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Hot tears burn my eyes. My throat snaps shut, tight around the emotion that has gathered there. June is here, alive and well. June saved my life, and most importantly she’s safe. “H-ow did you find me?” I ask. My voice is little more than a reed-thin sound muffled by her hair as I clutch her tightly with my head near the crook of her neck. It cracks and I do not try to hide it. The days of feigning strength for her benefit are over. I’ve seen and survived far too much to conceal who I am. To conceal that I’m human. I’ve come to learn that sometimes true strength means being completely vulnerable. Allowing who you truly are to show. Loving someone more than yourself. I love June more than myself. I love John and William more than myself. More than life itself. I love Sully more than myself. With each person I’ve added for whom I’d readily forfeit my life, I’ve become increasingly vulnerable. And stronger. A small whimper escapes me, a shudder racking my body as the tears that seared my eyes seconds earlier fall down my cheeks. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins has seeped from me. I hug June tightly, afraid to let go.
“Are you okay?” June asks. “They tried to—” This time, it’s her voice that catches. She sniffles a few times then steps back, composing herself. Silvery moonlight kisses her skin, highlighting the muscle definition of her shoulders and the length of each arm. Though she looks like a goddess of war, I’ll always see her as my kid sister, the little girl I want to protect. “They were going to do to you what they did to Nadia.”
Nadia. She remembered them well enough to connect them to Nadia? She recognized their faces? “You recognized them?” My eyes widen and I’m sure I look as surprised as I feel.
“No, not at first. Not until a few minutes ago, actually.” She shakes her head as if she’s as stunned by the revelation of who they were as I was. “At first I followed the Urthmen trucks. I was just outside of Tyr waiting and trying to figure out what to do and then they pulled up.” Her gaze grows distant for a moment as she stares just beyond me with eyes that don’t look focused on a particular point. “They were right next to me. They pulled up, with their long hair and scraggly beards, and killed their engines. They started talking. Talked about their plan to get you.” Her malachite eyes pierce the night as they focus on me fleetingly. “They had no clue I was just a few feet away. Close enough to hear them. And smell them.” She curls her upper lip in disgust. “There were four of them.” Her tone hardens. “I took out one of them just as they left for Vox.”
Mike. She took out Mike. Mike was the rider they lost. The one they didn’t seem to care about losing. June was the person responsible for his demise. Not the Urthmen. Knowing that gives me an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
“After he fell off his bike, I took it. I couldn’t let them come after you.” June’s face is set in stone. Though the three men of which she speaks are dead and died by her hand, she still retains a flinty demeanor. “At that point, all I knew was that they wanted to kidnap you, not force themselves on you.” She spits the word “force” with hatred then glares at the corpse nearest her.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, forcing the images of their faces, their taunts and the feel of their hands upon me to the farthest reaches of my mind. The more pressing matter is that my sister rode into a fray of blood-thirsty Urthmen in pursuit of a trio of dangerous, misogynistic men aiming to kidnap me. The horrific possibilities of what could’ve happened to her are endless. I can’t believe she took such a risk. “So you were there with all the Urthmen when they grabbed me?” I ask as I try to wrap my mind around it. The thought of June riding straight into the dark heart of enemy-laden territory alone is almost too much for me to process.
“Yes,” she replies. She folds her arms across her chest.
I rub my temples for a moment then rake a hand through the front of my hair. “You shouldn’t have risked it.” I shake my head. “You could’ve been killed.” I look her directly in the eyes.
“You’d have done it for me, wouldn’t you?” she asks and already knows the answer.
“Yes, but you’re my sister,” I start.
“And you’re my sister,” she says then looks at me. Though her expression is unreadable at the moment, the slight tick of one eyebrow seems to defy me to pursue the argument further.
“But you’re my little sister. You’re younger than me and I am supposed to look out for you,” I say pleadingly. “So of course I’d have done it. I’d do anything for you.”
“I’m not a child anymore, Avery,” June snaps then looks shocked by her own response.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying you are,” I say.
