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“JUST KEEP GOING,” I encourage an exhausted looking June. I whisper the words in her ear and will her body to be infused with strength. My sister turns to me briefly. A look flashes in her silvery eyes. It is laden with steely determination, and utter fear.
“I am,” she replies breathlessly.
Her cheeks are beet-red and her breathing is labored. I hate seeing her this way, especially knowing that I am to blame, sort of.
My temples pound in time with my heartbeat, the sound of blood roaring in my ears filtering the sounds of the woods. But they hammer with less ferocity than the anxiety drumming away at my brain.
“How much farther are we going?” June asks between pants.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. I wish I had a better answer. I wish I knew exactly where we were going and how long it would take to get there, but things are not that simple. “But you’re doing great. All of you are,” I say as I crane my neck and look over my shoulder at June, Riley and Oliver.
Riley offers a weak smile and Oliver just nods. Behind them, Will walks. Rays of light streak through the woodland canopy and kiss his golden skin, causing a wash of chestnut highlights to scatter through his raven hair as he continues along the same dirt path the children and I travel along. His appearance, his rich bronze skin and brilliant aquamarine eyes are a sharp contrast to my emotions. Dark and heavy, I feel none of the vividness and lightness he radiates. To the contrary, I feel every ounce of the weight of four lives resting squarely on my shoulders.
As if sensing my load, Will says, “We’ll keep going until we find a safe place to rest.”
I marvel at his tone. He is not winded and he does not sound low-spirited. Surprisingly, his tone is almost upbeat.
“I know this is hard on you guys,” he continues. “All of us are leaving a place we’ve come to know and love. It’s scary. We’ve been through scary, horrible stuff. But we’re here now, together, and we’ll get through this.”
“That’s right,” I agree and wish I felt as certain as Will sounds.
“I’m just so afraid,” Riley says. The tremor in her voice is apparent. “Those monsters, the Urthmen, they killed mom and dad and I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Neither can I,” Oliver says.
I slow my pace so that I walk alongside Riley and Oliver. Up close, I realize Oliver looks so much like Will, only shorter and with rounded, more boyish features.
I place a hand on his shoulder and give a gentle squeeze. “I know what you’re going through. Not that it helps at all,” I add and mentally kick myself for being so socially inept. I close my eyes for a split second and try to channel June’s fluidity when she speaks to others. “What I mean to say is that what you saw was just about as awful as it gets, but you will get through it. The pain and sadness you feel, you’ll get through it, I promise.”
Oliver turns his head to face me. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, making the blue-green of his irises glow. “Thank you,” is all he can manage. I hear the all too familiar catch in his voice as his ability to speak is strangled by the tightness in his throat.
Sadly, feeling his throat constrict is one of the many experiences he will endure when he recalls his parents’ murder. He will never forget what he saw. None of them will. I haven’t. Time only eases a small portion of the initial trauma, but it never erases it. The event will be indelibly etched in his memory. I cannot tell him that, especially since the loss of his parents is not the only challenge he faces.
We are fleeing the forest. Will, Riley, Oliver, June and I are leaving the only shelter we’ve ever known and heading toward an uncertain destination, one that promises unrelenting danger. But we must go. Urthmen, monstrous mutations of human beings that rule the planet, have infiltrated the area, and Lurkers, bloodthirsty beasts that hunt by night, have discovered our cave, have caught our scent. If we had stayed in the cave June and I called home for the last six years, they would not have stopped until they found a way inside and made us their meal. We did not have another choice. We had to leave. Our lives depended on it.
We continue to walk for what feels like eternity, passing tree after tree, bush after bush. Occasionally, I look behind me at Will. The hike begins to wear on his positive mood, and now, what can only be categorized as a tormented expression plays across his face. Tormented, or perhaps it is an expression of quiet resignation to our fate. Either way, a horrible, sick feeling materializes in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m so thirsty and tired,” Riley says and demands my attention. Her voice is as thin as a reed. I can hear the fatigue in it, the desperation. Her words echo my feelings. I wish I could tell her, tell everyone, that we can stop and rest, that another solution exists. But it does not. The sun is slanted low in the sky. The world around us is bathed in waning rays of gold. Dusk is looming. We must keep moving. We must keep going as fast and far as we can possibly travel. I know we will not make it out of the forest by nightfall. But we cannot remain out in the open as we are, vulnerable prey awaiting the predatory advance of ferocious creatures. I search for a place for us to hide as my eyes scan the lush surroundings.
