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“RUN FASTER!” I SCREAM to Will, Riley, Oliver and June. I grab June’s hand and jerk her forward, in front of me. “Come on, come on!” I urge Riley and Oliver too. They must remain where I can see them, and we all need to get as far away as fast as possible. We flee from where Urthmen are approaching.
“You think we’re stupid, don’t you, humans?” I hear the male Urthman whose home we were just in call out after us.
His inhuman voice no longer sounds civil, and it certainly does not sound pleading. It has returned to what Urthmen always sound like, a voice that is tinny and grating and slices at my eardrums like innumerable blades. And it taunts us.
“Don’t look back!” I tell the children when I see Oliver screw up his features and glance over his shoulder. “Just keep running!”
Cruel laughter erupts between the male and female. “You thought we would just let filthy humans run free in our town! Ha! You will be dead long before the sun rises!” the female cries.
Rage wells from a cavernous reserve, inundating every cell in my body as it overflows.
A dark recess deep within me, hidden and coiled tightly like a venomous snake, beckons me to run back and do what should have been done in the first place. But I must deny it. I must deny an inherent part of me that demands their blood be spilled. Instead, I press on. I sprint away from the male and female.
We run along the blackened street. The glow of the moon has faded, its light hidden behind a bank of clouds. We cover a lot of ground and pass numerous cross streets. I feel my blood throbbing against my skin in time with my speeding heartbeat. My skin struggles to contain it. I pump my arms and pant as I race. But before long, I notice the children slowing.
“I can’t,” I hear June gasp as her grip on my hand goes slack. “It hurts too much.”
One hand flies to her side and clutches what is undoubtedly an aching stitch that has developed. Even in the thick, sinister darkness, I can see that she grimaces. I hate that this is her reality now, running, always running for her life.
“No, June. Keep going,” I encourage her despite the fact that my entire body is hurting and trembling also.
My breathing is labored. My arms and legs sting unbearably. Each sears with fatigue.
I peek over my shoulder, slowing only slightly as I do, and see torches are still advancing. Anger crops up inside of me, and it is not earmarked for the male and female Urthmen exclusively. I am angry with Will as well. I listened to him, even though I should not have. I allowed my feelings for him, as confusing as they are, to cloud my judgment; to cause me to deviate from what I know is right. And now we are paying the price for my clouded judgment. As I run, I vow to never let it happen again. My feelings must never interfere with the safety of my sister and I.
“Turn here,” I tell our group between choppy breaths as we come upon a turnoff street. Everyone does as I have told them to, including Will.
When I round the corner and make my way down the side street, I steal a look over my shoulder and see that some of the torches that glow eerily in the void have stopped moving. Few are following us as far as I can tell. I am tempted to breathe a sigh of relief. But a sinking feeling in my gut prevents me from doing so. I know that Urthmen do not easily give up. They do not retreat. They kill.
I try to force their deadly nature to the back of my mind when the pitch-black darkness becomes disorienting.
“Will, I can’t keep going,” Riley says. Her voice is thin as she barely manages to speak between breaths. She has slowed considerably and is jogging now.
Will rushes to her side and places an arm around her waist for support. “I gotcha,” he says. “I’ll help.”
“No, I’ll slow you down,” Riley pants dejectedly.
“No you won’t. I’ll carry you if I have to,” Will tells his sister.
As mad as I am at him, I admire his dedication to his sister. Unfortunately, carrying Riley would slow Will almost as much as her lethargic trot is slowing him now. I need to come up with something else, something that will buy the children time to catch their breath.
Another cross-street catches my attention. I almost missed it smothered in the oily shadows that coat the area. An idea forms in my mind.
I do not have time to think it through and time is running out. I do not know how much longer the children have before complete exhaustion claims them and they collapse. I must act now. I must go off on my own.
“Take the kids and keep going straight,” I tell Will. “I’m going this way,” I say and point to the road that bisects the one we’re on.
