My entire body trembles, as the milky filaments all around me quake. I pull my arm, wrenching my shoulder until it feels as if it will separate from my body altogether. But I do not care. Anything will be better than enduring what the boart endured. I tug and yank. Skin stretches to its limit, but I ignore the pain. I continue to pull with strength I never knew I had as the beast draws nearer. My skin starts to tear from my forearm and I am flooded with a sick sense of relief. The stinging is torturous. I can’t stop though. If I do, I am going to die. And I don’t want to die, not like this. I will die fighting.
With a sickening rip, my skin breaks free of the sticky web.
My forearm is raw and bleeding when I feel the first of the beast’s legs begin to make their way up my body. With a shaking hand coated in my own blood, I reach for the dagger I keep sheathed at my thigh and wield it just as the beast’s face is at my chest. I thrust the tip of my blade upward and lodge it deep into the lower section of its torso and twist. I cry out the primitive cry of a warrior and it screeches as well. Warmth gushes over my hand. I look down and see bright-yellow goo pouring over it. I withdraw my dagger and stab the creature in one of its golden eyes. It howls out again, and the points of its fangs begin to lengthen. If they appear fully, I will not survive the speed and deadliness of a strike.
My body is slick with sweat and I am panting and crying at the same time, gore and the pus-like substance covering me. It is lowering its mouth closer and closer to my face. With every inch of space that is closed, my mind centers on thoughts of June, sweet, innocent June who will die because of me. I pull the blade from its eye and, with no room left to shove it, I am trapped, waiting to have my throat pierced by the razor-sharp incisors suspended just above my jugular.
“I’m sorry, June,” I sob as the creature drops against me.
“Oh, oh my gosh,” I am gasping and wheezing as the beast collapses so close to me its blade-like teeth nick my shoulder.
I laugh and cry and feel a spurt of warmth saturate my torso. I have killed it.
Covered in sludgy gook and with the creature on top of me, I use my dagger to slice the web that my upper body rests against. The spongy mesh immediately gives way and I begin to plummet. But before I plunge to the ground with the creature on my chest, a crushing death for sure, the sticky network of threads clings to my legs and the massive beast rolls from my chest and tumbles to the ground below. I am left suspended upside down, knowing that I must cut my legs free, that I will drop on my head. I curl my aching body forward and slash at the web to free the rest of me. I go down hard and hit a branch before my head and upper body takes the brunt of my fall. My neck and back complain. A patch of my skin has been torn from my body and my entire body feels banged up. I also smell fouler than anything I have ever smelled. But those are the least of my problems. The pinkish-orange glow of the setting sun surrendering to twilight is. I am far from home, off any path I have ever traveled to make it to the lake, and darkness is almost here.
I scramble to my feet and race for my sword before taking off in a full sprint toward the cave, toward June. I race against my battered body. I race against time itself. I hope against hope that I win. My life and June’s life depends on it.
Chapter 11
The muscles in my legs ache as I challenge them and clamber up the steep embankment I fell down earlier. I must push off with my toes while I use my hands to stabilize myself, digging into the loose earth with both. I am hungry and thirsty and drained of all strength, but I cannot stay where I am. I cannot let myself die. I need to get to June.
I move as quickly as I can and make it up the ridge. I do not slow as I glance quickly from one direction to the next. I must assess my position fast. Time is running out. I am uncertain of my exact location and am forced to choose without true consideration. I cannot survey the area and find my tracks to follow back. I think of my father and wish he were with me. His face flashes in my mind’s eye along with June’s as I turn and race in the direction I hope is a familiar one, the one that leads back to the cave.
Day is surrendering to dusk, and the sky is a pale shade of violet. It is a lovely color I have never seen before, and never want to see again, not alone in the middle of the woods as I am now.
I pump my arms as I run. Wind rushes in my face and is the only relief I feel. There is not a part of me that does not hurt. My heart is beating so fast I hear it echoing in my ears. Branches slash my arms and legs, and vines tug at my feet as I run for my life. A stitch stings my ribs and demands that I slow, but slowing is not an option. I continue, my feet pacing my heart.
