Haven (The Last Humans Book 3) (8 page)

F
lying
as Jeanine is almost fun, because accessing her experience and muscle memories forged from centuries of flying somehow dampens my fear of heights. The sight of the islands around me triggers memories that further distract me from my anxiety.

To my right is a large island that belongs to Iris. Even from this far, I can see the pink circle of Iris’s giant rose garden, a feat that took her three hundred years of calculations and care to develop.

To my left is Caleb’s island, with perfect statues that depict every person the man has ever laid eyes on—in precise anatomical detail.

I pass by the unremarkable wilderness of the island belonging to Sara, one of my—I mean, Jeanine’s—closest friends. Sara has spent the last fifty years meditating and writing poetry in iambic pentameter. Given how close she was to Jeanine, I recall what Sara looks like and make a mental note to avoid her, since she might know Jeanine intimately enough to pick up on any irregularities I might introduce to Jeanine’s behavior.

As I get closer to Central Island, more winged people come into view, all headed in the same direction as me. By the time the giant dome of the island is visible, the trickle of people looks like a huge flock of birds.

I enter the dome and expertly start my descent, taking care to avoid even small crowds and anyone who was more than an acquaintance to Jeanine.

Central Island is huge—at least ten Oasises would fit comfortably inside it—and it’s spectacular. It looks as though someone took every major ancient wonder, spruced it up, and placed it somewhere on the island. I use Jeanine’s memories to recall that the structures are themed based on the area of ancient Earth they came from. The Statue of Liberty is near the replica of what can only be the Empire State Building, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa is near the Coliseum.

“It’s like the largest theme park ever created,” Phoe comments. “Especially given our destination.”

She has a point.

The giant castle everyone is flying toward looks suspiciously like the one in the beginning of Disney movies, only scaled up to where the top spire threatens to pierce the island’s dome.

I land on the cobblestones leading to the massive castle gateway. The crowd of Forebears is so dense I have no trouble remaining incognito as I enter the enormous hall where the meeting is supposed to take place. I struggle not to let the memories overwhelm me as I recognize the faces surrounding me; if I let every piece of information flood in, my brain will melt from the overload.

Phoe snickers. “Brain melting is a physical impossibility for you now—if it ever was possible—but your approach is sound. Keep your head down and get as close to the front of the hall as you can.”

I carefully push my way through the wings and limbs blocking my path. It’s a menagerie of scantily clothed, Youth-looking bodies, and on any other day, my proximity to them would affect me. Today, however, I examine them clinically. No one pays me much attention; they’re all preoccupied exchanging theories about this meeting.

“A new member so soon? Jeremiah didn’t spend even a day as the Envoy,” I overhear a red-haired man say.

“No,” says a tall woman. “I think this has something to do with—”

I lose track of their conversation in the cacophony of voices around me. In Oasis, we never had gatherings so large. At the crush of so many people, I feel something primal awaken in me—a fear of sorts. I suppress the feeling, focusing instead on the lush decorations. Based on Jeanine’s memories—she was part of the crew who built this place—I knew the hall would be amazing. However, now that I see it with my own eyes, the frescos, the statues, and the intricate glass mosaics are beyond breathtaking.

Eventually, I can’t squeeze through the crowd any farther. It’s simply too dense. I’m about forty feet away from the stage, and I have to settle for that.

I gawk at my surroundings for a few moments; then the people behind me push me against the Forebears in front of me. The hall is really filling up, with the last people arriving through multiple doors and open windows. Some are even flying down through an opening in the ceiling.

There are too many people to count, but if I had to estimate, I’d say there are a few thousand Forebears here—more than I would’ve expected. I’m about to comment on it to Phoe when I access Jeanine’s memories and learn that not all Forebears originated as Oasis Council members.

“Haven would be a tiny community if that were so,” Phoe says.

She’s right. In Jeanine’s memories, I learn that originally, Haven was seeded by nearly everyone who went on the “great journey into space”—Jeanine’s term. I try to recall more about that time period, but I can’t.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” Phoe thinks. “Jeanine has a gap in her memories. More interesting still is the fact that she was aware of that gap. She thought of it as something she needed to forget and never worried about it.”

