Extinction: Planet Urth, #6

by Jennifer Martucci

  Tilting my head skyward, sunlight touches my eyelids. The feel of it after days of time spent in the dark, dank forest is so pleasant I can’t help but smile. Cheeks warming in the delicate rays of waning sun, I’m tempted by a sense of peace brazen enough to attempt to wash over me. A soft breeze conspires with it, caressing my skin as it blows off the lake and gently sways treetops. In the distance and along with the swish of drier leaves rustling is the sound of birds taking wing. It lulls me, lifting me up into the wind as daintily as a feather drifting on its current.

  My eyes open to the sound of Lucas’s voice. “See that?” He points out at the lake.

  I follow the trajectory of his finger and see a small island of land at the center. “I see it,” I reply.

  “Me, too,” says June. “Looks like the most peaceful place in the forest.” She laughs.

  Lucas turns toward her. “I’m glad you think so because that’s where we’ll be spending the night.”

  “What?” I ask incredulously.

  “You’re kidding, right?” June says.

  “Nope, I’m not kidding. That right there is where we’re spending the night,” Lucas replies.

  June and I trade glances.

  “Uh, you've slept there before I hope?” June asks.

  “I have,” he answers. “The Night Lurkers can't swim.” He strips off his boots. “Oh wait, can you guys swim?”

  “Of course we can,” I say. But if we had answered “no”, we’d be stranded out in the open without a place to hide from the Night Lurkers.

  “Great!” he says. He wades out into the water, his pair of spears sheathed at his back, and begins swimming toward the small island at the lake’s center.

  June and I jump in behind him after we remove our shoes and place them in our packs. The water is surprisingly warm. I expected it to be a shock of cold water befitting the darkest parts of the forest. But without trees to cover it and sunlight all day, it’s pleasant. We swim until we reach the island, which is little more than a small, flat piece of land with several trees, large rocks and some weedy tufts of growth.

  Once we reach the coast, we place all of our belongings atop the rocks to dry. Lucas peels off his shirt and pants, leaving him in just shorts, and jumps back in. June and I mimic his actions and strip down to our underclothes. We take the opportunity and clean ourselves in the lake, and play. We splash around, laughing and goofing around until just a disc of fire can be seen peeking from the horizon.

  Back on land, we set up camp on the aisle, starting a fire with dry wood. We remove our sodden meat from the packs and heat it over the open flame. The fire feels exquisite against my damp skin and the meat, warmed, is delicious. When our bellies are full and our hair is mostly dry, we extinguish the fire as the first star appears in the sky.

  We chat softly as day surrenders to night. Darkness lays claim to the earth. It is then that we see the first inky forms stalking on the shore from which we swam. Their movements are agile and stealthy despite their size as they steal along in massive packs. Occasional yelps are heard here and there as they communicate with one another. The sound is slightly dulled by the faint stirring of treetops as a breeze blows off the lake.

  My gaze is pinned to them when the breeze picks up, rattling branches in the distance and rustling leaves. I watch as a Night Lurker among the pack halts. It stops dead in its tracks, lifting its massive head and sniffing the air. A strange sound emanates from it. Throaty and somewhere between a growl and a whine, the sound sets the fine hairs on my body on end.

  It moves to the edge of the lake, still sniffing, and staring right at us.

  “June. Lucas,” I whisper. “Do you see—”

  “I see,” June says before I finish my sentence.

  “I see it, too,” Lucas says.

  The beast whines again then lifts its chin, its deadly gaze still trained on us, and emits a spine-tingling howl. Ripping through the atmosphere, it carves the span between it and us, tracing my flesh like icy fingers. Goosebumps dotting my flesh, panic swells within me.

  The cries of the Night Lurker have attracted attention. More and more join it. Before long, I estimate that hundreds crowd the bank. They glower at us, their eyes glowing in the darkness as they bay.

  “Are you sure they can't swim?” June asks the question lingering in my mind. The answer to which I’m afraid of hearing.

