SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

The boost is coming. Along with the countdown. But if I concentrate, I can hear the crowd when Keigo’s name and mine are announced, the spatter of water as the waves hit rock below us. Lucio was right. I haven’t lost myself. Not completely.

I’m ready when the buzzer sounds. Kicking off, into the air, my body screaming with remembrance as the next vid sequence shudders to life. A lion taking down an antelope. Horses dragging a thundering stagecoach past my eyes. Gunfire cracking through my ears as cowboys and indians chase my bike through the first curve.

Someone’s drafting off me. Keigo.

Cameras flash in the periphery of the track as we ricochet past. I lean into my bike, silently coaxing more speed out of it. I have the holeshot as the course straightens into the first set of jumps. I am an eagle soaring with a trout clutched between my talons. I am a missile detonating shockwaves through the earth. A surfer shredding waves…

The waves press in on me, licking the track below my bike. I can’t…

“ I made you; I can destroy you .” Marek.

—flash—

Ari smiles as we ready our bikes.

—flash—

“ Don’t look into the sun, my friend .”

—flash—

My stomach is somewhere up near my ears as I lead the pack into the steep downhill, right before the—

—flash—

“ Prepare yourself ,” Marek says. “ Prepare— ”

It’s too fast. The music, too loud. The vid-chain…it’s…am I being hacked?

The bike shudders under my hands as I launch over the moguls. It shoots up into the air as it repulses the first jump. Then slows as gravity takes hold and we fly toward the next one. At least two guys are battling it out behind me.

Static and bizarre images blast past my eyes. It’s too much.

Did Keigo do this? No. Lucio knew. He knew and—

“ If this doesn’t work, I won’t be able to help you. ”

Fuck. I take the next curve too hard, nearly skid into the bastard coming up behind me before I straighten out. Keigo’s in front now. I tighten my grip on the handlebars.

I am a speeding train. I am the woman tied to the tracks. I am the person who escapes the exploding building just in time. I—

I’m supposed to lose. Lose it just like Ari did. Offsetting the odds in Marek’s betting book.

Cymbals crash as I take the next jump. Keigo’s in range. I can take him. I can—

All that’s left are the serpentine twists and turns to the finish line. And I’m gaining but…

—flash—

“ I own you. ”

No. I’m Jack Deseronto, and I race on my own terms.

I follow the thread of Lucio’s music. I fight through the noise, the scrambled images, until it’s just me and the course. I take the turns one at a time. I forgot there’s beauty in just being one with my bike.

I cut under Keigo for the inside line and come out on top in the last curve.

Voices are screaming, cameras flash, the finish line’s up ahead, up ahead, and after that, the sea.

The sea and simmering oblivion.

I’m not slowing down. All that momentum I built up in the descent, all that velocity, is what launches me over the crowd, over the wall of rock, until there’s nothing left for the hover bike to push against.

It falls away from me. And I’m…oh god.

I remember Ari colliding with the racetrack headfirst with a gut-punching crunch. The crowd screams but the boost is still going. I am the cop taking down a crook. I am the jockey clinging to the back of my horse as we clear the finish line. I—

I won, and there’s nothing Marek can do about it. Not anymore.

Wind slaps against my face. Lights spiral past my eyes.

I’ve always wondered…

And it’s beautiful.

Originally published by Clarkesworld Magazine, February 2014

a=38. This is the first holy number.

Stand still. Still. In the water. Barely breathing, spear in hand. One with the hand.

A light brush against my right calf. The cold and glistening touch of human skin that is not human. Yet, it’s something. Now strike. Strike.

Theo had been standing in the sea for hours—his bright green jacket tied high around his waist, the water up to his crotch. Daylight was running out. The fish was just under the point of his spear when he caught a glimpse of a beast walking towards him. Animalis Primus. The water was already lapping at its first knees.

He struck, skewering the middle of the fish through and through. It was large and cumbersome—enough for a couple of days. It fought as he pulled it out of the water. He looked at it, its smooth skin, its pink, human-like flesh. These fish were the closest thing to a human being he’d seen since he crashed on Oceanus.

Theo’s vision blurred for a moment, and he almost lost his balance. The fish kept fighting, flapping against the spear.

It gasped for air.

He drove his knife through its head and started wading ashore.

Animalis Primus was taking slow, persistent steps into the water. Its stomach bottles were already starting to fill up, its feet were tangled in seaweed. Soon, it would drown.

Theo put the fish in the net on his back and sheathed his spear to free both his hands. He would need all of his strength to get the beast back on the beach. Its hollow skeleton was light when dry, but wet, and with the sea swelling at dusk—it could take them both down.

When he got close enough, Theo placed his hands against the hips of the advancing beast to stop its motion, then grabbed it firmly by its horizontal spine to start pushing it in the other direction. The beast moved, reluctantly at first, then faster as its second knees emerged from the water and met less resistance. Finally its feet gained traction against the sand, and soon Theo was lying on his back, panting, the fish on one side, the beast on the other, dripping on the beach and motionless. But he was losing the light. In a few moments, it would be night and he would have to find his way back in the dark.

He struggled to his feet and stood next to the beast.

"What were you doing, mate?" he asked it. "You would have drowned if I hadn’t caught you, you know that?"

He knelt by the beast’s stomach and examined the bottles. They were meant to store pressurized air—now they were full of water. Theo shook his head. "We need to empty all these, dry them. It will take some time." He looked for the tubing that was supposed to steer the animal in the opposite direction when it came in contact with water. It was nowhere to be found.

"All right," he said. "We’ll get you fixed soon. Now let’s go home for the night, ja?"

He threw the net and fish over his shoulder and started pushing Animalis Primus towards the fuselage.

b=41,5. This is the second holy number.

Every night, remember to count all the things that do not belong here. So you don’t forget. Come on, I’ll help you.

Humans don’t belong here. Remember how you couldn’t even eat the fish at first, because they reminded you too much of people, with their sleek skin, their soft, scaleless flesh? Not any more, though, ja? I told you, you would get over it. In time.

Animals don’t belong here, except the ones we make.

Insects.

Birds.

Trees. Never knew I could miss trees so much.

Remember how the fish gasped for air? Like I would. Like I am.

It will be light again in a few hours. Get some sleep, friend. Get some sleep.

The wind was strong in the morning. Theo emerged from the fuselage and tied his long grey hair with an elastic band. It was a good thing he’d tethered Animalis Primus to the craft the night before.