But before I can protest more, my comm buzzes. I glance over. It’s Tor. I activate it.
“Hey,” I say. David’s gaze remains forward, away from me.
“Piper, I heard what happened. Are you okay? Your mom said you weren’t home when I stopped by,” Tor’s voice echoes from the speaker.
“I’m fine. I’m just out with David,” I reply. Tor sighs in relief.
“Okay, at least I know you’re safe. Dinner tonight? I feel like I haven’t seen you,” he says.
I need to get out of here. If David won’t tell me what’s in that needle, then I’ll have to find out myself.
“On my way,” I answer, then shut off the comm. I look over at my brother.
“Are you coming?” I ask shortly. He shakes his head. He still won’t look at me.
“I need some more time out here,” he says, voice monotone. I study him one last time, hoping he’ll come around, but it’s as if I don’t even exist anymore.
I jog my way back to the city. I’m going to find out what the hell that thing is, no matter what I need to do.
I meet Tor at our usual spot, a tiny, family-owned restaurant in West Central. It’s in the old part of town, where the Holo-sky consistently malfunctions, revealing the real sky—a grid of pipes and rusted metal.
Tor’s already at our table. I rush in, waving to the owner, Freya, before scooching into the booth. Tor smiles and reaches for my hands, holding them over the table.
“You didn’t have to run here, you know,” he teases, gesturing toward my sweaty forehead. I blush, snatching a napkin to wipe it away.
“I was pretty far away. I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” I say. Tor’s smile remains, but there is a hint of sadness beneath his gaze. He knows I won’t tell him where I was. Just another secret to add to the list. I can’t wait until he makes Ace so that I don’t have to hide anything from him anymore.
We order the usual, and the calmness of the steady hum of the restaurant soothes my nerves.
“So, have you thought any more about it?” Tor asks. I furrow my eyebrows, confused. “Moving in with me,” he clarifies. I try to keep any shock from reaching my face. I’d totally forgotten all about it.
“I’m sorry. Things have been so busy. It’s… you know, it’s not like I don’t want to move in with you. You know I love your place, it’s just…”
“David,” he finishes. “I know. You don’t want to leave him behind with your mom. But Piper, we’re not kids anymore. You don’t need to base your decisions on the feelings of others, including me. You need to do what’s best for you,” he says. I smile at him, squeezing his hands.
“You are the most understanding person I’ve ever known. How did I get so lucky?” I muse. He squeezes back, rubbing his thumb along my palm.
“You’re just you. That’s why. How about this. Let’s forget about all of that for right now. I know you can’t give me the details of your mission, but are you really okay?” he asks.
Flashes of the gassed village pass before me, and the blue eyes of that Harpy. The one who saved me. I push it all away.
“I’m all good. Not even a scratch,” I reply, showing off my forearms that had just healed from the rope burns.
And then we eat dinner like normal Humans; we talk about normal things, joke about normal things, stare at each other like normal Humans. It feels so bizarre and yet so nice at the same time. Just before we get up to leave, completely full, I need to ask Tor one burning question.
“I need to ask you something. Have you seen any Hunters with a syringe kit?”
“No,” he says immediately, perplexed, “why?”
So it’s classified, then. I know now that all of this stems directly from Rupert. The thought sends chills down my spine.
“Nothing. Just thought I saw one of the juniors with one,” I reply. We square the bill, leaving the thought behind.
“Can I walk you home, or do you want to come over?” Tor asks.
A normal Human would go to her boyfriend’s place, would spend as much time with him as possible. But I know I’m not a normal Human. Not even close.
“I’ve got some running around to do. Tomorrow?” I reply.
Tor looks dejected, but he wraps his an arm around me anyway, kissing me quickly on the cheek.
“Tomorrow,” he agrees.
We part ways outside the restaurant, and I head immediately to the dead town of New Victory, knowing somehow that I might find some answers there.
