by Moira Young
We cain’t, says Ike.
I look at Jack. At Ike. They’re starin at each other, their faces grim.
What is this? I says. We gotta cross before dark, we cain’t camp on the lakebed … I ain’t likin the sound of this.
That makes two of us, says Ash.
Try three, says Epona.
I cross my arms over my chest. Fergawdsake, jest tell us, I says. Why is it we gotta cross before dark?
Ike spreads his hands. Tell ’em, Jack, he says.
Jack curses unner his breath. Looks at the ground fer a moment. Then he reaches fer the edges of his shirt an pulls it off over his head.
Emmi gasps. Beside me, I hear Ash’s breath hiss in. I already seen ’em, back at Hopetown, but my stummick still clenches.
Three long pink claw marks that slash across his body from his right shoulder to his left hip. Jack stands there fer a moment. Then he turns so we can see his back. A smaller set of claw scars slash across his right shoulder-blade.
He turns around again an puts on his shirt.
Does that answer yer question? he says.
What did that to yer back? Emmi whispers.
It was dark, says Jack. I didn’t git a good look.
They call ’em hellwurms, says Ike.
Wurms with claws, says Epona. An big wurms by the look of it. I ain’t heard of nuthin like that before.
An you ain’t seen nuthin like ’em neether, says Ike.
What are they? says Ash.
Story goes that a long time ago, back in Wrecker times, they put some kinda poison into the lake, says Ike. It killed off everythin. Essept the wurms. They grew.
You said they, says Epona. That means there’s more’n one. How many more?
A lot more, says Jack.
This jest gits better an better, I says.
There’s silence. Then, That settles it, I says. I’m goin on alone.
Well, everybody starts talkin all at once, even Tommo, one over top of th’other, gittin louder an louder till at last I put my hands over my ears an yell, Shut up, will you! Jest … shut up!
They do. They all look at me.
He’s my brother, I says. An I ain’t lettin none of you come with me if that’s—I point at Jack—what we gotta deal with before we even git to Freedom Fields. Now, I cain’t afford to go back down the hill an wait to try agin tomorrow. We’re nearly at midsummer. If I start right away, I might reach th’other side of the lake before dark.
She travels fastest who travels alone, says Ike, is that it?
That’s it all right, I says. Okay, Emmi, you—Emmi, what the hell’re you doin down there?
While we bin talkin, Emmi’s bin scrabblin around on the ground. Now she stands up an holds out her hands. She’s got a pile of white pebbles in one an a pile of black pebbles in th’other.
White means we go with you, she says. Black means we don’t. Whatever we git the most of, that’s what we do.
I ain’t got time fer this, Emmi, I says, I’m—
Shut up, Saba, she says.
An I’m so astonished that I do.
She sets the pebbles in two piles on the ground. She leaves a space in between.
Everybody gits one vote, she says. You choose yer pebble an then you put it in the middle. When we’re all done, I’ll count ’em up. Now, turn around so’s you cain’t watch what the other person’s doin.
Nobody moves. We all jest stand there, starin at her.
I said, turn around! she says. Tommo, you go first.
The rest of us turn our backs. Ike’s next to me. I see it runs in the family, he mutters.
Emmi directs the whole thing. I’m th’only one left.
What about me? I says.
You don’t git a turn, she says. Okay, turn around.
In the middle there’s six white pebbles. Not one black one.
I crouch down. Pick up the pebbles an hold ’em in my hand. They feel solid, warm. I look up into their faces one by one. An it’s like I’m lookin at ’em fer the first time. Jack, Ike, Emmi, Epona, Ash an Tommo. Every one of ’em willin to walk with me across the lake. To go with me into the darkness an face what lives there.
My throat feels tight.
You don’t hafta do this, I says.
Epona shrugs. We’re yer friends, Saba, she says. We wanna help.
I wish you wouldn’t, I says.
Too bad, she says. We’re stickin with you.
If this gits any more heart-warmin, says Ash, I’m gonna start cryin. Now if we’re done here, I say we git movin.
Jack gits us to muffle the horses’ feet with cloth so’s the wurms don’t know we’re passin over the top of ’em. Then we move out onto the parched lakebed.
