Featherlight (4 page)

 Someone dragged Adam out of my grasp and pinned me against the
hallway before I had taken a breath. My face was mashed against a white wall
and my hands were locked behind me. I may have cursed, but I couldn’t be sure. Ah,
wonderful. Some colorful bruises would appear on my face tomorrow to match my
arms.

Henry sauntered into my line of sight and said, quite smugly, “The
room has surveillance. These two,” he gestured behind me. “Came running when
you tried your escape attempt.”

I spat at him, but he dodged it, somehow. “You have the same spirit
your race is famous for,” he said, impressed, as if I weren’t currently glaring
daggers at him. Did I also see a hint of respect?

 Then, the beautiful, olive-skinned woman from the night I was
attacked walked up to us from the end of the hallway and inquired of the three
men, “What has happened?” Her voice was sharp and demanding. This woman was
accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed.

“She tried to escape, Nira.” Henry dipped his head.

“Let her go,” she ordered the person pinning me, and I was immediately
released. “And quit wasting her energy. The Change is a few hours away yet and
I can see bruises all over her body.” The woman smiled at me. “Come along, and
I’ll brief you on the next few days.”

She turned around without looking back at me. After glaring back at
the two thugs, I followed her.

She threw over here shoulder at Henry, “You stay here.”

He started to protest until she gave him a look. She whirled around again
and resumed her stride down the white hallway, and I noticed that she wore a
baggy trench coat like the rest of the men. Not knowing what else to do, I hurried
after her.

As we walked down the long hallway she said, “You are here on our
earth base. It is located on the Smokey Mountains
far
away from human
civilization.”  She gave me a warning glance. “I am Nira, head of this base.”

We came to a locked door, and she typed in a long code. The door swung
open. My mouth almost dropped as we stepped through the doorway. It opened into
a long tunnel above the trees with glass everywhere but the floor. I could see
for miles in every direction. Mist covered the mountains like a deep grey
carpet and the sky pulsed a light blue. Dark rain clouds approached in the
distance. How appropriate. The overall effect was hauntingly beautiful.

 At the end of the tunnel, I could see a large silver mass that looked
like an airplane. Nira started to walk towards it, and I began to get nervous.

“Adam should have filled you in before you got on the ship, but that
did not work out as planned. I chose him to explain everything because I
thought it might be better coming from one of these ‘humans’ of which you are
so familiar.” She made the word ‘human’ sound like an evil virus.

“Since we only have a few minutes until departure, I will tell you the
most vital information.” We stopped as we reached the wall at the end of the
tunnel.

Nira turned to face me and gravely said, “Jacque, our society is not
like yours. It will be extremely tough on you because you were not raised in
our world. After you go through the change, your emotions, instincts, and feelings
will be affected. Thanks to the change, your leukemia will be cured within a
few hours. You can choose to succumb to our ways, or you can choose to fight
your true nature. Remember this: Do not run. That is the worst thing you can
do. Do not show fear. You are strong. Remember who you are.”

 With that, she punched in a button on the wall and walked back the
way we came. I did not hear anything she said past the words ‘your leukemia
will be cured’.

Was I a fool to hope that she was telling the truth? I wanted so badly
to be rid of my cancer that I felt a fire of hope flare at her words. I needed
to believe her because I was a fighter. I would die within a few days if a
miracle didn’t happen, and that thought terrified me. I was too young to die.

Part IV

The door beside the button slid open, revealing a man standing inside
the ‘ship’. He beckoned me inside, and, since there was no other choice, I stumbled
onto the ship. When had my life gotten so out of control?

A small crack by the tunnel end allowed me a glimpse at trees far
below. Oddly, that didn’t make me feel nauseated or fearful. I stepped into a
silver futuristic room with white couches and gray tables. Even though no one
was physically forcing me to board, that one step was anything but willing. My
body was exhausted, and I just wanted to go back home, curl up on my chair, and
read a good book.

“She’s on board!” the man yelled over the engine as the door to
freedom shut with a finalizing thud.

Why didn’t I fight Nira to escape? My mom always told me to never get
in the car if threatened, because they would end up killing me anyways. Why
didn’t I listen to her? My mind was distracted by exhaustion and pain, but that
excuse wouldn’t save my life.

Shiny walls reflected the ceiling lights, making the room bright. A man
stared at me as I swayed slightly. I stared back and he frowned.

“Sit here.” He pointed to the white couch.

“I’d prefer to stand,” I told him, not wanting to get the couch dirty and
not willing to take orders.

He scowled.
Not a very happy camper,
I noticed with vague
amusement. The airship lurched, taking off into the air. It took some
concentration to stay balanced. Looks like I wouldn’t be escaping this ship
anytime soon. Oddly enough, for the first time I didn’t care that someone saw
me without hair. The tears that had slipped down my face while my hair was cut
off now seemed so vain and trivial.

“We are going on a long trip,” he told me smugly, “so I suggest you
take a seat.”

I was angry but didn’t let my face show it. He apparently wanted some
extreme reaction from me. His type prey on fear. I managed to look uninterested
and bored. His scowl deepened.

 A man walked in from one of the doors and looked at Unhappy Camper. “I
can smell your frustration from the cockpit. What’s going on in here?” he asked
as I decided the words ‘frustration’ and ‘cockpit’ did not need to go in the
same sentence.

Both men had the same accent as Henry, but heavier.

I answered, dripping sarcasm, “He was just welcoming me onboard.”

Unhappy Camper snapped, “Silence! He did not address you!”

I turned to him and took a step forward. I was going to teach this guy
just what I thought about his behavior. He had better learn fast. My fists were
clenched, ready for another fight.

