Finally I turn off the shower and use a bright white towel to dry myself off. The soft texture gently cleans the dead skin away, cleans everything away. I find myself in the bathroom mirror and stare into my own eyes. I am clean. I am strong. I am new.
The room they’ve given me feels like a mansion compared to my cell, and I pull on fresh new clothes: khaki cargos and a plain midnight blue t-shirt. They’ve even left me a pair of flat sneakers. Essa must have done the shopping—everything is to my taste.
Despite my swirling mind, all I want to do is sleep, but as I trudge toward the bed, I notice a thick packet on the bedside table. I flick on the table lamp and grab the packet, laying the files inside out on the bed like a deck of cards.
There are reports, photos, cases—everything I’ve missed while I’d been locked away. A small group of Harpies made it past the dead cities and killed a group of homeless nomads before they were taken down. The news of this, the latest infiltration, went viral, despite the Corp’s every effort to keep it quiet. Shelley’s mischievous grin sprouts in my mind. The Val Halla resistance probably had something to do with that.
After the infiltration, there were riots in Central and some of the other large cities. The Human citizens were frightened and angry. Where were their tax dollars going if not to build the Hunter Division?
That’s when they started the public executions. Hunters were sent out to the Deadlands and the Wasteland to capture rogue Harpies alive, just to bring back to the execution square where the citizens would mill around to watch how the Corp was in control. The thought of it makes me sick.
I flip through cases and cases of rogue Harpies and Gabriel’s rise to take over the throne. More and more the Harpy population is dividing. Many want Gabriel to take over the throne, even if it means the disintegration of years of procedure. His mission is to solidify Harpies as the top of the food chain, as masters of the world. There is a file of its own stuffed with photos of him.
I study these, curious at how similar and yet different he looks compared to Asher. Where Ash is dark, Gabe is fair. He has the same angular face, the same pale skin, and yet he emits so much evil. His bright green eyes bore into me as I stare into them. So many Harpies have rallied behind him; it is actually a possibility that he might overthrow his mother and the rest of the monarchy.
Darcy was nowhere to be seen in any of these files, I notice. Some notes speculate she has returned to the wild, but I can’t be so sure. She was behind Gabe one hundred percent, as far as I knew. Why wouldn’t she be with him, supporting him?
The next file is small and has barely any information in it, and for a moment I think it might have been mistakenly given to me. It’s a copy of a file about the Harpies who opposed Gabe. A short document, it outlines that certain factions have risen, with Harpies who wanted a new way of life, who didn’t want to fight with Humans.
Small tears sprout from my eyes as I read the short document. A group of Harpies have even set up camp miles away from Ehvelar, feasting on wild game instead of Humans, or the occasional volunteer Human, usually old or sick. Deer and bear are more common in the mountains to the north, where the radiation hasn’t spread as much, but are impossible to set up colonies on due to their jagged peaks.
Then a tiny note falls out of the folder, landing on the plush duvet I’m sitting on. My breath catches in my throat. I reach my fingers for it tentatively, somehow knowing that this paper is secret; just for me.
I recognize his handwriting immediately, and my heart pounds in my chest. I read the note again and again, until I have it memorized.
Red. There isn’t time for all I want to say. I am alive. I will wait for you. Every night I fall asleep with you in my mind. There is no goodbye for us. Come back to me.
So short, so simple, and yet the words reach down into my gut and twist them. I hold the paper to my chest, knowing that he touched this, that right now I am closer to him than I have been in so long.
But I can’t stay here forever. A rapping on my door confirms this. I struggle with the files, trying to hide the one I know I’m not meant to look at. I’m about to call out for my visitor to wait for just a moment, but the door swings open, revealing Rupert.
I stare at him from the bed, the note tucked away in the files. His lips part in a smile when he sees me.
“Already to work, I see,” he says. My heart is pounding. I struggle to breathe properly, to not give away my emotions.
