Chapter Ten
It was his eighteenth birthday the last time I saw David smile. His laughter always filled up the room, almost like the glow of his teeth could warm you up inside. David. His hair was what my hair would look like if I wasn’t dye-crazy: a mousy, half-blond, half-brown. I remember he was growing out a beard, and no one at the party had the balls to tell him his chin hairs were covered in cake. They just kept snapping photos and passing around a salvaged bottle of wine.
That was the thing about David. He was just a nice guy, but his burly form and bulging muscles scared the shit out of anyone not Corp-related. Even if they knew we both had the Hunter gene, there was always an uneasy silence, a layer of eggshells produced by human imagination. Mom was the obsessive hostess, ensuring everyone was fed and that every joke, every moment was documented for her scrapbooks. Nobody could have known that it would be his last birthday.
Tor and I snuck off during presents to kiss and giggle in my bedroom while Shelley bounced around the party with my mom’s camera. Then the phone rang. Rupert.
“We’ve got Harpy activity near the entrance to the old Sunhill metro station. Five counted. We need you now.”
And that was it. The one night we wanted to take off. Our last night stolen. I ran downstairs and whispered the situation in David’s ear. He sighed deeply, and even though I could feel his frustration he kept a smile plastered on his face. He got all the patience when he was born, I’m convinced of it. By the time I came around there wasn’t much left.
“Sorry everyone, but Piper and I have an emergency meeting. Thank you all for being here, and please continue on. I’m sure Mom made enough food for all of Central.” The room swelled with laughter, and no questions were asked. Kisses goodbye were followed by suiting up into Rad-gear, knives, crossbow and guns strapped into loops.
“You ready for this?” David asked me before we exited through the back door. I nodded. He was always more cautious, more prepared. He pulled out a tiny pen needle from his pocket filled with cloudy liquid and I winced as he stuck it into his leg. Relief flooded his face. Turning his glazed eyes to me, he held out the needle, offering it to me.
“Want some?” he asked. I’d seen this vial before, but I didn’t know what it was. Some kind of Corp enhancement drug, probably.
“No. Let’s go before those birds get into the underground,” I muttered. We raced off into the night, a silent question circulating my mind, one that still exists now like a virus. If only I’d thought to dig deeper, to ask him about that needle, then maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe he’d still be alive.
The morning of the anniversary, I don’t want to wake up. Tense balls of anxiety build up in my chest as the Holo-sun begins to rise, signalling that it’s been an entire year since… Well, you know.
Just move on with your life! I scream at myself, but it’s not so easy. Despite my best efforts, the pain keeps itself firmly planted, never letting go of its strangling hold on me. A sharp rapping sounds on the door, but I ignore it, opting to stay wrapped in my covers.
The door swings open by itself, and I mentally kick myself for not locking it. A few hesitant steps sound throughout the apartment, and then there’s a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“Leave me alone,” I mumble. I lift my head from my covers to see the sharp-edged face of Grier Lan poking inthrough the door. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You didn’t show up to work today,” she says bluntly.
I sigh loudly. “What, did Myra sound the brigade thinking I’d taken off? I’m sick,” I mutter in reply. Secretly I’m hoping she leaves, or provides a sarcastic comment or biting remark, but neither of these things happens. Instead I feel the mattress shift as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed.
“What are you—” I start, tossing the blanket off my head, but I’m silenced when I see her sad expression.
“I know what today is, umm, Atwood—Sandy told me. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, and I’ll tell Myra if you just want to stay home today,” she says quietly.
Shock runs through me at her niceness and the apparent sincerity in her eyes; then again Sandy’s probably behind this. After all of our issues with each other, it’s hard to imagine my colleague actually caring about my feelings.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” she continues, “I can’t really justify the way I’ve acted toward you, I’m not usually such a bitch. Okay, sometimes I am. It’s just…it’s quiet here. We don’t have weapons except for in training, and, to be honest, I’ve never killed a real Harpy. God, I’ve never even fought one,” she says, hiding her face like she’s ashamed.
Pity or something like it runs through me and I feel like such an a*shole. “You’re a good fighter, Grier, you’ll be able to handle it,” I say gently.
She rolls her eyes and leans back. “To be honest, and I’ve never told anyone this so keep your mouth shut, but I’m scared. We’ve never had a breach until now. They found more evidence of attacks, you know, even closer to the city. What am I going to do if they get into the underground?”
I’m feeling a little hopeless as I watch her wringing her hands. I’m not exactly in the best at making people feel better about things. “If a major breach happens, we’ll be working as a team, and we’ll do what we’re trained to do. It won’t just be you out there, all of us will be helping each other out,” I reply. Then my mind flashes with a great idea. “Tell you what, what would you say if I suggested we hunt down a Harpy and have it be your kill?” I ask, trying to gauge her reaction. I’m ready to wince as she yells and threatens to tell Myra, but to my surprise, she smiles.
“Do you think it’s possible?” she asks.