“I know,” June says in a far softer tone. “And I’m sorry for saying that like I did. But you have to understand that the fact that I’m younger than you doesn’t matter at all. It doesn’t mean I somehow love you less or am less willing to risk my life for you.” She pauses and takes a breath. Her brow furrows and she stares at the ground for several beats. When she looks up at me again, she says, “Don’t you get it, Avery? Don’t you see by now? You’ve risked your life for me more times than I can count. You changed everything, brought about peace, something I never thought I’d see in my life.”
A small, bitter laugh passes my lips. “Yeah, that peace I brought about worked out well, didn’t it?” My stomach feels like snakes inhabit is, ceaselessly slithering over and under each other. “According to him,” I clip my chin toward Ed, whose mouth is open on a silent, pain-filled scream, “everyone is dead. Every city has been invaded and every person within it slaughtered. All I did was issue my people a prolonged death sentence.”
“I can’t believe you’d even say that. You can’t blame yourself. No one saw this coming. No one.” June slashes the air horizontally with her hand to punctuate her point. Too bad she can’t change my mind. I blame myself. For every death. For all of it. I blame myself.
“I should have. As the leader, I should have.” I shrug, my gesture as dejected as my tone. “And I’m sorry that I hate that you were surrounded by Urthmen near Vox. I’m sorry that I hate that you were anywhere near them.” I scowl at their corpses. They’re dead and no longer a threat. Still they are an offense to my species. “Did you follow them from Tyr? I didn’t see you. Didn’t see anyone, for that matter. Even the Urthmen couldn’t keep up. How did you do it? How did you find this place?”
“I did follow them. It wasn’t easy. I had to keep the headlights off. Even with the moon full, I could barely make out shapes. But I managed,” she says offhandedly. “I stashed the bike that way.” She turns and points behind her. “And came on foot. The bonfire gave me enough light for a clear shot.”
Once again, my hand moves to my forehead. I cradle it with my palm. “June.” Her name comes out as more of a sigh. I want to say more, but decide to leave it alone. To be grateful that she’s okay. And that she saved me.
When I raise my head, June looks at me expectantly. “We have to warn everyone,” I say.
“There is no one to warn, Avery,” June says somberly. “They weren't lying about our cities.” Tears fill her eyes. “I was headed into Galway to warn them and have them radio to Kildare. But when I got to the city limits, Urthmen guards were leaving. They weren’t like the royal guards either. They were in military clothes and heavily armed. Smoke rose up higher than the walls around Kildare.” June’s voice breaks and tears stream from the corner of her eyes to her chin. “They’re gone. Everyone in Kildare, Cassowary and Galway. Gone.”
“D-did you see them die?” I ask the question with my eyes squeezed shut. I do not want to know the answer but need to hear it. Whatever it may be. “Oliver? Lark? Riley? Any of our friends?”
“I saw many of our friends fall. Not Oliver and Lark. Not. Riley. But I watched as many were struck down,” June replies.
Sounds of the forest echo hollowly as if I’m hearing them from underwater. The news I’ve just heard crashes against every bit of resolve I possess with the force of a tidal wave. I want to collapse. To fall to the ground, tuck my knees to my chest and cry. But I can’t. My children may still live. They may still be out in the world alive. And as long as there’s a chance that their hearts still beat, I will never stop looking for them. I will never give up. So I roll my shoulders back and say, “We need to find William, John, Sully, Riley, Oliver and Lark. We need to find all of our friends. And Prince Garan. If Prince Garan is alive.”
“I doubt he is,” June says. “But if he’s alive, wouldn’t that mean he’s involved? I mean, there’s no way he’d be allowed to live otherwise.”
“I don’t know. But I don’t believe he was involved,” I reply. “He couldn’t have been.” My mind works around the long list of supposed friends who’ve betrayed me. Mim’s name is at the top of that list, urging me to not rule anyone else out. But it doesn’t feel like the Prince would betray the humans. Or his father either.
