Extinction: Planet Urth, #6

by Jennifer Martucci

  Earl has already spit the two rabbits and they roast over the open flames. I do not bother to ask whether the fire is a good idea. They clearly cook here regularly and have survived long enough to rescue me. Who am I to question their decision? I thought Urthmen were my friends and that I was living in peace with the species that sought to exterminate humans for centuries. There was never a peace. Only my three cities believed that lie.

  “You guys live here?” I ask, trying to fill the tense silence that stretches between us. As soon as the words fall from my lips, I regret them.

  Earl, who is still squatting by the fire, turns. The expression he wears is almost a scowl. His tone borders on confrontational. “Yeah, why?”

  I look away from him, my eyes skimming the shacks once again. The misshapen wooden doors are partial, barely covering half of the opening to each. One structure leans at such a steep angle it looks as though a faint breeze would topple it. If it were to encounter the fierce winds that lash the area when a storm comes, it would be swept away for sure.

  “I was just wondering,” I reply, grateful that I’m not standing in the light of day, for if I were, the blush on my cheeks would be evident.

  “You don't approve of our accommodations?” Earl asks with an edge to his voice. “Are they not luxurious enough for you?”

  Ignoring his attitude, I say pleasantly. “It’s fine. It’s far better than some of the places I’ve lived.”

  Earl nods. What I’ve said seems to have diffused the situation. Still, there’s an odd charge to the air. I can’t place exactly what it is, but an energy is fueling the atmospheres around us. One that feels...off. Uncomfortable. Perhaps they’re just hardened by life and not up for idle chat. Or maybe they’re not accustomed to outsiders at their shanty village. I hope I have not offended them by quite literally curling my nose at their homes. I owe them a debt. They saved my life. Offending them is not at all what I want to do. I hope to repay them by reaching my people in the other two human cities and protecting them against the Cadogan’s insurgency.

  “How did you know to come to Tyr?” I ask as I walk to the perimeter of the fire.

  “We heard the Urthmen over the radio saying that you were in Vox and thought you could use some help,” Ed replies. His words are affable enough but his tone possesses a quality of both bitterness and amusement.

  “Thank you,” I reply as my anxiety swells.

  None of the men comment further or attempt to engage in conversation. I sit, awkward and tense, until the rabbits are finished cooking. They’re released from the spit and torn apart by Earl. With filthy hands unbothered by the heat of the seared flesh, he clutches one by the neck and feet and buries his face in it, tearing skin and flesh with his teeth and making a snuffing sound like boarts make. All of the men eat the same way. Dirty skin and hands greasy and with pieces of meat hanging from their beards along with slobber, they are hard to look at. Between the sight of them and the smell of their camp, I feel like I'll be sick. The moment the rabbit is handed to me from Ed, he glares at me as if daring me to decline, I have no choice but to accept.

  Typically cooked rabbit is not greasy and is rather lean, the outer skin is slick. Likely saliva and teeth that haven’t been touched with any natural sponge or mint leaf to clean them are the culprits. The thought of both makes me gag. I turn my head to try to conceal it but I swear Ed sees me and smirks. In an act that is pure defiance, I bring my lips to the meat and rip a piece off with my teeth. My stomach roils as gooiness unrelated to the meat sticks to my chin, and strings between my lips and the flesh are formed by whatever coats it. I chew and swallow quickly, trying in vain not to think of what’s in my mouth. I quickly pass the meat back to Ed, who passes it to Tom. Tom makes a wet slopping sound as he eats then chews with his mouth open. Bits of rabbit tumble out as his lips smack together. But I’m the only one who appears bothered by it. I attempt to speak again, if for no other reason to hear something other than Tom’s lips smacking.

  “Can I ask you why you guys live out here instead of in one of our cities?” I ask the question that’s been on my mind since we arrived. I’m instantly sorry for asking when all three men turn, look at each other and then glare at me.

  Ed smiles. The expression is pure malice. He then says, “I guess it's good that we don't considering there aren’t any cities left.”