“The day is slipping fast,” Will says to me. He peers at me over the tops of the children’s heads. His voice is tight and fraught with concern and his lips collapse and form a dour line. “Time is running out.”
He has stated the obvious. As the sun sinks lower, our need to find shelter becomes direr. Once it disappears altogether, so do our chances of survival if we are not secure somewhere safe to spend the night. I do not know if such a location exists at this point.
“I’m looking,” I tell him and do not mask the unease in my tone. “We need to find something fast. Just keep looking.”
His eyes narrow and his brow furrows as he nods in agreement. He turns from me and looks out into the forest. I do the same. We are headed in a direction I have never explored before. This part of the forest is heavy with the scent of evergreens and musty earth. Pinecones continue to fall from trees and land with soft thuds and plunks. Overhead and all around us, imposing trees with limbs that sag as if bearing the weight of snow stand sentinel, intimidating with their pointed barbs and rigid appearance. Shadows of tree branches dance along our path as if waving us forward, inviting us deeper into the heart of this uncharted area of the woods. I do not see a craggy rock formation, or anything for that matter, other than towering pines, firs and other green, spiny-leaved trees. A rock formation would suggest a cave, which is what I had hoped to find. Even if it were small, Will and I would find a way to squeeze our group inside, I am sure. But the possibility of finding a cave seems remote at this point.
A thread of doubt begins to weave its way into my brain. But there isn’t time for doubt or hesitation, only commitment. I have committed myself, and everyone with me, to making it out of the forest safely. June, Will, Riley and Oliver are all my responsibility.
We push ahead and make our way through the thicket.
Once we are past the point where the pines and evergreens grow side by side closely, I get a better view of what we have to work with: Nothing. We have nothing to work with at this point.
Worry sends an icy chill through me that courses through my veins until it wraps itself around my heart and nearly freezes it mid-beat.
Will casts an anxious look my way. I rub my forehead. My palms are sweaty and my heart has resumed beating. Its rate is now spiked not from physical exertion but from panic.
“I don’t think I can keep walking,” Riley says and rips us from our wordless interaction.
Her color has paled dramatically, a fact that does not go unnoticed by Will. He rushes to her side.
“She needs to rest. We all do,” he says to me as I make my way toward Riley.
Will is kneeling and digging in his backpack. We took only what we could easily carry from the cave and left the rest. He retrieves a canteen and raises it to his sister’s lips. Before she fills her mouth, I place my hands on her cheeks. They are clammy and cool to the touch, a bad sign considering the heat has been sweltering all day long. I drop my hands and watch as she drinks.
I realize Will is right. I have pushed the children harder than their young bodies are capable of handling. They need to rest. And I need to figure out how we are going to survive the night.
“There,” I point to a small clearing with moss covered logs on one side. Will looks up and follows my finger’s trajectory. “Let’s sit over there,” I gesture to the closest one.
Will caps his canteen and slings his backpack over one shoulder. He then cups Riley’s elbow with one hand and wraps the other around her small waist. He leads her to the log and makes her sit and drink from his canteen. Oliver sits beside them, but June stays with me.
“Think she’s going to be okay?” June asks me, concern lacing her words. She stares at Riley and Will for a long moment.
“Yes, I do,” I reply. “She just needs a rest and some water, maybe some dried boart meat, and she’ll be fine. I’ve pushed you kids too hard today,” I admit.
“We are running for our lives, Avery,” June spins and faces me as she speaks. Small coiled tendrils of her blonde hair have escaped her braid and frame her face. Her complexion is flushed, and a small crease marks the space between her eyebrows.
“I know,” I say in a voice that is barely above a whisper. “I need to find us shelter fast, but I don’t see anything even remotely suitable.”