  “Pretty sure,” Lucas replies.

  His words chill the blood in my veins and make it feel as if it’s pooling at my feet.

  Mouth dry and throat feeling as if it’s lined with sand, I say, “Pretty sure?”

  Lucas nods.

  “What happened when you spent the night out here?” June asks.

  “They never saw us,” he answers.

  “Oh my gosh,” June breathes. She doesn’t have to say another word. I share in her fear that at any given moment, they will all take to the water, swim out to the island and kill us.

  Hours pass and the Night Lurkers never waiver. They remain at the edge of the lake, howling, as more and more join them. Among what appears to be thousands of them, I see one make its way out into the water.

  “What the heck?” Lucas says. He springs to his feet and rushes to retrieve his spears.

  Eerie silence befalls the Night Lurkers. It’s as if they’re waiting and watching with baited breath to see what becomes of the one in their pack that’s ventured out into the lake.

  The Night Lurker takes several tentative steps. It starts to move through the water, swimming briefly before sinking. It appears to have a hard time staying afloat, and looks as if it's its first time in the water and attempting such a feat. Regardless, others follow its lead. They make their way into the water slowly, wading just up to their knees.

  The lone Lurker begins paddling. Little by little, it finds its stroke and makes its way toward us.

  “No, no,” June says. “Oh my gosh. This can’t be happening.”

  It nears the island slowly but surely.

  Heart pounding, my mind can’t process what’s happening. It’s surreal. A nightmare made manifest. I grab my sword. But I don’t know what else to do.

  In my periphery, I watch Lucas lift his spear. Without warning, he hurls it into the water. It lances the Night Lurker as it is almost at the edge. The beast howls out. It splashes and flails wildly, the commotion halting the others at the shoreline. My pulse thunders behind my eardrums. The rhythm is so loud and frantic it nearly drowns out the sound of the splashing. But then the splashing stops. And all I hear is the frenzied beat of my heart. I look to the water. There, haloed by water darker that the rest, is the Night Lurker. It floats face-down and unmoving.

  “You got it,” June says and hugs Lucas.

  The rest of the Night Lurkers jump out of the water and retreat to the land. I can’t be sure, but they react as if the Lurker’s death in the water was somehow related to the water alone and not to Lucas and his spear. Nevertheless, none try again, a fact I’m grateful for.

  They do not attempt the swim, but they remain in place, howling all the while. The night creeps by at a painfully sluggish pace. The incessant bays keep us from sleeping. When day finally dawns, I am exhausted in every sense of the word but relieved. We survived. June, Lucas and I survived the night.

  Chapter 15

  The sun is high in the sky. Directly overhead and warm, the forest canopy has all but vanished. Short saplings and plump shrubs have replaced towering trees and hostile, thorny foliage. The nearly half-day walk has been far easier than it has been since entering the Great Forest. Pleasant almost.

  But all semblance of the word “pleasant” vanishes when the whoosh of a car passing can be heard. It is an ominous reminder that we are at the edge of the woods. Close to the world beyond the forest, which has reverted to a violent Urthmen stronghold.

  Hearing the sound, Lucas stops in his tracks. “What was that?” he asks. “What was that sound?” Knees and elbows slightly bent and with his arms at his side to
halt us, he looks poised to fight or flee depending on the potential adversary.

  “That was a vehicle,” I answer.

  Lucas regards me curiously, his expression shouting “No way!”

  I nod and wave him in the direction from which the sound came. We creep toward a cluster of bushes. Parting them, we peek out into the brilliant daylight and see a roadway. Pavement, blanched and roughened by time and wear, stretches out on either side of us. We’ve reached the end of the Great Forest.

  “I can't believe what I'm seeing,” Lucas marvels. “It’s...unbelievable.”

  Straining and staring to my left, I see another vehicle making its way down the road. Small and compact, it resembles a car, but the engine is loud like that of a truck. The color is a drab olive with swatches of brown and dark green. It would be easy to conceal if it were to venture into a wooded area. The sight of it makes me fear for Lucas, his family, and the entire village. We crouch back into the bushes and watch as it passes.

