Extinction: Planet Urth, #6

by Jennifer Martucci

  “Boarts?” he scrunches his features and questions then continues. “I’ve never seen any car, let alone a small one, so I can’t really agree or disagree with you,” he replies, his tan cheeks flushed. “But everything in this forest is big. The Night Lurkers, the boarts as you call them, the birds and squirrels. And you’ve got to see the spiders!” His eyes widen when he speaks the last sentence, his voice filled with childlike wonder.

  “I’ve seen them. No thanks,” I say with a shiver.

  June shakes her head. “No. No. No spiders for us, thanks.”

  Lucas grins and lifts his hands to chest height. “Okay. I promise I won’t find any more to show you. But they’re everywhere. They’re everywhere in this forest.” He shrugs casually while I feel as though innumerable insect feelers are scuttling across my skin.

  “Gah!” I shake, swiping a hand down each arm to rid them of the phantom bugs.

  Lucas laughs. It’s a pleasant sound. I’m supposed to be angry. Angry that this young man deliberately disobeyed not only my wishes, but more importantly his parents’ wishes. But no matter how hard I try to work myself up to being angry, I just can’t seem to. His disarming demeanor works in his favor almost as much as the fact that he just appeared, as if from nowhere, and launched two spears with laser-point precision and saved my sister and I. The best I can do is ask a question. “You've been following us this whole time?”

  Lucas lowers his head and nods.

  “How is that possible?” I wonder aloud. “I never heard you or saw you.”

  “I’m a hunter.” He shrugs. “Moving through these woods without being heard or seen is what I do.” Again, he is unpretentious. Shy almost. A part of me wants to shake him by the shoulders and tell him he shouldn’t be. That moving through a forest like this, unseen and unheard, is a gift. It’s a talent that can’t be taught. It’s an instinct. It means he can merge with the woods in a sense. Track animals. Or in our case, track humans. I’m beyond impressed. I’m proud of him. And he should be proud of himself.

  “Wow,” June says. “Avery and I are hunters, too. We’re alert at all times. The fact that we were unaware of you means you’re good. Better than good actually.”

  Lucas’s cheeks turn scarlet. “Thanks,” he mumbles and shifts uncomfortably, the color of his cheeks deepening further.

  “You saved our lives and I cannot thank you enough, Lucas,” I say. I hate what I’m about to say next. “But you can’t come with us the Elian. You need to get back.”

  For a moment, Lucas looks as if I just struck him, and my heart sinks like a stone from my chest to my feet. He clears his throat then in a soft voice says, “I can’t go back. It’s almost dark out. I’d never make it home before the Night Lurkers come out.”

  Feeling like an ungrateful pile of boart dung, my heart sinks further, so that I’m convinced it’s fallen to the forest floor. He risked his life to follow us this far and rescued us from certain death and I just suggested he turn and trek back just before dusk. Oh, and this of course after he brought us to his village and gave us food and shelter and shared his amazing family with us! What’s wrong with me?! “No, of course not. I don’t know what I was thinking,” I confess. I cover my face partially to hide that it burns with shame and pretend to rub my temples while I think. I need to keep him safe. It’s the least I can do for Cassidy and Colin. For Lucas. They’ve done so much for June and I already. Strangers. Strangers took us in and treated us with kindness. After witnessing brutality in its most absolute form and then being betrayed by someone I thought was a friend, Lucas and his family managed to restore a modicum of faith within my skeptical heart. Kindness has a way of doing that. Of finding its way into one’s heart and repairing even the most broken of pieces. “Stay the night with us. We’ll find a place to hide out and you can go back in the morning,” I say.

  “I don’t want to go back. I want to stay and help you get through the forest. I’ll go back when you’ve made it out of here safely.” His eyes, the brightest shade of aquamarine I’ve ever seen, plead with me. Caught in a period somewhere between man and child, Lucas’s features are soft and hard simultaneously. The sharp angles of his jawline and straight nose and his height and build are adult. But his eyes, expressive and wide with innocence, coupled with a tuft of hair near his crown that refuses to flatten, remind me of his youth.

