Haven (The Last Humans Book 3) (9 page)

I lean back so far that I fall over the railing.

And then I plummet.

From a great height.

Like in my worst nightmare.

“
R
esist opening
your wings for as long as you can,” Phoe tells me. “He’s gliding, which is slower than you falling like a rock.”

I give it my best effort, but a millisecond later, I reposition my body for flight and spread my wings.

At least my wounded foot isn’t getting in the way of flying.

There’s a crowd below me. People are still streaming out of the castle. My plan is simple: I’m going to hide in the swarm of Forebears.

A dagger whooshes past my leg and lodges in the chest of a round-faced female Forebear. Jeanine’s memories supply me with her name: Vivian. She’s from a different epoch and was fond of pottery, though she wasn’t very good at it. To stay semi-sane, I ignore the other facts flitting through my mind. Vivian’s eyes are wide with shock as she breaks apart and disappears.

My overclocked heart manages to find room to ache for the woman. She was an innocent bystander. There was no reason for her to get Limbofied.

“At least I captured her resources,” Phoe says out loud. “Which, when combined with the other two Forebears we Limbofied, means I can speak out loud as well as help you navigate. In fact, I can even project myself so you can see me, but I won’t do that yet, since—”

I don’t register the rest of Phoe’s statement because a dagger slices the joint of my wing.

Instinctively, I flex my wing to keep moving, but the pain is excruciating. Losing altitude, I focus on not flapping my wings and gliding like a flying squirrel instead.

“Damn it, Phoe,” I yell at her mentally. “Focus on helping me since you said you can. You’re too preoccupied with your damn computing resources.”

Then, suddenly, I scream, “Help!” without meaning to.

The surrounding people look up at me.

“The horrible news was too much for Samuel,” I continue yelling. “He’s lost it. He’s attacking me!”

A dagger stabs me in my side just as I join a large group of Forebears that momentarily block me from my pursuer.

Through the burning pain of my wounds, I hear people yelling angry questions at the Guardian, which means Phoe’s plan is working.

“Consider closing your eyes for this next part,” Phoe says. She sounds as if she’s a few feet above me.

I refuse to close my eyes, and then, with a jolt, I fly upward. Someone is standing there. Ignoring the pain, I spread my wings to block my actions from any onlookers. Without any further ado, I summon a new fan into my hands and stab the man in the eye with it.

Like every other time Phoe took over, I don’t feel her controlling me during this macabre sequence. I assume she makes me do this, because I doubt I would’ve had the strength to move while in all this agony, and even if I did, I’m not sure I could have done something so cold and savage. True, I did get rid of Benjamin by slicing his throat, and I dealt with the Guardian afterwards, but there’s a world of difference between Limbofying a member of the Circle or self-defense and attacking a random bystander. At least that’s what I try to tell my conscience as the man begins to disintegrate.

“I’m sorry,” Phoe whispers. “My only justification is that it’s not the end for him, and we had no other choice.”

I belatedly recognize the man through Jeanine’s memories. His name was Chester. He and Jeanine rarely spoke, but she always admired his culinary skills, something he’d been perfecting for a century.

In the midst of all the commotion, and with my wings blocking their view, no one seems to have noticed my actions. Everyone is focused on my pursuer, though with him shouting accusations about Jeanine, it’s only a matter of time before their attention turns back to me.

Suddenly, a sense of vertigo overcomes me. Only Phoe’s control prevents me from folding my wings and plummeting. When the world stops spinning, I realize my pain is gone, but my body feels very strange.

The Guardian finally pushes his way through the flying mob. He looks to his right and to his left.

“We have to keep fleeing before he sees me,” I think at Phoe.

She doesn’t respond, but I can almost sense her holding her breath.

Samuel glances at me, then keeps scanning his surroundings as though I’m not the person he’s looking for.

I blink, not understanding, and then I notice that my wings are no longer those of an owl. I think these wings belong to a bird called the needle-tailed swift, allegedly the fastest bird in the Zoo.

“That depends on what you mean by fastest,” Phoe says in that pedantic way of hers. “The peregrine falcon is the fastest bird when it comes to diving, but the needletail is the fastest when it comes to flight. This is another reason why poor Chester was such a good target.”

