Phineas' fingers ran along
his coveralls where the silver wings rested against his skin, attached
to the
inside of his clothing. They weren't
his wings, his father had earned them, but Phineas had worn them from
the time
he was small. He still remembered the
day he first wore them. A man had come
to his house and his mama had sent him outside to play.
When he was allowed to come back in, his
mama looked like she had been crying and the big man who had been
dressed in a
uniform like the one his papa had worn was sitting in the chair his
papa
favored when he was home. The man
smiled at him, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Then he beckoned Phineas closer.
Phineas had looked at his mama, who nodded.
The man held the silver wings in his hand.
"We promised your
father we would do this. He wanted you
to wear them, to remember him, and he wants you to earn your own pair
one day
when you are big and strong like your father was, you understand?"
Phineas nodded, although he
didn't understand much other than the shiny wings belonged on papa's
uniform. It was papa's not his. He still didn't understand when people
started coming to see his mama. Then
they had to move. A new family needed
their house. When they had found a
new
place to live he asked his mama how papa would know where to find them. Mama took him outside and pointed upward to
the stars. "Papa is up there.
He knows we are here. Be a good boy
and one day you will be like
your papa."
Twenty years had passed
since that day. Twenty years of hearing
people tell him how much he was growing up to be like his papa: how he
looked
like him, how he talked like him, how he walked like him.
Phineas tried to change his mannerisms, but
they were his behaviors, not learned behaviors. Besides,
he reasoned, how can a person learn behaviors from a
person they barely knew? In the
ensuing years, Phineas had decided he did not want to be like the man
who never
came home again. However, not wanting
to be like him did not make Phineas stop wearing the silver wings,
especially
on days like today.
He stood ready with the
others. There were fewer of them this
trip. They were all dressed identically
in fire retardant gear with over-large packs strapped to their bodies
by
five-point harnesses. Phineas
reached
down and adjusted the strap between his legs.
It felt too tight, which meant it was properly adjusted.
Phineas was frightened that
something would go wrong. His father
had been a man who jumped and died. It
was not what Phineas wanted to be, but new laws required all young men
must
serve, thus Phineas served. He had been
told his father was fearless, but standing here Phineas could not
believe
that. He would not believe that. Not when the fear was gnawing at his insides
here and now. His father had to have
been made of stone to not feel it.
The door opened. The
drop zone was visible with the special
goggles they all wore. They could see
the fire line too. It roared its rage
at them as the first of three gear drops were tossed out the door
attached to a
lead line. The ratchet pulled the
lines back inside as the jumpers prepared. The plane banked and turned.
It was
time. They formed into a rough line and
shuffled forward. The first one dropped
into the night sky and Phineas shuffled two steps forward.
Three more bodies to go, shuffle, two,
shuffle, one, shuffle, red light, green light…
Phineas dove through the
air, not so much flying as cutting through the ocean of air to reach
his
destination all the quicker. His eyes
were focused on the strobes that had been attached to the gearboxes. Inside his goggles the altimeter readings
ticked at a steady pace. Behind him, a
blue flash lit the night sky momentarily, putting Phineas and the other
jumpers
in stark relief against the night sky.
For some reason that silly song his best friend used to play
kept
bouncing around his head…
"It's
Raining Men! Hallelujah!
It's
Raining Men! Every Specimen!
Tall,
blonde, dark and lean
Rough and
tough and strong and mean…"
Phineas couldn't help but to
smile at the memory, mentally singing along as the numbers in his
goggles spun
strangely. He felt his chute deploy
unexpectedly, jerking him hard as he had not yet turned.
His radio squawked, squelched static, and
squawked again. Phineas was busy making
sure his canopy opened properly, scanning the forest for the drop zone
that he
could no longer see due to the thick smoke, and watching the forest
fire that
suddenly seemed larger than before. He did not have time to mess with
the
radio. At least not yet.
On the ground Phineas went
to work, steadily and methodically performing each task as if it were
the one
that might decide if he would live or die.
The readouts in the goggles were not making much sense,
according to the
altimeter; he was still falling through the atmosphere.
The temperature gauge seemed to be working
though, and on the ground, that was the important gauge.
He had searched for the gear
pack that he was supposed to make use of, but no strobe could be seen. So Phineas did the next best thing and used
his personal gear to get the job done.
Clearing brush under normal circumstances was backbreaking work. However when there was a fire headed in your
direction, backbreaking did not even begin to describe it.
Dawn was breaking over the far ridgeline
when Phineas decided to take five, drink some water, and check in with
HQ. His radio squelched, squawked, and
emitted a
sound that Phineas had never heard before, but what it didn't do was
work. Grumbling, Phineas peeled off
the upper
half of his coveralls to get to the inner pocket where he kept his ID
and a few
other important things, like his cell phone.
