Wasteland (Flight)

by Lindsay Leggett

  Just as we think we’re in the clear, a loud noise sounds through the air, like a deep, echoing trumpet. I’d know that noise anywhere, and even though the sound of Elder Corporation’s tank should bring me copious relief, instead it shakes me to the bone.

  A few villagers exit their huts sleepily, and I jab Essa in the ribs.

  “Run!” I say, and we take off, weaving through the village, not stopping until we’ve reached the edge, where the Corp’s tank is waiting. We wave our arms to get the driver’s attention, and it screeches to a halt.

  Rupert himself is the first to exit, and then David, who rushes to me. I embrace him tightly, wind circling us from the machine and the desert. Having his arms around me makes me immediately feel safer.

  “We were so scared that something happened to you,” he shouts through the noise. I realize that the Corp must have tracked us through the chips implanted in our arms. When we were static for so long, it must have raised a flag. Or maybe Rupert knew of the village here. Either way, I’m filled with relief.

  “Let’s just go home,” I say. Essa is already inside the tank. Rupert watches the village with a keen eye, and I can’t help but wonder what is going through his mind. Why were the people of the village so concerned with the Corp, so deadly against Hunters, as the Harpy had said. He’d told me I was just like him. Not Human.

  We quickly load ourselves into the tank. There is a window at the back scuffed with desert dust. Just before we start moving, Rupert enters the back compartment where David, Essa, and I are curled up. He tosses us each an old gasmask—the full-face kind.

  “Put them on,” he says.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Essa asks. Rupert doesn’t reply, so we strap on the masks. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. There’s something not right about this.

  The tank begins moving, and once we’re a certain distance from the village, dark, puke-green gas spouts from the tailpipe, drifting over to the village, infecting it. Within minutes the entire cavern system is blanketed in gas. I turn to Rupert, whose lips are slightly lifted.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. He stares at me.

  “What needs to be done. Those people are dangerous. They nearly killed two of my best Hunters. We have intelligence suggesting they were planning to invade Central,” he says. I’m incredulous. The faces of the villagers flash through my mind: old Sage Eir, Brin, and Fig… so young. Now they are all dead.

  “You just murdered innocent people,” I spout. David nudges me, as if to scold me for speaking out, but I don’t care. Even Essa’s face is frozen in shock. Rupert glares at me then, puffing out his chest to make himself seem more imposing, more powerful.

  “Are you questioning my authority, Piper Madden?” he bellows.

  I want to shout at him that yes, I am questioning his authority. That even if they were going to kill us, it still isn’t right to murder hundreds for the act of a few. But I can’t. I know I can’t. This is work. This is war. I bite my tongue, but I don’t apologize.

  “That’s what I thought,” Rupert muses.

  The tank moves onward, leaving behind the little village until there is nothing left but dust.

  6

  My heart pounds in my chest, unleashing panic into my veins. So many voices echo through my mind: shouts and whispers and groceries and what will happen today?

  “Are you okay there, Pie?” Rassler asks. I turn to him, noting the concern lining his eyes.

  “I’m fine. It’s just a sensory overload,” I say. And only David called me Pie, I want to add, but I don’t.

  This morning Rupert assembled the team to conduct crowd control at the Corp’s demonstration rally. After gearing up, we left the compound and the sheer force of the crowd’s energy nearly knocked me sideways.

  There is a pathway, a ripple in the sea of black-covered citizens for us to wade through, but the tunnel of the crowd is still suffocating.

  Nearly the entire city must be here. Rupert leads the convoy, nodding and waving to his loyal people.

  “This is the biggest turnout yet,” Rassler mutters.

  I look around, pushing my anxiety away to get a hold of our situation. The rally came to a precipice in the city square, tall buildings flanking each other. The streets are crowded with thousands of people from all walks of life, all swathed in black.

  “Are they asked to dress like this?” I ask.

  Rassler does a quick check before leaning toward me.

