"Wings" by Anezka Sero

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Wings

Anezka Sero

They were in an antiques shop that sold old things from Earth, nestled deep in alleyways of the immigrants’ slum.

The shelves and cupboards of the shop were stuffed with trinkets that seemed mysterious and alien to the children’s eyes; scuba diving suits with rubber legs and brass breathing masks, elegantly painted hairpins that twinkled under the light, cassette tapes with strange names written on them in faded pen and hat stands; but it was the mirror that caught Alis’s eye.

She pulled Little Ben aside, making him drop the rusty toy soldiers he’d picked up from the bookshelf and showed it to him; a pale, crystal clear crescent of glass framed with black iron and a long handle covered with rubies and strange flowers.

‘They’re cracked,’ he said to her, pointing to the stones, ‘and probably fake,’ but Alis shook her head.

‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful! And it’s real. A real mirror, not a hologram lens. Can you take it?’ She looked at him beseechingly, with shiny eyes.

Little Ben eyed the shopkeeper nervously. The tall, hooded man in the threadbare green suit and old, battered cape hadn’t moved since they’d walked in off the street, escaping the rain and sudden cold. He was still sitting there on the chair in the corner, the tip of his old fashioned musketeer’s hat pulled down low over his face, puffing quietly on steam pipe that gave off a mysterious purple smoke and smelled faintly of larlek root.

‘I don’t know,’ Little Ben said. ‘I think he’s watching us.’

The shopkeeper touched the edge of his hat as if he’d heard them, and put down the book he was holding in his hand.

The hair on the back of Little Ben’s neck raised.  A sudden draught breezed through the shop, snuffing out the candle sitting on the windowsill.

Little Ben walked over to a washing stand and inspected a periscope with a strange price tag attached to it then wandered back to Alis.

She hadn’t moved. She stood there, frozen like statue, eyes glued to the mirror.

‘Come on, Alis,’ he moaned. ‘This is boring. Want to go to the cinema? It’s only Betty on the door.’

He touched Alis’s hand but she snatched it back savagely.

‘You go,’ she said, her eyes fixed intently on the glass. ‘I’ll find you later.’

‘No way,’ Little Ben said. ‘You think I’m gonna leave you alone with him?’

He jerked his head over to where the shopkeeper was standing but Alis barely looked at him.

Little Ben stepped on one foot and then the other, and thought.

‘Here,’ he said suddenly, putting his hand in the pocket of his coat and bringing out a blue data chip, as well as a thimble and piece of carbon wire. ‘I’ve got enough credit for a cup of tea, and maybe even a scone. Want to go to the café?’

Alis touched the mirror reverently, stroking the mirror with a strange look on her face.

‘I think…I want to be alone here for a while,’ she said at last. ‘You go. I’ll come and find you later.’

‘Fine,’ said Little Ben sulkily. He went outside onto the street but didn’t go far, watching Alis carefully through the glass. Ten minutes passed, then twenty and he shrugged his coat on and walked back inside.

‘It’s so pretty,’ Alis whispered dreamily when he touched her on the shoulder. ‘I can’t stop looking at it. It makes my eyes look funny; like silver. It’s like I’m a fairy. Did I ever tell you about those? They’re creatures out of the old storybooks and they play tricks on you.’

She smiled at him strangely and twisted her lips in a way he hadn’t seen before and picked the mirror up. Then she wrapped her fingers around the edge of the handle and pulled it.

‘It’s heavy,’ she said. ‘I think it’s stuck to the books. Should we ask him to help us?’ Alis looked over to the man, who seemed to be smoking faster now, the purple smoke from his pipe drifting high towards the ceiling, making strange shapes that twisted and unfurled like snakes.

Little Ben’s stomach felt cold now, like he’d swallowed a rock.

‘’I think we should go,’ he said.

‘Why?’ Alis looked at him with surprise but she let Little Ben lead her towards the door.

The shopkeeper looked up as they walked past, fixing his one good eye on Alis.

‘Bye, dear,’ he said. His voice was soft and dry, like crumpled up paper. ‘We’ll still be open when you come back from the pictures. Do you want this bag of lollies to take in with you?’

Alis’s eyes widened. ‘Real lollies?’

The shopkeeper smiled. ‘Fairy lollies,’ he said. ‘Made by real fairies. Sherbet lemons, rainbow starbeams and ices.’ He rubbed his hands together, folding them under the long stained face cuffs that frothed from his jacket and placed them on the table, then took out a paper bag from the desk and handed them to her. Alis took them before Little Ben had a chance to stop her and stuffed them in her pocket and smiled at him.

