We finally meet these people that Mr. G has mentioned and the narrative has hinted at since at least Chapter Four.  Some commenters in the earlier chapters have suggested that other bird people seems to make Roy Ray less special, and the story might be better without them.  Do you agree or disagree?  Let me know here.

Chapter Twenty-One

BIRD PEOPLE

They called it The Nest.  Clever.

            It took up a whole level, completely surrounded by fake arches opening to a fake sky, lit with variable bulbs.  The room was shaped like a huge doughnut, stair shaft in the middle and circled by a kitchen/dining room, fitness gym, recreation room and separate quarters for each of the nest-dwellers. 

            There were eight of them, not counting Spargo (who, to Roy Ray's dismay, turned out to be a chocolate poodle with brown-speckled wings--he'd never pictured a poodle as his dream pet).  Also counting the Peruvian humming-twins, Yolanda and Maria, as two, even though they acted as one, swooping over to Roy Ray and hovering on either side with an irritating buzz.  He couldn't tell them apart, which made him instantly suspicious.  Why hadn't Mr. G ever mentioned them?

            Princess Katarina didn't say much after answering his knock; just sat with her pigeon-wings folded, watching and listening and stroking a fat white cat.

            Shirley Balco and her brother Steve sported blue jay feathers.  "Sported" was a good verb for Shirley, since she was the kind of girl who would go out for track and volleyball if she weren't avial--and basketball, if she were taller than five feet.  (They were all short and small-boned, of course--Yolanda and Maria actually midget-size.)  Shirley sprinted right over to check him out while Steve, who was playing Spike II on the couch with Nkame, barely raised a hand.

            But Nkame sprang to his feet, hawk feathers bristling.  Chan seemed equally suspicious; he pushed off the parallel bars and glided over on raven wings for a closer look.

            Finally, Gunther: a brush-cut blonde, built like a brick with a ten-foot wingspan.  The span was easy to estimate, since Gunther was face down on a mat at the time, creating a strong breeze with vigorous table-strokes.  A stroke machine, just as Mr. G said, only with full-body pushups added.  The coordination involved, plus the flashy golden-eagle wings, made Roy Ray feel like an amateur.

            "Come on, Gunther," Shirley snapped, "quit showing off and meet this kid."

            "Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Gunther finished, then flipped a backward somersault while pushing himself off the mat.  "So," he remarked, "our fearless leader finally appears."

            That statement packed more than a loaded potato.  Leader?  Fearless?  Finally?  "Were you guys . . . expecting me?"

            A variety of responses followed.  Steve shrugged, Chan smirked, Gunther sneered and Nkame tossed his handsome shaved head.  Meanwhile, Katarina beamed, Shirl nodded vigorously and the Peruvian hummingbirds sped over to him, chattering in Spanish, while each grabbed a wing and held it out like stage curtains: ta-da!

            "Oh yeah," Steve drawled.  "Ask little Katarina."

            The girl, when Roy Ray turned to look at her, just shook her head and hugged her cat.

            Shirl barged in.  "She's shy, Steve.  You know that."

            "She dream about you," giggled the twins, almost in unison.  "Una paloma blanca."

            "She has these dreams about a white dove," Shirley explained.  "Leave him alone, hummers.  Of course, the guys don't believe her."

            "We believe what we see, girl," snorted Nkame.

            "So do you believe now?"

            "That will depend," said Gunther (though with his accent it sounded like "Dot vill depand").  "I see mostly-white wings but the rest of him is shall we say unprepossessing."

            Roy Ray wouldn't even remember to look that one up.  "Don't mind Gunther," Steve offered helpfully.  "He means he thinks you're a twit, but it's nothing personal."

            Chan said something in English but his accent was so thick Roy Ray couldn't understand it.  Nkame remarked, "I would like to know this too: what did you come for?"

            "Oh!  Well, I think I'm supposed to get you out of here."

            Whatever he expected, it wasn't the mix of confusion and hostility he got.  Even Katarina started in surprise, as the twins bolted with a single "Que?" and Spargo barked, "Yap?"

            "Yeah," Roy Ray went on.  "You're going to be used for some evil purpose by the enemy and his . . . uh . . . minions if you don't get out of here."

            "The enemy!?"  Nkame demanded, with his back straight and hands on hips: "Who is this enemy?!"

            "Um . . . Dr. Lempke and . . . there's probably some more scientists . . . and Quentin.  Quentin's the boss, unless Luke is.  I've never met Luke.  I don't think."

            "And how do you come by this treasure of imprecise information?" Gunther asked sarcastically.

            "Mr. G told me.  Mr. Godwit.  You know, the coach?  Our coach?"

            Amazingly, they all looked as clueless as before.  Roy Ray was at a loss until he remembered that E. Ponymous Godwit was not the man's real name.  Maybe he'd used other names.  "You know--short legs, beard, dark eyes, hump on his back?  He trained you.  Most of you anyway; I'm not sure about the hummers."  He turned to Katarina.  "Princess, he met you when you were only six."  She scrunched up her face.  "Gunther-- those table-strokes you were doing when I came in--he taught you that."  Gunther tried to look haughty but Roy Ray could sense the perplexity underneath.  "Steve, Shirley, come on--don't you remember?"  They didn't seem to, but then Roy Ray had an inspiration. 

