This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

“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.

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.

“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.”

“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.”

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

“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.

“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.

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.

“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.

“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.”

“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.”

I reach out to her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” I say. “June, look at me.”

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?”

“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.

“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?”

“She’s a little nervous about being up so high,” Will says and rubs his sister’s back.

“You’ll be okay,” I say to Riley. “Your brothers and I will make sure of it, won’t we guys?” I say.

“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.

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.

“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.

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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

At the base of the enormous elm tree we took shelter in, I stretch the many kinks in my back and shoulders. I feel as if I have been beaten with a stick. Parts of me ache that I didn’t know were capable of aching in the first place, namely my backside. I would love to soak them in hot water until the pain eases. I remember stories of hot springs and heated indoor tubs of water that existed before the war. My dad used to tell June and I about them. So many tales had been shared from one generation to the next, tales of comfort and safety, of luxury that June and I will never know.

I roll my shoulders and rub my throbbing thighs and legs and silently wish we would stumble upon a hot spring. I would like nothing more than to submerge my sore body up to my chin and revel in the soothing heat. I daydream about what it would be like to indulge in such an experience, to feel the tension inside me, inside each and every muscle, melt and become one with the water. My eyes burn and feel as if they have sand particles in them. I allow my eyelids to slowly slide shut. I envision myself wrapped in warmth, in soothing ripples of comfort. My breathing becomes slow and steady. Little by little, I feel as if I am falling away from my body, as if my mind has separated from it and is floating away on a lazy river.

The rough, rigid bark of the tree trunk scrapes against my cheek as my temple knocks against it. It comes as a rude awakening in every sense of the expression. I realize I fell asleep while standing and keeled over into the tree.

My vision is blurry for a moment but I see that he is moving toward me quickly. I blink several times in an attempt to clear the haziness.

I am embarrassed beyond words. My head pounds in time with the rest of my limbs and my cheek stings from the scrape.

“I’m fine,” I say to Will quickly. “I just, uh, bumped my head,” I add and nod stiffly.

My cheeks are blazing. I can practically see the glow from them lighting the space in front of me. I curse my fair skin under my breath. If I were as fortunate as Will and his siblings to have a rich, olive skin tone my shame would be hidden better. But I do not. And skin tone is the least of my problems at the moment. Eating and getting our group moving so that we can find a suitable place for all of us to sleep is.

Will’s brows gather. “Are you sure? You look a little pale and your cheek is bleeding. Maybe you should sit for a minute.”

I am about to open my mouth and dismiss Will’s worries when June approaches and steps between him and me. “Let me take a look,” she says to me and sets about inspecting my cheek. “Oh, it’s fine. It’s just a little scratch. No big deal,” she comments casually then changes the subject completely. “I hate to be a pest, but shouldn’t we eat and start hiking?”

I am in awe of June’s tact, as well as her timing. I am grateful that she has not only diverted the attention from my humiliating face-first fall into the tree but also appears to have read my thoughts exactly. I want to scoop her up and hug her, but settle for offering her a small, sly grin instead.

“Yes June. You’re right. That’s exactly what we should do. Thank you.” My thanks are more sincere than they seem on the surface. I hope I did not overemphasize the words as I spoke them. I do not want Will to think I am not grateful for his concern. But I am not accustomed to fusses being made over me. “I’ll hunt for some breakfast for us and we can get out of here,” I say to June, then smile warmly at both her and Will. Animals have been easier to find farther away from our cave so hunting should not be an issue, a point that I am thankful for. In my condition, I doubt I could handle wandering too far, or worse, engaging in a lengthy chase.

June winks at me. “I’ll go see if Riley and Oliver want to help get a fire started so that when you come back, we are ready to cook,” she says then turns and heads to where Riley is inspecting what appears to be fangs just a few spear lengths away. I assume they belonged to the bat that tried to descend on us during the night. Perhaps they did not. Either way, whatever creature they belonged to, the fangs are all that remain of it. The Lurkers took care of the rest.

I scrub my face with both hands. As I lower them I murmur, “I don’t know if I’m okay.”

Will takes a step toward me. “Then why don’t you sit. I’ll hunt and you can just, I don’t know, be still for the first time since I’ve met you.”

“Huh, I don’t know if I can do that,” I say. “And for the record, I didn’t fall exactly. I fell asleep. Is that technically falling? Maybe it is,” I ramble.

Will’s eyes widen. His expression is equal parts concern and sympathy. “You haven’t slept in days,” he says. “Not at the cave and not in the tree.”

“Nope. And the night before you came was the first time the Lurkers spent the night howling and hissing just beyond our boulder.”

I watch as his lips press together tightly and form a line. I do not know whether he is angry, scared or worried, or a mix of all three. My thoughts are too fuzzy and muddled to identify his expression. I decide to ask him flat out. I am too tired to do anything else.

“Will, why do you look so mad? Are you mad or worried or something else? I am too out of it to tell. Just make it easy for me and tell me, because when you stand there looking like that, it confuses and upsets me.”

I cannot believe I just said what I said. I was direct, blunt even. My lack of social skills is glaringly obvious. Candid words haphazardly rushed from me, and I worry I have offended Will. We are linked together now. The last thing I want is to have a tense relationship with him. Allowing the first thing that comes to mind to heedlessly spill from my lips may have done just that.

A nervous moment passes between us, during which I contemplate attempting to smooth matters, knowing fully that doing so would likely be a debacle.

I am relieved when the corners of his mouth bend upward and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Mad?” he asks. “Why in the world would I be mad?” Will is shaking his head.

“Well I’m not mad. I’m worried. I want you to be well. You have done so much for me and my sister and brother. I want to help take care of you.”

Through the fogginess of my sleep-deprived confusion, I swear I heard him say he wants to help take care of me. I am not positive, but I think he did say those words. I do not know how to react to such a statement.

“Uh, thanks,” I say awkwardly. “That’s, uh, nice of you,” I add and bob my head. I probably look like a fool and know that my head is little more than a crimson blob with curly blonde hair attached to it. But I am too tired to care.

A small stretch of silence spreads between us. He looks from me to the woods, back to me, then the children, and back to me again.

“So, I guess I’ll go hunt,” I tell him when I cannot endure the self-consciousness I am feeling another second longer.

“Oh, no, you should stay here and rest,” he says and places a hand on my upper arm.

His touch is warm and pleasant. I want to close my eyes and savor it. I would likely fall asleep immediately again and collapse atop him so I do not dare.

“No, that’s okay. You’re tired too. You didn’t sleep the last two nights either,” I say.

And you watched both your parents die at the hands of Urthmen, I think to myself. The thought echoes in my brain so noisily that for a moment, I worry I spoke it aloud. I glance at Will to gauge his reaction. I see that he is still wearing a small smile and looking at me expectantly. I assume that if I had said what I thought, he would not look so serene.

“Good,” Will says and rubs my arm gently. The act makes goose bumps dot my flesh. His eyes lower to the roughened skin beneath his fingertips, and I realize that he notices them. “Are you cold?” he asks.

I step back, away from him. “No, I mean, yes. I uh, I just caught a chill. That’s all,” I fumble pathetically. I cannot tell him that every time my skin comes in contact with his I feel as if I am being covered in a blanket of pleasant tingles. Even in my exhaustion-induced stupor I know better than to admit that.

“Oh,” Will replies. His features are clouded by an expression I cannot name precisely. It is difficult to read faces when I have to concentrate so hard on not falling asleep or just falling in general. “As long as you’re okay,” he adds and smiles thinly.

Will inhales and opens his mouth to speak but closes it immediately. He waves me off. “Never mind,” he says.

He is acting strangely. I hope I have not done something to cause him to feel bad. He has lost his parents and is the sole guardian of his brother and sister. He has come under attack from Urthmen and had Lurkers scratching and clawing to enter the cave June and I took him to. He has had an extraordinarily awful few days. I do not want to make matters worse.

“Oh, okay,” I say and take a step toward the children. I cannot shake the sense that he is not telling me the truth, that he wanted to say something to me but changed his mind. I don’t know. Maybe it is just fatigue scrambling my brain. I let it go. “Be safe, Will. I’ll see you soon,” I say.

“Right,” June purses her lips and draws out each sound in the word. “And you believe him?”

“Okay, believe whatever you want to believe, but I think he wanted to tell you something important,” she persists.

“I don’t know all that. He just had a look on his face like he had something to say.” Her singsong voice suggests she is implying Will intended to make some major declaration. I don’t know what ideas are rattling around in her head, but I cannot entertain any of them. I worry what she thinks is right, that maybe Will planned to part ways with us and tell me as much before he went hunting. I don’t want to tell her and upset her because I am unsure. Regardless, I can’t handle the thought of him finding me, us, so repugnant he’d rather take his chances with his siblings than continue with us.

“Yes, June, he did, and he forgot what it was,” I say to try to end the conversation.

“And I think you’re wrong,” I say snippily. I catch myself and soften my tone. “Will and I have not slept in days. He watched his parents die at the hands of Urthmen and is now responsible for his sister and brother,” I say. “I’m pretty sure all that entitles him to a little forgetfulness.”

June’s cheeks are streaked with bands of pink. “When you put it that way,” she starts. I hear a tremor in her voice and immediately feel guilty for being sharp with her at first.

“I’m sorry, June. I’m grumpy and tired and achy. You don’t deserve to have me act like a jerk. You’re going through all this with me.” I pull her toward me and hug her tightly. “Sorry.”

June hugs me back. Her arms wrap around my waist tightly before she drops them and steps back.

“I’d better get the fire started before Will gets back,” she says and smiles.

The children and I light a small fire. Will returns shortly after and carries two rabbits by their feet. He and I skin and prepare the rabbits, then roast them. We eat quickly then sip from our canteens. Once the fire is extinguished and any evidence of its existence has been cleared, we begin hiking in hopes of finding a final place to stay for the night.

As I walk, I feel as if I am slogging through deep mud. My legs are heavy and my muscles ache. Too little sleep in the last several days has caught up with me. Spending the night in the tree did not help matters. We managed to survive, therefore my goal was achieved, but in many ways I feel as if I’m a dead person walking. My arms feel disconnected and leaden, as if they belong to someone else entirely, and my eyelids shutter closed every few minutes. I know that I can’t possibly spend another night in a tree. I do not have the strength to climb, much less keep June stable while clinging to branches. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that even if I somehow manage to make it high into a treetop and by some stroke of magnificent luck I’m able to steady June as we perch, I will fall asleep immediately and plummet to my death. No, the tree option is out of the question for tonight. That leaves me with few, if any, other choices. For the time being, however, I cannot focus on trees and places where we can’t stay. I must concentrate on getting us closer to the edge of the woods, to where weeds and wildflowers meet asphalt and concrete.