I pass a clustering of poisonous berry bushes and feel confident I have seen them before, on my hike to the lake. The sight is welcome. It means I am heading in the right direction. Time still remains a problem though. The last rays of sunlight bleed around the horizon line as it is devoured by the landscape. As the sky deepens in color, the likelihood of me being swarmed by a pack of hungry Lurkers increases with it.
Panic has me in its grips. Trees reach with darkened, skeletal arms. I cannot tell which limbs belong to trees and which belong to something else entirely. I have slowed. So much time has passed, too much time.
I am getting close to home. I am approaching the small clearing at the outskirts of our cave. I try to run faster. Home is so close I can almost smell the mossy, piney scent that hangs heavily just outside the opening of the cave, the same scent I breathe in every morning. I want to breathe it again. I want to survive this night and many after it. I don’t want to die.
I am only several hundred paces away from the cave when I see the first Lurker make its appearance. My pulse races frenziedly before spluttering to a near halt and plunging to my feet. It slinks from behind a spruce tree. I see its eyes first; it’s deadly, closely set eyes. They are an eerie, iridescent color that glows against the darkening sky. It sees me, I am sure. I feel its lethal gaze trained on me, burning into my flesh. I do not know what to do. Lurkers hunt in large packs. My father told me that long ago they were called wolves, and they used to walk on all fours, and that their bodies had been shaped differently. Now they walk on two legs. And they are never alone. Their bodies look human in form, only with more muscles than I have ever seen a human have.
As I watch the Lurker, I realize I have slowed. Its glittering eyes are mesmeric, and also the reason it cannot hunt during daylight hours. They cannot handle bright light. I tear my gaze from it, terrified that it may strike suddenly, and look ahead. I see the cave. June is standing outside of it. She is looking at me. Thankfully, she is smart enough to be silent, to not call out to me. She knows they would descend on her if she were to do that.
I turn and run in the direction I just came from. I know it could be suicide, that if the half-formed plot I’ve hatched fails, I will be offering myself up to them readily. But I need to try. I need to do something to try to save us both. I slide under a bush and hold my breath, waiting, watching for the approach of Lurkers.
Lurkers are not bright animals by any means. They are incapable of speaking and higher cognitive functioning. The only thing that motivates them is hunger, constant and insatiable hunger. My father once said that their brains had not evolved at the same rate as their bodies. They are more cunning than Urhmen, but their intelligence does not compare to that of a human, or even an Urthmen. I hope what my father has told me is accurate, that I am not just a meal beneath a bush waiting to be feasted on.
When I see ten sets of feet shuffle past me, my spirit is buoyed slightly. They have followed the trail they thought I took. But they will not follow it for long. I keep this in mind as I slide from the bush and dart toward the cave.
I do not need to look back to know that they have turned back and are now behind me. I hear the swish of grass and brush beneath their feet as they lope after me with animal grace. Trees and bushes stir and I know more are joining in the hunt.
In the distance, I hear a sound, a low rolling that echoes through the trees. Faint at fi
rst, it grows louder fast, and more distinct. Like innumerable hooves beating the earth beneath it, the noise thrums through me in time with my heartbeat, a pounding that sounds as though hundreds of boarts are racing toward me. I would welcome a herd of angry boarts over the bloodthirsty packs of Lurkers determined to tear me limb from limb.
I am afraid to turn and look behind me. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. I see June.
June is within my reach. I get to her in time to watch her eyes widen in terror before she dives inside the cave. I am squeezing through the narrow opening when I look up. My breath catches in my chest as I see them. Dozens of menacing shapes are visible, dozens of eyes glowing hungrily. Manes of golden hair that match the paleness of their gleaming eyes billow in the breeze, and impressive paw-like feet with long, lethal talons tear at the ground with each stride they take, rushing toward the cave. They are monstrous, hideous beasts. And they are racing toward us.
