Planet Urth: The Fate of Urth (Book 5)

by Jennifer Martucci

  I turn from him and search the brush, looking for any and all clues that would implicate a culprit. But my search turns up nothing. I tunnel my fingers through the front of my hair, gripping it for a split second. “How could anyone have taken the catapults from Galway and gotten them here without being seen? It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense!”

  “This is crazy!” June’s voice shivers with frustration, with a potent mix of fear and anger. She paces for a brief moment then retraces her steps, following the path we’ve carved through the woodland in search of any clues we might’ve missed. With her jaw set determinedly, her bow slung over her shoulder, and the sun awash from overhead, she resembles a warrior goddess, and a deadly one at that.

  “I can’t believe this.” Sully’s eyes stare toward the catapults but are unfocused, working to make sense of circumstances that do not have an explanation.

  Jamming my balled fists onto my hips, I scan the area around the devices. My eyes follow the path of the trajectory, ending at the boxes near the wall. I take a tentative step toward them, my senses tugged as if by an invisible force. Though a part of me feels as if I’m moving toward a potential trap, I’m powerless to turn back. I forge ahead, June and Sully’s voices ephemeral notes carried off on the wind.

  When I arrive at the first box, I use the toe of my boot to nudge a slat of broken wood. Jerking it back and recoiling as soon as it moves, I sense a weighted object within. I half expect a detonation of some sort to occur. But it doesn’t. And in the moments that realization lands against me with the force of a sledgehammer, I find myself wishing an explosion would have ensued rather than the sight that manifests before my eyes.

  Splintered wood falls aside, flattening the grass next to it, and a pair of eyes, lifeless, sightless and wide stare at me. The expression on the face I see is one of abject horror, of suffering. And it is a familiar face.

  Stabbing pain lances my heart and cold bleeds from it like lifeblood. My hand instinctively clutches the left side of my chest, my knees buckling and the contents of my stomach threatening to spew. Killian. The face that stares up at me belongs to Killian. Severed at the neck, only his head occupies the box, blood and gore staining the pale wood of the container.

  With trembling limbs, I reel and stagger backward then stumble toward the next two boxes. Kicking aside debris that blocks its contents, I reluctantly examine the broken box. Joe, a soldier from Galway, gazes at me with vacant, cloudy eyes, the skin beneath his chin jagged and frayed as if slashed with a hacksaw.

  Shaking and suppressing the strangled cries that have welled in my throat, I walk unsteadily to the final box only to find another head, one that belonged to Paul, a resident of Galway, a brave and loyal fighter.

  The forest around me begins to spin in lopsided circles. Sound rises and falls at erratic intervals. Cold and hot simultaneously, my skin feels as if magnetic fire is lapping at it, draining heat as it supplies it. Pressure builds behind my eardrums. I’m vaguely aware of a female voice screaming. Recognizing it and turning toward the sound, I see June, her beautiful features gathered in revulsion. Tears pour down her cheeks, and her pain snaps me back from the dark and desolate place I wandered to. “They’re from Galway! Riley and Oliver! What about Riley and Oliver? No! No! No!” Her words come out in a single, pressured stream.

  The veil of shock falls. The hurt and disgust I felt clears. Dread settles in my gut like a glacial stone. I fear the worst has happened in Galway, that more boxes will come, more familiar faces will follow. Though the taking of Galway would be extremely difficult, what I see before me doesn’t inspire much hope. Speculation is futile, that much I know. The only way to answer any and all of the questions in my brain is to go there, to rush to Galway. I look to Sully who stands near June. He holds his head in his hands, distraught in every sense of the word. As if sensing the press of my gaze, he lifts his chin and our eyes meet. We exchange a sober glance and know that safety as we’ve enjoyed it has come to an abrupt end.

  Chapter 3

  Wind rushes in my face as I race toward the wall once again. Dashing through the open gate, my mind is crowded, buzzing as loudly as a hornet’s nest. All I can think of is Oliver and Riley, hoping against hope that they have not met the same fate as Killian, Paul and Joe. I made a solemn vow to Will to keep his brother and sister safe, a promise I took very seriously. And now I may have failed him.