This is when it dawns on me: I just saw the wings that surround me on Chester, right before Phoe used my hand to stab him.

“I had to shape-shift you into someone Samuel would not suspect,” Phoe explains. “It couldn’t be any of the other Guardians or Vivian, since he might’ve seen her Limbofy. That only left me with one choice: to Limbofy someone new. Chester’s wings will be useful for the next part of my plan, and he was so close… I hope that makes you feel better about the whole ordeal.”

It doesn’t, but I don’t argue. I just want to get out of here.

“Me too,” Phoe says.

I slowly glide downward, amazed at how different it feels to fly with new wings. Then again, my whole body is different.

When I’m completely out of the Guardian’s view, I fly in earnest, pushing my way through frightened Forebears when I have to.

A surprising number of Haven citizens are flying in the same direction as me, but I’m going much faster.

As I fly, I see a large flock of Guardians gathered together, discussing something as they glide through the air.

I keep flying up toward the dome.

To my huge relief, no one asks me a single question as I pass them. When I feel the dome’s soap-like texture on my wings, I exhale a breath that I must’ve been holding for half an hour.

I’m not sure if Phoe knows where we’re going. To me, it looks like a randomly selected direction. I try to access a memory to help me figure out where we’re heading, but it doesn’t work.

“I didn’t bother giving you access to Chester’s memories,” Phoe says.

I follow her voice and see that she gave herself a visible appearance again, only this time she didn’t make it look even remotely realistic.

Phoe is miniscule, like a fairy. She’s flying backward, her miniature head smiling at me mischievously.

“I look exactly the way I did before.” The tiny fairy-Phoe strikes a model-like pose. “I reduced my size to lighten your mood.”

“Well, it’s not working,” I lie and resist the urge to touch the tiny creature. “My mood would improve if you told me where we’re heading, and I’d be ecstatic if you also told me we’re safe.”

Besides her size, what makes Phoe’s current look surreal is that I don’t ram into her despite flying at this speed.

“I’m just in your mind at the moment, so you won’t crash into me, and yes, we’re safe.” Phoe fluffs up her pixie hair. “We’re flying toward the Sanctum, where the Circle are. We have to beat the mob and the Guardians there.”

As if on cue, my needletail wings flap faster.

“Wait,” I say out loud. “Isn’t that like the proverbial flight out of the fire and into the frying pan?”

“We have to do this.” Phoe’s tiny face gets serious. “Benjamin’s memories aren’t enough for me to battle the virus. I could only confirm what we already know: that there
is
a virus.”

We fly in silence as I digest what I’ve learned so far. Phoe has now at least doubled her resources, which explains her ability to create this fairy illusion and control my body while it’s shape-shifted. More importantly, Phoe has retrieved the memories of a member of the Circle in the hope that he’ll know something about the virus—the whole point of our Central Island misadventure.

“Yes, it was.” Phoe’s tiny lips form a pout. “Unfortunately, Benjamin didn’t have any critical information. Here, let me show you. I’ll keep flying for you as you experience this.”

Without any preparation, I’m suddenly standing in a room, surrounded by a large circle of Forebears.

The room is barren, with only a large mirror in the middle.

I understand what’s happening this time. I’m immersed in Benjamin’s memories. He’s confused because he doesn’t understand what could be so urgent that Davin would gather everyone in this room. Through Benjamin’s eyes, I scan the Circle. Benjamin knows their names, so I do too.

I can’t help but focus on the people I’ve seen before. Wayne—the first Envoy I ever saw—is on my right. And there’s Davin, whose face appeared in the clouds to announce the big meeting. I also recognize the face of the newest member of the Circle, a face I’ve grown to loathe.

Jeremiah’s face.

“I have reasons to believe an ancient enemy, one of the nightmares we’ve chosen to Forget, has resurfaced in Oasis.” Davin looks everyone over with his deep blue eyes. “Even worse, I believe this AI is working to destroy everything we’ve created.”

Inside Benjamin’s mind, I can literally feel Benjamin’s feet turn cold. The rest of the Circle—especially Jeremiah—looks absolutely horrified.

“Let me first give you the facts,” Davin says and proceeds to tell the Circle the same story Wayne told Brandon. He tells them how my score on the Test put my name on Davin’s radar, and how I was a Youth who somehow became an Elderly Council member. He also provides a list of reasons he thinks an AI was behind it all.