I shove myself through the tight opening.
“Help me! Hurry up! Help me roll it now!” I bark orders at June.
She is as still as a stone for a brief moment.
“June!” I shriek.
Her body jars into action, and she springs to her feet and begins pushing the boulder into place.
The beasts are so close I can see saliva dangling from their sizable jaws as I push the boulder with every last drop of strength I have. Terror rockets through me, jolting my system as if lightning has passed through my veins. The thunderous clatter of the Lurkers’ approach grows deafening. They emit spine-tingling howls. The sight and sound of them is a nightmarish vision.
“Come on! Come on!” I cry as I clumsily wedge the first of several logs around the boulder. My hands shake violently, and my legs feel as if they are made of sponge.
Though the sloped edges of the base of the logs are wedged beneath the boulder and the tops are flush against the wall of the cave, I feel faint resistance on the other side of the rock.
“Oh my gosh,” June begins sobbing.
“No, no, no!” I exclaim. I use both feet and every ounce of will to live to hold the boulder still, to prevent the monsters from moving it before all the logs are in place. My back is pressed against the rough stone, straining. “June! Get the last wedged in now!” My voice is shrill and foreign to my own ears.
June does as she’s told. The last log is fixed in place. I am reluctant to drop my legs. They tremble from nerves and effort.
The howling outside gives way to throaty hissing that curdles the blood inside me. The Lurkers are just outside the cave. One is attempting to push the boulder, trying to get inside.
My mind spirals in a thousand different directions. I do not know what to do. I know the opening of our cave is only big enough for one Lurker at a time so they can’t all push at once. The logs wedged in place would be impossible to break. Still, I do not feel comforted by our defense, but there is nothing more I can do. I lower my knees and bring them to my chest. I collapse to the floor of the cave and take my head in my hands. The fate of my sister and me rests with stars I’ve never seen.
I feel every emotion I did not have the luxury of releasing well inside me, rising like floodwaters. The first tear that rains begins a deluge that cascade down my cheeks. I cannot remember the last time I cried in front of June. For once, I do not try to hide it. I do not feel weakened or embarrassed by my tears. I simply let them fall. My chest heaves and makes my whole body throb, but I do not deny myself this release. I glance at June. She is undoubtedly stunned by everything she has seen and is seeing. I do not blame her. I am pretty shocked myself. I realize my appearance is likely contributing to her fright. A quick look at my hands reveals they are caked in filth of every sort. Dirt, blood, and the eight-legged monster’s sludgy gore are caked all over me from the neck down. My cheeks have likely been sliced by more branches and thorny limbs than I want to know about. I am a bloody fright, a fact that is not lost on June.
“Avery, what happened to you?” Her voice trembles, but at least she isn’t sobbing as I am. I wonder whether she is in shock.
I tell her what happened, about Will and his family, about the mother boart chasing me, about falling down the steep hill, about landing in the web, and about the eight-legged beast. I tell her everything in as much detail as I can remember. The days of withholding information are over.
Several times throughout my recollection, her hands cover her mouth and she gasps. The sounds are muffled, though. The yelping and hissing beyond our cave continues and drowns her out. We both keep looking to the boulder, half expecting Lurkers to burst through at any moment. I am trembling uncontrollably. The day’s events have crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave and are pulling me down, sinking me.
When I finish recounting my day, when every last word has been choked out, I see that June is crying softly. She looks more frightened than ever before. Still, she is holding up better than I am.
“Those cuts and bruises look painful,” June says gently. I am surprised by how composed she sounds.
“They are,” I mumble through sniffles.
June stands and slowly walks to the far corner of the cave. She moves several bags and retrieves a backpack. She brings the pack over to me, then sits and begins rifling through it. She pulls out gauze pads, bandages and a tube.
“Let’s get you fixed up,” she says and begins using the supplies my father risked his life to take from the village we used to live in.