“How can you be so sure? This was clearly planned for a long time. Uprisings don’t happen overnight.” June begins pacing. “It doesn’t add up. It doesn’t make sense that all of this happened right under the King and the Prince’s noses. That both of them were that oblivious.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. How could prince Garan, who’s as smart as anyone I know, not have heard anything about it or seen it unfolding. Or I don’t know...sensed it?” I shake my head. I feel like a hypocrite even saying those words aloud. The same could be said of me. Why didn’t I hear anything? Why didn’t I see it start to unfold? Why didn’t I sense what was happening? I would imagine that the planned slaughter of my people would crackle through the air with the energy of the atmosphere before a lightning storm. But it didn’t. I didn’t feel a thing, other than an intense dislike of Cadogan. “It doesn’t make sense,” I continue. “Prince Garan didn’t like Cadogan. In the past, he’s always gotten a good read on people and I could tell he didn’t like Cadogan. But he didn’t seem suspicious of him. Just annoyed by him.” I turn and look at my sister, searching her face for answers I know she doesn’t have.
“Maybe he led you to believe he was annoyed by Cadogan because he knows you’re spot-on when it comes to reading people. Maybe he was in on it from the beginning and that's how his father didn't know,” June says. One arm is folded across her midsection while the elbow of the other is balanced on it. Her hand is fisted and beneath her chin as she continues to pace, trying to place the sequence of events that led to this.
“No way.” I shake my head. “Prince Garan is our friend.” As ridiculous as it seems to be so adamant about the loyalty of an Urthman after all that’s happened, I still feel confident that I’m not wrong about Prince Garan.
“So was Mim,” June counters flatly. Her words are a blow to my gut. True. I did view Mim as a friend. But not remotely of the same caliber as Prince Garan.
“No,” I reply immediately. “Mim was a bartender and restaurant owner with whom we were friendly. I thought he was a friend, but never compared him to Prince Garan. The Prince was like family. I know him. I’ve spent years forming the friendship we have with him. I saw him all the time. He can’t be involved.” Even to my own ears it sounds as if I’m trying to rationalize Mim’s betrayal. Whereas Mim would be capable of such an atrocious act because he was more of an acquaintance, Prince Garan would never be because he was like family. If today has taught me anything it should be that anyone is capable of anything. Loyalty doesn’t exist. But as I try to convince myself of that dark, bleak and possibly true thought, it just doesn’t ring true for the Prince.
“Then how else could this have happened?” June asks. “If Prince Garan didn’t help overthrow his father, how else did this happen?”
“Cadogan. It was clearly Cadogan. He and his father had to have been at this for a long time, rallying all of the Urthmen and getting them onboard little by little.” In my mind’s eye I see Cadogan’s smarmy expression. The smug look he wore at all times as he bowed and seemed to dote on seeing to the Prince’s every need. All of his words were right, but they never matched his face. He was never sincere. Insincere people always think they blend seamlessly. Maybe to those who aren’t paying attention they do. But not to me. They can’t hide in plain sight around me. I saw Cadogan for what he was: sneaky. I just regret not saying something. It would’ve been a tough subject to broach with the royal family. But it may have saved lives.
“How do you know it was Cadogan for sure?” June asks.
“He called the orders at Cassowary. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw his slimy smile when I opened the box with King Garan’s head inside. And I also heard Mim call Cadogan’s father ‘King Cadogan’. Who else would it be?” Recalling my final conversation with Mim before I ended his traitorous life causes the sick pit in my stomach to deepen.
June’s feet halt. Her pacing stops. She stares at the ground for a moment. When she looks up at me, she says, “You’re right. Prince Garan isn't behind this. He couldn’t be.” She shakes her head, dispelling the idea he could turn on us. “But since he wasn’t involved, he must be dead.” Her voice trails off, the word “dead” whispered. Her green eyes shine with unshed emotion.
The thought of Prince Garan being killed as his father was—or in any way for that matter—evokes a clenching in my chest. “We don’t know for sure that he’s dead,” I say. I don’t know who I’m trying to convince more, June or myself. Neither my tone nor my words inspire much confidence. Still, I have to hope. I have to believe he’s survived his father.
A stretch of silence spans between us for several beats. Moments pass and June asks, “Where do we go now? What do we do?”
