Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,89

and I. He rolled his eyes, but I clamped down hard to prevent any screams from creeping through.

“One, two, and…,” the woman said before a hissing noise with a loud clip erupted through the room. The little girl started whimpering and released a gasp. She didn’t scream, but I noticed how her face slipped into a look of agony.

The woman wiped a few drops of blood from the Walker’s cheek, then scanned the bronze tag cuffed to the outer ridge of her ear. “You’re strong,” the woman noted. “Good, you’ll need it,” I heard her whisper while peering up at Father.

“Yes, well, there we have it. I’ve sent her digital signal to you. She’s all yours,” the woman said at a normal volume with a smile. Father continued to read over the paperwork and his legal obligations.

I took advantage of his distraction and went over to the Walker, who seemed frozen. She briefly touched the brass clip permanently attached to her ear and scrunched her eyes closed in sadness.

“Uh—Hi, I’m Josiah,” I said in a low voice. Although Father’s earlier words about Walker’s unworthiness were still fresh in my mind, the curiousness of the little girl didn’t escape me. Mother always says I must introduce myself to everyone. “What’s your name?”

“Ashleigh.” Her voice was small, timid. Her eyes, red from days of crying. I remembered that her mother and father died. “Wh-why was everyone f-fighting over me?” she asked with a squeak. I glanced back at my father then stepped closer to her. She seemed sad and broken and for some reason, I wanted to fix it.

“Because you look like a princess,” I answered in a hushed tone. Her smile made Father’s open-palmed slap across my pale cheek almost worth it.

Chapter Eleven

Ashleigh, Present Day

Maverick and I developed a routine of walking to the Clinic together and sharing breakfast as the sun rose, while he observed his overnight analytics. Knowing that Maverick would crawl into his office and work himself to death gave me the resolve to keep him company despite my heavy eyelids.

I didn’t stay long this morning. The bakery was closed in observance of Pioneer day, and I wanted to walk around town. Besides, Maverick caught a lead on a particularly tricky gene and was so submersed in studying it that even my breathing was too loud for him. I saw his need to be alone and readily gave it to him.

Pioneer day was a holiday that recognized Cyler, Maverick, and Jules’ parents for their contributions to Dormas. I think the festive holiday was partly to blame for Maverick’s intensity. Although I wished I could comfort him, I knew his coping mechanism, although not necessarily healthy, was work.

As I walked around the square, I saw men joyfully chatting amongst one another. The mine and gardens were closed, so everyone took advantage of the freedom and beautiful weather. I recognized some of the Walker women that regularly frequented my Bakery. They happily spoke to one another and once again I wished I could form a deeper bond with them. I was thankful to be in the Black Manor, but I wish I could get to know and connect with some of my fellow Walkers.

I spotted Cyler and Jules at the end of the road and walked towards them. Mark Caverly, the General Store owner, was talking their ears off. I saw a proud smile on Jules’ face, but Cyler seemed to slump under the attention. As I got closer, I heard bits of their conversation.

“I met your father when he was just a wee boy!” Mark exclaimed with a chuckle. “He was always giving your grandmother a run for her money. He used to strip down naked in the square and piss on the sidewalk. Of course that was in the old town, before we had to relocate,” Mark said pensively while Jules let out a single hollow, laugh.

“Ah and your mother was a beautiful woman. She had many suitors but only your father caught her eye—that was before relationships diversified, of course,” he said with a wink. “She had a big heart. There was never a stray in Dormas, and everyone always had a home at the Black Manor. They both would be so proud.”

I noticed unshed tears in Jules’ eyes. She looked vulnerable and young in that moment. I often forgot that she, too, had lost loved ones. Once she saw me standing near, all tenderness fled her expression and disgust took its place.

“Hello, Happy Pioneer Day,” I