Flight of the Golden Harpy

by Susan Klaus

  “I am he,” Shail relayed. “Are the swarms near?”

  “In five lights they come east, my father says. I shall seek our flock leader, Seth. He shall save you.”

  “No, I do not wish to be saved,” Shail relayed, and reached back, plucking a flight feather from his wing. “The men’s weapons would destroy Seth’s flock, and I still would be caged.” Shail pushed the feather through the screen. “Listen carefully. Take my feather to your Seth, so all know we shared these words. After the beetles attack this city and the humans have fled or died, the flocks must gather and destroy the swarms with one sweeping strike. Do you understand? This must be done before the rise of the next full moons.”

  “I understand, master,” relayed the teenager.

  “Also my mate is here. She dwells in the city with two men. She and these men must be found and taken to a place of safety before the swarms come.”

  “You wish to save men?” asked the teenager.

  Shail arched his wings and growled, “You do not question. You follow.”

  The teen fell on the screen and hid his face in his arms with the threat of the raised yellow wings, the symbol of reprisal.

  Shail lowered his wings. “What is your name?”

  “Ribot, Master.”

  Shail reached through the screen and stroked the young male’s head. “Ribot, these things I say are very important. All life depends on you to deliver my words. The beetles must be destroyed before they grow too strong, and the two men protect my pregnant mate.” He glanced up at the brightening sky. “Go now before the protection of shadows is gone, and you are discovered.”

  Ribot grasped the three-foot yellow feather and bound into the gray sky.

  In the distance Shail heard many voices coming from the doors. “I shall never be hunted again.” He breathed deeply and flew toward the men gathered by his cage. He landed just beyond the extended awning. The twenty surprised men raised their weapons.

  “Don’t shoot him,” Bill yelled at his guards, animal handlers, and policemen. “A stun can bring on a heart attack. Maybe we can get him without it.”

  Shail looked at Bill. He alone longs to avenge his sibling’s death, he thought, and dauntlessly approached the large man.

  “Be careful, Mr. Simpson. It’s set its sights on you,” called a guard.

  Shail stopped twenty feet from Bill. The silence was broken only by the squawks of distant birds as the men stared in a trance. Shail waited for Bill to grasp the weapon hanging from his belt and fire a deadly blast. Taunting the man, Shail flung his head, sniffled, and paced closer, ruffling his feathers. Five feet away, Shail arched his wings and hissed, signaling a male challenge.

  “Get ready,” Bill whispered to the men. “I’ll try to grab him.”

  Bill lunged for Shail, who fluttered, struck the man’s chest with his feet, and sent the big man flying on his back. Bill hit the ground, and Shail landed close by. He paced around him, hissing to encourage him to rise.

  Bill sluggishly got up. The wind knocked out of him, he gasped for breath. Shail was only an arm’s length away. Bill again charged, his fists swinging, and Shail flapped his wings, kicking Bill’s face and again knocked him down. Much like a thin matador, the harpy hit the angry bull of a man with each pass. Bill couldn’t put his hands on Shail nor defeat him in physical combat. Shail sniffled with aversion, tempting him to fight or kill.

  “You little son-of-a-bitch,” Bill grumbled and stood up, holding his sore face.

  The men closed in, circling the two. Determined not to flee, Shail stood his ground and hissed at them to keep their distance. He brazenly strutted around Bill and teasingly flung his hair. Bill made one final attack, and Shail jumped sideward, his foot striking the man’s stomach. Bill dropped with a heavy thud and coughed. This clumsy beast is no challenge, Shail thought, growing impatient with the pathetic human. He walked behind Bill and clutched his head and neck, preparing to give him the same death as his brother.

  The twenty security guards and policemen leaped on Shail and wrestled him off the big range owner. Shail struggled briefly, kicking two men in the face, and a wing took down a third, but he was outnumbered and pinned on the ground. Lying subdued, he felt metal shackles with chains placed on his wrists and ankles.

  A couple of guards hoisted up Bill, and he breathed hard with exertion and pain. “Goddamn harpy is fast, and uses its feet like a professional boxer.” He puffed. “I see how it killed my brother.” He went to the harpy, and it insolently glared up at him, ignoring the other men who held it down. “Stand him up.”