My brow dips and my eyes narrow as I think. The only possible answer also happens to be the riskiest one. The only possible place Sully and the children and Garan could be is the one place any surviving humans should avoid. Especially me. There is a bull’s eye on my back. I was marked for death long before the massacre at Vox. But if I ever want to see my family alive again and have a chance at rescuing them, I have to go. I am willing to risk my life. To surrender my life. For them. Looking at June, I say, “We have to head to the new capital. We have to head to Elian.”
“What?” June breathes, shock etching her features.
“I need to find Sully and the kids and Garan. If they’re alive, that’s where they are.”
June’s expression is a knowing one. She knows the love I feel for my children. She knows that the moment they entered this world, my life forever changed. I found meaning. I found purpose. I felt love unlike any I’d ever dreamed possible. I was gifted with the privilege of being their mother. I will not rest until I find them. My heart will not beat the same in their absence.
Gnawing her lower lip as she thinks, June lifts her chin. Her emerald eyes meet mine. “We can't take the roads leading there. The whole Urthmen army is traveling back. It’ll be blocked.”
“We need to figure something out. We need a plan.” The Urthmen army clogging the roadway blocks entrance to the city. Judging from what I’ve witnessed, the new self-proclaimed king will likely have security that exceeds that of the late King Garan. King Garan was far more accessible. He was a King of his people. They didn’t fear him as much as they respected him. Or so I thought. “But we can’t stay here. I don’t want to be anywhere near this scum.” I nod toward Ed, Tom and Earl.
“Yeah, me neither. And the smell!” June pinches her nose. “What is that?”
“I don’t know for sure what it is. All of the individual smells combined equal whatever they were,” I reply.
“Vile people. That’s what they were. They were vile people,” June says.
We both glare at their bodies for a long moment. Between the fetid stench and the sight of the wretched men, my skin feels as if innumerable insect feelers scuttle across it. “We need to get out of here,” I say with a shiver.
“I have an idea of where we should go for now to figure our next move. A quiet place that’s safe,” June offers after a brief pause.
“Where?” I’m out of ideas and curious what she has come up with.
“We need to head west to Peter’s house,” she says then watches me, waiting for my response. Peter left Cassowary years ago. He wanted to live with neither humans nor Urthmen. He simply wanted solitude. The atrocities of war weighed heavily on him. Peter craved a simple life. Not that which was offered by the newly-created cities and villages. He yearned for the time before all of the new creations deemed “conveniences” by humans and Urthmen minus the hatred and battle. He met a woman, fell in love and left. I never questioned his decision. In fact, in some ways, I envied it. I envied his bravery. I envied the simple life he was living. And I missed him. I missed his company. He moved west of the cities to a heavily wooded area arguably in the middle of nowhere, but I made a point of visiting him often, at least once a month. I’d love to see him. And June is right. It would be the safest and best place to think. He is in a location where the Urthmen would never look. Without suspicion of a large population of humans to find and subsequently kill, they wouldn’t have a reason to look either.
“The Urthmen wouldn't be headed that way. They have no business out by Peter,” I think aloud. That area is so sparsely populated most forget it even exists. “But I don't want to bring him into this. He has a new baby, a wife and a happy, peaceful life.” He was the smartest among us to leave.
“Avery, no one can be kept out of this. What Cadogan has done affects everyone. Peter would never approve of it and he deserves to know. He needs to protect his family just as much as a human family would need to.” She shrugs. “Besides, we don’t have anywhere else to go. Peter is family. He needs to know and he will help us. I’m sure of it.”
I consider her words. She’s right, of course. And inasmuch as I want to keep Peter safe, the bottom line is he isn’t. No one who’s ever befriended me is, and any humans that live have been marked for death. I could also use his counsel.
“Okay,” I agree. “You’re right. Peter’s place is safest and he needs to be warned. We shouldn’t wait though. We should go now while it's still dark.” Travel by day will be next to impossible. We’re being hunted once again. Night is our only option to move with any degree of safety. Darkness will conceal us.
“Okay. The bike is this way.” June turns, leading the way to the edge of the clearing where her bike rests against a tree. “I’ll show you to where theirs were left.” She climbs on and I follow suit, wrapping my arms around her waist as she starts the motorcycle. The engine snarls to life. June steers us around the clearing, over bramble and brush, until we reach the spot where I arrived with Ed. I climb off of June’s bike and onto the closest one. Seated, I lean back, then slam my foot down on the pedal. There is a brief ripping noise and the bike rocks from the force of my thrust. The engine whines as it idles. The loud whine of the engine tears through the woodland. “Follow me!” June shouts over the buzz.
