by A. C. Wise
Mindy is family, and where family is concerned, the free world can go fuck itself. Penny straightens and looks Mindy in the eye. “I’ve got your back.”
PENNY TUCKS HER LEGS BENEATH HER, BOOTS ABANDONED UNDER her seat, and massages the back of her neck. The battered paperback in her hand is folded near in half along the well-worn lines cracked into its spine.
On the seat beside her there’s a sheaf of papers she’s already leafed through a dozen times. Satellite images, maps, photographs showing multiple hidden entrances to the Toquima Cave system.
“I had no idea these existed.” Penny had said when Mindy handed her the pictures.
“Of course you didn’t.” A quirked, broken grin crossed Mindy’s face as she tapped the logo on the folder holding all the pages together. The alien head, smug in its serenity, looking guilelessly back at Penny.
Fuck Bunny and her security clearances. But Penny had studied the maps, the images, everything Mindy had given her. She was as prepared as she was going to be.
“I thought you could use this.”
Penny starts, looking up to find Jonathan holding out a steaming cup of coffee.
“I didn’t know how you take it, so I brought cream and milk and sweetener and sugar.” Jonathan empties his pocket onto the tray table.
“Just black actually, but thank you.”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I really am honored to be working with you.”
“Thanks.” She wishes he would go away, but he doesn’t move. “Good coffee.”
It’s the closest she can bring herself to an apology. Jonathan glances at the paperback splayed face down now on top of the papers.
“What are you reading?”
A smile touches Penny’s lips. “A Zippy Terwilliger book.”
Jonathan returns a blank stare, but takes the seat across from her. Penny turns the luridly painted cover so he can see. It shows the titular hero in her bomber jacket and leather flying helmet against a jungle backdrop. A silver airship looms above Zippy, and zombies in various states of decay peer menacingly from the trees.
“They’re kind of kids’ books, I guess. The author churned out four or five a year. They’re terrible, really. I mean the geography and ecology are all messed up, and people are constantly saying things like gee whiz and practically every second line of dialog ends in an exclamation point.” Penny shrugs, setting the book aside. “I used to read them all the time as a kid. They’re relaxing.”
“I used to like the Honor Dodge books.” Jonathan’s voice is hesitant, as if he’s afraid Penny will slap him if he says the wrong thing.
“I read one or two of those. Honor’s like Zippy, but in space.”
Penny thinks about the endless summer days she and Mindy spent reading Zippy Terwilliger adventures in Mindy’s treehouse. The same treehouse they’d retreated to years later to get shit-faced drunk after Penny was denied her pilot’s license.
“Zippy was kind of my hero growing up.” Penny shrugs. “I wanted to be a pilot, but…”
She stops, frowning. She has no intention of spilling her guts to this kid, and she changes tack. “What about you? What do you want to be when you go grow up?”
“I…” Jonathan blushes, looking flustered.
“Sorry.” Penny lifts the corner of her mouth, softening words. “I couldn’t resist. You barely look old enough for college, let alone a job.”
“I am twenty-three.” Jonathan’s defensive tone and the way he puffs himself up only widens Penny’s smile.
“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes,” a member of the flight crew says, collecting their cups.
Penny slips her boots back on and fastens her seatbelt. Jonathan bounces one leg up and down, burning off nervous energy. Penny watches him, sidelong. He doesn’t look like he’d even play a violent video game, let alone be involved in a real-world combat situation. If Bunny were in this situation, she’d say something comforting like everything’s going to be okay. Penny prefers silence to lying.
“FOLLOW MY LEAD. MOVE WHEN I SAY, AND KEEP QUIET.”
The two Secret Service goons nod. They might be twins—broad-shouldered giants with identical haircuts, carved from slabs of stone. Either because, or despite, the fact they’re both ex-military, Penny finds herself wishing for Bunny and the rest of the Glitter Squadron at her back instead. But Mindy insisted it would be Penny and Penny alone carrying out this mission. She won’t even be able to tell the Squadron about this if she survives.
