Chaos

by Taylor Longford

  By now, you're probably wondering why I didn't just whip out my cell phone and call for help. Well, believe it or not, I didn't have a cell phone. My father's so old-fashioned he thinks teenagers should pay for their own phones. Well, at fifteen, I didn't have any way to make that much money. And, in Herr Pater's words, I wasn't getting a phone from him until either my grades or my attitude improved. I wasn't too happy about it and neither was my mother but she didn't have much say in the matter.

  Of course, my sister had a cell phone. But Sam's older and knows how to play my father. I only know how to rebel. That's why I don't have a social networking account. I don't like being herded for corporate gain and the convenience of the National Surveillance Agency. And that sort of attitude probably explains why I didn't have any friends. And why I didn't really need a phone.

  The brisk winter air chilled me right to the bone during the trip over the foothills west of Boulder. And my teeth were chattering by the time I was deposited next to a large slab of rusting metal leaning against the side of a low cliff. At that point, I got my first good look at the thing that had abducted me and my jaw dropped a few floors as I gawped at it. Right away, I changed my mind about it being a drone. Because it was more like something out of a cheap horror flick.

  First off, it was stupid tall. I'm talkin' huge. Moby Dick huge. And covered with armored plates that moved like they were a part of its thick hide. Its shoulders were linebacker broad and its bare feet were clawed. A few sparse hairs corkscrewed out of its otherwise bald skull. But the most amazing part was the wings. The monster had a huge set of black leather wings. And while I stared, they folded down and around the creature's colossal frame like a knee-length coat.

  It all seemed so surreal. It was hard to believe it was really happening. I kept expecting to wake up in my comfortable bed at home. But I backed away from the monstrosity. "What are you?" I croaked.

  "Harpy," it answered with a smirk, as if being a harpy was at least as good as the Miss World title.

  Of course, I'd read about harpies although I'd avoided the last movie about them because the previews looked pretty awful. But they were mythical creatures that were supposed to be half-bird and half-woman. Yeah, I hated to be the one to tell her the combination wasn't exactly working. At first glance, it appeared that the female ingredient had been left out altogether. She looked like a tall, ugly bald man wearing a black leather coatdress. Which might have worked except that her ankles belonged on a turkey. And those clawed feet were never gonna fit into a pair of heels. I hoped she didn't have any peek-a-boo pumps lying around because that would just be really ugly.

  "I thought harpies were supposed to be female," I said without thinking.

  I wasn't trying to insult her but I managed to get the job done. Her fist lashed toward me and I only just managed to dodge it before it took off my head.

  "Stop it!" I screamed, throwing up my arms and ducking a second blow that flashed my way.

  She tried a few more punches on me before she gave up. "Fast," she complained, pinning me with a dark glare.

  "Yeah, well six years of elementary-school dodge ball will do that to a girl," I muttered, backing away from her while keeping an eye on her mallet-like fists.

  A menacing growl scraped from her chest as she gave me a shove toward the rusting rectangle of old metal in the side of the cliff. And grappling at the edges, she pried at it with her long, craggy fingers until it creaked open to reveal the dark tunnel of an abandoned mine. I shrank away from the gaping black hole, horrified at the prospect of being held prisoner in there.

  As the mine door swung wider, a pale slice of starlight fell on a figure standing just inside the entrance. At first I thought someone was hiding in the shadows. Then I noticed the gray, ghostly color and thought maybe it was some kind of mummy or otherwise preserved dead body. I almost had a heart attack because I've never seen a corpse before. But it wasn't a corpse; it turned out to be a statue. Of a really nice looking guy. Really nice. And for a minute, I almost forgot about the mess I was in as I tilted my head and studied it. It had wings, like the thing that had captured me. But the resemblance ended there. Because the stone sculpture was as beautiful as the monster was ugly.

  My imagination started running wild again and I wondered if the flying slagheap was some sort of alien that was traveling around the universe collecting creatures from other planets and turning them to stone. That would explain the chain around the statue's ankle and the pissed-off look on his face. He definitely looked annoyed about something, a scowl pulling his eyebrows down over his glowering gaze, his hard mouth drawn out in a flat line. His expression seemed to say, "This is SO not a good idea." And I couldn't help but wonder if I was facing the same fate as the good-looking winged guy from the other side of the galaxy.