June chews her lip contemplatively and folds her arms across her chest. She stares off into the distance. “What can I do?” she asks after a moment. “Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”
Will approaches and she turns toward him. “How’s Riley? Is she okay?” June asks.
“She’s fine,” Will answers reassuringly. But his expression remains serious. “Would you mind sitting with her and keeping an eye on her for me for a minute while I talk to your sister?” he asks June in a warm, familiar tone.
June nods and says, “Of course,” before making her way to the log on which Riley sits.
When June is out of earshot, Will’s demeanor transforms from friendly and earnest to tense and cool. “We need to find a place now,” he says with intensity.
He is looking to me for a solution, one I do not have. I have led us deep into the forest blindly, and without even the most skeletal of plans.
“I know,” I say as my eyes scour the surrounding area. My stomach knots tightly. Four people are counting on me to save them from an encounter with Lurkers. “I just need to think.”
Will leans in. “Hey, I’m not putting this all on you,” he says. His tone is apologetic. “I am with you; we are all in this together.” He grips my shoulders and looks directly into my eyes. “And we need to get through tonight together.” His breath feathers across my face and makes my skin tingle. Our circumstances teeter on the edge of a great precipice of danger, yet Will manages to evoke an array of unfamiliar reactions in me.
“I know,” I say quietly. I feel heat bloom across my cheeks and hate that I cannot stop it from happening. I swallow hard and finish my sentence. “But I got us into this. And I have to get us out of it.”
Will drops his hands from my shoulders and rakes his fingers through his dark hair, ruffling it so that I nearly lose my train of thought. “I am here to help too. I’m just not sure there’s anything to help with at this point,” he adds dejectedly.
“Well, we can’t just keep walking,” I say. “The kids are drained and the day is fading fast. I have to come up with something.”
Will’s eyes lock on mine briefly before they peek over my shoulder at Riley. Worry etches his features. He has lost so much already. His pain is plain.
“Go,” I say to him softly. “Go make sure she’s okay. She needs you.”
I need him too, but I do not dare say as much to him. His sister is a child, a child who just watched her mother and father be butchered by Urthmen. Riley’s needs take priority over me rummaging through my brain for a suitable and safe shelter for the night.
“I’ll be right back,” he says to me before he darts off toward Riley.
I close my eyes and rub my temples. I think of my own parents, of June and the life we led, of the life we are leading now. I wish my mother and father were alive. My father always knew exactly what to do. He had a gift for surviving seemingly insurmountable odds. I wish he were with me right now. I wish he could tell me what to do. But I know he can’t. He is gone; a fact that nearly brings me to tears though it has been a year since his passing. I shake my head in a feeble attempt to clear his face from my mind’s eye and open my eyes. I turn them skyward. And when I do, I spot a massive elm tree. Its branches stretch and seem to reach until they touch the sky, abounding with leaves, full and dense, its top rounded in appearance. As I stare at it, an idea dawns on me. I am reminded of the night we escaped the attack at the compound with my father, the night my mother was murdered by Urthmen.
That night, we burst from the tunnel and, after collapsing it on the Urthmen inside, fled into the forest, into the night. Darkness, thick and sinister, swallowed us whole. Stony moonlight cast a ghostly pallor on the vibrant hues the woodland was usually bathed in and faded everything around us to an ashen silver-gray. I remember it all; remember it too well, in fact.
Standing in the forest in broad daylight as I am now, I swear I can smell the musky scent of molded leaves and seasons changing, just as I did that night. Our lives had just changed, yet the scent struck me, stayed with me. I breathe deeply and hear my father’s ragged breathing, the memory of it so fresh it feels as if it happened only yesterday.
The threat of Lurkers was imminent that night, as it is every night, their presence as certain as the blood pumping in our veins. But we had just survived Urthmen storming our village. We did not have time to search for a cave or a decent place to hide. We had just lost everything, my mother, my unborn sister or brother, our home and most, if not all, of the inhabitants of the compound. We managed to escape, but barely. We had a new obstacle to contend with, another deadly one equally as dangerous as Urthmen. We were confronted with Lurkers.
