Wasteland (Flight)

by Lindsay Leggett

  “You are all leagues greater than any man or woman I have ever met. Your bravery stands not only for the lives outside of the Underground, but also for the lives trapped inside, completely unaware of the life they could be living. That they could breathe fresh air or stand among trees. That they could be caressed by the wind and cleansed by the rain. That they could live as we were always meant to. It is for them, as well as for us, that we must vanquish Elder’s Empty soldiers, and free mankind!” The crowd rallies with him, their faces beaming courage and purpose. The energy is high and hopeful, and even I can feel it.

  The captain stands dutifully, then notices me from the corner of his eye. He brushes hands with his soldiers before moving to meet me. Frankly, his presence surprises me. My own heart has been uplifted by his words, from his call to arms.

  “News from the Base?” he asks breathlessly. His eyes shine honey-brown beneath his heavy and determined brows. I shake my head, no.

  “Nothing to report. I’m here to help. I want to be a part of your army,” I reply. He raises his brows in surprise.

  “You? I’m sure you must be needed by Commander Grier and the rest. Why would you come here to fight?”

  “Because I want to. I belong here, fighting. Please, place me in your lines,” I beg. He looks off to the side, as if pondering whether or not this situation is real. He turns back to me.

  “If you want to fight, then I welcome you gladly. But the road will be long and hard. There will be death and carnage. I’m not doubting your skills in any way, but I want you to be sure that you’re ready. Joining the battle is wedding yourself to the cause. This becomes your life, and you must be willing to die fighting for it,” he says.

  Flashes of all that has happened appear before me. David. Shelley. Sandy. Grier. Dodge. Gamma. Mura.

  Asher.

  I nod firmly. “My life is the fight.”

  Captain Fife takes my hand, shaking it firmly. “Welcome, then, Piper Madden. Find yourself a bunk. Drop by here tonight, and we can discuss the battle over dinner.”

  He releases my hand and marches into the fray, the smoke from the fire swallowing his receding figure. I look around me, taking in every sight and smell of this compound and the people around me.

  This is my home now.

  This is my fight.

  Asher isn’t in his room when Dodge returns me. I take a look out the open window, watching Harpies soar between the buildings below me. The sun is setting, sending a wash of orange light over everything.

  I move to the kitchenette to find something to drink when I see a note on the counter in a scratchy scrawl.

  Meet me in the library. Third door on the left.

  -A

  I splash my face with cold water from a wooden basin, prepping myself for what may be next. I step tentatively out of the room and lounge, but the guards don’t seem to notice or care about me. I take a left and follow the hallway.

  Portraits hang on the walls. Ciar, in her dark glory. Asher’s father, stark white with flowing hair. Then the three children. Asher is a bit younger here, with a haunted gaze on his face. Darcy beside him looks bored and impatient. Her mousy hair hangs past her shoulders. She’s the perfect mixture of mother and father; the gray between their black and white. Beside her is the last child, Gabriel. His face is menacing, angry, and confident all at the same time. He’s more angular than Asher, sharper. His bright green eyes hold a terrifying madness.

  The thought of him being so close to me makes me shiver, and I hustle down the hall. The third door is actually farther than I thought it would be. These doors are, of course, heavy wood, like the Empress’s. One is cracked open. I pull it the rest of the way with my hand.

  The room before me holds a massive library. The walls are lined with shelves; layers of shelves with ladders and balconies. Each book must be hundreds of years old, but the musty smell of them is comforting, like this is the safest place in the world.

  I stride in, glancing at the different-colored spines surrounding me. I find Asher deep within the shelves, by a window letting in the soft light of dusk. His dark hair hangs over his face as he peers over a massive tome with yellowed pages.

  “I met your mother,” I call. He looks up, smiling at me.

  “And you came out alive.”

  I cock an eyebrow at him. “Was there a chance I wouldn’t?”

