Flight of the Golden Harpy (37 page)

Ted shrugged. “That’s okay, Mr. Turner. I could tell you were under a lot of stress. Would you mind if I took Kari to see her golden harpy?”

“That’s up to her,” John said.

“I think I will go with Ted,” Kari said. “If there’s trouble, it’ll appear I’m not with you and Charlie.”

“Considering Shail might react to you,” John said, “it’d be better if you were seen with a young man.”

Ted wrote down his com number and handed it to Kari. “I took off work this weekend. Call me, and I’ll pick you up first thing in the morning.”

Kari, John, and Charlie left the port and took a shuttle to the same hotel where Kari had stayed on her return from Earth. Kari had an adjoining room with her father, and Charlie’s room was across the hall. After cleaning up, they ate in the small dining room off the lobby and then went to their rooms. Tired from the long trip and sleeping in the cramped hover, John and Charlie were eager to stretch out in a real bed, but Kari was excited. Happiness mixed with worry kept her up half the night, for she would finally see Shail.

16

Gus called on his communicator. “Where are the goddamn transports, Bill? We’ve been at the port for a half an hour, and I’m ready for a drink.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes,” said Bill, “and I brought a bottle. Figure you earned it, with the golden. How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine. Mollie’s pampered the hell out of him. I can’t get near it without her throwing a fucking fit.”

“That’s why I hired her. Working with those vets, she learned how to keep a harpy alive, and we’ll need the golden to pay for our investment on this lousy planet. He’s sparking a lot of interest despite the beetle scare. We’re pulling into the port lot now.”

Gus looked at the spaceport gate and saw the headlights of two large truck transports. He turned to the men relaxing against the cages. “The transports are here. Get your lazy asses up.” The trucks drove onto the dark landing field and stopped at the freighter.

Gus’s large brother Bill stepped out of the first truck. Pushing back his greasy hair, he twirled his mustache and walked toward Gus. “Where is he?”

Gus pointed. “By Mollie, she won’t leave his cage.” The two Simpson brothers walked over to the thin handler and the cage.

Bill looked in the dark cage at the sleeping golden. “Is he all right?”

“I just gave him a mild sedative and knocked him out,” Mollie said. “He’d be in better shape if you kept your brother away from him. Gus nearly gave him a heart attack, shocking him with his cattle prod. It’s lucky I showed up when I did.”

Gus frowned. “Look at my face, Bill. That winged bastard kicked the crap out of me when I reached for him. I had to teach him some manners.”

Bill laughed, looking at Gus’s black eye. “The little harpy did that?”

“He caught me off guard,” said Gus. “Never had one fight back.”

“We cannot afford to lose this one, so control your temper,” Bill said, “Let’s get him back to the range. I can’t see him in this light.”

The animals and Shail were loaded in the transports and taken to the range five miles outside Hampton. Shail was put in a separate room, away from the other wild animals.

Bill peered down into the harpy cage while Mollie and Gus stood nearby. He scowled and said, “This harpy could be a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Gus said. “He’s perfect. I didn’t put a mark on him.”

Bill reached through the bars, turned the dozing harpy’s face, and lifted his wing, examining the sleek, handsome frame. “He’s perfect, all right,” Bill said, “maybe too damn perfect. Compared to him, men look like onions. He’s going to melt the heart of every woman who walks through our doors. Plus, you said he doesn’t act like a frightened harpy.”

“Hey, he’s frightened of me and hides when I get near him,” Gus said.

“He’s afraid of your rod, not you,” Mollie said. “There’s a reason this harpy is different, besides having the characteristics of the combative golden line.” She reached into the cage and lifted his wing. “See that little scar? It’s a laser-blast wound, and someone did surgery on it. New feathers have grown in where the wing was broken by a second blast, and he has old rope scars on his wrists and ankles. The harpy was wounded, captured, and treated. He survived hunters and lost his natural animal fear. That’s why he’s so aggressive.”

“The men you got him from probably treated him,” Bill said.

“Not those guys,” Gus said. “The harpy knocked the crap out of them. They were scared to touch him.”

“If the harpy had recently been caged and treated with drugs and force-feeding, he wouldn’t look like this,” said Mollie. “His skin would be pale, and he’d lack muscle tone. He probably escaped and has been free for some time.”

Gus poked the harpy. “I could fix his pretty looks and have him shaking like a brown, Bill. Just give him to me for one day.”