As we dashed among trees and growth, the rustle of grass and leaves plagued our nerves. I remember squeezing my father’s hand so tightly, I worried he’d wince in pain. But he didn’t. He knew better than to make a sound and alert Lurkers to our presence. He carried June and led us to a tree similar to the one I am looking at now.
Broad, bushy limbs stretched and looked as if they mingled with the constellations. My father slid June to his back and lifted me as high as his arms could, then told me to climb, to keep climbing until he told me to stop. The urgency in his voice set my feet into motion. I clambered knotted knobs on the trunk until limbs intersected one another like ladder rungs. Once, I craned my neck and looked over my shoulder to check on my father. I realized in that moment how high up I had climbed and remember feeling as if a wave of cold nausea crashed over me. My skin became damp and my brow and palms became slickened with sweat. A whimper attempted to vault from deep in my throat but was seized by the lump of terror lodged there. I couldn’t feel my heart beating in my chest and my hearing assumed a muffled quality similar to being underwater and perceiving sounds above the surface that were softened and distorted. Still, I pushed down the anxious reactions raiding my body and climbed. My arms and legs felt as if they were made of sponge and my insides quivered. But the instinctive need to survive won out over my silent panic attack.
When my father’s voice whispered for me to halt, I froze where I was and waited for him to tell me what to do next. I did not dare look down again when he instructed me to hoist my leg up onto a limb and sit with my body leaning against the thinner center portion of the tree. He and June joined me and we waited there until a blazing arc of orange crested on the horizon line. My father, June and I endured the forest at night, teeming with Lurkers, sitting on a tree limb concealed by leaves and branches.
An almost identical tree saved June and I once before. I hope it can do the same for Will, his brother and sister, June and myself a second time. With no other option in sight, the colossal elm tree before me is our only hope.
My eyes remain pinned on the tree when I mumble my thoughts aloud and say, “We will stay here tonight.”
Impossibly, Will hears me. He looks away from Riley and leaves her. His features scrunch in confusion as he approaches. “What? You want to stay here, as in right here where we’re standing?” he asks.
My head suddenly feels like the flame on a beeswax candle. “N-no, not, uh, here exactly,” I say and trip over my words. My gaze vacillates between him and the elm. I raise my arm and point. “I meant there, in the tree. We’ll spend the night in this tree.” I stare at the interlinked branches so jam-packed with leaves a creature would be hard-pressed to see us without concentrating hard.
In my periphery, I see Will’s head whipsaw from me to the tree then back to me again. He looks at me as if I do not know what I am talking about. He looks at me as if I have lost my mind. “What?” he asks incredulously. “You can’t be serious! Oh my gosh! I can’t believe this is happening! I can’t believe we listened to you and left!” He is gesturing animatedly, his words cutting me with more precision than his hands cut the atmosphere. He takes a few sharp breaths then looks at me. His expression is hard. “We cannot spend the night in a tree,” he pronounces each word slowly and deliberately.
“We don’t have another choice,” I say levelly and match his tone by enunciating each word.
“There’s got to be something other than this,” he says huffily and slices the air a final time with his hand.
“Oh yeah?” I say heatedly. “Is there really?” I feel the tension of the day spiraling tightly inside of me. “Well then, I am all ears. I’d love to hear any and all suggestions you have.”
I plant my fisted hands squarely on my hips and glare at Will, waiting, daring him to come up with a better solution. I allow several beats before the pressure in me starts to seep. I tip my chin defiantly and purse my lips.
“Hmm, I’m still waiting,” I say and tap my foot impatiently.
I know I am being obnoxious, but Will touched a nerve, a raw nerve, when he implied that I don’t know what I’m talking about, and that it was a mistake to leave the cave. His top lip curls over his teeth and he looks as if he is about to say something. I roll my shoulders back and boldly maintain eye contact, bracing myself for what I assume will be a venomous retort. I am not about to be bullied or belittled by a boy whose life I’ve saved, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t care that his sparkling aquamarine eyes popping against his tan skin make my insides swirl. I will not tolerate him grumbling at me or meanness of any kind.