We walk for much of the day, pushing ourselves harder and faster than the day before. The sky is a chalky blue and the sun’s rays are weak. A soft breeze stirs tall grasses and treetops. The air carried on it is cooler, less humid. I search the landscape for mossy ridges and rocky formations for a second day. I do not see either. I do notice, though, that some of the leaves are beginning to lose their rich green coloring. When the leaves change from shades of green to shades of red, orange and yellow, I know shorter, colder days will follow. By then I hope we are living in a safer environment, protected from the elements and no longer concerned with Lurkers. I do not know whether my hope will become a reality. I will do everything in my power to see it come to fruition.

In the distance, I see that a stone wall rises from the ground. It encircles a building also made of stone, but with ones that are more uniform in shape and size and colored a faded reddish hue. With steep roof pitches and a bell tower that looks as if it pierces the milky sky above, I feel as if the elaborate sprawling structure is familiar. I feel as if I have seen it before.

“A stone wall that protects a building,” I say absently as my eyes roam the length of the wall that is visible. They search my memory in time with my brain.

“Yeah, a building Urthmen occupy for sure, and one we should get far away from before something terrible happens,” Will says and places a hand on my shoulder.

“What is it, Avery?” he searches my face as if he is seeing my mind piece together the puzzle.

“This wall, this place, I don’t know. Something about it is familiar to me,” I say. I look to the wall again and allow my eyes to travel along its perimeter. I strain them to see a chain-link gate with a giant padlock securing it shut. I lick my lips and my heart rate accelerates. Then recognition lands like a blow to my chest and nearly stops it from beating altogether. I place my hand over my heart and I know. I know exactly where I am. “Oh my gosh,” I breathe.

“This place,” I say breathlessly. “I know this place. This is where I used to live before the Urthmen stormed it and killed my mother and everyone else who lived here.”

Images flicker through my mind’s eye. Fragmented flashes and disjointed images streak by in a dizzying whirl. I see my mother, pregnant and beautiful, sitting with my father. Then I see chaos, and blood, so much blood. Clips of utter darkness follow, then a burst of light, and after that a club striking my mother again and again. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my temples. I try to consciously purge my mind of the memories blinking in my brain. But the building, the stone wall and the locked gate bombard my senses. Even the odd scent of musty leaves remains.

I feel Will’s hand on my shoulder again. He gives it a gentle squeeze. Reflexively, I reach over and place my hand atop his, just as I would do with June. But the feel of June’s skin never caused me to feel as if a miniature bolt of lightning passed between us as Will’s touch does.

“We need to get out of here,” Will says. “We need to get far away from this place.”

“I agree with Will,” June says. I hear her approaching. I drop my hand from where it rested on top of Will’s hand. “The building, the wall, the whole layout creeps me out.” Will drops his hand and I turn to face June. Her arms are wrapped around her waist again. She is hugging them to her body. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be near the place mom died.”

“Yeah, I’m with June. Stumbling on a small fortress loaded with Urthmen is not somewhere any of us should be,” Oliver says. There is hardness in his voice, an edge that borders rage and fear. I understand it. I feel it too. But a thought occurs to me.

I feel four sets of eyes on me instantly. I look at each of them then Will’s voice captures my attention.

“Urthmen stormed this place. Why would you think they would leave?” he asks.

The muscles around Will’s jaw are flexing. “I don’t follow,” he arches a dark eyebrow and says.

“Think about it,” I say. “There’s nothing for them here in the forest.” I search Riley and Oliver’s faces then look at June. “Unless you count Lurkers hunting you every day from sunset to sunrise,” I add sarcastically. But no one finds my sarcasm amusing in the least, not even Will. His arms are folded across his chest and his features are gathered. He looks serious.

“What about it?” I shrug and do not quite get where he is going with his question.

I hold his gaze briefly. He has made a decent point. But I’m still unconvinced that Urthmen live within the walls of the stronghold. “I’m going to see why it’s locked. I’m going to take a closer look,” I say impulsively. My statement draws gasps and grumbles.

“No! Avery, you can’t,” June cries out, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Please, don’t go. It’s too dangerous.”

“So is staying out here,” I say and cringe at the expression on her face after the words leave my lips. I soften my tone. “It will be dark soon,” I remind her. “And we don’t have a place to stay for the night yet.”

“You and I both know I can’t spend another night in a tree, not if I want to live until morning, at least,” I admit truthfully.

“Then it doesn’t have to be a tree. We can come up with something else, anything. Just don’t go near that place,” she pleads.

I want to shout at her Look around June! Do you see anything remotely resembling a safe place to spend the night? But I don’t. I know my short temper is just fatigue getting the better of me. So I say nothing. I turn and start walking toward the gate before the stone wall. I ignore the whispered attempts to call me back, even Will.

I streak through the tall grasses and weeds and remain low, crouched. I hide in bushes when I am close. I look back, over my shoulder and see that both June and Will wear similar expressions. They both look furious. Their brows are furrowed and their lips are pursed. June’s hands are on her hips and Will’s arms are folded tightly across his chest with his fists balled. His is pacing back and forth, shaking his head slowly. When June sees that I am watching her, she gestures for me to come back before tapping Will’s shoulder and alerting him to my position. He begins gesturing animatedly as well. I do not heed their calls. Instead, I turn away and dash toward the wall. I press my back to the cool, rough stone and inch my way closer to the gate.

When I am right beside it, I steal a glance and chance being seen. My head darts out then back quickly. But I am able to make out an empty space. No one is milling about, none that I saw, that is. I wait a few seconds and am about to return to Will, June, Oliver and Riley and endure stern lectures when the faint sound of footsteps is accompanied by a shape flashing in my periphery.

I spin and see what appears to be a man. I retreat and pull back, but curiosity nags at my brain. I need to know whether my eyes deceived me, whether I did, indeed, see a human. I poke my head out and look again, only this time I focus on the being’s head. I see that it is shaped properly. It is oval in appearance and has hair, therefore it is a human being, not an Urthman.

I tuck my head and body back behind the concealment of the wall. My breath catches in my chest. A human is living at the compound I used to call home before Urthmen seized it. I begin to fantasize that Urthmen left immediately after storming the village and that humans happened upon it and repopulated. I know it is a farfetched dream, but it gives me hope in an otherwise hopeless world.

My heart rattles loudly in my chest. I cannot resist looking again. I thrust my head out again and am shocked to see two more humans. I can tell both are male thanks to the long shaggy beards they wear. The men are armed and appear to be patrolling the wall. I realize I must make my presence known. If there are more like them, the children and I, along with Will, could ally ourselves with them. The prospect energizes me. But before I call them over and share with them my plan, I gesture to Will to stay where he is, to wait and remain hidden. I need to make sure it is safe to proceed. I need to get a sense of how these humans operate without putting my sister and friends at risk.

I take a deep breath and step away from the wall. I place myself directly in front of the gate and say, “Hello!” in a loud clear voice.

The three men startle, then freeze in their tracks and turn to face me. They stare, still motionless, looking completely shocked for several beats until one of them makes his way to the gate followed by the others.

The closer they come, the better able I am to see their faces. I immediately notice that they look much older than I do. Their skin is weathered looking and ashen in color. Teeth are missing and their clothing is filthy.

A tall, meaty man with frizzy hair the color of rust smiles broadly at me and reveals his front tooth is missing. “Oh gosh! Wow! Where’d you come from?” he says and does not hide the surprise and excitement in his voice. He does not wait for me to speak, and continues to rattle on.

“Sorry to react as I did a second ago. It’s just that we don’t see many other humans around here,” he says.

“I’m Ross, by the way. And this is Tal,” he says and points to a lanky man with small eyes and a prominent nose, “and this is Jay,” he says and points to a shorter, sturdier looking man with stringy hair that falls to the middle of his back and several teeth missing on the bottom who looks a good fifteen years older than I am. They all appear to be at least fifteen years older than I am. And while they look creepy and in desperate need of a soak in the nearest river, their greeting is warm and welcoming.

“We’re very happy to meet you, Avery,” Ross says. He exchanges a sidelong glance with Jay and uneasiness scurries across my skin that I cannot quite explain. “It’s always good to find another survivor,” he continues. “How did you manage to survive out here all by yourself?” he asks.

His question is one I would ask as well, and a harmless one at that, still I can’t shake the suspicious feeling scuttling about when I hear his voice and watch the three men interact wordlessly with one another. They seem friendly enough on the surface. And they are humans. The experience of living among humans when I was young has taught me that humans are not out to hurt other humans. We stick together when we find one another. We have shared interests; we all share common enemies: Urthmen and Lurkers. I have no reason not to trust them.

Ross’s features gather. His concern seems genuine when he says, “I suggest you get them in here before something happens to them. These woods aren’t safe. Those hideous creatures prowl these woods at night, and we saw Urthmen not far from here scouting. Out in the open is no place to be if you want to live.” He clutches his weapon and his eyes look off into the distance.

“No, I guess they’re not,” I agree with a shiver. “I’ll get my friends,” I tell them.

I step back and check the cluster of bushes Will, June Oliver and Riley are hiding behind, then whistle once, a flat, monotone sound. June’s head sticks out first. I catch her eye and her face brightens. I wave my arms and gesture for her and the others to join me. She hesitates at first, but eventually grabs hold of Will’s arm and leads him toward me with Riley and Oliver in tow.

Everyone appears skeptical as they draw near. June’s eyes round when she sees how unkempt Ross, Tal and Jay look and Riley recoils when they greet her. Their reactions do not go unnoticed by the men. I cringe inwardly when Ross’s expression withers and he looks down at his clothes self-consciously. Will nudges me lightly. I am sure there is something we should say at this point, some excuse that justifies the children’s reactions. But both of us come up empty. I shift my weight from one leg to the other and consider grabbing the kids and venturing out again when Ross’s gravelly voice rumbles.

“You’ll have to excuse my appearance, kids. If I’d known I was going to have guests today, I would have cleaned up a bit,” Ross says. “We don’t have a river nearby so we don’t get to wash as often as we should. Just know that Jay smells the worst. I’d be sure to steer clear of him if I were you,” he says and bobs his eyebrows before grinning.

