Call of the Starling

Chapter 6

The next morning, all of us wake up without really talking to each other. We eat breakfast in silence, and then make our way to the door to the rest of the Dark World. Today we’re headed out to a practice battlefield, and I think that all of us feel some tidbit of twisted amusement at the situation; yesterday, these were the Doors of Death. Today, they’re our escape from the pressing confines of the Dark World; our ticket into the wild to do whatever we please.

Once we’ve boarded the helicopters in our groups, the other three with me sit down, exchanging fleeting glances. I know what they’re thinking. One person is missing since last time. Nighthawk’s gone.

Eventually, Eagle takes a breath, and asks, “Well, what do you think it’ll be this time?”

Her innocent question manages to spark a quiet, hesitant conversation between the three of them, but I remain standing in the corner, feeling the thrum of the metal frame of the helicopter, enjoying the sense of power I feel, knowing I am high in the air, flying above the world I have always been held captive by. I don’t blame the other three for not sharing in the sort of melancholy joy I feel. They’re all more extroverted people, and so 24-7’s way of mourning is probably more challenging for any of them than it is for me. Holding silence is more of a relief for me than anything else. 

The ride takes a little over two hours, and though the others invite me, I make no move to join in their conversation. When we finally begin to descend, I’m starting to feel nauseous, and am perfectly happy to exit the copter. 

 We’re the first to land, and by the time the others have dropped their kids off, ours is gone. We’re in a swamp of some kind, with some mushy islands, but also plenty of water, generally one or two feet deep. Not something we’d drown in, unless some of the sediment on the bottom has the functionality of quicksand… Definitely a possibility. The weeds, growing thick, could also be an issue, and even if they don’t drown us, they’ll certainly hinder our progress. Best if we try to stay out of the water.. But that won’t be easy.

Jay gathers us all in, and begins to speak. He voices most of my thoughts, and then adds something I simply hadn’t considered. “So we’re not going to move. We’re staying right here.” 

I suppose it makes sense, but we always travel 20 or 30 miles over the course of the week. He knows what we’re thinking, and so tells us his logic. “Do you remember why we always keep on the move? It’s not because of the advantages. It’s not because we get to see more of the world. It’s because that’s what we were taught to do. Back before the teams were fully formed, when they had moved on from basic schooling to what we needed to know for this, they brainwashed us into thinking that we always had to keep moving. It’s a mental rule now- and we won’t follow it.”

I can see understanding dawning in some people’s eyes, but other faces still wear expressions of scepticism. Grackle asks, “But how will staying still be better? I mean- has it ever occurred to you that they might have a REASON for telling us to stay on the move?”

“That’s another reason why we’re doing it. We’re going to find out if they had a reason. And we’re going to see if we can use this strategy to get an advantage over the other teams.”

“How?” Meadowlark asks.

Jay grins. “We’re going to build a fortress.”

By the time the sun sets and the mosquitoes come searching for snacks, we’re all exhausted. We spent the day gathering wood- some larger, thin logs to use as stakes, along with a bunch of thin, bendy twigs to thrash together, making the walls partially impassable. Some of us suggest posting no guard- after all, we’re the only ones here- but Jay vetoes the idea. “We’ll need guards when we’re in the battle, and this is our last practice run.” So guards it is.