I Am A Flyer

Fun, huh?

"Suil?" His voice was better now, and didn't hurt as much to talk.

"Mm?"

"What happened to you? I mean, your arm. . ."

Suil gave a little sigh, and shifted his weight on the bunk below. "Derris, the flyer who. . .found me, is a Reconnaissance Flyer of the Eighth guild. He was showing me the importance of stealth, which involved him hunting me down in some gigantic forest. . . Of course, I didn't last long, and in the end of it all, I had a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder."

"Oh." Jett swallowed. His frightened thoughts were only confirmed with Suil's explanation. This Troit place was filled with terrifying flyers who didn't think twice about harming and destroying and killing. . .

Which made him shudder, because this place was really a horrible nightmare. So then, what about all the other boys? This barrack had once been full of them, but now, he and Suil were the only ones here. At least, at this moment in time, they were.

If that were so, then surely the others must be out 'training,' or whatever the flyers called their torture. Either that, or . . . .he gulped.

"Suil?"

"Hm."

"Where's . . . where's all the others?"

"Others?"

"The others like us. I haven't seen any of them since I was last here."

Suil stared up at the bottom of Jett's bunk. "Forty-six," he softly stated.

"Huh?"

"There were forty-six of us when this started," Suil explained quietly. "And now...there's fourteen, including you and I."

"Fourteen?" Jett was astounded. "And the rest? Does that mean they- they're. . ."

"Pretty much. They're either dead or forever crippled, beyond the help of the medics."

"That's horrible," Jett was horrified.

"It is, isn't it?" Suil agreed calmly. "Seems like these flyers excel at brutality and destruction. Then again, the rest of humankind isn't all that different."

"But Suil - " Jett abruptly bit his own words off. It was true, wasn't it? The villagers had never shown a single glimmer of kindness to him. They were nothing but brutal bullies. And himself - hadn't he used his own strength to kill animals for his own food? Sure, he knew it was for the sake of survival, but still - he had killed something. He had overpowered it and destroyed its life.

At least though, he hated hunting. He loathed hurting other living creatures, and would die before harming another human. And that was one of the very reasons why he didn't want to become a flyer. Because at the very first glimpse of Gray, he had known. He'd realized that Gray was a killer. All flyers were killers.

"Isn't there any way. . .?"

"What?"

Jett clenched his fists. "Isn't there a way to get out of all this? I don't - I don't want this!"

"I'm sorry for you, Jett," Suil murmured sadly, "but there's nothing we can do. These tracker bands - you can't remove them, and they broadcast your location. They'll know where you are at all times."

"Yeah..." Jett lifted his left arm, and stared at the band on his wrist. If only he could remove it. . . He tugged on it with his other hand, but the band seemed like it was glued to his skin. So he bit it, to see if he could tear it that way. But the material was tough, and wouldn't even dent.

His hand dropped, but he was far from discouraged. In fact, there seemed to be a tiny flame of hope, as an idea began to form. An idea that would lead to an un-trackable escape.