Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) (8 page)

I expect Will to lose his temper and shout at me.  I am angry and scared and not expressing myself in a calm or rational fashion.  But he does neither.  Instead, his features wilt a
s if I’ve reminded him of very important points, and I begin to wonder whether
I
am losing
my
mind. 

“Both of those instances were very odd,” he admits then scrubs both hands over his face. 

“Who do you think the kids and the babies belong to?” I ask and rein in my temper.

“That’s a good question.  I have no idea,” he says.

“Will, I think we’re in trouble here,” I look over my shoulder to make sure the kids do not here me and whisper.

“Avery,” Will says gently as he tips his head to one side.  His pale blue-green eyes glow in the dim light
.  He places his hand on my forearm.  His touch is so light it sends a small shiver racing up my arm. “I think not sleeping for so long is getting to you.  I think it’s affecting your judgment, making you a little paranoid,” he says.  “Let’s try to get some sleep.  We can talk more about it in the morning, once we’ve rested.  I don’t know about you, but I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been,” he says and traces a small line with his finger down the soft underside of my forearm.  The sensation is so exquisite I could cry.  His handsome face and mind-scrambling touch combined with the soothing tone of his voice muddles my thoughts, my memory.  We have all been through so much in the last few days.  Will and his siblings lost their parents.  They watched them die.  He is deserving of a night of rest at the very least.  I suddenly feel selfish for burdening him with what may very well be paranoid imaginings of an overtired brain. 

Standing as close to Will as I am and enjoying his fingertips atop my skin,
I almost forget what I am so upset about.  Almost. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” I agree. 
If they don’t slit our throats while we sleep
, I add in my head. 

I step away from Will, away from
the delightful feel of his touch, and grab a sleep sack.  I unroll it beside June and, after saying goodnight to her and the others, I lay flat on my back. 

My limbs feel as if they are melting into the dirt floor beneath me.  Every part of me becomes heavy, even my eyelids. 
Much-needed sleep finds me and I drift off.

Chapter 4

I do not know how much time has passed when I wake with a start.  The flame inside the lantern is so small I can barely see the inside of the hut.  All I am able to make out are the shapes of sleeping bodies.  I count quickly, tallying four to be sure, before climbing out of my sack and scuttling next to each of them.  When I hear deep, even breathing, I am calmed somewhat. 

But that calm comes to an abrupt end when the muffled sounds of cries echo through the stillness.  The fine hairs on my body stand at attention.  I freeze for a moment and hope against hope that my ears deceived me, that I did not just hear the
strangled sound of a woman’s scream pierce the night.  The tortured shriek rings out again, and I know I did not imagine it.  I jump to my feet, adrenaline flooding every cell in my body, and dash out of the hut. 

The moon is full and the light it shines is bright.  I am careful to stay in the shadows as I slip
among the huts, though.  I do not know what I expect to see but know that I don’t want to be seen.  I do not come across a single person as I skulk farther away from the hut June, Will and the others occupy, none except for the two men patrolling the wall.  I glimpse them in the distance.  They do not appear to be alarmed in the least. 

I start to turn and head back when I see a man make his way to one of the huts.  I assume he is returning there to sleep.  Still, I stay and watch.  He knocks at the door and another man answers.  When the man answers, the front of his body is on full display.  His shirt is unbuttoned and his pants are unfastened.  He speaks to the man who knocked in hushed tones, then begins zipping and buttoning his clothes.  He steps out and the man who knocked steps in.  He closes the door behind him.  I watch as the man who answered the door marches away between the huts until he is out of sight. 

Beyond the door, I hear a man raise his voice.  I am pulled, as if by invisible strings, toward the hut.  I press my ear to the smooth wood and listen.  The rumble of the male voice is accompanied by panicked pleas and then a loud slapping sound.  I jump back away from the door in time to hear a female scream then sobs of misery.  My hand darts out, as if of its own choice, and is on the doorknob.  My heart is thudding in my chest, filling my eardrums with its fitful pounding, as I consider turning it.  But the empty scabbard at my back reminds me that I am unarmed, and therefore of no use to whomever is being hurt inside the hut. 

