Death of Innocence - 1. Death of Innocence

Phineas' fingers ran along his coveralls where the silver wings rested against his skin, attached to the inside of his clothing. They weren't his wings, his father had earned them, but Phineas had worn them from the time he was small. He still remembered the day he first wore them. A man had come to his house and his mama had sent him outside to play. When he was allowed to come back in, his mama looked like she had been crying and the big man who had been dressed in a uniform like the one his papa had worn was sitting in the chair his papa favored when he was home. The man smiled at him, but the smile did not reach his eyes. Then he beckoned Phineas closer. Phineas had looked at his mama, who nodded. The man held the silver wings in his hand.

"We promised your father we would do this. He wanted you to wear them, to remember him, and he wants you to earn your own pair one day when you are big and strong like your father was, you understand?"

Phineas nodded, although he didn't understand much other than the shiny wings belonged on papa's uniform. It was papa's not his. He still didn't understand when people started coming to see his mama. Then they had to move. A new family needed their house. When they had found a new place to live he asked his mama how papa would know where to find them. Mama took him outside and pointed upward to the stars. "Papa is up there. He knows we are here. Be a good boy and one day you will be like your papa."

Twenty years had passed since that day. Twenty years of hearing people tell him how much he was growing up to be like his papa: how he looked like him, how he talked like him, how he walked like him. Phineas tried to change his mannerisms, but they were his behaviors, not learned behaviors. Besides, he reasoned, how can a person learn behaviors from a person they barely knew? In the ensuing years, Phineas had decided he did not want to be like the man who never came home again. However, not wanting to be like him did not make Phineas stop wearing the silver wings, especially on days like today.

He stood ready with the others. There were fewer of them this trip. They were all dressed identically in fire retardant gear with over-large packs strapped to their bodies by five-point harnesses. Phineas reached down and adjusted the strap between his legs. It felt too tight, which meant it was properly adjusted.

Phineas was frightened that something would go wrong. His father had been a man who jumped and died. It was not what Phineas wanted to be, but new laws required all young men must serve, thus Phineas served. He had been told his father was fearless, but standing here Phineas could not believe that. He would not believe that. Not when the fear was gnawing at his insides here and now. His father had to have been made of stone to not feel it.

The door opened. The drop zone was visible with the special goggles they all wore. They could see the fire line too. It roared its rage at them as the first of three gear drops were tossed out the door attached to a lead line. The ratchet pulled the lines back inside as the jumpers prepared. The plane banked and turned. It was time. They formed into a rough line and shuffled forward. The first one dropped into the night sky and Phineas shuffled two steps forward. Three more bodies to go, shuffle, two, shuffle, one, shuffle, red light, green light…

Phineas dove through the air, not so much flying as cutting through the ocean of air to reach his destination all the quicker. His eyes were focused on the strobes that had been attached to the gearboxes. Inside his goggles the altimeter readings ticked at a steady pace. Behind him, a blue flash lit the night sky momentarily, putting Phineas and the other jumpers in stark relief against the night sky. For some reason that silly song his best friend used to play kept bouncing around his head…

"It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!

It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!

Tall, blonde, dark and lean

Rough and tough and strong and mean…"

Phineas couldn't help but to smile at the memory, mentally singing along as the numbers in his goggles spun strangely. He felt his chute deploy unexpectedly, jerking him hard as he had not yet turned. His radio squawked, squelched static, and squawked again. Phineas was busy making sure his canopy opened properly, scanning the forest for the drop zone that he could no longer see due to the thick smoke, and watching the forest fire that suddenly seemed larger than before. He did not have time to mess with the radio. At least not yet.

On the ground Phineas went to work, steadily and methodically performing each task as if it were the one that might decide if he would live or die. The readouts in the goggles were not making much sense, according to the altimeter; he was still falling through the atmosphere. The temperature gauge seemed to be working though, and on the ground, that was the important gauge.

He had searched for the gear pack that he was supposed to make use of, but no strobe could be seen. So Phineas did the next best thing and used his personal gear to get the job done. Clearing brush under normal circumstances was backbreaking work. However when there was a fire headed in your direction, backbreaking did not even begin to describe it. Dawn was breaking over the far ridgeline when Phineas decided to take five, drink some water, and check in with HQ. His radio squelched, squawked, and emitted a sound that Phineas had never heard before, but what it didn't do was work. Grumbling, Phineas peeled off the upper half of his coveralls to get to the inner pocket where he kept his ID and a few other important things, like his cell phone.