Oliver laughs while June and Riley giggle nervously. Hearing their laughter eases my nerves somewhat. The ice has been broken.

Will flinches and opens his lips to undoubtedly reprimand his younger brother, but Ross speaks first.

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air and pressure begins to build at my temples. The moment is so awkward I could scream.

Will shoots him a stern look and starts to interject when Ross says, “What? My teeth! I lost teeth? Oh no!” Ross runs his hands through his wiry, shoulder-length hair and frets exaggeratedly. The children look stunned until Ross throws them a sly smile filled with mischief. “Gotcha!” he says and points both index fingers at Oliver then Riley and lastly June.

Tension seeps from my body and I exhale the breath I’d been holding. Will’s shoulders lower, the strain in his posture relaxes visibly. I feel his fingers grip my wrist and give them a gentle squeeze. I take his gesture as a signal of his approval.

The children’s hands rocket into the air as they mutter that they are starving.

“We haven’t eaten since this morning,” Oliver says, but Ross does not look at him. His eyes are on June. A small frown drags the corners of his mouth downward. She is thin, painfully so. Our continual hiking and meager food supply has taken a toll on her. She looks frail. Ross reaches out a hand toward her and reflexively my hand flies behind me to the hilt of my sword. It is unsheathed before his fingertips graze her shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa,” Ross says and splays his hands out in front of his body in surrender. “I don’t intend to hurt the girl,” he says and steps away from June with the same caution a person moves away from a wild animal. “Please, put your weapon away. We can’t have visitors with weapons within the walls of this compound. We are a peaceful people, and we intend to keep it that way.”

My cheeks blaze and beads of sweat dot my brow. Slowly, I lower my sword and watch as the men around me relax then exchange furtive glances. “Sorry,” I say halfheartedly. “We haven’t come across humans in quite some time,” I lie and neglect to share that Will, Oliver and Riley are new to June and I. “June is my sister and it is my job to protect her,” I say flatly.

“I understand,” Ross says. “But we are humans, just as all of you are. We’re not the enemy. We’re not who you have to worry about.”

His words make sense. I know they are true, but when it comes to June, logic ceases to exist.

“Fair enough,” I say and sheathe my sword at the scabbard on my back. Ross watches me do so, then his eyes roam my body and rest on the dagger at my thigh. My lips press to a hard line and my eyes are narrow when his gaze returns to them.

“It’s just about time for dinner,” Ross directs his attention to the children once again. “You are all welcome to join us.”

I watch as all three men move in closer. I suddenly feel as if the air around me has thickened, that the temperature has jumped suddenly.

“You see,” Ross begins. “We do not allow weapons beyond this point. No strangers are allowed to set foot inside if he has a knife, bow and arrow, sword or any other kind of weapon on his person,” he says and gestures over his shoulder toward the building.

My stomach bottoms out. I have never willingly parted with my weapons. This would be the first time ever.

“I don’t know,” I think out loud. “I’m not sure how I feel about that,” I say and hear the steely suspicion in my voice.

“I don’t know how to say this politely so I’m going to just lay it on the line here,” Ross says and smiles almost apologetically. “I have no intention of harming you or any of you friends or kin. I’m unarmed. I am not a threat. But if you step inside the walls of our compound armed, you are a threat, and I cannot allow it.” Ross rubs his hand over his face as if he is truly troubled by what he has said or what he plans to say next. “It’s your choice. You can either give me your weapons, or leave.”

His words are like a blow to my gut. My eyes immediately go to Will. His expression is unreadable. In my periphery, I see that the sun is about to set and the sky is dimming fast. Ross has not offered us much of a choice at all. He has essentially told us that we can give up our weapons and enjoy food and shelter or keep our weapons and take our chances at twilight with Lurkers waking from their daytime slumber.

“Considering that evening is just about here, I don’t have much of a decision to make,” I say levelly. “We will be torn to pieces by Lurkers, uh, I mean the creatures that come out when the sun sets, before we’re able to find shelter for the night.”

When Will hands over the club he took from the Urthmen who stormed his cave by the lake, I am shocked. He turns to me as soon as it is out of his hands.

Ross hands the club to Tal and Tal leads us to a metal cabinet. Using a key attached to chain on his belt he unlocks the cabinet and places the club on an empty shelf.

“See,” Tal says. “All of our weapons are here. Every person who stays here has surrendered his blade, spear or stick.”

I scan the shelves and see that knives and bludgeons of every size and shape are arranged neatly on the top shelves. Daggers, spears and swords occupy the lower shelves.

“Come on, Avery,” Will’s hot breath fans across my neck when he leans in to whisper to me. “I’m not happy about it either, but think about June and Riley, about Oliver and me, about you,” he tries to convince me.

Reluctantly, I pull my dagger from the case on my thigh, and with a hesitant hand, I turn it over to Ross. A grin stretches across his face and crinkles the skin around his eyes. Next, I surrender my spear, then last, my sword. I feel naked, stripped of any means of protecting June and I.

“Excellent,” Ross says as Tal places our armaments in the cabinet then locks it. He twists and faces the children then says, “Now that all that boring grown-up stuff is over, we can finally eat and meet the rest of the people here.” He uses a silly voice as he continues to speak to them and lead them inside. Tal and Jay follow.

We continue down a long, narrow corridor and follow the scent of burning brush and cooking meat. I remember that the main area that was used as a dining hall had a fire pit. It is surreal that I have returned to where I spent so many years as a child, to a place where I once felt safe and happy. I feel neither now.

“What do you think?” Will asks and moves so close to me his lips almost brush my earlobe.

I do not know how to express the leeriness I feel. It is unjustified. Yet I cannot shake it. Perhaps it is the fact that my mother and so many others were butchered here not long ago. Perhaps it is the three days of sleep deprivation finally catching up to me. Perhaps it is both. Perhaps it is neither. All I know is that my nerves feel frayed.

“I’m thinking I just made a huge mistake handing over my weapons,” I say bluntly in a quiet voice.

“Why? They’re humans, like us. They have no reason to hurt us. They’re on our side,” he replies.

A few moments pass as I consider what he’s said. After all, he has come across more humans than I have. He and his family were the first in recent years.

We continue to walk until we reach a room set with a makeshift table composed of long wooden slats aligned side by side. My heart leaps to my throat as the arrangement brings to mind flashbacks that echo through my mind with aching clarity. I remember eating here as a child, the setup is nearly identical.

June, Riley and Oliver marvel at what they see, at all the people in front of them. Even Will’s jaw drops. I wish I felt as they do. I wish I could look on in wide-eyed wonder. But I can’t. I do not feel excited in the least. All I see is the bloodshed of persons past, my people, and strangers. We are grossly outnumbered, and without my weapons, I worry I have made a mistake that will cost us our lives.

Ross ushers us deeper into the dining area. With every step I take, my unease grows. I do not understand it fully. I cannot explain it. I just feel anxiety swelling inside of me. When Ross finally stops in front of a table filled with five men, all caked in filth and disheveled in appearance, a tremor passes through me that causes my stomach to roll. The men spring to their feet. I flinch instinctively and take note of their appearances. I notice one of them looks as if he isn’t much older than Oliver. The rest are older and rougher looking.

A series of pleasantries volley around the table and Tal begins naming the men before us. But I’m unable to concentrate on names. A penetrating pair of bloodshot, heavily-creased eyes is on me. The gaze belongs to the oldest, mangiest looking man among those at the table.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” the old man smacks his lips together and says. His eyes rake up and down my body in a way that makes my temper flare wildly. Heat rips from my insides and rockets to my extremities. I feel as if I am on fire. I am trembling. My hand automatically flies to my shoulder, expecting to touch the hilt of my sword. Finding that my sheath is empty, my sword absent, fuels the fire further with panic.

“All right, dad, enough,” Tal says as if he is speaking to a naughty child. His tone is mildly annoyed, as is his expression, when he looks at whom he addressed as ‘dad’, the same man who leered at me as if I were a side of roasted boart meat and he was a starved man. Tal’s eye move from his father to me, and he says, “Avery, please excuse my father. He hasn’t seen a pretty girl in a long time. He seems to have forgotten how to behave,” he finishes with a look of warning to the old man.

I do not respond verbally. I simply nod with a harsh look on my face, one that indicates that I do not excuse his father’s behavior.

Ross and Tal banter amicably with the men at the table for a short time. While they do, I look at June and Riley. They seem completely at ease in their new environment, a fact that worries me beyond measure. My eyes settle on Oliver next. He is looking every which way as he examines the interior of the dining hall. He does not share my concern, and he does not seem bothered by the old man’s comment and demeanor. But when my gaze travels to Will, I see that worry shrouds his features. His eyes lock on mine and his gaze becomes intense, as if he is trying to convey a silent message to me.

I do not know what he is trying to communicate. I wish I did. I concentrate on his face. But his attention snaps in another direction when more people step into the room. Three women, who are stooped, old and worn out looking, shuffle in. Their clothes are tattered and stained and in far worse condition than the men. They enter hesitantly, taking jerky, unsure strides. I watch them and find it odd that none among them makes eye contact or so much as acknowledges anyone in the room as they shuffle along.

Though they keep their heads down for much of the time while they heft trays laden with food, occasional glances steal our way, and I swear that shock registers on the women’s faces but they are afraid to say as much. Children trail after them. I count six in all. The children look as if they range in age from two to six. Another old woman lumbers inside. She is carrying an infant in each arm. I wonder who the children belong to. The appearances of the women suggest they are of advanced age and far past their childbearing years. The entire situation seems off.

“Ladies!” his voice booms authoritatively. All of the women freeze, and the children following nearly slam into their backsides as they clumsily try to make a sudden stop. The women’s apprehension is obvious. It radiates from them like heat rising from the earth on a hot day. Their eyes remain glued to the ground while Ross continues. “Ladies, I’d like you to meet our new guests.”

His words are harmless enough, but something in his tone shrieks through me like metal scraping metal. They carry an unspoken warning, a threat of violence that quivers in the air.

“This is Will, Oliver, Riley, June, and Avery,” Ross says, pointing to each of us as he says our names.

The women glance up. Their shoulders hook forward further. They barely look at Will, Oliver, Riley, June and I. They mumble nervous hellos then quickly cast their eyes back to the ground.

Warning screams through me. I cannot pinpoint what is happening, what the reason is for the women’s timid behavior. All I know is that something is not right. I decide to ask the first question that pops into my mind when I see them disappear through a doorway, out of the dining area, all the while with Ross’s watchful gaze bolted to them.

