Planet Urth: The Fate of Urth (Book 5)

by Jennifer Martucci

  “June! Avery!” Sully’s voice sends a wave of warmth through my otherwise frozen body, and I’m thankful I didn’t give in to my fear seconds earlier. He wraps his arms around me to grip the thick tree branch. “You’re okay.”

  I hear the relief in his tone and share in the sentiment. Feeling him close to me, knowing he’s alive and safe for the moment, battles back the guilt plaguing me after seeing Jake’s lifeless body float by.

  We continue to be carried for what feels like eternity until finally, the current begins to slow. We are afforded a better view of our surroundings. The rest of the people in our group pass us. All alive and all struggling less to stay afloat, they appear to be okay for the time being.

  “Since the water has slowed, we need to get to the shore,” Sully says.

  I scan the land that lines the river. Hostile looking trees and vines bend and twist, their dense forms merging and concealing any number of predators. We are at risk. Regardless of whether we stay in the water or swim to shore. I only hope the predators that drove us to plummet from the cliff have not made their way here yet.

  Gazing skyward, a setting sun peeks from gauzy veils and casts meager light. But the clouds move quickly. If they clear, we could use more light, regardless of how flimsy it is. My eyes return to the interwoven limbs and creepers, searching for sinister shapes, for any sign of a threat. When none is visible, I’m only partly reassured.

  I feel the tug at my leg dissipate and the swirling waters around me calm to a gentle roll. I turn and look at Sully. The outline of his strong jaw and the press of his eyes upon me causes my breathing to hitch despite the dire nature of our circumstances. I want nothing more than to lean into him, to have him wrap his arms around me and envelop me in a cocoon of love and warmth, but the possibility for such a luxury doesn’t exist at the moment. Still, I lean forward, my forehead meeting his and we pause for just a few beats before he says, “We have to swim to the shore.”

  “I know,” I say then reluctantly straighten.

  Sully peers around me. “Hey, June bug,” he refers to my sister by a name he hasn’t called her in quite some time. Hearing it makes my heartbeat stutter for a spell, the days of her being a child feeling too distant. “Think you can make it? Think you can swim, or do you need help.”

  Tipping her chin she says, “Yeah, I can make it. I’ll be fine.” What could easily be misinterpreted as defiance spikes her tone. Of course, I know she isn’t being defiant, not to Sully or me, at least. She seeks to defy what her body is undoubtedly telling her, that she can’t make the swim. She has a fighting spirit. A spirit I admire and see as kindred to my own.

  Releasing the long, thick branch, I push myself forward and begin reaching and pulling water away from me as I flutter my legs. In my periphery I see that Sully and June follow. They’re swimming as well and will arrive with me.

  Though the flow of water has all but ceased, I still struggle against the waning current. My muscles are spent and my body feels as if it’s been beaten with stones, but I force myself to keep going, to swim until I reach pebbly land. As soon as my feet stand on solid ground, my knees threaten to give way from beneath me—both from exhaustion and from appreciation. The earth is still but I feel as if I’m still moving, the perpetual motion of the water still fresh in my mind. I survey the water and catch a glimpse of several people. Waving my arms overhead, I call out, “Over here!” Those whom I gestured to and called to immediately perk at the sound of my voice and begin making their way toward us. I watch as they approach, dividing my attention between Sully, who’s just made it to the shore, and June, and the rest of our group.

  I’m about to express to Sully how sorry I am that we lost Jake and how responsible I feel for his death when Lou yelps then is sucked beneath the surface.

  Panicking, I worry he’s snagged a pant leg on a sharp rock or hit his head on an unseen object in the water. He resurfaces fleetingly, his arms flailing and a terrified expression on his face, then is yanked back down, silvery bubbles the only proof he was once there. “Lou!” I shout.

  Sully stares toward the sunken shape. Bloody rays from the setting sun creep across the water and reveals a crimson swath that bleeds out in ribbons. Lou’s body is nowhere in sight. “No!” my heart sets off at a gallop. Unsure of what exactly I’ve just witnessed, dread shrieks through my being. What on earth just happened to Lou? And the blood, so much blood, what caused that? “Hurry up! Everyone, out of the water as fast as you can!” I scream to the remaining people in the water. They don’t know what happened, didn’t see what I saw. They continue to make their way toward me at an unhurried pace.

