Free Refuge by Robert Stanek Page A

One jump, a few seconds of dangling weightless, and it’d all be over. This may seem a dark thought, but given what awaits us it might be a gift.
       Death’s something I deserve for the blood on my hands and there’s not a moment that goes by I don’t know who and what I’ve become. I see death in every shadow. I see the gold from yesterday. She begs for mercy, death. I see the coppers from the Cogent airship. One falls to his knees and slumps to the side. The other lies motionless, her arms limp at her sides. All three dead at my hand.
       I see Jetta, poor Jetta who didn’t deserve any of this, killed by Matthew and torn apart by wolves. Even lifeless her eyes were piercing, and I can’t help thinking how truly beautiful she was with those pale blue eyes and that long brown hair. I can’t help but wonder how many others have died, how many others will die.
       I feel the pull of the train beneath me. The wind picks up as we start into the curve.
       I jump. My feet bicycle in the air. Sierra and Luke are at my left side, Matthew between them. In this dangerous instant, I feel connected to everyone and everything.
       The pull of Luke is the strongest. I can feel him reach out to me. Cedes…
       I answer: …Luke.
       Our emotional bond is our connection. It’s what keeps the Cogents out of his mind—and out of mine.
       I land hard. The impact makes me feel the ache of my muscles and for a time the throbbing of my shoulder is muted. I turn to where Sierra and Luke should be, but they aren’t there. They’re at the edge of the roof instead, each with a hand extended holding onto one of Matthew’s arms. The pain in Matthew’s shredded arm must be unbearable because his screams fill the air.
       I scramble to them and reach down with both arms until I’ve latched onto Matthew too. Matthew may deserve to die for what he’s done, but a dead man won’t be able to tell us what we need to know to survive the day.
       “I’ve got him,” I say, my shoulders and chest over the side.
       Matthew doesn’t want our help. I see it in his eyes. “Let me go,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
       Luke and Sierra have him by the shoulders. He’s almost up. My hands are around his midsection. “Pull,” Sierra says, “pull.”
       Once Matthew’s chest comes up over the edge, the rest is easy. We drag him up onto the roof whether he wants to be with us or not. When it’s over, Sierra and I are on our backs gasping for air. But Luke’s not beside us. He’s up, with his hands around Matthew’s throat.
       “I should have let you fall,” Luke says. “Why, Matthew, why?”
       Whatever Matthew replies is lost to me as a vertical wing, its twin chain guns spinning and spitting bullets+, rockets up from below. Sierra and I are running for cover before Luke is able to get Matthew to his feet. They manage only a few steps before the wing’s guns find Matthew and Luke is left holding onto the bloody stump of what was once Matthew’s arm.
       The access door that’ll get us off the roof is on the opposite side of the building. I hand Sierra my blaster pistol as I ready my rifle. She looks at as if I’ve just handed her hot embers from the meal room fire. Luke’s spinning around and shooting by the time I’m shooting. He goes down behind a large metal box on the roof. It’s small but big enough to offer protection.
       “Luke, you okay?” I shout, as Sierra and I continue running away. “Talk to me.”
       “The door. Get off this roof,” Luke shouts back.
     

 
     
     
Chapter 2
    Node: 010
     
     
     
    My thoughts have been of Luke’s safety, not of the door. The roof ahead dips; the difference creates a low wall. Sierra and I go over the edge and down. “We’re going through that door together or not at all,” I say.
       Luke fires, pulls back just as the wing shreds the air he’d occupied an instant before. “This thing’s too