The weather was too nice for a day like today. The sound of songbirds outside was jarring to her ears. Clay slumped against the passenger side of Zach's Civic, and struggled to keep her eyes open as they waited in front of the bridge.
Zach looked her directly in the eyes. "Are you sure you don't want me to wait out here for you?"
"Yes Zach, I'm sure. I don't know how long I'll be."
"Let me come with you. Gabriel can interview Cameron instead, and...."
She shook her head. "It's far too dangerous for you. They'd shoot you the minute we step foot on the property. You're helping out far more by staying back."
Zach looked ahead out of the dusty windshield. He gripped the steering wheel with one hand and touched Clay's leg with the other. She fought the urge to push him away.
"I'll come back, I promise," she said and put her hand on his. "No matter how long it takes, I'll get myself and Anpiel out of there for good." Clay hoped she sounded confident, but knew she couldn't guarantee she would ever see him, or the others again. "Once your article is published, the lab won't be a problem."
"Yeah, but you and Cameron are probably right. There are more facilities out there just like it."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Clay squeezed his hand. "I have to go."
"Hey, come here a sec," Zach said, and she leaned in. He pulled her into his arms and held her close. "I don't want to let you go."
Clay closed her eyes and breathed him in. He smelled of Irish Spring soap and faintly of cigarette smoke. She wished she could go home.
Zach gently kissed the top of her head and released her. "Be careful ok?" He sniffled and she thought he may be crying, but couldn't tell for sure.
"Of course," she said and tried to smile. The lump at the base of her throat hurt. It chafed against every word she spoke. She climbed out of the car and began to cross the bridge. She thought of the story of Lot's wife and how she was turned into a pillar of salt for daring to look back at her burning home. Despite herself, she looked over her shoulder and could still see him through the window. He looked lost.
*****
His sneakers squeaked against the concrete floor when he rounded the corner a little too fast. James winced at the harsh sound. He checked over his shoulder to find nothing but the empty hallway. The heavy wool blanket he brought down with him scratched his forearms.
He neared the storage room and felt his heart flutter. He was brought back to the day they first met. Though Rachael had been gone for two years when he arrived, the project had been in great shape. It was its wings, of course, that had caught his attention, but its large blue eyes and wide smile held it. It crushed him to see it disappear as the years went on.
Everything had gotten overwhelming so quickly. When he began, he hadn't realised how much went into orchestrating the project. At first, he had enjoyed assuming such control over it; When to eat, when to shower - it was all up to him. Then the paperwork grew tiring. Everything needed a request for approval that involved weekly applications. It was all too much.
Things would be different now that it was going to be just the two of them. There would be no need to submit anything, and he could make up for the lost time. It would be much better this time around.
With a shaking hand, James used his key card to unlock the storage room. He clicked on the overhead light. Covered by a blue tarp and crammed under the shelves was a medium-sized dog crate. In the silence, he heard the rasp of its rapid, apical breathing. The tang of sweat and urine filled the already stale basement air.
When he removed the tarp, it scurried to the back of the cage and crammed its knees up under its chin. Its magnificent wings were folded tight and pressed close to its body. Its eyes burrowed into him. The rage in them was like a slap to the face. It was far from the fear he had seen that fateful night.
"I'm here to rescue you," he said. He fumbled for the keyring in his coat pocket. The sheen of sweat on his palms made them slip around too much.
A2 did not reply but continued to stare up at him. Even as he unlocked the door, it did not move.
"Come on," he said. "We have to hurry."
He tapped his foot. It wouldn't budge. He knelt down and tried to haul it out, but it held its arms so tight to itself he could hardly get a grip.
"I'm trying to get you out of here. If we don't leave now, they're going to kill you. Do you understand?"
Finally, it crawled out. He reached for its hand and it quickly pulled it away.
"Where's Clay?" It asked. Its eyes were now directed at the floor and its hands clasped together in the front.
"Clay?"
"Project... project E1. Did she come for me?"