Several seconds pass and he does not lash out at me as I expected. In fact, I am shocked when Will’s features soften. His posture relaxes and he stops glaring at me. His gaze flickers from my mouth to my eyes. I wonder why. I wonder whether one of the children is nearby and he is silently telling me to shut my mouth. I did not hear footsteps approaching.
I test my theory and part my lips to speak. He does not flinch or look as if he wishes for me to be silent, so I say calmly, “I know the tree sounds like a crazy place to spend the night, but please, just trust me, okay? My father kept June and I safe the night my mother was killed by hiding out in a tree. Actually, it looked just like this one,” I say and point to the tree again.
Will nods somberly. “About what I said before,” he starts.
“You don’t have to say anything. Don’t worry about it,” I say tightly and hope he does not hear the strangling sensation I feel choking my voice. The backs of my eyelids are hot. His doubt, the thought of him regretting leaving with me, branded itself in my core before he ever spoke the words aloud. Hearing his voice actually say them only served to solidify them. It brought a fear of mine to fruition.
He holds my gaze for a moment, but I look away first. “I’ll tell June about my plan. You can tell Riley and Oliver whenever you’re ready,” I say and turn on my heels. I walk briskly to where June is seated beside Riley.
I watch as my sister rubs Riley’s arm and speaks soothingly. She is a natural-born nurturer in addition to so many other splendid things.
“June, can I borrow you for a minute?” I ask.
“Sure,” June says and reads my face. She excuses herself just as Will approaches. He sits where she sat and I gather he will tell his siblings what I intend to tell June.
“What’s up?” June asks and looks serious.
“I found a place for us to stay tonight,” I tell her.
Relief floods her features. “Really! That’s fantastic!” she exclaims. Her eyes begin sweeping the area around us. Her features wilt a bit. “Where? Where will we stay?” she asks and is clearly perplexed. “I don’t see a cave or any real shelter.”
I lick my lips and take a deep breath. “We are going to do what we did the night we left the compound, the night mom was killed,” I say.
“What? What does that mean?” June asks.
“You were too little to remember what happened or how we survived, but I do. We fled the village through an underground tunnel and found ourselves in the middle of the forest at night,” I say and try to coax a memory from her I know she does not possess.
“Okay, yeah, I vaguely remember dad mentioning it through the years, but he never wanted to talk about that night at all,” she bobs her head slowly as she speaks.
“I know,” I say solemnly. “But what we did that night saved our lives and I think it is the only option we have now to avoid being dinner for the first Lurkers that find us.”
I hear the words leave my lips. They send a shiver down my spine and conjure the sound of hissing and snarling we heard from the night before as Lurkers tried to dig their way into our cave.
June’s arms are wrapped around her waist, clutching her midsection. “So what do we do? What is the plan?” June asks.
“We are going to hide out up there,” I say and point to the elm tree.
“What?” she asks and her face crumples just as Will’s did moments ago.
“I know it sounds crazy, but you and dad and I never would have made it that night if we hadn’t gone up into a tree.”
June watches me warily.
“We will climb as high as we can and avoid the Lurkers altogether.”
“But Avery, you’re forgetting that Lurkers can climb,” June adds in a voice that trembles.
“No, I know they can climb, but why would they?” I ask and look toward the tree again. “Unless they see us going up, they’ll never know we’re there.”
June’s eyes follow my line of vision. Her lips part slightly and she expels a thin stream of breath.
“Right now, it’s our only hope. Hiding out in the tree is all we have,” I tell her honestly. “We can stay in the tree for the night then hike all day tomorrow and be out of the woods and not have to worry about Lurkers.”
“That’s right. We won’t have to worry about Lurkers anymore. The worry of Urthmen will replace it, only there is no escaping them, not even in the daylight.”
A look I have never seen haunts June’s face almost as much as her words haunt her voice. Her words crystallize my thoughts. She is right. We will not hide from Lurkers at nightfall. We will continually run from Urthmen.
“June, the woods are not safe from Urthmen anymore either. You know that. Will’s parents were just the beginning. How long do you think it would take before they found us too? No, we are not trading up one threat for another, worse one. We are losing one of two if you ask me.”
June closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Oh my gosh,” is all she murmurs.
I reach out to her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” I say. “June, look at me.”