“Okay!” I reply. I twist the throttle and the bike snarls, rumbling like an angry beast beneath me. I nudge the gear shift with my left foot and release the clutch in tiny increments. The gear catches and the bike lurches forward. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden a motorcycle. Thankfully it comes back to me quickly.
Following June, I navigate the bumpy pathway to the street. We head west, nothing but the open road and the navy, moonlit sky before us. Minutes turn to hours. The roar of the engine fills my head. And for a brief moment, on the stretch of deserted road, there isn’t room in my mind for anything other than what’s before me. I concentrate on the sound of the bike and how it makes me feel, imagining I’m one with the powerful machine as I take deep turns and swerve sharply following the roadway. A mere flick of my wrist makes it rise up on its back wheel before darting off. Racing. Heart-pounding, for a fleeting second, I’m invincible. Filled with pure power. And hope.
Knowing I’ll soon have to face my worst fear, a possible reality that will kill me in a way far worse than killing my mortal instrument, I try to escape it. I shift down a gear, testing the engine further and feeling cool wind drill through my body and hoping it will purge me of the pain. The guilt. The terror and dread. But the faster I speed, the faster the potentially grim, tortured reality pursues me. I realize I can’t outrun it. I can’t dull the razor-sharpness of thought. The finely-honed edge of fear.
June rides ahead of me, expertly handling her motorcycle and navigating winding and at times partially-paved roads. My fuel gauge reads that it’s nearly empty and I fear I won’t make it to Peter’s. If June is in the same predicament, she and I may find ourselves stranded. Fortunately, however, I begin to notice landmarks I recognize. And when we finally turn off onto a street, deserted long ago, I know we’ve made it. We’re at Peter’s home.
His house sits alone in the woods on a street where the few other houses there are dilapidated. His does not sag in disrepair as the others do, though. His is well-maintained after being essentially rebuilt. Sully and Oliver helped with the renovation. The single-story house with large, over hanging eaves and a long, low roofline is an L-shaped structure that is neat and tidy in appearance. The windows are dark. Seeing them makes me feel all the more guilty. Still, we park the bikes close to his house and make our way to the front door. Reaching out a hand that trembles with a full range of emotions, I knock on his front door.
“This is awful,” I whisper to June. “I feel so guilty! He’s got the new baby and here we are to deliver the news in the middle of the night!”
Before June can reply, the thud of footsteps approaching swiftly echoes from the other side of the door. A dark eye peers out from the peephole carved in the door. Within seconds, the door swings open and Peter is framed by the doorway, clutching a sword. As soon as he realizes who we are, the sword is lowered. “Avery! June!” Happiness fills his tone but his smile capsizes the moment it registers that we’re covered in blood and on his doorstep before sunrise. “Are you alright?” He steps toward us, leaning the sword against the house and embracing us simultaneously. He hugs us tightly. He smells of new baby. Of clean clothes and sleep. He smells like peace. And I’m here to destroy that. My heart sink like a stone. “What happened?” he asks.
“King Garan is dead,” I say.
Peter releases us so that he can see our faces. “What?” he breathes the word, horror and sadness and panic lacing the single syllable.
“His head was offered as a present to me at tonight’s celebration,” I say. In my mind’s eye I see it. I see it again. I see what was once the face of a kind, benevolent ruler twisted and contorted into an expression of abject fear and horror.
“No,” Peter says. He takes his head in both hands and collects himself for a moment. “Come in. Come inside.” He ushers us over the threshold. “Adele and the baby are sleeping,” he says as he closes the door behind us. Inside, the atmosphere is warm and inviting, a far cry from the world beyond its walls. It smells of food and sweetness. Of new baby and hope. Of life. “But please sit.” He gestures to a piece of furniture fashioned of wood and hay and fabric. June and I sit and he positions himself across from us in a chair. “Now tell me what happened.”