  I didn't like that idea so I started searching my imagination for other explanations that would explain his presence, even though the statue didn't look like anything that was created on this earth. It was too life-like. And no human artist could carve individual eyelashes from solid rock. It wasn't possible! On the other hand, I was looking at a flying monster that was equally not-possible. So maybe the sculpture had been crafted by some ancient or exotic race, maybe on a distant planet. Or maybe somebody had a very expensive 3-D printer at their disposal.

  My gaze locked on the statue's beautiful face as I pointed a shaking finger at him. "Who is he? One of your ancestors?" I asked, even though I didn't think they could be related—wings or no wings. There's no way his perfect genes could have been twisted to produce the abomination hulking before my eyes.

  "Mine," the harpy answered in a harsh croak that sounded just like a vulture, if a vulture could talk. Her black eyes narrowed on him with possessive greed.

  "Where'd he come from?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to rub the chill from my shoulders.

  The monster turned her wide leer on me. "Stole him," she answered. "He's mine."

  Okaaay then. He was hers. She'd made that pretty clear. I decided I'd better drop the subject. Moving on to the next topic, I asked, "What do you want with me?"

  Her gaze shifted toward the handsome statue again. "Need girl. Need girl to wake the pretty boy."

  I sent a frown in the direction of the gray sculpture. Okay, so evidently harpies were lunatics. At least this one was, if she thought statues could come to life.

  Two deep lines creased the monster's forehead as her eyes narrowed on me. "Not sure."

  "Not sure about what?" I asked tentatively and took a step away from the mine's gaping black portal while I was at it.

  "Not sure girl is pretty enough," she rasped like she was gargling stones.

  She wasn't the only one who had doubts. I had the same concern. I mean, I wasn't bad looking. Maybe I was even cute in an upturned-piggy-nose, needs-to-lose-ten-pounds sort of way. But I wasn't beautiful enough to bring solid stone to life. Now I just needed to convince her of that while trying to remain positive about the whole situation.

  "Well, lets get started so I can get back to the library before it closes. What do I need to do? Sprinkle him with holy water? Fairy Dust? Or will a kiss wake him up?" I ran my tongue over my lips at the prospect of collecting a kiss from the statue. He was the epitome of male perfection. And that pouting, sulky mouth of his was so…hot. A kiss might even make this whole episode worthwhile…if it didn't turn out to be a bizarre dream.

  But the harpy wasn't so keen on the whole kissing idea. Her head swiveled around sharply on her neck and she glared at me with a look of black malice. She actually looked jealous. If she was, it was the first time anybody had ever been jealous of me.

  "What do you need me to do?" I asked, going for unthreatening body language and hoping to assure her I wasn't going to steal her boyfriend.

  A wicked light flashed in her beady black eyes. "Suffer," she answered.

  Chapter Three

  Yeah, so that didn't sound good. I started screaming for help even though I was pr
etty sure there was no one around to hear me. But the noise I was making just made the harpy mad; she slammed me around pretty good as she dragged me into the mine and down the tunnel. I stumbled over the old ore cart rails that ran the length of the mine and splashed through a few puddles. But I kept shouting, right up until she tore open my backpack and threatened to gag me with a pair of my brand new undies.

  I sniffed back the blood running from my nose and shook my head. "Not Wednesday," I said. They were my favorite color; a pale aqua.

  "You'll be hush?" the harpy snarled.

  "I'll be hush," I promised, slumping back against the wall and sliding down to the mine's damp floor. Hugging my knees, I kept my mouth shut and watched the monster stomp back to the portal.

  So, to sum things up, I was being held captive in a cold, damp mine by a maniacal flying slagheap who talked to statues. And for the next I-don't-know-how-long, she yelled at the statue and described how she was going to hurt me if it didn't wake up. Some of her torture scenarios were pretty inventive considering she probably wasn't familiar with either Steven King or Freddy Krueger. I don't know how the statue felt about what was going down, but she sure as hell scared the crap outta me. I was a quivering mass of terror crouched against the tunnel wall.