  Brow furrowing, confusion muddles my thoughts momentarily. “What? What’re you talking about?” I ask. “Kildare and Galway still stand and that's where we need to get to warn everyone there of what's coming.”

  Ed shakes his head. “Nope,” he says in that same flat tone he stated Mike’s death. “They’re gone.”

  “Gone?” I look at him incredulously. Surely he’s wrong. How could he possibly know? “That can’t be right. Where did you hear that?”

  Ed taps the radio clipped to the waistband of his dirty trousers. The same one he had on his bike before we arrived here. “Everyone you know is dead, Avery.” A smug thread of satisfaction winds around his tone like a serpent, venom dripping from his every word.

  Panic glazes my flesh like ice. My mind swirls dizzyingly. Is what he’s said true? Are all of the cities gone? Has everything human beings have achieved been for nothing? Has everything I’ve fought for been for nothing? And how did I not see this coming?

  Warmth bleeds from me, seeping from my flesh and carried away on the crisp breeze that stirs the treetops. Ripples of anxiety undulate through my body. John. William. Sully. June. They’re all I can think of.

  “Guess you weren’t that good of a leader,” Ed hisses.

  And in the moment that sentence leaves his lips, I realize that neither he nor the other men came to Tyr to save me. I glance at my sword resting beside me, inching my hand over toward the hilt. But as soon as my fingers wrap around it, Tom rips it from my grasp. In the space of a breath, he has the finely honed blade at my throat and Earl grabs me from behind. Ed smirks at me, leering and raking his eyes over my body. “We had dinner. Now it's time for a little entertainment.” He runs his tongue over his lips lasciviously.

  Earl leans forward and runs the length of his tongue from my chin to my temple.

  “I have something very entertaining in mind.” Ed’s tone is lustful and hate-filled.

  My heart rockets to my throat, lodging there and hammering wildly. “W-Why are you doing this?” My words are a hoarse plea as I struggle to free myself. My efforts are useless.

  “You really don't remember us do you?” Ed asks. His head tipped to one side and his eyes are narrowed to lethal slashes.

  “Not remembering us really hurts our feelings,” Tom leans close to my ear and says. His breath reaches out like fetid hands, curling their gnarled fingers into my nostrils and hooking them there to the point of repulsion.

  I recoil and turn away from him, my gaze landing on Ed. The firelight illuminates his face. I try to place who he is. Try to imagine him without his beard, scraggly hair and the inch-thick layer of crud on his skin. But all the flames do are deepen the hollows in his features, darkening the circles around his eyes and making him appear even more ghoulish if that’s possible. Then he turns his head sideways and I see his profile. My eyes dart to the others and their identities crystallize. I remember them. All of them. Flashes of the last time I saw them flicker in my mind’s eye. The day they were all banished. The smug smile Ed wore. The cold, hard gaze he wore when he spat at my feet just before being exiled beyond the city walls.

  The three of them were cast out of Cassowary. There was a fourth. I assume that the man named Mike of whom they spoke is who is missing. Each was banned from all three cities eight years ago after attempting to attack a young woman in the city. Nadia was her name. She was just eighteen at the time. She picked out all three. Said their faces were imprinted in her brain. All of the men were questioned. All had a different story at the time that placed them elsewhere. None of their stories checked out. Not that I’d believed them to begin with. Fortunately, Nadia had g
otten away from them before anything had happened so they had only been banished from Cassowary and not sentenced to death. But I remember them. And I remember how Nadia described their attack. Like a pack of lurkers circling then descending on prey. The taunts. The fear they instilled. Had she not fought, they’d have stolen from her that which can never be returned when taken by force. They’d have stolen her choice. Her dignity. Her rights as not only a woman but as a human being. I felt for her then. And now that I am in the position she was in, despite being twelve years her senior and seasoned at combat, I am scared.

  Ed turns to face me. Undoubtedly seeing the fear shine in my eyes, a wicked grin carves his face in two. “Ah, she does remember us.”