  “Lucas,” I say in a soft tone I’d always reserved for John and William. “Please, it’s too dangerous.”

  Lucas stares at his feet for a long moment. “It wouldn’t be the first time I've done it,” he mutters.

  “What?” June says.

  “It wouldn’t be? As in you’ve done it before? Gone to the edge of the forest near Urthmen territory?” I ask, my questions firing from me in quick succession.

  Lucas lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “How do you think I know this area so well?” he asks in an unassuming tone. “This is beyond the section where we hunt. Far beyond it.” He looks around. “We’re a day’s walk from the village.” He returns his attention to me. “Kohl and I have ventured out for days in every direction.”

  “Why?” June asks.

  Lucas quirks a brow at her and blushes. “To explore I guess. And to mostly prove Arundel wrong. He said no one could survive a night in the forest outside of our walls.” He shrugs. “Kohl and I have done it three times.” His honesty is refreshing and his motive is understandable. I’d have done the same. In the past, when I’ve been told I cannot do something either because of my gender or age or the level of perceived danger involved in the endeavor, I did it twice. Once to prove my naysayer wrong. And the second time to actually enjoy the moment of accomplishment.

  “What did your parents have to say about those three times?” June asks.

  “They were furious with us, which is why we stopped doing it,” Lucas admits. “My mom actually cried. Made me feel awful.” He hangs his head again.

  “She was worried,” I say softly.

  “I guess it wasn’t worth it then,” June says and her words sound more like a question than a statement.

  “I regret making her cry. But I don’t regret going.” He looks up and meets June’s gaze. His cheeks blush less this time. “It was important to go, important to know what’s out here, and to know our surroundings. I thought it was important then and I still do,” Lucas says. I get the impression he’s trying to persuade us to let him see us to the edge of the Great Forest.

  Heaving a sigh, I measure my words carefully, pouring every ounce of sincerity I feel into each one. “I’m sure you know this forest well. And you’d be a great asset to us. But I still can’t let you. I can’t let you take the risk of not returning to your family. To your village. You’re too important.” And that is the truth. Not only would I never want to risk devastating his parents if he doesn’t return, but I also do not want to risk the loss his village would suffer if something were to happen to him. Lucas is a natural leader. I see in him a quality that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in another person.

  “I’m not going back in the morning, Avery,” he says. Though his tone is not overbearing, it is strong. And it doesn’t leave room for debate. “You’ll benefit from me staying. Trust me. I know this forest.” He levels me with a determined gaze. “Besides,” he bobs one shoulder. “If you send me away, I’m not going to go home. I’m just going to follow you. So you might as well have me beside you rather than three steps behind you.”

  I realize the moment the words leave Lucas’s lips that arguing is futile. Nothing I can say will change his mind or deter him. All I can do is agree. “Okay,” I say.

  “Okay?” Lucas is stunned when he repeats the single word I’ve spoken.

  “Yes. What else can I say? You’ve left me without a choice,” I reply.

  “You’re a brave little guy and you drive a hard bargain,” June says and winks. When she passes him to retrieve her pack from the ground, she pats his cheek.

  The color drains from Lucas’s face and h
e looks as if he’ll faint just before his complexion blazes a brilliant crimson. He mumbles something incoherent that may be a thank-you, but he’s so flustered it’s hard for me to tell.

  Smiling to myself, I walk over to the tree where my pack sits overturned. I’m careful to sidestep the gore from the speared boart nearby. By the time I return, Lucas has composed himself and we set off on our journey.

  We walk for quite some time. The forest grows dim and fog begins to form in the lush, humid space.

  “It’s time to stop for the night, and that’s where we’ll stay,” Lucas says. He points to a tree that I’d swear touches the sky. Its top can’t be seen from where I stand. Majestic in every sense of the word, the rough and furrowed bark extends infinitely toward the heavens.

  “Whoa,” June comments. “I’ve never seen a tree so tall. Neither of us have.”

