Flight of the Golden Harpy Page 2

  “Yes, I was born on Dora.”

  “Wow, a real native,” Ted said, and leaned closer. “I didn’t know Dorians were so attractive.”

  Kari blushed with the compliment, but it wasn’t her first. As a teenager, she had many boys ask her out, but the dates always ended uncomfortably. Years of seclusion had made her reserved, and she hid her true passions. Having no interest in their modern machine-run world, she ended the dating drudgery, declining their offers. She sensed that Ted was more interested in her than in Dora’s wildlife, but she tried to be courteous. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, everything,” said Ted. “Tell me about the harpies.”

  “The harpies are very intelligent, but shy creatures. They have striking human bodies and large wings that—”

  “I’ve heard their mounted wings are worth twenty-thousand credits,” Ted broke in. “That’s a year’s salary for me. Is that true?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she said, standing. “I have to go.”

  “Wait a minute. Since you know Hampton, maybe you could show me around. I’d love to buy you dinner.”

  “I don’t think so, but you’ll find plenty of Hampton girls who will give you a tour and tell you the price of a dead harpy’s wings.”

  Kari left the dining room and walked down the long corridors that led to her cabin. Halfway down the empty hall, she stopped and leaned against a railing. A tear rolled down her face. “What is wrong with me?” she stammered. The friendly young man couldn’t have known that the subject of trophy wings repulsed her. She heard footsteps and glanced up. It was Ted.

  “I’m sorry. I apparently upset you.” He kicked at the floor and shook his head. “I get so darned nervous around a pretty woman and always end up putting my foot in my mouth. You really care about harpies.”

  “Now I feel ridiculous,” she said, wiping away the tears. “I should be apologizing to you. I don’t deal well with people, and become overly offensive when it comes to harpy hunting. I should’ve explained that I owe my life to a male harpy.”

  “Really?” Ted leaned against the railing. “I can see why mounted wings would rub you wrong. Do you think you could give me another chance? I left everyone I knew back on Earth, and I’m rather lonely here. I’m hoping to make Dora my home, so I’d like to learn more about your planet.”

  “Okay,” she said, and they walked back to the dining room. Sitting down at the table, Kari told Ted about her home. “Dora is half the size of Earth, but similar to Earth; it’s mostly a freshwater ocean with one large continent and hundreds of islands to the west. Except for the cold mountains, the tropical temperature doesn’t vary much, warm during the day and cool at night. There are two seasons, the wet and dry. The multicolor jungle trees are enormous. Timber is Dora’s main export. Like the harpies, half the animals have wings to navigate through the thick foliage. But Dora’s most notorious creatures are the large, warm-blooded reptiles.”

  “Dora sounds like one great adventure,” said Ted.

  Kari smiled. “It’s a dangerous adventure if you don’t know your way around. There’re man-eating plants, and the red dragons resemble a giant T. Rex. During the wet season, the torrential rains and storms are hurricane strength. That’s why you won’t find any high-rises on Dora. Even technology is limited due to the wet climate and since Dora is off the beaten path.”

  She then talked about the harpies, and the young golden male who had risked his life to save hers.

  “I always thought harpies were nasty female monsters.”

  “That’s Earth’s old fabled definition, but it doesn’t apply to Dora’s harpies. In fact, I’ve never seen one of the females.”

  Ted leaned back in the chair. “Fighting that eel creature, harpies must be pretty gutsy.”

  “Actually, they’re terrified of people and very elusive, so little is known about them except they’re voiceless, tree-dwelling vegetarians. The brown-winged, dark-haired harpies are the most prevalent. The goldens were a rare subspecies, more aggressive, and known to dominate the flocks. Sadly, hunters want them the most. When I left, they were nearly wiped out.” She bit her lip, and said softly, “I hope the golden I met is still alive.”

  Ted reached across the table and took her hand. “I hope so, too. I can tell you care about him.”

  “Very much.” She smiled and changed the subject. “So, why are you going to Dora? You don’t look like a lumberjack or hunter.”

  “Hardly.” Ted chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m your average city boy. I have a degree in computers and spacecraft repair, but jobs are scarce on Earth, so I answered a Dora ad for a job in Hampton Port. I hope it works out.”

  Kari heard his uncertainty. “It will. And once you see Dora, you won’t have any regrets.”

  “I don’t regret this trip. After all, I met you. I sure hope we can be friends, Kari.”

  Kari stared into Ted’s brown eyes and had noticed his good looks. They were both the same age of twenty-one and recent college graduates. More important, she detected his sincerity and kindness. “Ted, I believe we are friends.”

  “Then as a friend, Miss Kari Turner, I’ll make you a promise. I’ll do all I can to help your harpies.”

  * * *

  Ted was delighted to spend the next few days aboard the ship with the stunning blonde. His heart fluttered every time he gazed into Kari’s big blue eyes. The ship maneuvered into orbit around Dora, and they wandered to the crowded observatory to see the planet. “I need to start work as soon as we land,” he said, “since I’m low on credits.”

  “You asked me to dinner when we met. How were you going to swing that?” Kari joked.

  “If you had said yes to our date, I would have gladly spent my last credit and slept in the streets.”

  Kari’s eyes brightened. “That’s sweet of you.”

  A woman standing nearby talked to her small daughter about their new home on the planet.

  Kari leaned toward Ted. “I wish I had known my mother.”

  Ted had heard about Kari’s father and their rocky relationship. After all this time, she still resented him. But she had never mentioned her mother. Turning from the window, he asked, “Where is she?”

  “She’s dead. She died when I was a baby—some kind of accident. My father refused to discuss it. I just wonder how my life might have been if she had lived. Would she have saved me … stopped him from sending me to Earth? Would she have understood my love for the harpies? Just questions I have.”

  “Some questions are never answered.” Ted put his arm around her slender waist. “I don’t know your dad, but I think I know you. With your passion for nature, Earth must have been a living hell. Whatever his reasons, your father was wrong to send you to those schools.”

  She put her arm around him, and they gazed at Dora in silence.

  * * *

  The following day, large shuttles pulled up alongside the spaceship to unload the passengers and cargo. Kari and Ted were among the first to board for the trip to the planet. An hour later, the shuttle descended and landed inside Hampton’s spacious domed port. They gathered their belongings, departed the shuttle, and walked past the huge off-loaded crates containing small hovercrafts, terrain vehicles, and even cattle fetuses. On the other side of the port stood towering stacks of Dora’s exotic timber that would make the return flight. The blue, red, yellow, and white colors displayed the variety of trees on the planet.

  They walked to an information counter and got in line behind a few people. “Ted, you don’t have to wait with me,” said Kari.

  “I’m not scheduled for work until tomorrow. I’ll wait and make sure you catch the next hover to Terrance.”

  Kari smiled, happy for the first time not to be alone. Eventually, she approached the counter and a middle-aged woman. “I need a ticket for Terrance.”

  “There are no more flights today,” said the woman. “The earliest one leaves at noon tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take a one-way ticket on it,” Kari
said, doling out her credits.

  “We have one more night together. I’ll buy dinner if you show me around Hampton.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Kari said as they walked toward the exit. “I have more credits than you, and besides, I don’t know this city. I was here only once when I was a kid.”

  “How about Dutch on dinner, and we’ll explore Hampton together, unless you’re tired of me.”

  “Not yet.” She smiled.

  “Great. Let me ask those cargo guys about a decent hotel. I’ve heard some places in Hampton are rough.” He jogged over to three men unloading crates and returned in minutes. “They say there’s one down the street that’s decent and reasonable. Prices are cheap here compared to Earth. I might also stay there.”

  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.