I Am A Flyer

Matrim

Hints of light were just beginning to show on the eastern horizon, signaling that dawn was quickly approaching. By now, Jett was barely stumbling along, dead tired and starving for both food and water. All night long, he had followed this road, and it had yet to lead him to a city.

Had he made the right choice?

What if this road went on forever, leading to nowhere? It was too late now, in any case. Either this road would bring him to a city, or he would die. Because there was no way he would let Gray take him back. He would rather be free and dead, then alive and some obedient slave.

How could he live in a cage? Able to see the emerald life of nature, the pure, trickling streams, and the brilliant azure skies, yet unable to touch and feel and experience them? He couldn't imagine it; that kind of life wouldn't be life at all! It would be a slow, miserable death!

He stumbled on, exerting every ounce of his will just to make his exhausted body move. On and on, as the light began to spread its warm fingers throughout the sky. On and on, until his vision began to twist and turn, and his lungs seemed to shrink to the size of peas. But he couldn't stop, because this was it! He had gone too far to turn back. This was it. Do or die.

Then a deep, rumbling animal pulled up beside him, and too weary to do anything else, Jett stumbled to a stop, staring at it. Only, it wasn't an animal - it was a truck. A middle-aged man with sky-blue eyes sat in it, looking at Jett with some kind of surprise.

They looked at each other for a bit - the man in wondering curiosity, and Jett like a mortally wounded creature. Finally, the man decided to talk.

"Where are you going?"

Jett eyed the man warily, wondering if this man was going to try and take him back to Troit. Then he remembered that his face was covered, and that the man had no way of knowing that he had come from there. A little less wary, he answered.

"The city."

The man let out a low whistle, with a little shake of his head. "Kid, Mianka is over 320 miles away! You think you can walk there?"

Jett frowned. Three hundred and twenty miles? Then how far had he come already? He had no idea. His shoulders slumped miserably. It would take him weeks just to get to the city. And Gray probably would find him way before then. There was no way. . .

He glanced up at the man, and realized that the guy was waiting for some kind of explanation. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

"I - I'm training." His voice came out hoarse and gravelly, it was so dry, and he swallowed, wincing.

"Training?" The man was incredulous, and he looked Jett up and down. "With no water or supplies? I'll bet." Leaning over, he opened the door nearest to Jett. "Get in, kid. I'll give you a ride."

Jett warily looked at the open door, then at the man. This was a complete stranger, here. Someone whom Jett knew nothing about. For all he knew -

"I'm not gonna eat you, kid," the man sighed, with a hint of exasperation. "Now get in before you fall over. You look like you're about to faint."

Jett looked at the car, then at the road which went on and on for 320 miles. His choice was made for him. A little nervously, he climbed into the vehicle, and gingerly pulled the door closed. When it slammed shut, he gave a little jump, and shot an uneasy glance at the man.

"Put on your belt," the man said, making a gesture.

Jett didn't have a clue as to what the man was talking about. Besides, now that he was sitting in a strange chair that was oddly comfortable, all he wanted to do was sleep. . .