Flight - By Lindsay Leggett Page 0,1

feet, the sky above a faded, burnt tangerine orange. I move soundlessly through the city, crouched low among the rubble, my face covered by a slender anti-radiation mask.

The mutated stink of hundred-year-old garbage, waste, and decay infects my nostrils all the same, putrid waves of burning flesh singing my perception. Still, I stalk my target, striding through the silent, abandoned streets. I keep my eyes on the sky, searching for any sign of flight. Often the survivors of Harpy attacks claim they’ve seen an angel, those majestic wings deceiving them until sharp teeth and talons tear them apart. I know better.

Finally I spot my target, a lone female Harpy circling the sky above me like a hawk. I aim my crossbow to kill, but she’s too quick. As I set loose a bolt, she drops to the ground, landing with a sickening thud. The Harpy hunches before me, her wide, white irises piercing. Long and slender, her body is shaking, shivering, two huge tawny wings flayed out behind her. Blood stains her hands and claws and lips. I brace myself, smirking confidently. My arms are ripped with lean muscle, and my new gloves are tipped with small metal spears. I’m ready.

Without warning, the Harpy springs toward me, sharp talons bared to tear me apart. As she soars downward I roll to the side, catching her thigh with my own makeshift talons. The Harpy squeals, drops to the ground, and quickly rebounds back to her feet with a snarl. She tries to lunge at me again, but the gouge torn out of her leg is hindering, giving me just enough time to unhitch the small crossbow from my back. I leap backwards, nock a bolt with a tinge of red liquid covering the tip and let it loose.

It hits the Harpy square in the chest. Her eyes widen and she wails so loud I need to cover my ears while the tissue surrounding the arrow begins to dry up and crack. Steadily the wound expands, corroding her entire body until nothing remains but ash. The sky begins to fade away, and I pull off my oversized virtual reality helmet.

As my vision fades from black and splotches of light appear, so do the dingy walls of Sandy’s apartment. Sparsely furnished with only a ratty beige couch and a coffee table cluttered with empty pop cans and water bottles, the rest of the humble bachelor is dwarfed with equipment. A huge computer monitor covered in unreadable scrawl, multiple back-up servers and hundreds of wires hang like the vines of the old trees you still see in old books. It looks like a bunch of junk to me, but to Sandy it’s a personal nirvana. Shaking out my long hair, just dyed a bright red, I pull off the electrodes stuck onto my skin and turn to face my operator.

“What do you think?” he asks, unable to quench the excitement of his voice. I can only smile. Sandy Atwood, a goddamned computer genius and he wastes his talent designing training modules for Elder Corp. He doesn’t even realize how much more he could be doing.

“Of the program? It’s fair,” I tease. And yet, here I am testing them for him like I’m still a Hunter, still employed by the Corp instead of scrounging through my days in desperation.

“You know that it’s fantastic,” Sandy jests. He turns off the program, releasing the air-lock on the rest of the cords attached to me. I rip them off my leather VR suit and plop onto his old couch. It might even be comfortable if there weren’t holes torn in the corners releasing bits of yellow-stained cotton fluff.

“It’s good, but you’re missing some important details,” I say seriously. Sandy whirls his computer chair to face me and bows his head, mocking me as if I were a spoiled princess.

“And what might those be, oh wonder Huntress?” he asks. I scoff and roll my eyes. He knows better than anyone that I’m not a Hunter anymore, won’t be a Hunter again, and generally gag at the mention of Elder Corp if there isn’t a fistful of cash involved. But I let him slide, because he’s good to me, even though he knows my past.

“Harpies aren’t feral monsters,” I explain, “They have gender. They have personality, and they speak and act just like us. In battle with a Harpy they’ll do everything in their power to distract you to get an edge. Verbal attacks, taunting, sexual innuendoes: you name it,