  Not slowing, I run full speed to the radio communication center, a stout gray building used exclusively for transmitting messages to and from our sister cities. Sully, just a few steps behind me and with June pacing him, does not halt his stride until he reaches the front door. Only four residents of Cassowary man the building and operate the technology housed there, two men and two women. Each of their heads snaps up and regards us with equal parts curiosity and panic.

  “Get Remi and Listowel on the line!” I blurt the words breathlessly, not meaning to be curt but not caring about manners in the least at the moment. Lives are on the line. Apologies for rude behavior can be made at another time.

  Marla, a pale woman with curly hair as dark as the night sky rears her head as if she’s been struck at first, but quickly regroups, her hands working quickly as she depresses a series of buttons on a control panel with one and retrieves a handset with the other. “I’ll get Listowel on the line right away,” she says in a tremulous voice.

  Next to her, a man named Arthur sets about doing as Marla did, his fingers dancing across raised buttons and slipping a receiver from its cradle. “I’m contacting Remi now,” he says in a steadier tone than Marla.

  Though he’s moving as fast as he can, it’s simply not fast enough. Thoughts plague me, racing quicker than my brain is capable of processing. Like bursts of light, each blazes through my mind dizzyingly. Riley and Oliver’s faces merge with the flashes, and Will’s does, too. All I can think of is the promise I made to my friend before he died. And that I may have failed at keeping that promise.

  “C’mon!” I grind my molars so hard my ears hurt. Rationally, I know I can’t speed the process of making contact with either Remi or Listowel, nor can I will the outcome to be what I want it to be, what I need it to be: that everyone’s alive and safe.

  Arthur eyes me nervously and Marla jumps, but as soon as I hear the faint sound of a voice on Arthur’s receiver, my attention is diverted to it.

  “This is Cassowary. Remi, do you copy?” Arthur asks. I rush to his side and he tilts the receiver so that I can hear the speaker.

  “Roger that, Cassowary,” the male voice on the other end responds. There isn’t the slightest trace of urgency, of distress. A tiny thread of hope weaves its way into my core.

  I roll my hand forward, gesturing for him to hand me the transponder. When he does, I don’t waste a moment and say, “This is Avery. An attack has begun. Heads of residents of Galway have been placed in boxes and catapulted against our walls, and the catapults are ours.” Eerie stillness prevails as the gravity of my words take hold.

  “Oh my gosh,” is all the voice on the other end mutters, trembling slightly. A collective gasp echoes among the four seated in the control room. “This is Ed,” he says and then adds, “I haven’t seen anything. All’s been quiet here.” A faint rustling sound ensues then his voice crackles across the line. “I can’t believe this.”

  Swallowing hard against the lump gathering in my throat, I reply, “Ed, I need you to alert the people of Remi. Get them prepared for an attack.”

  “I-I will,” Ed replies.

  I hand the receiver back to Arthur then turn to Marla expectantly. She looks at me with wide dark eyes filled with tears. “What? What is it?” I demand.

  “I have Listowel.” Marla’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper. Her hand trembles as she thrusts the transponder my way.

  My heart lurches to my throat and lodges there as I cradle it against my chin and speak. I steal a fleeting glance at Sully before I part my lips to speak. Only his profile is visible yet some
how seeing the strong planes of his chin and cheek manages to buoy my spirit. Taking a deep breath, I nod and say, “This is Avery from Cassowary.” I repeat the message I relayed to Ed and am met with the same stunned silence. The silence is followed, however, by assurances that all is well in their city, for now at least. “Ready your people for the worst-case scenario. Tell them to prepare for attack.” As the words fall from my lips, veins of panic quiver through my marrow. All that we’ve worked for, all that we’ve fought and died for as a people, could be threatened. And Oliver and Riley could be dead. Trembling, I return the receiver to Marla and spin to face Sully. “We need to get to Galway right now.”

  Molten brown eyes widen briefly. “What? No, it’s too dangerous!”

  Jabbing a hand through my hair, I rub the temple on one side with my thumb. I will not be dissuaded from going. “We don’t know what’s going on there. We’re in the dark.” I drop my hand and let it slap against my thigh. “We need answers. I need answers.”

