Harley Merlin 11: Finch Merlin and the Lost Map

by Forrest, Bella

  “Focus on the biggest!” I shouted. “But don’t let the others get close enough for a snatch-n-fly.” Rookie mistake of the year.

  My team fired, angry streaks of laser-blue cutting through the darkness. At least ten bullets struck the creature from my team’s direction, in addition to a round fired by one of the chopper’s gunmen. The redbill’s wings beat violently but held its flight. I’d never seen one so large, and with its massive size came extra resilience.

  After another onslaught, it finally floundered, an unearthly shriek ripping from its throat and spurts of dark blood raining from its body. It backed down, swerving shakily toward the water at the end of the pier. It would probably be underwater in moments.

  My team’s focus switched to the next target, a redbill spitting nasty hissing sounds which reminded me uncannily of curses. It darted right up to the aircraft, its powerful beak close to ramming the tail.

  Swearing under my breath, I pulled myself higher up the wheel and leaned a little farther out of my comfort zone to get a better shot. I fired, my artillery joining my team’s focused stream. Shots pummeled the bird’s underbelly, but it didn’t falter. It took two intense rounds before it fell away, hissing loudly as it plummeted with a crash into the roof of a snack joint.

  “Good job!” I shouted. “Three more to go!”

  I released three bullets in swift succession at our third target, then leaned out even farther to attempt a shot at its neck. My finger was on the trigger, pressing—

  “Lyra, watch out!”

  Something clamped around my waist. My feet slipped from the frame as an impossible force yanked me to the right like I was a rag doll. The gun flew from my hands and the breath left my lungs—then I was flying.

  The pier bled rapidly away beneath me, and a mass of shimmering dark water replaced the ground. My eyes stung. I couldn’t hear my breathing over the roar of the wind.

  I winced as I felt the cold, painful press of armor against my flesh, as if it were closing in on me, and glanced down. Two blood-speckled claws engulfed my waist, the giant talons squeezing tight.

  I didn’t glance up, because I didn’t need to. All but one bird had been in my peripheral vision before I was snatched. Clearly the first hadn’t been as injured as it looked—or it had somehow recuperated and flown back with a burst of energy.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. If this redbill squeezed any tighter, it was going to crush me even before its deadly beak could gouge me.

  Those realizations hit me within moments, flying disjointedly through my brain as my reflexes finally kicked in. I yanked my knees toward my chest and fumbled in my boots to reach the knives strapped there. I pulled both out and slashed them across the creature’s claws, hoping it would drop me.

  Its legs retracted, shifting me into a more vertical position, but the bird’s grip barely loosened. Instead, it shrieked and thrust down with its beak, catching my right thigh. My suit dented into the muscle with a pain like being punched, and I gasped in both pain and anger. If it hit the same place twice, it’d cut right through.

  Time for plan B. There was no time to replace the blades in their sheaths. I let them fall, then pulled out a small rectangular pulse patch from a sleeve in my suit’s right shoulder while keeping my eyes on the creature holding me. As the bird thrust its beak down at me again, I jerked my head to the side, narrowly avoiding a second strike. I slapped the patch onto the bird’s right ankle and pressed the center of it, hard. The patch glowed bright blue for a split second, then beeped.

  The effect was instantaneous. The creature’s talons loosened as the device sent a powerful surge of energy rushing through its body. My suit was specially insulated, but if it were damaged enough, the pulse would’ve killed me, too. Which was why the patch had been the backup plan.

  My stomach dropped as the stunned bird and I hurtled down in freefall, the black, choppy waves rising to meet us at breathtaking speed.

  The impact jolted every bone in my body, and though the ice-cold water didn’t reach me through the suit, my skin prickled at the instant drop in temperature. I struggled against the instinct to gasp, preserving the precious air within my helmet.

  I opened my eyes to a swirling confusion of bubbles, wingtips, and pale shafts of moonlight, and thrashed to put some distance between myself and the redbill. It was still alive, though it seemed to be struggling to get to the surface.