“A lot has happened,” I reply. Just this statement strikes me as how much I’ve changed. Normally I would have screamed at him, telling him to get out until I was ready for him to enter. But I don’t have that right anymore. Or maybe I just don’t have that strength.
He looks out the window, where the Holo-sun is setting, fading from bright oranges to deep indigo.
“We have a big event scheduled for tomorrow,” he mentions. I turn my eyes away from the window, keeping my gaze on him.
“Another public execution?” I quip back. He shakes his head, his smile turning from proud to sad.
“You don’t understand, Piper. There are too many Human lives at risk. We can’t let them gain any ground. If they do… then we may all be in serious trouble,” he says. I raise an eyebrow.
“You don’t think this team you’ve amassed can handle it?”
For the first time in a long time he looks at me, really looks at me, and his eyes gleam only truth.
“I don’t know. That all depends on you.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” I retort. He chuckles sardonically.
“It’s true, Piper, whether you want to believe it or not. You’re a valuable asset,” he replies.
“Why? Because you’ve loaded my blood with so many Nano-machines I’m probably not even a Hunter anymore?” I stare at him, keeping my eyes even with his.
“That’s part of it, but there’s so much that you don’t know, that you can’t know. You just have to trust me.”
Trust him? Right, because that’s the most obvious path to travel. All I am is an object to him, an asset.
“I’m really tired,” I murmur instead of arguing back. What’s the point anyway? It’s not like I have a choice at this point. Even the resistance isn’t ready for me. I just hope I don’t have to commit any terrible acts before all is said and done. I’m tired of being a killer.
“I get the hint, don’t worry,” Rupert replies, his hands held up as if in surrender. “But I thought I would give you a treat for your good behavior,” he adds.
Despite my disdain for being treated like a dog, I can’t help but me intrigued. I nod at him, urging him to continue.
“Your Harpy is out there somewhere. That much we know. He’s alive, even if no one knows where he is,” Rupert states. My heart flips.
“What do you mean no one knows where he is?” I repeat. Rupert just smiles, knowing he’s caught me in his trap.
“Perhaps with some more good behavior I’ll be able to offer you more little… treats. Does that sound like a good trade?”
I don’t have the energy to reply. He lets himself out of the room and locks me inside. My breathing is heavy as I lie on the bed, trying to process this. Where could he be? How does the Corp even know if he’s alive?
I sit up and rummage through my folders and notes, leaving most of the pages littered along the bed until I find the tiny note. I hold it close to my chest once again. He’s out there. That’s all that’s important.
If he’s out there, I can find him.
I fall asleep with the lights on, holding the paper like my only child.
I am woken by the smallest of sounds. For a moment I forget where I am—why is there so much dust everywhere? Then last night comes into focus, and I remember the Harpy family and the child who I murdered.
I open my eyes slightly, trying to keep my body as still as possible. Essa sleeps soundly beside me. Damn, she didn’t wake me up for my watch. The feeling that someone is watching us pervades me.
Slowly, I reach into my
boot for my knife, but before I can even whirl around, the being is upon me, holding me down with a thick wooden pole. My eyes widen. It’s a young girl, her head shaved, her body covered in tattoos.
She’s from the temple; that much I can tell. Based on her tattoos, it seems she’s quite the warrior. And she looks like she wants me dead.
“Who are you?” she demands before I can say or do anything. Essa mumbles beside me, but doesn’t wake up. She must have fallen asleep during her watch. I try to speak, but the girl’s pole is jammed too tight against my throat. Seeing this, she releases it, ever so slightly.
“I’m a Hunter with Elder Corp,” I reply, voice harsh and croaking. She glares. Looks like that was the wrong answer.
“And you are loyal to Rupert Elder?” she says with a sneer. My face feels like it’s going blue from lack of oxygen. I tell myself I don’t really have a choice right now; I have to shake my head, no.
