* * *
Aaron watched Kit peer around in wonder. As best he knew, she had never been to lowlands on this side of the pass before, had hardly been anywhere, so Aaron knew she had never seen trees as tall as these. The trees surrounding them rose far above their heads, stretching upwards two hundred feet and more. Giant branches formed an almost impenetrable canopy overhead.
Birds called challenges to this intrusion. The air smelled of damp earth and sharp wood. Leaves stirred, rustling in the overhead breeze, and yet not a breath of air moved where Aaron stood.
"This is so--so beautiful," Kit said. She spun slowly in a half circle, a delicate dancer in paradise. Watching, Aaron reflected that three months earlier he would have spent an eternity happily watching her at a moment like this. Now he only felt impatience.
Aaron looked past her and saw the view that captured her. In his heart he knew what she felt, but none of it affected him. It was nature. Surrounding them were birds and trees and grass and flowers. All this was a celebration of life, but he had very little life left inside him.
"Which way do we go?"
Kit sighed sadly. "Aaron, sometimes you have to live with the moment. Life does go on." She pointed north by northwest. "About five hundred plus miles that way. It's probably closer to six hundred."
Pressing his lips together, Aaron looked skyward. One small opening existed through the leaves, giving him one tiny window to the sky. Hopefully, it was enough.
He pulled Kit along the path until they stood directly beneath the opening. From here the patch of sky looked like it was less than five feet across. Clouds floated overhead. Grim satisfaction briefly coursed through him.
"Hang onto me."
Flicker
Kit gasped when she found herself among the clouds, falling through the sky. Treetops rushed at them, hungry wooden arms reaching for their bodies, reaching to rip them from the air. Aaron looked far ahead, saw an edge of floating mist. He closed his eyes.
Flicker
Miles away. Aaron breathed in mist from the cloud's edge while white fingers trailed past them. After clearing the clouds they fell free beneath. Mouth open in a soundless cry, Kit clung to him tightly enough to almost crack his ribs. When Aaron caught a glimpse of her face he saw that her eyes were wild. After sucking in a breath of frigid air that burned his throat, Aaron caught sight of a cloud at the far edge of his vision. Focusing on a line of white clouds touched along the edges by a haze of gray, he closed his eyes when their falling bodies were still sixty feet away from the trees.
Flicker
And then they began their fall once again.
Flicker
And again.
They traveled more than a hundred miles in the next few minutes. Aaron fixed his eyes ahead and upward, looking for a new spot to transfer to. His mind kept a reserve site handy as a backup. If an attempt to transfer failed, he would immediately send them back to the Manor.
More than five miles passed with each transfer. He thought he could do much better but he did not want to take the chance. In order to transfer, he needed some detail, and he was not sure if he could gather enough details from a further distance, not with the time limits their falling placed upon him, not if he cared to have enough time for a second attempt if the first one failed.
"More to our left!" Kit called out. The wind snatched her voice from his ears. "We're going too far north."
Aaron transferred two more times before he let his gaze drift in the direction her pointing hand indicated. This type of travel took a great deal of concentration.
"Better?"
"Much." Her voice sounded less panicked. "This is doing horrible things to my stomach."
Above their heads, wispy threads of cloud were pulled apart and recombined by the wind. He transferred straight up.
Kit let loose a gasp.
Below them lay ranges of white mountains with peaks and valleys half a mile and more deep. Occasional gaps showed small spots of green. Cold wind bit cruelly at Aaron's skin. Up this high the air was almost too thin to breathe. Kit struggled momentarily and then stopped.
Aaron looked at the awning of hazy mist overhead. The upper layer of clouds were thin and ill defined. He hoped they were enough of a landmark to provide him with bearings. When they were this high up, he had a longer period before he had to transfer. On the other hand, if he ultimately failed, he and Kit were sure to hit much harder.
"Where are we?" Kit shouted. She seemed calmer. Maybe she was getting used to this. Gods, he hoped so. Maybe he should have got her drunk first. It worked for the airlines.
"Above the first layer of clouds. This gives me more time to get a fix on our next transfer point."
"I never knew clouds looked like this from up high. They look strange, and it's so cold that I think my lungs are going to freeze." Kit raised a glove covered hand and pointed. "More in that direction."
No, Aaron thought, she would never have seen a sight like this. Kit was a woman of the flat land. She dealt with cattle and farms on the rolling hills and flat plains. Because of this, she had never been high in the mountains on a low clouded day.