I’ll never be a normal Human. Hell, I’m not even a normal Hunter.
7
Just like that, it feels as if my soul has been breathed back into me. Looking at Shelley in the creaky doorway, my eyes well up with tears. She pulls me inside, hugging me tightly. Her body is so frail; I clutch her ribcage as I squeeze her.
“What are you doing in Central?” I ask finally. Shelley cocks her head, and then gestures for me to follow her. Once we’ve passed through a short tunnel, the ceiling bursts into tall rafters, and the air in the large warehouse we enter is refreshing and cool.
Inside there are a few make-shift desks with vid screens and papers everywhere. When we reach them, all eyes turn to me, and my lower lip trembles.
Grier. Sandy. Dodge. They all look just as they did before, as if we’ve never even been apart.
“Operation Flykte is complete,” Shelley announces. Everyone rushes to me, and I feel more loved than I have in a long time.
After our collective shock has subsided, we sit in a circle to go over everything. I eye each of them. Grier looks so confident and tough. Gone are her sneers and snark. Now her face is set with determination and pride. Sandy sits beside her, his hand placed over hers. He’s typical Sandy, with bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and computer code running through his brain.
Dodge is probably the biggest surprise for me. With his wings retracted into his back, I wouldn’t have even guessed he was a Harpy if I didn’t already know.
A quiet settles over us–the calm before the storm. The excitement of my freedom has subsided, and the very real threat that exists presses into each of us.
“How long has he been doing the demonstrations?” I ask finally. Dodge’s upper lip twitches, but he remains calm, on the outside at least.
“It’s been about a month,” Grier answers. “Every week for a month. Every week, more Humans show up to watch the show.”
“There are sympathizers, though. It’s growing,” Shelley adds.
“Not fast enough,” Grier quips. The tension in the air is palpable. The resistance is failing.
“And Asher?” I ask hopefully. All eyes turn to face the ground. My stomach turns. Someone please answer me.
“Piper, we haven’t seen Asher in weeks. At first he would sneak away from Ehvelar as often as he could, but after Gabriel found out, something happened,” Sandy says, then trails off.
“What happened?” I insist, my voice rising. Shelley leans in closer to me, rubbing my arm with her hand.
“There was a fight, in front of most of the court. Asher was placed in lockdown. The few sources we have in the city haven’t seen him—or Ciar. Gabe has taken over the city. It’s absolute chaos,” she says.
My heart thumps. Missing. Thump. Locked away. But then the sharp memory of his lips on mine override everything.
“I saw him in the riot. He saved me,” I murmur. The room seems to let out a collective bolt of shock.
“What do you mean, you saw him? How is that possible?” Dodge protests. I shrug my shoulders.
“Maybe he escaped. Just like me.”
For them it’s just hope, but I know it in my heart. He’s fighting for us.
“There’s more, Piper,” Sandy states, interrupting my thoughts. He pulls out a flash drive from one of his jacket pockets and tosses it to me.
“What is this?” I ask.
“One of our sources in Ehvelar gave it to us. It’s from the Court’s files on Elder Corp. It has a lot of information about Harpies—
and Hunters. A lot of it is still encrypted so we can’t access it all, but the files suggest that the Elders have been around longer than we thought, and had a bigger hand in this mess than Rupert will admit to,” he finishes.
I hold the flash drive in my hands, feeling the weight of it. Does any of this have to do with Io?
“We’ve all looked through it, but you know the Corp best. You might be able to make more sense of it,” Grier adds. I slip it into my pocket. I’ll look at it later. There are more important things right now.
“So what’s our current objective?”
They all look at me, incredulous.
“Honey, you have to rest. You’ve been under a ton of stress. Don’t overdo it,” Shelley coos. I shrug her off.
“I didn’t escape the Corp just to sit around. Asher’s out there. Harpies and Humans are dying out there. War is coming, whether we want to admit it or not. We need to prepare,” I state.