He returned multiple times after the settlement had been sacked by Urthmen. He made dangerous trip after dangerous trip to stockpile as much medical supplies and clothing as he could. I am thankful that he did. They come in handy as June squeezes ointment from a tube directly onto the raw flesh of the skinless patch on my forearm.
I wince when the salve touches it.
“Sorry, Avery, I know it hurts,” June says soothingly. Her hands shake as the baying beyond the boulder is accompanied by frenzied snarling and scraping. The sound chills me to my bones. “I don’t know if this stuff is any good,” she continues, her voice is as unsteady as her hands. “But I remember Dad saying it prevents infections.”
“I remember him saying that too,” I say and watch as she dresses my arm.
When it is wrapped, she looks up at me and says, “What are we going to do, Avery?”
I take a deep breath. I cannot imagine doing anything at present. Not with packs of bloodthirsty Lurkers howling just beyond our home. But I know I must plan for the future. I must think about tomorrow. The sun will rise again and drive the beasts back to their lairs.
“Tomorrow morning, we are going back to the lake to speak with Kate, Asher, and Will. We will see if they have realized that they are not safe and hopefully they will come back with us.”
“We? Us?” June picks up that I have included her in my plan to visit the lake.
“Yes, June,” I say and look directly into her eyes. “I will never leave you here alone again.”
“Are you serious?” June asks. Tears spill from her eyes.
“Yes,” I reply. “I see now that it’s even more dangerous to leave you by yourself. I’ve been wrong all along, thinking I’ve been protecting you from what is out there.” I am barely able to get the words out. My throat is thick and tight. “I’ve left you alone and scared,” I say, and wipe my eyes, but it is useless to try to clear the steady stream of tears flowing. I don’t know why I bother. I guess old habits are hard to break. Keeping my true feelings from June is another major mistake I have made along the way. Maybe she needs to see me for who I really am. Maybe she needs to see my tears, hear of my worries and fears.
“I am so sorry, June,” I say. A fresh set of sobs rack my body. I am sorry for leaving you here, scared and alone. I am sorry I tried to keep everything from you.” I swallow hard.
“No, Avery,” June says. “Don’t you dare be sorry for doing what you thought was right. You were trying to protect me.” She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes. The hug, t
hough physically painful, is the best feeling in the world. We hold each other for several moments. When June drops her arms, I allow mine to fall too.
The Lurkers continue their loud wailing. The sound claws at my insides like sharpened blades. The threat of violence quivering through the air is simply too much for me to handle.
“We’re safe, right?” June asks. Her eyes are wide and pleading.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I don’t know if we are safe here anymore.”
I watch as June wrings her hands in front of her. “I know,” she whispers.
“The Lurkers know we’re in here now. They know where we are. And they will come back. They crave our flesh and blood.” Dread, unlike any I have ever experienced slithers down my spine. “Their hunger is what motivates them. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out a way to get in.”
Speaking the unabashed truth is harder than I thought it would be. June cries and my gut twists. Seeing her hurt and fearful and knowing I am responsible is difficult. The reality of our circumstances, the gravity of our situation, is harsh. I know now that she needs to be aware of it. I draw her into my arms and hold her tight.
“We may need to find a new place to live,” I murmur into her hair. This makes her sob harder, but she needs to know. She needs to be prepared to make a change. She has lived in our cave for most of her life. A move would be a tremendous upheaval. But if it means our lives will be saved, she will have no other choice than to learn to accept it. “Maybe we will find a place with Will and his family,” I say and stroke her hair.
“But where would we go?” June asks. “Where is safe?”
“I don’t know, June,” I reply. I wish I had an answer. I wish I knew of a place free of Urthmen and Lurkers and eight-legged fiends. I can’t even imagine such a place. It is the stuff of daydreams, of whimsy. My father told me that once upon a time, the Earth was a place where dreams could come true, where monsters did not roam and Urthmen did not exist, where safety, food, and shelter were things most people took for granted. I cannot envision the world as he said it was. But I would do just about anything to travel back in time, to see June safe and free.
Planet Urth Page 10