  “We don’t know. I think they decided en masse to copy Rupert. He always wears black to the demonstrations,” he says.

  Demonstration. The word shivers its way down my spine. All of these people are gathered here for death, but they won’t be mourning. They’ll be celebrating.

  We reach the square, where a stage is set up, a female Harpy chained to a tall steel post. Her face twists with malice as she tries to escape. She is covered in a layer of blood even though her skin has healed.

  Who deserves this? What person, Harpy or otherwise, deserves to be subjected to this horror and torture? I swallow, desperately trying to keep my emotions in check. I tear my eyes from the stage. There is nothing I can do.

  I report to my station with the other Hunters as Rupert takes to the stage. The group in front of me hugging the rail hisses and calls to the Harpy. One father holds his toddler on his shoulder, and she cheers with the rest, holding a small sign that reads, No Harpies: No problem.

  It’s written in her childlike scribbles.

  The mic crackles and the crowd hushes into almost immediate silence. Rupert takes his place at the podium. I don’t even need to glance back to see his power-mad grin; there are massive vid-screens posted on all of the buildings.

  He is in his true glory.

  “People of Central,” he announces. The crowd cheers and hollers until Rupert motions for them to stop, a grin on his face.

  “I am so happy to have you all here today. Times have not been easy. No, times have been frightening and treacherous. Do you know why?”

  “Damn the birds!” a lone voice shouts. Rupert nods.

  “We are suffering a plague in our midst. An abomination of creatures who would kill us all given a second. Creatures who would murder your children! Tell me, my people, tell me what these creatures are!”

  “Harpies!” the crowd booms.

  “Yes, Harpies. Today I am here to show you what the Elder Corporation thinks of these abominations. I’m here to show you what our Hunters do day and night to keep you safe.”

  Rupert gestures off stage, and a young Hunter steps up. He looks nervous, like he’s just a little boy. He has no idea what he’s doing, but the cheers of the crowd inflate him, make him feel powerful. Right now he is a god. A smile creeps onto his face.

  He turns to face the Harpy, who has stopped struggling. She stares back at him, her eyes cool, anger just simmering beneath them. She knows her time has come.

  A flash of black catches the corner of my eye. I turn back to the crowd; all are still, watching in excited anticipation. Movement from above strikes my peripheral, and as I look up I see the last seconds of passing wings.

  My heart stops and jumps to my throat. I know it’s him. I know it is Asher.

  I look over to Rassler, who shakes his head just slightly, warning me silently with his eyes. But then there is no time to think. The demonstration has begun.

  The young Hunter is armed with a studded whip, but upon closer examination, I realize the tips are silver—there is no Hunter blood covering them. He flourishes the whip with a loud crack. The crowd waits.

  Snap. Silver prongs digging into skin.

  Snap. Blood spraying just seconds before wounded seams merge together.

  Snap. Tortured cries blaring from the Harpy’s mouth.

  Snap. Cheers and hollering from the crowd.

  When will this stop? He’s not even trying to kill her right now. This is all just a gory, glorified show. And then Rupert speaks again.

  “These creatures are immu
ne to Human weapons. Only the blood of the Hunter can send them to Hel!” he cries.

  He steps up to the Hunter, pulling an ornate glass bottle from his jacket. The thick, augmented Hunter blood swirls inside. Rupert takes the whip, dipping its spines in the jar.

  “Now you will see who holds true power in this world,” he exclaims.

  Manic excitement fills the young Hunter’s eyes. The Harpy breathes heavily. Already a few lashes have begun to heal slower, and some not at all.

  Snap. Anguished wails.

  Snap. Sizzling, mottled skin.

  Snap. Ashes. Ashes. Ashes.

  The Harpy’s face is frozen in an expression of terrified pain for a moment before crumbling away. Then the crowd turns wild. People push against each other, trying to reach the stage to touch the ashes—to hold all that remains of the dead.