Phineas frowned at the words
across the screen, 'no network
coverage'. What the dickens did that
mean? He asked himself as he put the phone back in his pocket and
shrugged the coveralls back on. While
he downed half the bottle of water he watched the skylines. The planes should be up and running by now,
dumping water on the firebreak and far ridge, but so far he had not
seen or
heard them. An uneasy feeling crept up
his spine, but Phineas just shrugged it off and got back to work. Maybe something was holding them up. They would come.
It was early afternoon when
Phineas began to question his sanity.
He had been stopping and drinking water regularly, and had even
paused
long enough to scarf down a MRE.
However, nothing short of insanity could explain him seeing what
appeared
to be a silver-hoofed, white-coated unicorn.
Tiny braids were woven into its mane and tail, each with a
silver bell
on the end. A young -- person -- sat
astride it, wearing a crown of flowers and not much else.
Together, they lead a string of forest
inhabitants, not all of which were animals, away from the encroaching
fire, across
the break Phineas had worked so hard to make, and over the far ridge at
a
pretty quick clip. Phineas stopped to
drink more water. Dehydration could
cause hallucinations. An hour passed,
maybe two, Phineas wasn't certain because his watch stopped working
sometime
before dawn and still there was no air coverage. He
rechecked his supplies and decided he had enough to last
another day, maybe two, if he didn't suck down too much water keeping
the
hallucinations at bay.
The shadows had lengthened
indicating evening was upon him. He had
seen no other living creature since that hallucination earlier, and the
temp
gauge was steadily creeping upward. The
fire was coming. Phineas looked at his
work and hoped the firebreak would hold.
Chances of that were slim without the backup of the tankers,
which had
not shown up yet. That worried
him. Had the fire shifted requiring the
team to abandon this section? If so
then why wasn't he recalled? Worriedly,
he pulled out his fire resistant shelter and picked a spot in the
middle of the
break to dig the hole that might save his life.
When it was finished he
looked at it. Coffin-sized.
A shiver ran up his spine. He
looked back toward the fire side of the
forest and saw the blaze headed his way.
Hallucinating, he had to
be. Again.
From over the ridgeline came
the belled unicorn at a full gallop.
His rider, still wearing nothing more than a floral crown, rode
bareback, using only a fistful of mane to keep his seat. Together they
crossed
the fire break and headed toward the encroaching flame.
As they reached the underbrush, the rider
slipped from the unicorn's back, landing in a crouch.
Curious, Phineas headed over to where they entered the
brush. He noticed the fire seemed to be
creeping closer, but trusted his gear to keep him safe.
And it would so long as he wasn't stupid.
What he saw caused his heart
to stop. The youth -- Phineas noted he
was a very well made youth at that -- had faced off with a flaming
lizard. Not a fire-breathing dragon, but a
lizard
that literally dripped flame. The youth
had nothing but a flimsy net and a sharpened wooden stick to defend
himself
with against the flame-lizard. Without
realizing the danger he was putting himself in, Phineas ran toward them. His intention was to put his flame retardant
gear between the youth's alabaster skin and the flame that sought to
scorch
that smooth perfection.
Running headlong into danger
had never been high on Phineas' to-do list.
Then again, neither was being skewered by a raging unicorn;
however,
that is what happened. One moment he
was placing himself between the youth and the flame-lizard, and the
next he was
looking down at the horn protruding from his chest.
That was when the world went
dark.
Gradually Phineas realized
he was not dead. At least he didn't
think he was dead. His head hurt. So did his chest and back.
He was certain nothing should hurt if a
person was dead. He also realized he
was laying on grass -- naked -- and there was something warm lying
beside
him. He tried to move, but failed in
his attempt.
"Shhh, don't move yet,
the healing is not complete," melodious tones filled the air as the
voice
spoke. Phineas smiled as the minutes
passed and he began to feel almost normal.
He opened his eyes. There was still
something protruding from his chest. It
appeared to be a silver spiral. That is
when he remembered the unicorn.
"Is it dead?"
Phineas whispered.
"The salamander is
being returned to the lava flats where it is supposed to live," the
voice
responded.
"No, no, the
unicorn," Phineas corrected.
"He lives,
barely," the tones took on a sadness.
"He is sorry he harmed you.
You were unexpected."
"I thought you were
being hurt," Phineas admitted after a while.
"And you were hurt, so
quiet now," the youth smiled at Phineas, "he will live."
Phineas smiled back and
dropped into oblivion again.
"He's a
SilverWing," one voice whispered loudly, "are you certain you want to
do this?"
"I have no choice. If
Viago is to live…" the melodious
tones Phineas had begun to associate with the youth replied.
"Viago should have
thought about that before he attacked a SilverWing.
They are very difficult to kill," the deeper voice
tsk-tsked.
