Planet Urth (Book 1)

by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci

Chapter 12

  I open my eyes to see sunlight sifting through tiny crevices around the boulder. The sight, along with the silence it brings with it, is welcome. I blink several times. My eyes are puffy and bleary from crying and spending much of the night awake. June is slumped across me with her head on my lap and my legs are numb. I napped lightly while sitting exactly where I am while Lurkers scratched and snarled just outside our cave.

  I give June a gentle shake. I need her to wake. We have a long trip ahead of us. We will both be exhausted, I am sure, but we have to go. We have to convince Will and his parents that they are in danger.

  “June,” I whisper and jiggle her shoulders. “June,” I try a little louder.

  She wakes with a start and her head rockets up. “They’ve pushed in the boulder!” she gasps. Her eyes are darting from one side to the next.

  “No, no, June,” I say and rub her back. “We are okay. It is morning. They are gone,” I try to calm her. “The Lurkers are gone for now.”

  “Oh gosh,” she breathes, still rattled. “We made it through the night?” she asks more than says. “Yes, we did,” I tell her. “And now we will take our trip.”

  A slow smile spreads across her face.

  “But before we go anywhere, we need to wash and eat.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Especially since some of us need to wash more than others,” she says and crinkles her nose at me.

  A hysterical chuckle surges and brims unexpectedly. My nerves are frayed and it takes effort to subdue it.

  “Who? Me?” I ask with pretend confusion.

  June nods and twists her mouth to one side to suppress a giggle. She seems to be afflicted with the same panic-induced humor as me.

  “Are you saying I don’t look my best?” I tease.

  A giggle slips from June’s lips. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Then she doubles over laughing.

  “Hey!” I say with exaggerated offense. “How rude!”

  “I’m doing you a favor,” June says between chuckles. “You can’t let that family by the lake see you looking like that.” She points at my dirty clothes and matted hair.

  “What do you mean? I look fabulous,” I say in a silly voice.

  June snorts then her laughter starts anew. “I-I don’t know, Avery,” she says between pants. “Would Will, like the way you look right now?”

  I do not respond. The mere mention of Will makes my stomach feel filled with insects, all beating their wings at once.

  June does not notice that I have gone quiet. She keeps teasing me. “In fact, if he saw you now, he would probably run away,” she says and continues to laugh.

  I take her words lightly. She is right, after all. I would probably run from me if I were to see myself as I look now.

  “All right, wise guy,” I shake my head. “That’s enough. I get it. I’m gross. Now let’s go to the river and get clean already.”

  I stand sluggishly. Movement causes pain in varying degrees of severity to explode throughout my body. I groan involuntarily. The surge of twinges is overwhelming.

  June’s smile dissolves. “Avery, let me help you.” She springs to her feet, cups my elbow with one hand, and pulls me up with the other.

  “Thanks,” I say as I straighten my posture. “I’m okay.”

  I hobble to the logs and begin dragging them away. Though I know Lurkers sleep during the day, a part of me fears we will move the boulder and come face to face with the wide-mouthed muzzle of one of them. I try to force the worry to the back of my brain. We need to wash, eat, and leave as soon as possible. I do not want a repeat of last night. I expect that they will be at our cave again tonight, but I do not want to lay eyes on a Lurker ever again as long as I live. I shudder just thinking about their vicious faces.

  June rushes to my side to help. We clear the logs then roll the boulder to the side. I peek out of the cave before taking a tentative step forward. My eyes sweep the surrounding area. I do not see any Lurkers, but I smell them. The acrid stench of their urine fills the air and replaces the mossy, piney scent that normally greets me when I leave my home. The Lurkers have ruined it. They have marked the territory. I fear the act guarantees their return.

  June pinches her nose. “Ugh! It stinks out here. What is that smell?”

  “Pee. The Lurkers have peed all around the cave. They’ve marked where we are so they can track the scent.”

  “And come back,” June says somberly.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I think they will be back.”

  June’s eyes shine with unshed tears. I feel like crying as well, but I do not dare. I do not want my eyes to swell more than they already have. I blink back the moisture feverishly.

  “Come on,” I grip her hand. “Let’s go get ourselves clean. I don’t want to send the whole family scattering,” I say, trying to remind her of her joke earlier.

  She smiles feebly and nudges my arm with her shoulder.