  The chain reaction ripples along the square, and the sea of black that was once so still is now a roiling ocean of running, shouting, stampeding citizens.

  Rupert is immediately rushed into an armored vehicle, leaving the rest of us to deal with the riot. It’s impossible. How can we even begin to quell this riot?

  But then, just as the front line bursts through the iron gates, I feel an arm wrap around me forcefully, yanking me away from the stampede that could have killed me, that probably would have killed me.

  “I can’t stay long. You need to get out of here,” my captor murmurs. Holding me, Asher jumps to the ledge of the nearest building, and together we watch chaos unfold.

  Am I dreaming? Have I died?

  “There is so much—”

  “Shh,” Asher interrupts. He looks at me, and his blue eyes are filled with so much pain. I’m completely overcome by his presence. Somewhere deep inside I worried I would never see him again.

  “Stay strong, Red. When it’s time, I will find you, and never let you go,” he says.

  Then he wraps his hands over my face and neck and pulls me close. His lips on mine erase the sounds of chaos below. A tiny moan escapes him as I thread my fingers through his hair.

  And then he’s gone, and I a alone on a ledge, my mind torn between the nirvana I was just in and the screams of death and torture below me.

  When my adrenaline recovers, I scout the area. I put away any thoughts of Asher in a drawer in my mind; I need to get out of here alive. I spot Rassler and Essa combating citizens, using mace and gas to keep them away and calm them down.

  I look to the ground, trying not to think of how high up I am right now. My only way back is to jump into the fray, but surely that will only result in my death-by-stampede. Not a desirable epitaph.

  “Piper Madden,” a lithe voice calls. My head swirls. Where is that coming from? “Look up, Piper Madden.” I crane my head to see the grating of a balcony above me. The owner of the voice is unmistakable. That pale skin, those all-knowing eyes staring down at me. Io. How did she escape?

  “You must come with me now, Piper Madden,” she says. I take a deep breath. To get up there, to escape, I have only one shot. If I miss the grating, I fall into the riot. If I don’t, then perhaps I will find my freedom.

  I close my eyes before I make the leap. I concentrate on the cacophony of sound below me and the pure quiet above. I jump, kicking my feet off the building’s stone facade for extra leverage and reach as I far as I can.

  My fingers brush the metal grating, and just seconds before gravity pulls me back down, my right hand clenches around an iron bar. Swinging from one arm, my entire body heaves a sigh of relief.

  I use my other arm to pull myself up, and then I stand beside Io. The girl smiles at me, though her eyes are filled with a wise melancholia.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask as I catch my breath.

  “You have seen all that you need to see. It is time to return you to where you belong. Io leads me through the bowels of the apartment complex, deep into its depths. The building is abandoned, at least it looks that way. Unit doors are left open, the furniture untouched.

  Finally we reach a storage room in the basement. Io presses her fingers against the wall, and a hidden door opens, revealing a passageway that enters into a tunnel.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “You will see soon,” she answers with a smile.

  I don’t know exactly why I trust her, but I follow her anyway. There has to be some reason why she is kept locked up, but the innocence surrounding her makes it almost impossible to suspect her of anything. Soon we reach the end of the tunnel, another door. She stops, her hand grabbing on to mine.

  “This is where I must leave you. Beyond this door is your future, the future that is the best for most. We are all counting on you, Piper Madden. Until we meet again.” Then she closes her eyes, and a soft yellow light radiates around her. Her toes float from the ground as she curls up into a ball, and then vanishes, leaving nothing in her stead.

  My mind is far too scrambled to think about anything right now. The riot. Asher. Io. It’s all just too much. So instead I focus on the door in front of me.

  It’s old and wooden, and looks like it could break down into dust at any second. I almost want to laugh at myself. How do I even guess at what could be inside?

  I rap my knuckles against the solid wood and hear scrambling from within. I ready myself for defense, just in case, as the doorknob turns. And then I burst into a wide smile.