Ross tears his eyes from the entryway the women just slipped through then looks at me absently. “Huh?” he asks.

“Ah, no,” the old man who was said to be Tal’s father answers with a chuckle. “Nobody wants to look at their ugly faces while they eat. Ha!” he laughs and puffs out his chest, proud of the joke he thinks he’s made.

“Dad, that’s not true,” Tal says tightly and shoots his father a grim look. “They just prefer to eat in the kitchen with their children.” He looks at me again and offers an unnatural smile.

“Their children, as in those babies belong to them?” I ask incredulously. The words spill from me before I can stop them. My shock at his statement overwhelms me too quickly.

Tal’s smile falters for a split second. “Yes, they do,” he answers after immediately regaining his composure. “Those women aren’t as old as they look. They’ve just had hard lives.”

His statement surprises me almost as much as the slightly embarrassed look on his face. He shifts uncomfortably and begins a conversation about tales his parents told him about how women and men used to pamper themselves before the war.

“My father and mother shared stories they’d heard from their ancestors through the generations about all sorts of things men and women used to do when human beings ruled the planet,” Will commands the attention of a small group of men from the compound. Little by little, I am getting edged out of the circle. “They would go to places called salons and have chemicals put on their hair, poison really, that would change its color or texture.” A ripple of laughter erupts along with a series of affirmations that a few among them had heard similar accounts. “Yeah, and if that’s not enough, they would go to places and have stuff injected into their faces to try to make themselves look younger.”

“I remember hearing something like that from my grandpa,” the old man, Tal’s father, says. “Wish someone could’ve saved some of that junk. We sure could use it here,” he says and laughs so hard he is beset by a coughing fit.

“Yeah, we could use it on the hags in the kitchen!” an unfamiliar voice chimes in. “That would make things a lot easier for us.”

My insides simmer. I wonder what exactly the man’s last sentence is supposed to mean. How would the women’s appearances make anything easier for them? I would love to ask, but Will is still addressing them.

“The way people acted centuries ago, it’s no wonder the world collapsed. Humans back then were completely crazy!” Will says.

Hoots and laughter break out all around me. The moment seems surreal. I am supremely uncomfortable and Will, who I thought shared my nervousness about the men, has officially been accepted by just about every man in the room. I try to catch his eye as he is led to the table and offered a pile of what looks to be boart meat. June and Riley sidle up next to me while Oliver is swept away on the all-male current. When they are seated, we sit and do not wait to be served. We fill a plate with meat and eat.

“I hear women used to have people suck the fat from their backsides and shoot it into their lips,” Tal’s father says as his gravelly voice rises above the others. He puckers his lips and forces them outward. “They would look like this and think they were pretty,” he struggles to talk while holding his mouth positioned as it is which causes an eruption of laughter.

“Oh man, you look like you have duckbill or a fish lips or something,’” one of the men says.

“He does!” Will agrees and bangs the table with his hand as he doubles over laughing.

“Don’t matter, you still look better than those crones in the kitchen!” the man who made the duck comment says and is laughing so hard tears stream from the corners of his eyes.

Food and spittle sprays from the men’s mouths and the scene becomes one marked by ugliness in all its forms. Seeing Will, gorgeous, golden Will, among them seems incongruous. I don’t know what I’m more offended by, the men’s behavior, their words, or the fact that Will is immersed in both, and is right at the center of it all.

Apparently, I am not alone in noticing this. However, I am alone in feeling discomfited by it.

“Will sure is popular,” June says with a smile. “Everyone seems to really like him.”

“Avery, what’s the matter?” June asks. “I thought you’d be thrilled to find so many people.”

“It’s everything, the women, how they reacted to Ross and Tal and the others,” I start but my voice is drowned out by a roar of laughter that explodes all around us.

“How are you holding up?” I try to ask her, but can barely hear the sound of my own voice. “I know you didn’t want to come here,” I lean in and say a little louder. I want to gauge her opinion of this place, of the people, but she seems absorbed by the noise and number of humans surrounding us.

When June’s attention does not return to me immediately, I decide to keep my thoughts to myself. The possibility still exists that I am just overly paranoid due to a lack of sleep.

I eat silently and tune into the conversations around me from time to time. I remain vigilant though. I try to scrutinize every move the people around me make, try to analyze their intentions. It is draining, to say the least. I have had little interaction with humans unrelated to me, and that was limited to when I was a child of about June’s age, ironically, when I lived within the walls of the compound I sit in now. I find myself wishing my social skills were as razor sharp as my battle skills.

“So where’s your kin, your mom and dad?” Tal’s father asks. His question is ordinary enough, but it is his demeanor, the way he regards me, that gets under my skin. He examines me as if he is able to see through my clothes and lay eyes on my bare flesh.

“Dead,” I offer a simple one-word answer. I have no desire to chitchat on the subject of losing my parents. And the fact that June is my sister is obvious given our many similarities even if I hadn’t told Tal and the others earlier.

Halfhearted condolences are offered by the few men near me then they resume conversing with one another.

While the inquiries are scarce, the lingering stares are abundant. They last longer than curious glances. I cannot put my finger on what exactly it is about the men that has me unnerved. So they’re looking at me, what’s the big deal? Maybe Tal was right. Maybe the men are acting strangely because they haven’t seen many women in their lives. Trying to convince myself of that is difficult.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Will smiles warmly at me several times while we are in the eating area. He seems to be relaxed and enjoying himself. Why that irks me as much as it does remains a point I wish to examine further. I also wish I could ask Will what prompted his turnaround. If I didn’t know any better and was seeing him for the first time with the men around him, I would think he’d spent his entire life with them. But I can’t now, not when there is a crowd of strange men leering at me. I hope I am wrong about them, that everything is a figment of my exhausted imagination, and that being peeved with Will is encompassed in that. He looks as if he is having a good time. I wish I could say the same for myself. But I can’t. I do not feel as if I have his support, and that leaves me perplexed, and angry.

I chew my meat but bitterness continues to rise in the back of my throat. Forcing myself to eat is necessary. I need to attempt to keep my strength intact. So I keep going, swallowing bite after bite, all the while I watch and listen.

When I finish, I look around and see that most of the men are leaning back, their assorted array of bellies round and full. I am still rattled by the circumstances. That feeling is compounded when the women return and clear the tables. They file out from the doorway they disappeared through and dutifully remove the metal saucers on which our food was served. As they do, they do not make eye contact or say a word. But when the women are close to me, I am able to look at them closely. I examine their skin. It looks thin and heavily creased and bears an unhealthy grayish pallor. Their complexions look as if they have not seen sunlight in many years. I purposely place my face directly in the line of vision of one of them. Her eyes flicker from my face to the table then back to me. Desperation scrawls lines around her mouth and forehead. Despair flashes in her dull irises before burning out like a tiny ember in rain.

The expression haunts me. I cannot focus on the rest of the time I spend in the dining area. When Ross speaks directly to me, I must ask him to repeat himself as I am lost in thought, trying frantically to decode what I saw in the woman’s eyes.

For a moment, my mind scrambles to figure out what he means by cottage. I realize he is talking about the huts in which villagers used to live.

“Thank you,” I say and nod stiffly. I do not trust myself to say anything more. Without my weapons to protect us, I will not risk saying anything that might get us killed.

We are led down a long hallway and out into an open courtyard. Small structures with thatched roofs continue for as far as I can see.

“Is this where I was born?” June asks me with quiet wonder in her voice. She has stopped walking while the others continue toward a nearby hut.

“Yes, this is where you were born and lived for the first two years of your life,” I reply, but wonder does not shade my words. Hurt does.

We continue walking until we reach the entrance to the place we will rest for the night.

“Here we are,” Ross says and grins so wide his smile turns frightening. He splays one hand out at his side to showcase the cozy interior of the hut lit by what I guess is an animal fat-fueled lantern. “You should all enjoy a night of deep, worry-free sleep. Two men will be on the wall patrolling. But don’t worry, Lurkers don’t live this close to the edge of the forest, and even if they did,” he adds with pride, “They wouldn’t be able to make it over the wall.”

He did not build the wall, yet his demeanor suggests he assumes credit for it. I met the men who placed each stone by hand. They were good and decent men who walked for miles in sweltering temperatures to wash their clothes in rivers and hunt to feed the village. Women and children ate with men, and no one wore looks of anguish on their faces without illness or death as a cause. The men who built the wall were not like Ross at all.

“Thank you,” Will says to Ross and clutches his shoulder familiarly. “This is terrific. We are grateful for your hospitality.”

Will turns and looks over his shoulder at me, as if prompting me to add to what he’s said.

An irritable expression races across Ross’s face like a storm cloud overtaking a clear sky. He recovers quickly, but not before narrowing his eyes at me.

“Okay then,” he says and claps his hands loudly. “Have a good night and I’ll see you all in the morning.”

Ross turns and leaves us in the hut. The children set about inspecting a stack of sleep sacks that are in much better condition than the ones June and I had. I immediately move toward Will and tug his arm. I pull him out of earshot from the children.

“What is going on with you?” I do not waste time and demand. “I thought you were as freaked out as I am, what with the women and the weird interaction and everything,” I say sharply.

“What am I talking about?” I unleash on him. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t you remember how that old guy looked at me when we first got here? And what about the children, the babies, with those old women, none of that strikes you as odd?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When the door swings open, I nearly cry out with joy. But time for celebration does not exist for me. I have my spear, my dagger, my sword and Will’s club when two men round the corner and head my way. I dart off in another direction as I see them begin to run. I drop everything except my sword. I clutch it tightly, excited to be armed again and looking forward to fighting the first man who confronts me. These men are no better than Urthmen. They abuse women and children. They are monsters in their own right.

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

I recognize Ross immediately. Ross. I spit his name in my mind like venom. He is the one who duped us into surrendering our weapons. He is the one who likes little girls. My body begins to tremble with fury. He is breathing heavy from running and makes the first move, hefting his blade clumsily. I sidestep his swing easily and pause for a moment, staring at him. He awkwardly attempts to slice me a second time, but again, I avoid being hit with ease.

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

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

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

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

The momentum of my spear causes Tal to lurch backward. His weapon falls and he staggers a moment, stunned before he frantically tries to dislodge the object from his neck. I see it in a blur as I run full speed toward Will, see his legs cave from beneath him then his body flop back. I don’t stop, though, and immediately toss Will his club. Oliver is on the ground unconscious and the girls are huddled together crying. But I cannot attend to any of them yet. Will grips his club.