The room is quiet, and then Grier bursts out laughing. I eye her. What the hell could be funny about this?
“Piper Madden, you haven’t changed one bit,” she says, regaining her composure. “But you know what happens when you don’t rest. We need you to be strong Tomorrow we’ll plunge into strategy, but tonight, let’s just be thankful, just for one night,” she continues.
I want to protest, but I know that she’s right. Even now my muscles ache with fatigue.
“Fine,” I say, a small smile on my lips, “But please tell me you’ve got some beer in here.”
Once I’m sure everyone is asleep in their bunks, I sneak out into the warehouse to the computers. I boot one up and slide in the flash drive. Immediately hundreds of files pop up before me. They weren’t kidding. Some of these files have hard dates of more than a hundred years ago.
How is this possible? Roger Elder founded Elder Corp seventy five years ago, at least so the literature says. The lore goes that Roger Elder built the Corp from nothing, but the files’ creation dates far supersede that fact.
I tap open the first file. 150 years old. Most of it is text, and a lot of it has been redacted. Damn. I peruse through it anyway. It’s a log of some kind, scientific. To me it looks like a list of genetic compounds and sets of results, but the purposes of any experiments have been blacked out.
Subject deceased after 10.5 L radiation.
Subject deceased after 15.3 L radiation.
More deceased. We are getting nowhere.
The list goes on. Were these “subjects” Human? The horror of it churns my insides. Were they testing Humans to see how much radiation they could handle? I keep scrolling, reading through file after file. It’s almost morning when the first case of success appears.
We’ve done it. Subject is immune to radiation, but suffers from positive and negative side effects.
Positive: Incredible regenerative ability. Wounds of all manner heal within minutes. Increased senses are also reported, as well as strength and speed. Truly incredible.
Negative: Loss of all empathy and basic Human emotion. Severe aggression and cannibalism. More than three lab techs dead. Subject has also developed shoulder appendages that grow larger each day. They are beginning to look like… wings.
Subject will be restrained for further observation. Tests on other subjects will continue. This is the breakthrough we have been waiting for.
Subject Name: H000.
H000. That code name belongs to the Slayer King of all Harpies… Asher’s father.
The stillness of New Victory pushes away all of the chaos in my mind. I wish it were still a thriving town; a place of beauty and fun. I think I would have loved living here.
I make my way through the cobbled streets strewn with clutter and bits of brick and machinery. I don’t know why I’ve come here, really. Something inside me has just beckoned me here.
I reach the town square and sit at the edge of a decrepit old fountain. I try to see it as it used to be: crawling with people, children laughing, ice cream and balloons. I close my eyes, immersing myself in it, but I still hear the footsteps crunching behind me. I know it’s him.
“You saved me,” I say loudly. He stops just short of me.
“You aren’t afraid of me,” he says, bemused.
“No, and you aren’t afraid of me either,” I counter. He walks, each second closer and closer to me. My heart beats with each step, with every inch my enemy closes in on me. Finally, he sits beside me. I turn to look at him from the corner of my eye.
His dark hair is scruffy, and his bright blue eyes beam from his angular face. He isn’t classically handsome, not like Tor or David, but there is something about him that is undoubtedly attractive. What are you thinking? A voice inside of me snaps, but I ignore it. I’m inches away from a Harpy, and yet I’m still alive.
“Why aren’t you killing me?” he asks. I cock my head sideways.
“You’re H002, aren’t you?” I ask instead. It makes sense. Why he let me go that first night. His lips perk into a crooked grin.
“Is that what they call me?”
I guess it is kind of weird to be called by a codename. “What are you called, then?”
“Asher,” he replies quietly.
Asher. I let it play in my mind. It’s strange and normal at the same time.
“Your turn,” he adds.
“Piper,” I say. Adrenaline pumps through me as I say this, like revealing my name is the same as revealing my soul. I turn fully, so my body faces him. He’s dressed all in black, but his muscular arms protrude from his T-shirt sleeves. “Why did you save me at the village?” I ask again. He looks up at the dead sky, as if expecting to see stars.