“And how many hunters will pay good money for a banged-up harpy?” Bill grumbled and glanced at Mollie. “How do you feel about killing this harpy?”

Mollie placed her hand on the golden. “It makes me sick that such a rare and beautiful creature is going to be destroyed.”

Gus chuckled. “Yeah, Mollie wants a zoo to buy him.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mollie,” Bill said. “Zoos don’t have that kind of money, but that’s what concerns me. I’ve already advertised that the golden will be on display Saturday and Sunday to the general public. One look at this pretty boy, the women will be outraged, not to mention the goddamn animal rights people. They’ll be protesting we’re killing the last golden. It’ll be bad for business and bad for the bidding hunters. I wish I’d seen the harpy earlier and made the auction invitation-only. Jesus, I even have reporters coming on Friday to write a story and take pictures.”

“So what are you going to do, Bill?” Gus asked.

“Hope we get rid of him before the public organizes. Keep him heavily sedated and overfed Wednesday and Thursday. Friday morning we’ll pull the feeding tube and take him off the drugs. He’ll get his balance back and hold his weight till Monday’s auction.”

The harpy stirred in the cage. “He’s coming out of it,” Mollie said.

“Good,” Bill said. “I want to see this attitude of his.”

*   *   *

Shail opened his eyes and saw Mollie leaning over his cage. He then noticed Gus, and another large man. He made a low seething sound.

“He also has blue eyes instead of green,” the new man grumbled. “Goddamn it, he’s going to melt hearts and have women blubbering.”

“All goldens have blue eyes,” Mollie said.

Shail saw the rod in Gus’s hand and became quiet, lowering his head in his wing.

“He saw Gus’s rod,” Mollie said. “I told you he’s scared of it.”

“Get rid of the damn cattle prod,” Bill growled at Gus. “I want to see how he’ll act when he’s put on display.”

To Shail’s surprise Gus was obedient and removed the rod. When Gus returned, Shail lifted his head and gazed at the men.

Bill twisted his mustache. “Look at his antagonistic stare. He’s not a bit frightened.”

Shail looked around the small room for an escape, but there was none. Bill put his hand through his cage bars, and Shail hissed, wrinkled his nose, and showed his teeth. Bill poked Shail’s rib, and Shail lunged to bite, but was restrained by chains and unable to sink his teeth into the hand. The man continued to prod him, and each assault built Shail’s rage. He shook his hair, twisted in the shackles, and attempted to strike with his folded wing. His hisses became louder.

“He’d love to take off my hand,” Bill said. “You keep poking a dog with a stick, he’ll eventually turn into one vengeful animal. The same could be done with the harpy. The hunters would pay a fortune for a vicious harpy, and if he’s crashing into the cage bars to attack, the public won’t think he’s so appealing.”

“You could break his spirit,” Mollie said, “and then he’d be like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs; not a very pretty sight.”

“He survived those blast wounds and Gus’s rod,” Bill said. “He won’t break down. Change of plans. We’ll take him off the drugs on Thursday. Gus, you’ll have all day to torment him, but I don’t want him hurt. By Friday he’ll be pissed off and wanting to kill every man he sees.”

Gus grinned. “I can get him like that.”

“Don’t do it, Bill,” Mollie said. “No amount of torment is going to make him crash into the bars. I guarantee you’ll destroy him, and he’ll lie in a cage corner suffering from shock. He could die.”

Bill walked to the doorway “That’s why I pay you to keep the harpy alive. Things won’t get out of hand. Gus knows he’s valuable. Go ahead and drug him. I’m ready for a drink.” Bill and Gus left the room.

“Morons,” Mollie grumbled and pulled out a sedative. “Sleep now, my prince, and save your strength. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.”

Shail detected Mollie’s anger and also her sadness and helplessness. She couldn’t protect him from Gus and later, a cruel death. For the first time he nuzzled her caressing hand before drifting to sleep.

*   *   *

The following day and night Shail was unconscious, but Thursday morning he woke, feeling bloated from overfeeding. He was still in the same room that was virtually empty except for his cage. His stomach ached, and it hurt to swallow. Squirming in his bonds, he noticed the catheter tube had been removed from his sex organ. He heard the door open and strained to see Mollie, but Gus entered. Shail stared up, and Gus reached through the bars to grab his hair. Shail swiftly reacted and jerked his head to bite him.

“Pretty damn brave when I don’t have my rod,” Gus said and left the room.

