Flight of the Golden Harpy (3 page)

They stepped outside, and Kari paused to gaze at the two- and three-story wooden buildings that lined the street. A warm breeze pulled her long hair off her shoulders as she breathed deeply. After a decade of stale, filtered air, she inhaled the wonderful aroma of trees and flowers even in the heart of the large capital city of Hampton.

Ted stood back and watched her before glancing up at majestic blue trees that shaded the buildings and street. Ten-inch purple flowers adorned the spaceport and surrounding buildings. He reached down to pick one.

“Don’t touch,” she said, pointing to a warning sign. “They bite. They’re insect eaters but might mistake your finger for dinner. Like all of Dora, they’re beautiful, but hazardous.” Leaving Ted, she bounced down the port steps like a child at a theme park.

He caught up with her on the sidewalk. “Do you want to get a ride to the hotel?”

“I’d rather walk,” she mumbled, and stepped to the first tree. Dropping her bags, she put her arms around its trunk as if the tree were a long-lost friend. She stroked the bark and sniffed its sweet resin.

Ted put his hand over his mouth, concealing a grin. “You’re one unusual girl, Kari—definitely different from Earth girls. I’ve never seen anyone hug a tree.”

Kari withdrew from the tree. “I just missed them.”

They walked down the street, and periodically, she stopped to admire another Dora treasure. They arrived at the hotel and entered the quaint lobby adorned with massive yellow beams.

“Let’s drop our bags in our rooms and meet back here,” she said. “I can’t be indoors now.” Ted agreed, and they soon were back on the streets of Hampton.

Kari felt a renewed sense of well-being as though the humid air contained a magic potion that healed her tortured soul. They walked for miles, discovering the city of wood. Beyond the buildings, kaleidoscopic forests covered the distant hills. They reached the coast and stood on a cliff, overlooking the emerald ocean that blended with a pale purple and green horizon. The waves lapped against the black rocky shore, leaving white foam as they receded.

“Jesus, Kari,” Ted mumbled. “I’ve never dreamed a place could be so beautiful.”

She nodded and stared up the beach at the seaport. Several large hydroplane barges laden with lumber maneuvered into the docks. “I wonder if the timber came from my home.”

“Your home in Terrance?” Ted asked as they walked a winding, sandy path to the beach.

“My father’s estate isn’t in Terrance,” she said, “but Terrance is the only town in the western outback with a large airport for commercial hovercrafts. My home is on the west coast near a little village called Westend. When I reach Terrance, I’ll rent a terrain vehicle and drive the five hundred miles on the dirt highway through the true jungle. It’ll take two days, but it’s worth it.”

“Alone? That sounds awfully risky. Maybe you should…”

She stopped walking to glare at him. “Ted, this is my home. I’m safer in that jungle than I was on the streets of Earth.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

“Thank you,” she said, and resumed walking.

“Why did your father move so far from civilization?”

“It was my grandfather who settled the outback. He’d traveled to Russia and witnessed the fall of the last great forest. It disgusted him. When he, my grandmother, and a young Indian named Charlie came to Dora, they hacked out a living in the remote jungle. My grandfather was a great man and a nature advocate. For every cut tree, he planted a seedling, and he taught me everything about the jungle. I still remember our long trips with Charlie into the wild. When grandpa died, Charlie became my mentor and guide. I really have missed that old Indian. He’s the only person who never gave me grief for my fascination with harpies.”

Walking the coast, they came upon a run-down seafood shack, built half over the water. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry,” Ted said. “You want to try this place?”

“It’s perfect,” she answered. Sitting on the outside deck, Ted inhaled a large bowl of seafood chowder, and Kari relished a dish of Dora’s exotic fruit. They finished the meal with white cakes covered in a wine-drenched berry sauce.

Ted stretched back in the rickety wooden chair as a gentle ocean breeze whipped at his hair. “I’ve eaten in some fancy, expensive places,” he said, “but who would have guessed this shack offered the best food and scenery.”

“Dora’s fresh food is superior, and the ocean view is lovely.”

He leaned over the table and gazed into her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the ocean.”

Kari grinned shyly. Ted was obviously smitten with her and was cute in his sometimes awkward hints to let her know.