“I didn’t want you to die like that, I guess. I just didn’t want you to die at all.”
“And yet I’m your enemy,” I say. He cocks an eyebrow.
“Are you?”
His question knocks me off-guard. Of course I’m his enemy. My sole purpose in life is to eradicate Harpies, and yet here I am, sitting beside one of the most powerful Harpies alive.
And I can’t answer his question.
“You see, you’re trained to believe that I am evil and that you are good, that one race is superior to the other because of what they look like, how they live, how they eat,” he says, enunciating the last word.
And then horror fills me as I picture the Harpies in books from my childhood; blood-thirsty, hideous monsters eating children like candy.
“I have a duty to protect the innocent,” I proclaim. To this, Asher smirks, even though his eyes are sad.
“You protect because you are taught to. There are plenty of Human villages in the mountains just like the one your commander slaughtered, and yet they have no Hunters. How do they survive?” he poses.
I picture the village; the weapons, the protectors. “They fend for themselves,” I reply. He snaps his fingers.
“Exactly. You are simply providing a consumer service; a show of protection so the citizens of the Underground can live in their idyllic paradise. Harpies aren’t the ones stealing their freedom,” he says.
“But you murder and eat them. They have every right to be afraid,” I sputter.
Asher looks at me—really looks at me, and his gaze cuts me down to the core.
“That’s where you’re wrong. Not all Harpies eat Humans. In fact, many of us don’t. We are evolving as a species, just like any other.”
“So you’re… a vegetarian?” I ask skeptically. He bursts out laughing, his infectious chuckle echoing from the buildings around us.
“No. Absolutely not. There are more kinds of meat than I can count on both hands. Tell me, would you eat the finest food you could afford for each meal?” he asks.
“No,” I say. I think of eating expensive imitation lobster for every meal. It makes my stomach flip-flop.
“Now what if your food was not only not created in a lab, but it had emotions, intelligence, a society to relate to?” he continues, “Would you eat Human?”
I coil away from him, dis
gusted at the suggestion. I don’t even want to think about it, let alone picture it in my mind.
“No. Where are you going with this?” I nearly spit.
“My point is, that though many Harpies believe Humans to be the superior food source, more of us realize that to kill a Human is to kill a soul. We rely on other forms of meat, or the volunteers,” he finishes.
“Volunteers?” I echo. I’ve never heard of this. Asher runs his hand through his hair, like he’s embarrassed to explain this to me.
“There are Humans who don’t want to live anymore, or Humans close to death. We provide a quick and painless death in exchange…” he trails off. He doesn’t need to say it.
“And war?” I ask, changing the subject. I can’t talk about this anymore; it’s too much of a shock to my convictions.
“War is a fabricated notion pushed by Rupert Elder. He knows that if his Humans discover they don’t need him, then he will lose all of his power. He creates situations where we need to react, exacerbating the scenario entirely. I’m not saying all Harpies are good, but not all Humans or Hunters are good either,” he says.
I think about Rupert’s strategy plans. He is so convinced that war comes from the Harpy side. But what if Asher is just trying to divert me? What purpose does this all serve? Without noticing I begin to slide away from him, and he quickly reaches out to grasp my arm.
I nearly gasp at his touch. His skin is cool and electrifying, his hand soft and strong at the same time. My entire body shivers, and none of it is unpleasant.
Not even close.
“Wait. Stay a bit longer,” he pleads. There is so much vulnerability in his voice. Who is this guy?
“Why should I trust you?” I respond. “You’re H002. My mission is to capture you.”
“Because you haven’t. You know inside that we don’t need to be enemies. Feel it. Trust it.”
And even though every bit of logic in my body is screaming at me to leave, I sit back down. He lets go of my arm, and I almost want to ask him to touch me again.
Wasteland (Flight) Page 7
