Flight by Lindsay Leggett Read Free Book Online Page A

widespread groan waved throughout the room as outlines were handed out, but I remained flabbergasted. Of course the Corp was right to eliminate a threat to our own race, right? I stuffed the outline in my bag, the questions racing through my mind. Questions I still have to this day. Does being a Hunter separate me from humanity? Am I a third-party in this society?
    Mr. Owen caught my eye briefly as he passed by, his friends joking around behind him. His gaze stripped me down to my core, like he knew every single thing about me: my wants, my secrets, my despair. I never saw him again.

    When I enter the apartment a loud buzzing pervades the air. I feel around in my coat until I find a tiny, vibrating cell phone. Just like the Corp to plant a tracker on me while I was unconscious. I flip the phone open and bring it to my ear.
    “Hello?” I say. I cradle the phone between my head and shoulder as I un-suit myself and kick my boots into the closet.
    “Good afternoon, Piper,” a voice sounds. I recognize the gravelly tone instantly.
    “Rupert,” I reply. I hear him exhale the thick smoke of his cigar, and it’s almost as if the pungent stink is permeating the phone and into my house.
    “It’s good to hear your voice again,” he says dryly. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, picturing him at his desk, cigar in hand, feet raised up as he leans back in his chair.
    “Well, I had a pretty good vacation,” I reply. He chuckles slightly.
    “Listen, Piper. You took off after David died without even telling anybody. Half of Central thought you were dead. I’m just glad to find you alive and well. Now, tell me about your current situation. How are they treating you?”
    “Fine. We’re debriefing tomorrow and running some VR modules. No weapons yet. Actually, I haven’t seen weapons on any of the other Hunters,” I muse. It’s one thing I miss about being a part of the team. My crossbow and daggers used to be like a second skin, sometimes my only companions.
    “Too sentimental. What have I always told you?”
    “ A weapon is only a piece of metal to a sentimental warrior ,” I repeat in monotone.
    “Good. At least you still remember something. Just try to relax, and call me immediately if you see something that looks suspicious,” he mutters, then hangs up the phone. That’s Rupert’s trademark, deciding when any conversation is over. He took over Elder Corp a few years before I started training heavily, leaving his older brother Raul to a comfortable retirement in the clean beaches of Southern France. He’s one of the only Elder Corp presidents who actually did some time in the field, making him a valuable boss and ally, and sometimes an infuriating slave driver. I click the phone shut and toss it back in my bag, unable to shake his last words from my mind. Suspicious . What exactly is going on around here?
    I let myself slide onto my couch, deciding that all of the big questions can wait until tomorrow, especially when I see a note taped onto the coffee table that reads Don’t forget about tonight. Dress cute—Shelley.

    The venue is at a bar called Trash . It’s a tiny hole in the wall, and one of my regular dives. I try on a few outfits in my room, even debating on raiding Shelley’s closet for something cute before I give up and slip into my favorite jeans, ripped and splattered with paint, and a simple t-shirt. At the last moment before I leave, I let my hair out and shake it so it drapes over my shoulders and dab on a bit of lip-gloss. I guess there’s no harm in trying.
    With the Holo-sky glowing the frail purple of twilight, the underground comes alive with bright lights from every shop and restaurant, and as I walk along the sidewalk every door I pass carries a different scent. The food might be genetically altered, but the smell and taste is almost—almost—real. I content myself with watching the people around me; the shopkeepers haggling to sell their wares, the younger kids traveling in groups,