  “Never,” he says. I join him at the reading table, looking over his shoulder at the book.

  “The Fault of Power,” I recite. Asher pushes the book away as I sit beside him.

  “This was one of my father’s favorites. I’ve been trying to decipher it, to try to figure out what he did to me.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. He gestures to his book, where I can see the tips of his serpentine scar.

  “It never heals, you know. It’s the only memory I have left of him,” he murmurs. His expression is caught between anger and melancholy.

  “What happened to him?”

  He looks at me, eyes dark. “I killed him.”

  I can’t say anything for a moment. This wasn’t something I was expecting. At the Corp, we’d all thought H000 had disappeared, but no one speculated his death. Harpies didn’t just die on their own. “I didn’t know that was possible,” I say.

  Asher turns his faze forward, focusing on nothing. “It shouldn’t be. The only other way to kill a Harpy is to separate the head from the rest of the body, and even then it only takes so long before the body regenerates, But with Dad it was different. He became ill, like his soul was being drained from him. The last time I saw him was in this room. I don’t remember much beyond excruciating pain, and then it ended. He fell to the ground and shrivelled up before my eyes. He was nothing but bone by the time my mother arrived,” he says. His voice is somber, and I can’t begin to imagine what that would feel like, to feel responsible for the death of a loved one.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “Thank you, but it’s in the past. There’s nothing I can do now but try to figure it all out before I ascend to the throne. If I can solve it, then maybe I can lead my people as strongly as he did.”

  I can see it in his strained eyes how much work he has put into this, how his siblings must treat him, and why he needed to pretend to disappear.

  “So what’s in the book?”

  “Stories,” Asher replies. “Tales, history, theories of power and how it can be transferred. There are notes all over the margins in this book. They all relate to the energy within the soul, and the possibilities that could arise by compounding them.”

  “Souls, you mean?”

  “Yes. I believe my father harvested the souls of others to transplant into himself, and then into me. The last soul he transferred was his own. He gave up his power, his life, to create me.”

  “But you aren’t…” I begin.

  “Frightening?” Asher jokes. I roll my eyes.

  “You aren’t feral, or monstrous. I heard Darcy howling in your mother’s chambers, like she was wild, but you’re nothing like her,” I continue.

  Asher lets out a quick chuckle. “Not always. Not yet. Darcy decided to take a Wilding, to find the beast within herself. When she came back, she was nothing but an animal. But I’m not always in control, Piper. Sometimes a demon comes over me, and I lose every modicum of civility I have. I’ve killed, I’ve feasted; I’ve ransacked rooms and halls and villages. There’s another side of me that is dangerous and far too powerful. I hope you never have to see it.”

  I picture Asher angry, using his hard muscles and sharp talons to maim and murder and feed, but it doesn’t look right in my mind. To me, he can only be the Asher I see now: calm, focused, inquisitive, and slightly sad.

  “You’re wrong. I see no monster within you. You’re a sparrow. Your heart is worth more than any person I’ve ever met,” I saw.

  “Sparrow,” he repeats, chuckling. “I haven’t heard that one before. I’m not proud of what lies within me, but I won’t stop. I won’t give u
p on trying to destroy it.”

  “We all have demons within us. It’s a part of who we are.”

  He looks at me, his lips spread wise over his previously pained expression. “I think I’ve rubbed off on you,” he says. I smile back.

  “I think you have, too.”

  He quickly leans over the table, catching my lips with his. My body buzzed and I push back. I crawl over the table to be closer to him, and his fingers weave through my hair. Then he stops me, studies me.

  “I never thought I’d meet anyone like you. I want you to know that,” he says breathlessly.

  “I didn’t either. But I’m glad I did,” I whisper back. The light from the sun has nearly disappeared. I want Asher to kiss me deeply again, but he gives me a single peck on the tip of my nose.

  “I need to get you back home before they send an army to collect you,” he says. I should be happy, but I’m not. Never before have I felt so liberated and free. Or afraid to go back to my old life.

