My movements, though brutal, are necessary. I do not regret them any more than I regret breathing or eating. They are fluid and natural. They are what I have trained for my whole life. But despite my training, I realize that the ease with which I can kill and the swiftness of my reflexes are special skills. I understand why my father had always been so shocked by my abilities, why he praised what he called my ‘gift.’ I always thought he was just complimenting me to get me to train harder. I know now that he was simply sharing his thoughts about what he saw. Fighting is instinctive to me. It feels as if it is what I was born to do, that ridding the world of the hideous Urthmen is my purpose.
A flurry of movement in my periphery jerks my attention from the Urthmen I have killed to Will. He is battling two that stormed him. I contemplate helping him, but I am intercepted by my own set of Urthmen. They both attack simultaneously. I sidestep the first club but can’t avoid the second. A club catches me squarely in the arm. I cry out and evade a swipe intended for my head. I twist and cut through air and slice open the arm of the Urthman that hit me then immediately sink my sword into the other’s heart. But as I am retrieving my sword, a shadow crowds from behind. My short life flickers before my eyes in quick, disjointed flashes. And in a fraction of a second, I know I am about to meet my end, that it is too late for me to react. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for the blow of a club to strike my head but snap them open when I hear a scream, the scream of a young boy. I spin and instead of having my skull cracked open, I see a spear tip protruding from the Urthman’s chest, my spear tip.
The Urthman falls, revealing Oliver standing there. He is shaking and his breathing is short and shallow. He pulled my spear from the Urthman I killed, the one that was about to butcher him and Riley, and used it to save my life.
“Thanks,” I say to Oliver. His eyes are wide and his mouth is partially agape as he looks over my shoulder.
I turn and see that Will has taken down one of the Urthmen he was fighting and struggles with the other on the ground. My eyes travel and zero in on what has caused Oliver’s look of horror.
“No!” I scream. Kate is on the ground, and an Urthman swings his club overhead. He drops it against her head, pounding her skull again and again. “No! Kate!” I hear myself screaming, but my voice sounds as if it is echoing from the end of a long tunnel.
Oliver is crying and mumbling words that, while not entirely intelligible, are familiar. I am sure I have muttered them before because I have lived through what Oliver has just witnessed. I want to hug him, but there isn’t time. Asher has just killed one, but two more Urthmen are just about on him. I take off at a sprint to help.
“Hey! Over here!” I shout to distract at least one of the Urthmen, but they do not look up at me. Their gazes are fixed on Asher. One wields the knife Kate used earlier in addition to his club while the other circles around, behind Asher. I just about reach them when the Urthmen strike instantaneously. One grabs Asher from behind while the other drives the dagger into the center of his chest. Asher falls to his knees, an expanding circle of garnet staining his shirt.
“No!” Will screams. His voice tears through my veins and echoes through my soul. He attacks the Urthman he was fighting against with reckless ferocity, ignoring the possibility of being hit himself, and boldly steps forward, swinging the club ceaselessly. The club smashes the Urthman over and over until he collapses to the ground in a pulpy heap. Will does not stop though. He charges toward the two that just killed his parents. I meet him there and fight beside him to avenge his parents’ deaths inasmuch as any death can truly be avenged.
Will’s eyes are wild and his pulse darts at the base of his throat. I feel his fury. I feel his anger and sorrow, the anguish coursing through his body like lifeblood. I remember it. I know it well. It is a dark and ever-present companion of mine. I let it fuel me and drive my sword as I carve the air horizontally and behead the putrid Urthman nearest. Will waves the club expertly and bashes one of the last two remaining until he is reduced to a bundle of unrecognizable features. But while Will vents some of his overwhelming suffering on the fallen Urthmen, another reaches him before I do and hits him in the back. Will tumbles forward, but before the Urthman who raided him from behind can strike again, I drive my blade through him. The Urthman falls to the ground. I have killed the last of them that stormed the family at the lake, but I do not feel satisfaction of any kind that they are all dead. Will parents were lost. There is nothing to celebrate.