Slowly she backs off, making sure that I don’t run away before she sets me completely free. I lean over and pound Essa on the back. She struggles awake, her first sight the end of the temple girl’s pole.
“If you are Hunters, then how can you work for such a man as Rupert Elder?” the girl asks. Essa looks over at me hopefully, but I have nothing to give back to her.
“We have no choice,” I reply. This much is true, at least. It’s not like we have the ability to choose who our boss is.
“Both of you need to go home to your tunnels. That’s the only place for people like you,” she spits. Essa looks like she’s about to say something back but I wave her off.
“We’ll leave you in peace,” I say.
We gather up our things ensuring all of our weapons are in place before we retreat back to Central. Before we’re over the hill and out of sight, though, a strange feeling runs through me. I stop dead when I reach the apex of the hill.
Temple warriors; at least thirty of them, stand in our path, their weapons—either poles or javelins—ready to strike. I look to Essa, whose eyes are lined with fear.
“We don’t just let Elder Corp Hunters waltz onto our land and leave without questioning. You should know that,” the warrior girl pipes up from behind us.
There’s nothing we can do. They round us up and shackle our hands together with thick leather straps. Thankfully, Essa remains silent. Opening our mouths at this point would only make things much worse… if that were even possible.
If I thought the Wasteland was like being on another planet, it doesn’t even compare to the Temple village. Built into a small rocky mountain, the village consists of a series of caves stuffed with huts made from found materials: shards of metal, petrified tree bark, ropes and curtains made from scavenged trash, and what smells like rotting vegetable matter.
Beyond the occasional street sign or airplane cabin that I recognize from children’s books, it looks like they’ve gone to great lengths to create this place. It’s colorful and vivid and, in its own way, beautiful.
At least, I would think that if I weren’t tied up with my arms wrapped around an old post. My hands are strapped together with old tree bark which tightens and burns every time I move my hands. My shoulders ache from being held back, and Essa and I have been separated. I don’t even know if she’s okay.
After trying to loosen the hold on me, I finally give up. My skin is blistered and bloody, I can feel it, and the citizens of the village walk past me, staring only with mild curiosity. None of them wear anti-radiation masks, and none of them appear ill. I wonder if it’s the mountain air, or if the earth really is recuperating faster than expected.
Sweaty and exhausted, I’m almost filled with relief when the young girl approaches me with a middle-age man with hundreds of spiraling tattoos, and an impossibly old woman. Her hair is long and white, and her skin wrinkled from age and sun. I’ve never seen someone so old.
“This is the other one,” the girl explains. The other two stare at me, sizing me up.
“You. What are you called?” the old woman says. I don’t even know if I have the energy to speak.
“Piper,” I muster finally. My voice is crackling, almost wheezy.
“She and the other were found with a family of slain Harpies. We have their weapons. They work for Rupert Elder,” the girl continues. A look of rotten disdain appears on all of their faces at the mention of his name. What has Rupert done to these people to make them hate him so much? Doesn’t he provide them with protection, even though they don’t live underground?
“Please, untie my hands,” I beg. The sores throb worse now, and more so with each passing moment. The young girl shakes her head, but the old woman scolds her with her eyes.
“Fig, give the girl some blackroot to help with the pain. Don’t be so cruel. Even Hunters experience pain and regret,” she says. The girl—Fig—reaches into her woven pockets and pulls out a carved wooden jar with a sticky black substance inside. Begrudgingly she instructs me to hold out my tongue.
I obey, and even though the blackroot tastes like ash and rot, I feel immediate relief in my hands, then through the rest of my body. I feel almost like I am floating. I still catch the strangeness of the woman’s words, though. Even Hunters feel pain and regret.
“What is the extent of your mission for Rupert Elder?” the man chimes in once Fig has stepped back in line with them. My lips are smiling, and I feel a bit silly.
“We are looking for a missing Harpy,” I reply. The three look at each other, sharing some knowledge I can’t decipher.