“No!” Will whispers so loudly his voice borders on a normal volume for speaking.
“Shh!” I shush him. “Do you want them to hear you?”
“Sorry,” his says quietly. “But you can’t go off alone. We need to stay together.”
“We can’t. The kids are tired and slowing. The Urthmen will be on us in no time if I don’t do this,” I say.
“We can make it. I can carry Riley, trust me,” Will says.
A bitter huffing sound escapes my lips. Frustration, fear and fury plow through my body as one. “Trusting you got us where we are now,” I mumble under my breath and feel my upper lip curl over my teeth. I can’t believe I allowed the words to fall from my lips, no matter how quiet they were. I am angrier than I originally thought.
Will does not respond to my comment. Perhaps he did not hear me. I cannot tell. I cannot see his face clearly through what feels like layers of impenetrable darkness. I only hear his voice echoing. “Come on Avery, I can do it. Don’t you believe me?” he tries to persuade me by saying.
I feel something in me stretch so far that it thins and threatens to snap. “No, Will, I don’t,” I growl. “And from here on out, I call the shots. Take the kids and go, now,” I say in a tone that does not leave room for argument or compromise. “I’ll catch up and find you,” I say just before I speed my pace, slapping the soles of my shoes against the pavement loudly so that I all but guarantee I will be heard and pursued by Urthmen.
I veer down the side street and instantly see an old, broken down car. I crouch low and duck behind it, waiting for the torch wielding Uthmen to make their appearance. I hear the tapping of their boots as they approach and dread tiptoes down the length of my spine. But it is coupled with something else, an entirely different sensation. Ire and hate boil together and gurgle beneath my flesh. I am frightened, yet a part of me eagerly anticipates the impending confrontation. I yearn to vent my wrath. I have a long-standing score to settle.
I unsheathe my spear from the scabbard at my back. I ready myself to act, gripping the weapon so tightly it bites into my palm. The footfalls draw nearer. All of my emotions converge and bombard me at once. I worry I will hyperventilate from overload. Outwardly I am still, as poised as a wildcat just before it pounces.
I see the torches. There are three of them, and they are close. They light paths that make the Urthmen’s presence known long before their arrival. But I have an advantage. Their light glows on them, not me. I see them, and judging from their actions, they do not see me. I watch them through a busted out window in the car. Their black eyes glow with fiery light and make them look even more grotesque than they already look, a feat I thought impossible.
Just as they are about to pass, I stand slowly, quietly. I think of my mother, of Will’s parents, of Riley and Oliver, Will and June, of myself and all the others who perished at the hands of the mutant species that reigns over the planet, and I launch my spear.
The sharpened tip pierces the air and carves a path through the inky darkness and rockets straight into the back of one of the Urthmen’s heads. I bend down in time to hear the familiar sound of a female Urthman’s voice scream out in pain. I rise to carefully peer out through the broken window once again. I see that one has fallen, the female I presume, and the other two spin around, looking in every direction.
Their hideous faces are etched in confusion. They search for the source of the attack and one makes his way toward the car. I watch him and wait.
My muscles twitch from holding my crouched position for so long, and with expectancy. He begins to walk to where I stay. I scuttle around the car holding my sword firmly and close to my body. When he comes around, I spring to my feet and drive my blade through his midsection.
His mouth opens wide and he emits a strange groaning sound. The section of his shirt my blade entered becomes tinged in an expanding pool of garnet. I retrieve my sword and watch as the Urthman wobbles and staggers backward a few steps. He looks down at the wet spot on his shirt that surrounds a gaping wound. I do not waste time. I take advantage of his shock and kick him. He topples over and crashes to the ground. When he is flat on his back, I plunge my blade in the center of his chest to ensure he does not get up.
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 wretched 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 Urtmen 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 and 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, they swerve off the road and begin barreling through the field we are hiding in.
“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 nothing but utter blackness.