Gus came back carrying the rod and adjusted the setting. Shail breathed hard, gripped the chains, and attempted to cover himself with his wing. Gus touched his stomach with the rod. It stung, but the pain was milder, compared to the warehouse abuse.

“Don’t hurt as bad? Now let’s get you worked up,” he said. He reached through the bars, ripping off Shail’s sash, dropping it on the floor. He held his wing back. Jamming the rod between Shail’s legs, he released a shock.

Shail went nuts, frantically flailing his body and wings in the narrow cage and thrashing on his chains. Gus hit him several more times, and Shail’s yellow feathers were littering the floor.

In his office, Bill heard the racket and the panicked harpy’s hisses. He walked into the room. “What the hell are you doing, Gus?”

“Making him mean,” Gus said. “If anyone stung my balls, I’d kill them.”

“You’re not a damn harpy, and you’re only terrifying him. Look at his goddamn feathers on the floor,” he yelled. “Get rid of that fucking rod.”

Gus glared at Bill. “Don’t yell at me, Bill. I’m not a kid anymore, and my money paid for this range. You wouldn’t even have the harpy, if it weren’t for me.”

Bill calmed down. “All right, but use some common sense. Those loose feathers are like gold. If he’s banged up, has damaged wings, or goes into shock, he won’t be worth shit. Think of a way to turn him into a man-killer without hurting him. I have a lot of office work, with the auction.” Bill left the room.

Gus looked down at the harpy. “What makes a male harpy angry?” He grinned and walked out of the room.

Shail closed his eyes and wished the hunt would begin. At least he’d be free of his restraints and able to fight back. They want me to hate, he thought. Although it was a common emotion for humans, hate was unnatural and frightening for harpies. The emotion wiped all reason from a gentle mind. Shail had briefly experienced hate when Kari was attacked by the mountain hunters. He lost control and nearly beat the men to death. A golden ruler couldn’t afford to hate. Too many relied on his judgment. I must fight the anger and keep the hope of my escape, he thought. Without hope, the depression would come, but slowly his will to live was whittling away.

Gus returned with his warehouse sidekicks, Lester and Bert. Lester held a five-season-old fledgling. Gus opened the top of Shail’s cage. “Throw it in there. Let him get friendly with this orphan,” he said. Lester placed the fledgling on top of Shail, and Gus slammed the cage door closed. “Let’s get a bottle.” The men left the room, leaving Shail with the young harpy.

The fledgling sniffled, and Shail raised his wing, offering cover. He crawled over Shail’s body, sliding behind his back and under his feathers. Resting his chin on Shail’s ribs, the fledgling gazed at the yellow feathers.

“Your pale wings means you are our great ruler,” relayed the fledgling. “My father has told me the stories of the brave goldens. Will you protect me?”

Shail massaged the fledgling’s head with his wing. “I cannot make such a promise, for I, too, am helpless. How did you come to be here?”

“A metal bird flew faster than I, and with the sting, I fell to the ground. The hunters put me in a cage and waited for my father. He came, and their weapons found him. I watched my dad slowly die. The hunters brought me here. Master, I am very afraid.”

“Come closer,” Shail said. The fledgling snuggled up under his chin, and Shail licked and nuzzled the little guy until he fell asleep. Shail breathed deeply, realizing Gus’s motives. The men would see his rage if they harmed the fledgling.

Hours passed, and Shail heard Gus’s voice and the door opened. The fledgling woke and quickly hid under Shail’s wing. Gus and the two men peered down into the cage. Shail seethed and hit the bars with his wing.

“What did I tell ya?” Gus chuckled. “He’s defending the fledgling. Get the little one out.” Gus opened the cage, and Shail tried to beat them back with one wing. Bert grabbed his flapping wing while Lester snatched out the fledgling. Gus closed the cage. “Hold the little sucker still,” he said to Lester.

Shail noticed the shocking rod in Gus’s hand and heard the fledgling’s silent pleas for help. Hoping to distract the men, he recklessly bashed his wings against the bars and wildly twisted on the top chains while his feet kicked the metal cage.

“He sure is mad,” Bert said.

“That’s the point,” Gus said. “Wait till I shock it.” As Lester held the fledgling out, Gus touched its stomach with the rod. The little harpy shook, urinated, and then went limp.

Shail stopped thrashing and closed his eyes. The fledgling’s silent screams no longer entered his mind.