  The surges created by its writhing body made it hard to fumble for another patch—especially with my suit dragging me down. I managed to pull one out and kicked back toward the bird. An insanely risky move, but I managed to catch the tip of its wing as it curved through the water. I held on for dear life, slapped the second patch on with my left hand, pressed hard, and let go.

  The violent currents subsided a moment later. Lungs burning, I prayed that the redbill was finally dead while I struggled to remove my helmeted suit, the heart-stopping cold engulfing me as I kicked to the surface. The pulse was over, and I didn’t have the energy to sustain the suit’s weight.

  Then again, hypothermia might kick in soon. But I trusted my brother to fish me out before that.

  Breaking the surface, I heaved a gloriously deep gasp of air while I reached for my comm and wiped my eyes.

  Two redbills hurtled toward me from the sky above, their razor-sharp beaks angled to strike.

  My heart lodged in my throat, and in one motion I gasped again and dove hard and fast, bracing myself for beaks to slice through the water. I should’ve expected them. It was Bill Behavior 101. The birds saw their companion take down prey (or so it looked from a distance), and they wanted a piece of it. A snatch-n-fly had never happened to me before, so I wasn’t as prepared as I should’ve been. Simulations only took you so far.

  I wouldn’t be able to survive this kind of attack even with a suit. The only idea I had was to get as deep as possible, rely on the water to hide me, and resurface far enough from them to get away, all before my lungs gave out. It sounded impossible.

  It never came to that. The redbills didn’t follow me. There was a commotion above the surface: two deep, echoing booms followed by a bright flash. Two enormous splashes disturbed the water around me.

  I rose back to the surface to breathe, blinking furiously when I reached air. Our aircraft hovered in the sky. A tall, broad form dangled from its extended ladder, a wide-barreled grenade launcher gripped in one hand.

  “Lyra!” Zach bellowed, his head swiveling wildly as he scanned the waves.

  “I-I’m here,” I managed, almost choking on an incoming wave. I raised a hand and flailed.

  I could’ve sworn I heard his sharp exhalation even from this distance, and the helicopter moved closer. Slinging his gun over his shoulder, Zach climbed to the bottom of the ladder as it swung directly overhead. He reached his hand out to me, and I kicked hard to grasp it, allowing him to haul me up.

  I swung around to the side of the ladder opposite him, both of us clinging to the same rungs, and met my older brother’s brown eyes with a deep inhalation. His lips stretched slowly, the sheer panic I’d seen in him only moments before melting into his signature devil-may-care grin.

  “Having fun?” he asked, reaching through the rungs to smooth back my sopping wet bangs.

  “A friggin’ ball.” I batted his hand away and started climbing before I froze in the harsh wind.

  Zach followed me up. “Are you hurt?”

  “Mostly shaken. A few bruises. I’ll survive.” My teeth chattered.

  “Not gonna lie, you had us all crapping our pants back there. I don’t think any of us saw that sucker returning for more… At least all’s well that ends well, eh? You gave me a chance to use this baby.”

  He was referring to the grenade launcher. We weren’t supposed to use heavy explosives unless a location was cleared of citizens, which was why we’d started with weaker gunfire at the pier. Out here, though, we could blow things up to our hearts’ content.

  Something Zach enjoyed more than was
probably healthy.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice dryer than the Sahara.

  As I reached the top of the ladder, a pair of strong hands grabbed me and hauled me up. The warmth of the aircraft’s interior enveloped me like a sauna. Our captain—and our real first-in-command—stood before me, his sharp blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny. But before he or I could say a word, someone attacked my head with a towel.

  “Better get you warm fast, Lyra.” A familiar voice came from behind me, muffled by the towel scraping my ears as it swiftly transformed into a turban. Hands spun me around until I stood face-to-face with my brother’s girlfriend. “Come and get changed,” Gina said firmly. Her light amber eyes were concerned and relieved as she took my hand and led me to the back of the aircraft.

  “Yes, get changed, Sloane.” Captain Bryce’s thick Scottish voice sounded from behind. “And then we all need to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous,” I muttered.

