Before Violet

The Missing Piece

         With the setting of the sun outside, only a few feet inside the cave plunged us into complete and heavy darkness. From my own knapsack I took a battery powered light. With the heaviness of the light in one hand and the unwinding ball of twine in the other, I tarried in deeper with a man I did not know, but had to trust.
I made a mental note to invest in a headlamp for myself. Inspecting Swallow in fading light with a heavy hand-held light was beyond cumbersome.
The dark made me uncomfortable and my mind wanted to free associate all things that put my nerves on edge. Dark, trapped,suffocate, scream, cry, echo, ghosts, corpse, war, haunted, blood,pain, lost, alone, death, forgotten. My breath became short and my chest felt pressure. I stopped.
Leon stopped also and turned to look at me. "Take deep breathes, Hya. In and out. And get out of your head."
"Out of my head?" I asked, not understanding.
"Yes. When you are flying, what are you thinking about?"
"Well, everything, other than flying. My hands just know what to do. It frees my mind to wander. It's what I love most about it."
"Do you want to know what I was thinking as we flew?" he asked.
I noddeded.
Leon chuckled. "No, you don't. But I knew I couldn't let it brake my mind. I knew I could trust you, because you are a part of Violet. I knew your aircraft was in tiptop condition because you take care of her. I knew that even though you had never flown this far and landed, you had years of experience to make it happen. So, I forced my thoughts 'to the surface'. Not letting them go any deeper than the outmost layer, where the most simple of thoughts live. It staves away panic. Does that make sense.?"
Whether it did or not, I was able to slow my breathing again and was ready to move forward. I nodded.
"Good," Leon commended, turning, his light focusing on the path ahead. "Take it from someone who has spent many hours of his adult life striving to keep out of the dark of his mind."
I forced my thoughts to parts I needed for Swallow, parts I could perhaps afford now. I thought of the last conversation I had with my father only a week ago. He had come across another bi wing plane from the war for a quick and cheap sale.
It was an older model than Swallow. Father figured parts could be salvaged from it. I asked if it was in really bad condition. If it was still reliable, and if I could seek out another pilot to fly it, then our mail service would be even more efficient with two airmail planes in the air!
             Leon was right. The panic ebbed away almost immediately. 
            The twine was marked in increments for every 10 yards. We were at 75 when Leon found the manuscripts and the celestial document.  The manuscripts were in a couple of trunks.  The document was in a six foot special leather cylinder. All containers were specially sealed for a long life in the damp, cool climate of a cave.
           Leon was pleased. "Very good! Now just how to return these to civilization and their owners. Your grandmother had her doubts on how much your plane could carry."
           I tested the weight of the sealed document case. It proved to be something we could fly back with us immediately.  I just needed to strap it securely underneath Swallow.  The trunks, however would have to wait for transport by ship.
            "So, what kind of manuscripts are these, anyway?"
            "I don't know. If it wasn't sealed, we could look, but I am not into breaking seals. Those who pay for me to retrieve such items frown upon broken seals. So, I honor their wishes and do not tamper."
             "That is for the best, surely. So, where will they go from here?"
             "To a family by the name of Priestwood. I've never met the any of them.  I received a letter of commission from a certain Christopher Priestwood almost a year ago. It has taken this long to track these items down.  They must be worth a large fortune. He is paying a small one to have them returned." 
            Leon adjusted his headlamp.  "Well, on we go."
           I took up the twine ball and unraveled it as we continued our journey deeper, and deeper still.  By the time we reached the 150 yard mark on the twine, the terrain was not as easy to navigate as before. There were twists,  turns, low ceilings and slopes.  I did not care for this part of the journey at all.
           "We're bound to be close. This should come out to an antechamber at around 350 yards. Are you doing alright, Hya?"
           "I-I think so. . ."
            "Keep out of that head, you'll be fine."
             "Ok."
             "So, how old are you, again?"
              "Almost 19."
            "And your plans for the future?"
             "Thank you."
             "For what?"
              "Not assuming that my future plans only involve marriage and making children."
             "It is not my business to assume. It isn't even my business to know. I'm only curious, and keeping your mind in the light through conversation."
             "Oh. I see. . . Well, I am interested in adding another plane to the mail delivery service, and another person who can pilot it."
            "Hmmm. Ever plan on leaving Ecarte Island?"
             I sighed. "The easy answer is to say no, never. But in my experience growing  up between my grandparent's world and my mother's world, the most honest of answer would be never say never."
           "Keeping options open is important."  Leon replied.
            "So, what about you, Leon? What are your plans for the future?"
           "Future? I can't imagine I have much of it left, but whenever I am too disabled to travel and find manuscripts in deep dark caves, I am going to scribe your grandmother's biography."
            I heard myself gasp. "Are you really?"