“Oliver, are you all right?” he calls to his brother. But Oliver does not answer. “What’s happening?” he asks.

My shoulder is touching his and I do not take my eyes off either Jay or Tal’s father. “They were going to kill you and Oliver and do some sick things to June, Riley and me, weren’t you?” I address the men.

Jay laughs cruelly. “We still are,” he says. “What makes you think you’re getting out of here?”

“I wouldn’t bother,” I say in a voice so level and venomous it sounds foreign to my ears. “No one is coming to help you. I took care of them already.”

“Liar!” Jay shouts and spittle sprays from his thin lips. “There’s no way a skinny little girl like you took down any of my boys.”

“Believe what you want. Your boys aren’t coming. They all look pretty much like Tal looks right about now.”

My words frenzy Tal’s father. He moves to attack me while Jay attacks Will simultaneously. From the corner of my eye, I see that Will avoids Jay’s advance and easily clubs him in the back of the head. The blow sends him to the ground and renders him unmoving. I dodge the old man’s strike as well.

“Drop your sword old man,” Will advises Tal’s father when he is at my side once again. The fight is now two against one.

Then the old man does something unexpected. He lowers his sword. His eyes glaze for a moment and he places his free hand over his heart. He pitches and staggers and positions himself over Oliver. His gaze shines with a sinister delight when he appears to reclaim awareness and no longer totters about. He looms over Oliver and is about to drive the tip of his blade straight through the boy’s heart.

“No!” I shout and heave my sword forward. It drills through the old man’s torso and he drops his weapon. Will descends on him and delivers a deadly final knock to his skull.

I rush to Oliver and place two fingers to the base of his neck. I feel a steady pulse.

“He’s alive,” I tell Will. But Will is standing over the old man who has fallen to the dirt floor.

I leave Oliver where he is. June takes my place and helps him to his feet. I get to the first man Will struck, Jay. I repeat the process I performed on Oliver, only this time I do not detect a throbbing at the base of the man’s neck.

Will drops his club and rakes both hands through his hair. He is pacing and clearly distraught. “I killed a human. I can’t believe I killed a human being,” he mutters. He sinks to his knees and looks as if he may be ill.

I sheathe my sword and kneel. I cup Will’s perfect face in my hands and force him to look at me. “That man you killed and the men I killed were no better than Urthmen. They were monsters all the same.”

Will dips his chin and leans into me, resting his head in the space between my neck and shoulder. His arms grip me, embracing me tightly. He begins to cry. I hold him where he is.

All of us have suffered. We are drained emotionally and physically. Life continues to take its toll on us with each day that passes. I wonder how high the price will go, how much we will have to sacrifice before something gives. These thoughts, and so many others, tumble through my brain. They are too much to handle. So I release them and exist in the moment I am in. I clutch Will snugly and feel our tears mingle.

I lift my chin from where it is perched on Will’s head and see a boy running toward us with his blade in hand. I release Will immediately and leap to my feet, recognition striking through my body like a bolt of lightning. I scoop up my sword and ready myself. The boy approaching was at the table when we first arrived in the dining hall. He’d been quiet when I first met him. Much has changed since then.

“What did you do?” he demands. His voice is hoarse and raw, laced with sadness and hate. “You killed my father! You killed all my fathers!” he screams and swings his blade in my direction.

I block his swing easily and thrust my sword as our blades collide, placing all of my weight behind it. The boy pitches backward and totters for a moment.

The boy’s chest is heaving. His cheeks are red and his eyes are wild. I know he is hurting, but his pain is not my problem at the moment. Especially since his father, one of the men my blade claimed, intended to kill Will and Oliver, and enslave June, Riley and myself.

In my periphery, I see Will streak by. He is behind the boy within seconds and grabs him in a bear hug. The boy’s weapon falls to the ground with a loud clang.

“You killed him,” the boy cries and resembles a trapped mammal. “You killed them all!” He flails and thrashes for a moment, but Will holds tight.

“Your father and the others attacked us,” I say flatly once the boy is still. “And I think you know that’s what they planned all along. You knew what they were going to do. I defended my family and me,” I add and hear how easily I include Will, Oliver and Riley in my family despite knowing them for a short while.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Will tells him. “But you need to be calm. No one is going to hurt you, okay?”

The boy nods feebly before Will lowers his arms. I do not wish for more bloodshed. All of us have witnessed enough. I am relieved when, once freed, the boy rushes to where Tal’s body is slumped as opposed to attempting to engage me in battle again. He cries and drapes his body across him, and a small corner of my heart clenches tightly.

Will closes his eyes and slowly shakes his head from side to side. I can imagine the thoughts racing through his mind. The loss of his parents is so fresh in his mind, it is a wonder he has not fallen apart completely. I move toward him and place a hand on his back. But my hand slips away quickly when movement to my side demands my attention.

I spin in time to see a haggard face staring back at me. Scraggly lengths of wiry gray hair frame a face creased and leathered by time and elements. Watery eyes the color of soot squint at me then beyond me, to where the boy cries. The haggard face is joined by several others who shuffle and stop beside her. The women I saw earlier, the ones who carried trays of food and cleared the table after we ate, have returned.

“What happened here?” the one closest to me asks and points with a gnarled finger toward the fallen bodies. Her voice drips with what can only be described as glee.

I glance at Will then back to the woman. “They attacked the wrong people, I guess,” I say levelly.

A throaty cackle breaks out spontaneously but is stifled almost as quickly as it began. Silence befalls the women. I notice the first touch her right hand to her forehead then her belly then to her left shoulder and right. She then joins her hands so that her fingertips form a steeple and her palms are pressed together. She turns her eyes skyward.

Some of the women nod reverently while others bow their heads. I haven’t the slightest idea what is happening or why they are behaving so peculiarly. I look at the old woman who gestured with her hands, puzzled. I look to the sky and wonder what or to whom she spoke.

“Uh, my name is Avery, not Lord,” I say politely. “None of us is named Lord,” I add, mindful of the fact that she is old and likely mistook my name for another.

The old woman chuckles softly. The sound rumbles from somewhere deep inside her chest. It is an odd, but not entirely unpleasant, sound. “I know you are not the Lord,” she says.

Her words confuse me further. I glance at Will. He looks as baffled as I am. “Okay, then who are you talking to?”

“We are talking to God,” the old woman replies. “We are thanking him for delivering us from the evil that has imprisoned us for years.” She speaks with a quiet respect and peace that I have never heard another speak with. I find myself wanting to learn more about God and how she helped them.

“Who’s God?” I ask and feel my brows knit. “Does she live here too? How did she deliver you from, wait, what did she deliver you from again?”

“Evil,” the old woman says. Her tone remains somber and humble in spite of my questions. “And God is not someone who lives in these walls. He is our Creator.” She turns her eyes to the sky again. “He is up there in heaven watching over us always.”

I follow her gaze to the navy sky. It is dotted with innumerable twinkling lights. I have heard the sky referred to as ‘the heavens’ before and often wondered about exactly what that meant. I’ve wondered who or what is responsible for the shimmering lights called stars and the ever-changing moon glowing overhead. Perhaps this God person is. I do not know. And while a part of me feels drawn inexplicably to the concept, now is not the time I expect to find answers.

“Right,” I say to the old woman. Her beady eyes hold me, and for a moment, a strange feeling stirs in my chest, an indescribable lightness that bubbles from my belly to my collarbones. A broad smile splits the old woman’s face and a look of silent satisfaction shines in her stare. “Someone needs to go and release the girls chained up in the cabin,” I say and do not break eye contact.

The old woman looks away first. She turns to one of the women beside her and with a sweep of her arm and a nod of her head, the other woman shuffles toward Tal’s father. She searches his belt until she finds a ring of keys. She removes them and lumbers toward the hut in which I found the girls. Another of the women who disappeared into the kitchen in the first moments we entered the compound leaves the group and goes to the boy beside Tal. She kneels in front of him and places a hand on his back.

A long pause stretches between them. “No,” she answers thoughtfully. “You are,” the woman adds in a shaky voice.

The boy’s head jerks back. Confusion carves his features. “What?” he asks in a weak voice. “That’s not, it’s not, that’s not possible,” he stammers.

“Oh my child,” she says. “They never told you. I know. But you are my son.” The woman swipes tears that trickle down her cheeks. “Those girls the men kept in the hut, they used to be us,” she says and gestures to the women with her. “We were who they created life with until we became too unappealing,” she concludes and lowers her head, saying the last word with such shame I feel my own cheeks warm.

“For as long as I can remember,” the woman answers. “And it wasn’t just here,” she adds and limply sweeps her arm, gesturing to the surrounding structure.

Her words slither down my spine like a serpent. The women before me have spent their lives serving men, cooking for them, cleaning for them, and bearing children for them, all while enduring unspeakable abuses. Before now, the idea of something so awful was inconceivable. “All of you will come with us,” I say and see no other option. They are old and slow, but I will not leave them behind to die. “We are leaving tomorrow. We are journeying out of the forest and into the world beyond to find more humans.”

Gasps echo among the women. They exchange startled looks. I hear the word ‘no’ murmured more than once, along with the words ‘crazy’ and ‘death.’

“We aren’t going anywhere,” the woman with the long gray hair says. “There is nothing out there, only death.” Her comments are met with keen nods of accord.

I feel my mouth open, and for a moment I am speechless. What the old woman has said, as well as the fervent agreement, does not make sense to me. “Urthmen have been deep into the woods. They stormed the area where the river meets the lake. The forest thins here. They will come here too. It is only a matter of time,” I warn the women.

But the woman with the long hair shakes her head. “No, we will take our chances here,” she says adamantly. “God will watch over us,” she adds and looks up at the sky.

My mind struggles to comprehend her refusal to escape before being slaughtered where she stands in the coming days. I do not understand her stubbornness. But I realize it is not my job to convince her to leave. The choice is hers. Each woman will decide for herself.

I look up at the moon and stars then back down at her face. “I hope he does for your sake, because if you stay and wait for Urthmen, you’re going to need all the help you can get to fight them.”

“We will die for certain if we leave,” the woman replies willfully. I am not sure what she is so worked up about. I am concerned for her well-being, for her survival.

“I can hunt and provide for us,” the young boy chimes in. His face is puffy and his eyes are red from crying. “I am staying with them and I will hunt for them.”

I eye the boy. “I’m sure you can,” I say and hope for the women’s sake he does not possess the tendencies of the other men who ran this compound.