‘Thanks,’ she said hesitantly. ‘How - how much is it for that mirror?’ She pointed, but the shopkeeper just smiled.

             ‘For you, my little fairy child,’ he whispered, ‘absolutely nothing.’

‘You shouldn’t take lollies from strangers,’ Little Ben told her once they’d left. They were walking down Shaftesbury Lane, circling the old territories, the wintery sun shining now on the backs of their neck. The sounds of normal day traffic; the bleeting of hovercabs and screech of metal gates made Little Ben feel better, pushing away the strangeness of the shop.

‘They could be filled with poison.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Alis told him, laughing gaily now, her face once again carefree and mischievous. A strand of dirty blond hair fell over her forehead. When she moved, skipping over a rubbish bin, two shadows flitted across her back, wing shaped.

Little Ben went touch them but she slapped his hand away playfully.

‘You worry too much,’ she said. ‘He was just a nice old man. I think he was even from Earth. And did you hear him? He said it was free! And you made us go. Silly Ben.’ She wagged her finger at him, looking only half annoyed. ‘Well, I’ll pop back there after the movies and pick it up. I’ll even get one of those soldiers for you.’

Little Ben smiled but didn’t say anything. He was relieved that she was talking normally again but he had no intention of going back there.  He planned ways to distract her as they rounded the walkway that lead out of the slums and onto the freeway that trickled into the city.  Maybe they could break in to the raptor show that had just come into down. He’d met a techie last Tuesday, when he was fossicking for quartz, who said he could smuggle them in. They had real models there, dusted off from the Corelon Wars. Alis would like that.

They walked for a while, skirting the service lanes and bridges and climbed the tower leading to the cinema.

             Little Ben led Alis up the lifts that shunted and steamed and past Betty, who was snoring in the ticket office, a bottle of diesel sitting beside her computer. There was hardly anyone in the theatre so they got the best seats up at the back, right near the exit to the fire steps, just in case.

Little Ben pressed the button that made the chairs elevate with a hiss and pulled out a pork pie from his pocket.

‘Look what I’ve got,’ he said to Alis with a grin. He broke off  half and gave her the biggest piece.

‘Ooh.’ Alis’s eyes widened. ‘Where did you get that?’

‘Before,’ he boasted proudly. ‘While you were looking at the nail polish, in the junction.’

She smiled at him. ‘Clever,’ she said. But she didn’t take it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked. ‘I can heat it up if you want.’ He looked around the theatre. ‘There’s a radiator outside in the hall.’

             ‘You have it,’ Alis said. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘Really? But we didn’t have dinner last night.’ Little Ben looked at her with concern. Her eyes were still shining but her face was pale and her skin looked clammy. Her hair hung around her face in greasy strands, curling down onto her neck.

‘You don’t look good, Alis,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’re coming down with a cold. Did you wipe the cable last night when you jacked in?’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure.’

Little Ben took his jumper off and handed it to her, trying to force down the panic rising in his throat. He should never have taken her to that place, no matter how bad she needed the juice.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked. ‘Do you have any pains in your stomach? Blurry eyes?’

‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe some water..’

‘I’ll go with you,’ Little Ben said immediately.

‘No, it’s ok.’ Alis brushed away his suggestion with a drowsy wave of her fingers. ‘I want to be on my own…woman’s things..’

Little Ben’s cheeks went red. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Ok. Well, I’ll wait for you outside the door. Come on.’

‘But you’ll miss the movie,’ she whispered. ‘It’s a good one. Chronicles of Zelon, the one you wanted to see. Stay here and mind our seats. We’re about to transform.’

Alis looked tired. Tired, and drawn.

The lights went out, casting a long shadows against the backs of the chairs. With soft whir, the holo projector started up, splattering a stream of 3D images on the screen that rose quickly in the air and positioned themselves around the room, growing steadily until they were surrounded by circle of pine trees and a cascading waterfall.

‘There’s hardly anyone here,’ Little Ben said. ‘Come on. I’m coming with you.’

Alis put out her finger to touch a glowing purple parrot that flew across the opening credits then got up and walked down the narrow passageway towards the exit, stumbling when she got to the door. Little Ben picked up the bag of lollies she dropped and put them in his pocket, and wrapped the arms of his jumper around her neck.

They followed the sign to the toilets, avoiding the cleaning robot that whirred silently past them, pushing a trolley laden with sponges and mops.