"Bat Boy knows him!  He can tell you!  Where is Gyorgi, anyway?  Doesn't he live here too?"

Every one of them recoiled in disgust--

Shirley: "Live here?  No way, he just stole a key and sneaks in whenever he feels like it!"

Maria and Yolanda: "Aqui!?  Loco hombre!"

Steve:  "That's one weird dude, man--"

Gunther: "Never!  Impossible!"

Nkame: "Son of demons!  We call the police on him--"

Chan:  (undecipherable again, but you get the idea)

"Okay!"  Roy Ray threw up his hands.  "All I'm saying is, Mr. G is here, in this underground Death Star thingy, and he gave me a map, and I can't believe you don't remember him, because--"

He broke off.  What broke him off was the sight of Steve crunching down on a nacho.

"What?" asked Steve, after he'd been stared at long enough.

"You've been eating the food."

"Of course I've been eating the food, dude.  What'm I supposed to eat?

Roy Ray glanced at each uncomprehending face, realizing he had a big problem.  Not only did the fake food not feed, it seemed to wipe out memories, too.  And how was he supposed to liberate people who didn't even know they were slaves? 

"Why do you think you're doing here?" he shouted, suddenly angry.  "You've been kidnapped!  Don't you even remember your mom and dad?  Don't you even know where you are?  Ever notice that the sky is fake?"  He shot up to the highest part of the domed ceiling and pounded it with his fist.  It rang with a metallic echo.  "See?  Fake!"

Nkame smiled a little ruefully.  "We know it is hard, having bumped our noggins on it whilst plying air hockey.  But what do you mean by 'fake'?"

"Do you remember going outside?"

"Sure--lots of time," Shirl spoke up.  "Every day we have free flight hour in the cave."

"But that's still in.  The cave is in.  I'm talking about really out, under the real sky, with real trees and animals and flowers and . . . stuff."

"Trees and animals and flowers," Gunther repeated.  "You mean like these?"  He waved at a garden under a tanning light.  "Or this?"  He glided over to Katarina and pulled her cat's ears, producing a snarl and a spit--from the owner, not the cat.

"Yeah, but--"  Roy Ray looked around hopelessly.  How could he explain what made real stuff real?

A sharp buzz next to his chest made him jump.  "Just a minute," he said to the group at large, while pulling the transmitter out.  "This is probably important."  Clicking the button, he turned his back and stepped away, saying, "Hi.  Are you there?"

Delphi's voice crackled.  "Finally.  I had a feeling somebody was following me, so I had to take the long way, just in case.  And the honeysuckle's gotten really thick and there's some poison oak over--"

"Del."  He didn't need a nature lesson just now.

"Okay, sorry.  Where are you?"  He told her, in very few words.  "Awesome.  Okay.  You need to get them on the roof.  Like, now.  Only make them stay down or they'll set off the motion detector."

"How do we get on the roof?"

"There's an opening at the top, a round--"

"Saw it.  Can't open it."

"Yes you can.  If you feel around the edge you'll find a--"

"Awwwk!"  That sound came from Roy Ray at the sight of the transmitter spinning in the air, and Chan springing after it.  "Hey!  That's mine!"

He made a lunge, but Gunther was holding him back.  Kicking backwards, he heard a grunt and felt the grip loosening.  Both of them leapt into the air, Roy Ray clanging his cranium on the steel roof.

Meanwhile, the transmitter had taken into its head (so to speak) to do something objects don't usually do.  It was staying just out of its pursuer's reach.  Every time Chan made a grab, it ricocheted off, as though knocked aside by clumsy fingers.  Roy Ray flew after it, closely pursued by Gunther, who tried to elbow him down. 

The three of them--or four, counting the transmitter, circled the nest at least three times, changing direction to throw each other off track, with the others yelling below--or sometimes alongside.  It was a free-for-all with more than two sides, and Roy Ray couldn't figure out who was on his--though at one point he had a vivid impression of little Katarina dragging on Gunther's wings, screaming "Let him alone!  He's the one--I dreamed it!"--with some Russian thrown in.

The end came suddenly.  Gunther reversed, and with Roy Ray at his heels, flew right into the transmitter flying the other way.  He swung his cupped right hand and caught it, slapping his left hand on top.  "HA!" he crowed, but immediately the crow turned into a yell of pain.  His hands sprang apart and the transmitter flew directly to Roy Ray, who tucked it back inside his jacket. 

Then, swooping to the top of the nearest arch, he hooked his heels.  The air was choked with down dust and the smell of sweaty feathers was sharp enough to cut.  "It bit me," Gunther snapped indignantly.

"Toldja it was mine," Roy Ray panted, not just to Gunther but to the group at large as they sprawled in exhaustion and disarray.  Several of Mr. G's patented preeners came out and went to work.

Belatedly he remembered the transmitter, now squawking against his chest.  "What's going on?" Delphi sputtered when he clicked on.

