Wasteland (Flight)

by Lindsay Leggett

  “Your questions will be answered sooner than you think, but not now. Many more events must pass before the truth may come to light. I would not say that I can see your future, in the way that you perceive, but I do see threads of time and motion. I see the thread you cling to now, and the many threads that may come to be. I can never know what will happen, but I always know what might.”

  A small tremor of fear wiggles through my body. This girl. I remember reading something about her, or something like her, years ago. I don’t know from where, but a few words populate my mind:

  The next evolution.

  She is it. She is the Corp’s experiment. A girl who can see the shards of time.

  “Don’t worry, Piper Madden. We will see each other again. We are connected,” she says.

  I’m about to question her statement when the lights above me dim and then shut off, leaving me in darkness. Mist shoots from the cell ceilings, and my body once again falls, unconscious.

  “Piper, wake up.”

  I groan as I once again struggle to wake from my chemical sleep. How many times can I go through this? This time there are no bright lights, no painful shackles, and no strange girl.

  I open my eyes to find Essa standing in front of me. I’m seated upright on a lush, stuffed chair. The sight of her bright eyes brings back the stifling panic from when she’d betrayed me, and she covers my mouth with her gloved hand.

  “Listen to me. There’s not much time. He’ll be here soon. Piper, listen to me. We are on your side, but we can’t release you just yet. A lot of shit has gone down while you’ve been locked up, and the Corp thinks me and Rassler are still loyal. So you need to shut up and pretend I’m your enemy now. I promise we will get you out soon, but right now I need you to play dumb or we’re all screwed, okay?” she whispers.

  I take a moment to let it all sink in before nodding. She removes her hand from my mouth and grabs her gun from its holster, pointing it at me like I’m some feral, dangerous creature.

  I don’t even know how long I’ve been here anymore; months, I imagine. All I want to know is where Asher is, if he’s safe, if he still thinks of me like I think of him; every time I breathe.

  But I listen to Essa. I don’t move, but instead look around the room I’m in. The first thing I notice is frail sunlight from the windows, and warmth. We’re in one of the waiting rooms in Central. The walls are slate gray and the art hung up is eccentric and abstract.

  Most of all, beyond Essa’s gun, I’m free. No chains, no cell doors, no bars. I think of Io. She’d said everything would change soon, that we’d meet again. Had those moments actually happened? Or were they just a drug-induced dream? No. Her face is still stuck in my mind so clearly. She has to be real.

  The door to the room swings open, and Rupert marches in, flanked by Rassler… and Tor. It pains me to see him, to see the hard look on his face, how he doesn’t even look at me. He is truly lost to me now. Lost in the lies and the nano-machines erasing parts of his memory. He’s now nothing more than Rupert’s pet.

  His blond hair is parted and slicked down, and his suit is almost identical to Rupert’s. When they reach me, I look up into Rupert’s eyes, trying to see what secrets might lay behind his gaze.

  “Stand down, agent. I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said to Essa. She nodded and holstered her gun, stepping back in line beside Rassler.

  For a long moment Rupert and I just stare at each other, almost as if it’s a battle to see who can outlast the other. Finally, he breaks out into an odd smile.

  “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Piper. You look good. You look strong,” he says. I’m taken aback. I thought he would be punishing me for my escape attempt, not complimenting me.

  “What moment is this?” I reply. He motions for me to stand, and I do, albeit a little stiffly. He circles me then, studying my muscle build-up. I bite my tongue. Finally he claps his hands together.

  “You’re ready, my girl. This moment is when you move from prisoner to Hunter. It’s time for you to start work again. Much has happened,” he says.

  He must be joking. Work? As in stalk around above ground pinning down Harpies who may be innocent?