"He did not know. I
did not know. We were so focused on the
salamander that he surprised us."
"Where is the horn
now?"
"In the
SilverWing."
"How do you plan to do
it?"
"He can not fly…"
the melodious voice replied sadly, "even with wings of silver."
There was silence and
Phineas felt his chest. He knew they
had to be talking about him, but he did not feel the horn, so he
wondered how
it could be inside him. He sighed
and
looked around for some water, certain that he was hallucinating again. Or still.
Several hours passed before
anyone came in the room where he had been sequestered to check on him. When someone did, Phineas was pleased to
discover it was the youth.
"Why did you
come?" he asked as he sat on the chair near the bed.
"There was a
fire…" Phineas began, not quite sure how to answer.
"The salamander,
yes."
"The forest. It's
my… job… to protect the forest from
fire."
The youth cocked his
head. "What type of man are
you?"
Phineas looked at him, not
understanding the question. When he
didn't answer in a reasonable length of time, the youth repeated
himself.
"I am just a man,"
Phineas answered finally.
"Do you feel pain? Love?
Hatred? Joy?"
Phineas nodded at each
question. "I do, why do you
ask?"
"Viago has forbidden me
to harm you, even if it means his death.
I do not want Viago to die."
"Who is Viago?"
"The unicorn in the
forest."
"I don't want him to
die either," Phineas said quietly.
"Then DIE!" the
youth shouted as he ran from the room.
Phineas lay there stunned
for several minutes, then managed to climb out of bed.
Walking unsteadily, he found his way down
the hall and into a garden. There he
found the youth, curled up next to a hornless unicorn.
"Do you really want me
to die?" he asked.
The youth nodded as he clung
to the next of Viago, who nickered softly.
"Then kill me,"
Phineas said gently.
"You can not mean
that."
"I do," Phineas
assured him, "I would rather be dead than to see you sick with
grief."
Viago nickered again; his
muzzle pushed the youth away. The
man-child looked stricken as tears began to pour down his cheeks. "You can not mean it!" Another
nicker. "I will not do it!"
He threw himself prostrate on the ground and beat it with his
hands in
anger and frustration. Phineas
watched. He was even more certain now
that this was a hallucination.
It was dawn when they
stopped at the edge of a cliff. The
youth came for him before the sun had risen and they walked uphill to
this
place. Now they stood facing the
sunrise. "Viago says I must do
this."
"Do you always do what
Viago tells you?"
The youth nodded. "I
was young when he chose me. We are always
chosen young."
"Why did he choose
you?"
"I was not
sullied."
"And what if you
were?"
"Viago would die."
"And if Viago dies
first?"
The youth looked out across
the land. "Then Innocence will
die."
"Did Viago tell you
what you must do?"
"He did."
"Then why are you
here? You should be doing what he
said!"
"I can not go
back," the youth hiccupped as he wept silent tears.
"Viago said that I must…"
Phineas suddenly found
himself embraced by the youth. His arms
wrapped around the youth to support his weight, but still he took an
involuntary step backwards. His heel
slipped on a stone, and the two tumbled through the air.
The heavy thump of a rotor
roused Phineas. It was a sound he had
expected to never hear again. He was
strapped to a rescue basket along with another person.
He opened his eyes and gazed at the youth
from his hallucination. He was
smiling. Phineas smiled back.
Then the world went black.
"…never seen anything
like it before in my life. He was
standing on the edge of the cliff when the tank dumped.
A couple hundred thousand gallons of water
rained down on the fire a few yards behind them and…"
The voice of his commanding
officer penetrated the darkness in Phineas' mind.
"…he just jumped,
clutching the boy to his chest. There
is no way he could have known the water would be deep enough to save
them." After a short pause, the voice continued, "No, no one knows
where the boy came from. We thought
that ridgeline had been cleared. I'm
not even sure how Phineas got up there."
Another pause, "Yes, the boy has woken. He
hasn't spoken to anyone except to ask for 'Silverwing' it took
us a while to figure out that he meant Phineas. He
always wore his father's wings inside his jumpsuit."
Another short silence. Phineas finally
figured out that his commanding officer was talking on the telephone. "No, Phineas seems to be fine.
He's not woken up yet, but the doctors seem
to think it will be any time. Hey hang
on; I think he's… yeah! Hey I'll talk later got to get the doc!"
Phineas was aware of
movement next to him. A slender arm
snaked around his stomach. Phineas
smiled as he opened his eyes to look into those of the youth. The youth smiled, leaned upwards, and kissed
him on the cheek.
"Viago lives."
Phineas smiled, "And so
do you. What is your name?
I have no idea what to call you."
The youth traced a
finger along Phineas' jaw line. "I am
Innocence."
**the end**
© 2007 Lugh
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by Lugh
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