Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) (15 page)

My head whips from side
to side.  I see the final Urthman.  He has stopped and is coming toward me.  His small, black eyes bore into my skull and I recognize his horrid face as well as his clothing.  It is the male from the house Will and I were at with the children. 

My insides simmer.  I am seething.  I do not know who I am more furious with, me or him.

“They’re over here!” the male from the house screams.

I hear the shrill voices of more Urthmen.  The sound is distant and is changing direction.  Still, his bloodlust compels him.  He cannot seem to help himself.  He charges me
, swinging his club wildly.  I drop to one knee and dodge the flurry of swipes intended for my head in a single, swift, lightning-fast motion.  When I pop up to an upright position, I slash the space in front of me and open him from his waist to the middle of his chest. 

Gore spills from him.  He drops to his knees.  I look upon his wr
etched face and see every Urthman that has come before him and will come after him.  My mother’s face flashes in my mind’s eye shortly thereafter.  I let him bleed while I recover my spear.  When I return, what little color the Urthman had has seeped from him.  I spit on the pavement beside him. 

“Filthy monster!” I say.  Then I twist my blade to one side
and slice the air horizontally.  The razor-sharp edge of my sword meets with his neck.  There is a brief pull, resistance right before muscle and bone yields, and his head tumbles from his shoulders and rolls to the ground below. 

My breaths are short and shallow and my entire body trembles, but I do not have a moment to spare.  More Urt
hmen are coming.  I must go.  I take off in search of June, Will, Riley and Oliver.  I backtrack, retracing every step I took to lead the small search party after me, not the others. In the distance, I see four shapes, human shapes.  I tear after them, testing my leg muscles again.  They hear my hurried footfalls charging their way.  They all turn, and June sees me first. 

“It’s Avery!” I hear her whisper.  The joy in her tone is clear.  I wish I could hug her.  I wish I could pull her tight and tell her everything will be all right.  But we are far from all right. 

“Turn in here,” is all I say when I jog up beside them.  I guide them into an open field. 

When we are deep within
and concealed by tall grass, I say, “Down!  Everybody get down.”

Everyone drops to
his or her knees before lying flat on their bellies.  Only our heads are raised as we watch for movement on the street between the high blades.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Will whispers.

I cannot believe he has the audacity to question what we are doing, where I’ve decided to place us, when the very reason we are hiding is his fault. 

“
No!” I answer heatedly.  “I’m not sure this is good idea!”

Bitterness spikes my
words.  I did not plan to sound as hostile as I did.  But I am fuming.  The demand on my body has been great.  All of us have been taxed to our limits, and wouldn’t have been had Will let me do what needed to be done back at the house. 

June interrupts my stewing.  “Thank goodness you’re okay,” she says and gives me a meaningful look.  Her expression reminds me of one my mother used to make when she would advise me with her eyes to pay attention or knock off whatever misbehavior in which I was engaged.  I assume June is indicating the latter and would prefer it if I keep my resentment under wraps. 

“Yeah,” Will agrees.  “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“No thanks to you,” I mumble under my breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will asks with genuine shock.  This time he heard me.

“It means exactly what it means,” I snap.

“You’re mad at me?” Will asks.  He jerks his head back to punctuate his surprise.  He looks injured.  I would be bothered by how I am making him react if he didn’t almost get us killed.  We may still die.  The night is not over yet.  Urthmen are still after us.  We are, by no means, safe. 

“That’s right,” I retort.  “I am furious and you know why.”

“Uh, no, I don’t,” Will says and matches my tone.

“Guys,” June tries to interrupt our bickering.  But I hold my hand up at look at her sharply. 

I return my gaze to Will.  “Oh, so you still don’t see that we should have killed the monsters back at the house?  You don’t get that from what’s happening now, that
everything
that’s happening now is because of that?”

Will’s cheeks blaze.  He looks as if he has been slapped.  “
I don’t want to be like them,” he says and I hear the faintest crack in his voice. 

Under any other circumstances, I would hate myself for making another person feel as I’ve undoubtedly made Will feel.  But our lives are at stake.  We may all die because he stopped me from killing the three Urthmen when I had the chance.  I accept my portion of the responsibility.  I do.  I was mesmerized by his aquamarine eyes and the flurry of silly, lightheaded reactions that teem inside me whenever he’s near.  I listened to him. 

“We don’t have the luxury of moral high ground.  We need to survive.  Period.  Nothing else matters,” I say and shake my head.  “But rest easy and know that you succeeded, Will.  We aren’t like them at all.  We are being hunted, they are not.  They will live through the night, we probably won’t.  I hope you enjoy your moral high ground while it lasts,” I say. 

“Avery,” June closes her eyes and cringes at the spitefulness of my words.  Truth be told, I cringe a bit too. 
I have never been so mean in all my life.  And even though it is warranted, it still does not feel good. 

“I’m so sorry, Avery,” he says and lowers his head. 

“Don’t be,” I say levelly.  “Learn from it.  And if we survive somehow, I call the shots from here on out.”

His face is somber when he nods in agreement.

June opens her mouth to speak.  I brace myself for her to defend Will, but her lips clinch shut and her eyes leave me.  When they do, they round and remain unblinking.  Her jaw drops open but she does not make a sound. 

“June?” I ask concernedly.  I follow her line of sight and
immediately see what she sees. My breathing hitches and dread shakes me to my very core. 

Bright light shines
and tunnels through the darkness.  And it is not alone.  Several other beams accompany it along with a thunderous rumble similar to the one I heard when the truck passed earlier in the day, only louder.  I rise slightly and peer through the willowy reeds.  I see three enormous trucks barreling down the road.  An Urthman is situated in the cab and is behind a large, circular object that projects the light.  He is directing it all along the roadway, sweeping it from side to side.  I duck quickly when the shaft of light skims past my head.