"Uh . . . I'm not sure."  He was nervously scanning the company, noticed one missing.  Chan was sidling up behind the arches.  Roy Ray snapped around and aimed the transmitter's falcon eyes at him.  "Stay right there, or I'll pin you to the wall with a laser beam!"

"Roy Ray?"  Delphi's voice sounded hesitant. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!  What was that about the plug?"

"The plug?  Oh, yeah.  If you feel all around the outside you'll find a latch."

"That's it?  No secret number code or anything?"

"No.  Might be a little rusty, though."

"So I get it open, then what?"

"I don't know yet."

"What?"   

            Gunther had begun to recover, shaking his head dizzily as he rose to his feet.  "Where . . . did you get that?" he demanded, pointing at the transmitter.

"I don't know, Roy Ray," Delphi was saying.  "Haven't you noticed they never give you the whole story?  But when you need it, you get it?"

"Where did you get that?" Gunther repeated, rising to his feet.

"I guess," Roy Ray said, uncertainly.

"Just get them to the roof.  Like, now.  Don't waste time, there's a big storm headed this way and I'm not sure how long I'll be here."  She clicked off.

"Where--" Gunther began once more.

"Somebody gave it to me," Roy Ray said.  "Got that?  He gave it to me; I didn't sneak up and grab it.  It was the same guy who trained you, and I know you remember him, or at least you remember this."  He held up the transmitter, pretty sure they wouldn't rush him again.  And now I've got instructions.  We have to get outta here, and I know how to do it.  Follow me."

He tucked the transmitter away and flew to the door.  It wasn't locked--obviously the enemy had their captives so well trained they didn't see the need.  Ha!  He'd show them.  He pulled the door wide open and swooped around to face to avials.

They were all staring at him, most of them still sprawled on the floor.  The only one who stepped forward was Katarina.  With her cat.  And Spargo.

Roy Ray sighed.  What he would do with a poodle and a dreamy little girl mystified him, but the rest of them looked like nothing but trouble anyway.  "Wait here by the door," he told her.  "I'll get the hatch open."

She smiled at him.  He filled his lungs and sailed to the hatch where, flapping awkwardly, he felt around the edge until he found a tiny lever tucked inside a hidden space in the frame.    Might be a little rusty, Delphi had said.  No kidding--it was frozen.  He struggled with it until his strength gave out, then retreated to the landing. 

The avials, now gathered at the door, bickered among themselves.  "So he knows how to get us out," sneered Gunther.  "Give it a chance," Shirl protested.  "He's just a kid!" Steve said.  Et cetera.

"Give me your preener," Katarina told Roy Ray, and when he handed it over, she quickly groomed his arch feathers, pressing out from the urophygial glands.  When she handed the preener back to him its point gleamed with oil.  "This is how we get the jars open, sometime."

He nodded and returned to the hatch, oiling first the hinge and then the lever.  After some bruised-finger fumbling he felt it give a little.  When there was enough of a crack he worked his fingers under the lid to force it open by his weight.  While he was hanging, the hatch fell open so abruptly he slid off, spiraling into the stairwell on full-span for several yards before he could stabilize.  Then he launched himself from a stair railing toward the cold gray light of the open hatch, caught the rim and pulled himself through.

On the domed roof of the plant, he glanced around.  Two shivering beams of light intersected about two feet above his head--must be the motion detector.  He lay on his belly and poked an arm back through.  "Come on."

Spargo came first, dog-paddling through the air on his sparrow wings.  He reached Roy Ray with tail wagging joyfully and licked his face as the boy caught him.  Poodles weren't so bad, he decided.  "Good boy, now stay."  He left Spargo on the surface and stuck his head back through the opening.

But it wasn't Katarina, it was Shirley sailing toward him.  Only girls?  He hoped the hummers would stay behind, at least.  Shirl stalled nicely while he backed up enough to allow her room; her wings were shorter than his but quicker.

Katarina had picked up a few pounds in captivity--her flying was clumsy and she needed help getting through the manhole.  While busy with that, Roy Ray had to admit Shirl was useful for managing Spargo, who growled at the cat.  "So how do we get out of here?" Shirley asked in a breathy way meant to hide her nervousness. 

"Wait for a signal."  His own voice sounded a little breathy, to tell the truth.  "For now, keep quiet and stay low until I come back."

"Come back?" Shirl repeated in alarm.  "Where are you going?"

He was backing away on his sweaty palms.  "It'll only be a few minutes.  I have to get somebody."

At the steepest part of the dome he gave himself to a controlled slide all the way to the rim.  The view from there made his stomach tie itself in a pretzel: this was really high.  Higher than he'd ever been in his life.  But wait--there was a ladder he hadn't noticed before.  If he could edge over to that he could figure the number of rungs down to Level five, and then ease his way over to the vent cover which, with luck, had not been replaced yet . . .

Worth a try, anyway.

(For some reason, my website editor won't let me link to the next chapters from this page.  So I'll have to direct you to the Table of Contents, where you can click on either Chapter 22 or 23 and get to the end.  Sorry for the inconvenience!)

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