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HORRIFIC IMAGES CONTINUE to flash in my mind over and over as Sully and I head back to his refuge. The gleam of The General’s sword as it cut the air, the twisted delight in his eye, and the gore, so much gore. Imprinted in my brain, the visions are indelible. I’m certain they’ll haunt me for the rest of my days.
Trying to force the execution to the back of my mind, I scan my surroundings. The sun is low in the sky. Treetops and undergrowth glow in shades of vivid orange, rich gold and crimson, their leaves blazing like flames. The world is bathed in fire. The colors, like the temperature, are warm. But I am not. A chill has settled over me that nature cannot thaw.
My entire body trembles, even my jaw, and my legs feel as if they’re struggling to support my weight. Cold, clammy hands refuse to still and alternate between fingering my hair and the hilt of my sword. A part of me would like to stop walking, to just stop right where I am, drop to my knees and weep. I watched two human beings lose their lives because of me. The convoy of Urthmen had been intended for me and the people I’m traveling with, not the innocents who died. The Urthmen wouldn’t have even been out searching, those humans wouldn’t have been caught. Their blood is on my hands, blood that will stain me forever.
My breathing becomes labored, my breaths short pants. I glimpse Sully from the corner of my eye. Fortunately, he isn’t watching me, and he isn’t smirking. To the contrary, he is brooding, his mood as heavy and glum as mine.
A flock of large, black birds unexpectedly bursts from the ground just a couple of steps away from us. I rip my sword from my scabbard and lower my stance, prepared to fight, just as they take flight. I expect Sully to comment on what I’ve done, to mock me even, but thankfully, he doesn’t. The only sound I hear is the squawking, screechy protests of the birds as they take to the sky.
Sully is unusually quiet. I am grateful for his silence. Neither of us has said a word since we left. I don’t trust that I can speak without crying. Crying in front of Sully, or anyone other than June, is not an option. Vulnerability has no place in the world in which I live. So I ignore the tightness in my throat and blink back the tears that threaten. I concentrate on the soft swish and rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs from our footsteps. I breathe deeply and allow the sound to soothe me.
I continue, as I always do, and focus on what will happen next.
Before long, we cross a small seasonal stream, swollen with water and fallen leaves. It is a familiar sight, one that brings with it a flutter of excitement in my belly. It means we are close, close to Sully’s house, close to June. I picture her sparkling, silvery-blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and the wide smile she will wear when she sees me, and my spirit is buoyed. I remind myself that she is the reason I didn’t rush headlong to aid the humans who’d been captured, that her survival depends on me staying alive. It doesn’t absolve me of my guilt entirely, but it helps a little.
Once we are across the stream, we’re immediately swallowed by an abundance of thorny bushes and brush. Branches, crisscrossed at every turn, threaten to gouge our eyes, and thorny vines that slink along the woodland floor scrape at our pant legs. Trees grow larger the deeper we delve and canopy our path, filtering much of the sunlight. When first I ventured here with Sully and Jericho weeks ago, I found the landscape downright hostile. More than once, I was pricked by spiny burrs and limbs. But now I’m used to it, and while I don’t move as easily and gracefully as they do, I lumber a lot less.
The bushes and undergrowth start to thin and walking becomes much easier. I strain my eyes, and see the nearly invisible wire about chest height. Sully and I exchange nods and turn our bodies sideways then dip our heads and upper bodies beneath the wire. We repeat this process about ten more times, navigating an intricate labyrinth of lines, until a white clapboard structure with sooty streaks smudged from the upper windows to the roof comes into view. The paint is peeling and weeds have grown over the first-story windows, but the house has become a comforting sight. Beside the house, two vehicles are parked. One is a truck and the other is a camper. The camper, once fueled after we steal gasoline from the Urthmen tomorrow, will be our ticket out of the forest, and the savage land in which we live.
Sully, walking just slightly ahead of me, stops suddenly. He whirls and faces me. His eyes brim with darkness, an indescribable suffering I understand all too well. “What happened back there,” he starts, but his voice catches. He scrubs his face with his hands, his movements agitated, and then plants both on his hips. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened back there, okay? I killed Prince Neo, not you. Their deaths are on me,” he jabs his chest with his thumb.
The squeezing in my throat returns and is unbearable. I try to speak in spite of it. “We were all there, and we’re all in this together,” I say in a low raspy voice.
A short pause passes between us. Sully is staring off into the distance, as if searching the horizon line for answers. “I hate myself for letting them die,” he says through clenched teeth.
“I do, too,” I reply.
His head whips toward me. His gaze probing yet wounded.
“I don’t hate you,” I qualify, and his expression relaxes visibly. “Me, I hate me for letting it happen.”
His shoulders slump and a look of defeat clouds his features. “Don’t, don’t do that. You have June. You’d have been a fool to run out there and get yourself killed.”
“You would’ve been a fool, too.”
“Would I have, though?” he asks after huffing bitterly. “I mean really, Avery, if I died saving those three people, who’d miss me, huh? Who’d mourn? Jericho?”
