Free Frek and the Elixir by Rudy Rucker

tips of his toes. He caught the watchbird full-on with the center of the racquet and sent it hurtling toward the turmite mound.
    If the watchbird wasn’t dead when it hit the ground, it was a few seconds later. A mass of the angry, tweaked insects crawled over its body, biting.
    â€œYes, Frek!” called Mom in a low, intense tone. She radiated urgency. “Quick! Let’s get your wings on. Come over here and lie down on them. I’ll help. And listen, I’m going to give you the mate to Carb’s ring. He left it for you. It’s exactly like his.” She drew a heavy shiny ring out of her pocket and slipped it onto his finger. She’d wrapped some sticky bark tape around the band to make the ring small enough to stay on.
    â€œI’m supposed to run away?” whispered Frek, not quite believing it. He looked down at the ring. It was indeed exactly like Dad’s, a solid gold band, thicker on one side, with a glowing dot of red set into a depression in the thick part. The red spot wasn’t a gemstone; it was, rather, a shimmering ball, like a tiny, immaterial fire suspended at the base of a little golden cup in the ring. Frek had studied Dad’s ring many times.
    He ran his finger over the smooth metal, oddly warm to the touch. The origin of Dad’s ring was a bit mysterious; Dad had once told Frek that he’d gotten it in a dream he had the night before Frek was born, a dream about some kind of magic pig. But Carb had never filled in the details, nor told him about this copy. Wearing it was almost like holding hands with his father. Frek smiled down at it, then looked up at Lora.
    â€œI’m supposed to run away?” he repeated.
    â€œNot so loud,” hissed Mom. “The house will hear you. Yes, run away before Gov takes you again. Your brain will get better by itself. You still have something wrong, don’t you?”
    â€œI can’t remember what I’m doing,” breathed Frek. He was lying on the wings now. “Things slip away from me.”
    â€œOh, Carb had that too after they peeked him,” said Mom with another anxious glance at the house tree. “He was getting better, but Gov didn’t want to give him time. You’ll be fine.” She leaned over and helped with the angelwings, her voice even lower than before. “Hurry. There’s a Crufter hideout five kilometers west of town. Follow the river upstream. The hideout’s in the ruins of that old hydro plant. You’ve seen the ruins, we’ve been there for picnics. There’s a door down near the base on the other side. Pound on it and show them the ring and someone will help you for sure. Your father, he always thought you were destined to do something special. Maybe he was right.” The angelwings were tightly attached now. Mom stood back. “Hurry, Frek!”
    Frek got to his feet and flexed his wings. He was still holding the racquet. What all had Mom just said? Where was the hideout?
    â€œHere,” said Mom, showing him a folded piece of paper and then shoving it into the pocket of his pants. “I wrote everything down for you. Take it one step at a time. First you fly to the river.” She pointed away from Lookout Mountain. “You know where the river is, Frek.” She took hold of him and turned him so he was facing downhill. “You take off, and you fly fast and low. Stay under the trees whenever you can. The counselors will be looking for you. Got that much?”
    â€œFast and low,” said Frek. “Where’s the hideout again?”
    â€œUpstream,” said Mom. “When you get to the river, fly toward the sun. To the left. It’s all on this paper.” She gave him a fierce kiss on his cheek. “Go now, Frek. And be careful.”
    â€œI love you,” said Frek, hugging her.
    â€œBuddha bless you, dear son. You’re my heart’s delight.”
    Wow suddenly came trotting into the yard, his