“What were you instructed to do if you found such a Harpy?” the man continued. I pondered for a moment. Everything was just so slow, now.
“Bring him in, I guess. We don’t have much of a lead. Do you know where he is?” I ask. They seem like nice enough people. Maybe they’ll help me.
“Brin, she can’t answer anything right now. She’s had too much blackroot. Look at her eyes. They’re barely open,” the old woman says. She is their leader, I realize, even though she is so old. She must have some sort of power to be able to scold the powerful-looking Brin and agile Fig. What funny names.
“I understand, Sage Eir, but we need to obtain information before Elder sends reinforcements. Surely in this state she will be more… generous with her information,” he says. Sage Eir looks at him sharply.
“And you propose such a tactic? Remember that we abide by nature’s rules, not man’s.”
“You said your name was Piper. Tell me, what is Rupert Elder planning? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I swear, but we need to know. We need to protect our people,” Fig pipes up. The dark eyes I’d found so fierce before were now kind and caring. She reminds me of my younger self, when I was still in training and believed in things.
“No one ever knows Rupert’s plans. We just follow orders. That’s all I can really tell you. He has never mentioned anything about harming the Temple. I don’t think you have to worry,” I say sleepily.
“This may be the truth,” Sage Eir states.
“How can you be sure?” Brin cuts in.
“Because I know of this Hunter. She is one of Elder’s core team. If he were planning on assaulting us or taking our resources, she would be one of the only Hunters who might have overheard. Let her rest. Tomorrow we free them.”
They walk away, leaving me against the post, stars before my eyes. I don’t know if I slip into sleep or not. I see only wonderful and beauteous color, and my body sings in harmony with it.
“You need to get out of here.”
I open my eyes. I am still in the Temple Village, but the sky has gone dark, and no fires warm the huts. The moon casts the only light. Crouching below me, a dark-haired guy saws at my shackles with a thick knife. He looks up at me, and those blue eyes nearly stop my heart.
The Harpy from the underground. What is he doing here? Before I can ask, my hands are freed, which is both excruciatingly painful and yet fantastic at the same time, and he lunges up, placing his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t make any noise. They don’t know I’m here,” he whispers. He looks around, his dark wings tucked close to his back, shining in the moonlight. He drops his hand as soon as I calm down.
“Why?” is all I can muster. I’m weak from the blackroot and lack of food. He looks me straight in the eye, sending my heart reeling. I’m so close to danger right now, but this danger is also my freedom. Talk about rocks and hard places.
“This village… it’s not what it seems like. They might seem like they’re just anti-Elder, but they’re really just anti-Hunter. They will kill you once they’ve gotten all of the information they can about the Corp’s plans,” he says. I’m still oblivious.
“You didn’t answer my question.” His gaze doesn’t waver.
“An eye for an eye. You could have easily called out that day in New Victory, but you didn’t. So I’m here to return the favor. Here,” he says, handing me the blade he’d used to cut me free. “Use this to free your friend, then get out of here as quickly and quietly as possible. These people are not your equals, no matter what they tell you. Hunter to them means not Human, which makes you like me.”
“But how did you find me?” I stammer, but he just shakes his head.
“Don’t worry about it. Forget you ever saw me,” he murmurs. Then he lifts his wings and flies off into the night.
In the stillness, all I can do is question myself. Even though I’m weak, I still let the Harpy go without even trying to fight him. Then again, he did just release me from what could have been my death. Urgency returns to me. I have to find Essa.
I creep around the village, avoiding the huts and any areas where fires are kept and where there may be metal tools or scrap that could make noise. Soon enough I find Essa bound to a post, similar to how I was. She’s awake, and her eyes widen as she sees me. Thankfully she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
I cut her loose, cringing at the sight of both of our wrists; torn up and bleeding. It’ll probably take a few days for these wounds to heal. I gesture at her with a nod of my head that we should get out of here. She nods, and we both tiptoe through the camp.
Wasteland (Flight) Page 5