  Sully pauses a moment, searching my face. My resolve is set in stone and I’m certain my expression represents it. Blowing out a long stream of air through pursed lips, Sully closes his eyes and says, “Fine. We’ll go. But we take an army.” His words are more of a statement than a question, one that leaves no room for argument, and one that causes every nerve ending in my body to bristle at once.

  “No! Absolutely not!”

  “We have to.” His hands fly to his hips, his stance staunch.

  “And what, leave Cassowary vulnerable? No way! If you want to bring a small group with us, fine, but bleeding Cassowary of her defense is not an option.” Now it is my tone that leaves no room for negotiation. “We assemble a small group, our fastest vehicles and get there in a half hour. If we get even the slightest whiff of enemy forces, we turn back and get everyone ready to battle,” I press on and make my final point.

  Sully’s face, his beautiful, clear face, clouds. Absent is his trademark smirk and perpetual merriment that dances in his gaze. His expression is hard. “I don’t like this, Avery,” he says, his voice low and grave.

  Allowing my tone to soften just a fraction, I say, “I know you don’t, Sully. But Oliver and Riley are there, and so are the rest of our people.” My voice cracks and I can’t continue for fear of shattering into a thousand panic-stricken pieces.

  Overhearing our conversation, June joins us. Tipping her chin in what can only be described as a defiant gesture, she says, “I’m going too.”

  Seeing her nod and hearing the boldness in her tone causes something in me to stretch so thin it threatens to snap. “Like heck you are!” I whirl on her and feel my brow dip. “You’re not going anywhere!”

  Matching the ferocity of my tone and the look on my face, June plants her hands on her hips and leans in. “Riley is my sister and Oliver is my brother! I’m going, Avery, whether you like it or not!” She yells at me for the first time ever. For a moment I am speechless, stunned to absolute silence. Though I’m not one to condone disrespect of any kind, admittedly, I admire her passion, her loyalty to her family. It reminds me of someone else I know. It reminds me of, well, me. And I know that if it were June who was at Galway and in danger, nothing in this world, no force on the planet, would be capable of keeping me from going to her. I hold her gaze for several beats. Unshed tears and regret shines in her eyes.

  “Fine, June. Come with us.” My response is flat, devoid of any judgment or accusation.

  She nods and a small smile tilts the corners of her lips upward.

  “Let’s get out to the courtyard and see if we can get some volunteers to join us,” I say before I thank Marla and Arthur and head toward the doors.

  Sully catches up with me and begins working out the logistics of our trip. “We’ll need four trucks and what, about fifteen people?”

  “Fifteen is a good number.” My mind works quickly, dividing up the people into close-to-even groups.

  “We’ll go heavily armed and reach Galway in less than thirty minutes if all goes well.”

  I nod, envisioning our convoy arriving in a city engulfed in flames and teeming with Urthmen. Rationally, I realize we’d have had some indication of a situation such as the one playing out in my frazzled brain. But rationale flew out the window like a drunken bird the moment heads of my people were catapulted against the walls of Cassowary.

  Spinning like tires in mud, my mind continues its futile cycle until we reach the center of town. Hundreds of residents have gathered, talking in small groups about what happened earlier. When they see us approach, they look to us for answers. Quickly, the group of hundreds swells, and by the time we reach the square, a sea of people awaits me. I shout over the murmurs to be heard. “Friends, as I’m sure all of you know, there’s been a development this morning.” I gulp hard and see Killian’s sightless eyes in my mind, hear his terrified, soundless scream echoing in my ears. Development is a word that hardy scratches the surface of what has happened. The people of Cassowary know it, and I know it. I continue. “Sully, June and I are taking four trucks and we’re hoping for a group of fifteen or more volunteers to join us to find out what is happening at Galway.” Chatter erupts and hands shoot into the air. “This is a very dangerous journey. Please take a moment to think long and hard about what you’re undertaking.” I level my gaze among those whose hands are high.

  Arnost steps forward. A mountain of a man with a neck thicker than my thigh, his deep voice is loud and sure. “I’m coming, Avery.”