The pilot turned to him and hissed, “You idiot! She is a folium
,
so
I suggest you speak with respect. Go to the front with the rest of the crew in
case you get any ideas.”

The ship tilted upward suddenly and I was forced to take a step back
to keep my balance. My stomach lurched and I remembered that I no longer had
the strength to fight. Chemotherapy stole that strength from me, along with my
blood cells.

I tried another form of fighting instead and said, “My name is Jacque.
I have leukemia and am extremely susceptible to infections. I have a high fever
and could die soon. I need medical attention now.”

As if talking to a 3 year old, my voice was slow and precise so that
my message would be delivered through those thick skulls.

The pilot here with us pressed a button on the wall and spoke into it,
“Marie? Come help Jacque, please.”

I need a doctor, not a maid!
I thought as a small young woman stepped in the room.
Oh man, I
should not have thought that. She could be a doctor for all I know.

She was also wearing the staple kidnapper trench coat. Her eyes were
downcast, only briefly looking up to ask, “What may I do?”

The pilot tilted his head in my direction and she bustled over to
gently take my arm. I was surprised that we could almost see eye-to-eye. Not
many women are my height.

“Come along, dear.”

I went reluctantly, throwing one last glare at the Unhappy Camper. To
my amusement, he just stared at me open-mouthed while I left with Marie.

 We entered a windowless room in the rear of the plane that had a
small bed, toilet, bathtub, full length mirror, and a large dresser. The room
had a futuristic silver-and-white theme that put me slightly on edge. Like I
wasn’t on edge enough.

The image in the full length mirror frightened me, until I realized it
was
me. I looked like I had stomped through a swamp, ridden a tornado,
and then went dumpster diving. In no particular order. My shirt had a rip down
the side and was spotted with mud. My pants were in no better shape. My hat was
long gone, and my bald head was covered in a thin layer of mud. My back began
to hurt, and my black shoes were the only thing in my odd ensemble that looked
decent.

While I was looking in the mirror, the woman called Marie pulled my
shirt all the way off. I was too tired to care, and there wasn’t much of it
left anyway. As she handed me a large shirt I noticed she had pretty brown eyes
and soft, kind features. She was older, maybe mid-sixties, and reminded me of a
grandmother I always wished I had.

I gratefully threw the shirt on over my sports bra. The painful
throbbing in my back spread to my chest, arms, and upper thighs. She also gave
me a pair of black sport shorts, which I switched into after taking my shoes
off.

 “Ten minutes,” An overhead speaker announced. Ten minutes until
landing?

I asked Marie, “Ten minutes until what?”

Should I try to escape? As soon as a rough escape plan formed in my
mind, the engine rumbled and the floor shook slightly. That man wasn’t joking
with me earlier, and I was stuck on this plane-ship thing until it landed. We
really are leaving the planet. Shouldn’t I be strapped in somewhere? I wanted
to sit down and cry. How had I gotten into this mess? Where did things go
wrong? And the most important question of all: Could I have done anything
differently to get out of it?

I tried asking the silent woman again. “Why was that announced?”

“Because that’s when your change begins,” She told me with alarm, “You
should know all this by now.”

I was getting sick of having no information. If someone didn’t tell me
something fast, things were going to get ugly. I tried to think practically.

I was taken against my will, and my aunt had let it happen. She knew
something I didn’t. Heck, everyone knew something I didn’t. I was told I wasn’t
human. I was told I was going to grow wings. My pulse jumped from fear. What
crazy people had me in their clutches?

Well, this plane-ship looked expensive, and as far as I knew, I was the
only reason we were traveling. So, basically, I was either extremely important
to them or whomever was transporting me had a whole lot of money. Or both. I’m
going to assume that I was at least slightly important to these people, which
means that, for the moment, I was safe. Now that that was settled, I needed
answers. Where was I headed and what do they think this “change” was supposed
to do?

Turning back to the woman, I tried to look helpless and scared (which
wasn’t hard) while asking, “What is the change?” Her features softened as she
took pity on me.

 “Usually, Change is triggered by puberty. Since you’ve been on earth,
well, the change wasn’t activated.”

“How is it activated?” I inquired softly, all innocence.

“Oh you sweet dear, I’m not sure it’s my place…”

Could I squeeze out a tear? How desperate for information was I?
Actually, now that I thought about it, crying wasn’t too far away. I had been
running on adrenaline, and even though I had had a long, unconscious,
drug-induced sleep, it wasn’t restful. I sank down on the bed, covering my
face.

“What is happening?” The question wasn’t directed anywhere, and I
didn’t expect a reply, so I was surprised when I received one.

“Well, dearie, puberty isn’t exactly the trigger. More specifically,
it is being around men.”

I peeked through my fingers to say, “I’ve been around men my whole
life.”

She leaned down close and gently took my hands off my face. “Men from
your own kind, dear. Now that you’ve been around them a bit, you will
experience the change you should have gone through years ago.”

She managed to make it sound like a great privilege, which was the
opposite of how the Unhappy Camper made it sound. As if on cue, a sudden
internal pain flared. I was going crazy. I was not going to change. I was not
going to change. I’m Jacqueline Winters. Jacque Winters is who I am, and Jacque
Winters is who I will always be.

Somewhere far away, someone yelled, “Five minutes!”

I sank down to the floor. Grey spots danced in my vision.

“Over hear, dear!” I vaguely felt someone lay me down on the spotless
white bed.

My ears rang. Pain was taking over thought. My chest was numb. My
head, arms, legs, were on fire. My head was thick and swirling. I moaned,
wanting it all to go away. I prayed for sleep and peace. The pain increased to
an unbearable level and I was frozen with it. I was finally dying. The
infections were going to kill me after all.