Will staggers to his parents’ bodies and drops to his knees. For the first time in many years, I hear another human being’s heart cry out. Through sobs, Will says over and over, “Mom, Dad, no, please no.”
My breathing snags several times before I begin to cry too. I know I do not have the right to cry, but I am powerless to stop the tears from falling.
Riley and Oliver join Will. Their small bodies shudder as they weep. No one should have to see what they just saw. No one should have to live through what they just lived through. Through my tears, I silently vow that if I ever find another family, I will do anything and everything in my power to preserve it. The core of humanity is family. Whether they are people we are born to or people we embrace along the way, family is the crux of human life. And I will defend it with every last drop of blood that pumps through my body.
Armed with my newfound resolve, I turn and allow Will, Oliver, and Riley time to grieve. I set about checking each fallen Urthman for any signs of life. I plunge my sword in all of them for good measure. I will not take any chances.
When I have completed my task, I call to June.
But June does not reply.
“June,” I try again a bit louder.
But still, she does not reply. I do not hear her shuffle or see the woods stir. I do not hear a sound, apart from the soft whimpers coming from Will and his surviving family.
Panic sets in.
I race toward the bush June was stashed beneath, and when I get there, my insides crystallize.
An Urthman has a handful of June’s hair, and he’s pressing the tip of my spear just below her ear at her throat. Will runs up beside me.
“Drop your weapons, or I will kill her,” the Urthman orders.
“Please,” I begin to beg. “She’s just a child.”
“I said drop your weapons, humans!” the Urthman shouts.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that he will kill her regardless of whether I drop my weapon or not. He will kill us all if given the chance. June will die no matter what. I must do something. I will not let the Urthman kill her.
My mind scrambles for a plan.
I look off to the right of the Urthman, just past him. “What are you waiting for?” I say to no one. “Kill him! Cut his head off!”
The Urthman turns around to look behind him, and when he does, I only have seconds to act. I pull my dagger from its sheath and hurl it at him. It tumbles through the air end over end, and when he turns back to look at me, the blade lodges into his eye. He releases June and my spear and drops to his knees, shrieking.
June dives into my arms. I hug her tightly and mumble, “Urthmen are as stupid as Dad said they were.”
But June is uninterested in anything I have to say. Who can blame her? Will finishes off the Urthman and hands me my dagger just before his brother and sister rush to him. They huddle and cry. June is crying, and silent tears stream down my cheeks as well.
All of us have seen too much violence, too much death and destruction. We have been left to fend for ourselves and survive against impossible odds. But as I look around at our blended group, I feel an odd glimmer of hope spark inside of me. I don’t know when or how, but I believe for the first time in my life that we will someday overcome the carnage and cruelty we were born into.
Chapter 13
I watch as Will transforms before my eyes. I know he is grieving, that he is hurting in a way that cannot be expressed aptly. But I see the change he is undergoing. His posture straightens. He extends his
long, sculpted arms to Oliver and Riley. They rush to him, fall into him, and he envelops them. I see cords of muscle bunch and flex as he embraces them tightly. The black sleeveless shirt he wears dampens from their tears. He whisks away his own tears with the back of his hand, then turns and looks toward June and I. His light blue-green irises glow brighter than when I saw them the day before. Their color pales against the reddened whites of his eyes. His gaze locks on me and the air suddenly leaves my lungs. I don’t know why I feel this way and hope I am not falling ill. I give him a small smile and watch as the sun-kissed skin at his cheekbones deepens in color. I worry that I have embarrassed him by witnessing the raw emotions flowing between him and his siblings, or that perhaps my smile was misunderstood somehow.
