GARGOYLE
Part I: The Inception

Chapter 1

“Hannah, slow down.”

She wanted to. Very badly. Her sweaty palms tightly gripped the thick handlebars of the motorcycle while she willed the tired old machine to speed up. Her blue eyes, hidden behind a pair of goggles, narrowed at the road before her as she streaked down a long concrete tunnel, the humming lights from the ceiling giving their surroundings a reddish tint. The wind roared in her ears and strands of her long black hair escaped her ponytail to whip around her face. She was uncomfortable, struggling to control the bike and her fears. She did want to slow down. But if she didn’t hurry, they wouldn’t make it in time.

She ignored the passenger’s whispered protests.

Traffic thinned as she followed the dimly-lit tunnel, and the sense of unchained freedom she felt on the empty road pushed her on, impelling her to go faster and faster. She was escaping the city, was heading toward safety.

“If you crash at these speeds you’ll die.”

She sped up with a rev of the motorcycle’s engine as her passenger let out a violent cough. “If I don’t go these speeds you’ll die.”

“I’m already dying. Slow down. We need to talk.”

“But –”

“Hannah if you don’t slow down I swear I’ll jump off this damn thing.”

She knew that slowing wouldn’t put them in any immediate danger; the tunnel offered almost perfect cover. There were no other vehicles on the road so no one would see them… Hannah swallowed and gently let herself slow the bike down, pulling to the side of the road until she came to a complete stop. Then she heaved a sigh and turned around to glare at her passenger, tugging her goggles down to rest along her collarbone. “What, Mathys?”

He was climbing off the motorcycle and looking around with an expression of mild interest, brown eyes distant, as though seeing through the walls of the stony structure. His shoulder-length tawny hair, tied back just like hers, looked windswept and tangled, and his bangs tickled his nose in the breeze. His ashen skin looked as white as milk, even under the hellish glow of the tunnel’s lights. Hannah knew his body was fighting a losing battle against an illness that forced its self-made venom through his already withering veins, but Mathys seemed more peaceful than she had seen him in ages.

“You’re going to my sister’s place,” he noted, sweeping away a trace of blood on his lips with a brush of his thumb.

“You’re getting worse. Uriela is the only one who can help you.”

For a moment he only sagely nodded, thoughts far away as he wiped his hand on his jacket. “…I think you’re fighting this, Hannah, and you shouldn’t be.”

“Fighting what?” Hannah tensed as she tightened her hold on the motorcycle’s handles, determined not to waste any time. “I’m not fighting our mission. I’m ready for it.”

“I’m not talking about the mission.” Mathys said, leaning against the bike. “I know you’re ready for that.”

Hannah nodded, eager for him to get to the point so they could move on. “I’ve done everything you’ve said.”

“You’ve followed my orders beautifully. Even these ones. But are you following them for the right reasons?” Mathys grunted as he stretched, his hands reaching upward until his spine gave way with a satisfying crack. But before he could relax, another violent cough seized him and he turned away, covering his face. Hannah immediately jumped off the bike to help as he curled forward. But Mathys held up a blood-spattered hand to stop her as his fit subsided, and he straightened with a shudder. He again wiped his hands on his jacket and offered her a sickly grin and a happy sigh.

Hannah frowned, bothered by this show of ease in the face of his worsening illness. “I’m taking you to the Astin House so that Uriela can help you.”

“You’re supposed to take me to the Astin House when I die, like I told you to.” Mathys turned to her and asked, “Do you think I’m dying?”

Hannah argued. “You’re sick, but you can still live a little long –”

“Do you?” he pressed.

Hannah glared at him. “No.”

“So why are we going to the Astin House? It’s not to ask Uriela for help.”

“You’re her little brother. She might—”

“You know better than to expect that from her.” Mathys cut her off. “So why are we going to the Astin House?”

Hannah tongued her cheek, trying to find an answer Mathys would accept while at the same time refusing to speak.

“See, that.” Mathys chuckled as she gulped awkwardly, unable to respond. “That’s what you’re fighting. My death.”

“It’s not funny,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to talk about this, and he knew that. Why was he so cruelly insisting they have this conversation? “And you’re not dying.”

Mathys shrugged. “Actually, I am. I think,” he let out a slow breath, one he must have been holding, and grinned sheepishly at her, “it’s my time.”

Suddenly Hannah found she couldn’t face him anymore, couldn’t stand another second looking into his beautiful amber eyes, or taking in his carefree smile. She feared her heart would burst if she took even a small peek at him now. She closed her eyes as Mathys brought a hand to her chin, lifting her gaze to his.

“You realize, don’t you,” she heard him mutter, “that the fact you’ve followed those orders at all is because you’ve already accepted it?”

Tears flowing from beneath her lashes, Hannah nodded.

