

  “Pick up the staff,” she says again.

  “I don’t understand.. why,” I say.

  “You can fight decently. You can hunt decently, but you need to learn a lot more, I won’t always be here to protect you. Now pick up the staff.”

  “No!” I say.

  “Very well,” she says. She takes a few steps back and gets into a fighting stance. Then she races toward me, raising the staff high in the air and coming down toward my head. Before it reaches me, I roll out of the way. My mind races back to the many lessons she’s taught me while sparring.

  “This in not fighting, this is you defending yourself,” she says. “Will you defend yourself?”

  I know that even though there is no way I’m going to hit her with the staff, I have to stop her from hitting me. Before she can start to attack again, I grab the staff.

  In a flurry of movement, she attacks me. Left, right, left, right, I muster all the energy I have to block all her strikes. The loud sounds of the weapons hitting each other near my face and body, makes my hair stand on end. She continues to swing, quickly and under control. Her movements are so fast, I wonder how I can trace them with my eyes. I try to control my breathing, while letting my training and muscle memory guide my reactions. I feel my arms tightening and I know that if I fatigue and slow down, she’ll land another strike.

  “Why are you doing this!” I scream.

  She spins around and strikes at my head. I duck and she spins again, this time sweep kicking her leg under mine. I jump out the way just in time. My adrenaline spikes as she continues her relentless assault.

  “Mom, they’re not coming!” I yell. “They would have been here by now! They’re not coming!” The words escape me from some place deep inside where I didn’t know the thought even existed.

  She stops. My mother pulls back her staff and stands up straight. Her eyes never leave from mine. “Do you believe that?” she says.

  I think about it and then I tell her the truth. “I... I don’t know,” I say.

  A moment passes before she says anything. “Adam, who is Winter?”

  What? How does she know about Winter?

  “Before you woke up, I heard you calling after someone named Winter.”

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  She throws the staff on the ground in front of her. “Well you better figure out what you do know. Because whether or not you believe it, we are on borrowed time.” My mother gives me a look that must be disappointment. I have never seen her look at me this way before. She stands there for a moment, waiting for a response that never comes. Then she turns and heads back to the cottage.

  My face gets hot and my eyes start to burn. I can’t tell if it’s the sweat that’s running down, if it’s tears falling, or both. I stand there under the bright lights, feeling small in the middle of the dark night.

  ***

  Weeks go by and my mother continues my training. She doesn’t bring up the Volare or the Council. I try to not mention it either and just focus on improving.

  One morning, I wake up before the sun rises, remembering flashes of a dream that came to me the night before. It’s still dark outside my window and I can only see around my room because of a small lamp I must have forgotten to turn off. Instead of getting out of bed, I close my eyes and let the images of the dream come back to me.

  I was at a clearing in the woods and in the center stood Winter, the way she was on the first day I saw her. As soon as I realize where I am, the large cat jumps out of the foliage and lunges toward her. I call out to her, but it’s too late. Just as the cat reaches her, I blink and suddenly I’m in the cave with her once more. We both look older now. We sit next to each and talk as the sun goes down. She falls asleep in my arms and I watch her as she lays there. She breathes deeply and I wonder if she is dreaming of me. Her body feels weightless as she rests against mine.

  I open my eyes and sit up. The door to my room is shut and standing at the foot of my bed is Winter.

  “Did you dream about me?” she says.

  The sheets on top of me feel heavy and I forget to breathe. I don’t know what to say as I stare at her standing there in my room.

  “
Is that a yes?” she smiles.

  “Yes,” I say. “How... how did you know?”

  “I dreamt of you too,” she says. Her voice is rich and her accent only makes her more alluring.

  “Are you really here?”

  She laughs. “I think so,” she says.

  Slowly, I get out of the bed, keeping my eyes on her. Every time that I’ve seen her has been so brief, yet I feel like I’ve known her forever. I don’t let my eyes wander away from her, afraid that she might disappear.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she says.

  “Wait, you can read my th...”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Am I going crazy?” I ask.