I turn so that I am no longer facing Will and his brother and sister. I do not want to intrude on the very painful, emotional moment he is sharing with them. I also know that he is in the process of assuming a new role, that part of his change includes surrendering any semblance of a childhood or any shred of youth he ever held. He is in charge now. He is the person Oliver and Riley will turn to. And he knows it. He is being strong for them, comforting them, and putting on a brave face when he is sadder and more terrified than he has ever been in his life.
I just met Will, but I know him better than he thinks. I know exactly what he is doing, what he is going through. I have done and been through it myself. I wish I could make it easier for him. Losing a parent is bad enough. But watching them lose their life is quite another experience, a horrendous one that will be branded in his memory forever.
“I feel so bad for them,” June whispers to me. “What they went through, it’s just awful.”
June does not recall our mother being murdered by Urthmen while we watched. She only remembers our father’s gentle passing. She is lucky. I can close my eyes and relive it all.
I do not share that detail with her. Instead, I reply, “Me too.” Then add, “It is a terrible thing to watch your parents die,” with sadness so profound it causes my voice to falter. “We will help them though. We will take them back to our cave with us and figure out a plan. But no matter what, we will help them.” I rub June’s back softly and she leans into me. Her head whips toward Will and his siblings when Oliver’s voice rings out.
“No! I won’t calm down! Those monsters killed Mom and Dad!” Oliver nearly shouts then breaks away from Will and Riley. He races to the Urthman closest to us and kicks the corpse. “I hate you! I hate you all!” he cries. Spittle sprays from his mouth. He is sobbing and yelling at the same time. He turns and picks up a good-sized stone. He hoists it over his head.
But before he brings it crashing against the dead Urthman’s lopsided head, Will quickly covers the distance between them and circles his arms around Oliver, pinning his arms to his waist. The stone tumbles from his grip and lands on the ground by his feet.
“It’s okay, Oliver,” Will says soothingly. “Just calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”
Oliver’s lower lip begins to quiver and tears pour from his eyes. “Nothing is okay, Will,” he barely manages then turns and buries his face in Will’s midsection.
“I know, I know,” Will says and holds his brother tightly. Pain is etched in his features. Everything he is feeling is visible just below the surface of his expression. I see it plainly and resist the urge to go to him and throw my arms around him, just as he is doing with Oliver. My muscles twitch, urging me to take the first step toward him without my mind’s permission, but a gentle squeeze at my hand holds me back.
June’s small hand grips mine firmly for a moment then releases it. I wonder whether she sensed my movement and guessed what I was about to do, or whether seeing firsthand what Will is going through with his brother and sister is giving her insight into what life has been like for me. Either way I stay where I am and wait until the crying subsides before reminding everyone that we need to leave immediately. About a dozen Urthmen stormed Will’s family. I doubt they were acting alone. More will follow. I do not want to chance being ambushed out in the open as we are now.
I clear my throat. “Uh, Will, I’m sorry to, uh, interrupt, but we need to leave as soon as possible.” Will trains his aquamarine eyes on me and an odd quiver passes through my belly. “They know we’re here,” I say of the Urthmen. “There will be more. The ones at the lake might even be part of a bigger team that split up. They could be on us at any minute.”
Will’s dark brows gather. His gaze hardens. “No,” he says resolutely.
His refusal throws me almost as much as his expression.
“No?” I feel my features scrunch as they showcase my complete confusion.
“No!” he says heatedly.
Blood rushes to my face, and I am certain it is the color of a crimson rose petal. “What do you mean no?” I ask and blink back the hot, unexpected tears searing the backs of my eyelids. Does he have a sudden death wish? And why does he seem so angry with me? Each cell in my body is firing at once. I do not know what he will say next, whether he will shout at me or speak sharply to me again. I do not know why I care if he does or doesn’t, but I do.
“I am not leaving my parents here,” he says softly. He features have smoothed. He no longer looks as he did seconds earlier. He looks vulnerable.
I feel the color drain from my cheeks.