  Lucas’s mouth is ajar and his eyes are round as his gaze follows the passing vehicle. “I-I can't believe what I just saw! How does it move on its own?”

  “When you step down on the gas pedal inside the vehicle and shift gears from park, the engine turns the wheels and the tires grip the road. The road and the tires form friction. The friction is what pushes the car forward, backward or whatever direction the steering wheel is turned,” I say. Sully explained it to me. Sully explained how vehicles work many years ago. Too proud to ask in front of anyone else—because after all, I’d driven one!—I asked him when we first met. He’d taken his time and explained the process involved in a motorized vehicle’s movement to me in great detail, taking care to do so without the slightest trace of condescension. Rather, he seemed to enjoy teaching, explaining and sharing what he knew with me. That’s how he is. That’s his way. It’s one of the many characteristics that make him a great father.

  Thoughts of Sully and the boys twist in my chest. They could be somewhere beyond the narrow tree line behind which we sit.

  “Amazing,” Lucas says still gazing at the now-empty roadway. He turns to me slowly. “I want to come with you. I can help.”

  I look into his eyes. They are wide, kind eyes. Pellucid, pleading, and filled with a calling to help. I find myself not wanting to turn him away and disappoint him. Not wanting to hurt him. For a moment, I consider his request. I actually start to weigh the possibility of taking him with us. He’d undoubtedly be an asset.

  But then I catch sight of something else: my reflection.

  I see myself reflected in his eyes.

  A mother.

  Lucas is Cassidy and Colin’s son.

  He is Ara, Pike, and Kohl’s brother.

  He is also a future leader. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones.

  I cannot risk his life. I cannot cause his family any more worry than they’ve already endured in his absence. I won’t.

  Steeling myself, I say, “Lucas, you can’t come with us. You need to head back. You need to go back to your village.”

  There is a moment—a fraction of a second sometimes—when you hurt the feelings of another person, and a fleeting look flickers through their features. A tick of the brow. The quick downturn of the mouth. A flash of hurt in their eyes that lets you know immediately that you’ve done damage. I see that look now in Lucas’s eyes. The amount of damage I fear I’ve caused is the worry. It’s what sends a sense of dread striking through me like quicksilver.

  “B-but I can help you,” he says. His tone is beseeching. “I helped you this far. Surely, I can help you out there.” His gaze searches mine.

  “Lucas, you promised.” Now I sound like I’m begging him. “You gave us your word that once you get us here you’d go back. Your family needs you. They’re probably worried sick about you.” I take a cursory look at the roadway. Somewhere beyond it, my family waits. Alive. I hope. And if they are, they need me. I return my attention to him. “Your village needs you. Please.”

  All that’s taken place since what was supposed to be the ten-year celebration of peace has risen to the surface. Brimming with more emotions than I can contain within my skin, I’m barely able to keep from crying.

  As if sensing the severity of my inner turmoil, Lucas nods. He casts his eyes downward, staring at an unspecific point on the ground, before he lifts his chin and his gaze meets mine. “I understand,” he says. His tone is dejected. He clears his throat and then in a stronger voice says, “A promise is a promise.”

  I smile a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Admittedly, I’m going to miss Lucas. I’m sad to see him go despite being the one to send him away. Though the reasons behind me doing so are sound and my mind agrees, it’s my heart that’s having trouble with it all. And more often than not the heart has its own set of reasoning independent of the mind. I’ll miss him. Plain and simple. Lucas has grown on me since meeting him. I care about him as I would a brother if I had one. I’ll worry about his safe return to his village, too.

  “Will you be okay getting back?” my voice catches unexpectedly. I envision him alone in the forest in the densest parts of it. Dank and dim and stifling like a tomb of foliage teeming with wildlife. I envision him alone in the forest at night, with no one to distract his thoughts from the bloodthirsty baying of the Night Lurkers.

