Sidewinder - Chapter Eight

On the bus ride up, Skye had thought he was prepared; he’d read books about life before they’d been driven underground, and watched old movies to try and get a visual idea. None of it prepared him for his first step out under the wide open sky. He stopped dead just outside the door and stared up, wide-eyed, at the cloudless expanse of blue above him, until the person coming out behind him gave him a shove out of the way.

He moved off to the side and sat down on the rocky ground to pull on his skates and pads, unable to keep from looking up every few minutes, though it made him dizzy if he stared too long. The bright sunlight dazzled his eyes and the sense of open space suddenly made him feel very small. He started when someone touched his shoulder and dropped the pad he was about to strap onto his elbow, giving Katia a sheepish grin as he picked it up.

“It’s big, huh?” Katia settled down beside him and tightened the buckles on her own skates. “You were looking a little shellshocked. You’ll get used to it.”

“It’s just so... open. We’re supposed to race through this?” He looked up again. “Is it weird that I feel like something’s going to come crashing down on my head? You’d think I’d feel that down below, not up here.”

“I guess it’s instinct to want to crouch down and protect yourself when you get out in this sort of open space. Plus you know it isn’t safe up here.”

“Well, stories...”

She smiled a little. “Stories to you, maybe. I lived through it.”

“What are you doing up here then?”

Katia pointed to her brother, who had already strapped all his gear on and started stretching. “That idiot. At the risk of sounding about a hundred and twenty, you young guys, born after we were driven under? You really don’t know anything. You’re all bravado and hot air.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a bitch.”

“Nah.” He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze and pushed himself to his feet, rebalancing before offering her a hand up. “Good luck, Katia. See you at the finish line.”

“You too.” She nodded to him and skated away to join her brother and Jian.

Skye looked after her for a moment then decided to copy Zephyr’s example and stretch, working out a kink in his shoulder and warming up the big muscles in his legs. He double-checked the bindings on his skates and settled his pack more comfortably on his shoulders, waiting impatiently for the Commission to call them together to start the race.

A jolt of excited fear went through his belly when they finally did, and he concentrated on breathing naturally as he skated up to join the rest of the racers behind the line of tape stretched across the dusty tarmac. There was some jostling as they all got into line, then an expectant silence that stretched out in ticking seconds until the starting gun went off with a bang that made Skye jump. He stumbled slightly then caught himself and pushed out over the starting line in smooth strides.

After the first rush, the group began to spread apart and settle into a longer, steadier rhythm. Skye found himself a place on the outside, out of the way of Six and Evita, who had shot right to the front of the pack, and dug through his pack until he found the equipment one of the Commission members had given him. He inspected it between quick glances to make sure he wasn’t about to run into anything, and grinned when he realized the tiny video camera came equipped with a built-in map. Reminding himself that he could inspect it—and try to figure out where it was getting its signals from—when he stopped for the night, he turned his attention back to the road.

For a while it was less like a race and more like a practice run, especially after Six and Evita disappeared into the distance ahead of them. Taz told a dirty joke about a nun and a barstool, bringing laughter from most of the group, and for the next few hours Skye just enjoyed being out in the warmth of the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air.

The sky began to cloud over shortly after they paused to eat lunch, still mostly grouped together. Skye nibbled on the carrots he’d brought with him and watched the clouds move, waiting for the rain to start. It was cold when it did, and hard enough to soak him within seconds. He flipped his hood up and got to his feet, setting off again to keep warm in the driving rain. Fog formed rapidly and began to creep across the ground, forcing him to slow as his visibility reduced nearly to zero. He swallowed hard against the thick lump of fear in his throat and tried to keep moving, until he suddenly realized he was skating through the fog completely alone.

He dragged his toe to stop and looked around, his breathing loud and harsh in the muffled silence of the fog. Cold droplets slid down cheeks and under the collar of his jacket, until he rubbed them away. For a moment he thought he heard voices but when he moved towards them, he only found more fog. It didn’t take long for him to become completely disoriented and he had to dig the GPS out of his pocket to figure out where he was.

The rain eased as he started moving again but the fog only seemed to get thicker, wrapping around him and sinking through his damp clothes until he shivered despite the warmth generated by his movement. He almost called out, then hesitated, thinking of the grey thing that had flashed past the camera in the Commission’s meeting room; and Katia’s comment about stories. He bit his lower lip then just kept going, hoping he would come out through the fog into clear air.

A low hooting noise cut through the silence suddenly, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around quickly, breathing through his nose to avoid panting, and slid his pocketknife out of his shorts. Something ran through the fog behind him with rapid thudding footsteps, but when he whirled—nearly unbalancing himself—he could see nothing but a shifting, rolling curtain of grey.