  We make our way to the river. The cool water feels good against most of my cuts and bruises. I begin removing the bandages from my arm. As I peel away the gauze pad, I see how raw and angry looking the tender flesh is where the skin tore from it when I pulled my arm free from the web. I splash water on it and wince as soon as droplets touch the wound. But I must clean it as best I can despite the agony it causes me. I do not know what poison the spidery beast had running through its veins. I was forced to spend the night with its vile fluid seeping into my pores. I do not want it on me a moment longer. I scrub my skin, all but the wound, with spongy moss until it is a rosy pink. I scrub my scalp with my fingertips, then comb my fingers through the knots.

  When I feel sufficiently purged of the web ordeal from the day before, I dress and make my way back to the cave. June follows and is carrying an aloe leaf. Before we eat, she cracks opens the fleshy gray-green leaf, careful to avoid its serrated edges and small white teeth. She holds the opened side over my wound and allows its clear contents to trickle over the inflamed skin, then wraps it in a loose dressing.

  “What about the ointment?” I ask her. “Shouldn’t we use it?”

  “No. That is for cuts more serious than this,” she says and points to my forearm. “Remember, Dad said the stuff in the tube is rare.”

  I nod. “Yes, that’s right. You’re right.”

  I am so proud of how calm and mature June has behaved. For the second time, she has bandaged my arm and not recoiled from it. I realize that perhaps I have underestimated her for too long. She is handling the discovery of Urthmen not far from us in the forest, and the Lurkers marking our cave with their urine for an all but guaranteed return with more composure than I ever thought she possessed.

  “I’ll get us the leftover boart meat while you check on the rest of your cuts and scrapes,” she says with a tight smile, then turns and sets about unrolling the strip of leather the cooked meat is packed in.

  The meat is two days old, but June trimmed the thick chunks to thin slices and hung them on a tree branch. When they’d turned dark and wrinkly, she placed them in the leather. My dad once told us about preserving meat this way, but we never tried. The idea of leaving meat overnight seemed too dangerous. That danger seems trivial now in light of all we’ve been through.

  Still, I hope we do not get sick from the dried boart meat as I inspect the gashes and bruises that litter my skin. There are too many to count and range in color from purplish-red to bluish-black. Now that I am clean, their colors are pronounced against my pale skin. I find myself hoping that Will is not revolted by my battered appearance. It should not matter, I know. I am not going to the lake to be on display. I am going to make a final attempt to urge his family to leave, to join us. But a part of me that I do not quite understand can’t resist hoping he is not disgusted by me.

  After a deep breath, I forego braiding my curly blonde hair that falls to the middle o
f my back as I usually do. I allow it to cascade over my shoulders in hopes it will hide some of the more obvious welts on my upper body. I turn toward June. She has set out two crinkly, unappealing-looking strips of dried meat ready for me to eat.

  “Wow, Avery. I forgot how pretty you look with your hair down,” June says.

  My cheeks warm. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m sure I will braid it once the sun is high, but figured I’d take your advice and try to hide some of my ugly bruises.”

  June’s chest puffs out a bit. She smiles wisely. “Good. I’m glad,” she says, and hands me my breakfast. “Now let’s eat and get over there.”

  The excitement in her voice is obvious. I can understand why. I am feeling as if countless bubbles are bursting inside me. It amazes me that the night we had has not dulled our ability to feel enthusiasm, to feel hopeful. But we do.

  We dress in clean clothes and leave.

  June is excited as we walk. Her excitement radiates from her brightly and rivals the sun’s sickly rays that barely dribble from behind a bank of tattered gray clouds. She has a bounce to her step. She does not seem to want to stop chatting either. She has so many questions about the family, questions I do not have answers to. I find it hard to concentrate and am only partially listening. My focus is elsewhere, preoccupied with every branch that shifts or leaf that rustles. I search the woods for Urthmen, for boarts, and for webs made by giant spidery monsters. My hand does not leave my spear at my back. Anything could be stalking us. I am nervous, jumping at every snap or crackle of wood. June seems unbothered by my edginess. She is likely oblivious of it. She tells me what she will say when she meets Kate, Asher, Oliver, Riley, and Will.

  At mention of Will’s name, my ears prickle and I tune in. But she only brings him up in passing. My focus returns to the surrounding forest. The trees and bushes are bustling, teeming with critters I never bothered to notice. Sounds of life abound. They could easily dampen the sound of footsteps and I find myself feeling more vulnerable than usual. Perhaps it is because June is with me, or perhaps it is because I know that these woods are overrun by Lurkers when the sun goes down. Maybe the presence of Urthmen has destroyed any semblance of relaxed awareness I hunted and hiked with, or maybe it is the fact that there are monsters like the eight-legged creature I was almost eaten by roaming about that I have yet to see. Maybe it is all of the above, conspiring together. Regardless, I am more anxious than normal. I do not feel the least bit safe. And now June is with me, the person I worry about most.