“Hannah, we’ve all got our parts to play in the game –”

“The game of fate.” Hannah faintly protested. “You keep saying that. But I don’t want you to die. I don’t want to die. If the only way we can save your people is by waiting to die then I don’t…” She trailed off, feeling as though she were falling into mute turmoil.

Mathys was silent for a moment, considering her words with a frown. Hannah struggled to fill the soundless void, not wanting to waste any time with him, now that their time together was running short.

“The Astin are happy,” she went on with a dry voice, feeling herself weaken against his increasing stiffness. “The Ansel are happy. You’re all –”

“You think we’re happy? You think that will last? That these people will live happily ever after? That the sickness won’t get worse… Like with my family?” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “That the virus won’t kill us all? They’re going to get worse, just like me, and you would have me waste away and do nothing if it meant we stayed together for a little while longer?

“Well…yeah,” she answered, guilt-ridden.

Mathys stared at her as she clumsily brushed rogue strands of hair from her face and shamefully avoided his gaze. Then he chuckled. “I sometimes forget why I love you so much, Baby. But you always remind me again.”

Hannah’s eyes welled with tears and her cheeks turned pink with a wave of tangled emotions at his use of a pet name. “I’d do anything for you… Except let you die.”

“You’ve got to learn to live without me.”

“I don’t want to.” Hannah shook her head. “And I don’t know if I need to Mathys. We’ve been watching these people for a long time and they seem happy now, the way they all are. Can’t they just enjoy their life while they have it?” She reached forward with a tender hand and tugged on the hem of his blood stained jacket. “Can’t we?” she quietly sobbed.

Mathys slowly leaned forward and kissed Hannah’s forehead, his gaze understanding. “I wish we could.”

“But Mathys, if this doesn’t work…”

“You just have to trust me.” He smiled.

Hannah remained unconvinced. She stared at the floor, the black crust of pavement crunching softly beneath her boots as she shuffled her feet uncomfortably. Mathys was so much stronger than she was, and he always had been. Even at the thought of his own death he was stronger than Hannah and it stung to think she could not be brave for him when he was doing so much. The least she could do was return his smile. But she felt unable to offer the feeblest of grins, lacking the volition to meet his handsome face.

“I know what’ll cheer you up, Babe.” Mathys moved away from her to climb back onto the motorbike with a laughing grin. She stared as he patted the seat in front of him. “Let’s play a game.”

Such was the norm with their strange relationship. He was always stronger, so he always won. “Which game?” she asked, as defeated as ever.

“When we reach into the air and fly. Like we used to.”

Hannah continued to stare wearily at him, searching his face for any sign of the fear that she felt. But there was nothing, not even a trace of sorrow. Hannah could only see his determination, and she marveled at his ability to make it seem like he wasn’t dying at all. But if this was what he wanted, she would play, if only to distract herself from the hot sting of the tears on her lashes.

Mathys raised an eyebrow, expectant. “Come on, Hannah. I haven’t got all night.”

She knew that. So she willed herself to move. For him.

She pulled her goggles up over her eyes while she swung her legs over the side of the bike. Her body seemed to be working without her mind, directing the motorcycle to roar with life and leap forward before she was really comfortable in her seat. Mathys wrapped his arms around her waist, the warmth of the blood seeping through her shirt as he squeezed. He laughed and laughed as she pushed the bike faster and faster.

It took them only a few moments of sailing down the street at top speeds for the end of the tunnel to appear, a bright speck of dawn on the horizon. Hannah could see the deep gleam of the sun, imagined it flooding over the night sky and clearing the way for morning. Soon they’d reach the tunnel’s exit and that light would flood over them too. For some reason she hated that idea of arriving at the end, was afraid of emerging into the sunrise.

Mathys playfully called over her shoulder. “Alright, let’s fly!”

Hannah had to concentrate to force aside the heavy dread in her gut. Suddenly she wasn’t ready, not for any of it. She didn’t want to play, she didn’t want him to let go of her, or pull away from this embrace. She trembled at the thought.

Mathys must have felt her shivers, for he called to her again. “Hannah,” he said, “trust me!”

She did trust him. She trusted him with all her heart and soul. So even though her fingers felt numb, she let him pull her hands away from the steering and twine his fingers with hers, and even though her limbs felt heavy, she lifted her arms into the air alongside Mathys’.

Mathys whooped with excitement, delighting at the danger of their little game. The bike zoomed forward without guidance, capable of crashing and killing them both. But to the dying Mathys this was a game, and he wanted her to play with him.

Hannah smiled. How could she refuse? She was happy now. Both of them were.

But Hannah did not see that death was waiting for them at the tunnel’s end.

All they saw as they neared the exit was the dark silhouette of a lone figure, shadow elongated on the street, with a gun pointed right at them.