“Of course it’s possible, but let’s wait a day or two so we can run proper recon and have a secure plan,” I say, and then it happens.
Grier smiles and says, “Thank you.” And then something weird happens. It’s like a weight is suddenly lifted off of our shoulders, as if the negative feelings we’ve had toward each other suddenly don’t exist anymore. With one small act of sincerity, what made us rivals has made us, what exactly? Colleagues?
“You should probably get to Headquarters,” I mention. She gasps as she looks at the clock.
“Yeah. You sure you’re okay?” she asks.
I nod. “I wouldn’t to be able to focus on work today, anyway.”
“Okay, try to stay positive,” she whispers, then leaves the room, abandoning me with my thoughts once more.
But life moves on. You have to keep breathing, and with every inhalation time moves forward; first slowly, then quickly. Eventually the holes inside you start to repair themselves, and your days return to their usual repetitive turn. I settle in at the Corp, and the nameless faces become Grier and Sean and Sully and Kate. Our team of six becomes a unit with every practice VR session, led by Tor and seconded by myself. At first a few were resentful of my intrusion, but when Grier backed down, so did the rest of them. I become comfortable, maybe too comfortable.
“The pack’s moving quickly. They’ve staked out a few of the small nomad villages in the wasteland, but no humans have yet been harmed,” Tor says at our next meeting. He stands in front of the room, all eyes on him. I sit beside him out of duty, surveying the team and going through the recon documents that either I’ve prepared myself, or some of the other sects have gathered. We know that the pack is on the move, but their motives are still unclear. He continues. “Our objective is to cut their path off from Ichton, and wait until they strike before we make our move.” My expression remains blank. So we wait until they kill someone, maybe hundreds, before we strike. Where is the attack first, ask questions later mentality of the Corp I once knew?
Grier asks for me. “So we do nothing until someone dies?” she says.
Tor nods solemnly. “If we strike first, we could upset an entire war that might not have happened otherwise. It’s not the best scenario, but we need to value the lives of the larger populace over the miniscule chance that we can avoid war by attacking first,” he replies. The room remains silent as each of the team ponders this idea, each with a tell-tale grimace of distaste.
Tor continues with his strategy plan and the map we’ve been using to mark out sightings, but I’m distracted as I pull out a file I’ve never seen before. It’s only one page, and the subject line reads “UNCONFIRMED”. It was produced by Tor, and details accounts from smaller villages of people going missing and being found mutilated in the woods. It screams Harpy attack to me, but the file has been closed and discounted. I shuffle it behind other papers when Tor looks down at me, and at the end of the meeting I slip it into my bag, making sure no one notices. As the team packs up to continue their duties, I glance at Tor, who’s jotting down some quick notes from the meet.
“So you really think the pack won’t launch any assault on the villages?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head, but seems uncertain. “They’re just trying to scare us into action right now. Gabe might be a bit of a wildcard, but he knows what he’s doing. If we attack first, then by their nature they have the right to launch a full assault on the underground, and to be honest, I don’t know if the Corp has the facilities to handle that kind of pressure, at least not here in Ichton. We need to play it by ear and try to figure out what they’re up to first,” he replies.
“Do you really need to guess at what they’re up to? It’s pretty obvious they’re preparing for an assault. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To end it? So why don’t we push on and end it before it begins?” I state, eyes focused on organizing my papers. Tor sighs deeply. Why can’t we look at each other? What is it about eye contact that’s so intimate that it frightens me? I feel as though I have a secret buried deep within me, and if I let him even glimpse it, my world will unravel.
“This is protocol here. We don’t strike first. I know that this goes against everything you’ve known before, Piper, but I need you to be on board here, okay?”
“Okay,” I say finally. As I’m packing up the rest of my files he takes my hands lightly and twists me toward him. He smiles and mutters some kind of thanks for my help, but I can’t seem to focus. With his eyes on mine, something shatters.
The first thing I do after the meeting is slip underground to pay Sandy a visit. As usual, he’s slumped over his laptop, furiously typing script, the darkness of the room barely illuminated by the neon glow of the computer screen.
“Give me one minute,” he drawls when I enter. He adds a few more lines to his script, then spins his chair around to face me. “What’s up?” he asks, the dim lighting exaggerating the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.
“I need you to do me a huge favor,” I begin, batting my eyelashes like a fifties starlet. He rubs his eyes and lets out a long sigh.
“I can’t give you your weapons, Piper. It’s against policy, which is something you know. If something were to happen, I would get in a lot of shit and you would probably be fired or executed or something,” he says wearily.
“How did you know I was going to ask you for weapons?”
“Because you’ve got that gleam in your eye, the one that means you’re up to no good. Can you at least tell me what you’re planning?” he asks.
“Promise you won’t tell?” I tease.
He tilts his head to the side, looking at me expectantly. “I won’t tell, but I reserve the right to pass judgement,” he says.
“Okay, well I’ve come across some files reporting attacks in the nearby villages outside. They follow exact criteria for Harpy behaviour,” I say.