  Time passes quickly and we reach the stubby plant I have come to know and kind of like on the outskirts of the lake. I crouch behind it and invite June to do the same.

  “Oh, Avery, I’m so nervous,” June says as she squeezes her hands together.

  Her words echo my exact sentiments. Ordinarily I would not say as much, but things are different now. I do not hold back.

  “Me too,” I say. “Every time I have come here, I feel like I am going to puke. I get so jittery,” I admit.

  “Really?” June looks at me incredulously. “I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, I suppose,” I tell her and feel a pang of regret. “I kept it all to myself for so long.”

  I lower my eyes to the ground. June reaches out and takes my hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she says.

  “I know,” I answer and wonder when exactly it was that she transformed and became this grown-up.

  She lets go of my hand and her eyes lock on the lake. I hear a high-pitched voice, the voice of a young child, then see Riley trot out of the cave.

  “Get ready, June. You’re about to see humans for the first time, other than me and Dad, of course. Well, at least the only people you remember seeing,” I qualify my statement quickly. “Take a look,” I say and stand up.

  June stands beside me. Her gaze travels down the gentle slope of the hill we stand on. The broadest smile I have ever seen her wear stretches across her face when she sees Riley, followed by Oliver and Kate, make her way to the lake. Riley dips her toe in the water, and Oliver comes up behind her. He shoves her playfully and her entire leg is submerged. She squeals and a sound catches in June’s throat.

  I stop watching June from the corner of my eye and face her. And what I see makes my breathing hitch.

  June’s eyes are moist. But for once, she is not upset. Her eyes are glazed with tears of joy. They overflow her lower lashes and trickle down her cheeks, glistening like morning dew on the petal of a flower. I hear Will’s voice, but I cannot take my eyes off June. She looks so content. I have never seen her look as she does now. I wish she could feel this way always. I wish I could freeze this moment in time. Seeing my sister, the only person I love on this planet, experience, pure unadulterated joy, is a gift I will not soon forget.

  I continue to watch June, and then suddenly her smile disappears. Her eyes widen and a mask of terror replaces her blissful features. My head immediately spins toward the family, toward what she is seeing. And when I do, my heart stops beating.

  I see more than a dozen Urthmen clutching their clubs. Their thin lips are pulled back over their pointed teeth as they streak with impossible speed toward Will and his family.

  “No!” I scream. My voice rips through the forest. “They’re here! Will look out! They’re here!”

  Will looks up. He is watching me and I am pointing to the approaching Urthmen weaving through the trees that border the lake.

  Will and the others look up, but by the time they see what I see it is too late. Will starts shouting words I cannot hear over the pounding of my pulse in my head. Asher turns to grab a spear and a nearby rock, and Kate unsheathes a blade from her thigh.

  “Oh no, oh no,” June is repeating beside me.

  I grip her shoulder. “June!” Her eyes are unfocused. I worry she is in shock. I shake her. “June! Please! Get under that bush and hide. Do not come out until I come to get you. Do you understand me? They haven’t seen you. You need to hide while I go help Will and his family.” My words come out quickly, quicker than I can think.

  “No, Avery,” June finally says. “No. Don’t leave me. Please, you said you wouldn’t leave me again.”

  She is right, but I have to help. I cannot sit by while another family is slaughtered.

  “I have to go,” is all I have time to say.

  Understanding flickers in June’s terrified eyes, and I hope I never have to see the look of defeat, the brokenness in her gaze, ever again.

  June scurries beneath the lowest branches of the bristly bush and tucks her limbs within it until she is no longer visible. I race toward the lake.

  As I rush, all sense of time and space leaves me. My legs feel disconnected from the rest of me and the sounds of the forest fall silent. I only hear the rush of my blood behind by ears and feel the weight of my weapons on my body.

  Ahead I see Will hefting a large rock. He is at the perimeter of the lake, where the Urthmen are pouring through, and catches one midstride. He smashes the rock against the Urthman’s misshaped head and sends the unsuspecting attacker reeling backward with his face split open. Will does not waste time. As soon as the Urthman falls to the ground, he finishes him off with the stone. He then grabs the Urthman’s club and turns to face the two more that are upon him.