  The men lifted Shail to his feet, and he hissed at Bill.

  “You nervy little bastard,” Bill said. “I’ll knock the shit out of you.”

  Bill struck Shail with a hard blow to the stomach, and his knees buckled. He slumped in the men’s arms and coughed. He lifted his head and angrily seethed.

  “Get him up again,” Bill growled and hit Shail’s stomach a second time. Shail breathed heavily and shook his hair. Instead of becoming meek, he felt growing rage. He fought the men’s hold, lunged toward Bill, and snapped his teeth. His defiance purposely fueled Bill’s temper, hoping to incite the man to kill.

  It was working. Bill was losing control. He again raised his fist to clobber the harpy.

  A young police officer grabbed Bill’s arm. “That’s enough,” he said. “I’ll not stand by and watch you beat him to death.”

  Bill collected himself. “Yes, I don’t want him damaged.” He stared into the harpy’s incorrigible blue eyes and turned to his men. “Put a shock collar on him and attach his chains to the bar before he’s turned loose in the cage. We’ll need some control over him.”

  Shail bit at the men’s hands when the leather collar came near, but they clutched his hair, gagged him, and fastened the tight collar laced with metal strips to his neck. They picked him up and carried him to the cage. An animal handler injected him with a heart stimulant that kept him alive. The cage was clean and filled with fresh straw. The chains held him down long enough to allow the men to exit. The cage door closed, and the chains loosened. Shail sat up in the straw and looked around. Bill and the guards went inside to prepare for the crowds.

  The young officer who stopped the beating, and another policeman approached the cage and watched him. “Sure wasn’t much of a hunt. He flew right to us,” said the other officer.

  The young officer moved closer. “I’ve never seen a harpy. Take away his wings, he’d pass as a good-looking teenager.”

  “I’ve seen a few,” said the other officer. “They’re always thin and pretty, but don’t be fooled by their looks. The thing killed three men and raped a woman, and he was just toying with the big range owner. If we hadn’t pulled it off, Simpson would also be dead. I sure wouldn’t mess with it.”

  “The female handler made conflicting statements with her story. She initially told the guards the men raped her, and the harpy was protecting her. Then changed her mind and said the harpy attacked. You know this is the first recorded case of a harpy killing men. I get the feeling this creature is getting a bad rap.”

  The other officer shrugged. “It’s possible, but animals can’t plead self-defense, and he’s been labeled a man-killer. They’re auctioning him off to hunters Monday night, and he’ll be destroyed. Look, I have to get back to the precinct.” He walked to the doors.

  The young officer gazed at the harpy and sighed. “It’s a darn shame. I think you wanted it to be over. Why else would you fly to a bunch of armed men?” He walked from the cage and was the last police officer to leave the hunting range.

  Nestled down on the straw, Shail had detected compassion in the young man. From the men’s words he learned Mollie had lied and blamed him for the rape. Shail was not unsettled by her betrayal, knowing humans lacked a harpy’s honor. He longed for Mollie’s presence and soothing hands. She was devoted to him and must have had reasons for her falseness. Normally he would have beaten Gus within an inch of his life to protect
Mollie, but he had taken the attack one step further and killed; revenge, the motivation.

  His fear was gone, but replaced with hate. Shail understood fear, a common emotion in animals, but hate perplexed him. Only men could create the unnatural feelings in a harpy. Even in a male challenge, the harpies didn’t harbor evil feelings toward one another. I prefer fear over the killing lust, he thought. I have truly lost the harpy in me.

  * * *

  Bill and an animal handler walked up to his cage. Shail slightly lifted his head off the straw and seethed, feeling the wrath to lash out. With each exhale, he released a venomous sizzle and glared at the man from the center of the cage.

  “If he wasn’t worth so much,” Bill said to the handler, “I’d knock that hostile look right off his cute little face.” He picked up the harpy’s stimulant drug. “Inject him with this tomorrow morning. Don’t want his heart stopping.”