“That thing is like a portable sun.  What’s powering it?” I panic.

“I have no idea,” Will answers. 

I lift my chin and stare once again at the trucks.  Without warning, the
y swerve off the road and begin barreling through the field in which we are hiding.

“Oh no,
” I breathe.  “No, no, no!” I gasp.  “Run!” I scream to June and the others. 

We bound to our feet and attempt to scurry away. 

Suddenly, the light is all around us. We are bathed in it as fully as if we were standing out in unfiltered sunlight.  A truck is roaring behind us, nipping at our heels like a Lurker, while another advances from the side.  Urthmen spill from the vehicles, they pile out in staggering numbers.  I realize running is futile. 

I
shove June behind me.  Will does the same with Riley then Oliver.  Oliver is unarmed.  I pull my sword from its sheath and clutch it in both hands.  I watch as Urthmen file through the tall grass, tramping a path through the growth until they are before us.

The realization that I have failed Oliver, Riley, Will, and June sinks in my chest
like a stone, taking me down with it.  I feel as though I am being pulled into the earth itself.  My blade is heavy.  My arms and legs are spent.  A high pitched ringing resonates in my ears so loudly it drowns out the growl of the trucks and the shouts of the Urthmen swarming all around us.  I have failed us.  We will die within seconds, here, in the grayed and dirty landscape that was once home to our kind. 

I swipe the sweat from my brow and look from side to side.  We are grossly outnumbered.  But I will not die without claiming lives before I fall.  I will fight to my death. 

When the first beast makes his way toward me, I strike him down, opening him up across his waist.  Judging from the stunned expression on his face when I swing, I gather he expected me to willingly surrender my sword.  He expected wrongly. 

As soon as I withdraw my blade and attempt to swing it again, the Urthmen descend on us.  A
blow lands against the back of my skull.  A scattering of multicolored dots glow in my field of vision.  They are slowly replaced with murky blotches that fill in until all I see is utter blackness.

Chapter 9

Ice-cold water rains over my hea
d and body, splashing against me so that it bites my skin like countless bee stings. 

“Wake up, human!” A tinny voice shrieks through the void like metal
striking stone.

The icy blast and the voice
combined bring me back to consciousness abruptly.  I jerk my upper body upright.  My eyes snap open and my head swivels.  I can barely see, but what I make out conjures dread and pure hatred, two emotions that shake the bones in my body and nearly shatter my soul.  Urthmen, unmistakable in all their horrific nastiness, are before me. 

“No, no, no, no,” I try to scream but my words come out as little more than
muffled, incoherent babble. 

My vision is groggy and jumbled,
yet I see them, a mess of dark shapes blurring together.  But soon that mess focuses to a machete-sharp point, along with an ache in my forehead that is equally knifelike.  The intense pain, coupled with my vision, confirms that I am alive.  Impossibly, I am alive and conscious.

C
onsciousness brings with it not only the perception of intense pain and stinging cold, but also the realization of my predicament.  My eyes scan the space before me.  Cavernous stone, wet and gray, surrounds me on three sides, while metal rods fill the fourth from the ground I lie upon to the low, rocky ceiling.  I am in a dark and chilly chamber corroded with tree roots, spider webs and bars. 

Bars cover the entrance to a shadowy tunnel, the only apparent way out. 
And the four hulking Urthmen I saw as soon as my eyes opened are still holding dripping buckets, posted just beyond the bars.

My heart begi
ns to patter frenetically.  The harder it pounds, the more my head throbs.  I am imprisoned.  I do not know where I am or how I got here.  All I know is that I am caged.  I feel an immediate flash of anger when I look to my left and see my sister.  She is conscious too.  Caked blood mats her hair.  She has raised her body so that she is on her hands and knees.  Her frail body shivers and she heaves several times as if she may vomit. 

“June,” I try to form the word from my lips but my mouth is uncooperative.  Her name is absorbed by the atmosphere.  “June,” I try again.  This time my voice is stronger.  It has graduated to a raspy whisper. 

June’s head tilts toward me.  Her movement is slow and labored.

“Avery,” she murmurs in a barely audible voice.  “You’re alive.”

Even in her weakened condition, I still hear the relief in her tone.  But I doubt she is even a fraction as relieved as I am to see her, to hear her voice and know that she is alive.  Seeing her gives me a reason to survive, to fight. 

“Are you oaky?” I ask her softly
and ignore the Urthmen at the bars.

“I-I think so,” she answers in a shaky voice.  “But I don’t feel so good.”

“What?  What do you mean?” I say and stand slowly. 

The small act is met with skull-shattering jabs behind my eyes, but I
do not care.  June needs me.  I can feel it.  I promised her long ago that as long as my heart beats in my chest, I will find a way to get to her, no matter what.  The distance between us is minimal, my sacrifice insignificant. 

I breathe deeply against the pain and
regret it instantly.  The fetid, sour stench of death permeates the air around me.  I gag involuntarily.  Twinges ricochet around my head like spearheads exploding into my brain.  The effect staggers me.  I grind my molars and pant, using every ounce of might to push against it, to push the pain to a remote place inside of me.  I focus on June.  I envision her as she was not long ago when we went to the meadow filled with wildflowers.  We both fell asleep on that hot summer morning.  But before that, June lay, her clear face the picture of peace while her golden tendrils fanned out around her head and coiled around stems.  I can see her clearly in my mind’s eye, smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on my skin.  It’s as if a gentle breeze, perfumed with the sweet smell of grass and earth and a vague combination of flowers, blows and replaces the foul odor of rot and a heated glow encroaches on the darkness.  I can almost feel the warm swath of sunlight heating my skin, ridding me of the aches and chills that have settled deep in my pores.