Dust coats Penny’s legs from the climb. Feeling foolish, she waves the alien-head ID card in the empty air in front of her. But it works. There’s a faint click, and seemingly solid rock folds back to the reveal a narrow entrance to the caves. There’s just enough light to show the petroglyphs marking the walls. Even though Mindy assured her the harpies don’t know about this entrance, Penny is glad the goons have their weapons drawn.
When shrieking harpies fail to burst forth and attack them, Penny lets out a breath. She slips Stella into her hand, and steps into the mouth of the cave. The weight of the gun in her hand reassures her, and there are knives sheathed in both of her boots, just in case. She gives the signal, and the goons follow her as she snaps night-vision goggles in place.
Deeper in the cave, jagged teeth of stone in sharp, radioactive green hang from the ceiling and rise from the floor. In between them are bundles of sticks and mud, vaguely nest-like shapes. Something snaps beneath Penny’s boot. A bone. She doesn’t look a second time to verify her first impression—it’s human.
She gestures the goons forward. She should feel vulnerable in a copper minidress and knee high boots, but the sheen—even in the darkness—is polished armor. Bunny is either having a good influence on her, or a bad one.
A few more steps and in, Penny sees them. Hanging upside down like bats, a dozen or more women with razor-sharp wings folded around their bodies sleep with their talons buried in the stone.
A sound catches her attention, a small, fragile sound. Human. Penny creeps around a jutting stalagmite. Mindy’s nephew crouches in a cage woven of the same sticks used to make the nests. Penny eases the night-vision goggles from her eyes, plunging herself into total darkness.
Her vision adjusts. Tears run from Joshua’s wide-open eyes, making tracks on his dirt-smeared cheeks. His whole body shudders, the occasional hitching of his breath the only sound in all the silence.
Penny gestures to the goons to hold their positions and creeps forward. The boy catches sight of her, his eyes widening further. He almost yells, but Penny closes the distance, and holds her finger to her lips.
“Your aunt Mindy sent me. I’m here to take you home.” She says this as quietly as possible, but her voice still sounds overloud.
Penny glances behind her, but without the night-vision goggles she can’t see the goons or the creatures nestled overhead. But she needs the boy to see her eyes.
“I need you to stay very still, Joshua, and be very quiet. Can you do that?”
The boy nods. Once Penny is certain of him, she lowers the goggles, reducing the boy to a terrified smear of green light with too-big eyes. She still can’t believe Mindy’s brother found someone to marry him, let alone have his baby. Her memories of Bobby mostly consist of him and his smelly friends playing terrible music in Mindy’s garage, thinking they would all grow up to be rock stars. She gave Bobby a bloody nose once, though she can’t remember why; her mother grounded her for a week.
Penny smiles in the darkness. But the woven branches forming the cage are stronger than they look. Her hand slips, drawing blood, and she swallows a curse. She pulls one of the knives from her boot, sawing at the branches. Her palm is slick with blood, and she’s acutely aware of the minutes ticking by. How long before the harpies wake? How long until she’s out of time?
The rest of the branches are easier to untangle. She reaches through the new gap in the bars and pulls the boy free. He smells like sweat and urine, but Penny hoists him over her shoulder. She signals
the goons to retrace their steps.
They’re almost clear when one of the goons trips, crashing to one knee. The sound echoes through the cave, answered by the thud of Penny’s pulse. She holds her breath. Then there is a sound like a hundred umbrellas being unfurled at once, like a thousand knives being drawn, and a chorus of shrieks full of hunger and rage.
“Go!” Penny breaks into a run, heedlessly shattering bones under her chunky heels.
Joshua clings to her, whimpering softly. Outside, Penny rips the goggles off. Earth slides under her feet, but she keeps her balance despite the weight of the boy slung over her shoulder. A shadow passes overhead and Penny skids to a halt, dropping to a crouch and pushing the boy behind her.
She fires Stella. Joshua wails. The shots go wide; the harpy folds her wings, diving.
“Shit.” Penny snatches the boy’s hand, dragging him in her wake.
One of the Secret Service goons reaches the car at the same moment she does and launches himself into the driver’s seat. The other goon is nowhere in sight. Penny shoves the boy into the backseat and dives in after him.