Alis stopped outside the ladies door and gave him a small smile with lips that were turning blue with cold.

‘I need to look at the mirror again,’ she said. Her face looked wild now; hunted and crazed. ‘Just one more time.’

‘No,’ Little Ben said. His heart hammered in his chest. ‘You looked at it plenty. Why do you need to look at it again? Alis, you’re scaring me…I think you’re sick. Really sick.’

Alis looked down, and played with the cuffs of Little Ben’s jumper.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think – I think the fairies are calling me.’

‘They’re not,’ Little Ben said. ‘It’s just a trick. Fairies belong in books; not in mirrors.’

‘Do they?’ Alis looked lost for a moment, then coughed. ‘I’ve got to go to the toilet,’ she said suddenly. ‘Wait for me? Don’t go to the other side.’

Little Ben nodded, wondering what she meant.

‘I’ll be right here,’ he said.

Alis slipped the jumper over her head and flittered through the door. Her eyes were glassy, like round marbles that had the colour sucked out of them.

Little Ben’s heart twisted but he smiled and let her go. She did look sick, he decided. He would take her to a doctor when she came out, no matter what she said. Identification or no identification, he couldn’t risk her catching an infection. He’d just have to make up some elaborate story, maybe say the brothers and sisters one again, to stop them calling the police.

Little Ben waited.

He waited for two minutes, then two more. A mouse scurried past him, carrying a piece of popcorn in its tail. Little Ben watched him for a while, and then read all the signs on the wall advertising new films and the highlights of the paper that was lying on the floor. After he’d done all of that, he knocked softly on the door.

‘Alis.’ he called. ‘Alis, are you in there?’

There was no answer.

Little Ben pushed the door open and walked inside. The bathroom was small, with one toilet and a washing basin and lamp which threw a deep red light over the files and floor.

The lock on the toilet door read ‘vacant’.

Little Ben frowned.

‘Alis,’ he said. ‘I’m going to come in, ok? So if you’re sitting there with your pants down, now’s the time to say something.’

The taps dripped slowly in reply.

‘You’ve been warned,’ he said and laughed in an unconvincing way, then pushed open the door with his foot.

Rain pattered through a tiny glass portal that had been pushed aside.

He froze.

She was gone.

Little Ben felt something suddenly squirm in his jacket. Numbly, he put his hand into his pocket and drew out the paper bag containing Alis’s lollies. He picked the golden sticker off, untwisted the plastic tie and looked inside.

Hundreds of butterflies crawled inside the bag; their wings torn clean off. Their tiny oily black bodies glistened as they twisted wetly around each other, curling their tails in pain.

The blood drained from Little Ben’s face, then he was running, flying out the door and back through the theatre, taking the steps two at a time, running towards the shop.

‘Alis,’ he shouted as he ran, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear him. Little Ben leapt out onto the street, narrowly avoiding a cab that flew around the corner. He tore across the pavement, weaving in and out of throngs of people, not caring who he knocked into.

He leapt across the fence, clawing his way up and over, dropping ankle deep into the dirt. He ran through the slums without stopping, reaching the alleyways where all the shops were.

He saw the bar and the taxidermist that was close to the antique store and skidded to a stop, almost crying with frustration as the shop face eluded him, but then he saw it, sandwiched between a smoking shop and the barber’s shop.

The dusty glass looked back at him, cold and unpenetratable. The piece of card had been flipped over to read closed, but he knocked anyway, as loud as he could, his knuckles smarting against the glass.

‘Alis!’ he shouted. ‘Alis, I know you’re in there, looking at the mirror. It’s ok - just let me in!’

There was no reply except for the lonely sound of a street cleaner driving by. Someone outside the pub coughed and spat on the ground, muttering angrily.

Little Ben knocked again, even louder this time. Then, with a desperation that tore through his throat and lungs like fire, he picked up a sign post that was lying twisted on the street and swung it hard over his head.

It connected with the doorknob right where he wanted it and the entire thing splintered open, falling to the ground. Little Ben kicked the door open and walked inside, the sign post still in his hands.

The dust cleared and Little Ben stared.

The entire shop was empty; swept clean as if by ghosts, the wooden floorboards smooth and dusty. It looked like nothing had been there in the last twenty years.

Alis’s hair clip lay on the floor, sparkling quietly in the dust, ruby red with an emerald jewel.

Next to it was a note, scrawled on a piece of torn newspaper. Little Ben picked it up, hands shaking, and read the words written on it.

He took my wings.