  “There are more like it. Not too many anymore. But from what some of the people in my village say they’ve learned from generation to generation, the forest used to be filled with them. Like giants,” Lucas says. He raises his leg high and finds a knob on the trunk. He begins scaling the tree with ease, finding rung after rung. June and I follow.

  We climb until my arms and legs tremble from exertion. We’re near the top. The air is noticeably cooler and less humid. And the sky can been seen clearly through the remaining boughs. Navy-blue and glittering with points of light, the moon is waxing with just a few gossamer clouds lazily drifting past it. The view is stunning. That is, until I look down.

  “We’re safe up here, Avery,” Lucas assures me. He likely assumes that my stricken expression is fear of Night Lurkers and worry that they’ll find us. As high up as we are, it’d be impossible for them to catch our scent. As high as we are, falling is more of a worry. Falling...

  Shaking my head in an effort to literally clear the thought, I scoot my backside backward so that my spine is flush against the trunk and unhook the straps on my pack. I secure it around my waist, looping it around the tree trunk to that I am somewhat safeguarded from falling.

  “To be safe, we should take turns sleeping,” Lucas suggests. “This way whoever is awake and on watch can look out for Night Lurkers and the other two who are sleeping.”

  June and I nod in agreement.

  “I’ll let you two sleep first.” Again, he isn’t forceful, but his words aren’t up for negotiation.

  “Okay,” June says. “I’m exhausted from walking all day and the climb.”

  “Thank you, Lucas,” I say. I don’t mention that I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep for some time. Though exhausted to the point that I’m trembling, I’m higher off the ground than I’ve ever been with such little support.

  “No problem. Sleep well.” He smiles warmly.

  June closes her eyes and I do as well. Sleep finds me quicker than I thought it would. I’m startled awake when Lucas shakes me to let me know it’s my turn to be on watch. The night passes with us sleeping in shifts.

  Despite not sleeping the whole night through, I feel remarkably well-rested by the time a new day is about to dawn. Before the sun crests the horizon, we are hiking at a brisk pace. As we do, Lucas asks us countless questions about our lives beyond the forest. Before the Peace Treaty. And after it. His questions aren’t related to what we shared with him and his family in the village. They’re more specific. They’re of a more personal nature. He asks about my sons. About Sully and what it’s like to have children in this world. I answer honesty, telling him that all of John and William’s years were lived in perceived peace. And that all of that changed at the ten-year celebration. I tell him in a voice that snags that my world shattered into innumerable pieces then and there. That everyone I care about with the exception of June and Peter are unaccounted for. Riley, Lark, Oliver, Prince Garan to name the few closest to me beyond my children and husband. Are they alive? I have no way of knowing. I’d like to believe they are, but after witnessing what I’ve witnessed, my hope waivers. When the topic returns to Sully, John and William, my throat grows so tight I cannot speak. Sensing it, June begins asking Lucas questions.

  “So Lucas, are there any girls in your village you’re interested in?" she asks.

  I’m shocked by her question and apparently he is too. He trips over a knobby root, nearly losing his footing. As soon as he regains it, he lowers his head. His cheeks are bright red when he mumbles, “there aren't any that are my age.” He clears his throat then adds, “There are a few that are in their twenties but they’re married.”

  “Oh,” June says.

  “And the rest of the girls are twelve or younger.” He shrugs. “Too young for me.”

  June bobs one shoulder. “For now. But they’ll grow up, and as you get older and they get older the age difference will matter less,” June says.

  Lucas looks at her and frowns. “I guess. But I can’t imagine that now. They’re kids.” He slows a moment as the longest, plumpest chipmunk I’ve ever seen waddles across our path. “Are you married?” he asks June.

  June shakes her head. “No. I haven’t met anyone I could see myself with, you know? No one that I connect with.”

  Lucas’s posture straightens. He puffs out his chest just a bit. His efforts aren’t lost on June. She looks past him slightly, her eyes meeting mine, and smiles. Though she isn’t leading him on in the least, I can tell she finds his behavior adorable. I do, too.

  “Yeah, I understand that,” Lucas says. “You need to find someone you connect with. Someone who is like you.” An edge of excitement has crept into his tone. He’s trying desperately to keep it under wraps but it isn’t working. Each step he takes practically bounces with hope.