I retract my hand and ball it into a fist.  I am unarmed for now, but do not intend to be for long.  I search the map my mind has made of the compound, drawing on old memories as well as new ones, and begin moving toward the cabinet
in which my weapons are locked.  I take several steps but freeze in my tracks when the door to the hut opens suddenly.  

I duck out of sight and crouch low beside a neighboring hut, out of the moonlight and swathed in sooty shadows.  I hold my breath and watch as the man who entered the
cabin not long ago leaves.  He is buttoning his pants as he goes.  He twists his upper body and barks orders over his shoulder.

“Now you keep your filthy mouths shut in
there!” he warns before he shuts the door behind him. 

I wait until he is
gone then bolt toward the hut he just left.  I open the door and nearly lose the dinner I ate hours earlier at the sight I am confronted with.  Candle light flickers and casts a soft glow on the interior where four girls are nude.  Shackles bind their ankles and wrists and are hooked to lengths of chain that are fastened to thick posts in the ground.  One girl is crying.  Blood drips from her lip and angry welts mark her body.  Two appear to be no older than I am, and one looks as pregnant as my mother was when she was killed. 

The room spins in lopsided circles for several turns, but it isn’t until a noise behind me
sounds that the spinning grinds to a dizzying halt.  Large hands firmly grip my upper arms from behind.  I am spun and instantly met with a vaguely familiar face, one I saw at dinner hours earlier.  He is a large man with a long scraggly beard and hair to match.  He was one of the five seated at the table when we arrived in the dining hall.  He is crowding the doorway with his sizable frame.  I would not be able to make it past him even if he weren’t holding me. 

“Hey there, little lady,” he greets me with a kindly tone that contradicts his grasp.  “Looks like you lost your way.”

I squirm and feel his grip loosen slightly.  “W-why are you doing this?  Why are these women used like this?”

“We are growing our flock,” he answers without apology.  “We are rebuilding humanity.”

His answer catches me off guard.  I expected to hear that the women were there for the men’s enjoyment, for pleasure.  I’m sure they are, but they’re also breeders.  And the man before me thinks he is doing something noble.  Hot tears blaze behind my eyelids as the direness of the circumstances hits me fully. 

“Why do you have to keep them chained up like that?” I ask and feel tears spill down my cheeks. 

“They are chained because they wouldn’t stay if we let them roam free,” he admits.  “We found them wandering the woods just like you were wandering the woods.  Only you came to us, like a gift dropped on our doorstep.” He lowers one hand and cups my chin in his hand tenderly.  My skin crawls at his touch.  “So lovely,” he murmurs before a rumble echoes from deep in his chest.  I suppress the urge to vomit. 

“You found the girls wandering through the forest alone?” I manage to ask without gagging. 

“No, not all at once, at different times,” he answers and strokes my cheek with his thumb.  “They each had their own groups with boys and men.  But we have no use for more men.  We did away with them.  But don’t you worry about a thing,” he says then lowers his voice and adds, “You’re going to make a fine addition to our group of women.  And so will the two little ones.  They’re not old enough for birthin’ but Ross likes ‘em that age regardless.”  The man licks his lips and whispers in my ear, his mouth so close his rancid breath wafts across my face.  “He likes his girls real young, and pure, but I like ‘em a little older, like you.”

A surge of anger explodes inside of me unlike any I have ever experienced.  Rage bubbles and brims and sends a memory
rushing to my brain.  I hear my father’s voice instructing me where to kick a male Urthmen, or any man for that matter, if ever I am threatened and unarmed.  The man’s crotch is close.  I raise my knee and launch it squarely between his legs as hard as I can. 