  It wasn't so bad when the door was open and she was raving at the statue but when the door was closed it was utter blackness in there. You can't even imagine how dark it was, without any hint of light. I felt so alone and isolated. Not only did I begin to wonder if I even existed, I also began to wonder if there was a world outside the mine portal. If there really was a Boulder, Colorado. If I even had a family.

  I lost track of time and couldn't tell if it was night or day. I didn't know if I'd been there for ten hours or a week. It was cold inside the mine but not nearly as cold as the temperature outside—thank God. It wasn't too bad when I had my jacket but the harpy didn't let me keep it for long, ripping it away from my shoulders and carrying it away with her. After that, I was cold and hungry and—eventually—thirsty. And I was always tired but the broken ground was rocky and hard and wet, so it was difficult to sleep for more than a few minutes. I found a relatively flat ledge to sit on, curled into a ball against the wall and dozed when I could.

  "Thirsty," I complained when the harpy finally opened the door again and a little light spilled in my direction.

  Her bulky form blocked out the vertical strip of light in the doorway then she disappeared for a few minutes. When she returned, she carried a large snowball that she dropped in front of me. I grabbed for the white mass and held it in my freezing fingers as I sucked the moisture down my dry throat. No amusement-park snow cone had ever tested better. But I wondered how I'd survive once summer came and there was no more snow on the ground. I might have to scoop water from the shallow puddles on the mine's floor…assuming I lasted that long.

  I didn't dare explore the mine. I was effectively blind in the inky darkness and afraid I'd fall down a shaft. The harpy had warned me that the mine was full of holes and it wasn't hard to imagine a network of shafts leading to lower levels. Like the hole that had been used by the previous owner for the mine's powder room. Yeah, I'm being sarcastic. An "outhouse" had been built over a deep hole, complete with wooden seat and an old tarp hung 'round it for privacy. Not that any privacy was necessary in that unlighted prison. Anyway, it was pretty rustic. I guess it wasn't any worse than you'd find in a national park campsite, but it wasn't exactly the Waldorf Astoria, either.

  The powder room was down at the end of an offshoot that crossed the main tunnel. The harpy led me stumbling there the first time and, after that, I found my way alone in the dark, dragging my hand against the rock wall to find my way. Not that I needed the powder room very often with so little food and water coming my way. Because for a long time, the harpy didn't feed me.

  Every so often, she'd prop the door open and build a fire. I didn't know what she was cooking or where she got it but the smell of roasting meat would creep down the tunnel and torture me while my mouth watered and my stomach cramped. But while the monster made sure I got some water occasionally, my requests for food were ignored. Maybe starvation was part of her grand plan to make me suffer. She hadn't followed through on any of the other sadistic threats she'd described in her rants to the statue and maybe she thought starvation would get the job done with less mess.

  And I don't know how long things went on like that but it seemed like forever. I couldn't try to make a break for it when the door was open because the harpy was guarding the portal. And when the door was closed, I didn't know where she was. She could have been right outside, waiting for me. She could have been right inside, waiting for me! One time when I was sure she wasn't inside the mine, I crept down the tunnel and gave the door a try. But the thing was absolutely massive.

  And Honest-to-God, I thought I was going to die of starvation even though I knew I had enough padding on me to last a while. Heck, my breasts alone would probably keep me alive for three months. That's how camels survive in the desert, right? By living off their humps? And I knew that humans could survive a long time on nothing but water.

  But without any sort of nourishment, the cold was taking its toll. At first, I tried to exercise to keep warm but eventually the activity made me weak and light-headed so I gave up. I shivered and slept when I could, crouched against the wall, waking up stiff and sore to face more hours of empty blackness, wishing I had a book and the light to read it by. Or, even better, a fully charged eReader.