“I won’t leave them here for Urthmen to take and put their heads on spikes,” he grits through his teeth. “Or leave them here to be devoured by the creatures that come out at night.”
“The Lurkers,” I practically spit when I angrily mumble their name under my breath.
“The what?” Will shocks me by asking.
He heard me. My head feels engulfed in flames. I don’t know the technical name for the beasts that roam the woods when the sun sets. I know what they were once called. And I know what my father called them, what I still call them.
I shift uncomfortably under the weight of Will’s stare. “We call them Lurkers,” I say and nod.
“Lurkers?” Will asks, and I wait for him to mock the name, to mock me.
“Yes,” I say, and twist the hem of my shirt with my hand. I am waiting for him to tell me how idiotic the name is, how babyish and laughable it is. I brace for it when he parts his lips to speak.
“Huh, makes sense, Lurkers, and I did figure that’s what you meant when you mentioned them yesterday.” He nods. “They’re always out there in the night, lurking and waiting.”
I nod, awkward silence hangs in the air like a bank of fog.
“What do you call them?” June’s voice chimes like a bell. She has not seen or spoken to another human being besides myself and my father in her entire life, yet she has better social skills than I do. “Do you have a name for them?”
Will smiles the saddest smile I have ever seen. His eyes are focused on a distant point. “My mom and dad called them Prowlers,” he says with a hollow, cheerless chuckle.
“Sounds as if they thought like our dad used to think,” June says with respect in her voice that exceeds her eight years of life by decades.
Will’s gaze leaves its far-off focal point and lands directly on June before flickering to me. “What happened to your father?”
I am unsure of whom he has asked, but I answer anyway. “He passed last year,” I say and feel guilty for the strain in my voice, because while we did lose him, his death was a serene passing compared to the butchery Will and his brother and sister just saw.
“I’m sorry,” Will says with genuine remorse. “What about your mom, is she,” he hesitates for several beats, “alive?”
I swallow hard. I do not know how to answer his question without upsetting an already sensitive and sore situation. I stare into the distance. I take a deep breath, and then hear the words spill from me freely, gushing like blood from an open wound. “She was killed by Urthmen. She was pregnant and running with me and June in a tunnel beneath a village we used to live in with our parents and they killed her right in f
ront of us,” I say in one breath. I see it again, see the brutality in my mind’s eye as if it is happening in front of me a second time. “She begged them not to kill her, begged them, but they showed her no mercy. They did not care one bit. She was nothing to them. They killed her. June was a toddler and I was holding her. I saw it all. I saw them beat her to death.”
I have let go of June’s hand. My fists are clenched tightly at my sides, and my breathing is short and shallow. I look up and see that Will is speechless and so is June. I have never spoken of what happened the night our mother was murdered. Our father had told her what had happened, but I could never bring myself to speak of it. I have held it inside me for years, bearing the burden of an unspeakable scar alone; until now. Now was the most inappropriate time ever to suddenly feel the need to share, and I hadn’t wanted to. The words rushed from me as if of their own accord. I have had time to grieve. Will, Oliver, and Riley have not. Their parents were both just murdered right in front of them and they are reeling from loss and shock. And I had the audacity to blurt out my sad story! Perhaps it has been for the best that I haven’t met another human in some time. I wish the earth would swallow me whole, or that I could disappear, disperse like grains of sand in the wind. But I cannot do either. I am stuck, left to stew in my embarrassing outburst.
Just when I feel as if I will die of shame, Will says, “I am so sorry, Avery.”
I want to shout that I am the one who is sorry, that he does not owe me words of consolation. It is quite the opposite. I have been through what he is going through and because of that, I should have known better than to open my big mouth. I cringe and shake my head slightly. His eyes are on me, and he sees it. I know he does. He sees how mortified I am. June wraps both arms around my waist. My body is slick with sweat and she feels like a hot rock plastered against me. But I do not dare move. I will not take the lead yet.
Planet Urth Boxed Set Page 12