“Drive!”
Talons scrape the roof. Metallic wings sweep forward, shattering the rear window. Penny throws herself over the boy as broken glass rains onto the seat. The car surges forward. A shriek of frustration sounds behind them, louder than the roar of the engine.
Penny straightens, shaking glass from her hair. “Are you okay?”
There’s a scratch on one cheek, but as far as she can tell, the boy is unharmed. He nods, but there’s a glazed quality to his expression. She wouldn’t blame the kid for going into shock.
“You better like gum.” She hands him a peach-flavored stick.
Joshua accepts and chews mechanically. Penny wills the car to go faster. Her heart lurches in relief as the plane comes into sight. She twists around. No wings blot the sky, but that doesn’t mean the harpies aren’t following them.
Mindy waits at the bottom of the steps, her face breaking into an expression of relief as Penny helps Joshua from the car. The boy runs, flinging himself at his aunt’s legs.
Even when they’re aboard, and the plane door closes, Penny can’t settle. They left a man behind, and they’re about to lift into the air where the harpies await with razor sharp wings.
THEY’VE BEEN FLYING FOR ALMOST AN HOUR, BUT PENNY IS NO calmer. The remaining security goon—Penny still doesn’t know his name—touches her arm. She starts, realizing she’s gripping her armrests hard enough to press her knucklebones out against her skin.
“Relax. This thing is proofed against nukes.” He smiles, but there’s a shadow to it, evidence of pain.
They left a man behind, and Penny doesn’t even know this one’s name. Bunny would know his name.
So she doesn’t say: Proofed against nukes, but not mythological creatures. And she tries to return his smile, but the muscles twitch in her cheek instead.
The goon’s eyes widen. He points, and Penny turns to the window behind her. A winged shape hurtles toward the plane, talons outstretched. She’s already on her feet as Mindy enters the main cabin, eyes red with exhaustion.
“They’re here,” Penny says.
Mindy presses her lips into a thin line, but doesn’t respond. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Joshua emerges behind her. There’s a sound like nails on a chalk board, but much worse. The harpies are trying to get in.
The pilot noses the plane down, as if he can hide them in the clouds. Joshua makes a low, whimpering noise, clinging to his aunt’s leg.
“Get him into your suite. Take Jonathan and any non-essential crew members. Lock the door. You stay in there, too.”
Penny makes a shooing motion. Mindy looks like she’s about to protest, but after a moment she gathers her nephew in her arms and obeys.
Penny glances out the window just in time to see a harpy land on the wing. This is the first chance she’s had to get a good look at one of the creatures. Her wings are cream and blue and bronze, the tips of her feathers wickedly sharp. There’s a blueish cast to her skin; her lips and nipples dark enough they might be black. There are bones and feathers woven into her hair, or maybe the feathers are her hair.
There’s a thump from the other side of the plane. Through the small, oval window in the door, she sees a harpy baring her teeth. The creature hammers the window with her fist. The security glass holds, but trembles with each blow. After a moment, the face disappears, and then the whole door shakes as one of the harpies strikes it full force.
Penny gives the security goon’s smile back full force now, trying to be reassuring, but it feels more like a grimace. “There’s no way they can get in.”
The goon licks pale lips and doesn’t respond. For all his size, Penny realizes he might be as young as Jonathan, maybe younger. He’s not wearing his tinted glasses anymore; his eyes are bloodshot. The goon they left behind—maybe they were twins after all.
Shit.
“Hey.” Penny grabs the goon’s wrist with just enough force to get his attention. What would Bunny do?
“What’s your name?”
“R-Ruston, ma’am.”
“Okay, Ruston. We’re going to get through this, you and me. And we’re going to make sure all the others get through this, too. You got that?” It takes all Penny’s effort to keep her voice even, to keep it from being too hard.
How the hell does Bunny do it? She lets go of Ruston’s wrist, moving to the other side of the plane. There are at least a dozen harpies darting in and out of the clouds. Some are armored in bronze, complicated and lovely. Most are unarmed, but Penny catches sight of one with a spear.
“Shit!” Instinct sends Penny reeling backward.