  The girl in front of me is petite, wearing a ruffled top that she probably made. Her straight hair hangs to each side of her face, and her eyes are welling up with tears.

  “Hi Shelley,” I croak. She rushes toward me and wraps her light arms around me.

  “What took you so goddamn long?”

  I keep my eyes closed as the cool fresh air weaves around me, over my skin, slicing its fingers through my hair. This is real purity. This is the world’s masterpiece. And it is totally off limits.

  “Just a bit farther, Pie,” David says. I open my eyes and follow him through the rocky crag of the high-peaked mountains. After the incident in the village, I just couldn’t get my head on straight. Then David told me about a place—an Elder Corp location that was untouched, or recovered from radiation.

  After we climb over some steep terrain, the mountain opens into a large meadow. Here there is perfect green grass dancing in the wind, trees that aren’t petrified, but are growing, and wildflowers everywhere. The scent is the most amazing thing I have ever smelled.

  David grins as he grabs my hand and we run through the grass, giggling like morons. After we’ve touched and smelled every tree, flower, and blade of grass, we finally plop ourselves right in the middle of the meadow. I spread my arms wide and look out into the black night sky. The stars are so bright, I feel like I could just reach up to grab one and hold it in my hands.

  “How did you find this?” I murmur. David shuffles beside me.

  “I overheard Rupert and Charlene talking about it, so I decided to come check it out. Do you like it?” he asks.

  “I love it,” I reply.

  “Then this can be our place. Where we can come to get away from the stink of Central,” he says with a chuckle.

  Our place. It’s perfect.

  We lie there for a while, just breathing the fresh air and counting the stars, but before long the faces of the villagers creep into my mind. It’s like they’re haunting me, blaming me for the deaths of all of their family and friends.

  They would still be alive if not for me, after all.

  I roll over to face David. His eyes are closed, the moonlight shining over his peaceful, freckled face.

  “David, what happened that day? Why did Rupert kill all those people?” I ask. His eyes shoot open, and he eyes me curiously.

  “Pie, we thought you were dead. When you and Essa didn’t report back, we just assumed the worst. I felt so lost without you,” he says quietly. Pain lines his eyes now, even the memory of losing me—even if just for a short time—clutching him. I reach my out for his, squeezing it tightly.


  “I’m here now,” I say. But something still doesn’t sit right with me. “I just don’t understand why the entire village had to die. They’ve never been a threat. I mean, I didn’t even know anyone lived out there,” I continue.

  “You can’t blame yourself for that, though,” he replies, “Rupert had intel that the village held a faction that was preparing to strike against the people of Central. I know that not all of them were bad, but can you imagine the repercussions if they’d been left alive?”

  “But if we’d captured them, Fig and Eir and Brin, then we could have gained more information,” I protest. David’s eyes soften, and he squeezes my hand back.

  “That’s one of the things I love about you. You have so much faith in people, even if they’re preparing to kill you. But one day that compassion is going to get you into a lot of trouble. I already lost my sister briefly. I don’t think I could go through that again,” he says, barely a whisper.

  I try to put myself in his place, to imagine how I’d feel if he were the one kidnapped and in line to be killed. Even the thought of it shoots terror through me, and anger.

  I wouldn’t have let them live either.

  “I guess I’m just confused. I really thought they were going to let us go,” I admit.

  “The only important thing is that you’re okay, Pie. Nothing else matters,” he says. He moves to scooch closer to me, and a soft clink fills the silence. I glance down to find an open kit beside David’s belt pockets. Inside there are vials of a thick blue liquid, and a used syringe. I coil backward.

  “David, what is that?” I point at the needle. He snatches it quickly, closing it and zipping it back inside his belt pocket. His eyes shift back and forth. I know that look all too well. What is he hiding?

  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he says finally. I sit up, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

  “It is not nothing. What are you doing with that? What’s in it?” I press, but David’s face has already shut down. I’m not going to get anything out of him right now.