They fell into a valley formed by the lower clouds. A wall of white passed beside and above them, while a long stretch of clear air was before them.
Flicker
This time they traveled over fifteen miles. The air was once again cold and thin. Shivering in his arms, Kit's pointing hand adjusted its aim. He was still too far north.
Flicker
Three transfers later, she lowered her arm.
"Better."
During the next two hours she corrected him every fifth or sixth time he jumped them across the sky. When she only corrected him every third jump Aaron knew they were close so he traveled less distance with each transfer. He zigzagged across the sky while Kit attempted to triangulate on Beech. Several transfers later she jerked on his arm.
"We can't be more than twenty miles from Beech. Can we take a rest? I'm freezing."
"I have to find someplace to bring us to land," Aaron called back. "Don't panic when we keep falling."
More than half a minute passed before they exited out of the bottom of the clouds.
Beneath them, the land had changed while they flew. They had left the tree lined slopes of the mountains behind long ago. Now, they fell towards open hills. Lakes and rivers stretched out in front of Aaron, and he could see the occasional stand of ten or a hundred trees. Far behind them, the mountains were a thin blue and black line. Feeling slightly apprehensive, Aaron cast his eyes on the ground they fell towards. They were lower than he felt comfortable with and he had not yet decided where their last transfer would be. Then the dead body of a grazer caught his eyes. The animal was huge. Antlers flattened the grass around the body. He waited until they were less than thirty feet from the ground before deciding, feeling distracted because Kit began screeching in his ear. At the last second, he changed his mind.
Flicker
"Stop it! Stop it!" Kit's shrilly yelled. Green and brown spread before them.
Flicker
And then they dropped the last six inches. Aaron's knees protested when he landed. His arms released Kit, and she fell from him. Falling into water, he sank deep beneath the surface and rose, sputtering, with dark algae clinging to his face. Brown and green algae, smelling of rot, sucked into his nose when he tried to breathe.
"If you think you can get your jollies by--" Kit began when her head broke the surface of the water.
Aaron raised a hand. "I had to be close enough to make out all the details, unless you wanted me to land with my feet buried a foot deep into the ground. Truthfully, I'm not sure exactly how that would have worked out. I don't know if the earth would have made room for me, or if it would have been displaced, or if there would have been an explosion when too small a space tried to hold too many atoms. Since I really don't care to discover the answer through experimentation, I decided that a water landing seemed preferable."
Kit
looked confused. "Sometimes I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about. By the Lady, it's cold. I hope you don't mind, but I don't think I can take much more of this today." Burying her chin into the water, she bulled her way to shore. Shrugging, Aaron followed suit. The water was walking deep for her, but he had to swim when the floating algae rose over his nose. Kit was that much taller.
By the time she reached the shoreline, her mood had equalized. She waited for him to arrive, held out a hand, and pulled him free of the lake. Apparently, there was no gentle slope at the shoreline. The water was two feet deep at the edge.
"Just a suggestion, Aaron. Maybe you should look for a cleaner lake the next time you decide to land. This one suffers from terminal growth." Slime and other things clung to Kit's hair and clothes. Something green and slippery and alive clung to her cheek. "We are both in need of clean clothes and a bath."
Aaron shivered. Exhaustion had caught up with him again. He was cold and wet and filthy. Unfortunately, he was also weak and that was bad because Beech was near. Kit could easily find the man but that did not mean they would surprise him. Beech was a Talent Master. Possibly, he knew exactly where Aaron was. Might be heading their way, and that meant that Aaron could be fighting Beech within minutes. The way he felt right now, it would be one very short fight.
No. This was not the time to put matters right. Tomorrow would be better, or the next day.
"Yeah," he agreed while looking around to get his bearings. "Clean clothes."
With a twist of Talent he took them to the Manor. Once she assured herself that they had arrived in one piece, Kit immediately chased him outside to clean himself up while she used the Manor's washroom. By the time he finished getting the slime off himself, peeling off green slugs and other things he did not care to think about, and then changed into fresh clothes, Kit had sandwiches set out.
Aaron felt flat out dead tired. Eating slowly, he let the food and the warmth suffuse his flesh. It had been a difficult day, but worth the effort because they had found near success. Unless Beech moved a substantial distance in the next couple days, he was Aaron's.