  Warning explodes through my body like the blast of a shotgun. “Sully, did you see that? Did you see Pete go down then blood take his place?”

  “I saw it. If I’d have blinked I would’ve missed it, but I saw it.” His voice has a hollow, disbelieving tone to it. It mirrors how I feel: shocked, horrified, and certain that those who remain in the river will suffer the same fate if they don’t move fast. Jaw set determinedly and brow furrowed, he concentrates on the spot where Lou disappeared.

  Oliver staggers ashore, a fact that, admittedly, I’m grateful for. “That river, the drop—all of it—was intense.” His arms and legs tremble visibly, and of course, intense is a gross understatement with regard to what we all endured, but I do not dare make mention of my opinion. He reads my face and his brows snap together. “What? What is it, Avery?”

  Looking past him, my eyes are fixed on Joe. He’s maybe only a hundred feet from the shallowest point of the water, right at the edge of the shore, when suddenly he cries out and falls face-first to the pebbly waters.

  Not hesitating, I rush to him. I grip one of his hands and pull him toward me. Sully is beside me within the space of a breath and clings to his other hand. Both of us pull, but there is resistance, as if something else is tugging back. “C’mon! C’mon!” I yell.

  “Just hold on, Joe!” Sully shouts as both of us lean back, offering our combined strength.

  The opposing force, unseen and incredibly powerful, continues, causing us to lurch forward before we regain our footing. There’s a brief struggle then we tumble backward, still holding onto Joe’s hands.

  “Joe, you’re okay,” I start, but as soon as my eyes travel the length of his body, I begin screaming.

  Shredded flesh and gore dangles from the space just below his navel, his body severed in half at the torso. His eyes are wide and his mouth open on a silent scream, but life has escaped him.

  Releasing his hand and scrambling backward, my voice is shrill and foreign to my own ears. Blood coats my legs and feet, and I swear the metallic scent of it, fresh and heady, coats my tongue as well. I suppress a gag and crawl away just in time to see Arnost and Brom making their way onto dry land. I do not have a chance to greet them or explain what’s happened, however, for Oliver calls out, “Lark!” the alarm in his tone snaps my attention to the water once again. I look on as she is pulled under. Oliver races back into the river and rushes toward her. Sully and I wade out into the water to follow. Oliver closes the distance between him and Lark quickly.

  The water swells briefly and I expect to see Lark. What I see, however, is not female. And it isn’t human either. A large, triangular head rears, breaking the surface of the water. It’s marked by elliptical pupils that glow with deadly iridescence, while two small dots, pulsing as if they are flared nostrils, sit above its wide, deadly mouth. Slowly, its jaw unhinges, revealing fangs, as long and sharp as any blade I’ve ever seen, that drip a thick, opalescent substance. “Oh my gosh,” I freeze where I am and barely breathe the words. The serpentine head before me rivals that of a horse in size, oversized and hideous. It dips back into the water out of sight for a second and its thick body arcs and rises. Bands of pale tan and dark brown alternate along it and slip sinuously into the water despite being more massive than my mind can comprehend. Attached to it with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around it, Lark appears, se
nding my brain into a tailspin unlike any other. She wheezes and splutters then is submerged again, the gargantuan snake writhing to shake her loose. She’s out of reach of its deadly mouth and fangs, but if it continues to thrash as it is, it won’t be long before she drowns, or is thrown then retrieved as an evening meal.

