The Stolen Star

5

The aircar rises smoothly, almost soundlessly. The buildings drop away as the driver takes us into the traffic lanes, high above the city. I glance over at David. He’s deep in thought, mindlessly watching the city below us.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Away from here. North. Georgia.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “You’ll like it. You won’t have to work. We’ll be able to stay for a while.”

“That’s good. What makes this place different?”

“There’s nobody else around. It’ll be just me and you, for the most part. We can relax for a little while.”

This time, I’m quiet. “I don’t want to keep running. This is a horrible way to live my life. I want normal stuff.”

“Yeah. One day.”

“Why do we run, David?”

He props his elbow on the armrest and leans his chin on his head, forehead against the window. “I know things, angel. Things that are very, very valuable to certain people. I can’t leave you behind, because they know I care about you, and they’d use you to get to me. At least if you’re with me, I can protect you.” He looks over at me, a sad smile on his lips and in his eyes.

Monster is a liar. He’s true to his name--a monster. David wouldn’t betray me. I refuse to believe it.

I cross my arms over my chest and slouch down in my seat, sort of tucked into the corner of the door and the back of the seat. It’s not the most comfortable position, but I’ve slept in worse. The ride feels like it’s going to be a long one. We’re high, just under the safety limit for domestic aircars. Aircars are an efficient way to travel--not as fast as airplanes, but cheaper and more comfortable. Every so often we pass by a bright lane-marker beacon.

Sleep takes me, and I slip easily into a dream. I know I’m dreaming. It makes the scene even more surreal. Everything around me is either gleaming white or crystal-clear glass. The room I’m in overlooks a forest from several stories up. A bit of lawn separates the building from the trees. White chairs dot the stretch of emerald-green grass. A colorful jungle gym sits in the shade.

“Don’t touch the glass, angel,” a man calls out from behind me. “You’ll leave fingerprints. You know how Terese hates that.”

I look down at my small, small hand. Shock ripples through me. I’m so young. So tiny. I’m fully aware of my adult body, but at the same time, the child’s body. I’m wearing a pale yellow dress that reaches my knees. I’m barefoot. My hair falls down my shoulders from loose pigtails.

“Can I go play outside today?” I ask.

“We’ll see.”

Outside is a dream. They’ve never let this little girl out outside.

There’s a loud bang behind me. I turn, startled. Red liquid runs across the floor and surrounds my bare toes. I’m bigger now, a little older. The fluid surrounds my feet. A few feet away, the man lies on the floor, his face a mess of raw flesh, blood, and bone fragments. He’s still alive. His eyes roll wildly as he tries to look at me. What’s left of his mouth works, opens and closes, but since a chunk of his throat is missing, he can’t make any noise.

There’s someone else standing in the room, near him. His name is Ben, I think. The man on the floor is Ben.

The man standing over him is familiar. Younger, but someone I know well, now.

David.

He’s barely more than a kid. The gun in his hand seems huge. Tears well up in his eyes and run down his cheeks. He lets go of the gun with one hand and swipes them away, knocking his glasses askew as he does.