  Tom cranes his neck to look at me. He laughs. “Yeah, she does. Now I feel better.” A cackle filled with madness sprays from him.

  “She’ll be a nice plaything we can keep here at camp,” Earl says.

  “Yes, she certainly will,” Ed says as his eyes linger in the vicinity of my chest. He springs forward, pouncing on me and pinning me to the ground. I’m knocked backward, my head hitting earth and rocks hard. A burst of pain at the back of my skull is followed by a scattering of white pinpricks behind my closed eyelids. He straddles my thighs while Earl and Tom hold my legs and arms wide. Tearing at the button on my pants and yanking them, Ed emits a low growl. “I think you’re going to like this,” he says.

  But as soon as the word “this” leaves his lips, the shrill whistle of an arrow slices through the night and lodges in his left eye. The impact knocks him backward, howling and writhing in pain before he teeters forward and falls atop me.

  Tom releases my hands and stands, clutching my sword out in front of him. He scans the perimeter of the clearing.

  A hush has befallen the woodland. The squeak and scurry of mice has ceased. The hum of crickets is silent. It’s as if the darkness itself and all the creatures that dwell within it are waiting with baited breath.

  “Come out, coward!” Tom shouts.

  He is answered first with staunch silence. Then by the cry of an arrow shrieking through the ether and piercing his throat. The sword falls from his grip, landing with a loud clang. He clutches his neck, a wet burbling sound bubbling from his lips, before he collapses sideways in a lifeless heap.

  I’m left with Earl. Eyes darting wildly, he scuttles close to me, ripping a dagger from a sheath at his ankle and holding it to my throat.

  “Show yourself!” he screams. Spittle spews from his mouth and lands on my face. “Come out now or I slit her throat!” He yanks me to my feet, jerking me so hard that the blade slices the outer layer of my skin. “Do you hear me?” The forest doesn’t answer. “I’m going to give you to three or she dies! One! Two! Thr—” he begins screaming but never shouts the number “three”. An arrow flies through the air with laser-point precision and drills into his open mouth. Silenced, he falls away from me. The dagger lands first before he drops to the ground with a thud.

  Chest heaving, I breathe in short, shallow pants. My entire body shakes. I should fear for my own life at this point but I don’t. I’ve been an open target from the beginning. And there’s only one person I know who can shoot like that. One person who can take down targets from a distance with lethal accuracy. “June!” I call out her name. My lifeblood pounds against my skin in time with my heartbeat and adrenaline. She walks out of the bushes toward me. Moonlight highlights the contours of her lean physique. Cords of muscle ripple from her back and shoulders and down the length of her arms. Her actions as an archer are precisely orchestrated, each confident and purposeful. The way she moves out from concealment is no exception. She is a skilled hunter. A warrior. My chest swells with relief at the sight of her. And pride. Eyes welling with tears, I say her name again. “June,” I whisper.

  She rushes toward me, closing the distance between us and I throw my arms around her. At least one person I love still lives.

  Chapter 8

  Hot tears burn my eyes. My throat snaps shut, tight around the emotion that has gathered there. June is here, alive and well. June saved my life, and most importantly she’s safe. “H-ow did you find me?” I ask. My voice is little more than a reed-thin sound muffled by her hair as I clutch her tightly with my head near the crook of her neck. It cracks and I do not try to hide it. The days of feigning strength for her benefit are over. I’ve seen and survived far too much to conceal who I am. To conceal that I’m human. I’ve come to learn that sometimes true strength means being completely vulnerable. Allowing who you truly are to show. Loving someone more than yourself. I love June more than myself. I love John and William more than myself. More than life itself. I love Sully more than myself. With each person I’ve added for whom I’d readily forfeit my life, I’ve become increasingly vulnerable. And stronger. A small whimper escapes me, a shudder racking my body as the tears that seared my eyes seconds earlier fall down my cheeks. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins has seeped from me. I hug June tightly, afraid to let go.