  My attention is pulled from Will to the smaller children. Three Urthmen are descending on them. I need to get to them. I need to help. Oliver is only a few years older than June, yet he is attempting to defend his sister, Riley. He is armed with only a stick that he just picked up. It is not sufficient to protect himself with, much less his sister.

  I am less than fifty strides away but realize I will never make it in time to help. Oliver will be pummeled to death, as will Riley. I make a split-second decision and draw my sp
ear. I launch it midstride and watch without slowing as it pierces the air with a soft whistle just before it plunges in the center of the Urthman closest to Oliver.

  The Urthman’s head whips in my direction, and for a moment, he is stunned silent. He sees the lance sticking out of him and wails in agony. He drops to the ground just as I reach Riley and Oliver.

  I pull my sword from my scabbard and clutch it with two hands. When the next Urthman advances, I cleave the air. The metal meets flesh, my strike landing at his neck. I follow through with the swing, bringing my blade down until it does not move any longer. I pull it free with a grunt. The Urthman is opened from his collarbone to his navel. But I do not stop to watch him die. Two more are coming at me.

  “Run!” I shout to Riley and Oliver, but they do not budge. They are frozen in place. I have no choice but to shield them with my body. I will not let them die.

  The pair of Urthmen rushing me swipes their clubs at me. I dodge both blows with dexterity I never knew I had, especially since my entire body trembles so hard it is a wonder I am even able to stand. But I not only stand, I fight. I feel as if the Urthmen are moving at a slower speed than I am, that I can see their actions with razor-sharp clarity and anticipate what they will do next as plainly as if they were my own thoughts.

  When the Urthman closest hefts his club overhead to skull me, I drive my sword through his throat then yank it free and turn on the other alongside him. His arms are at one side and his torso is twisted. His midsection is unprotected, and is now my target. With a cry that comes from somewhere deep inside my core, I grit my teeth and ram my sword straight through his gut, then wrench it free. The Urthman calls out words I have rarely heard; words my dad called swear words. He then drops his club and clutches his stomach. As he falls to his knees, I bring my blade up and slash his throat.

  My movements, though brutal, are necessary. I do not regret them any more than I regret breathing or eating. They are fluid and natural. They are what I have trained for my whole life. But despite my training, I realize that the ease with which I can kill and the swiftness of my reflexes are special skills. I understand why my father had always been so shocked by my abilities, why he praised what he called my ‘gift.’ I always thought he was just complimenting me to get me to train harder. I know now that he was simply sharing his thoughts about what he saw. Fighting is instinctive to me. It feels as if it is what I was born to do, that ridding the world of the hideous Urthmen is my purpose.

  A flurry of movement in my periphery jerks my attention from the Urthmen I have killed to Will. He is battling two that stormed him. I contemplate helping him, but I am intercepted by my own set of Urthmen. They both attack simultaneously. I sidestep the first club but can’t avoid the second. A club catches me squarely in the arm. I cry out and evade a swipe intended for my head. I twist and cut through air and slice open the arm of the Urthman that hit me then immediately sink my sword into the other’s heart. But as I am retrieving my sword, a shadow crowds from behind. My short life flickers before my eyes in quick, disjointed flashes. And in a fraction of a second, I know I am about to meet my end, that it is too late for me to react. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the blow of a club to strike my head but snap them open when I hear a scream, the scream of a young boy. I spin and instead of having my skull cracked open, I see a spear tip protruding from the Urthman’s chest, my spear tip.

  The Urthman falls, revealing Oliver standing there. He is shaking and his breathing is short and shallow. He pulled my spear from the Urthman I killed, the one that was about to butcher him and Riley, and used it to save my life.

  “Thanks,” I say to Oliver. His eyes are wide and his mouth is partially agape as he looks over my shoulder.

  I turn and see that Will has taken down one of the Urthmen he was fighting and struggles with the other on the ground. My eyes travel and zeroes in on what has caused Oliver’s look of horror.

  “No!” I scream. Kate is on the ground, and an Urthman swings his club overhead. He drops it against her head, pounding her skull again and again. “No! Kate!” I hear myself screaming, but my voice sounds as if it is echoing from the end of a long tunnel.

  Oliver is crying and mumbling words that, while not entirely intelligible, are familiar. I am sure I have muttered them before because I have lived through what Oliver has just witnessed. I want to hug him, but there isn’t time. Asher has just killed one, but two more Urthmen are just about on him. I take off at a sprint to help.