Darkness crept into the sky, and the first of Dora’s twin moons appeared on the horizon. Kari and Ted made their way down the quiet streets until they reached the hotel. In the lobby, Ted took her hand. “I guess this is good-bye. I hope I’ll see you again.”

“You will. When you get settled, call me.” She got up the nerve and kissed his cheek before leaving for her hotel room.

Her room was small but comfortable. Kari took a quick shower and collapsed on the soft bed. She felt exhilarated. This had been one of the best days she could remember, and she liked Ted. He was easygoing and fun, but more important, he didn’t criticize her convictions. “Maybe there’s hope for me yet,” she thought, and snuggled under the sheets. She soon drifted to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Kari felt his lean-muscled frame over her and his soft panting breath against her neck. She opened her eyes into layers of tumbling blond locks that shimmered in the moonlight. Pushing his hair aside, she met his gaze—the same royal-blue eyes from the past. His yellow wings nervously fluttered, and she stroked his head. Calmed by her touch, he relaxed and the feathered limbs collapsed, encasing them. She was engulfed in his sweet animal scent as he nuzzled and tenderly nipped her neck.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she breathed.

The golden harpy lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes sparkling between the thick lashes. He made a subtle sniffle conveying that he, too, had longed for her. Kari’s heart pounded and she shivered, inflamed by the seductive creature. He pulled away and rose. His emotionless face gazed down at her, but then he swallowed down a sigh. In a puff, he was gone.

Kari jolted forward on the bed and looked around her empty room. Drenched in sweat and trembling, she made her way to the window and door. She found them securely locked. “It was a dream,” her shaky voice said, “but so real.” Never had a dream been so vivid. She sat down, collecting herself, and thought about the breathtaking harpy. Many times she had dreamed about him, but none of those dreams were this intense. Eventually, she drifted back to sleep.

2

The morning light filtered through the drawn blinds and woke Kari. As she showered and dressed, her mind was focused on the dream. She closed her eyes and could still see him, feel him, smell him. She then remembered the terrible man on the ship had said there were harpies at the Hampton Zoo. She hastily packed and rushed to the lobby.

“How far away is the Hampton Zoo?” she asked the hotel clerk.

“Not far, but it doesn’t open until nine,” he said.

Kari thanked him and wandered into the hotel restaurant for a light breakfast. Her hover flight left at noon, so she had the time. Glancing around the dining area, she hoped to see Ted, but he wasn’t there. After eating some biscuits and juice, she caught a shuttle to the zoo.

Kari waited as the zoo cashier opened the gates. “Three credits,” the woman said.

“Do you have harpies?”

“We have two brown fledglings,” the cashier responded, taking Kari’s money.

Kari entered the sprawling grounds and hurried past the exhibits, glancing briefly. Each animal brought back a cherished memory of encounters in the wild. She could have spent days in this place.

A sign read
WINGED,
and she hurried down the path, passing aviaries of flying reptiles and birds. The last were the mammals. Many were batlike creatures, the size of a large dog and smaller. They fell into the six-limb category.

Finally, she came to a large cage.
HARPY
was posted on the bars. Peering up into the tree branches, she saw them. All her excitement diminished to sorrow. They weren’t the majestic creatures she remembered from her childhood. Instead, she saw two pathetic male fledglings with tattered wings. They slept curled up on the wide branch with their frail arms wrapped around each other for warmth and security. With their thin nude frames, matted locks, and broken quill feathers, they resembled five-year-old children who were refugees of war.

“You poor little guys,” she said softly.

One fledgling opened his green eyes and gazed at her. Spreading his tiny wings, he glided down to the cage bars, curiously slanted his head, and studied her. After a moment, he put his arm through the bars and made a grabbing motion, but a rope strung between the cage and the path kept them apart. More zoo visitors approached, but the fledgling ignored them. Soon the second fledging joined him and his antics.

“I don’t have any food,” Kari said, hoping to appease them.

An older man wearing a zoo uniform approached Kari. “You’re not allowed to feed the animals, miss,” he said sternly.

One of the onlookers broke in. “She hasn’t fed them. We’ve been watching.”