Her eyes open and slowly meet my gaze.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say. “I promise. We will be okay.”
Her lower lip quivers and I see unshed tears shining in her eyes. She blinks them away feverishly. “How can you be so sure?” she asks in a small voice.
“I-I can’t explain it,” I say and would rather not describe that I was thinking about our father when the idea popped into my mind and the tree came into view. Whether or not it was a coincidence does not matter. I am sure this is the only way to live through the night. “I just am,” I tell her. “It’s what dad would do if he was here, and he could survive anything.”
Tears spill over June’s lower eyelashes and stream down her cheeks. “You’re wrong. Dad survived a lot of things but he is not here. So he could not survive everything,” she says and refers to the fact that our father is dead.
“He lived a long time. He had fifty birthdays. That’s a lot considering all the medicines that kept people alive two hundred years ago don’t exist anymore,” I try to explain. But June is only eight. Her understanding of life is limited. I do not fault her for that. “Please June, just trust me, okay? Do you trust me?”
A small sob racks her body and she nods. “Yes I do,” she manages.
“Good,” I say. I draw her against my chest and hug her. I hold her tightly for several moments then gradually release her. “Now let’s go see how Oliver and Riley are taking the news,” I smile weakly and say.
I take June’s hand and lead her toward the log Will sits atop. An expression of confirmation flashes across Will’s face.
“So we’re all set here?” I ask.
“I think it’s cool,” Oliver says. “It’s a really great idea, Avery.” Despite his words, Oliver’s expression isn’t that of a wide-eyed boy, but a young man, wizened by tragedy.
“Thank you, Oliver,” I say to him. “I’m glad you’re on board.” Then to Riley, I say, “How about you, Riley? Do you think my idea is cool too?”
Riley does not answer. She twists and buries her head in Will’s chest.
“She’s a little nervous about being up so high,” Will says and rubs his sister’s back.
Me, too, I want to say. But my fear of heights is irrelevant at this point.
“You’ll be okay,” I say to Riley. “Your brothers and I will make sure of it, won’t we guys?” I say.
“Yeah, absolutely,” Oliver puffs out his chest and adds.
“Of course,” Will says.
“So it’s settled then. Let’s hunt and eat quickly and start climbing before the sun sets.”
I hear utterances of agreement and June leaves my side. She goes to Riley. Will approaches me.
“Want to hunt together or should one of us stay here and guard the children?” he asks me.
I would like nothing more than to have him by my side at all times, but I know that it is too dangerous to leave the children unprotected.
“I’ll go ahead. You should stay here and watch over the kids.”
Perhaps the time alone will be good. Hunting comes naturally to me. I am at home in the woods stalking prey. Maybe I will gain some perspective off on my own and away from the group.
“Oh, okay,” Will says reluctantly. His shoulders hook forward ever so slightly and his gaze drops to the ground below.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think he is disappointed. I do not know for certain.
“Okay then,” I say and work a small tuft of weedy growth back and forth with my foot. “I guess I should get going. Dusk will be here soon,” I say and bring up the fast fading day.
“Yeah, you’re right. See you back here soon,” he says. One side of his mouth tilts upward, stretching his thick lips enough to make the dip beneath his nose almost disappear. I tear my eyes from his mouth and take a fleeting look at his eyes before I stalk off in search of a rabbit or some other mammal that will feed the five of us.
I am able to spear a rabbit and a squirrel for our dinner. We make a small fire and roast the meat once the animals are skinned and gutted. June extinguishes the fire with dirt and is careful to clear any evidence of our flames, just as our father taught us. With our bellies full, the time to retreat to the tree is upon us.
The sky is a faded blue, wan and pallid beside the stunning stretch of brilliant salmon that encircles the setting sun. Day has not yet surrendered to dusk and the sun is making a final appearance, blazing in its entire splendor. Though thoroughly terrifying, the sight of the setting sun is breathtakingly beautiful. I would love to stay and watch it, but more pressing matters demand my attention. We must get up into the tree before the sun disappears.
“I think Riley should go first with Oliver right behind her followed by you,” I say to Will when I realize he is standing right beside me, gaping at the sunset.