The harpy dives, striking the plane. There’s a terrible sound as the spear punches through layers of metal—more than it should be able to. Fine. Penny smoothes her hands over her dress, gathering her thoughts. Calm, cool, and collected. Just like Bunny would be.
But she isn’t Bunny, and she doesn’t have the Glitter Squadron to back her up. It’s just her. She’s been to fucking war. She’s saved the fucking world countless times. But never like this, never alone.
Another strike. The inner wall of the cabin shudders, but the spear’s point doesn’t emerge. There’s a scraping sound as the weapon is withdrawn. No damage. Then Penny notices a tiny, pinhole wound.
It isn’t like in the movies; the plane doesn’t explode. But if she doesn’t do something, they’ll lose cabin pressure.
What would Zippy Terwilliger do?
Penny squeezes her hands into fists, and lets go. She isn’t Bunny. She isn’t Zippy. She is only herself. Penny takes the wad of peach-flavored chewing gum from her mouth and presses it against the hole. That simple act is enough to snap the world back into focus.
“We need to open the door,” she says.
“What?” Ruston looks at her like she’s lost her mind.
“We can’t do anything from inside the plane, and if we don’t do something they’ll rip us apart. Get the pilot to tell us when we’re at an altitude where it’s safe.”
Ruston’s mouth works for a moment, but he trots off. Blows continue to rain against the outside of the plane. After a moment, Ruston returns with a shell-shocked member of the crew.
“Be ready,” Penny says.
The crew member stations herself beside the door, hands trembling. Penny plants her feet, weapon drawn. Ruston takes a position beside her.
“As soon as you open the door, get out of the way,” Penny says to the crewwoman.
The woman nods. Her lips move, silently counting. Penny sees the moment come, and at first it seems like the woman is going to freeze, lose her nerve, then she wrenches the door open and scrambles aside, wedging herself between two seats, arms over her head, making herself as small as she can.
Penny fires. It’s pure instinct. A harpy fills the open doorway for one moment, then Penny’s shot hits home, and the bird woman falls. Two more harpies crowd in to take her place.<
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All they want is their sisters’ freedom.
“Take the one on the left!” Penny shouts over the rush of air.
They’re low enough now that the open door doesn’t want to suck them outside, but the plane feels unsteady. The space is too close to fire again. Penny lashes out with a kick instead, catching one of the bird women square in the face. There’s a satisfying crunch; a gout of blood—blue-black—soaks the woman’s lips and chin. She tumbles back, her wings snapping wide, beating the air to regain her balance and keeping her from tumbling out of the plane. Penny ducks under the sweep of blade-like feathers, and comes out of her crouch with one of the knives from her boot. She drives it into the bird woman’s hand where she braces it against the wall.
This time, the harpy’s shriek is human. As she struggles to pull the blade out, Penny kicks her hard in the stomach. The woman falls out the door, leaving the blade embedded in the wall. Penny yanks it free, wiping harpy blood onto the copper of her dress.
If this were a Zippy Terwilliger story, in the end the bad guys would be tied up and handed over to the proper authorities, wearing hangdog expressions. Or, if like the Pirate King they did happen to “die,” they’d pop up again in the next adventure with some over-complicated story about how they escaped death once again. There’d be no smears of blood, no harpies screaming as they plunged through the clouds. Mindy wouldn’t have shadows under her eyes, and the knowledge of torture weighting her mind. And at the end of the day they’d celebrate with a pot of tea and a plate of warm scones.
Penny turns, whipping her blade through the air. Perfectly balanced, the knife buries itself in a harpy’s chest. Before Penny can reach for the knife in her other boot, another harpy takes the fallen one’s place. Ruston aims, but the harpy lashes out, swiping talons across his face. He screams, dropping his weapon. His knees fold, hands clutched to his cheek and blood seeping between his fingers.
The harpy’s wings snap wide, buffeting the space with air. Penny staggers, and the moment she does, the harpy is on her. She knocks Penny onto her back, driving the air from her lungs. Starbursts cloud Penny’s vision. There’s a horrible wheezing sound she recognizes as her own, not helped by the harpy’s weight on top of her.
