Wasteland (Flight) (6 page)

If I thought the Wasteland was like being on another planet, it doesn’t even compare to the Temple village. Built into a small rocky mountain, the village consists of a series of caves stuffed with huts made from found materials: shards of metal, petrified tree bark, ropes and curtains made from scavenged trash, and what smells like rotting vegetable matter.

Beyond the occasional street sign or airplane cabin that I recognize from children’s books, it looks like they’ve gone to great lengths to create this place. It’s colorful and vivid and, in its own way, beautiful.

At least, I would think that if I weren’t tied up with my arms wrapped around an old post. My hands are strapped together with old tree bark which tightens and burns every time I move my hands. My shoulders ache from being held back, and Essa and I have been separated. I don’t even know if she’s okay.

After trying to loosen the hold on me, I finally give up. My skin is blistered and bloody, I can feel it, and the citizens of the village walk past me, staring only with mild curiosity. None of them wear anti-radiation masks, and none of them appear ill. I wonder if it’s the mountain air, or if the earth really is recuperating faster than expected.

Sweaty and exhausted, I’m almost filled with relief when the young girl approaches me with a middle-age man with hundreds of spiraling tattoos, and an impossibly old woman. Her hair is long and white, and her skin wrinkled from age and sun. I’ve never seen someone so old.

“This is the other one,” the girl explains. The other two stare at me, sizing me up.

“You. What are you called?” the old woman says. I don’t even know if I have the energy to speak.

“Piper,” I muster finally. My voice is crackling, almost wheezy.

“She and the other were found with a family of slain Harpies. We have their weapons. They work for Rupert Elder,” the girl continues. A look of rotten disdain appears on all of their faces at the mention of his name. What has Rupert done to these people to make them hate him so much? Doesn’t he provide them with protection, even though they don’t live underground?

“Please, untie my hands,” I beg. The sores throb worse now, and more so with each passing moment. The young girl shakes her head, but the old woman scolds her with her eyes.

“Fig, give the girl some blackroot to help with the pain. Don’t be so cruel. Even Hunters experience pain and regret,” she says. The girl—Fig—reaches into her woven pockets and pulls out a carved wooden jar with a sticky black substance inside. Begrudgingly she instructs me to hold out my tongue.

I obey, and even though the blackroot tastes like ash and rot, I feel immediate relief in my hands, then through the rest of my body. I feel almost like I am floating. I still catch the strangeness of the woman’s words, though.
Even Hunters feel pain and regret
.

“What is the extent of your mission for Rupert Elder?” the man chimes in once Fig has stepped back in line with them. My lips are smiling, and I feel a bit silly.

“We are looking for a missing Harpy,” I reply. The three look at each other, sharing some knowledge I can’t decipher.

“What were you instructed to do if you found such a Harpy?” the man continued. I pondered for a moment. Everything was just so slow, now.

“Bring him in, I guess. We don’t have much of a lead. Do you know where he is?” I ask. They seem like nice enough people. Maybe they’ll help me.

“Brin, she can’t answer anything right now. She’s had too much blackroot. Look at her eyes. They’re barely open,” the old woman says. She is their leader, I realize, even though she is so old. She must have some sort of power to be able to scold the powerful-looking Brin and agile Fig. What funny names.

“I understand, Sage Eir, but we need to obtain information before Elder sends reinforcements. Surely in this state she will be more… generous with her information,” he says. Sage Eir looks at him sharply.

“And you propose such a tactic? Remember that we abide by nature’s rules, not man’s.”

“You said your name was Piper. Tell me, what is Rupert Elder planning? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I swear, but we need to know. We need to protect our people,” Fig pipes up. The dark eyes I’d found so fierce before were now kind and caring. She reminds me of my younger self, when I was still in training and believed in things.

“No one ever knows Rupert’s plans. We just follow orders. That’s all I can really tell you. He has never mentioned anything about harming the Temple. I don’t think you have to worry,” I say sleepily.

“This may be the truth,” Sage Eir states.

“How can you be sure?” Brin cuts in.

“Because I know of this Hunter. She is one of Elder’s core team. If he were planning on assaulting us or taking our resources, she would be one of the only Hunters who might have overheard. Let her rest. Tomorrow we free them.”

They walk away, leaving me against the post, stars before my eyes. I don’t know if I slip into sleep or not. I see only wonderful and beauteous color, and my body sings in harmony with it.

“You need to get out of here.”

I open my eyes. I am still in the Temple Village, but the sky has gone dark, and no fires warm the huts. The moon casts the only light. Crouching below me, a dark-haired guy saws at my shackles with a thick knife. He looks up at me, and those blue eyes nearly stop my heart.

The Harpy from the underground. What is he doing here? Before I can ask, my hands are freed, which is both excruciatingly painful and yet fantastic at the same time, and he lunges up, placing his hand over my mouth.

“Don’t make any noise. They don’t know I’m here,” he whispers. He looks around, his dark wings tucked close to his back, shining in the moonlight. He drops his hand as soon as I calm down.

“Why?” is all I can muster. I’m weak from the blackroot and lack of food. He looks me straight in the eye, sending my heart reeling. I’m so close to danger right now, but this danger is also my freedom. Talk about rocks and hard places.

“This village… it’s not what it seems like. They might seem like they’re just anti-Elder, but they’re really just anti-Hunter. They will kill you once they’ve gotten all of the information they can about the Corp’s plans,” he says. I’m still oblivious.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His gaze doesn’t waver.

“An eye for an eye. You could have easily called out that day in New Victory, but you didn’t. So I’m here to return the favor. Here,” he says, handing me the blade he’d used to cut me free. “Use this to free your friend, then get out of here as quickly and quietly as possible. These people are not your equals, no matter what they tell you. Hunter to them means not Human, which makes you like me.”

“But how did you find me?” I stammer, but he just shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Forget you ever saw me,” he murmurs. Then he lifts his wings and flies off into the night.

In the stillness, all I can do is question myself. Even though I’m weak, I still let the Harpy go without even trying to fight him. Then again, he did just release me from what could have been my death. Urgency returns to me. I have to find Essa.

I creep around the village, avoiding the huts and any areas where fires are kept and where there may be metal tools or scrap that could make noise. Soon enough I find Essa bound to a post, similar to how I was. She’s awake, and her eyes widen as she sees me. Thankfully she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

I cut her loose, cringing at the sight of both of our wrists; torn up and bleeding. It’ll probably take a few days for these wounds to heal. I gesture at her with a nod of my head that we should get out of here. She nods, and we both tiptoe through the camp.

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.

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 immune 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.