  “What if I run?” I ask. He shoots me an overly confidant smirk, and pulls out a tiny unit from his pocket that looks like a detonator.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got that under control. You see, Evan, your technician, has placed a new program of Nano-machines into your bloodstream. If you so much as think about running off, all I need to do is press this little button and your body will be paralyzed immediately until we collect you and administer the antidote. We’ve also equipped you with state-of-the-art tracking devices so that we’ll always know exactly where you are!” His tone is almost jovial, like a kid in a candy shop explaining all of the new treats, instead of horrifying body mods.

  So, this is it. Even though I’m no longer locked up, I’m still not free. I’m just Rupert’s toy now. I have to do as he commands. When I don’t answer, he holds up his thumb, hovering just an inch above the detonator.

  “Would you like to try it out? I’ve heard the paralysis is actually quite painful,” he offers. I shake my head quickly. Essa was right. It isn’t time yet. Nowhere close. I can’t do anything until I figure out how to disable Rupert’s contraptions.

  I return to the chair, my numb legs unable to hold my body upright any longer.

  “Okay. I get it. No running. But can you at least tell me what’s been going on while I’ve been… incarcerated?” I quip. Rupert motions for Tor, Essa, and Rassler to sit on the sofa behind him and he pulls up a chair so that he’s seated across from me. The stench of his cologne mixed with lingering cigar makes me want to choke. He clears his throat.

  “Well, as you know, H004, or Gabriel as he is called, has rallied most of the Harpies behind him for new leadership. This has caused a lot of chaos in Ehvelar, and we’ve been right there to pick up the pieces.

  “You see, Piper, when a government or ruling body becomes unstable, the people don’t know who to trust. Anarchy assumes place, and the armies and protectors lose their strength. This has worked out to be a great advantage for us. The population is not on guard. Now is the time to strike.”

  His words course through me, and my blood runs cold. This is it. This is the beginning of the war we’ve all been dreading.

  “You’re starting the war,” I state. A steady smile remains stuck to Rupert’s lips, but I can’t help but notice the almost imperceptible beads of sweat on his forehead. He doesn’t know if we can win.

  “The war has been going on for years. Now we’re taking action,” Tor butts in. I raise my glance to his. The anger in his eyes radiates toward me.

  “And if we don’t win?” I counter. I’m expecting a lapse in response, but Rupert is prepared.

  “We have safety measures in place. For the past decade we have been building compounds, much like the one you’ve been living in. If we must, there is a switch that will lock these areas down forever. Most of the space has already been purchased,” he explains.

  By all of the wealthy denizens of the Underground, of course, but he doesn’t bother adding that. The rest of us will be left to chance, left to a terrible death by Harpy extremists. I can hear the screams of terror in my mind. I slam my eyes shut, willing the sounds to fade away.

  I don’t even want to ask the question burning on my lips. What about us? What about Asher and Myra and Shelley and Grier and Sandy? I already know what the answer will be.

  Rupert brings his hand forward, and I flinch as he strokes the side of my cheek.

  “I know it’s been rough for you recently, but I’ve only been trying to prepare you, to make you as strong as possible. It’s been a long day. Essa will escort you to your new lodgings. I would suggest you shower and catch up on your sleep. Tomorrow we will talk more about everything and I think you will come to realize what side you should be on.”

  He kisses me gently on the forehead and strides out of
the room, Tor and Rassler on his heels. The door closes, and then it’s just me and Essa. She rushes toward me; I must be trembling.

  “He’s psychotic,” I whisper. Essa strokes a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “You haven’t seen the worst of it,” she replies. Her eyes stare past me, to an unknown place filled with terror I’ve yet to imagine. Then she suddenly snaps out of it.

  “Let’s get you to your room. You look like you could use a nice, long shower.”

  Dust slides past my feet on the wind as we trudge through the wasteland. Both Essa and I are completely suited in anti-rad gear, and every step seems like we’re travelling on an alien planet.

  Surrounding the main entrance to Central and the guard tower is nothing but dead earth; pale and wispy, patterned with the petrified remains of what were once majestic trees.