  “Are you okay?” June asks. “They tried to—” This time, it’s her voice that catches. She sniffles a few times then steps back, composing herself. Silvery moonlight kisses her skin, highlighting the muscle definition of her shoulders and the length of each arm. Though she looks like a goddess of war, I’ll always see her as my kid sister, the little girl I want to protect. “They were going to do to you what they did to Nadia.”

  Nadia. She remembered them well enough to connect them to Nadia? She recognized their faces? “You recognized them?” My eyes widen and I’m sure I look as surprised as I feel.

  “No, not at first. Not until a few minutes ago, actually.” She shakes her head as if she’s as stunned by the revelation of who they were as I was. “At first I followed the Urthmen trucks. I was just outside of Tyr waiting and trying to figure out what to do and then they pulled up.” Her gaze grows distant for a moment as she stares just beyond me with eyes that don’t look focused on a particular point. “They were right next to me. They pulled up, with their long hair and scraggly beards, and killed their engines. They started talking. Talked about their plan to get you.” Her malachite eyes pierce the night as they focus on me fleetingly. “They had no clue I was just a few feet away. Close enough to hear them. And smell them.” She curls her upper lip in disgust. “There were four of them.” Her tone hardens. “I took out one of them just as they left for Vox.”

  Mike. She took out Mike. Mike was the rider they lost. The one they didn’t seem to care about losing. June was the person responsible for his demise. Not the Urthmen. Knowing that gives me an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.

  “After he fell off his bike, I took it. I couldn’t let them come after you.” June’s face is set in stone. Though the three men of which she speaks are dead and died by her hand, she still retains a flinty demeanor. “At that point, all I knew was that they wanted to kidnap you, not force themselves on you.” She spits the word “force” with hatred then glares at the corpse nearest her.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, forcing the images of their faces, their taunts and the feel of their hands upon me to the farthest reaches of my mind. The more pressing matter is that my sister rode into a fray of blood-thirsty Urthmen in pursuit of a trio of dangerous, misogynistic men aiming to kidnap me. The horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened to her are endless. I can’t believe she took such a risk. “So you were there with all the Urthmen when they grabbed me?” I ask as I try to wrap my mind around it. The thought of June riding straight into the dark heart of enemy-laden territory alone is almost too much for me to process.

  “Yes,” she replies. She folds her arms across her chest.

  I rub my temples for a moment then rake a hand through the front of my hair. “You shouldn’t have risked it.” I shake my head. “You could’ve been killed.” I look her directly in the eyes.

  “You’d have done it for me, wouldn’t you?” she asks and already knows the answer.

  “Yes, but yo
u’re my sister,” I start.

  “And you’re my sister,” she says then looks at me. Though her expression is unreadable at the moment, the slight tick of one eyebrow seems to defy me to pursue the argument further.

  “But you’re my little sister. You’re younger than me and I am supposed to look out for you,” I say pleadingly. “So of course I’d have done it. I’d do anything for you.”

  “I’m not a child anymore, Avery,” June snaps then looks shocked by her own response.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying you are,” I say.

  “I know,” June says in a far softer tone. “And I’m sorry for saying that like I did. But you have to understand that the fact that I’m younger than you doesn’t matter at all. It doesn’t mean I somehow love you less or am less willing to risk my life for you.” She pauses and takes a breath. Her brow furrows and she stares at the ground for several beats. When she looks up at me again, she says, “Don’t you get it, Avery? Don’t you see by now? You’ve risked your life for me more times than I can count. You changed everything, brought about peace, something I never thought I’d see in my life.”

  A small, bitter laugh passes my lips. “Yeah, that peace I brought about worked out well, didn’t it?” My stomach feels like snakes inhabit is, ceaselessly slithering over and under each other. “According to him,” I clip my chin toward Ed, whose mouth is open on a silent, pain-filled scream, “everyone is dead. Every city has been invaded and every person within it slaughtered. All I did was issue my people a prolonged death sentence.”