“Okay,” he says.
“Next, June will go, and I will go last,” I conclude while the children speak to each other quietly.
“Okay,” he says again, his eyes fixed on the glowing sphere of orange blazing closer to the horizon line with each moment that passes.
“Okay,” I echo his word choice. “I think we should go now.”
Will turns to me. His tan skin is warmed by radiant rays or pure gold. His pale blue-green eyes are luminous and watching me intently.
I do not know what to say. All words have escaped me. He reaches out a hand and places it on my cheek lightly. His thumb strokes my cheekbone so gently it makes the fine hairs on my body rise.
I try to inhale, but my breathing snags. He is close, so close to me I can smell his skin, feel his heat. I do not know what he is doing, why he is cupping my face with one hand. All I do know is that I wish he would keep doing it, that we could stay as we are forever.
“Avery,” he says my name and my heart sets off at a gallop. He opens his mouth to speak again, but before a sound slips from him, Riley’s voice calls out.
“Will!” Riley cries. “Come on! I need you with me before we go!” she says.
His eyes leave my face slowly, along with his hand, and whatever Will was about to say remains a secret only he knows.
I inhale and exhale several times before I rejoin our group. When I do, we make our way to the elm tree. Will hoists Riley as high as he can, and as soon as her feet touch bark, she begins climbing. Oliver goes next, followed by Will.
“Don’t stop until I tell you to, okay?” I say exactly what my dad said to me the night we sought refuge in a tree just like the one I stand before.
Will and his siblings agree.
“June, it’s your turn,” I say and give her a reassuring hug from behind. She pats my forearms and places one foot on a knot protruding from the trunk. She begins climbing.
After a quick scan of the surrounding woods, I trail behind her. I ask Riley and Oliver to stop once they are high in the tree branches, nearing the point where the limbs become too frail to hold the weight of a child, much less adults such as Will and I. I sit on a branch opposite Will, Riley and Oliver and watch as the sun melts into the skyline. Darkness descends quickly.
Bloodsuckers swarm my face as I clutch June’s waist with one arm and the branch of the tree I am sitting on with the other. I want nothing more than to shake my head from side to side wildly and swat the air around my face. But I cannot. I must endure the onslaught of mosquitos and allow them to feast on me. Being their human buffet table, though annoying, is a welcome alternative to being a midnight snack to a Lurker. I squeeze my eyes shut and repeat that fact in my head again and again. But when I hear the swish of grass below, they snap open. I glance beneath me, through the intricately interwoven network of branches, and see dark shadows, oily and blacker than the pitch darkness. Lurkers, I am certain, are stealing about. They slink by, prowling in the night. I hold my breath. I do not dare look down again and risk my stomach pitching before diving to my feet and silently hope they do not sense us.
When the soft sound of grass rustling passes, I fill my lungs with air and offer thanks to whatever nocturnal animal they were likely tracking. I lower my chin and peek fleetingly at the earth below before returning my gaze to June, then to Oliver and Riley. As I scan their faces, I realize that Riley has dozed off. Will’s arms are wrapped around her protectively, but his eyes are locked on my face.
In the weak light provided by innumerable stars dotting the inky-black sky and an anemic-looking not quite full moon, I can make out the lines of his face, the chiseled angles of his chin. And I feel him watching me. A slight breeze whispers through the treetop we are tucked in. My stomach sways along with the branches. Despite being completely sapped of energy and more spent that I can ever remember being, knowing that Will is watching me sends a jolt rocketing through my insides. We exchange a knowing expression that makes my scalp tighten and tingle despite my extremely uncomfortable position, and the fact that I am perched high in a tree with murderous Lurkers stalking in the vicinity.
Another breeze stirs the leaves and thin branches around us. I take a cursory glance in the distance and see that other treetops do not move. Goose bumps prickle my arms as waves of apprehension sweep over me. The stillness all around me is unnatural compared the odd, intermittent whooshes of air that puff toward us. I look at Will. He seems to notice what I observed. He looks from the stillness beyond our tree to the wavering leaves, limbs and foliage around us. His brow furrows and I feel certain something is not right.
