Part 1 (1/2)

Night Witches.

L J Adlington.

If you liked this you'll love . . .

I never wanted to fly. That was Cousin Zoya's bright idea.

*Everybody's doing it,' she said. *I've been up five times already.'

*You're not going,' Mama told me straight off. *You're too young. What if something happens to you?'

*Nothing's going to happen to me, Mama,' I said. *Nothing ever does.'

Mama looked at Papi.

*It's far too dangerous,' he agreed quickly. *You can't even tell left from right, let alone up from down or sky from ground.'

*What did I miss? What's dangerous?' Our neighbour Pedla Rue is always scuttling over from her apartment to ours to spread gloom and gossip. Alert to an argument, she said, *Are you talking about the lift being broken again? I've reported it to Aura a dozen times today already.'

Mama folded her arms and explained about my plan to sign up for the Air Cadets.

*Flying!' snorted Pedla. *Don't let her try anything like that. It's not normal. My husband always used to say, if we'd been meant to fly we'd have wings, and then we'd be no different from wia”'

*Hus.h.!.+' we all said in one voice. You never know who's listening.

Papi and Mama quickly backtracked. *If Zoya looks after you and Aura agrees, you can fly,' they said. Anything not to go along with Pedla or her stupid, superst.i.tious husband.

Which is why I'm here, trapped in the sleek, white sh.e.l.l of a People's Number Fifty-nine Tutor Plane. I've got a parachute strapped to my rear, a control stick between my legs and an instructor yawning at my side. I've also got Zoya breathing enthusiasm down the back of my neck.

*Told you you'd love it. It's easy, isn't it, Pip?'

*Focus on the flying, Pip,' says the instructor.

I want to say My name's not Pip, it's Rain, but Cousin Zoya calls me Pipsqueak a” Pip for short a” and I don't like to make a fuss.

The instructor doesn't care what my name is. He's clearly bored out of his skull doing cadet flights in the empty skies above flat foodlands and featureless towns. I'm not that excited myself. Aura streams calm instructions into my head from the keypad at my side and everything's so smooth we might as well be in a simulator. I can't feel the air or the sun.

*This is my sixth time,' Zoya tells the instructor. *Everybody says I'm a natural. I'm not normally in the back seat. As soon as we're old enough me and Pip are going to join the Air Force and fly with Marina Furey.'

The instructor rolls his eyes. Marina Furey is Rodina's greatest and most glamorous pilot a” the first person to fly solo round the world. We're just kids in drab blue overalls.

I interrupt. *I'm getting course corrections from Aura to keep clear of the cloud that's building up ahead. Should I try a turn?'

The instructor nods. *You have control.'

I tell the plane to bank left. There's hardly any sensation of movement. I find my mind wandering. School again tomorrow. More tests. Project work's finished at least a” a Survey of Biofood Yields in the Lim Lands of West Rodina a” boring, but a big percentage of this term's grade. My bedroom's already tidy so that's one less thing to worry about, and . . .

*Keep her steady,' the instructor warns as the plane dips suddenly.

I blush. *That wasn't me . . .'

*Just a bit of turbulence. Perfectly normal. Aura says wind speed is increasing.'

The plane jolts some more. The instructor stays calm. *All right, that's enough for your first trip, Pip. I have control now.'

*You have control,' I echo, as I've been taught.

Behind us, Zoya's just started chewing on a snack bar, but her mouth drops open as she picks up a new message.

*Er, is this right? I've got reports of other planes in our sector.'

The instructor frowns. *There are no scheduled flights in . . . Na!' The plane lurches badly as something large and dark pa.s.ses over. Everything shudders. Is this normal? A hole appears in the tinted windscreen. Sunlight pokes through.

*What was that?' shouts Zoya.

The instructor is silent.

I start to panic. *I can't get action-requirements from Aura a” there's nothing . . .'

The instructor leans forward. The plane begins to dive. Why's he letting it do that? I flick a glance at him. He's got a small red spot in the centre of his forehead. The headrest of his seat is dark with blood and worse.

Dead. Shot. How?

*Go up!' Zoya screams as the ground rises to meet us. She's yanking at the instructor, trying to get at his controls, but he's too lumpy to move. I abandon the keypad and seize my control stick with both hands. Somehow we stagger into open sky. Bullets spit into the fuselage behind us.

Zoya shakes me instead of the instructor. *Someone's shooting at us! Do something, Pip! Shoot back!'

*With what?'

*I don't know, just get away from it!'

*How?'

I can't even blink. As I try to heave the plane away from the bullets all I can think is, Flying's easy after all . . . Wonder what landing's like?

A voice whispers a” Wake up.

Why move? I'm toasty warm in bed, wrapped in heavy covers, wondering whether to bother brus.h.i.+ng snow off my face.

Snow? No snow in bed.

I open my eyes. No bed, just the broken bioweave of a wrecked wing. No covers, just heavy fluff tickling my nose. Not fluff a” what's the word? Fur. This fur is stretched over sharp bones. It has a strange face with bright silver-black eyes, clouds of bad breath and teeth strung with half-chewed meat. What . . . ?

Then it comes. A memory so old it's worn almost to pieces. In the memory I'm nestled in my mother's arms staring at a picture being streamed on the screen at the end of the bed. *Look, Rain, look what sort of monsters are waiting to eat girls who go wandering off into the woods. Be good, and they won't get you.'

Wolf!

I go utterly rigid with shock. The wolf gives a low growl.