  “Pretty sure it’s the usual drill.” Gina sighed.

  Passing Teams A and B, I saw that everyone was unsuited and wore relieved expressions, though some had a tinge of thinly veiled amusement, similar to my brother’s expression on the ladder. I threw a playful scowl at those faces.

  No, it hadn’t escaped my crew that their first-in-command (albeit in training) had been the one to fall into what our trainers labeled Rookie Mistake of the Year.

  But come on. This one had been different. After all those injuries, I couldn’t have expected the bird to be that fast or stealthy. I needed more experience with bills of that size.

  A set of warm, dry clothes had been laid out in a makeshift changing room. Gina waited outside while I peeled off my wet uniform.

  “You got rid of all the birds, right?” I called through the curtain, realizing I’d only seen two come after me, which left one unaccounted for.

  “Yeah. Once you got lifted, Captain gave permission to override grenade protocol so we could deal with them faster and get to you. Team C had mostly cleared the area by then, anyway. Pilot’s taking us back to base now.”

  “Good.” I caught the reflection of my face in a small mirror while reaching for the dry clothes. My hazel-brown eyes were bloodshot, my usually sun-kissed skin still pale from the cold. But after wringing out my ponytail and pulling on a cozy, fleece-lined getup, I felt much better.

  I stepped back into the corridor.

  “Now for some hot chocolate,” Gina said. She turned and made for the front of the chopper, and I followed, watching the back of her short, blonde bob and ignoring my smirking colleagues on the way back. I sank into the seat next to my brother in the center of the common area while Gina fixed me a drink in the mini kitchen unit.

  Captain Bryce’s eyes lighted on me from the front of the room, and a moment later, he cleared his throat.

  “We’ll commence the Stripping, then,” he announced, every syllable tart and sharp.

  I recoiled involuntarily and felt the whole room do the same around me.

  A verbal stripping for each of us was what it would be—there really was no other term to describe the very detailed performance breakdowns Bryce gave his trainees after every mission. Nor was there any way to prepare for them.

  I flinched when his eyes turned to me, but then, apparently changing his mind, he strode to the seats on the far left, the first of which was occupied by Colin Adams, a member of Team B. Bryce stopped less than a foot in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “So, laddie. What made you think popping your first bullet before Zach’s command was a good idea? Did you think you’d earn an extra point for enthusiasm? Were you wanting to get ahead of your colleagues? Naturally trigger-happy, are we? Or is there some great intellect in that hard helmet of yours that I’m missing?”

  His blue eyes bore intensely into the Chinese-American, whose face flushed furiously.

  “N-No, sir. I’m sorry. I was just… nervous,” he mumbled.

  “You might want to take something for that twitchy finger then, eh?”

  Colin nodded, swallowing hard.

  Bryce moved along to the next trainee: Sarah Lammers, also of Team B and the youngest of our crew.

  “And you, Sarah. What made you think it was a good idea to skip to the loo in the middle of a firefight? Couldn’t you have gone a few minutes beforehand? Were you paying no mind to my words before we took off?”

  “I just realized that I… really needed to go.” The eighteen-year-old’s cheeks rapidly turned a blotchy pink.

  “You should’ve done it in your knickers then and changed later. You put your colleagues’ lives in danger.”

  “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

  “This isn’t high school anymore, folks, in case you needed reminding. When you’re out on a field mission, your first priority is each other’s safety. Anything else is secondary. Your action this time might not have had significant consequences, Sarah, but in even a slightly different scenario, it could have had very serious ones.”

  Bryce moved on to the next Team B member.

  “And you, Grayson. What made you think it was a good idea to keep glancing at Louise while you were supposed to be fighting? Do you have a crush on her or something? Didn’t realize the best way to ensure you can keep looking at her is to focus on getting the both of you back to the ground?”

  A mortified silence fell over the room. Louise’s eyes were fixed stiffly on the floor, while Grayson’s looked close to popping out. “I-I wasn’t looking at her, sir,” he stammered. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  A wily smile cracked Bryce’s leathery, suntanned face. He laughed, heartily. “You think I was born yesterday, son? You were ogling her like she were some sorta rice puddin’. Might as well just tell her you fancy her now, so you get it out of your system. Don’t want your poor little heart getting us all killed next time we’re in the air now, do we?”