  “When will I see you again?”

  His smile is so addictive, I just want to melt into it.

  “Every second I can,” he replies. “But right now it’s time to go. Are you ready?”

  I nod. I grab my weapons from his bedroom, making sure I haven’t left anything behind.

  “Wait… how are we getting there?”

  Asher grins wickedly and points to the open window.

  “By air, of course.”

  Asher leaves me at the closest entrance to Central—the tower. He drops me off just out of sight. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him fiercely until he takes my breath away.

  “We’ll be together again. Soon,” he whispers, then he takes off into the night.

  I trudge back to Central, and as soon as I reach the borders I’m assailed by two guards. I’m so tired right now I don’t even bother to resist. One of the guards pulls my ID out of my pack and blanches.

  “Sorry. Move along.” He turns his gaze to the ground.

  When I make it to Rupert’s office, everyone is already there. They’re sitting in the meeting room, outlining a plan I assume is meant to save me. I clear my throat, and even Rupert’s eyes widen at the sight of me.

  “Oh my God, Piper!” Essa exclaims.

  “I’m okay,” I manage to mumble. Then I notice something wrong. David isn’t here, and Tor sits in his usual place. He leaps up and wraps his arms around me. His touch feels cold and alien to me, but I force myself to squeeze him back.

  “You have no idea how scared I was,” he whispers in my ear. I gently push him away, forcing a smile.

  “Where’s David?” I ask. They all look at each other, playing Russian Roulette with their eyes. Finally Essa gives in.

  “He’s out looking for you. When we escaped, he refused to come back until he found you.”

  “So he’s out in the Wasteland?”

  This entire time I’ve been just fine in the Harpy city, while my friends and brother have been worried sick. I wouldn’t be surprised if they could see the guilt steaming off of me.

  “Call off the mission and the search. She’s here,” Rupert reports into his walkie.

  “What’s the mission?” I eye the diagram up on the screen. It’s of the Harpy city, with stations set up around the gates. “Were you going to invade the city?”

  “Sit down, Piper,” Rupert commands. I drop into the nearest chair, the others sitting around me. “You’ve missed a lot the past two days.”

  Rupert moved back to the front of the room and lights a fresh cigar. “First of all, I need you to know how happy I am that you are here and safe. I can also say that it is a relief that we do not need to strike the city.”

  Smoke billows form his mouth. The notion that they would jumpstart the war to rescue me still hasn’t sunk in. And David is out there somewhere. I can only hope he heard Rupert calling off the search.

  “Now that you’re here, I would like to let you know that the infiltration was a success. Even though you did not carry out the entire plan, we have stirred up the Harpies enough that they know not to fuck with us.”

  He presses a button on the wall. “Charlene, send Atwood in,” he says. The doors opens and the tech saunters in. His posture is straight and his gaze is level and serious. Rupert walks to meet him and pats him on the back. “A job well done, Atwood.”

  Sandy smiles politely. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I’ve brought you in here for a reason. Your work has made it possible for us to develop a whole new field of work. Come work for us, here in Central,” Rupert says.

  “Thank you sir, and I mean no disrespect in saying this, but I am very happy in Ichton. I gratefully decline,” Sandy responds.

  Rupert’s lip twitches, but he smiles at the tech. “Very well, for now. But perhaps another time the offer will seem more lucrative.”

  Sandy bows his head, and before he leaves, he smiles at me.

  “Good to see you back, Piper. You’ll have to tell me all about your escape.”

  I return his smile, but drop it once the door is closed. I still haven’t thought about what my escape story is. I’m hoping everyone will excuse me for going through something traumatic. Thankfully the door springs open before anyone can ask me.

  “Pie!”

  I look over at my brother, leaping into his arms. He squeezes me tight, maybe too tight. It’s a bit strange. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve been searching everywhere,” he says.