  Oliver, sharing my worry, reaches her and doesn’t waste a moment. He unsheathes a blade at his hip and begins stabbing at any visible portion of the serpent’s body. Rust colored spots appear and weep thick blood and an unearthly din bursts forth from beneath the water. It grows louder and louder until the head of the snake emerges, its mouth wide and an earsplitting sound pouring from it. It twists so that it levels a deadly gaze Oliver’s way, its eyes narrowing to slashes as he becomes its intended target. Oliver raises his arm to slash at the serpent’s head and an arrow whizzes past him, lodging into its temple. The beast screeches in agony and bucks, arching its body and snapping it straight. Turning, I find June kneeling at the shore, clutching her bow with one had while the other retrieves another arrow from her quiver. Before I turn to face the serpent again, I hear the whistle of another arrow launching through the air. It strikes it in the head again, before a third arrow is embedded in its right eye. Screeching and thrashing wildly, the snake lunges for Oliver, opening its jaw wide as if to swallow him whole. Unflinching, Oliver thrusts his blade into its mouth, his arms no longer visible from his elbows down. The serpent slams its body back and forth, pounding Lark left and right until finally, it sinks beneath the surface, with her. Sully and I make it to the spot where Oliver has it impaled and we both hack at any portion that’s visible. We stab into tough, scaly flesh then retrieve our blades, only to repeat the process again and again. Feral grunts and huffs fill the space around us until the serpent is eventually still. Its body goes limp and rolls to one side, floating in a section of water stained ruby red. Lark, having freed herself from the beast, rushes to Oliver and throws her arms around his neck. He remains stiff, save for the ragged pants that cause his chest to heave before he relaxes, melding into her form.

  Sully wraps an arm around my waist and draws me close. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “No, I don’t think I am,” I answer honestly as the image of Joe’s torso, devoid of the lower half of his body, flashes in through my memory in striking clarity. I fear I will see it each time I blink.

  Sully pulls me into him so that my cheek rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart frees the emotions I’ve kept at bay since we unearthed the massacre at Galway. Hot tears burn down my cheeks. “It’s okay, Avery, let it all go. Let it out.” He rubs my back in long, slow circles.

  Wishing I could stay exactly as I am and sob like a child, I contemplate his suggestion. But the fact that bloodthirsty creatures that resemble mutant Urthmen pursue us, and that gargantuan serpents roam the river, means staying as we are is not an option.

  “Come on,” I say as I wipe the space below my eyes with my fingertips. “It’s not safe here.”

  He gently strokes my cheek with one hand then nods.

  Together, we hurry to the shore once again.

  With each step I take, I consider the casualty count. The losses are heavy. Not just those from Galway, either. Three more of our group are gone. And now, I’m charged with the task of getting us back to Cassowary before we all die.

  Chapter 8

  Standing on shaky legs and slightly out of breath from exertion, my feet are on pebbly ground. I take several deep breaths and scan the faces of those around me. Several are bent at the waist, hands resting on their knees as they pant. Their expressions are a mixture of worn out and traumatized.

  Sully’s warm hand touches my shoulder. I turn to look at him. “Look at them. Look at all of us.” His tone is sad and somber.

  “I still can’t believe what happened at Galway.” The images of those slain are still fresh in my mind. Arms and legs torn from the bodies of men, women, and children, all of them friends of ours, friends of mine.

  “What the heck were those things?” he asks the question but I know he doesn’t expect an answer from me. He knows I have as much information at this point as he does. “They look like Urthmen but different. And the fact that they eat people.” He shudders visibly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “None of this makes sense.” I lift my shoulders and bend my arms at the elbow. “The mutant creatures, the massacre at Galway, how have these things existed without us knowing?” I let my question hang in the air between us. “We have scouts—and good ones at that! How have they existed below our radar?”

  Sully shakes his head. “I know. And it’s not like there’s one or two of them, or a small pack that slipped past us. There are thousands of them, enough to overtake a city.”

  “They also lost a lot of their kind at Galway,” I add, nearly spitting the words “their kind.”

  “Yet they still have plenty to spare. Plenty to send after us.” Pressing his lips to a hard line, Sully balls his right hand into a fist and pounds his left palm. “Dammit! How could this happen?”

  With my eyes cast downward, as if the rock-strewn ground could offer an answer, I shrug. “We let it happen.”

  Sully’s head whips in my direction, his chestnut-hued irises ablaze with anger. “How could you say that? We didn’t allow this to happen!”