We go as quick as we can, but like Jack said, we gotta guide the horses safely past all the cracks an crevasses, big an small, that split the earth an slow us down. We don’t talk, try not to make no sound. But the horses sense somethin. They’re nervy. Soon they start to shy at their own shadows.
An we don’t make it. We don’t make it across the lake before dark. Even though it’s the season of long days, we’re only about halfways across when we start to lose the light.
Jack stops. Looks at the sky. He waits fer everybody to catch up. When the light goes, he says in a low voice, it’s gonna go fast. We gotta be ready well before then.
My stummick clenches. Ready fer what? I says.
Hellwurms sleep in the day, he says, deep inside the mountain. When night falls, they come up through the cracks in the lakebed. They’ll be lookin fer food. It could be we git lucky. If they already got full bellies from last night or even a couple of days ago, they might stay down there an sleep it off. But if we don’t git lucky—
—the minute it’s dark, says Ike, wurms is gonna crawl outta them cracks an cover this lakebed faster’n you could ever imagine.
You should of told us this before we started off, I says.
I was hopin I wouldn’t hafta, says Jack. But would it of made any difference? Anybody?
Everyone shakes their head.
Hell no, says Emmi.
We decide to let the horses go. We unwrap their feet an set ’em on their way across the lake. This way, there’s at least a chance they might make it safe to th’other side. Once the wurms come out, they won’t have no chance at all.
I lean aginst Hermes’ head. I stroke his soft nose.
Saba, says Jack. Time to let him go.
I look into his wise brown eyes one last time. Thank you, I whisper. Then I stand back. Go on, I says.
He trots a few paces away. He stops. He turns to look at me. I raise my hand in farewell. He tosses his head an whinnies. Then he heads off after th’others.
As I watch him go, I know I’m watchin my best chance of reachin Lugh by midsummer disappear. I wanna blame somebody fer the mess we’re in, but yellin at Jack or Ike or anybody else ain’t gonna change nuthin. We’re all in this together now.
I turn around.
So, Jack, I says, what’s the plan?
We work fast. We ain’t got much time before the dark comes.
My hands move, my feet move. I push down the fear that’s risin in me. There ain’t no room fer it, ain’t no time fer it. Jack’s in charge. He says to do somethin, we all do whatever it is right away. We don’t ask no questions, don’t ask him what his plan is. We’ll be findin out soon enough.
He gits us to gather as much wood as we can find. Branches, twigs an trunks of long dead trees blown here by the mountain winds. No matter how big or small, we find ’em an carry or drag ’em to Jack an Ike.
Then we bundle together all the small bits an tie ’em with nettlecord. We break up what bigger branches we can by hand an them that’s too big, Ike chops with his hatchet. Then we start to lay ’em out in a big circle.
Jack calls me over. Count how many arrows we got, would you? he says.
I empty my quiver. Lucky Maev sent me off with a full load. Then I go around an count what’s in Jack’s an Epona’
s an Ash’s quivers. Ike’s got a bolt shooter as well as a crossbow, but he’s only got a few bolts fer ammo so we’ll hold the shooter in reserve. Emmi an Tommo both got slingshots. I do a quick arrow count. Then I count agin to make sure.
Two hunnerd an eighty eight, I tell Jack.
He flashes me a tight grin. That’s better’n I thought, he says. Wrap the heads in bits of cloth, whatever you can find.
I reach fer the bottom of my shirt. It’s soaked through with sweat from the climb an the heat, but I should be able to rip a strip from it.
No, he says. Dry cloth. It’s gotta be dry. See how many bottles you can scare up. An ask Ike fer some of that pine sap vodka of his.
Now I know what his plan is.
Fire. We’re gonna fight ’em with fire.
The wood’s laid out how Jack wants it. It’s heaped in a big circle ready to be lit the moment he tells us to. We’ve left a good-sized open space in the middle. That’s where we’ll stand an fight. Inside our fortress of fire.
We’ve made torches with bundles of twigs tied to the ends of branches. Now, with one eye on the darkenin sky, we’re all workin fast to tie cloth strips around the arrowheads. We’ve torn up bits of our bedrolls, even our shirts an tunics. Whatever we’ve got that’s dry.