  Off in the distance there is a hint of green; the Fresh-Air Compounds Elder Corp is building for the rich; areas enclosed with filtering glass so that only pure air can exist within. They look like massive snow globes, though I doubt I’ll ever see the inside of one.

  Beside me, Essa huffs impatiently.

  “Why didn’t we ask for a buggy or something? This wind is unreal,” she complains.

  “And how are we supposed to remain hidden while driving a cart around?” I counter. Sweat is already building inside my suit. The hot sun glares at us, defying us for coming above ground.

  Our plans are haphazard at best. We couldn’t let anyone know where we were going or why, and our search is going to be worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack; we have an entire world to explore.

  But we trudge along, and soon enough Central Tower is no longer in sight; we are alone in the wild.

  “Have you been up here before?” I ask. I motion for Essa to stop, to take a break beneath the shade of a massive rock. She shakes her head.

  “No, I’ve only done VR Mods. I’m sure you’ve been up here like a hundred times,” she remarks. I burst out laughing despite myself.

  “You think they let just anybody up here? It costs the Corp a fortune.” Seeing her hurt expression, I add, “I’ve only been up here once or twice, and never as far as we are now. The tower has too many defense features. Even the most feral of Harpies know they don’t stand a chance.”

  The shade is glorious after the scorching walk, and the sun is finally starting to set. I’d forgotten how blistering the real sun is; underground the temperature is always perfect.

  “Look at that,” Essa murmurs. I follow her gaze to the horizon. The sky is illuminated in pinks and reds and dusky purples. The colors explode and melt together; a tapestry of the death of the sun. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I guess we really can’t replicate everything,” I reply in a whisper.

  We move onward, silent from nature’s embrace. My mind tumbles through thoughts and images: Tor, David, the Harpy I’d let live. Shards of guilt shoot through my stomach, but there is no such thing as going back to the past; I know that, at least.

  Night is just starting to darken the sky when I hear it; the slightest of noises. I raise a hand to halt Essa in her place, and motion for her to keep quiet. I close my eyes to let the sounds travel to my ear.

  There is the crackle of fire; something I’ve only heard once or twice in real life; the crunch of sand as feet dance through them; the whoosh of twirling fabric; the giggling of a small child, then the hushing back to near-silence.

  I gesture in the direction of the sounds with my eyes, and Essa follows my lead. Ahead of us there is a rocky crag, and my senses tell me that the beings are beneath, half-hidden in the shelter of the rock.

  Our suits make only the slightest of noise as we creep forward to the apex of the rocks. Just as the crackling of the fire becomes loud enough, we drop to the ground, crawling across sharp rocks and slimy algae.

  My heart beats like crazy as we reach the tip of the rock. The scene is probably fifty feet below us, but my mind races as if it’s mere inches away.

  A Harpy family.

  They surround the fire, their wings hanging gracefully above them. The children are both girls, who wear twirling skirts as they dance about the fire. The father is garbed in a shaggy shirt and slacks, while the mother remains seated on the ground, skirt spread around her as she skins some meat that I hope to hell isn’t Human.

  What the hell are they doing living so close to Central? And why is there just one family? All of our studies have shown Harpies to travel in large groups, with a hierarchy of alpha and beta males and females. This family is entirely different. They don’t look vicious; they look… happy.

  For a moment it’s like I’m watching a vid-screen; a documentary about the idyllic life of nomad aliens on another planet.

  But then Essa’s foot slips—only an inch—but I know the sound is enough to break the silence.

  Immediately the mother Harpy snarls, and her face contorts to a wicked, ugly glower as her gaze searches for us.

  “Let’s move,” I whisper.

  My body takes over; no room for thought or speculation. We leap from the crag, gravel and rock spilling beneath us. Essa pulls out her pistols and as soon as she lands, aims for the father Harpy’s head.

  Her first shot misses, but her second is dead on, burrowing into the forehead of the Harpy. His angry scowl remains as his body withers and crumbles into dust. The bullet cap clinks as it lands on a slab of granite.