“But you still need to talk it over with the girls from the hut,” I say. I glance over my shoulder and see Will, who has been pacing silently until now. He furrows his brow and looks at me, puzzled. I shake my head from side to side slowly then return my attention to the woman. “Talk to them,” I continue. “You owe them that, at least, a say in what they do, right?” Will walks to where I can see him. He looks at me then to the boy and the women, a troubled look veiling his features.

“It will be a long time before they are right again,” the old woman says. “They need calm. They will need to stay too,” she says with finality.

“Just talk to them, please. Give them the option one way or the other,” I say and I hear exasperation creep into my tone.

“You won’t be safe out there,” the old woman counters confidently. She tips her chin high then adds, “You are walking toward certain death.”

The woman’s tone, though quiet, is filled with arrogance born of certainty. She is completely convinced that she is right to stay and that we are wrong to leave.

June plants her hands on her hips and tips her chin to match the old woman’s stance. Her posture is defiant. “No we aren’t. We have Avery, not some imaginary cloud friend,” she says.

I feel heat warm my cheeks and know they are a deep scarlet hue. I am thankful for the night, for the darkness. No one can see me blushing. June overestimates me. I worry she looks up to me too much.

“I’ll discuss it with the girls,” the boy speaks up before a squabble ensues. “I’ll tell them what choices they have.”

“Then it’s settled. You will talk to the girls and let us know in the morning what their decision is and we need to sleep if we’re traveling first thing in the morning.”

“We will see you at daybreak,” the woman says. She looks at June. She narrows her eyes and purses her thin, cracked lips. Clearly, she did not appreciate June’s cloud-friend remark. I step in front of my sister protectively, placing my body between June and the old lady. The old lady’s gaze goes to my face and she adds, “Best get inside your hut. We need to take care of our dead.”

I watch for a moment, unsure of what she means by ‘take care of’ her dead. But when she shambles toward Tal’s father’s body, joined by another woman, and lifts his ankles and begins dragging him, her words become clear. She and the other woman plod down a small pathway with rows of huts on either side. Tal’s father’s head and body bump along unceremoniously and leave a smear of crimson in their wake. The other women remaining follow suit and drag another of the men on the floor by his ankles and haul him to an undisclosed location.

June yawns and tries to conceal it with her hand. Her eyes are bloodshot and her skin is paler than usual.

“Let’s go inside and get some shut-eye,” I say and begin ushering her inside the hut we began our night in.

“I think one of us should keep watch tonight,” Will grips my upper arm lightly and says in my ear.

His hot breath against my earlobe sends chills racing over my flesh. He is right, of course. I just need sleep so desperately, I can’t imagine being the one to sit vigil.

“I’ll do it,” Oliver says and I nearly weep with joy. “I’ve gotten the most sleep out of all of us in the last few days so I’ll do the first shift.”

“Thank you, Oliver,” I say and resist the urge to hug him. “If I don’t get some sleep, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk at all in the morning.”

“No problem, Avery. It’s the least I can do. You keep saving us all the time,” Oliver says and looks away sheepishly.

“Thanks again,” I add. I ignore the comment he made about me saving them all the time. I don’t have the strength to argue that he and his brother would do the same for us, and retreat to the hut.

Once inside, I close the door behind me, leaving Oliver at his post. I am not surprised when I see June and Riley nestled close to one another, their eyelids heavy. Will lifts his sleep sack. He makes a production of shaking it. I look at him and wonder why he is doing what he is doing. I also wonder whether I should do the same. I quirk an eyebrow at him, and he stops and carries his sleep sack over to where mine is unrolled. He places it next to mine and lies atop it, propping himself up on one elbow while facing me. I do the same, mirroring his position.

“I don’t know,” Will answers. “I guess I just don’t want to sleep on something those men stepped on.”

“I understand,” I say. I inhale deeply. “I can’t believe that there are humans in this world who harm one another. I just don’t get it.” I pinch the bridge of my nose then rub my forehead.

“I know. It doesn’t make sense. We’re all fighting the same fight, just trying to survive.”

“It’s true. I just don’t understand. I mean, what Tal, Ross and Jay and the other men did to those women, it just, I don’t know; it blows my mind. Girls around my age, chained up, naked and dirty,” I say and feel a turbulent rise of anger swell inside of me. “I keep picturing their faces. Streaks carved though layers of filth ran from their eyes to their chins. Their gazes were hollow, haunted, as if they’d been broken,” I say through my teeth. I swallow hard. “They were breeders. One was pregnant and the men kept going to them, taking them against their will. They thought they were doing something noble, that they were repopulating our species,” I huff.

I cannot see his face clearly and do not know what expression he wears, but I hear the tightness in his voice. I imagine he shares my revulsion, my red-hot fury at the notion of anyone trying to harm my sister or his sister.

“The thought of anyone touching,” Will starts to say but cannot finish his sentence.

I reach out my hand, hoping it will land on his shoulder, but I cannot see well enough to judge properly. When my hand lands on the warm swell of his chest, I breathe in silently, but do not release my breath. I feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. It quickens and I begin to pull my hand away. Will’s hand lands atop mine suddenly and I feel my own heart begin to riot within my ribcage. I am still holding my breath, reveling in the feel of his large palm covering mine. I also feel the solidness of the muscles underneath his shirt and just beneath his skin.

“When I think about what they wanted to do to you,” he says. His voice startles me slightly. I was lulled by his heartbeat, enjoying the odd sensation whispering across my skin. “It makes me insane with rage,” he says.

My heart stutters as my brains works to make sure my ears heard what I think he just said. He was mad about what the men wanted to do to me? The idea is confusing. Why would he care in the least? I am not his sister. True, I am part of his life now in a way that connects us, but I have not shared my life with him as Riley and Oliver have.

He begins stroking the soft flesh on the top of my hand. My scalp feels as if it has shrunk and is now two sizes too small for my head.

“But I haven’t been able to protect any of us so far. I haven’t helped at all,” he adds and laughs once. It is a quiet, self-depreciating sound.

My fingertips tense involuntarily and grip his powerful chest. “No, that’s not true,” I disagree with him. “You’ve been,” I start but am suddenly breathless. “Perfect,” I manage in a weak voice.

“Avery,” he says my name and goose bumps race across my skin. “I admire so much about you, how well you hunt, how good you are with June, your bravery, and don’t get me started about your skills as a fighter,” he adds and I hear that he is smiling before I strain to see his teeth, pale against the darkness. “And you’re beautiful,” he says seriously. I no longer hear or see his smile. “I want to be what you are. I want to be what you need.”

The tremor in his voice sends a tremor spiraling through my core. He thinks I’m brave, and good with June, that I am a good hunter and an excellent fighter, and he thinks I’m beautiful! My mind is swimming laps around a lake of happiness. I am dizzy and cold yet my insides feel as if they would rival the surface of the sun on a midsummer day. I want to tell him that I think he is beautiful, that I have never seen anyone or anything quite as beautiful as he is. I want to tell him that when he is near, as he is now, I cannot think straight, I cannot breathe properly, my entire body goes haywire and I do not know whether I am sick or losing my mind or both. But the words do not come out. Dizzying, overwhelming excitement has seized my ability to speak apparently.

“You are,” I manage to choke out and hope I do not sound as crazy as I feel.

I feel his chest moving against my hand, inching forward as he leans closer to me. His heart is drilling against it, almost matching the pace of mine. I blow out a thin stream of air and inhale again. My insides tremble the nearer he draws.

My cells are firing all at once. His face is so close I can make out the sharp angle of his jaw and the soft indentation between his nose and lips. His hot breath feathers across my face for a moment, and time seems to stand still. The scent of him fills me. He smells of sweet grass and nighttime, of sweat and musk. I want him to stay as he is forever so I can breathe him in and feel his heart beating beneath my hand.

The soft skin of his lips grazes mine as he brushes past me and presses his cheek to my cheek. I would collapse if I wasn’t already on the ground, propped up on one elbow. In fact, I still think I may faint and fall to the ground all the same.

The urge to grip both sides of his face and press my mouth to his overtakes me. I do not know why I feel as I do, but it frightens me. He is close, so close I can feel his pulse darting in his neck. I want to plant my lips there too. Perhaps I should. Perhaps he wants me to. I do not know what he wants. I feel my muscles begin to stiffen and I am frozen.

He leans back a bit and is facing me, his lips so close I could touch them just by puckering slightly.

“Avery,” he says my name with urgency I can feel, urgency I am experiencing though I don’t know why.

My heart is hammering in my ears. I am practically panting. “Good night, Will,” I say and slip my hand from his then lower my body and roll on my side, away from him.

Feeling as if the ground beneath me has opened, I have the sensation that I am plunging into a blackened abyss, a void from which return is impossible. I am falling. Into what, or where, I am falling I have no idea. I cover my face with both hands as unworthiness and embarrassment pull me lower.

I hate myself for what I just did or didn’t do. I feel panicked and sad, scared and excited all at once. I hear the soft rustle of Will’s sleep sack and know that he is no longer right beside me. I would not need to hear it to be sure, though. I feel the coldness of his absence. I wrap my arms across my chest and place one hand on either shoulder, bracing myself against the chill that has seeped into my bones and causes me to shiver.

Tears heat the backs of my eyelids. I do not know why I am crying but am powerless to stop it. I allow them to fall silently until utter exhaustion grips me and pulls me under the surface of its dark and murky waters.

Morning light seeps between the slim cracks in the thatched roof of the hut and I realize I have slept the night through. Physically, I feel much better. My emotions are another story entirely, however. I feel anxious and annoyed, confused and gloomy in a way that goes beyond our undetermined safety and future. It runs deeper.

Oh no! I groan in my head. What if I’ve scared him away? What if last night, when I froze and rolled over and went to sleep, I ruined something between us? I cannot help but believe that is the case as an endless stream of worry and self-doubt carves a channel through my brain.

I sit up slowly and scan the hut. June and Riley are still asleep. I try to stand without disturbing them, but June’s eyes pop open. She sees me standing over her and alarm creases her features.

“What is it?” she asks. “Is everything okay?” her eyes are bleary and her hair is squashed on one side.

“Where’s Will?” Riley asks in a voice thickened by sleep. She lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow.

Their questions echo the questions swarming in my brain, yet they are asking for different reasons.

I’ve been so consumed by self-absorbed worry that the possibility that something happened to Will did not cross my mind straightaway. It should have. Given the dangerous world we live in, that should have been my first thought, not an afterthought. All the strange stirrings and emotions rambling around inside me have clouded my judgment.