Phineas frowned at the words across the screen, 'no network coverage'. What the dickens did that mean? He asked himself as he put the phone back in his pocket and shrugged the coveralls back on. While he downed half the bottle of water he watched the skylines. The planes should be up and running by now, dumping water on the firebreak and far ridge, but so far he had not seen or heard them. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine, but Phineas just shrugged it off and got back to work. Maybe something was holding them up. They would come.

It was early afternoon when Phineas began to question his sanity. He had been stopping and drinking water regularly, and had even paused long enough to scarf down a MRE. However, nothing short of insanity could explain him seeing what appeared to be a silver-hoofed, white-coated unicorn. Tiny braids were woven into its mane and tail, each with a silver bell on the end. A young -- person -- sat astride it, wearing a crown of flowers and not much else. Together, they lead a string of forest inhabitants, not all of which were animals, away from the encroaching fire, across the break Phineas had worked so hard to make, and over the far ridge at a pretty quick clip. Phineas stopped to drink more water. Dehydration could cause hallucinations. An hour passed, maybe two, Phineas wasn't certain because his watch stopped working sometime before dawn and still there was no air coverage. He rechecked his supplies and decided he had enough to last another day, maybe two, if he didn't suck down too much water keeping the hallucinations at bay.

The shadows had lengthened indicating evening was upon him. He had seen no other living creature since that hallucination earlier, and the temp gauge was steadily creeping upward. The fire was coming. Phineas looked at his work and hoped the firebreak would hold. Chances of that were slim without the backup of the tankers, which had not shown up yet. That worried him. Had the fire shifted requiring the team to abandon this section? If so then why wasn't he recalled? Worriedly, he pulled out his fire resistant shelter and picked a spot in the middle of the break to dig the hole that might save his life.

When it was finished he looked at it. Coffin-sized. A shiver ran up his spine. He looked back toward the fire side of the forest and saw the blaze headed his way.

Hallucinating, he had to be. Again.

From over the ridgeline came the belled unicorn at a full gallop. His rider, still wearing nothing more than a floral crown, rode bareback, using only a fistful of mane to keep his seat. Together they crossed the fire break and headed toward the encroaching flame. As they reached the underbrush, the rider slipped from the unicorn's back, landing in a crouch. Curious, Phineas headed over to where they entered the brush. He noticed the fire seemed to be creeping closer, but trusted his gear to keep him safe. And it would so long as he wasn't stupid.

What he saw caused his heart to stop. The youth -- Phineas noted he was a very well made youth at that -- had faced off with a flaming lizard. Not a fire-breathing dragon, but a lizard that literally dripped flame. The youth had nothing but a flimsy net and a sharpened wooden stick to defend himself with against the flame-lizard. Without realizing the danger he was putting himself in, Phineas ran toward them. His intention was to put his flame retardant gear between the youth's alabaster skin and the flame that sought to scorch that smooth perfection.

Running headlong into danger had never been high on Phineas' to-do list. Then again, neither was being skewered by a raging unicorn; however, that is what happened. One moment he was placing himself between the youth and the flame-lizard, and the next he was looking down at the horn protruding from his chest.

That was when the world went dark.

Gradually Phineas realized he was not dead. At least he didn't think he was dead. His head hurt. So did his chest and back. He was certain nothing should hurt if a person was dead. He also realized he was laying on grass -- naked -- and there was something warm lying beside him. He tried to move, but failed in his attempt.

"Shhh, don't move yet, the healing is not complete," melodious tones filled the air as the voice spoke. Phineas smiled as the minutes passed and he began to feel almost normal. He opened his eyes. There was still something protruding from his chest. It appeared to be a silver spiral. That is when he remembered the unicorn.

"Is it dead?" Phineas whispered.

"The salamander is being returned to the lava flats where it is supposed to live," the voice responded.

"No, no, the unicorn," Phineas corrected.

"He lives, barely," the tones took on a sadness. "He is sorry he harmed you. You were unexpected."

"I thought you were being hurt," Phineas admitted after a while.

"And you were hurt, so quiet now," the youth smiled at Phineas, "he will live."

Phineas smiled back and dropped into oblivion again.

"He's a SilverWing," one voice whispered loudly, "are you certain you want to do this?"

"I have no choice. If Viago is to live…" the melodious tones Phineas had begun to associate with the youth replied.

"Viago should have thought about that before he attacked a SilverWing. They are very difficult to kill," the deeper voice tsk-tsked.