            "Yes. I've planned on doing that for quite some time.  What do you think?"
              "I think it's brilliant!"
              "So I have your permission?"
              "Of course! I think you've probably done the most accurate research of anyone, surely."
             "Alright, I have you onboard, now I'll need all the others."
             "Others?"
             "Well, your grandparents, of course, and there may be certain approvals I need from the Leidenschaftlich army.  I could get into some very uncomfortable water if I do not clear my work with them."
           "Oh. . .didn't think of that."
            "I just need information on the time before she-. . ."   Leon's voice trailed away as they walked into a sizable antechamber. 
            My ball of twine was no bigger than a large marble now.  The distance read 350 yards, exactly. 
             Leon said nothing as he took out of his knapsack a special reflector disk the size of a small dinner plate (a salad plate, dear, as my mother would correct me). He slipped the headlamp off, and detached the battery pack from his belt. He attached the disk and the chamber immediately became full of light, as if by lantern.
          The chamber was no small area, approximately 15 feet in height, and maybe 20 feet along each jagged wall.  Along one of the walls were metal, military grade file cabinets and trunks.  The symbol of a wolf's head had been stenciled in paint on each one with the words Sicard Bio surrounding it.  All the containers were secured with puzzle locks.
            Leon examined the locks, then consulted yet another notebook, each page, front and back, jammed packed with words written tiny in order to fit. I wondered if this little notebook was all about my grandmother. It would not have surprised me at all if it were.  The musings of an obsessive man.
          Solving the puzzle locks took a good moment, and I feared Leon would become frustrated and belligerent. There were beads of sweat on his brow but other than that, he worked quietly. 
           I felt excitement of what the locked containers would reveal, but it did not override my rumbling stomach in need of  food and water.  While well into my second pastie. I heard an audible click.
            Leon sat back on his heels, frozen. The lock was open to one of the file cabinets.  He turned and looked at me, stunned, then went to work pulling open drawers and bringing out of it tons of files.
             I ventured closer. Each file was only identifiable by a serial number. I took one that Leon had already placed aside and opened it.  The first page was a certificate of birth and multiple photographs of a naked newborn male baby from numerous angles and different parts like arms, legs, back, and head. There were no names on the document, only numbers, codes and comments, not unlike a medical chart.
            I looked at the next page where two separate photos were posted, one of a nude female standing at attention like a soldier. The other was a nude of a male standing also as a soldier. Both had military conditioned physiques, their faces showing no sign of emotion.  Beneath each picture were more serial numbers, more codes, more commentary.
           The rest of the file featured more photos of the same child. As a two year-old, it stood, as a soldier, and even in miniature military uniform of no particular army, only the emblem of a wolf's head, the child's face void of emotion.
As a four year-old the same child again in a black robe worn by those practicing martial arts. More commentary.  The next several pages were filled with the child at 5 handling a short saber sword, a handgun, a rifle, explosives. 
Then there was a picture of the child at 8, in uniform, emotionless, his arm thrusted out to reveal a bandage, as if he had recently had some sort of surgery on his right hand. There was a large red stamp on the following page reading "Dispatched" with a code number.
            The next page held information of a sort of transaction.  I could only read the money value, that being 140,000 Corse. 
              "Child soldiers bred for hire?" I asked.
               "Yes. This Sicard Bio company was so top secret, nobody spoke of it to outsiders and lived."
                 "My grandmother was one of these children, wasn't she?"
                "That is my theory. Just looking for proof."
               I turned to the last page of the file to the final photo of the now teenaged boy. He was no longer handling firearms, nor in martial arts robes. He was dead, in rubble, eyes open to the sky, blood streaming out of his nose, mouth, and ears. Across the gruesome photo was big red stamp reading 'Discarded'.
My hand involuntarily flew to my mouth in shock and I closed the file and for some reason held it against me tightly. I felt my breath shortened again and I tried to calm myself by taking in deep breaths.
"AH!!! AH-HA!!!" Leon exclaimed hopping to his feet, with an open file in his hands.
His outburst made me jump. "What? What is it?" I asked breathlessly.
Leon looked down at me, then closed the file.
"Was your theory correct?" I asked, feeling my mouth water and tears flood my eyes. I could feel my nose begin to run.
"I'm sorry, Hya. I did not mean to react that way. That was very insensitive of me."
I shook my head and wiped my tears away with my sleeve. "I understand. This is very important to you and it helps that my grandmother at least means something to you."
"Yes." Leon agreed, "Very much so."
I continued to dry my tears and sniff, until I took in a deep breath. "May I see?" I asked, reaching for the closed file in Leon's hand.
He paused, then placed the file in my hands. I opened the file randomly to a photo of myself at the age of five. In my hand was a pistol pointed straight at the camera. My face held no emotion whatsoever. . .