I access the memories to verify Phoe’s words. Indeed, Jeanine felt that the gap was part of some larger plan for the greater good.

“I’m certainly curious,” Phoe says in my mind. “Something must’ve happened in Haven a long time ago—something that got covered up by Haven’s version of Forgetting. Since I can’t undo this Forgetting without more resources, let’s hope the Circle members know what that gap is about. They are, after all, comprised in part from former Keepers of Information—people who didn’t partake in Forgettings in Oasis.”

I don’t respond because my attention is stolen by the crowd’s staring at something in the front of the room. When I peer over the heads of those in front of me, I see that they’re looking at a contraption Jeanine fondly called “the magic mirror.”

The nickname suits the object on the wall, because it
is
a mirror, and it’s showing a video stream, similar to the Screens back in Oasis.

My mouth opens as Jeanine’s memories add context to the beautiful images on the screen. These are the highlights of the biggest accomplishments in art, sculpture, architecture, music, and many other pursuits that Haven citizens care about. The images and sounds are beyond sublime. I’m so entranced by the mirror I don’t even notice how the man and his Guardian entourage make it onto the stage.

Once I notice them, I scrutinize the group, especially the person who’s about to speak.

Jeanine knows his name: Benjamin. She’s heard him speak at these events before. He was already old back on Earth and joined Haven when the first wave of Forebears died. Jeanine and Benjamin had a common interest six hundred years ago. She wanted to master Xiangqi, also known as Chinese chess. Benjamin would play with her when he could get away from his Circle duties, which was rare.

Benjamin’s body is more luminescent than any I’ve seen so far, but his face is less perfect—almost weasel-like. His wings look abstract, as if they’re made of tangible smoke. He spreads his wings and raises his hands, palms up. Jeanine’s memory tells me that this is his signal for silence.

The crowd quiets down, and Benjamin says, “Citizens of Haven, I come to you with a heavy heart.”

The silence in the room thickens. Bad news is never delivered at these meetings.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll go ahead and say it plainly.” Benjamin clears his throat. “The ancient evil we left behind has reawakened. It has taken the lives of every citizen in Oasis. This is what remains.” With tears gleaming in his eyes, Benjamin gestures at the magic mirror and images of what’s left of Oasis appear.

The mirror shows thousands of bodies floating in the air, still without gravity. They’re now covered completely by frost. Even the red lights I remember are dimmed in this more recent image, as if even the alarms are dying.

My chest tightens as I relive the horrible hours before my biological death.

“I’m sorry, Theo, but you can’t fall apart,” Phoe says. “I think I have a plan of action. Look around you now. It’s very important.”

I do as she says.

The people around me are showing a full spectrum of emotions, ranging from shock to complete devastation. Some people are outraged, while others look fearful or mournful.

Benjamin recites the bullshit story similar to what Wayne told Brandon. He tells everyone how the Circle learned of a threat and how their valiant efforts to save Oasis failed, leading to the evil AI taking retribution.

Jeanine’s long nails are piercing my palms. I guess people who keep their nails long like this have to be careful when they clench their fists.

“I’m going to disguise your voice,” Phoe tells me. “As loudly as you can, I need you to say, ‘How could you let this happen?’”

“Okay,” I think back at Phoe. Then I scream loudly, “How could you let this happen?” My thunderous voice reverberates through the hall with such bass that my insides vibrate.

I look around to see if anyone noticed me speaking. No one is looking at me, but my words had an effect. The crowd turns angrier, their voices growing louder with each second.

“Order,” Benjamin shouts. “Quiet down and listen to me!”

His response further aggravates the people around me. They’re becoming the type of mob I’ve read about in ancient media.

“We let the Circle have power, and you failed,” someone screams in a voice that sounds like a violin.

“Next, they’ll make us forget this,” someone else yelps in a harmonica imitation.

Benjamin’s face turns white despite its bright luminescent shimmer. The Guardians surrounding him keep their cool, but one of them whispers something in Benjamin’s ear and the others inch toward the crowd.