He nods, so I continue. “Grier and I are going to scout that Harpy and destroy it before it can hurt anybody else,” I say. I realize I’ve blurted it out so quickly it would be impossible to understand, but the look on Sandy’s face tells me he got every word.
“No,” he answers simply, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
“Please, Sandy? I need to get out there again, I’m getting rusty,” I complain.
Sandy faces me, trying to defy me, even though we both know who’s stronger. There’s no use trying to out-power a Hunter.
“You’re too hot-headed. You’re just going to screw up and risk your life or Grier’s. Do you think I can let you do this on my conscience?” he asks.
I know he has a point, but I still decide to try a different approach. “I hate to do this to you, Sandy, you know I do. Give me the weapons or I will take them from you. You know I can do it. I could take you down so fast you wouldn’t have time to call for help. It’s your choice,” I finish. I face him squarely and clench my fists to make a point. He looks at me then, defeat creeping into his eyes, and I really do feel awful for doing this to him. Excitement overwhelms my guilt as Sandy retrieves my crossbow and daggers from a double-locked cupboard, as well as a shiny pistol and ammo for Grier.
“I want those back to me before the sun rises,” he says seriously.
I nod. It won’t even take that long.
“And no hunting on Corp property. Do you hear me? Even if a Harpy crosses the border you are to come to me, got it?” he continues.
“Why wouldn’t I just destroy it?” I protest, “It could endanger hundreds of civilians.”
“Trust me, things’ll be a lot worse if a Harpy intrudes onto this property. Don’t get caught, and destroy any evidence. It’s not just your ass that’s going to fry if you’re found out.”
I have little time to ponder what he’s just said. I pat his arm quickly in thanks, ignoring him as he pulls his hands through his hair stressfully. Weapons clipped to my belt, I slip through the halls and back up to the outside world.
Grier waits for me on the outer edge of the city walls, pacing nervously. I’d slipped her a vague message just after the meeting letting her know to meet me here. I toss her gun toward her when I reach her and she catches it deftly, cradling it like a prize.
“I can’t believe he gave them to you,” she murmurs.
“Not without some persuasion,” I admit. Immediately I ready my gear, ensuring every blade is in place, every lace is tied and every belt clipped.
“Are you sure about this?” Grier asks as I look at her for confirmation.
“Not scared, are you?” I challenge. The anxiety on her face hardens into determination and she shakes her head.
“I’m ready,” she says.
“Then let’s go.”
We climb up over the wall with practiced skill and I’m glad to see she can keep up as we drop back to the ground and begin striding through the thick forest. Based on the report, the first attack had taken place about a mile beyond the city border, so we head for that area, assuming the Harpy will stick to familiar ground. I’m glad Grier’s with me. She knows this area a lot better than I do and easily leads us through dense forest and around ravines and heavy boulders.
I look at the moon and realize it’s getting late. We continue on. It’s not until we’ve scouted nearly two miles from the city when we see it.
The first thing I see is the blood, then the rest of the picture comes into focus and I realize the blood’s pouring from a dying girl, her body twitching and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she begins to die. The Harpy is crouched overtop of her, tearing flesh from her quivering body, his wings tattered and missing feathers. Grier gasps and the Harpy whips his head around, screeching loudly as he sees us.
“Kill it. Now,” I say to her. Grier is frozen in place, the scene in front of us enveloping her emotions. The Harpy is still staring, seemingly stuck in place as well. That’s when I notice it. His eyes are slowly fading from a dark black into a light green, his skin softening until it’s a milky texture. His wings seem to fold over, shrinking into his back until his skin begins to crawl and scramble over, sealing the wings in an invisible pocket in his body. He looks like a scruffy man hard on his luck, his secret safely tucked away within him.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he sneers, but I can tell the reason he’s not moving is because he’s injured, his lightning-fast regeneration skills failing to repair a deep wound on his leg.
“Kill him, Grier! Do it now!” I yell this time. Like awakening from a trance, Grier aims her silenced pistol and shoots him square between the eyes. The Harpy inhales sharply, glancing down at his body as it begins to shrivel up and crumble. He looks me in the eye, his expression pained and frightened.
“Nothing is as it seems,” he whispers, then his face turns to ash and scatters to the ground. We stand there for a moment, attempting to absorb all that had happened. Grier seems to be shaking, but starts to kick loose dirt over the remains of her first kill.
“You saw that, didn’t you?” she says, her voice timid.
“Yes,” I say, but I’m less concerned from witnessing the transformation than from the words he’d spoken. I need to figure out what exactly is going on around here. Why was this Harpy here? Why did he appear so ragged and thin?
“Let’s go back,” I urge, leaving the mutilated body of the young girl lying in its place.
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Grier asks.
“What? Bury the body? Get our DNA all over it? She’s dead now, and there’s nothing we can do for her. The Corp will find her in the morning and decide what to do with it,” I reply. I pull her away from the scene, and the rest of the way back to the city the air chokes on our silence.