“I don’t know,” I answer Riley honestly. “Stay here, both of you, I’ll go outside and find out where he is,” I say.

I open the door so that just a sliver of light slips in at first then carefully peek outside. I see Will and Oliver chatting and feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. Will glimpses me watching him and his brother. His eyes lock on mine then lower immediately. The faintest bands of pink touch his sun kissed skin. I know I have done something wrong. But I guess a part of me knew that last night before I drifted off to sleep. I feel as if my heart is being tugged to my feet slowly, torturously, and I hope I have not created a rift that cannot be mended.

I pull the door toward me and say a quick “good morning” to Will and Oliver then promptly inform June and Riley that the boys are okay.

“Whew,” Riley says and flops back against her sleep sack. “Oliver was out there all night and after what happened I-I, I don’t know, I was just worried.” A crease appears between her eyebrows as they gather, just as June’s brows do when she speaks with concern.

“You don’t have to explain,” I say to her. “I get it. And I don’t blame you one bit for worrying.” I smile at her with the same affection I smile at my sister.

I can hear the relief in her voice. I hate that her life, like ours, has been spent balancing on the tip of a razor-sharp blade where moving threatens pain identical to remaining still. No matter what we do or where we go, we are always teetering on the edge of danger, of hurt. I hope to change all that. I hope to find more like us to band together with so that we may feel a shred of safety and peace of mind. But before we can do that, before we can go anywhere, we must leave here.

With the goal of exiting in mind, I open the door again and step outside. I clear my throat and Oliver looks at me.

“Don’t be so quick to answer, my boy,” the voice of the old lady scrapes down the pathway like stones grinding against each other. Ropes of bristly hair in a shade that matches the steel of my blade billow in the breeze as she hobbles toward us. “I’m coming,” she says then mumbles, “just takes a little longer than it used to.”

Oliver grins and laughs uncomfortably. When her voice sounds again, his laughter immediately stops and his smile withers.

“Ah, you feel that?” she says and outstretches one arm. “That breeze, the scent on the wind, it means rain is coming.”

“Okay,” I smile and say evenly. I feel the warmth of the sun, though it has just made its appearance, and the sky is a rich, deep blue. I do not smell rain or anything unusual in the air.

“A rainstorm is all the more reason for you to stay,” she wheezes when finally she is standing before us. She is winded and sweat stipples her brow.

“And what about the girls that were locked up, are they coming with us?” I ask, but feel confident I already know the answer.

“No. They’re in bad shape. One of them is with child and is so weak she can barely stand, and the others have wounds that hardly allow them to walk across a room, much less hike across the forest,” she says before adding a grumpy “harrumph.”

“I see,” I say sadly. The horrors those poor girls have lived through will scar them long after their bodies heal.

“Curse those men!” the old woman spits. Her small eyes are nearly black. They glisten with emotion. “But the human spirit is not easily broken. We are a strong and hearty species. What happened to them will not break them. I am living proof of that. The girls will be fine one day.”

“Listen, uh,” I start then realize I do not even know her name. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name,” I admit.

“Listen, Mary, are you sure the boy is going to do what he says he’ll do, that he’ll hunt and take care of you?”

“Are you asking whether he is like his fathers?” she asks and cuts to the chase.

“Don’t worry yourself,” she assures me with the same calm confidence with which she spoke the night before. “He will do right by us. And if he doesn’t,” her voice trails off and she stares into the distance briefly. “We can handle the boy ourselves,” she concludes grimly, her voice dropping an octave, and her eyes lock on mine. An unspoken message passes from her to me. I understand just what she means when she says she and the others will “handle” the boy should he attempt any of the deeds the other men carried out.

Mary chuckles. “I wouldn’t waste my time fretting about us if I were you. I’d be worrying about myself. There’s nothing out there for humans,” she levels her dark gaze at me and enunciates each word of the last sentence she spoke.

“I believe there’s more out there than there is here. And I believe there are more humans than we think, out there, surviving,” I counter respectfully.

“Is that what you really believe? You think there are humans out there living among the Urthmen?” she says with a frown.

“Yes,” I reply with certainty I cannot explain. “And I aim to find as many of them as I can.”

Before stumbling upon the compound, finding other human beings was something I only dreamed of. Then I found Will and his family. Though not all of them survived, they have been a gift, nevertheless. They made me realize I am not alone in this world with just my sister to love and protect. Will, Riley and Oliver made me want to seek out others like us. I thought that because all human beings share a common interest, namely survival, there wouldn’t be a risk. Now, however, my feelings have changed. I am wary of my own species. I am undertaking this next endeavor wiser, and far more cautiously.

“God be with you,” Mary says. She immediately casts her eyes to the crystal-clear sky above.

“Thank you,” I say and track her gaze. I am still unsure of to whom she speaks, but accept her well wish. I am sure June, Will, Oliver, Riley and I will need all the help we can get.

“Be sure to eat before you go. After what you did for us, the least I can do is fill your belly before you march off to meet your maker,” she says in her gruff tone before she turns from me and begins waddling away.

I part my lips to speak, to ask after her why she is so convinced that I will meet my demise the moment I leave the compound, but decide against it. I clamp my mouth shut and watch her go. What good would arguing with Mary do anyway? I have about as good a chance at changing her mind as she does changing mine. I agree to disagree with her and leave it at that.

I turn to face Will and roll my eyes before shaking my head slowly. He smiles at me for a moment, a brilliant smile that touches his eyes. But all too soon, his smile falters. The corners of his mouth droop and he looks away from me as if he’s been reminded that he dislikes me. My insides wilt and I feel my own smile capsize. I realize I must speak to Will at some point today during our hike. Things cannot be tense between us. Too much is at stake, lives are at stake, and not just our own. Our sisters and his brother need us to function and interact together smoothly. Whatever happened between us last night has to be addressed, and fast.

After I tell June and Riley that no one from the compound will be joining us on our journey, we head as a group to the dining area. As promised, there is food for us to eat. Turkey meat, a rare treat, as well as field greens and berries await us. I eat quickly while the children chat. Will is quieter than normal, a fact that makes my belly quiver and clench simultaneously. The feeling I have, the awkwardness between us, makes me understand that I cannot wait hours before Will and I discuss what happened.

“Will, can I talk to you for a moment?” I surprise myself by saying as I stand. I begin walking toward the entryway of the dining room, to where a hallway gives way to a courtyard. I walk on legs that wobble and my hands tremble in time with them. I do not look over my shoulder to be sure he is following. I hear the sound of his footsteps behind me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he hadn’t followed. I hadn’t thought that possibility through. But now that he is, I need to come up with what I will say soon or else we will just be left standing and staring at each other blankly.

I stop abruptly and take a deep breath. “Will, we can’t be like this,” I blurt out. “You can’t be mad at me, okay?”

He rears his head slightly and his eyes widen. I can see I’ve caught him off-guard with my candor. He composes himself instantly.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says tightly and folds his arms across his broad chest.

My eyes linger there, on the spot where my hand was pressed with his atop it, just above his heart, and heat blazes through my body. My mouth is suddenly dry and my throat burns.

“Humph,” he says and looks away. His lips are pressed to a hard line, his beautiful, full lips that brushed mine just barely.

My heart begins knocking against my chest so hard I wonder whether Will can see it from where he stands.

“Come on, Will,” I say and reach out my hand. But as soon as my fingertips graze his forearm, he pulls away as if I am touching him with fire.

“Don’t be. Not wanting to kiss me last night is no big deal,” he says. His cheeks are red. “Just don’t pretend like you like me when you don’t and everything will be fine.”

“Kiss you?” I ask in disbelief. He was trying to kiss me? Did I just hear him correctly?

“All right, Avery! Enough! Just don’t say it. Don’t talk about it again.”

“But Will,” I say and cannot keep myself from grinning. “I didn’t know what you were doing,” I admit. “I’ve never, you know, kissed anyone, just June, and that’s on the top of her head or forehead,” I start to ramble.

“I haven’t either. And apparently I am so bad at it you didn’t even know what was happening when I tried.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all. I mean, I don’t know anything about that stuff, about kissing or anything,” I say. “I know the basics and whatnot, but all the other stuff, all the knowing when something’s happening stuff is really confusing,” I admit.

My face feels as if it is engulfed in flames. I don’t know what I am more embarrassed about, the fact that I am so ignorant on the subject, or that I have admitted as much to him.

“You forget, I’ve been alone with June for a long time. And before that it was just the three of us, my dad, June and I. The last time I was around a lot of humans was when I lived here when I was a little girl. Since then, I’ve had nothing to focus on but survival.”

Will’s eyes lower to his feet. He kicks a tuft of weedy growth, working it with his foot from side to side. “Well it’s not like I have experience either,” he says in a low, mumbled voice. “I’ve met other people, other girls around my age. But I never wanted to, you know,” he allows his sentence to linger, unfinished.

I wish he would finish. He never wanted to what? Kiss any of the girls he’d met? I want to know but do not have the courage to ask.

My stomach is cartwheeling and I worry the food I just ate will launch at any moment. That would be brilliant, wouldn’t it? He tried to kiss me and I missed what was happening and as I try to patch things up I barf on him. That sounds like something that would happen to me at this point.

“Anyway,” I hear his voice and my heart stutters for several beats. I swallow hard. “Let’s just forget about it and get where we need to get,” he shrugs and says.

But I don’t want to forget about it. I want to experience what I felt last night again.

The churning stops, and instead of feeling like a sea amid a violent storm, my belly feels like a boulder tumbling to the ground below.

“Okay,” he agrees and smiles. His smile does not reach his eyes. He starts to walk back toward the dining areas then pauses and turns. He looks at me as if he wants to say something, but turns away from me quickly.

I am left standing there for a moment. My hand moves to my chest of its own accord and clenches the strange ache there. I breathe against the hollow sting until I am confident I will not cry. There are enough things in this life to cry about; kissing boys should not be one of them. I roll my shoulders back and make my way back to June, Riley, Oliver and Will.

Everyone has finished eating and is ready to leave when I return. We say our good-byes to Mary and the other women who come to see us off. We head back into the forest and leave the compound, and all that occurred within its walls, in the past.

We hike for the entire morning. Trees become fewer and grow farther apart, and we are able to cover more ground in less time. The sun is high overhead when we see an end to our wooded home.

A blackened road made of asphalt appears suddenly and is thinly concealed by tall stems of dying growth.