After finishing her sandwich, Kit pushed away from the table. "Just leave the dishes where they are. We both need our rest tonight."
And then she walked off to her separate room.
Aaron left the table and went to his own room. Spare and utilitarian, it was perfect for the small amount of time he spent living on the Manor grounds. He opened the door, walked in, and settled down on the bed. Once there, he took time to carefully check his weapons. Still clean and ready, they would serve.
He felt totally dead-beat-wanting-to-melt- into-the-floor exhausted. Although he had transferred less often than he had a few days before, his energy had not had time to fully recover between transfers. No, he had no choice but to rest another day or two before taking on Beech. The man was mean and tough, hard to face at the best of times. It would not pay to go after him while Aaron was tired.
Aaron wearily stripped off his clothes and dropped them in a corner. They were dirty and stained, but that dirt would help as camouflage if he had to scramble around on the ground. He would wear them again in the morning.
He lay down. His arms and legs ached, probably from holding them awkwardly while he fell.
Sleep came hard, but then sleep always came hard since the burning. Mind churning, Aaron counted sheep in his head, gave up on them, and switched over to counting the ways he would kill Beech. His mind continued racing, bringing forth visions of Beech crucified on a long stake, of Beech slowly roasting over a fire, of Beech begging for mercy while he knelt at Aaron's feet. Finally, just as the sun started to rise and his brain settled into a steady pattern, sleep found him. But just before he drifted off, Sarah came to him. Wild eyed, hair streaming behind her, she clenched Ernest in one arm. Eyes set with determination, her Winchester Model 12 dangled from the other. Sarah's was the face of a warrior who had survived dozens of battles. It was the face of a mother who would do what it took to save her child. It was the face of vengeance and grim purpose, and it was a face speaking of loss. Sarah's face swirled before him, and then he watched her die, watched her burn in the flames.
Aaron's mind clenched up, and then he saw Sarah in a series of still shots. He saw her rounding the corner--flash--ducking down--flash--screaming as fire burst around her--screaming while Ernest burned and her flesh charred--
"Aaron."
Throwing back his head, Beech laughed with derisive humor. He rose, strong and whole, climbing high on a long column of flame. The store shuddered around Aaron, screeching and groaning as boards ripped and nails tore free.
"Aaron!"
Aaron cowered before the giant figure. Laughing uproariously, the Wagon Mater pulled puppets of Eric and the Gargoyle from his pockets. He set them on his shoulders where they grinned and leered at Aaron. The Gargoyle held a red something in her hand. She raised it to her mouth and took a deliberate bite. Blood dribbled down her chin, streamed down her chest, covering her bared breasts and large belly. Eric laughed and held the naked corpse of a woman before him. Her head lolled loosely on her neck. Eric draped the dead woman across Beech's shoulder and climbed on top of her naked body. Suddenly, Eric's clothes were gone, and he writhed on top of the woman, his eyes fastened hungrily on Aaron. Eric's discarded clothes tumbled miles to the ground and round objects fell from their pockets. The objects fell in an endless stream, fell quicker than the fluttering clothes until they smashed into the ground. Bone fragments flew like shrapnel as skulls shattered on granite hard earth. One skull fell directly at Aaron. Reaching up with his hands, he caught it. Black empty eyes stared from a white skull's sockets. The jaw dropped open.
"You could have stopped him," the skull accused, and then it crumbled in his hands.
"Aaron!"
Other skulls fell, a cascade of them, an endless stream, and try as he could, Aaron did not catch them all. He tried to save them, tried to be there for everyone, for everybody. He caught some few and set the saved skulls down gently, but then in his attempt to save another falling skull, he trampled and broke those he had saved earlier.
"Aaron!"
When he broke their fall some of the skulls spoke to him. Others screamed, and many yelled accusations. Dead Guard demanded the reason why he had handed Beech the sword that increased his knowledge and power. Staring at him with their cracked and bare skulls, bleeding fresh blood, they accused him of not stopping the murder--
"AARON!!!"
Breath ripping in out of his lungs like the last gasps of a wind broke horse, he started awake to find Kit leaning over him. She wiped at sweat streaming down her face and loosened her frown. "You were screaming."
"We have to go. We have to go now." Throat raw, Aaron pushed her away, sat up and then grabbed the bedstead because the entire world swayed. Finally, after the world's spinning slowed, he stood and reached for his clothing.