"He did not know. I did not know. We were so focused on the salamander that he surprised us."

"Where is the horn now?"

"In the SilverWing."

"How do you plan to do it?"

"He can not fly…" the melodious voice replied sadly, "even with wings of silver."

There was silence and Phineas felt his chest. He knew they had to be talking about him, but he did not feel the horn, so he wondered how it could be inside him. He sighed and looked around for some water, certain that he was hallucinating again. Or still.

Several hours passed before anyone came in the room where he had been sequestered to check on him. When someone did, Phineas was pleased to discover it was the youth.

"Why did you come?" he asked as he sat on the chair near the bed.

"There was a fire…" Phineas began, not quite sure how to answer.

"The salamander, yes."

"The forest. It's my… job… to protect the forest from fire."

The youth cocked his head. "What type of man are you?"

Phineas looked at him, not understanding the question. When he didn't answer in a reasonable length of time, the youth repeated himself.

"I am just a man," Phineas answered finally.

"Do you feel pain? Love? Hatred? Joy?"

Phineas nodded at each question. "I do, why do you ask?"

"Viago has forbidden me to harm you, even if it means his death. I do not want Viago to die."

"Who is Viago?"

"The unicorn in the forest."

"I don't want him to die either," Phineas said quietly.

"Then DIE!" the youth shouted as he ran from the room.

Phineas lay there stunned for several minutes, then managed to climb out of bed. Walking unsteadily, he found his way down the hall and into a garden. There he found the youth, curled up next to a hornless unicorn.

"Do you really want me to die?" he asked.

The youth nodded as he clung to the next of Viago, who nickered softly.

"Then kill me," Phineas said gently.

"You can not mean that."

"I do," Phineas assured him, "I would rather be dead than to see you sick with grief."

Viago nickered again; his muzzle pushed the youth away. The man-child looked stricken as tears began to pour down his cheeks. "You can not mean it!" Another nicker. "I will not do it!" He threw himself prostrate on the ground and beat it with his hands in anger and frustration. Phineas watched. He was even more certain now that this was a hallucination.

It was dawn when they stopped at the edge of a cliff. The youth came for him before the sun had risen and they walked uphill to this place. Now they stood facing the sunrise. "Viago says I must do this."

"Do you always do what Viago tells you?"

The youth nodded. "I was young when he chose me. We are always chosen young."

"Why did he choose you?"

"I was not sullied."

"And what if you were?"

"Viago would die."

"And if Viago dies first?"

The youth looked out across the land. "Then Innocence will die."

"Did Viago tell you what you must do?"

"He did."

"Then why are you here? You should be doing what he said!"

"I can not go back," the youth hiccupped as he wept silent tears. "Viago said that I must…"

Phineas suddenly found himself embraced by the youth. His arms wrapped around the youth to support his weight, but still he took an involuntary step backwards. His heel slipped on a stone, and the two tumbled through the air.

The heavy thump of a rotor roused Phineas. It was a sound he had expected to never hear again. He was strapped to a rescue basket along with another person. He opened his eyes and gazed at the youth from his hallucination. He was smiling. Phineas smiled back. Then the world went black.

"…never seen anything like it before in my life. He was standing on the edge of the cliff when the tank dumped. A couple hundred thousand gallons of water rained down on the fire a few yards behind them and…"

The voice of his commanding officer penetrated the darkness in Phineas' mind.

"…he just jumped, clutching the boy to his chest. There is no way he could have known the water would be deep enough to save them." After a short pause, the voice continued, "No, no one knows where the boy came from. We thought that ridgeline had been cleared. I'm not even sure how Phineas got up there." Another pause, "Yes, the boy has woken. He hasn't spoken to anyone except to ask for 'Silverwing' it took us a while to figure out that he meant Phineas. He always wore his father's wings inside his jumpsuit." Another short silence. Phineas finally figured out that his commanding officer was talking on the telephone. "No, Phineas seems to be fine. He's not woken up yet, but the doctors seem to think it will be any time. Hey hang on; I think he's… yeah! Hey I'll talk later got to get the doc!"

Phineas was aware of movement next to him. A slender arm snaked around his stomach. Phineas smiled as he opened his eyes to look into those of the youth. The youth smiled, leaned upwards, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Viago lives."

Phineas smiled, "And so do you. What is your name? I have no idea what to call you."

The youth traced a finger along Phineas' jaw line. "I am Innocence."

**the end**

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