Ike’s poured some of his precious vodka into bottles, two fer each of us. As soon as we git a pile of arrows done, Emmi an Tommo take ’em away an stick ’em, head down, into the bottles. Ready to be pulled out, lit an shot. We only manage to fit a handful of arrows in each bottle, so once the action gits goin, it’ll be their job to keep ’em filled up. That an slingshot duty.
Ike’s workin next to me. You crossed the lake that night with Jack, I says. Where’s yer scars?
Jack took the hit instead of me, he says. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t of got between me an the wurm.
Well, you was movin so slow I had to do somethin, says Jack.
You was away, says Ike. You was clear. You should of left me to fend fer myself, not turned back an nearly got yerself killed.
I’m still here, ain’t I? he says. He goes over to help Tommo an Emmi.
Damn wurm nearly killed him, says Ike.
Jack’s … different from what I thought when I first met him, says Epona.
Yeah, says Ike. There’s more to Jack than meets the eye.
Jack hands his last bundle of arrows to Tommo an slaps him on the back.
That’s it, he says. We’re ready.
There’s a hot clench of fear, deep in my belly. I know it well. I used to git it all the time, jest before I went into the Cage. An I know how to use it. A slow smile spreads over my face. I look around at everybody.
I dunno about you, I says, but I’m feelin lucky tonight.
We wait.
We sit on the ground, spaced out evenly jest inside our circle of wood. We face across the lake. I got Jack on one side of me an Epona on th’other. Ike an Ash cover the rest of the circle. Emmi an Tommo crouch in the center next to the piles of stones they collected fer their slingshots. I clutch my flint in my hand, ready to set my section alight.
The night starts to drift in. The crimson fingers of the dyin sun bleed into dark gray. The first stars blink down at us. Not long to wait now.
If I ask you somethin, says Jack, will you tell me the truth?
Maybe, I says. Depends.
What made you come after me? he says. Back at Hopetown, I mean. How’d you know where to find me?
I’m about to give some kinda smart answer, somethin that’ll keep him at a distance, like always. But I don’t. The heartstone’s burnin aginst my skin. An I’m feelin brave. Reckless.
I had a dream, I says. The night before the fire.
You dreamed where to find me?
We talk in low voices, so th’others cain’t hear us.
In my dream, I was in the dark, I says. I couldn’t see, couldn’t hardly breathe. There was smoke an fire an the heat was somethin fierce. An I was searchin fer somebody. I didn’t know who, I jest … knew I had to find him. But I couldn’t an it was … awful. Frightenin. Then I … woke up.
You was … lookin fer me? says Jack.
I think so, I says. Yeah.
But you did find me, says Jack. You found me even though I was locked inside the Cooler. How?
I move over, kneel next to him. Feel this, I says. I take Jack’s hand an bring it to the heartstone around my neck.
It’s hot agin, he says.
I take a deep breath. It’s a heartstone, I says. It only gits warm when I’m near you. The closer we are to each other, the hotter it gits. That’s how I knew where to find you.
He don’t say nuthin. It’s the first time I ever seen Jack lost fer words. After a moment, he takes his hand away.
Must be kinda annoyin, he says.
I’m used to it by now, I says. Listen, Jack. I jest wanna say I—
Shh! He holds up his hand.
We wait. Listen.
Silence.
Silence.
Then. A faint rumble. Like thunder in the distance.
They’re awake, he whispers.
Light the fires! Jack says.
I scramble to my knees, hold my flint to the tinder at the base of the wood circle.
I strike my flint. A spark arcs onto the dry tinder. It catches an I blow on it gently till I git a flame goin. It licks quickly up the twigs an branches. I check over my shoulder. Everyone else is doin the same with their own section. In no time, we got a strong fire goin an we’re standin inside our fortress of flame.
We’re lucky with the night. The sky’s high an clear. The moon hangs low over the mountain tops an throws a wide silver path across the lakebed. We got a clear view in all directions.