  On my end, I face the mother. Immediately it’s clear that she’s the leader of the family. She lunges for me, her gray wings shaking and her sharp teeth bared.

  I dodge her attack, grabbing a dagger from my boot and lashing out at her, but I miss. She cackles as she glides just shy of my blade, and her wings lift her into the air.

  A quick glance sideways confirms that one of the children is dead, and Essa is combating the other, chasing her across the dusty ground.

  I sheath my dagger and pull out my crossbow from my back holster. I’ve only got one chance at this before she leaves her child behind and flies off into the night.

  I steady my footing and nock a bolt. She darts back and forth, almost in a figure-eight fashion.

  How am I going to do this?

  But then her child cries out in fear, and for just a moment, the mother Harpy lets her guard down, eyes searching for her baby.

  I take my chance and release the bolt. It sinks in just to the left of her heart. She wails once she realizes what has happened, and tries to pull the bolt out from her chest.

  She’s too late, though. The poison from the bolt has already activated in her blood stream. Her cry is cut off as her body disintegrates, showering ash over us from the sky. I exhale in relief, then Essa’s voice sounds.

  “Piper,” she says. I look over to her. The remaining Harpy child is in front of her, eyes wide with fear at the sight of her family’s deaths. She does not run or growl or attempt an attack. She cries. Tears run down her cheeks. Essa eyes me, showing me she’s completely unsure of what to do.

  We both just stare at the child. I’ve never seen any Harpy—child or otherwise—cry before. Something like pity moves in my chest, but I know I’m not allowed to feel that.

  But there is something I can do.

  I walk toward her slowly, ready to strike even though all she does is stare at me with tear-filled eyes.

  “Where are the others?” I ask simply. She whimpers, but Essa holds up a readied pistol. She’s old enough to know what that means.

  “We left,” she replies. Her voice is light and soft, like cotton candy at a carnival.

  “Why?” I continue.

  “Mama and Papa don’t—didn’t—like them. We’re different from them.”

  “Where are the others?” I repeat forcefully. She sobs, sniffles, then points east.

  “That way. That’s where the others live. There are lots of them. Please let me go,” she says. She’s given us all of the information we need.

  An encampment is s
et of east of the Harpy capital. I look at Essa, who returns my gaze pleadingly. She can’t do it. I can tell that much.

  I sigh deeply, then rush up to the girl, snapping her neck. I know she’ll only be unconscious for seconds, so I whip out my dagger and slit her throat. She fades away in my arms, her dust carried away by the wind.

  After that, there is only silence beyond the crackling fire. I answer before Essa has a chance to ask.

  “She didn’t feel anything. She was unconscious.” Still, Essa shivers, holding herself.

  “I couldn’t do it. I’m sorry, it was just the look in her eyes,” she murmurs. I stand up and place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s never easy to kill a child. Even a Harpling,” I confide. She nods as we gather ourselves for the night, but her gaze remains far off into the night sky.

  “We’ll sleep here tonight. You take first watch. You never know if there were others,” I say.

  I leave Essa to her thoughts as I lie down beside the fire. Secretly, those young eyes are still staring at me, still pleading for me to let her live.

  I fall asleep with her delicate voice just bouncing around through my mind.

  5

  I stand in the shower until the hot water burns my skin. It’s been so long, and I scrub and scrub and scrub, tears running down my face, blending in with the shower water. I need to cleanse myself of the cell and the experiments. Fat bruises cover my arms from needle-pricks.

  Finally alone, the reality of what I’ve been through courses through my mind. I curl up into a ball at the bottom of the shower, letting myself sob. Letting myself get it all out; Asher, imprisonment, the trips, the stings, the dirt… the hopelessness I’ve been feeling this entire time.

  Asher’s face springs to my mind, and I remember the warmth of his touch after he found me once, sitting in cold water. How he’d saved me, and continues to save me, even if it’s just the memory of him; the hope of seeing him again.