  One time I tried to sing just to keep up my spirits, but the harpy didn't seem to appreciate my voice. In fact, she completely lost it. She propped the door open and came roaring down the tunnel and threw her fists at me, which I managed to dodge even though my legs were pretty stiff by then. And all the time she was screaming at me to stop the horrible noise, like I was a terrible singer. Which is ridiculous because you know what? There's nothing wrong with my voice. I could have been in Chorus if I'd wanted to, if I'd fit in with the Chorus crowd. She was just being ugly mean and I told her so with as many insults as I could throw at her. She tried to hit me again but she was just too slow for me. But I didn't push my luck. I wasn't stupid. And I knew if she landed even one blow, it would be all over for me. So I wasn't brave enough to keep singing but I did hum defiantly as she stalked away.

  "Not pretty enough," she shrieked, wheeling suddenly and slamming her fist into the rock beside my head. "Girl not pretty enough."

  Story of my life. I was never good enough. Never pretty enough. Never smart enough. "S-Sorry," I stammered, hunching down into a crouch and expecting the next blow to splatter my skull like a watermelon.

  But the harpy stomped away toward the front of the mine where she got right in the statue's face. "Get rid of girl tomorrow," she screamed. "Find a prettier one."

  Slumped against the wall, I dug through my pack and found my mirror so I could check my face. The harpy had a point. I certainly wasn't at my best, my face streaked with dirt. Using the back of my hand, I tried to rub my skin clean but only managed to spread the grime around. I decided I'd have to use some of the next snowball she gave me to clean up a little bit.

  Staring at my reflection, I tugged at the gold ring in my eyebrow, and wondered how she planned to get rid of me. If she'd slash my throat open with her talons. Or crush my head against the rocks. Of if she'd simply let me go. Somehow, I didn't think that was the most likely scenario.

  On the other hand, I wasn't sure I'd make it until tomorrow, however long that was. I was both starving and freezing, my stomach knotting in waves of pain, my body racked by tremors I couldn't stop, my teeth clacking together like the percussion section at a kindergarten Christmas concert. I was exhausted. And I suspected that if I fell asleep I might not wake up again. I watched the open door for a few minutes then closed my eyes and slipped away into a troubled dream where I was playing a video game that involved cheeseburgers and ice cream cones. I was supposed to blow up the food but I kept trying to ea
t it and kept losing my lives.

  I was just about to sink my teeth into a huge cheeseburger when something grabbed me from behind, banding its arms around me. I woke with a start and opened my eyes to total darkness. Something had me in its grip. Something almost as hard as a rock. I assumed it was the harpy and started screaming, thinking she was finally getting to the torture part of her evil plan, and it was all over for me.

  My arms were pinned over my chest so I kicked out with my legs. "Wh-What! What's going on? G-Get off me you freaking pervert!"

  "I'm not a pervert," growled a young male voice in an unfamiliar accent. "I'm not old enough."

  "Then g-get off me!" I insisted, slamming my heel into where I thought his shin should be. As it connected, I heard a grunt of pain followed by a muttered curse.

  "Stop it," he snarled while I flailed around in his arms. "You're freezing. I need to get you warm before you lose any more body heat."

  I held up for a second, panting, trying to figure out what was going on in the absolute darkness. The good news was, I wasn't dealing with the harpy. And the guy who had his arms around me didn't sound too happy about the situation so maybe he wasn't a pervert after all. And as his warmth seeped into my bones, it was hard to put up much of a fight, especially when I was feeling so weak. I stopped struggling and started shouting, "Who the hell are you? Where did you come from?"

  "I'm a prisoner like you," he muttered, his mouth so close to my ear that it sent an uneasy chill sliding down my spine. "Vilschka was keeping me in another part of the mine."

  "Vilschka?" I yelled and tried to plant an elbow in his ribs, but my arms were in lockdown.

  "Vilschka," he breathed against my ear. "That's the harpy's name."

  For a long time I didn't say anything, wanting to fight my way out of his grip. But I couldn't move. He was holding me so tight I could barely breathe. I was helpless. And there was nothing I could do about his total domination over me. Eventually, I grumbled out a question. "How…long have you been here?"