The first impact came from the tops of the arborvitae hedge that confined the garden. The plane bounced off the pointed stops, caught some air, and then went out of sight.
Blay dematerialized around to the back terrace just in time to see the Cessna slam into the snow, the crash like a fat man doing a belly flop in a pool, great waves of white kicking up all over the place. And then the aircraft turned into the biggest Weedwacker known to man, the combination of its steel body and too-fast velocity ripping through stands of fruit trees, and beds of flowers that had been secured for the winter, and shit, even the lineup of bird fountains.
But fuck all that. He didn’t care if the whole place got regraded, as long as that plane stopped…before the retaining wall.
For a split second, he was of half a mind to materialize in front of the thing and put his hands out, but that was crazy. If the Cessna didn’t seem even annoyed at the marble statuary it was now mowing down, it wasn’t going to give two shits about a living, breathing male—
For no apparent reason, all that out-of-control began to spin, the wing facing Blay swinging around as if Qhuinn was trying to steer. The fishtail was the perfect move—it went without saying that there were no brakes, and assuming the corkscrew stayed tight, it would give them more area to lose forward momentum in.
Shit, they were getting really close to the retaining wall—
Sparks lit up the night, along with a metal-on-stone scream that announced that “really close to the wall” had been replaced with “right up against”—but thanks to the wrenching turn Qhuinn had pulled off, they had skidded into a parallel position, rather than a head-on one.
Blay started running in the direction of the light show, and as he did, others joined him, a whole cast of people falling in line. There was no stopping this, but they could damn well be on hand when things—
Crunch!
—ended.
The airplane finally met an inanimate object it couldn’t get the best of: the shed that was used to keep some of the lawn equipment and gardening supplies in at the very rear of the garden.
Dead stop.
And it was way too quiet. All Blay heard was the pffing impact of his shitkickers traveling through the snow, and his breath punching out into the cold air, and the scramble of the others behind him.
He was the first to reach the aircraft, and he went for the door that by some miracle was facing outward and not into the concrete wall. Wrenching the thing open, and getting out his flashlight, he didn’t know what to expect inside—smoke? Fumes? Blood and body parts?
Zsadist was sitting rigid in a backward-facing seat, his big body strapped in, both hands locked on the armrests. The Brother was staring straight ahead and not blinking.
“Have we stopped moving?” he said hoarsely.
Okay, apparently even a Brother could feel shock.
“Yes, you have.” Blay didn’t want to be rude, but now that he was sure one of them had made it, he had to see if Qhuinn—
The male stumbled out of the cockpit. In the light of Blay’s beam, he looked like he’d been on a hard-core amusement ride, his hair slicked back from his windburned forehead, his blue and green eyes peeled wide in a face that was striped with fresh blood, every limb on him shaking.
“Are you all right!” he hollered, like maybe his ears were ringing in the aftermath of a lot of noise. “Z—say something—”
“I’m right here,” the Brother answered, grimacing as he pried one of his clawed hands off the armrest and held it up. “I’m okay, son—I’m all right.”
Qhuinn grabbed onto what was extended, and that was when his knees went out from under him. He just crumpled around their clasped palms, his voice cracking so much he could barely speak.
“I just…wanted you to be okay….I just…wanted you…to be okay—oh, God…for your daughter…I just wanted you to be okay….”
Zsadist, the Brother who never touched anyone, reached out and put his free hand on Qhuinn’s bent head. Looking up, he said softly, “Don’t let anyone in here. Give him a minute, ’kay?”
Blay nodded and turned away, blocking the doorway with his body. “They’re all right—they’re all right….”
As he babbled at the crowd, the number of faces staring up at him was a good dozen, but Bella wasn’t among them. Where was she—
“Zsadist! Zsaaaaaaaaaaaaadist!”
The scream carried all the way across the glowing blue lawn as, up at the terrace, a lone figure shot out into the snow at a dead run.
Lots of people shouted back at Bella, but he doubted she heard a thing.
“Zsaaaaaaaaaadist!”
As she skidded into range, Blay immediately reached for her, concerned she was going to slam right into the side of the plane. And, oh, God, he was never going to forget the expression on her face—it was more horrific than any war atrocity he’d ever seen, as if she were being flayed alive, sure as her arms and legs were strapped down and pieces of her very flesh were being peeled from her body.
Qhuinn jumped out of the aircraft. “He’s okay, he’s all right, I promise you—he’s just fine.”
Bella froze, like that was the last thing she expected anyone to say.
“My nalla, come inside,” Z said in that same quiet tone he’d used on Qhuinn. “Come in here.”
The female actually looked at Blay like she needed a check-in that she was hearing correctly. In response, he simply took her elbow and helped her through the aircraft’s little doorway.
Then he turned away and once again blocked the portal. As sounds of a female weeping openly in relief emanated, he saw Qhuinn draw his hands over his eyes like the male was clearing his own face of tears.
“Holy shit, son, I didn’t know you could fly a plane,” somebody said.
As Qhuinn looked up and appeared to glance across the landscape, Blay did the same. Talk about your post-apocalyptic scenes: There was a gully extending all along the flight path, like the finger of God had drawn a little line right through the garden.
“Actually…I can’t,” Qhuinn mumbled.
V put his hand-rolled between his lips and extended his palm. “You got my Brother home in one piece. Fuck the rest of that shit.”
“Word—”
“Yeah, thanks be to God—”
“Hell, yeah—”
“Amen—”
One by one, the Brotherhood came forward, each putting his dagger hand out. The procession took time, but nobody seemed to worry about the cold.
Blay certainly couldn’t feel it. To the point that he became paranoid….
Reaching into the warmth of his leather jacket, he found his rib cage and pinched himself as hard as he could.
Ow.
Shutting his eyes, he sent up a silent prayer that this was reality…and not the horror that might have been.
All the attention was making Qhuinn jumpy.
And it wasn’t like his little flight of fancy had been a Zen frickin’ experience. The burn in his face from all that wind, the aches in his shoulders and his back, the wobbly legs—he felt like he was still up there, still praying to nothing he believed existed, still and forever on the verge.
Of dying.
Plus he was so damn embarrassed—breaking down in front of Z like that? Come on. What a fucking pussy.
“Mind if I take a look?” Doc Jane said as she approached the crowd.
Yeah, good idea. The whole purpose of this was because Z had been injured badly enough not to be able to dematerialize.
“Qhuinn?” the female said.
“I’m sorry?” Oh, he was in the way. “Here, let me get out of the—”
“No, not Zsadist. You.”
“Huh?”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Am I?”
The doctor turned his hands over. “See?” Sure enough, his palms were dripping red. “You just wiped your face. You have a deep cut on your head.”
“Oh. Okay.” Maybe that was why he felt so spacey? “What about Z—”
“Manny’s already in there.”
Huh. Guess he’d missed that part. “You want to look at me here?”
She laughed a little. “How about we get you back to the house—if you can walk.”
“I’ll take care of him—”
“Let me get him—”
“I’ll take him—”