Un Bilical

First published in Gulp!, Issue One, 2019

“…vulnerable after they have left the nest, but before they can fly, though once fledged their chances of survival increase dramatically.”

He has my eyes and I have his. Hers are a little different, a touch paler maybe. Just this shy of identical yet worlds away from mine.

We have no names here. We never did. Beneath the overpass in the fragile, crackling dark. I watch him standing close to her. The others surround us, watching and waiting for something, maybe a signal. There’s a strange feeling that something should be happening.

He starts first. We’ve spoken about it in whispers so often before.

“Why here though?” he asks as he sheds his uniform, same as everybody else’s except for the number over his heart. Not even close to mine.

“Was the first place I could think of,” I say. Moonseed shimmers over the surface of the quarry. There are no boats or beaches. I thought there might be sand.

“It’s so dark down here,” he says, shivering half-nude. I don’t think he’s ever seen natural light like this. This is only my second time.

She strips down to her underthings. He is already naked. All the others are still fully clothed. There’s a whole flock of them staring wide-eyed at their twins, triplets, sextuplets. Whatever we can call ourselves now.

I recognise my fear in their faces. The familiar strain and twitch of their jaws. Feel the dryness parch their lips as they’re licked wet again. We have only ever known one language.

I take off my clothes, nodding at the others. There is some reluctance but they’ve trusted me this far. They feel my pulse purring through theirs.

I point at the water below. “Now jump in.”

It’s not high up by any account. Only a short fall into the water. I imagine it to be deep: colder than any communal shower they’ve had before. They stand stiff.

“Jump,” I say again.             

His foot is the first to move. Kicks out in front of him in spasm. I can almost feel it reverberate through mine. Gooseflesh rises in lumps over my arms and shoulders.

He arches into the air. I hear the splash but do not see him break the surface. I peer down as the aftermath ripples and gushes and has swallowed him whole. Then he’s spat out, floating. Somehow he has not drowned.

She follows, arms outstretched at either side. Her body is so similar to mine. This is as close to flying as she’s ever going to get. As we are ever going to get.

The others remain still. I can feel their want. Channel their need through the cool air. A breeze picks up and I can almost hear canvas sails billowing with friction. I can taste their momentum.

I wonder if any of us will bleed tonight, who will be the first?

I jump headlong. Some gasp. A few shout or cheer. One or two seem to clap. Maybe it’s instinctual. They don’t know what they are celebrating yet but need to fill the silence with sound.

I breach the surface. Come up gulping for air. Out of breath. Yet full of it.

Then I see them falling, flailing naked around me like fledglings from a nest, pulled by nature or something else into first flight.