Underside, Page 2

  Kivren follows me, or I lead him, but either way we both walk off into the darkness of the sinking night.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  We think our troubles are over, since we’ve escaped so easily. We couldn’t be more wrong.

  Once the light of the overhead moon and stars becomes too faint for us to make our way through the thickening forest we stop and climb up into the trees. Relying on our temperature regulated jumpsuits we bid each other goodnight then turn restlessly in the sparse leaves. We have never slept without the help of shutting down before.

  “Kivren? I can’t sleep.” I say quietly.

  “Well I’m not your mommy who’s going to comfort you on the dangers and challenges of the world, you’re going to have to figure that out yourself.” he retorts, then adds to my silence, “I’m just joking. I can’t sleep either.”

  A bird-probably a raven-calls through the night. The sound is fast and harsh, and I respond by howling a long mournful wolf’s howl, my voice carrying up into the breeze.

  Swooping coal black wings land on a branch next to my head. The raven looks at me with dark beady eyes and caws.

  The bird is small for it’s breed with a wingspan of just two feet. I slowly reach a hand out to it, and it bobs it’s head forward, as if granting me permission to touch it. The glossy black feathers shimmer like spilt oil over my fingers, and I marvel at the hidden beauty behind it’s crow-like demeanor.

  “The Wolf is quite affable with the crows!” Kivren exclaims out of the darkness. The raven caws, alarmed, then launches back off into the trees and disappears.

  “Ugh, shut up! You scared the raven away!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” he amends. I look in his direction to see him propped up, watching me with an animated gleam in his eyes.

  I scowl at him one last time then toss my hair behind me and turn away, resting my cheek on my hand. Against the rough bark of the tree, just laying there and looking into endless dry branches and darkness, I feel a sort of warmth spreading inside me up through my body and lifting me to the sky.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The warmth soon morphs to real sunlight on my face. Squinting into the glare of the sun I turn carefully, not wanting to lose my balance on the tree branches. Kivren is not in his tree, but down on the ground messing with the dirt.

  “Being a little boy again?” I tease at him.

  “No. I’m trying something.” he replies seamlessly, not even startled from my voice coming out of nowhere.

  “Christ, I hate your guts.” I mutter, then land silently on my feet beside him. Kivren quickly brushes a hand over what he’s been doing, ruining it with a powdering of fine dust.

  “That’s a secret,” he admonishes me and flicks me on the shoulder for trying to look at what he’d been doing.

  “Okay . . . whatever. Hey, I’m bored, I bet you can’t beat me!” I yell as I take off into the woods faster and more agile than a gazelle. When I look back I see that he’s right on my heels, and I give a shriek and spur myself to go faster.

  Out of the sky dives the raven, cawing it’s head off and landing to perch on my shoulder. And I’m still running.

  Small sharp claws dig into my arm, holding tightly as I dodge and leap over branches and roots.

  What would happen if I went back to Kandu? Would they notice me? Recognize the tell-tale Wolf tattoo between my shoulder blades? Can I even go back without living in constant hiding? If someone found me I would never escape again; the Enforcers would kill me.

  No one stands a chance against the powerful weapons the Enforcers harbor. I, the one with the best survival skills in all of Kandu, would be a moth fluttering around a flame, waiting to be smashed mercilessly.

  Undoubtedly I wouldn’t miss life, but no one wants to die and leave forever.

  I soon forget to run, and slow to a thoughtful amble across the gnarled roots protruding from the ground. Winter is setting in, and a slight mist falling over the dry leaves and brittle, snapping branches.

  Kivren flies past me then seems to stop mid-air when he realizes I’m behind him, walking slowly. I must look like a ghost, drifting through the forest with a raven on my shoulder, staring off into an abyss of the mind.

  Why do I live when those I have killed do not?

  The descent into the falling swirl of madness lays before my feet, and one more step will send me down into insanity. Dare I take that step?

  PART 2 - Three Escapees

  Heart pounding, time ticking fast

  Maybe you'll be free at last

  Free from the lies they've fed you

  The lies you once thought were true

  Foggy nights filled

  with the blood spilled

  As she holds in the sins

  that she unleashed on her kin

  In search of pure healing

  and honest revealing

  Of letting loose the feeling

  that leaves their minds reeling

  To avoid reaching the dead end

  by walking slower

  Chapter 5 - Rusty Cries

  A half-step in insanity’s directions launches me far into the everlasting night of our dark sides. Imagine seeing the faces of everyone you’ve done something wrong to, having them taunt you on how cruel and stupid you’d been, tormenting both your dreams and your waking hours. When you try to forget the hatred for you burning in their eyes, it only gets imprinted deeper. Eventually you give up the struggle and let the remorse wash over yourself in powerful, rocking waves. For me, emotions drain away, and I am left with placid indifference. Indifference to the brightness of the slanting sun through the trees. Indifference to Kivren’s face looming in front of mine.

  A jolt, and I’m back from the dreamworld. Steps retracted to solid land and far from the abyss. Kivren’s face stares into mine, and I flinch. Mostly because of the sharp points patterned into his iris, but also because of his close proximity.