  I nod to him gratefully.

  Behind Arnost, a tall, meaty man named Brom steps forward. With puckered skin that resembles a tanned orange peel and wild, black curls that frame it, his face is all hard lines and scars. “I’ll go,” is all he says, his voice lacking the conviction Arnost’s possessed.

  Third, a girl I know well steps forward. Not older than twenty and with long, golden-brown hair swept up into a ponytail to showcase her graceful neck, Lark is someone Oliver cared for very deeply. In fact, she is the reason he left Cassowary for Galway. I arch a brow at her and she lowers her chin to her chest. Still weighted by guilt that she rebuffed Oliver’s advances in favor of a boy who turned out to be interested in not just her but every other girl in Cassowary, Lark wears her remorse plainly.

  I thank her quietly, just as I do the other nine people who step forward and offer their services—and possibly their lives—to journey to Galway.

  Once all are gathered, four trucks are brought around. We load them with automatic rifles for each of us and sling lengths of ammunition across our bodies. June, Sully, Lark and Arnost travel in my vehicle while the others split into groups of four. When everyone is in his truck, I shout for the gates to be opened. The earth rumbles, quaking in time with my insides, and the wall splits. I gesture out the window for the three trucks to go first and as soon as they cross the threshold, Sully directs us behind them. Eric, one of my most trusted officers, stands by, watching us. His face is an unreadable mask. “Sully, hold on. Slow down.”

  Sully does as I ask and I lower my window. Eric nods in greeting. I mirror his act then twist to look behind me. Innumerable faces blur together. I fear for them, for all of us. “Ready them for war.” I allow my eyes to plead with Eric. “We could be under attack at any time.”

  Gray eyes the color of steel train on me. “Rest assured, Avery, we’ll be ready for whatever comes our way. Don’t worry.” His confidence inspires me. Still, the safety of the people of Cassowary is not something he can guarantee.

  “Good,” I say and smile tightly.

  As I raise the window and settle into my seat, Sully guides the truck beyond the gates. Scanning the landscape I’ve come to know and love and call home, I glimpse the fading image of Cassowary in the side view mirror. And when I do, a feeling pierces my heart like a finely honed needle, deflating it and my lungs along with it. I’m struck by the sensation that I will never see my city again.

  Chapter 4

  Fear etches my sister’s features, breaking my
heart in two, as we bump along the lumpy gravel road that connects Cassowary to Galway. Testing the engine of the truck, Sully drives in silence, though I swear that if I listen closely enough, I will hear his thoughts, and they will match my own.

  “Riley and Oliver are okay, you’ll see.” I say the words but even I hear that they lack conviction.

  I twist in my seat to look at June. Her silvery blue eyes lack their usual sparkle. She levels them at me, and I see cold, hard resignation lurking in their depths. “They’re dead, Avery. You know it as well as I do.” Her voice is steel wrapped in velvet, unyielding but tempered with the rawest, softest of emotion. A pang of guilt and pure sadness pierces my chest as the starkness of her words shivers down my spine. I worry there’s truth to them, worry that they portend my worst fear at this point.

  Shaking my head to ward off her statement, as well as the awful feeling that accompanies it, I try to reassure her. “Don’t say that. We don’t know anything yet.” My attempt is feeble at best. In truth, I have no comfort to offer. I feel as she feels, that hope is a dangerous undertaking.

  I right my position and venture a sidelong glance Sully’s way. Pain touches his features, a fact that makes me want to reach out to him, to console him—both of us. But there is no consolation for him, for me, for any of us. The only possibility for solace exists in finding Galway intact as it should be, and all its inhabitants safe and sound

  But that possibility of solace ends abruptly when our four-car convoy approaches our neighboring city. The view that fills my field of vision landing like a fist to my gut.

  Feeling as if my heart has stopped mid beat, I take a ragged breath and try to process the sight before me. Thousands of dead Urthmen litter the grassy area beyond the protective wall. Body upon body strewn like refuse. “Oh no. Oh my gosh,” I hear myself say in a breathy whisper, and my heart takes off, battering my ribcage at a frantic pace.