  I should feel happy, and wanted, and relieved. But I don’t. I feel everyone’s eyes on me.

  I feel judgment, and doubt. I feel Tor’s resentment at my avoidance. I feel Rupert’s frustration at being humiliated by a young tech. I feel David, still squeezing me like he’ll never let me go.

  Like I shouldn’t be let go.

  14

  Skewers of meat and cheese roast over an open fire, sending my stomach growling. I flush a little, hoping the heat of the flame will disguise it from Fife. He sits across from me, his eyes searching, inquisitive. He’s broad and strong, but there’s something about him, about the way he holds himself.

  “You’re Human, aren’t you?” I ask. He looks at the fire, smiling wryly.

  “You could tell that quickly?”

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean it that way. I just wasn’t expecting it. You lead well,” I say quickly.

  “Thank you. You know, not everyone knows that I’m not a Hunter. It isn’t that I want to keep it a secret, but sometimes the others discount me when they discover it. I sometimes feel… inadequate,” he says.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being Human, Captain Fife. Your skills come from your experience and training, not from how you were born. They come from your heart,” I say soothingly. He sighs, like he’s probably heard all of this before.

  “I must apologize,” he says. “I never meant to spill my insecurities onto you. I suppose it’s because, well… You are the face that we fight for. It is your courage that we draw upon in battle.”

  I try not to frown, but my mouth forces its way into one anyway. “It feels so bizarre whenever anyone says that. I feel like an imposter. I didn’t do anything. I was just in a cell for who knows how long with needles in my arms. I’m no inspiration,” I say. It’s strange, but it feels so relieving to get it out to someone I don’t know.

  He shakes his head at me. “You’re wrong. You had the bravery to stand up to Rupert Elder for what you believed in. You risked everything. Not many people can say that.”

  This time I laugh.

  “I did it for love. I did it all for love,” I murmur, then whisper. The Captain pulls the skewers from the fire before they burn. He hands mine to me.

  “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do, you know that, right? People need something to fight for. Even if you didn’t do what everyone says you have, they will still look to you when their courage begins to wilt. You are allowed to be proud of that. There’s nothing wrong in that,” he says. I offer him a smile, trying to let it all sink
in.

  Guilt. That’s what I’ve been feeling. Guilt that I’m not this shining symbol I’ve been made to be. But Captain Fife is right. At this point, what I have or haven’t done is irrelevant. The people have created a small legend of me, but that isn’t me. We are not the same person. The martyr they look up to exists only in their minds. And that’s okay.

  “Thank you, Captain Fife.”

  “Please. Call me Drew,” he says. I nod as I take a bite of the crispy meat.

  “Thank you, Drew. And thank you for taking me on in the fight.”

  “Ahh, yes. I suppose we ought to talk strategy,” he replies.

  “Or we could just keep talking,” I say.

  But we eat in silence, letting the crackle of the fire speak for us. We don’t need to go over plans or strategy. I know there isn’t one. The goal is just to stay alive.

  The stink of war follows me when I return to camp from the battle. Of all my years of fighting and training, nothing can possibly compare to this. So much death, blood, ashes. My body is covered in mud and dust.

  But as I reach the main fire, I’m comforted by the sight of my comrades, all filthy like me, but with ruddy smiles on their faces. They honor the dead not by mourning them, but by continuing to fight.

  I’ve never felt so much like I belong here, like this is my purpose.

  Familiar faces greet me at the fire; men and women I fought with, Harpies I watched soar overhead. They smile at me, raising their drinks. I nod. Then I see three figures in the throng I never thought I’d see again. A young girl, an old woman, and a burly man.

  I approach them quietly. Confusing runs through me. How did they live? Should I be happy they survived, or bitter that they were going to kill me?

  Fig notices me first. “It’s you,” she says. Her voice has changed, matured. She doesn’t look like the spunky girl I met so long ago, but like a determined young woman.