We tell him everything that happened from start to finish, careful to use quiet voices. He listens, shocked, placing his head into his hands multiple times. We do not leave out a single detail. When we’ve finished, Peter is left without words.
After several beats pass, he looks directly in my eyes and says, “I-I can’t believe this has happened. After all you’ve fought for. After how far we’ve come. To have it all...end.” His voice is haunted and his posture is dejected. I know exactly how he feels. I feel as he feels. Only my children and my husband are not with me. I don’t have that piece of mind. “It’s...I’m struggling with it.”
“So am I,” I admit. “I’m struggling with how I’ll find my boys and Sully, how I’ll find out if Prince Garan is alive, and how we’ll survive.” The words pour from me as if of their own volition, the confession effortless in the company of a dear friend.
Reaching out and spanning the space between us, Peter takes my hand in his. He looks at me with tear-filled eyes and says, “Avery, I can only imagine the pain and fear you feel. With my precious Ava asleep and Adele too, they are my world. The thought of not knowing whether they’re safe would be enough to drive me to madness. Not knowing whether they’re alive would kill me.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.
The tight, weighted feeling in the center of my chest grows more pronounced. “Thank you,” I say without knowing what else to say.
“How can I help? Do you need to stay here?” Peter asks.
“I can’t. I need to find my family,” I say determinedly. “I wanted to tell you what happened and to warn you.
“The Urthmen will come here looking eventually,” June adds.
I nod, agreeing. “They know we’re friends. Anyone who carried that title is in danger. Anyone who lives, that is.”
Peter shakes his head as if trying to right his thoughts. “But they don't know that I live here,” he says.
“Prince Garan does. He might have mentioned it to Cadogan at some point. We have no way of knowing,” I reply. “We have to operate on the assumption that the Prince did tell him so that you’re prepared, right?” My mind has been running nonstop since I left King Garan’s castle. Since the last time I saw William, John and Sully.
“You can’t stay here. It isn’t safe. No place is safe now,” June says as she leans forward, imploring Peter. “You need to come with us.”
“I'm not leaving here,” Peter replies firmly. “Adele and the baby can't travel so I need to protect them. We are staying here. And I suggest you do the same.”
“We can’t. I need to go and try to find my family,” I say, emotion thickening my voice.
“Where are you going? Where will you look?” Peter asks in a tone far softer than the one he used.
“The capital. Elian. William, John and Sully will be there if they’re alive.” I nearly choke on the words “if they’re alive”.
Peter pauses then nods thoughtfully. “How will you get there?” he asks. “You can't travel the roads leading there. You’ll be caught for sure.” His tone is contrite. His gaze keeps wandering from us to the hallway to his left. To where his wife and child sleep.
“I know,” I reply. “I was hoping you could help. You know the Urthmen territory better than anyone and we need a plan to get to Elian that bypasses all the major roadways. Can you help us figure out a route?”
Peter’s obsidian eyes glitter with sincerity. “Of course I will help you, Avery. You have saved my life so many times.” He shrugs. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” I say and mean it with all of my heart.
He sits, leaving us in silence as he thinks for a long time. Eventually, he says, “The only idea I’ve come up with is a nearly impossible one, but if there is anyone who could survive it it's you.” He levels an earnest look at me. “You lived in the forest for half of your life. Both of you.” He looks between June and I.
“We did,” June nods. Her expression is unreadable. I wonder if she’s recalling what survival in the forest was like compared to living in cities as we have for more than a decade. It is a harsh life. The elements. The creatures. The hunt for food and water.
“The Great Forest is in between the capital and here. You could cut through it and come out behind them. Behind their troops. They would never see you coming from that direction.”
“The Great Forest...” I think aloud. “I’ve heard of it I think. It is near here, right?”
“Not really. You would have to drive a few hours further west and enter from there, where there’s a slight break in the dense tree line.” His gaze grows distant as if envisioning the stretch of land. Then he asks, “Do you have vehicles? You must to have gotten here so fast.”
“We have motorcycles, but mine is out of fuel,” I say.
“Mine, too,” June adds.