  “No,” she says.

  She doesn’t move a muscle as I make my way over to her. I step right in front of her; hazel eyes slowly trace up and down my face. I can feel the energy between us. It’s the only thing that tells me that I can’t be going crazy and this can’t be a dream.

  I reach out my hand for hers. She starts to pull away.

  “I don’t want you to be scared,” she says.

  Without saying anything, I reach out for her hand again, this time faster, before she can move away. Just as I expect to feel her skin, my hand passes completely through hers. I take a step back to process what happened.

  She shakes her head. “I told you you’d be scared,” she says.

  “I’m not,” I say. I reach out for her once more and again my hand grabs nothing but air. “I just don’t understand,” I say.

  “I can’t commit to this form. That’s why you can’t touch me. This is because I am a sprite.”

  “Form? Sprite?” I ask.

  “You can’t touch me because I’m not fully here,” she says.

  “So you’re not real?”

  “No, I promise you that I’m real. I just haven’t figured out how to fully be here without getting caught... I’m even having problems even figuring out how I’m supposed to look while I’m here.”

  I try to wrap my mind around what she’s saying. “So you’re saying that you don’t really look like this?” I ask.

  “No, I do. Well, mostly,” she says.

  “What is a sprite?” I ask.

  She smiles. “I’ll show you. Close your eyes.”

  I feel my heart start to beat faster. I have so many questions, but I trust her and I close my eyes.

  In flash, I am no longer in the room. Images from the past flood my mind, memories that I know are not from me. Animals and creatures of all kinds fly, crawl and run through my mind. Unfamiliar stories and tales come to me as if I have always known them. Then my mind goes blank for a moment. That’s when I see it.

  I am standing in a void of darkness. Soft light emanates from a figure in front of me. As my eyes adjust, I see before me a set of large golden wings. They are strong, each one larger than myself. Soft feathers glimmer a golden-pearl hue and before I can gather my senses, the creature moves. The wings are attached to a the figure’s back. A strong gust of wind pushes me as she turns around. Red flowing hair cascades down her beautiful body. Golden, hazel eyes stare back at me. Before me is Winter.

  A few years ago, my mother took me into the woods near the cottage to hunt for the first time. The unfamiliar forest seemed so vast it was overwhelming. We walked for hours “tracking” food. I had no idea what this meant then. That was the day I saw an animal in the flesh for the first time. A rabbit hopped out of a bush, no more than several paces ahead of us. As my mother quickly took aim with the rifle, a large bird swooped out of the sky, snatching up the rabbit. The powerful, golden brown wings pushed the bird as it ascended back into the sky. Before today, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

  Winter smiles at me as I stay focused on her. She reaches out and grabs my hand. Her skin feels warm. The white light around us drowns out everything except for her and the tension between us. I forget that I was just in my room. I forget that I was in the cottage. I forget that this can’t be real.

  “How come... Why didn’t you tell me before?” I ask.

  “I’m not supposed to. I’m not even supposed to be here.”

  “Well, why are you?”

  “Because...” She stops herself and just smiles at me.

  I can tell that she is uncomfortable with saying her answer aloud. “Well, what else can you do?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

  “A lot of things,” she says, with a devious look. “But if I do too much, I’ll get caught. I’m not even supposed to talk to humans.”

  “I see,” I tell her, even though I still don’t fully understand.

  Suddenly, the expression on her face changes. She begins to look afraid. In the back of my mind I hear a faint siren.

  “Go,” she says.

  The faint siren, grows louder in my mind. I ignore it, choosing instead to be with her in this moment.

  “You have to go now!” she screams. She pushes me away from her.

  The siren now grows into a loud pulsating scream. I close my eyes, but the sound doesn’t stop. That’s when I realize what it is- the alarm.

  I open my eyes and I’m back in my bedroom. Winter is nowhere to be seen. I reach for the rifle next to my door, but remember that the ammo is in the kitchen.