  “I agree,” June says.

  “Girls younger than me don’t care about hunting and training. They almost never spar and wouldn’t know how to hold a bow and arrow if both were dropped in their laps.”

  “Well, Ara does. Ara cares about training. She’s an amazing archer, too,” June corrects playfully.

  Lucas smiles. His body is turned toward her so that he’s practically sidestepping his way along the path. I almost feeling guilty interrupting the progress he thinks he’s made when a detail of our surroundings comes to my attention. The trees are fewer and growing farther apart. The forest has brightened considerably as the canopy has thinned considerably. The air is warmer and less damp. “Lucas, are we near the edge of the forest already?” I ask.

  “No, not at all. Why?” he replies, shifting his body so that it faces forward once again.

  Overhead, the angle of the sun is visible. It’s lowering, sinking toward the west quickly. Soon dusk will be upon us. “The sun will be setting soon and we need to find a place to stay for the night.” I stop and look around. The trees are far shorter than they were and none among them has foliage lush enough to conceal one of us, much less all three of us. “These trees won’t hide us from the Night Lurkers.”

  “We need to find a tree as tall as the one we slept in last night,” June says.

  “I don't think there are any trees that tall anywhere. Certainly not around here for sure,” I add and do not bother to hide the worry in my voice. “Lucas, do the trees grow denser if we keep going? We need to find one suitable for the night, but as far as I can see there are none.”

  “No, they don’t grow denser if we keep going in the direction we’re going. In fact, they open up altogether,” Lucas replies.

  June and I whirl on him. “What?” she says.

  “Is there a cave or someplace else you have in mind?” I ask.

  “Nope,” Lucas says.

  “A cave wouldn’t do us any good anyway,” I think aloud. “Not without something to block its opening and seal us inside.”

  “You’re right. And I do have a place in mind. A place where we’ll all sleep more comfortably than we did last night.” Lucas flashes a smile at both of us.

  “What? What do you mean? What about the Night Lurkers?” Now it is June’s body that has turned to face Lucas compl
etely, though I doubt she’s giving him the kind of attention he’d prefer.

  Still, he smiles. “You’ll see.”

  “I’ll see?” Her arms are folded across her chest and she leans forward slightly.

  “Yep,” Lucas says with an even wider smile. He begins walking again. June and I follow.

  The scant coverage overhead reveals that the sun is dropping lower in the sky. Nightfall will be upon us before we know it and we have yet to arrive at the mysterious place Lucas claims will afford us a better night’s sleep than last night. Panic begins to take hold. Before long, this forest will be teeming with Night Lurkers. If we don’t have a place to hide out from them for the night, we will be an exciting snack for them. Looking around once again, it’s obvious that a treetop is not an option. The trees are far too short and flimsy and continue to grow farther apart and fewer the farther we go. The Night Lurkers wouldn’t have to work hard to see us and snatch us from one.

  “Lucas, please tell me this overnight spot you have for us is nearby,” I ask worriedy.

  “It’s just over this ridge,” he says.

  There is a small lip of land that is pebbly and dry underfoot. Once we’re over it, we’re met with a sparse cluster of bushy growth. On the other side, I find myself standing on a sandy embankment. My mouth falls open.

  A body of water stretches out before us. With an expansive break in the canopy of trees overhead, it feels as if we’re no longer in the forest at all, but in another place entirely. A place where Night Lurkers and Urthmen don’t exist. Where gargantuan boarts do not attack, and spiders the size of my head do not exist. A serene place.

  “Oh my gosh,” June breathes.

  “I told you,” Lucas says.

  She rushes toward the shore. Lucas and I follow. The three of us simply stand absorbing the entirety of the landscape before us.

  Large salmon-hued birds swoop down from the sky, gracefully dipping to the surface of the water and plucking out fish before they ascend to the perfect periwinkle-blue sky. Their movement makes waves that ripple over to me, growing smaller and smaller as they do. Once the birds are gone and the movement fades, the lake becomes a perfectly-still mirror of water.