“What happens now?” someone else chimes in as a dozen other people scream questions at the same time.

People begin to move frantically. Some head toward the stage, while others yell louder and louder.

“Start flying,” Phoe urges when two of the Guardians lead Benjamin to the back of the stage.

I try to spread my wings, but it’s impossible with all these people churning like in a mosh pit.

“Quick, access Jeanine’s memories,” Phoe says. “She helped build this place, remember?”

As soon as she says it, I recall the decades it took to craft the frescos and the ceiling. More importantly, I remember the backstage area and how it leads to the southern spire.

That means I know where Benjamin is heading, but if I don’t fly now, I won’t reach him in time.

What I do next is the most unladylike behavior Jeanine has ever displayed. I dig my nails into the shoulders of a shorter woman and a portly man and haul myself off the ground. Grabbing the head of the guy in front of them, I climb atop people’s heads and shoulders. Without giving them a chance to register the indignity, I spread my wings and fly for the nearest window—which happens to be a decorative one with colored glass.

I crash through it, ignoring the pain from the glass shards cutting me.

“You need to be more careful,” Phoe warns me. “I can’t speed up your healing right now.”

I grunt an acknowledgment—only my grunt comes out sounding melodious because of Jeanine’s vocal cords.

My owl wings beat faster than any bird could manage. Up and up I go, spinning in the air as I torpedo toward the southernmost spire while chanting in my mind:
Please be there, please be there
.

Behind me, people from the crowd start flying out of the hall as well, but I ignore them.

With a sharp slowdown that makes wind tug painfully at my feathers, I land on a terrace that surrounds the spire’s exit.

Before I can calm my frantic breathing, Benjamin steps onto the terrace.

I stare at him, and he looks back at me in surprise.

Afraid to spook him and working on pure instinct, I bow in that special way Haven protocol requires when standing before a member of the Circle. As I do that, I memorize the directions Phoe is barking in my mind. Then, like a robot, I begin to execute Phoe’s instructions.

“Hello, Benjamin,” I say. “Sorry to corner you like this, but have you heard from Brandon?”

Benjamin shakes his head. He looks a modicum more relaxed now that he has a reason for my presence.

Capitalizing on that, I move closer to him, speaking casually. “He hasn’t reported back—”

Without breaking eye contact, I gesture for my iron fan.

As soon as I feel the weight of the weapon in my hand, I swing my arm in an arc, unfolding the fan.

The blades of the fan slice through Benjamin’s throat with the ferocity of a starving shark.

He tries to scream, but that only causes blood to ooze violently from his multiple throat wounds.

I watch, hardly breathing, as the Circle member stumbles and disintegrates in a poof of Limbofication.

With Benjamin no longer blocking his line of sight, one of the two Guardians who led him here looks right at me. When he sees the weapon in my hand, his jaw tightens and a trident appears in his hands. In a blur of white knuckles and gleaming metal, he brings it down in the direction of my thigh. Jeanine’s muscle memory—specifically, her dancing experience—comes in handy. I move my leg away faster than I would’ve believed possible.

Despite the speed of my reflexes, one of the spikes of the trident punctures my foot.

Before the pain can reach my brain, I throw the fan.

I’m either lucky or reaping more benefits of Jeanine’s muscle memory, because the blades lodge into my attacker’s torso. He grunts and joins Benjamin in Limbo.

My elation is brief, as the second Guardian steps out onto the terrace, his eyes meeting mine. Judging by the barely contained fury on his face, he witnessed me Limbofying his friend and Benjamin.

The shockwave of pain hits me now, bringing with it a swell of nausea and dizziness.

I’m in no condition to fight.

“Right. And going by everyone’s memory, this is Samuel. He is much too good with daggers for you to stand a chance,” Phoe informs me urgently. “You need to escape.”

I blink, trying to clear the haze of agony from my brain. Samuel’s already holding a couple of daggers in each hand.

Pressing my back against the railing, I do something I never thought I could do without Phoe controlling my body.