He took a breath, then checked the GPS and started skating in what he hoped was the right direction, putting on speed in an effort to outrun the fog around him. Unable to see any landmarks or anything else he was passing, he soon began to feel as though he were just skating in place without getting anywhere, and had to shake his head hard to get rid of the sudden dizziness. He slowed for a few minutes to catch his breath, and shuddered at another hooting cry close behind him.

“Go away!” he yelled at it, and suddenly took off as fast as he could, sprinting into the thick fog ahead of him. He pushed himself until his chest burned and he felt wobbly on his skates, and only slowed when he thought he heard someone calling his name.

“Hello?” he called back. “Anyone out there?”

His name drifted back through the fog and he turned to follow it, straying from the path the GPS had set. Gradually, finally, the fog began to clear, until he skated out into clear air underneath the reddish light of the setting sun. He turned his face up to it, then looked around for whoever had been calling his name, his burgeoning smile fading as he saw nothing but empty road. He glanced back behind him, startled by how much the fog looked like a shifting wall, then slowly started to follow the road, keeping an eye out for any human movement.

Dark descended swiftly and he gave up on finding people, instead turning his attention to finding shelter for the night. The moon had risen high in the dark sky by the time he stumbled upon what must have once been someone’s farmhouse, though half of it had collapsed into ruin now. He inspected it carefully, expecting something to leap out at him, then settled into the corner of what was left of the living room, grateful to ease his skates off his sore feet and change into dry clothes.

He spent some time playing with the video equipment, padding around what was left of the house in his socked feet to film the destruction and chatting about it just to hear his own voice break the silence. When he grew tired of that he went back to his pack and fiddled with the GPS, resisting the urge to take out the little case of tools he always brought with him so he could take things apart. After a while his eyes grew too heavy to keep open and he curled up with his pack as a pillow, huddled into his coat. He slept lightly and restlessly, starting awake at every tiny noise, and stayed awake after he heard multiple somethings snarling and fighting outside in the dusty garden an hour before dawn.

He waited until the sun had risen completely before leaving the farmhouse, cautiously looking around to make sure whatever had been out there had left. He saw blood and bits of grey-brown fur in the dirt by the living room window and made a face, skirting wide around it as he skated back to the road. A quick glance at the GPS oriented him and he started skating, trying not to think about the fact that he was still completely alone.

Nearly two hours passed before he became aware that he was being followed, though when he looked back quickly over his shoulder, he saw nothing. He tried to ignore it but the crawling sensation between his shoulderblades only grew stronger, causing him to hunch his shoulders and skate stiffly. He faked having to stop and kneel down to fix his skate, holding his breath to listen carefully. Sweat ran down his nose and he wiped it off on his shoulder before pushing himself back to his feet, beginning to feel frustrated.

“Whoever’s out there, it’s not funny.” He turned around in a circle. “Just come out.”

He heard footsteps from the wooded area beside and behind him, and turned towards them, ready to tell off whoever had been scaring him. His voice died in his throat when it appeared through the trees, thick and heavyset and not human, though it walked on two muscular legs. A distant part of him thought it looked a little like a lizard, if lizards had only vestigial flaps of skin where their eyes should be and a mouth too small for all their teeth. It had a metal collar around its thick neck and he had a moment to think how strange that was before it turned its heavy snout towards him and breathed in deeply, oversized nostrils flaring.

Instinct took over and he was already moving when it lunged at him, mouth gaping wide. It just barely missed snagging a claw in his pack, coming close enough that he felt the sickly heat of its body. He didn’t look back to see how quickly it picked itself up out of the dirt; he just took off down the road as fast as he could. Its thudding footsteps soon sounded behind him and he swore he could feel its humid breath on the back of his neck as he fled.

He caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and risked a quick look over, feeling his heart drop as he saw another creature loping along through the woods. This one looked more human, though it was impossibly tall and thin, its huge hands ending in claws longer than his own fingers. It carried a length of chain wrapped loosely around one arm and wore a rudimentary scrap of cloth around its narrow hips, though its clawed feet were bare. Its skin was an unpleasant grey-brown and thick like leather, except where it thinned over its angular face. Just looking at it made Skye feel sick, and he hurriedly tore his eyes away, already panting for breath.

His calf gave a warning twinge and he hissed a curse, willing it not to develop into a cramp. Beside him the creature began to lag, then dropped back, uttering a harsh barking noise. The monster behind Skye slowed and reluctantly turned away after a last snarl. Skye didn’t wait to see what they would do next, not even slowing until a stitch in his side forced him to stop, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. He looked around, wild-eyed, but the road remained empty and silent around him.

He spent a few minutes just trying to even out his breathing before moving again, slowly to let himself rest, until the sudden crack of a breaking branch sent him bolting forward like a frightened rabbit. He cast a frightened look back over his shoulder as he skated up a rise in the road, and just barely realized there was something on the other side before he crashed right into it, sending them both down in a tangle of limbs.