James scoffed, disappointed she would ask for it rather than be happy to see him. Especially after all he had risked to come down here.
"No. There's been no sign of E1. Now hurry." James spread out the blanket and draped it over its shoulders to hide its wings on their journey, and nudged it forward. A2 jumped, then quickly fell into step. The fire he had seen in it just moments ago faded out. Its head hung low and its dark hair fell over its face. The end of the blanket dragged across the concrete floor as it shuffled down the hallway.
James allowed it to walk in the front so he could keep an eye on it. As much as he hated the thought, he didn't trust A2 not to bolt. He wanted them to be able to trust each other. That would certainly have to be something to work on once they got home. It would happen in time, he was sure.
He directed A2 towards the fire escape. Every sound, no matter how small, made him jump. The scuff of their shoes on the grated metal stairs reverberated with a tinny echo. At the top, James squeezed past A2 to open the door to the empty parking lot. It clutched the blanket tight against the cold night air.
Though his car was the lone one, he compulsively checked over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being watched or followed. He had also made sure to disable all CCTV cameras along their route.
James used his keys to pop the trunk when they approached the car.
"Get in," he said. He had tried his best to clear the trunk out in preparation for today, but it still contained a few old bags of bottles he had meant to take out to recycle. "I know it's not the most comfortable situation but it will have to do. I was going to deal with those bottles before work but I got so busy...." he adjusted his shirt collar. The skin on the back of his neck had suddenly gotten so hot.
A2 looked from him to the trunk and back again. "No."
He raised his eyebrows. In his entire career, Project A2 had never once said 'No.' Not to anyone.
"What do you mean no?"
It crossed its thin arms across its chest. The blanket fell down around A2's shoulders like a shawl. "I'm not getting in there. I want to go home."
"We are going home."
Its eyes flashed rage. "You know what I mean. I want to go back to the farm."
"Oh," he faked a laugh and forced himself to smile. "I already told you, but you must not have been listening to me. You must be so out of sorts." He rubbed its arm in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He ignored the sudden tension. "I'm rescuing you. I'm going to take you back."
A2 narrowed its eyes. "No you're not."
"What else would I be doing? Do you think Father authorised me to come down and get you? No, he wanted me to kill you. I told him no way would I ever do such a thing. I risked everything to come down and get you."
"I don't believe you. Why would you do that for me?"
He wiped his palms on his lab coat. "Look, I feel really bad about what happened that night. It shouldn't have happened. As much as I used to like the guy, Sean deserved what he got. I know you'll probably never forgive me, and you shouldn't, but I thought I'd at least try to make it up to you."
A2 seemed to relax a bit and shifted its weight from foot to foot.
"Then let me go."
"What?"
"If you're serious, you'll let me go now. I'll fly myself back there. I'm sure I know the way." A2 stumbled a small step back. "Thank you though, for um, saving me."
"I can't just let you go," James said hastily and tried to come up with a reason that would make sense, but all he could grab onto was his own desperation. If he let it get in the air he could never get it back.
"I won't tell anyone how I got out. Not even Gabriel or Sam." A2 took another step back.
"Please, I'm trying to help you." He heard the wheedling in his own voice and cringed.
"Then help me and let me go."
"I can't."
A2 didn't wait another moment. It turned and ran, its wings already spread. James peeled after it. The wind caught under A2's feathers and it began to fly. His heart was lodged in his throat and he struggled to catch his breath. He was gaining on A2, but it was rising quickly. If he didn't do something fast, A2 would be out of his reach forever.
Oh God, what would Father say?
He couldn't bear to think of it. James sprinted. Already winded, his muscles stitched. In a final attempt, he used what momentum and speed he had left to lunge up at it. To his amazement, he caught A2 around the legs and dragged them both back to the hard pavement. A2 shrieked as James pinned it to the ground.