  Bryce moved on, leaving Grayson looking like he was choking.

  The captain worked his way systematically through the rest of Team B’s members, breaking down in brutal detail transgressions both small and large—he gave the same attention to both—and thoroughly dismantling all (of the few) objections he received. If he appeared to spare most of my Team A colleagues, it was only because his all-seeing eye hadn’t quite extended to the ground where they’d been most of the time. But the closer the captain drew to Zach—and to me—the clammier my hands became around my cocoa. I doubted I’d be exempt.

  Zach held his breath when Bryce finally stopped in front of him.

  “And you, Second-in-Command Sloane.” He paused, furrowing his brow, deftly drawing the tension out. “You were a bit too keen to get that grenade launcher out for my liking. Yes, we had an emergency, but if I weren’t here, I suspect you would have been looking for any excuse to jump on it. That’s not the way of a good soldier. You shouldn’t be driven by personal preference in any way, only by what is objectively best for the situation, and of course your superior’s orders. You’re one of the older folks here, and I expect to see that maturity. I suggest you work on honing your objectivity.”

  He paused again, then spoke in a lower tone, as though it were meant only for Zach’s ears. “And maybe play a bit less with your father’s toys, eh?”

  “Got it, sir,” Zach breathed, visibly flustered, though obviously relieved his reprimand hadn’t been worse.

  Bryce started to move on, and then his head snapped back. “Also, get a damn haircut. I can hardly see your eyes anymore through that brown mane.”

  A titter of laughter broke out amongst the group. I couldn't help but smirk too, knowing how much Zach hated the super-close, cropped shaves the captain advocated. His aversion was likely due to the well-meant, yet categorically awful, home haircuts our parents used to give him when they didn’t have time to take us on a trip to the salon. Which was most of the time.

  “Oh, sir.” Zach clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “That’s a low blow. Gina likes it w
avy.”

  Bryce gave him a stony, narrow-eyed look but said nothing. He continued on to Gina… skipping me entirely.

  I frowned, unsure of whether I should believe my luck. Maybe I’m getting off the hook after all?

  Bryce stared down at Gina intensely, his expression inscrutable. The hum of the aircraft was the only noise around us for several long moments, until he sighed softly.

  “Ah, this one. What can I really say? She’s an angel.” A rugged smile tugged up the corners of his lips.

  The room exploded in mock outrage.

  “Come on, sir! I’m sure you could think of something!” Zach protested, leaning around me to poke his girlfriend playfully in the shoulder.

  “Yeah, Captain. That’s just straight-up favoritism!” Roxy complained.

  Bryce whirled on the tall, burly girl from my team sitting behind us, his eyes flashing.

  “What did you just accuse me of, lassie? Favoritism, you say? Aye. Well, I’d favor all of you if you showed the same damn work ethic, situational awareness, and efficiency as this young lady. When the rest of you have developed those qualities, I’ll throw a bloody rave!”

  Gina’s freckled cheeks darkened as she tried to roll her eyes and shrug off the attention, while Bryce’s gaze roved over the seats, daring anyone to protest. When nobody did, his eyes snapped back to… me.

  Crap. I braced myself, tightening my grip around my cup as he returned to stand before me, fearing I had gotten my hopes up too soon.

  But then I realized he didn’t look like he was about to deal out a stripping. If anything, he looked… concerned.

  His gaze held mine for several heartbeats, and then he shook his head slowly.

  “Eh. Lyra gets a free pass, too. I’ll be very honest with you all about something: I didn’t see that bastard returning for more either, not after the battering we gave it. I’ve never encountered a bill as tough as that.”

  Vindicated! I felt like saying the word aloud and giving a little fist pump, but the seriousness of our captain’s expression stopped me.

  “Do you think it was just a one-off?” I asked, eyeing him. “Some genetic fluke?”