  Once Bill lowered his gaze, Shail flew off the straw and crashed against the cage. He managed to seize Bill’s neck and slam his head against the bars. Swiftly wrapping one of his wrist chains around the man’s throat, he tugged and cut off Bill’s air. The handler was so shocked by the sudden attack he froze for a moment.

  “His collar,” Bill choked as his eyes bulged with the throttling. The handler grabbed a remote near the cage door and pressed keys.

  The collar’s electrical charge, similar to Gus’s rod, hit Shail’s neck, and he let go of the chain and doubled over in the straw, pulling and clawing at the painful leather.

  Seeing the subdued harpy, the handler released the shock key and freed Bill from the chain. “Are you okay, Mr. Simpson?”

  Bill scrambled away from the cage, gasping. A safe distance from the cage, he placed his hands on his bent knees and tried to catch his breath. He finally stood and fingered the slice on his throat.

  Shail shook his head and yanked on the hard and fast collar. The pain eased, and he rose. Looking intently at Bill, he lividly hissed and paced the cage, whipping the rattling wrist chains against the bars.

  “That’s one nasty harpy,” said the handler.

  “Give me the remote,” Bill said and jerked it from the handler’s hand. He stomped to the display cage and showed the harpy the remote. “You want some more shocks?” he growled.

  Rather than scaring Shail, Bill’s threat had the opposite effect. He flew toward Bill and slammed into the bars. The whole cage shook from the full-force attack. Bill had been out of reach but he still jumped back with fright. Shail flung his hair and arched his wings like a hawk ready to pounce on prey. He sniffled, beckoning the man to come close again.

  Bill lowered the remote and massaged his mustache. “Gus finally did something right, even though it killed him. He turned the harpy into man-killer and one nice prize.” He glanced at the handler. “Get some men out here. I want his wrist chains looped over the top bars, and secure his ankles to the lower bars. He’ll injure himself if he keeps crashing into the bars. When the spectators arrive this morning, they’ll see his full body and wings. His days of curled up in straw and being babied are over.”

  From outside the cage, the range employees tightened Shail’s chains, pulling him down and disabling him on the bedding. “Get his damn sash off,” Bill ordered. “The hunters can see all this stud’s trophies.”

  Shail twisted in the stretch hold while one man removed his sash and the others strung his chains over the top bars. Finishing, they left the cage and released him. Pulling his wrist chains from outside the cage, they hoisted him up like a puppet on strings, Shail was constrained to the cage center and forced to stand.

  An employee came into the range and approached Bill with the media machine. “Look at today’s headlines, Mr. Simpson. The harpy article is as big as the swarm story.”

  “‘Harpy Kills Hunting Range Owner and Two Others,’” Bill read out loud. “‘Gus Simpson, part owner of Simpson’s hunting range, was killed with two other employees when they entered a golden harpy’s cage and attempted to rescue its woman handler who was beaten and being sexually molested by the animal.’” Bill stopped reading and laughed. “This is great. The ladies won’t be crying for him today.”

  The guards rolled Shail’s cage to the front room and opened the door to the awaiting throngs of people who came to see the murdering harpy.

  * * *

  Kari and Ted had returned to the hotel, and she spent the afternoon telling him about her adventures with the golden harpy and the discovery of the ancient ship. She left out the fact that she was a harpy who was married to Shail, and the harpies controlled the swarms. Ted was supportive and concerned for her captured golden pet.

  John and Charlie came back from the hunting range, and John assured Kari that Shail would be fine once he had his freedom. There was nothing else to do, but worry and wait.

  Sunday morning Kari woke to a knock on her hotel door. She opened the door, and her father stood in the threshold. “Bad news,” he said and handed her the media player.

  Kari sat on her bed and read the headlines about Shail and his crazed attack on the men. “This is a lie. He might have killed the men, but he’d never rape a woman.”

  John sat down next to her. “Regardless of the truth, the article is very negative about harpies. It confirms the old rumors that harpies are dangerous. It’ll take time to change public opinion.”