  When I open my bedroom door, I see my mother standing in the front room next the fireplace. She is surrounded on all sides by people in all grey uniforms. Black masks cover their faces so they all look the same. I recognize who they are by the large white “V” on the back of the jackets they wear. The Volare have found us.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I have gone over this scenario several times in my mind. The Volare will come, likely in the night. My rifle will be loaded and I will jump out of bed the second the alarm sounds. Because the weapons that the Volare carry have computer chips in them, and the perimeter around the cottage will scramble their devices, they will essentially be unarmed. As long as we’re ready inside, my mother and I will be able to hold them off, for at least a while. This is how it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to be ready.

  My mother stands in the front room, as a group of about six Volare surround her. The fireplace next to them illuminates the room. I grip the unloaded rifle tightly. Several of them turn to me and I run toward them.

  Two Volare try grab my mother. She punches one in the throat first, then kicks the second in the head. A few jump to intercept me. I hit one in the face with the end of my rifle as the other lands a punch to my face. The blow sends a pain through my body like nothing I have ever felt before. My rifle drops to the floor. Instinct takes over and I immediately drop to the ground, sweep kicking the assailant before he strikes again. He falls and I jump up, grabbing the rifle, blocking a punch from another one and countering with an elbow to their face. The Volare’s mask cracks, but the he stays standing, only taking a few steps back to gather himself.

  I rush a few steps into the kitchen, reaching in the drawer for the ammo. From there, I can see my mother fight several Volare by the fireplace. I can tell by how fast they are moving that even if I’m able to load the gun in time, I would never get off a clean shot.

  The Volare with the cracked mask jumps into the kitchen. I swing at him with the rifle, but hit nothing but air. The next thing I feel is a sharp pain in my side that makes the punch I took earlier seem like a kiss. I topple to one knee, clenching my side with one hand and using the gun to not fall over completely. Before he can jump on me, I pull everything I have into grabbing the rifle with two hands and swinging it hard upwards. The gun lands hard against his jaw.

  I get up as best as I can, pain still screaming from my side. The Volare falls back onto a wall. Half of the black mask lays on the floor in front of me. My uppercut shattered it.

  In the front room, a Volare holds my mother from behind, while one more holds an object in his hand. I hobble out of the kitchen toward them. Stepping closer, I can see the object is her silver book. The Volare opens it. My mother lets out a sc
ream of rage and kicks the book out of his hands, into the fireplace. The Volare holding her, tightens his grip and my mother turns to me. The other reaches in the fireplace for the book. Though I have no clue why, I can tell by the look on my mother’s face what I must do. I throw the rifle hard at the Volare reaching into the fireplace. The book flies out of his hands as the gun hits the back of his head. The book slides across the floor and under a nearby chair. The Volare holding my mother releases her and dives for it, but my mother kicks the Volare in the face. As he drops to the floor unconscious, about ten more enter the small cottage. They overwhelm us quickly and grab us.

  We are drug outside in the dark of night. I feel the metal of handcuffs tightening every time I try to fight free. They throw us to the ground in the middle of the field. As they step back from us, my eyes adjust. I can barely make out the grey uniforms and black masks that surround us. There are dozens of them. We never stood a chance.

  The silhouettes of the Volare stand around us as if waiting for orders. I turn to mother who is on her knees next to me. Even though I can barely see her face, I can tell that she is not afraid. She studies the Volare calmly. It almost looks like she is waiting for what is coming next.

  I shut my eyes as the blinding stadium lights turn on in the field. Squinting, I can barely see my mother and the Volare around us. They face the cabin and wait.

  “Don’t talk,” my mother whispers. “No matter what they say, don’t tell them anything. Not even your name.”

  A small part of me wonders why she is saying this. It is clear to me that soon we will be executed and none of this will matter. I should have believed her. I shouldn’t have taken our time for granted and I shouldn’t have been entertaining nonsensical dreams about a girl that I know doesn’t even exist.

  I nod anyway. “Ok,” I say.

  Out of the door walks the Volare with the broken mask. He makes his way towards us, eyes fixed on my mother. The way the others wait for him, I can tell that he is their leader.