  “Hey! Over here!” I shout to distract at least one of the Urthmen, but they do not look up at me. Their gazes are fixed on Asher. One wields the knife Kate used earlier in addition to his club while the other circles around, behind Asher. I just about reach them when the Urthmen strike instantaneously. One grabs Asher from behind while the other drives the dagger into the center of his chest. Asher falls to his knees, an expanding circle of garnet staining his shirt.

  “No!” Will screams. His voice tears through my veins and echoes through my soul. He attacks the Urthman he was fighting against with reckless ferocity, ignoring the possibility of being hit himself, and boldly steps forward, swinging the club ceaselessly. The club smashes the Urthman over and over until he collapses to the ground in a pulpy heap. Will does not stop though. He charges toward the two that just killed his parents. I meet him there and fight beside him to avenge his parents’ deaths inasmuch as any death can truly be avenged.

  Will’s eyes are wild and his pulse darts at the base of his throat. I feel his fury. I feel his anger and sorrow, the anguish coursing through his body like lifeblood. I remember it. I know it well. It is a dark and ever-present companion of mine. I let it fuel me and drive my sword as I carve the air horizontally and behead the putrid Urthman nearest. Will waves the club expertly and bashes one of the last two remaining until he is reduced to a bundle of unrecognizable features. But while Will vents some of his overwhelming suffering on the fallen Urthmen, another reaches him before I do and hits him in the back. Will tumbles forward, but before the Urthman who raided him from behind can strike again, I drive my blade through him. The Urthman falls to the ground. I have killed the last of them that stormed the family at the lake, but I do not feel satisfaction of any kind that they are all dead. Will parents were lost. There is nothing to celebrate.

  Will staggers to his parents’ bodies and drops to his knees. For the first time in many years, I hear another human being’s heart cry out. Through sobs, Will says over and over, “Mom, Dad, no, please no.”

  My breathing snags several times before I begin to cry too. I know I do not have the right to cry, but I am powerless to stop the tears from falling.

  Riley and Oliver join Will. Their small bodies shudder as they weep. No one should have to see what they just saw. No one should have to live through what they just lived through. Through my tears, I silently vow that if I ever find another family, I will do anything and everything in my power to preserve it. The core of humanity is family. Whether they are people we are born to or people we embrace along the way, family is the crux of human life. And I will defend it with every last drop of blood that pumps through my body.

  Armed with my newfound resolve, I turn and allow Will, Oliver, and Riley time to grieve. I set about checking each fallen Urthman for any signs of life. I plunge my sword in all of them for good measure. I will not take any chances.

  When I have completed my task, I call to June.

  But June does not reply.

  “June,” I try again a bit louder.

  But still, she does not reply. I do not hear her shuffle or see the woods stir. I do not hear a sound, apart from the soft whimpers coming from Will and his surviving family.

  Panic sets in.

  I race toward the bush June was stashed beneath, and when I get there, my insides crystallize.

  An Urthman has a handful of June’s hair, and he
’s pressing the tip of my spear just below her ear at her throat. Will runs up beside me.

  “Drop your weapons, or I will kill her,” the Urthman orders.

  “Please,” I begin to beg. “She’s just a child.”

  “I said drop your weapons, humans!” the Urthman shouts.

  There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he will kill her regardless of whether I drop my weapon or not. He will kill us all if given the chance. June will die no matter what. I must do something. I will not let the Urthman kill her.

  My mind scrambles for a plan.

  I look off to the right of the Urthman, just past him. “What are you waiting for?” I say to no one. “Kill him! Cut his head off!”

  The Urthman turns around to look behind him, and when he does, I only have seconds to act. I pull my dagger from its sheath and hurl it at him. It tumbles through the air end over end, and when he turns back to look at me, the blade lodges into his eye. He releases June and my spear and drops to his knees, shrieking.

  June dives into my arms. I hug her tightly and mumble, “Urthmen are as stupid as Dad said they were.”

  But June is uninterested in anything I have to say. Who can blame her? Will finishes off the Urthman and hands me my dagger just before his brother and sister rush to him. They huddle and cry. June is crying and silent tears stream down my cheeks as well.

  All of us have seen too much violence, too much death and destruction. We have been left to fend for ourselves and survive against impossible odds. But as I look around at our blended group, I feel an odd glimmer of hope spark inside of me. I don’t know when or how, but I believe for the first time in my life that we will someday overcome the carnage and cruelty we were born into.