The zookeeper rubbed his chin and watched the small harpies. “They usually keep their distance and only come close at feeding time,” he said. “For some reason, miss, they like you.”

“And I like them,” Kari said.

“You must’ve recently arrived on Dora.” The zookeeper chuckled. “The local Dorians consider them pests, like rats.”

“I did arrive yesterday from Earth, but I was born on Dora and have always liked the harpies. They’re so elegant, and resemble humans. I don’t understand the Dorians’ animosity toward them.”

“I admit harpies are pretty things, but they have an ugly reputation. Harpy is a Greek word meaning ‘to steal,’ and in Greek mythology, they were loathsome, winged beasts. When Dora was first settled and there were many harpy flocks, men had to guard their wives and daughters since harpies would take them. That’s why these creatures were named harpies.”

“I don’t believe those old stories,” Kari said flatly. “A harpy saved me from a mogel and flew me home. He had plenty of opportunity to kidnap me.”

The stout keeper frowned at Kari. “And when did this happen?”

“Ten years ago in the outback.” She reached down and pulled up her khaki pants. “Here’s the scar from the mogel bite.”

“Would you mind talking to our new vet? He’s doing research on the harpies but hasn’t had much luck with information. He’d love to hear your story.”

Kari glanced at her timepiece. “I have to catch a noon flight, but could spare a few minutes.”

The zookeeper escorted Kari to a building marked for employees. She waited in an office and heard men’s voices behind a door.

“She’s in the office, Doctor.” The door opened and a middle-aged man appeared, followed by the zookeeper.

The doctor raised one eyebrow, scrutinizing Kari. “I’m Dr. Watkins,” he said, extending his hand. “Mike says you like harpies and had physical contact with one. Would you mind telling me about it?”

The vet’s skepticism matched her own. “Why are you studying the harpies?”

“Dora’s government hired me,” said Watkins. “I’m a genetic expert and conduct studies on threatened species, their habits, and environment. If I can find hard evidence that harpies are endangered, new laws may be imposed to limit or ban hunting until they recover.”

“I see,” Kari said. “Since your study might help the harpies, I’ll tell you about my incident, but it happened when I was a child. I don’t see how it’ll benefit your research now.”

“Any information on these mysterious creatures is valuable,” said Watkins.

Both men listened intently as she told them about the lake and the golden harpy.

“That’s remarkable,” Watkins commented when she finished. “Plenty of men have documented their hunts, but you’re the first woman to discuss an encounter with a feral and uninjured harpy.” Dr. Watkins seemed no longer dubious of her story. “You asked this golden male to take you home, and he flew you there, knowing where you lived?”

“Yes,” Kari said. “Is that so amazing?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Either the harpy understood the English language or it sensed your desires and where you lived. It’s unlikely a wild harpy knows our language, so it relied on its instincts. The sixth sense or instincts allow animals to communicate with one another. I’m betting you also have strong instincts.” Watkins smiled. “The creature probably sensed you liked him. That’s why he helped you.”

“But, Dr. Watkins,” the old keeper said, “those fledglings understand and come when I call, especially if food is involved.”

“Most animals can be trained to respond to certain words, but Kari spoke to a wild harpy, and not only did it take her home, but he also treated her wound and tied a strip of cloth on her leg. It proves these creatures are intelligent, even gentle.”

“Have you ever tried talking to an adult harpy?”

“Talking?” He sighed. “There’s never been time for talk. I was told that the adults die in captivity, but a month ago, I had the zoo purchase two stunned males from hunters. The harpies immediately curled up in a ball and suffered from shock. I managed to treat the shock, but one still died the following night from a heart attack. The remaining harpy wouldn’t eat or drink and had to be tube fed. I was finally making real progress with the little fellow and released him into a larger cage. Before he could be restrained, he flew against the bars and broke his neck. I’ve never dealt with such difficult and fragile creatures. Learning how they communicate or if they’re intelligent are on the bottom of my list.”

Watkins wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s impossible to get an accurate count on the flocks, and the few harpies that are sighted, caught, or killed are always males. Their females and breeding grounds have yet to be discovered. It’s rumored they nest on the western islands. Our zoo’s fledglings came from there.”