“Of course Jericho would!” I reply without delay. “And June, Will, Riley, Oliver,” I keep count of the names by ticking them off on one hand.
Sully is shaking his head. “No. Those are your people. Other than Jericho, the rest of them are yours. They wouldn’t care in the least if they never saw me again. Some more than others,” he adds sourly.
“Yes they would care. And I would, too. I’d be devastated. But this isn’t about who’d miss you if you died.” I throw my hands in the air in exasperation.
“Then what is it about?”
I hesitate for a beat. “It’s about human beings, our people, dying at the hands of Urthmen. It’s about finding a way to get to the underground city you told us about and living in peace.” I make no mention of my intent to rally others to fight, to end the reign of the Urthmen. He’ll find out soon enough. I’ll discuss that with him and everyone else when I have to, and not a moment sooner.
He parts his lips to speak but I raise my hand to silence him. “I know we have a long, dangerous road ahead of us and that it might not work out. But for now I have hope. June has hope. I want to see it through. I want her to have a life that doesn’t include running all the time, and being terrified.”
Sully eyes are locked on mine. He holds my gaze. “I guess you’re right,” he says. For a split-second his expression is unreadable. Then he offers me a half-smile. “Let’s go. I bet you can’t wait to see June.”
He turns and leads the way. I follow him around the side of the house to the back. He begins separating long, reedy weeds until a door, placed flush against the earth, appears. He pulls a key from his pocket, unlocks a padlock looping through two metal hoops and opens the door to the old bomb shelter.
“After you,” he says and sweeps a hand toward the opening.
“Thanks,” I mutter and begin descending the ladder.
Above me, Sully shuts the door behind us and engages a lock from the inside.
Lower and lower I climb, navigating the rungs as if I’ve been doing it my entire life, until ashen light floods my field of vision. My feet land on a hard floor and Jericho’s deep, smooth voice rumbles. “You’re back early,” he says from behind the bank of solar-powered television screens. The screens show images of what’s going on above us. He likely saw Sully and me talking moments before we came down. Perhaps he even heard our exchange. The audio feed works intermittently.
“Hey Jericho,” Sully calls as he drops to the floor, skipping the last few rungs and landing on both feet.
His entrance is always grand, I think and reflect back to when he saved us in the arena.
“Anything new to report?” Jericho asks.
“Oh there is, but you’ll have to wait, my friend. We want to tell everyone together.” The corners of Sully’s mouth hook upward to a sneaky smile. He narrows his eyes at me, a playful gleam in his gaze.
“Avery!” June squeals and diverts my attention from Sully and Jericho to her.
I turn in the direction of the sound in time to see my sister rushing toward me.
“You’re back and you’re okay!” she exclaims as she wraps both arms around my waist and squeezes.
My heart doubles in size. I hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. “Of course, I am. And I’m always coming back.”
Her grip on me strengthens. “You don’t know that. Not for sure,” she says into my shirt.
She’s right. I can’t say for sure that when I leave the confines of Sully’s space I’ll return. I couldn’t say as much when I left the cave, either. Nothing is certain. Her words resonate with truth, and with the fact that she is growing up. Wiser and more mature, June is too smart to be pacified with overly optimistic promises.
“You’re right, June,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t say that to you. You’re older now, and able to handle the truth.”
She leans back and beams at me, crinkling her small nose. I can’t resist poking it lightly with my index finger, as I’ve always done, and she giggles.
“Hi Sully,” she says and peeks around me at him.
“Hey June bug,” he replies with a wink.
Pink tinges her cheeks and her smile broadens. I’m about to ask for the reason that she reacts to Sully as she does when another familiar voice calls my name.
“Avery, hey,” Will says. His arms are folded across his chest and he leans against the wall, his aquamarine gaze intense.
Each day I return from surveying the warehouse, Will looks at me harshly at first, as if I’ve betrayed him in some monumental way, then relief slowly softens him.
“Hi Will,” I reply.
He looks from me to Sully. “Hey Sully,” he says without enthusiasm. “You guys are back earlier than usual. Everything okay?”
A hint of something spikes his words, a tone that fuses suspicion and accusation.
“Yup,” Sully says with a grin.
Will glares at him with unconcealed distrust. In an effort to defuse the tension, I return my attention to June and say, “Hey, do you mind if I talk for a minute with just Will? Maybe you could keep Sully company while I do.”
Her brow creases and I feel guilty.
“I’ll be quick, I promise, and then Sully and I have something to tell everyone.”
Her eyes widen, her curiosity piqued. She thinks for a moment then answers. “Okay, but hurry up.”
“You got it,” I say and watch as she hurries to Sully’s side. He is bent over beside Jericho watching the monitors closely.
I walk over to Will and nod toward the far corner of the room. He clips his head and follows. We pass Riley and Oliver. Engaged in a chess match, a game Sully found when he took up residence in the bomb shelter, they greet me warmly.
I stop beside the cot I slept on when we first arrived.
“So,” Will starts. “How was your day with Sully?” Not bothering to mask his jealousy, he practically spits Sully’s name.