I hold my bow in my hand. Two bottles of vodka-soaked arrows stand by my feet. My knife’s in my boot sheath. I ain’t gonna think about havin to use it. It’s my last defense an usin it ’ud mean everythin else had failed.
I feel calm. Clear-headed. Even though my heart’s bangin aginst my ribs.
Emmi, I says, stay close to Tommo.
Okay, she says.
Silence. Silence. Silence. Essept fer the cracklin of the fire. I dart a look at Jack. His head’s lifted, like a wolfdog onto a scent.
Then a creakin noise. A slow, painful groan. The kinda noise a old rusted shut door makes when it’s forced open. But it ain’t a door. It’s the ground.
From somewhere deep below us, from somewhere down down down in the dark heart of th’earth, the lakebed’s ancient body is slowly bein forced open.
The hellwurms is awake. An they’re comin up to feed.
The ground starts to tremble. It starts to shake. Then it shifts unner our feet. I stagger. Epona grabs my arm, stops me fallin over.
Holy crap in a cup, says Ash, her eyes wide.
Everybody git down! yells Jack.
Me an Epona throw ourselves to the ground. Throw our arms around our heads.
The earth groans, deep in its belly, as it’s forced open. Over an over an over it moans its pain. Groanin an shriekin an shakin unner us, around us, it gits louder an louder. Till it takes me over, floodin my body, my breath, my brain till I think I’ll go mad.
Then it stops.
Silence.
Slowly, we all git to our feet. My fingers is clenched tight around my bow. I look over at Emmi. She’s clutchin Tommo’s hand, her face white in the moonlight.
Then, over the crackle of the fire, another sound.
A rustle. The click of claws on dry earth. Somethin’s movin.
It stops. Hisses.
It can smell us, Ike says in a low hoarse voice.
A high pitched shriek rips the night open.
My heart leaps to my throat. My bowels clench.
It’s callin th’others, Jack says. Git ready! An remember what I told you.
Aim fer the eyeholes. An don’t let ’em git close enough to use their claws.
Claws. No eyes, jest dents in the skin where they used
to have eyes a long time ago. No point in havin eyes, Jack says, livin unnerground like they do, so they hunt by smell. They sniff out their prey.
Their prey. Us.
Then, not more’n thirty foot away, straight in front of me an Epona, a crack appears in the ground. It splits open, starts to widen.
Here we go! Epona yells.
A claw appears.
The claw hooks itself onto the edge of the crack. It’s got three long scaly toes. Each toe ends in a hooked nail sharp enough to slash to the bone with one swipe. Then another claw hooks itself beside the first.
Don’t be shy, I says. Show me yer face, you scaly-toe sonofabitch.
An, almost like it heard me, a round head appears. Covered in scales an maggot-white with a dip in each side where the eyes oughta be. A long neck. The blunt head sways back an forth, the scales ripplin like tiny waves. It must be smellin us.
That’s right, I says. Over here. I’m real tasty.
I pull a arrow outta the vodka. Nock it to my bowstring. Dip the arrowhead into the fire at my feet. It flames up right away. I take aim.
The hellwurm slithers outta the crack. Gits up on its hind legs.
Uh … Jack, I says. You didn’t say they could walk.
Sorry, he says. I fergot that bit.
The wurm’s three times my height. Two long arms with claws, an claws on its feet too. A wide slash of a mouth with lots of sharp teeth, good fer tearin flesh. You can see right through its death white skin to its beatin heart an other innards. It gives off the most gawdawful stench. Like a three-day-old corpse in a small room on a humid day. I gag. So does Epona.
It throws its head back an shrieks.
I let fly with my arrow. Straight at the right eyehole. A hit. The wurm’s head bursts into flame. It screams an staggers backwards into the crack it jest come from.
Nice shot, says Epona.
But there’s more comin. From all around us. Hunnerds of ’em by the look of it. The lakebed’s alive with their scuttlin stinkin bodies.
We start pickin ’em off with our crossbows, as fast as we can. Epona an me, Jack an Ike an Ash. Emmi an Tommo fire away with their slingshots, dartin in between us to git a closer shot.
Hellfire, Jack, I says. You didn’t say there was this many.