  Raising my hands to chest height with my palms facing him, I say, “Calm down, I’m not saying we invited them or wanted this to happen. Nothing like that at all, in fact. All I’m saying is that by not knowing of their existence, we weren’t prepared for them. We inadvertently let it happen.”

  He parts his lips and inhales sharply, as if to retort or argue my point, but then promptly snaps them shut. A small part of him knows I’m right. It’s our job to know who our opponents are, to know who or what’s hunting us. Creatures such as the giant serpent may surprise us, but where the forest is concerned, the list of wild and ferocious predators is ever-growing and ever-changing. Lurkers are just the tip of the iceberg.

  Softening my tone, I reach out and touch his forearm, “Look, please don’t think I’m really blaming our scouts—anyone for that matter. I’m just at a complete loss.”

  My hand starts to slide from his arm. He catches it, covering it with his own. “I know. And I get what you mean. We need to know what’s out there. We’ve had a few years of calm and now this.” He splays one arm toward the water.

  “We got comfortable.” I follow the trajectory of his arm and picture the fiends lining the edge of the cliff. I can feel the weight of their hunger, of their murderous intent. A reflexive shiver travels the length of my spine.

  “I guess we did,” he admits. “Never again.” His two words are a solemn vow I’ve already made. Never again will I allow myself to become complacent, to ignore or even consider that the world in which we live is anything but dangerous. “Now what?” He looks to the heavens. The sun hangs low in the sky, bowing close to the horizon, day fully prepared to surrender to night. And at night, unspeakable horrors wait at every turn. Chief among them, Lurkers.

  “It’ll be dark soon,” I whisper.

  “I know.” He looks away and nods to Arnost who gestures for us to join him where he stands, arms folded across his broad chest.

  “Go,” I tell him. “I’ll be over in a second. I need a second to collect myself.” I close my eyes and shake my head just a fraction of an inch, as if doing so will clear the horrific images from my memory. How I wish I possessed that capability, but I don’t.

  “I’ll stay with you then.” Concern causes his brows to gather. He cups my elbow with one hand. “This has been such a terrible, terrible afternoon.” He’s seen what I’ve seen. We’ve witnessed butchery, monsters doing what they do best.

  Inhaling a trembling breath, I stand on tiptoes and place a kiss on his cheek. “Go. See what Arnost wants and I’ll be along in just a minute. Don’t worry about me.”

  Pulling his head back enough so that he can see my face clearly, he sear
ches my eyes.

  “Really, I’m serious. Go. We don’t have time to go back and forth here. The sun will set soon,” I remind him.

  Reluctantly, he nods. “Okay, but don’t be long. I don’t want you far from me ever. I want you close so I can protect you.” Wrapping both arms around my waist he scoops me up and pulls my body flush against his. He dips his head and presses his lips to mine. When he pulls away, he holds my gaze. In a voice thickened by emotion, he says, “I love you.”

  Warmth swirls in my chest and travels to my belly where it feels as if thousands of butterflies are fluttering about. “I love you, too.”

  We hold each other for several seconds, the hostile world in which we exist fading ever so slightly, until Arnost’s booming voice distracts us.

  “Go,” I say again and lessen my hold on him.

  “Fine,” he says and frowns, pouting.

  I smile, though it physically hurts when he releases me, and watch as he walks away. Once he stands beside Arnost, I close my eyes for a brief moment and pinch the bridge of my nose. Pain in my skull hammers away at my sinuses and creeps up the back of my neck. When I open them, my attention is diverted away from Sully and settles on Oliver and Lark.

  Not more than a dozen feet from me, Lark sits on a moss covered log and Oliver kneels before her. Her head is bowed, long, honey brown bangs veiling one eye. When she lifts her gaze, unshed tears shine in it. “Why did you do it?” she asks in a trembling tone.

  “Do what?” Oliver asks, his voice pitching up just a bit.

  Lark’s head snaps up, her brow gathered. She seeks a truth from his eyes. “You saved me.”

  Oliver bobs his shoulders modestly. “I did what anyone would do.”