  “Move! What are you doing!” I gasp once I find my voice.

  “I was being an investigator on your psychotic moments. I saw into the abyss of your mind . . .”

  What the heck?

  “Liar,” I mutter, then turn my face away. “Don’t be stupid around me, I’ll probably snap your neck . . . or something like that.”

  The raven caws and perches in a tree, then I hear him; “That doesn’t scare me, but it might scare your friend Kivren.” says a deeper voice. This voice radiates power and authority, but also a dangerous warning.

  “Who . . .” I say under my breath, sliding my right hand up my sleeve to the retractable knife there. Shifting my head slightly, careful to hide the movement behind the careless wind ruffling my hair, I peripherally see a tall man wearing a short cloak. Kivren is unconscious beneath a tree, a bruise starting to bloom over his cheekbone. The man beside him has a hood covering his face, but I know who he is. And I have no chance.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Crashing through the trees

  Weakened at the knees

  Hair catching on the breeze

  Run-leave, fight, die, flee

  The sky is turning red

  If I stop I’ll be dead

  And deep inside my head

  I know there’s still things to be said

  Running from my fate,

  Away from all the hate

  Bloodthirst they need to sate

  I should not make them wait

  Dear life, I lost to you

  So one thing I will do

  Tell them I’m sorry, too

  And that I’ll start anew

  Cold air stings my cheeks and the slight steam from my breath fogs my already blurry vision. One drop of warmth spills near my mouth, but I wipe it away and let no more fall. I waited too long, and now I will pay for it when I am slaughtered like livestock. He will catch me, and I will perish. I have not truly escaped, and I never will.

  Regardless, my legs kee
p pumping and taking me forward, farther and farther from his unsuccumbing grasp. No one can surpass my running, but I will eventually tire. Even if I don’t, there is nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No reason to continue. Nothing at all.

  I could choose to slip back into the enveloping warmth of insanity, but no one is here to pull me out anymore. I can only continue pounding my feet against the sloping ground, hearing myself breathe, feeling the bitterness accumulating around my world, being the nightmares of those I killed. Staying alive.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I try to stay positive, but I am soon opposed by everything around me. Even the sky seems to whisper a question down to my ears,

  “To live, or not to live, that is the question.”

  it asks constantly, partially quoting the Hamlet whom I learned lived a tragic story. But that is not a story, this is real.

  Or is it? Is this the real I yearned for last night after being shut down? Is this the real I dreamed of and thought would be forgiving? Is real death? What defines the real that people live in; the fabric of our lives? I do not know, but I don’t care to find out, because for me, real will always be unreal. Now there is only run and hide.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I have no idea where I am.

  I have no idea where he is.

  I have my knives, my two hands, and my wits.

  I have to find somebody.

  I have lost faith in who I am, was, and will be.

  But I might gain those back . . . if I really want them.

  When I stumble upon what looks to be an abandoned camp I quickly enter a sturdy tent and collapse on the straw mat. Not because I am tired, but because I need solid proof that I am not dreaming.

  The inside of the tent screams ‘gypsy’ at me, but I ignore it.  Even if there aren’t supposed to be people outside of the main cities I don’t care. For now the camp is empty, maybe forever, and I can rest here.

  Inside my head I analyze how far I’ve run and how many miles away Kandu was from the place where I started running. I’m about sixty miles from the forest, plus maybe two inside the forest. From Kandu to Artignon is now thirteen minutes by our average economy Minijet, so about sixty five miles from one city to the other. The sun is climbing from the east, and I have been traveling northwest. Perfect, I am on course and maybe ten miles from Kandu; it is better than I expected.

  When I hear shoes clomping and voices conversing in a foreign gypsy dialect I sneak out of an air flap in the canvas, revived by the knowledge that I am close to Kandu. Looking back I cast a glance at the interior, a faint smile on my face, saying goodbye to the place of refuge with it’s mildewed mat and porcelain bowls. I don’t dare breathe until I’m out of sight, and then I relax, melting into the atmosphere. A slight breeze ruffles my hair, separating the fine silky strands and the sweat that plasters them to my forehead and neck. I extend my face to into the wind and take a deep breath, then a loud caw pierces the air.

  Chapter 6 - Coming Home

  On days when one is feeling crushed, useless, and generally unstable, one does not really appreciate ravens flying out of the sky and perching themselves on one’s head. Especially if that raven reminds you of things best left forgotten. Even more so if it has been following you for the majority of the day.

  “Dear raven, please go away.” I tell it with a sigh. “You loyalty is quite flattering, but I am heading to Kandu, the concrete city, which is not a good place for ravens. In other words, you should not and cannot follow me. Have a nice day.”

  I’m sure anyone who happened to intrude upon this scene would have found it somewhat comical. I, however, was almost adamant that I wouldn’t let the raven go and leave me all alone again, despite what I said.

  The raven ignores me cheerily for a few seconds then peers at me curiously, cawing some more and demanding to know the reason for my unwillingness to walk forward.

