Page 73 of In Between Darkness
“These trainers are Influenced.” His eyes meet mine with anticipation, as if he is waiting for my face to colour with shock. My eyes widen to satisfy his excitement.
He plucks another pair off the side of the post by their laces and hands them to me. “These are yours. Put them on, and you’ll be able to levitate to the top.”
I look back at him, dumbfounded. Influenced shoes? I have never worn these in my life. I will surely fall flat on my face.
“Are you serious?” I ask, holding the trainers in my hands.
“As a Moon.” Jaxon’s banter is dry as I watch him slip his heavy boots off and replace them with the light pair of trainers. I ignore his comment and arch over to do the same. My boots are heavy too, and fit tightly on my ankles. They fight me as I pull them off. I stare down at the large trainers waiting patiently for my soles to enter them.
“But how do you know they’re my size? They look awfully big,” I ask, picking them up and examining them further. Their length is bigger than my forearm.
Jaxon chuckles and gently levitates in front of me. He is only about an inch off the ground, but nevertheless, I am impressed.
“One size fits all, they will shrink to your size.”
He is now taller than the long grass, and I have to look up to meet his gaze. He’s right. I feel the strange sensation of the material morphing and hugging my feet. The laces tighten and make a loop de loop in front of my eyes, completing a perfect bow. The sensation causes me to wobble a little as the trainers lift me above the ground. My heart is racing like an idiot, but I can’t help smiling. Looking up, I notice Jaxon, who is stationary a metre or so above me, waiting for me to reach his level.
As I elevate higher and higher, I can see the grass swaying in patterns made by the wind.
“How do I control them?” I ask, wanting to know how to stop when I reach his eye line.
“They are Influenced to sync with your thoughts; all you have to do is think about which way you want to go.”
I can finally see the motion of his lips as he talks; I am level with him. I think about stopping and, like magic, I am floating, just like River was in the ether of Astra Nova. I push this thought down to suffocate the memory and wipe the sweat that has formed on my brow. I see the horror in his eyes replay in my mind, the ridges of disgust that formed on his face when I told him I wasn’t a Sun. River is tormenting me like a bad dream,and he has no idea. We both had a tough pill to swallow, but at least his stayed down. Mine keeps trying to creep up and show its ugly face every time I close my eyes. I wish I could forget. I’m surprised the shoes could even lift me with the weight of my conscience.
“Impressive, right?” Jaxon smiles widely and nods down at my feet as if to congratulate the shoes on their performance so far. His dark brown ringlets shine caramel in the light of the sun as he continues up towards the platform at the top of the stilt. I nod in response and follow close behind him.
“So what do we do with the old hay?” I have to raise my voice a little as a gust of cool wind muffles my words. The air tickles my skin as I climb higher and higher.
“We bag it up and feed it to the farm animals.”
He is parallel with me now as we levitate in synchrony. I feel nauseated thinking about the sad lives those farm animals live. Given old hay and bred purely to be devoured. This shouldn’t pain me the way it does because I’m a carnivore. I think about the bacon I had for breakfast this morning, and my mouth salivates, but I don’t hunt and kill the animals myself. I don’t cram them in cages and then release them for a savage butchering. And it’s not like it’s a short and sweet dance with death, it’s a slow and calculated hunt, a sadistic slaughter. I remember the gazelle, here one moment and gone the next, crying as its flesh was mutilated and torn clean off its bones. Elions are relentless, and they like to play with their food. Jaxon must have caught the sorrow on my face because he gives me a consoling smile.
“The hay is only a day old, so the farm animals don’t mind. The elions are very particular; they must have a fresh bed every day, otherwise they get cranky.”
I understand how he thinks that knowing this will settle the sickness squirming in my stomach. I force down the lump in mythroat and curve my lips into a small smile. I try not to think about the little deer’s carcass just below me. Gods help me when I am on feeding duty.
He stops at the top and grabs the netted material, hugging the huge face of the platform. He peels it away from the first corner and then floats to the next corner to do the same thing. He stops for a moment and stares at me.
“Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna help?”
His words force me to break my gaze.
“U-uuhhh yeah… sorry.”
My shoes carry me to the corners on the far end. I copy Jaxon’s movements and unhook each netted lip from the wooden ninety-degree angle. My brain slowly pieces together this clever process. The hay sits on a huge netted sheet. The holes are as small as ants, so it acts as a bag for the hay when we lift each corner and gather it in the middle. Jaxon twizzles the net and ties its corners into a messy knot. He throws the mass of hay over his shoulder and floats a little higher towards a thin metal rope that runs streamline all the way through the elion territory. He is not as elegant this time with the extra weight of the hay. I’m sure it weighs a ton, and the shoes are struggling to meet his demands. The long rope hangs from one end of the valley to the other. It looks like it’s welded through a large rock on the peak of the highest valley; it runs diagonally all the way down to where the farm animals bide their time and get plump on old hay for the elions’ disposal. Jaxon attaches a small hook through the loop of the bag and cradles it over the metal rope. The bag glides seamlessly down the zip line and plummets to the ground next to the farmhouse below.
“One down, nine to go,” he pants at me, still out of breath from carrying three times his body weight in hay. The sun’s rays are hot, and Jaxon’s forehead is glistening in the light.
“Where does the new hay come from?” I question using the back of my hand to wipe the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.
Jaxon rests his feet on the platform and points a finger behind me. I swivel my body in response.
“There’s a shed down there in the distance. It’s filled with hay and fresh nets. You okay doing the old hay and I’ll do the fresh?”
“Yeah. Are you sure you’ll be able to carry it all?” I question, watching the sweat thickening on his forehead from lifting one bag.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend to help me.”