  Kari frowned. “More time? For a hundred and fifty years the humans have killed harpies over these rumors, and the truth is, humans are the murderers and rapists.” She stood up and walked around the room. “It no longer matters what people think. Their time is up.” She smiled sarcastically. “It’s actually funny. They want to kill Shail, but, ironically, he’s the only one that can save them.”

  “What are you talking about, Kari?”

  “The end is almost here, so I guess it doesn’t matter if you know. The harpies can destroy the swarms, but unless their ruler gives the order, the flocks won’t attack the beetles. My sweet, young husband … he’s the ruler, Dad. You kept hunters off your land and protected his harpies. To show his gratitude, he’s had his harpies defend your estate. That’s why there’s been no swarm strikes.”

  John thumbed his chin in thought. “Shail told me he protected my land, but I didn’t know what he was talking about until now. Kari, you should’ve told me this sooner. I might be able to get the Dora government to free him and stop the destruction.”

  Kari sat down on the bed. “They’d never believe you, and most of the senators are bidders at the auction and want to kill him. They’d never free him. Besides, I’m not sure Shail could be convinced to save the humans now. He killed three men, proving he’s lost his harpy compassion to protect life. And why should he save people who have slaughtered his flocks for generations?”

  “Kari, you know most people on Dora have never harmed a harpy.”

  “That’s true, but who is the more guilty? The cruel hunter who shoots the harpy or the indifferent public that turns its backs and allows a species to go extinct. I lived on Earth and saw what apathy and greed did to nature. Dora is at the crossroads of becoming another Earth. Look at Shail. He was wild, beautiful, noble; a symbol of nature and they destroyed him. Even if he heals and decides to save the humans, he has no guarantee the hunting would end.”

  “But he does have a guarantee, Kari,” John said. “He controls the swarms, the power of life and death on this planet. Once people know this, he can make any demand he wishes.”

  “Dad, we can discuss this all day, but right now Shail needs to be saved. Without him, there is no hope. Dora is doomed.”

  “I certainly have underestimated Shail,” said John. “He was smart to create the swarms.”

  “He didn’t create them.” Kari frowned. “The loca eagles and then the harpies have always prevented the beetles from multiplying and turning into swarms. Man destroyed this balance in nature by wiping out the loca eagles on the continent and trying to exterminate the harpies. Shail simply let the beetles tak
e their natural course sooner. He hoped the swarms would drive the humans from the planet and save his flock, but he was also saving the jungle and all of Dora from the beetle plague that would come when the harpies were gone. Of course, Shail didn’t know the beetles would turn deadly. He was upset about the loss of life.”

  “Do you know how they do it, Kari, how the harpies can take out a swarm?” John asked.

  “No, but I heard it’s dangerous. Some harpies will die. Now I want to get ready and go see him.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby, and we’ll go together,” John said. “If Shail hadn’t been caught, his plan would have worked. He would have saved his harpies and brought mankind to its knees. That’s astonishing, given he’s so young and a harpy that was raised in the trees.”

  * * *

  Kari ascended the stairs and Charlie, John, and Ted were waiting in the lobby. They left for the hunting range in John’s roomier rented vehicle, but when they arrived, they saw a line of people wrapped around the building.

  “It’ll take time to get in,” Ted said when they climbed out of the vehicle.

  “Maybe not,” John said, and they followed him to the front of the line.

  John approached a security guard near the entrance. “Do I have to wait with the rest of the sightseers?” He showed his bid number to the guard.

  “No, sir; you and your party can go in, no charge,” said the security guard and unfastened a rope, letting them pass.

  The large room was packed with people, and Kari and her group made their way toward the center of the room and display cage. Kari finally saw Shail through the shoulders and heads of the crowd. He stood chained and nude. His lowered head rested between his half-raised arms, with his face hidden by long hair.

  She bit her bottom lip, seeing her mate humiliated by the noisy, sneering mob. She looked at her father. “You want him to save them?” she asked.

  John couldn’t answer.

  Bill Simpson walked through the crowded room, accompanied by security guards, unlocked the display cage, and stepped inside. “Thank you for coming to see our killer harpy,” Bill said into a microphone. “Perhaps I can get him to perform.” The audience of mostly men cheered.