"Go ahead. Get it out of your system. No one can hear you." He rummaged in his lab coat for the syringe he had prepared. Just in case. "I had really hoped I wouldn't need this, but you left me no choice." He plunged the needle into A2's thigh. "This could have been so much easier."
When he was certain it was fully unconscious, he released his grip and got off of its still body. A2 was so beautiful sprawled out, wings fully spread, its raven hair splayed around its head in a wild corona. James scooped A2 up in his arms and delicately placed it in the trunk.
*****
The engine rumbled the floor beneath her as she opened her eyes to darkness. Gradually, she realised where she was. Hot tears stung her eyes and she couldn't stop them from coming. The heavy weight of dread sat like a stone in the pit of her stomach. Somehow this felt worse than the dog crate. At least then she had known what to expect. Anpiel had barely begun to regain her bearings before the car stopped suddenly and knocked her over. The trunk cranked open and James peered down at her. He offered her his hand.
"Quickly," he said. "Before we're seen."
She let him help her out. The sweat of his palms was clammy against her forearms. He nearly lost his grip on her a few times. Once she was out he directed her toward the house.
She gazed at the large home. It reminded her of a house she had seen sketched in a ghost story once. The three stories and turret towered over her. The pale yellow siding rotted and peeled away in patches to reveal spots of grey wood. Pieces of the white trim were dingy and came unhinged from their place around the window. Grass grew through the slats in the front porch, as the whole front yard and garden had been allowed to become overgrown.
Anpiel followed James inside. Most of the space in the entryway was taken up by the grand staircase. She attempted to step aside through the archway into the kitchen to get more space, but James gently took her hand and pulled her back.
"I'll show you to your room," he said and gestured for her to go up the stairs.
The stairs loomed ahead. The stone of dread in her gut rolled again as she gradually put one foot in front of the other. Anpiel hesitated. She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
I'll be pinned if I go up there.
James moved to stand behind her. She took the hint and moved along. Various crumbs were stomped into the moss green fibres of the carpet and clumps of shed cat hair clustered in wads around the base of the railing.
Anpiel stopped when they arrived on the second floor. The main hallway forked where it was divided by the chimney.
"To the right," James said and nudged her along with a kick to the back of the calf. She stumbled forward past the master bedroom. The door was jammed open because the piles of clothes on the floor would not allow it to shut all the way. The nightstand next to the bed was heaped with empty plates, cups, and chip bags. The bed was stripped of the sheets to reveal a mattress covered in splotches.
James hurried her along to the door at the end of the hallway. He dug a key out of his pants pocket and stepped ahead of her to unlock the door to another staircase. This one was steep and led up to yet another door. The baseboards were caked in a thin layer of dust. Each step creaked under their weight.
"Go on, open the door," James said when they reached the top.
Anpiel struggled with the brass knob. It was slick, and cold under her palm. She was eventually able to get a grip and shoved the door open. The turret room had been arranged into a living space. James closed the door behind them and gestured for her to have a seat on the bed. She gazed around the cramped space. It didn't take long to take it all in. The bookshelf and wardrobe were crammed in one corner opposite the bay window and loveseat. A small television was stationed in the last little nook of space. James joined her at the opposite end of the bed and the mattress springs squeaked in protest. Anpiel felt unsure if the white metal bed frame was capable of holding both of them.
"I want you to make yourself at home," said James. "If you need anything, all you have to do is ask." He reached over and stroked the side of her hair with the back of his hand. "I think you'll be happy here if you can just give it a chance."
Every muscle in her body went rigid. The palms of her hands were numb and tingly. She couldn't breathe. The air trapped inside her chest pushed against her ribs with tremendous pressure.
She squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the brush of his clammy lips on her cheek. He patted her leg, then stood up. "I'm going to get some snacks and I'll be right back."
Anpiel heard the loud thunk of the old key in the lock. The moment she knew he was gone she exhaled sharply and gasped like a fish out of water. She clutched her chest and struggled to catch her breath. She pulled her wings tight and flopped into a foetal position on the bed.