I am about to motion to him when a large splotchy shape streaks past us. It is so quick I almost miss it. And as it passes, it sends a small burst of air our way much like the breeze I thought I’d felt. Will’s gaze follows the greasy form as it doubles back toward us. It slips in our direction, only closer this time, and I hear the beat of wings flapping against the ether.
A gust of wind wafts in my face and I am tempted to shield myself against it, but I do not. Instead, I remain, eyes wide open, and look on in horror at the winged creature gliding toward us. Its body is easily the size of mine, only it looks nothing like a human, or anything else I’ve ever seen for that matter. Large ears prick upward, stabbing at the sky and standing at attention, while shining eyes, pitch-black and darker than the night itself, pierce the space between us. But neither its eyes nor its ears are what make the creature terrifying to behold, not even its pale, wrinkled, snout-like muzzle. The most chilling aspect of its appearance lies lower. A broad mouth is opened wide revealing razor-sharp incisors and oversized blade-like canines.
Shockwaves rip through my body and my heart feels as if it will explode.
“Oh my gosh,” I breathe as it dives toward us and emits a shriek that curdles my blood.
June startles. Her eyes snap open and she sees the winged creature. She gasps and starts to scream, but I slap my hand over her mouth and remind her where we are in a low voice. “Don’t make a sound,” I warn her. “Lurkers will hear you.”
The beast is close, its beady eyes trained on us. It caws and zips past us. I am certain it intends to circle back.
The sound and the flurry of activity will draw attention to us. Lurkers will come for sure. That is, if the creature does not attack us first. I cannot allow either to happen. I lean close to June and whisper, “Hold tight to the center of the tree. Do not let go. Do you hear me?”
June nods and I let go of her waist slowly. I lift my legs and slide them both to one side then push myself up to a crouching position. I stand carefully and grip a branch above me as soon as it is within reach. I widen my stance then draw my sword. I wait for the bat-like beast to return.
I hear the whoosh of air as the creature swoops toward us, its jaw unhinged. My heart batters my ribcage so hard I fear a rib will be damaged in the process. I am panting when the beast comes within reach. I haul my sword high overhead with one arm and cleave the air. My blade meets with flesh and carves straight through it until it is freed on the other side. I have beheaded the beast. Its head careens to the ground below immediately, followed by the body, and both land with a clunk. The follow-through makes me begin to lose my footing and cling to the branch overhead, all the while squeezing the hilt of my sword so tightly with my other hand that my palm burns. I regain my balance just in time to watch a pack of Lurkers descend on the head. They begin devouring the meat that rained from the sky, but not before sniffing the air and investigating the area around them. They yelp and chuff softly. I crouch and sheathe my sword then slide beside June and press us both to the center of the tree. Will and his siblings do the same.
We remain out of sight until the wet slopping sound of feeding returns and we feel confident the Lurkers have resumed feasting. We breathe a collective sigh of relief when finally they finish and move on. June’s body shivers next to mine and I hold her tight until her body stills and her breathing becomes even. Several times during the night, I feel my grip on her slacken, feel my body tip forward and begin to fall, but catch myself just in time.
The night creeps at a painfully sluggish pace. I fear I will fall, so I do not sleep, save for the intermittent dozing that leads to waking with a terrified start. When day finally dawns, I feel as if I may cry. I am bone-tired; exhausted in a way that surpasses physical exhaustion. But I know a daunting task awaits me. I must climb down from the tree. And I must hike for the entire day.
I groan and June stirs.
“It is morning!” she exclaims as soon as the bleariness leaves her eyes. “You were right, Avery! You were right all along. I’m so sorry I doubted you,” she whispers.
“Me, too,” Will surprises me by saying. “You saved us again last night from that . . . monster,” he adds. “I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay.” His voice is sincere and serious.
“You owe me nothing,” I say softly and look him in his eyes. Then to the children I say, “We need to get down from here. I don’t know about any of you, but my backside is numb.”
A series of chuckles ripple among them and one by one, we make our way down the tree.
I do not know where our next journey will take us and I do not know what the future holds. All I know is that as long as blood pumps through my veins, I will fight to keep us safe. I will fight for our right to live.