He woke with a bit of a start. The cave rarely allowed outside noise in, but he heard or felt something. A vibration or a low humming. He sat up and wiggled out of the sleeping bag Tilly provided, glancing over his shoulder at Samantha, who was still nestled deep in hers. While rolling up his sleeping bag and somewhat successfully shoving it back in the small bag it had come in, he kept glancing at her, half amazed that the noise hadn't woken her too. They had sat up the better part of two nights, waiting for word or waiting to be found, but nothing happened. Exhausted, they had finally fell asleep.
Farling had remained with them most of this time, but he was now gone. The first night, he filled them in on many contradicting scenarios that kept Marshall and Samantha glancing time and time again at each other in disbelief. He said if they were discovered; they were not to put up a fight. They were to remain respectful and non-threatening. Their survival, in which he meant hers, Marshall believed, was at least, if not out and out guaranteed, stronger if she co-operated. And if they take her to Quebec, Farling will follow and free her when the time was right. Marshall's survival wasn't mentioned in this scenario, but he took comfort that Farling would continue to help Samantha.
It was now well over forty-eight hours since they had entered the cave. Daylight was entering through fissures in the rocks. The lake was a grey ash with the stone walls rising around it. He hoped Farling would return soon. He said he would keep them informed. How was it possible to make the right choice if Marshall couldn't see anything, hear anything? Wasn't told anything.
To stay respectful to Tilly meant they had to wait, but waiting was full of turmoil for him. After all, Carol had instructed them to wait for her return, which only resulted in his brothers dying. He didn't want to wait. He wanted to make sure things were okay. That Tilly and Louis were okay. That the birds were okay. He looked again at Samantha as she slept. It wouldn't hurt to at least find out what was going on. Taking one of the two rucksacks, he left the cave.
He kept low as he rounded the back of the aviary, and spotting no one on or near the cobblestone path, he continued past the aviary's door and towards the homestead. All was still quiet as he left the pathway to scoot up behind the barn. He glanced over at the house, spotting what he believed might have been a tank. Two other vehicles were just disappearing down the tree line road towards the gate. As he crouched onward to the back of the shed that led to the bunker, he was almost spotted by one of two soldiers that were just exiting the shed. He dropped lower, his back against the corner of barn and attached shed, pressing against it. All they had to do was turn around to spot him, but thankfully they stepped slightly out of the frame again as they approached another voice. Another soldier.
"Nothing?" A voice asked.
"Just a bunch of scared, weird looking birds down there."
"Yeah, we're to load those birds into the truck, along with the goats. Why don't you and Gord do that, while I tell Jess and her crew to search the wood again from the gate in. We'll flush them out. When you finish loading the truck meet me at the aviary. We're to put the storks down."
"All of them?"
"New orders. One tried to drop a rock on Brice's head."
As they moved off, Marshall raced back to the aviary. He threw open the door and headed quickly to the nesting columns. Some of the flock immediately joined him as he crossed this expanse of exposed area. He could not say for sure if they made good cover or were simply amplifying his every step. As he passed the hatchling cages, he faltered but resumed his jog again. Choices weren't always easy, but he only had room in his rucksack for a few. As he climbed the ladder to Heidi and Simon's nest, she looked quizzically at him, but his sudden presence didn't alarm her. The stork chick, who had hatched a few days prior and was already almost the size of Olive, was asleep. Olive was preening the start of what would become her flight feathers. "I need to take them. I promise I will keep them safe. I'll return them when I can to you." She was flustered now as he gathered Olive up. He really didn't want to make Heidi worry, but out of all the birds here, he couldn't think of another two that represented the results of Tilly and Louis's efforts this well. He gently picked up the marabou chick and placed it in his rucksack beside the crane chick. "Heidi, you need to leave the aviary. All the others as well. Get as far away as you can. Stay away as long as you can. We'll try to fix this. I promise."
There was some fluttering and chirping inside his rucksack as he started down the ladder, but the chicks soon settled again. He gave the same instructions to the other storks, at least to the ones that followed him from the aviary. Many took him up on this, Heidi among them now that her chicks were in his care. Some storks, however, ignored the open door and freedom to remain with their offspring. Or simply out of fear. There were several young painted storks still gathered about the pool. Again, he hesitated, shifting his rucksack gently and looking around. There was an undercurrent of distress coming from all around now. From the trees too, he believed, as this search party moved threw them. He wished the remaining storks could feel it, for he was at a lost on how to make them leave without causing a bigger commotion. But he had to get back before he, too, was spotted. Once again, acknowledging that choices were seldom easy.
He just entered the cave when he noticed Farling up ahead, inching his way through the cavity, shielding his head with his yellow scribbler and the red book. He was dragging behind him a large nylon bag. He was bent at such an awkward angle it would have been easier if he had gotten on his hand and knees and crawled through. Farling must have known Marshall was behind him, for he suddenly left the nylon bag for Marshall to take the rest of the way. Once through and into the larger cavern, Farling straightened and wiped at the sleeves of his jacket. The scribbler he held now had Book One of Tomorrow written in red ink across the cover, and included in its growing bulk was what Marshall believed were many sheets of old printer paper, complete with a roll of detachable holes along each side. The preacher's tiny print was everywhere on the sheets that jutted out from the scribbler.
"I would have returned sooner but I had to rewrite a section," Farling said. He was fidgety, tapping his foot. "This man from the east has no aura. None whatsoever. It is very disturbing. I have seen countless damaged and broken souls, but I have seen very few where it had been erased entirely. There is even the possibility that he hadn't been born with one. I don't know what this might mean. We need to go. I can no longer allow Samantha to be captured under any circumstances. I need to keep her far from him. I had begun to hope that if she was caught that her nearness to him might change him in some small way. For inside her comes a healing source. But she can't heal something that isn't there."
Samantha sat up in her sleeping bag, rubbed at her eyes. "If you would have taken the time to ask me what I was willing to do to save myself, Farling, I could have saved you a rewrite, because I wasn't ever going with him." She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and got to her feet. "I found a tunnel. A sizeable one. Under the lake," she said. "It's about twenty feet below the surface. It may lead us to another cave?"
"Sounds far too risky," Farling grabbed up his nylon bag, unzipped it to stuff his books into it.
Marshall had to agree. He only just learned to swim.
"Better if we start down the mountain," Farling said.
"They're searching up there for us. We won't make it anywhere near the gate," Marshall said.
"We're going down this side," Farling said.
"Impossible." Samantha said.
"Difficult, not impossible," Farling said.
Samantha raised an eyebrow. "You want us to climb down an almost sheer rock face, but an underwater tunnel is too risky?"
"I can prevent you from falling, not drowning. I am not well suited for water. Come. We're running out of time." Farling stooped again to exit the cave.
"What should we do?" Samantha asked Marshall, as he helped her roll up her sleeping bag and stuff it into her rucksack.
"I rather take the mountain down," he said, looking over his shoulder at the lake. "But you're a wonderful swimmer. The tunnel is perhaps a safer choice for you."
She sighed. "I guess I can't expect Aquaman after only one swimming lesson."
"But it was a lovely swimming lesson," he said, with a smile.
She smiled back. "And I rather we stick together. Farling will prevent us from falling. Hopefully."
"Down the mountain it is then," he said, happy they now shared the same choice.
YOU ARE READING
New Birds
Science FictionThe worst is over. Social order is on the rise, a new food is feeding all registered families, cloning is outlawed, and the bigger biotech companies are making early strives in reintroducing lost species. Tilly and Louis, the stewards of a remote, o...