“I have fuel. I can fill your tanks. That’s not a problem. And motorcycles are even better than a car or truck. You may even be able to travel through the forest with them if the brush isn't too thick. Plus leaving a car or truck on the side of the road would be the fastest way to announce your presence. The bikes are very good.” Peter unconsciously strokes his chin as he speaks, deep in thought. Then, in a voice that’s grave, he adds, “But it is Lurker territory. Lurkers and who knows what else. No one has even dared to ever travel through it. Not Urthmen and not humans.” He shakes his head, his expression sober. “I don't know how you’ll survive.”
“Oh my gosh,” June breathes.
Turning so that I look at her, I tell her with calm and conviction, “We will survive The Great Forest. We will get to Elian and find Sully and the boys.”
“Avery, it’s not like the forest in which you lived. The Great Forest is something completely different,” Peter says. As if intuiting the question rolling around in my brain like a burr, he adds, “No one’s lived to tell me how it’s different, but anyone who’s camped anywhere near it says the same thing: the forest feels alive.”
His words cause a shiver of unease to sweep up my spine. I wait for it to pass before I speak.
Linking a steadfast gaze with Peter’s, I muster the strongest voice I can that won’t wake his wife and newborn baby girl. “We will make it. We have to. But I need a map or something. I need to know where I’m heading.”
“I’ll take you,” Peter offers. “I’ll take you to the entrance of The Great Forest.”
“The Great Forest?” a female voice questions. All of us look up to the entryway between the room in which we sit and the hallway. Adele stands holding baby Ava. “What about The Great Forest? What’s going on?” She looks among all of us and no one answers. “Avery? June? What happened?” she asks.
Peter hesitates. His gaze flickers from me to June then finally to Adele. “A lot has happened, Adele. Too much to tell you about now. But I'll tell you later, I promise.” He smiles at her affectionately. “Please, go back to bed. You shouldn’t be up.” He stands and cups her elbow with one hand as he drapes the other over her shoulder. He tries to shepherd her back to bed. But Adele doesn’t move. “Adele, please. You need your rest.”
Adele’s eyes plead with Peter before she turns and leaves.
As soon as Adele is out of earshot, I say to Peter, “You aren't coming with us.”
“What?” he asks and sits where he was before. “Don’t be silly. Of course I’m coming.”
“No. You’re not, Peter. Your wife and child need you here,” I say and fight the clench of emotion in my throat.
“I agree with Avery. There’s no way we are letting you leave them,” June adds.
Peter sits quietly for a long moment then finally says, “Okay.” He nods. “Okay.” He heaves a sigh as if still wrestling with the decision he’s made. “I’ll draw you a map, and I have a compass. I stand and walk toward a table that has a length of bark pressed so thin it looks and feels almost like fabric. Using a thick piece of charcoal, he sets about drawing a rough map, explaining where to enter the forest that will give us the shortest distance to travel. Though he hasn’t traveled it firsthand, he’s able to diagram The Great Forest. When he’s finished drawing it and explaining it, he hands it to me.
“Thank you, Peter,” I say.
“I wish I could do more,” he replies.
“Don’t. You have your family here. They need you. That’s all that matters. Family is all that matters.”
“Yeah, Peter,” June says. “We appreciate all that you’ve done. Opening the door for us in the middle of the night, telling us about The Great Forest and mapping it...”
Peter nods and hugs us both. We follow him outside and he fills our gas tanks, as well as giving us as much extra fuel as our cargo baskets can carry. He runs back into the house only to return with food and water.
“Peter, I cannot thank you enough,” I say. I hug him tightly and silently beg the heavens above that I see him again soon. I hope against hope that all of us survive the process of extinction that’s restarted.
“Anything for you, my friend,” Peter replies.
June thanks him also.
“Be safe. I will see you again, my friends,” Peter says.
“We will see you again,” I promise, drawing deeply upon that hope once more.
June and I start our motorcycles and allow the engines to warm. Once they have, we leave Peter and a little bit of our past behind and speed off into the night. As we ride away, the hope I harbored deep within me that I’ll see Peter again transforms to a different kind of hope. A simpler one. I hope he lives. I only hope I haven't put him and his family in more danger.