"That wasn't our plan," Kit protested. "You promised to rest first. Aaron, look at you. You look closer to dead than you do alive."
Aaron jerked his pants over his legs, fastened his snap, pulled angrily at his zipper, and then bent to gather his boots.
"I've been thinking," he said as he pulled his boots on. "It takes too long to load a shotgun. I need to bring along at least four extras. If they are preloaded and carefully placed, I can easily reach them if I have need."
"Aaron!"
Purposefully ignoring her protest, he pushed his way past her. His eyes burned, but they did not burn half so fiercely as the memories in his brain. They pounded inside him, hammering for attention, demanding. He felt like his head would explode. Thoughts churned and grew until they wanted to shatter his bone to escape their prison. Pictures of falling skulls haunted.
All his guns were stored in one of the outbuildings. Steel and gunpowder, they called to him, promised him, so he tramped his way to the building, ignoring Kit at his heels, and unlocked the door. It swung open, giving Aaron a clear vie
w of his private stash. Handguns, rifles, shotguns, he even had C4 explosives, but there would be no use for that in this battle. No, he wanted the shotguns, and they were stored in several long boxes along the right hand wall. After prying open the lids on three separate boxes, he collected the shotguns he wanted and headed back to the Manor House.
Back in his room, he pulled the shells from his shooting vest and loaded all the shotguns. Though each of the guns he had brought with him normally held five shells, he managed to load them with six shells by adding an extra to the chamber. Scowling, he made sure that the first shell in each gun had his blood on it. All the extra shells were returned to his shooting vest. He might need them later, though it was not likely. If matters weren't complete before he needed to reload, he would probably be dead.
One thing he had learned from the militia. You should never fight the other man's battle. Never fight by the other man's rules. Instead, a soldier should choose his ground, pick his time, and fight to win. Aaron hoped his training was better than Beech's.
He gathered the shotguns, transferred to the slime pond, and studied the terrain. The land was open and flat here. Although the weeds were not high enough to hide a man, they would hide a shotgun. All in all, Aaron liked this place. There were no innocents here and that was good because he was damn good and tired of innocent people dying on his behalf.
A small scrub oak grew close by. Since it was the only tree in the immediate area it represented an obvious landmark.
Aaron laid two shotguns on the ground near the tree, and then tore weeds loose and laid them on top of his weapons. If Beech noticed anything he would know the weeds hid something. He would not know that the something was firearms, and that was all Aaron could ask.
Another shotgun found a home behind a small boulder. He left his fourth gun in the weeds at the edge of the pond where a small stream left the lake. He would remember these places since remembering locations was a part of his Talent.
His fifth gun returned with him to the Manor.
Kit waited for him. "Do you insist on doing this now?"
Answering with a scowl, Aaron stepped forward and grabbed her.
Flicker
Kit's boots an inch deep in mud, they stood beside the pond.
"Which way?" Aaron demanded. He hoped to hell that Beech had not moved since the previous night. After all, the man was a traveler too. He could be five hundred miles from here by now.
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"Which way?"
She pointed.
Flicker
"Now where?"
"He's a little more off to the right," Kit said. "Not more than ten miles from here."
Three more jumps placed Aaron within two miles of his prey.
And then Aaron made Kit lay down in the weeds and took his place beside her. Kit's Talent did not need her eyes. She did not need to see ahead to know where the person she sought was located, and Aaron did not plan on traveling far. He needed only to peer over the weeds to acquire a close landing point. That being the case, he saw no reason to risk being seen.
Four more jumps moved them to within half a mile, close enough to smell smoke from the cook fires and hear children yell as they played.
Kit pointed toward the noise. "If you can't find Beech from here, we got no business even thinking of fighting him. What do we do now?"
Aaron pulled her to him, pressed his lips to hers; felt them compact against her teeth. She jerked her head back.
"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed. Even startled, Kit kept her voice low.
"Our last kiss," Aaron whispered. "Kit, I'm sorry things aren't better between us."
"It's not your fault. I just don't know how to love men." She shook her head angrily and fingered her knife. "That has nothing to do with this. We have a man to kill."
"I can still be sorry." Aaron looked into her eyes and felt sad. Some part of him really did love her. Somehow, a part of her was embedded onto a shred of his old self. He did not want to lose her, too, but that was what would happen. It was inevitable.
Gods, he was tired of losing people. He was bone deep achingly, screw it all tired. "Goodbye, Kit."
Flicker