  “I’ll follow the same path back and sleep in the same places,” he says.

  “Even that island in the lake?” The worry I’m feeling springs forth. It drips from every word in my question.

  “I’ll try and hide myself better,” he says with a wink and a smile.

  I shake my head. He’s consoling me. I’m the adult and a parent and he’s consoling me. I silently beg the universe for his safe return to his village. For his continued safety. “Lucas, I can’t thank you enough. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it,” I say.

  “It’s true,” June says. “We’d never have survived the boarts, and if by some slim chance we did, we never would’ve thought to swim to the island.” She pauses, her expression earnest. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

  Lucas stares at his feet. Though I can’t see his face straightaway, I can tell by the gathering of his brows that he’s deep in thought. “I was honored to help you both,” he says, his voice tight and fraught with emotion.

  “We were honored, too,” I reply as a single tear slips from the corner of my eye and slides down my cheek.

  “I wish I could stay.” He looks up. His eyes shine with unshed tears. “But I get it. I’m not trying to convince you and I won’t follow. I promise,” he says as if he’s reading my thoughts.

  “I wish you could, too,” I take a chance and admit. “But you need to go. We both know that. Your family needs you. And remember what I said about preparing them. Preparing the village.” I swallow hard against the tightness in my throat. “Promise me.”

  “I will.” He nods. His eyes shimmer with tears, overflowing and spilling over his lower lashes. He swipes them away quickly, as if embarrassed of the display. He shouldn’t be. My cheeks are now wet with tears. They trickle down my face. He opens his arms to me and I step forward.

  I hug him tightly and place a kiss on his cheek. “Please be safe, Lucas,” I whisper in his ear.

  “I promise I’ll be safe,” he whispers back to me.

  When I step away from him, June hugs and kisses him goodbye. As they part, he takes a final look at each of us. “If anything changes beyond this forest, I’ll come back for you and your people. You have my word,” I promise him. And I will. If there is any way I can better their chances of survival or protect them, I will. I owe them a debt equal to and in the amount of both my life and my sister’s life. And if I manage to find and save my family, they will be tied into that debt of gratitude owed to Lucas and his people.

  “I hope I see you again,” he says in a voice that breaks. He nods then turns. He dashes off, disappearing into the forest on the path we just left and taking a small piece of me with
him in the process.

  I meant every word I said to him. He’s a remarkable person. I saw true leadership in him and am confident he has the skill to not only survive in this world, but to also help others survive along with him. June and I are living proof of that. I do hope to see him again. I’m not sure how or why, but I sense I will. In the time between now and then, he’ll be thought of fondly. And he will be missed.

  “He’s special, isn’t he?” June says.

  I nod, too choked up to speak as we begin following the roadway. Intermittently, a car passes, letting us know we’re heading in the right direction. We’re heading toward Elian.

  “I could tell by the way you said goodbye to him. Almost like you knew him your whole life. Like he was family or something.”

  “He is special, June. I see a leader when I look at him.” My voice cracks. I have no reason to be embarrassed. My feelings are my feelings. I can’t will them away any more than I can will the rise and set of the sun. “As for being like family...I guess he did feel like that. Like a son or a much younger brother. I felt protective of him even though he saved us.”

  “He sure did save us,” June says.

  The swish of dried leaves at our feet and the buzz of insects all around us makes it harder to hear approaching Urthmen. As a result, I ceaselessly scan the forest, my head oscillating from left to right as my eyes study the area. It’s imperative that I remain vigilant. Especially since June and I have lost our third set of eyes. Keen eyes that didn’t miss anything.

  We continue, traveling parallel to the roadway and concealed by the trees lining it until the sun sets. Lurkers aren’t a worry as far out as we are. They burrow deep in the dark heart of forests. Food along the forest perimeter is scarce, and the intense light from vehicle headlights is more than their eyes can endure as extreme photosensitivity makes both sunlight and artificial light unbearable.