“So what do we do?” Benjamin asks evenly, though I know he’s just acting composed. On the inside, the man is about to explode.

“I went into the Forgotten Archives and pulled a recording of myself with instructions on what to do in such a situation.” Davin points at the mirror, where another Davin appears—not a reflection but a recording.

“Greetings,” the recording begins. “If you’re watching this, the unthinkable has happened.” Both Davins cross their arms. “If an AI has appeared in any of Phoenix’s systems, in any capacity, you are likely doomed. Your only chance, and it’s a small one, is to follow protocol V318, stored elsewhere in these Archives. I must caution you, however, that it’s a weapon only for the most desperate of times. Use it as a last resort.”

I can’t help but notice that the word Phoenix, the full name of the spaceship we’re in, is not familiar to Benjamin.

“Because it’s part of the information they chose to Forget,” Phoe says. “There isn’t any other useful info in the rest of this meeting, so let me fast-forward to another memory.”

A moment later, I’m standing in a different area of the same room. The faces around me are filled with greater anxiety.

“I examined the protocol,” Davin says. “Without my now-forgotten technical knowledge, I can’t explain it fully, but to the best of my understanding, the countermeasure is a replicator designed to spread through the computing substrate of the ship, thus taking away the AI’s resources.”

“That sounds like an ancient computer virus,” Wayne says in his organ-sounding voice.

“A crude analogy, but if it helps you understand it, sure, we can call it that,” Davin replies with poorly disguised arrogance. “However, no ancient virus possessed the flexibility and intelligence of this countermeasure.”

The hairs on the back of Benjamin’s neck rise. He wants to ask, “We’re fighting an AI with an AI?” but restrains himself as Davin continues. “Before you panic, the intelligence I speak of would be human, not artificial,” Davin says. “But therein lies the frightening part: one of us has to volunteer to become the seed for the countermeasure.”

The room is dead silent.

“This is why I hoped the word ‘virus’ wouldn’t come up,” Davin says. “No one wants to become a virus, but all of us should want to be the savior of our world. We’re far away from our goal of setting up a perfect human settlement on a distant world. We, the Forebears, have taken it upon ourselves to lead the living, and this AI threatens to bring all of that tumbling down. It is our duty—”

“Assuming one of us is brave enough to volunteer,” Wayne interrupts, “what would happen to all the computing systems in Oasis as this battle for resources ensues?”

“There are too many unknowns to say for sure.” Davin frowns. “Screens may malfunction, which could lead to Youths missing a day or two at the Institute. Lights may flicker. Things like that, I imagine. Whoever takes on this heavy responsibility will be in control at all times, I believe, and he or she can mitigate the risks.”

“Mitigate the risks, my foot,” I think angrily. “They’re about to choose Jeremiah, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Phoe says. “He’s about to volunteer.”

“I don’t want to experience any more of this insanity,” I think at her. “Please take me out.”

Instantly, I’m back in Haven’s sky, flying at breakneck speed among the clouds.

“Those idiots,” I exclaim in a voice that still isn’t my own. I continue mentally. “A fucking Screen malfunction? Really? That was the worst case-scenario they expected?”

“They expunged all memories of their technical expertise from their minds, so they didn’t know what they were messing with,” Phoe says. “Oh, never mind. I have no idea why I just tried to defend the fuckers.”

“And to choose Jeremiah as the virus?” I’m so angry I inadvertently summon a boomerang—which I guess is Chester’s weapon of choice. I throw the boomerang away and try taking calming breaths, but my lungs are working too hard to support the insane speed I’m flying at.

“I think that’s part of the reason things went as disastrously as they did.” Phoe floats closer to my face. “Jeremiah was supposed to act as the intelligence of the resulting abomination. He should’ve been careful when deleting things, should’ve been careful in his multiplying.”

“Right. Jeremiah, the man who embodies rationality.” The fury is threatening to choke me from within. “He killed everyone because he was deathly afraid of you.”

“They all are.” Phoe scrunches her miniscule nose. “It’s ironic that in their fear of technology, they unleashed the very technology that killed everyone.”

I fly silently for a while, too enraged to talk. I think I would have rather the Forebears killed my friends through evil intentions than criminal negligence.