  “Well, you’re an annoying little Corvidae, aren’t you?” Reaching up to grab a handful of hair away from the raven’s claws I fully decide to give in. “Get off my head,” I say to it.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Together, swinging along at an amiable pace, are the two escapees. One nagging thing tugs at the Wolf assassin’s mind though, it brings flashing images of a slumped figure beneath a tree, clear crystal eyes drilling into her own, hidden secrets brushed away in the dirt. The third escapee has not escaped, but neither have they. Yet.

  A tall concrete and iron forest has encompassed the raven and I. Dark skyscrapers just about to be lit up like candles in a dark room. All except for the Concrete Chambers; one miniature blackout among millions of other buildings aglow with fluorescence. To the people of Kandu, law enforcement. To me, home.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Stay under cover. Stay under cover.

  Don’t let anyone see your face, or the tattoo on your back.

  Hide the raven.

  Keep a large and easily escapable distance from the Concrete Chambers.

  Be anonymous. Be silent. Be indistinguishable.

  I’m back in Kandu, but have never felt this way before. Here begins my life in hiding, and I am going to start it by stealing some clothes.

  Walking briskly up to a middle aged woman about my size I grab her arm, wrap a hand around her mouth with a vise-like grip, and pull her into the shadows of a building. All without anyone noticing.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re going to wake up with a really bad headache, and some embarrassment.” I tell her, then I press a sensitive spot at the base of her neck and leave her unconscious, wearing nothing but her undergarments.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The shirt is a little too big, the pants too short; my lean and muscular body starts feeling out of place in the loose airy fabric. I am accustomed to typical assassin garb, which consists of a tight, fitted black jumpsuit, a waterproof detachable hood, and really weird shoes that I usually go without.

  To my surprise, the city seems bigger and friendlier than it does from my favorite vantage point on the top of the Concrete Chambers. From several miles in the air a lot can be seen. The people wear smiles, and the buildings don’t tower, they shelter. The whole world feels like it has changed. Or maybe I have changed. I think the latter is more likely.

  When you keep to the shadows you notice more than when you watch from above. You notice the poor, and the confident rich, and the slum-like places, and the pressing crowd. You notice the fat wallet partially obscured and hanging from a pickpocketer’s coat hem. You realize that your life is just a miniscule crumb of the busy, interwoven life of the human race together. Unfortunately, I am not human, I am a superhuman, it mentions it on my info card. It also says that I am a level nine in ability retention. It shows that my reactions and reaction times have improved exponentially, and that overall, I am perfect.

  But I’m not.

  I am too imperfect to speak of. Everything about me has been fabricated, and I am not a real person who has real, genuine emotions. All of it existed once, but I have been programmed for years, and I swear it has rubbed off and is permanently imprinted in my brain. And in my actions. I was born a human, I was turned into an assassin, I will forever be an assassin. A simple truth, that can’t be escaped.

  Chapter 7 - Undercover

  When the truth was presented to me, did I believe it immediately? No. A life of watching everything has left me with a thick wall through which truth and lies must pass.

  Hiding undercover has become simple, and ultimately, boring. Unable to locate anything that I am personally familiar with, I am a ghost wandering through the streets, unnoticed and uncared about. A good thing? Yes. A bad thing? Yes.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  I barely lift my feet as I slowly amble closer and closer towards the Concrete Chambers. The world is quaking with my fear, even the ground seems to shift with each hesitant step over the ground.

  What am I doi
ng here and why did I come back? Where is Kivren? Is he alive? When can I trust anybody? How come this is so different from before? Who am I?

  An onslaught of unanswerable questions plagues my mind, and soon I find myself near the official entrance. No need for doors. Agilely scaling the seamless concrete, I pray that nobody is watching.

  Somebody is watching. A high-speed dart shoots from behind me, ripping part of my sleeve off and trailing away, blue fabric rippling as it dives back towards the ground. I climb faster, but the broken shirt falls away to expose my upper back, and my Wolf tattoo.

  “Halt, Aelise Teronne, Wolf Assassin of Kandu.”

  Caught.

  The sky is raining bullets today,

  And we are crying bombs

  Each drop a fighter’s words to say,

  Each tear a story calm

  Thick smoke rises like a veiling mist,

  Taking life’s treasures and faults

  Leaving the strongest rain-kissed

  And the crying still left with the bombs-

  the bullets, and the rain

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  “I knew I would find you; come on down Aelise. It’s me, Kivren.”

  I don’t know if I am part joyful, or whether the joy is all washed away with a wave of annoyance. Apparently he survived.

  “Down? No. I’m going up anyways.” I say back, not wanting to turn my head and look at him. There is no response, so I resume climbing, hurrying to reach a ledge so that I can arrange my torn clothes. Curse him.

  “Up? No. That’s a bad idea.” he says to me, mockingly. I stare down at him blankly, furious inside but not showing it. Then my eyes alight upon the quiver of darts he’s holding.

  “Quick! Give me one of those darts! And don’t impale me when you throw it.” I stick a hand out impatiently, motioning for him to throw one up to me. He hesitates, then ‘humph's and aims one at a crack in the concrete next to me. With an expert flick of his wrist it sails up and lodges itself exactly where he aimed it; I’m glad he wasn’t aiming at me that first time.