After what I saw today, and everything that will happen in the coming days, I have no patience for resentment and pettiness. Our lives are at stake, our futures, and he’s worried about Sully and me growing closer.
“Will,” I say and rub my temples. “There’s nothing going on between us. We go out, watch the warehouse and try to make a plan to get fuel. That’s it.”
“You’re together, all day, and nothing has happened? Nothing at all?” he asks doubtfully.
“No, nothing, and what does it matter to you anyway?” I snap.
Will’s head jerks back a bit. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “You know what it matters. You know I—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Will, I can’t even think of anything like that now,” I say sternly; perhaps too sternly. His brows gather in consternation. Softening my tone, I continue. “We don’t have the luxury of this,” I gesture between us, “right now. We need to get out of here and be safe before I can even think about feelings like that.”
I watch as Will’s features collapse and his bright eyes become overcast. He’s upset. It’s written all over his face. He shifts his weight from one leg to the next for several seconds then tips his chin, his expression hardening.
My stomach curls in on itself. I hate what I’ve done to him, how I’ve made his demeanor transform; how I’ve hurt him. I do feel something for him, the strange emotion that makes me restless and nervous when I’m with him, and consumed by thoughts of him when we’re apart. Now just isn’t the time to explore that strange emotion.
“Let’s get out of here, get on the road, and then we can talk, okay?” I say and reach out a hand and place it on his forearm.
I half-expect him to snatch it away. He’d be smart to do so. But he doesn’t. He covers my hand with his and smiles. But disappointment touches his features.
I try not to dwell on it. I try to look ahead to the news I’m going to share in the coming moments, to the prospect of journeying away from where we’re at and resuming the regular threat to our existence we used to have. Not the continual target on our backs we have now.
“Come on,” I say and tug his arm. “Let’s get back to the others. Sully and I have something to share and we want to tell everyone at once.”
As soon as we step from the alcove with the cot, I see that Sully has gathered Riley, Oliver, June and Jericho. “There they are!” he says. “You two were gone so long I started to get worried.”
I want to ask what exactly he’d been worried about, what he’d been implying, but June’s voice stops me.
“I can’t wait another minute. Tell us already! Tell us your big secret,” she urges excitedly.
I feel Will standing behind me when I inhale deeply. My shoulder blade brushes against his chest. The contact comforts me yet leaves me with goose bumps. I rub my hands together and say, “For starters, it’s not a big secret.” I clear my throat, nerves making me stall. “So Sully and I have a plan. We’re going in tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll get inside the warehouse and take the fuel.”
I describe the plan Sully and I have hatched in as much detail as possible. When I’ve finished, heavy silence fills the space around us. The gravity of what I’ve said, of what will happen, crystallizes fully.
June’s smile capsizes. Her exuberance is replaced with fright. She is scared, and for good reason. She moves to my side and interlaces her fingers with mine.
Will paces around our group, stopping opposite me. He watches me, his gaze keen. His brilliant blue-green eyes slice through the sallow light and shimmer like twin turquoise gemstones as he rubs his chin and processes all that I’ve said.
“Well, what do you think?” Sully asks finally.
Will speaks before anyone else. “I think it’s a mistake. It’s too dangerous,” he offers without hesitation.
“We are going,” I surprise myself by saying in a strong, clear voice. The words flow from me freely, authoritatively. “We need gasoline to get that camper going. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that we’ll be discovered and caught. We go. We get the gas, and we get the heck out of here.” I leave no room for further discussion. “You,” I address Will directly, “Sully, Jericho and I will go.” Then to Oliver I say, “You’ll stay here with Riley and June.” All eyes are on me. “We get the fuel and leave as soon as we return.”
The small muscle near Will’s jaw flexes. He is gritting his teeth so hard I can practically hear the enamel of his molars crackling as they pass over one another. My eyes plead for him to understand. I try to wordlessly convey to him that I wasn’t attacking him personally, just that an opportunity exists and we need to take it. His brow is furrowed and the vulnerable look he wore when we were alone is gone. His nostrils flare and anger radiates from him.
The silent exchange occurring between us isn’t lost on Sully. He looks from Will to me, an amused impishness marking his face. My blood boils at the thought that he’s enjoying the bitterness emanating from Will. “Okay then,” he claps his hands loudly. “I guess it’s settled. Tomorrow, we’ll sack the warehouse and get ourselves some gas so we can ditch this place.”
“Tomorrow,” I swallow back the annoyance brimming inside of me then usher June toward the cot. The need to escape Will’s glower burgeons.
I know I have ruined the tenuous goodwill I’d earned after telling him I’d discuss feelings and emotions when we’re on the road. I sense I’ve wrecked everything. Hot tears scald the backs of my eyelids. I blink feverishly. This is not how I’d hoped this would go. I don’t know what I expected, but am certain this was not it. I’m frustrated and scared that I’ve severed the fragile bond between Will and me. The only solace I feel comes when I look at my sister. She is the force that motivates everything I do. She is the reason I wake each morning, and fight. I’ve fought for survival, and I’ll fight for her right to live, safe and free. The first step toward that will be taken tomorrow night when we steal barrels of fuel from the warehouse.