The man’s eyes widen then he doubles over clutching his pelvis.  He lets go of me
, and I start to run.  But he regroups fast and catches me by the collar of my shirt and flings me backward, slapping me when I am in arm’s reach.  The blow stings like thousands of bee bites and sends me stumbling off balance.  I slam into the far wall and hit the back of my head before falling to the ground. 

My head is throbbing and I see a scattering of black dots in my field of vision, but I fight the compelling urge to close my eyes and submit to the darkness.  I force
them open and see a rock about the size of my fist.  I grab it and jump to my feet, surprising him.  I swing the rock as I lunge and release it.  It zips through the air and hits him directly in his forehead.  He staggers backward then falls to the ground. 

Nature takes over.  I am commanded by a killer instinct rooted deep inside of me.  I see red.  I want nothing more than to hurt the man who promised to hurt my sister and Riley, the man who hurt so many women, the man who intended to hurt me.  I do not waste a moment.  I attack.  I scoop up the rock that collided with his head and straddle his chest in a single, swift motion. I hoist the rock high overhead and crash it against his skull over and over again until I am panting and covered in a fine layer of sweat.  I look down at his face.  His eyes are unfocused, unmoving, as is the rest of him.
  I search his pockets and find his keys. 

I take a quick look at the women I will leave behind.  I see smiles touch their features that reveal youth.  Their expressions set my feet into motion.  I run off in the direction of the shed holding my weapons.  I run as fast as my legs will take me and do not stop until I am standing before the metal cabinet I saw earlier.  I fumble with the key
s, frantically trying each until I find the one that fits. 

“Come on! Come on!” I whisper hurriedly as I turn the key in the lock. 

When the door swings open, I nearly cry out with joy.  But time for celebration does not exist for me.  I have my spear, my dagger, my sword and Will’s club when two men round the corner and head my way.  I dart off in another direction as I see them begin to run.  I drop everything except my sword.  I clutch it tightly, excited to be armed again and looking forward to fighting the first man who confronts me. 

These men are no better than Urthmen.  They abuse women and children.
They are monsters in their own right. 

The first man arrives, armed.  He is clutching a sword as well.  He rushes me and wields it like an ax, chopping down.  I deflect his labored swing easily then slice the air horizontally.  The edge of my blade drags across his throat, cutting it deeply.  The man’s weapon clangs to the ground just as another, familiar man approaches.

I recognize Ross immediately. 
Ross
. I spit his name in my mind like venom.  He is the one who duped us into surrendering our weapons.  He is the one who likes little girls.  My body begins to tremble with fury. 

“Boy, you’re beautiful when you’re mad,” he wheezes. 
He is breathing heavy from running and makes the first move, hefting his blade clumsily.  I sidestep his swing easily and pause for a moment, staring at him.  He awkwardly attempts to slice me a second time, but again, I avoid being hit with ease. 

“What’s the matter?” I toy with him.  “You can’t handle a woman who fights back, you fat boart!”

He takes another lazy swipe, winded and red-faced.  Only this time, I do not toy with him.  I move in for the kill.  I cleave the air with all my might, driving the blade laterally, and open him at his gut.  His weapon falls seconds before his innards spill. 

I turn and take comfort in knowing that Ross is out of commission, that at least the female children in the compound will be safe for the time being, and sheathe my dagger and spear then pick up Will’s club.  I clutch it in one hand
and my spear in the other.  I take off toward the hut in which June, Will, Riley and Oliver sleep.  When I catch sight of our hut in the distance, I see Jay, Tal and his father standing outside.  A torch has been lit.  In the firelight, I see that Will has been dragged from his sleep sack.  He is on the ground.  Tal hovers over him with the tip of his sword dangerously close to Will’s chest. 

I unsheathe my spear from my back and summon every muscle in my body to be strong and precise.  Then I hurl it
with all my might.  It flies through the night and cuts the air, never stopping until it stabs through the center of Tal’s throat.