“We made it,” June says. Her eyes are round as she stares at the blacktop. “Is that a road?” she asks in wonder.

On the other side of the road, squat structures with rectangle cutouts that look like eyes are interspersed. Many sag and look dilapidated. Very little of the lush greenery we are accustomed to seeing carries over into the new landscape before us. In fact, much of what we see is dirty and bare looking.

“I still can’t believe we are here,” June adds. Her voice is fraught with nerves. I share her nervousness. Still, I feel compelled to forge ahead.

I hear murmurs of agreement. “Okay, then let’s stick to the side of the road. We’ll follow the line where the pavement meets the woods.”

I do not have a firm plan in place. I do not have a plan at all, in fact. “We’ll make that decision when we have to,” I answer cryptically. “For now, we’ll just stay close to the woods.”

We step from the shade of the trees out onto the street. I immediately feel hotter that I have ever felt. The sun beats down from above. Without the cover of leaves and limbs I feel exposed, vulnerable. Yet I cannot imagine retreating to the forest again and contending with both Lurkers by night and Urthmen by day.

We are not on the road long when the rhythmic patter of booted footsteps causes me to freeze. Will’s eyes dart from the woods to me then back again.

I do not waste a moment. I grab June’s hand and yank her into a tangled mass of bramble. Will, Oliver and Riley are right behind me. We squeeze together and watch as an entire patrol of Urthmen marches down the road we were just on. I know we should withdraw deeper into the woods but the sight before me, before all of us, holds us.

A male Urthman is perched beside a female Urthman, a rare sight. They are dressed in clothing I have never seen before. A fur lined cloth is draped across the female’s shoulders. It is the richest, brightest hue of red I have ever seen and looks as if it would be soft to the touch. The male Urthman wears a similar cloth, but his is a vivid blue shade. Both are adorned with ornate gold stitching. The gold stitching matches the golden crowns balanced on their misshapen heads. The clothing and crowns do little to improve the ghastliness of their appearances, but they do give them an air of importance.

My eyes wander from their attire to their mode of transportation. They do not walk. They are sitting beside one another in a wheeled contraption. I believe it is a wagon. But my father once told me wagons were pulled by horses, an animal long-since extinct that used to serve humans.

Six humans, in all, walk atop the burning blacktop barefoot. They wear only a thin garment that covers their pelvises and are chained to the cart they draw. Their ribs are visible. Their knees, elbows and cheekbones are prominent. They look as though they have not eaten in some time. A nearby Urthman, also in the carriage, sitting on a rectangular structure right behind them, continually lashes them with a long strap of leathery looking material.

The sound of the whip cracking makes me jump. Inside, I feel as if my blood is hotter than the midday sun, boiling and about to bubble over. I have never heard of humans enslaved by Urthmen as I see them enslaved now. First, I learned of Ross and Tal’s imprisonment and torture of women, and now I see this. The abundance of atrocities committed staggers me. I want to run out in front of the carriage and behead the monster whipping the humans. I want to spear the grotesque pair perched in the rear like royalty. But I know I cannot. I am outnumbered. I would be killed for sure, and June, Will, Riley and Oliver would suffer the same fate. I will not jeopardize their safety any more than I have already. So I wait and watch in horror as the cart rolls by and the patrol passes.

Once all have passed, I hear a rumble. I look through the interlaced vines and down the road and see a large truck bringing up the rear, a vehicle I have heard about and seen pictures of but have never seen in life before. My jaw drops as the massive metal machine passes.

The expression on Will’s face looks as mine did seconds ago. His mouth is agape and his eyes are pinned to the truck. He tears his eyes away from it and answers, “No,” then returns his gaze to it.

I scan the faces of the children. They are all transfixed by what they have just seen. When the truck is past us and no longer visible, I am bombarded by a flurry of questions.

I answer their question to the best of my knowledge. Will helps and, together, we are able to appease much of the curiosity. With the children calm, I decide to confer with Will and form a plan.

“I think we should rest now, go a little deeper into the woods and rest. Lurkers don’t live this close to the road and shouldn’t be a problem,’ I say. “I think our best bet is to travel at night so we can move unseen. What do you think?”

“I agree,” Will folds his arms across his chest and nods. “I didn’t like being out there on the road in broad daylight. I felt too open, you know?”

“And you’re right. Lurkers don’t come this far out of the forest. Not even at night. I think we’ll be fine a little further in. Let’s rest now and ready ourselves for nightfall.”

We inform June, Riley and Oliver of our decision. The children are hesitant at first, but prefer the idea of moving about in the dark to doing so by day when, at any given time, a team of Urthmen can simply appear and fill a street as they did moments earlier.

I lead us away from the side of the road to a small thicket of bushes. The children lie, completely concealed by the bushes. Will and I rest beside them, only partially covered.

A haunted look veils his features. He levels his aquamarine stare my way and I try to gauge what is behind them. I try to read what he is thinking. But all I see are twin pools of tropical water I once saw in an old photograph.

Will does not answer right away. He looks off into the distance. The small muscles around his jaw work and flex. “If what we saw today, that parade of Urthmen with humans as slaves, if that’s all the world has to offer, I don’t know what we’re doing out here or where we’re heading,” he says. His tone is infused with an edge of equal parts desperation and sadness. I wish I could throw my arms around his neck and tell him I know exactly how he feels and that everything will be all right. It has to be. But I can’t. I am not brave enough.

“There are more of us out there,” I tell him. “I can feel it in me, in my bones. They’re out there. We just have to find them.”

“We fight,” I reply. “We fight for our freedom, for the freedom of all those who’ve fallen before us, all those who have been enslaved. We fight for what is ours. We fight for our right to exist. We fight for our lives.”

I hope I am right, but after what I saw at the compound and what I saw on the road, I am not so sure anymore.

Will and I napped in shifts. When I wake from mine, I see that has night has fallen. As soon as my eyes focus I realize it is time to go.

“Where are we?” Riley asks in the first few moments after her eyes open. She is undoubtedly groggy and confused.

“We’re at the edge of the forest, near the street,” Will reminds her gently.

“The street,” she says as awareness and panic collide. Her eyes hurry from side to side. “I remember the Urthmen, and the humans chained to the wagon.”

Will places his arm around her shoulders and brings her close. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “They’re gone, and we’re not going anywhere near them again, okay?”

“We’re going to find other human beings, like us, and things are going to be fine,” he tells her. I hope he’s right.

“Of course things will be fine,” June chimes in and gives Riley a sisterly nudge. “How can anything go wrong when the sky looks like that?” she says and points overhead.

“Ooh,” Riley says as she casts her gaze skyward. “Oh my gosh, it’s so beautiful.”

“I agree. It’s hard to imagine there are bad things in the world when something that magnificent is above for all to see.”

They marvel at the night sky. Though they’ve seen it more than once, the sky is exceptionally clear.

“The twinkly things, the stars, they look like jewels,” June comments. Then she turns to me. “We’ve seen jewels,” she gestures between the two of us. “Well not in real life, but we’ve seen them. Remember, Avery? Remember when dad showed us pictures of diamonds?”

“I do,” I tell her. I remember the day well. An ancient book called an encyclopedia had managed to survive the war and the carnage that followed. It had an array of information contained within its pages, most of it about places and people I’d never heard of. But it was interesting, nevertheless. “And you’re right. The stars look like diamonds.”

“I like the moon best,” Oliver joins the conversation and weighs in. “It’s bigger and brighter.”

“The moon’s light will help us find our way out of here,” Will tells him as he grips his hand and helps his brother to his feet. His act prompts us to get moving.

I help the girls to stand as well. Together, we make our way out onto the road once again. The temperature has dropped considerably and there is a distinct nip in the atmosphere that suggests a season change is near. I inhale deeply and feel the crisp air fill my lungs. It is different from the air in the forest. It’s dustier, drier.

June is at my side and Will is behind me. We stay close to one another and move quickly. My heart keeps pace with the frenetic patter of our feet. I continue to scan the land in front of me while looking over my shoulder at regular intervals. We are alone as far as I can tell. Still, the woods on the side of the road are watchful. I cannot shake the feeling that countless eyes are minding our every move, waiting with bated breath to see what happens next. I know it is not true, that even the nimblest of nocturnal hunters exist in fear of the worst of all nighttime predators. Urthmen, Lurkers, deranged humans who hold innocent women and children captive and an assortment of forest monsters have left my nerves frayed. Still, knowing that my imagination is overacting doesn’t stop me from glancing that way from time to time as we go.

We continue down the long, dark road until we reach what looks like a town. Pale moonlight blanches everything in its wake, but even without the moon, I doubt anything could be done to help the landscape before me.

Rows of brick and wood structures appear and line both sides of the street. I remember learning about places such as the one before me. My dad told me they were shops. Humans once owned places of business that would sell goods and services in exchange for stuff called money. Money once controlled the world. It is hard for me to imagine paper and coins controlling anything. Especially since those who’d had plenty of it died just the same as those who had not. Their money had only delayed the inevitable slightly, and bought them suffering at the hands of abominations along with it. Money fell to extinction along with humanity. As far as I know, it holds no value at all. And the places where it changed hands, the shops, bear the appearance of its elimination.

Broken windows stare at us like lifeless eyes as we pass, and torn awnings flap quietly in the faint breeze that stirs. Piles of debris are clustered as far as I can see—stones, rocks, bricks and other material I cannot identify. Heaps of rubbish arise from the pavement and look like mangled metal corpses. They are covered in a lumpy, dry-looking substance the color of dried blood. They resemble the truck that passed when the Urthmen marched by earlier, but without wheels or the ability to move.

“This place gives me the creeps,” June says and shivers. She wraps one arm across her body.

“I heard stories about places like this. I think this used to be a town,” Will tells the girls.

“I know, it is,” Will agrees and drapes his arm across her shoulders reassuringly.

“Do you think Urthmen live here?” Oliver asks. I hear the edge in his voice, the nervousness. I feel it too. I wondered the same thing. But I suppose if Urthemn did live here, we’d be dead already.

“No, I don’t think so,” Will answers. “These buildings are just shells. It doesn’t look like anyone or anything has been here for ages.”

The metal heaps and storefronts are covered in a sooty layer of grime. The forest was never filmed in such muck. All that I am seeing is foreign and gloomy.

“Me, too,” I say. “This place is awful,” I add. “It’s so depressing.”

“Yes,” he surprises me by having a finite opinion. “Anything to get away from these buildings and all the other junk around here,” he adds and curls his upper lip in disgust.

We make our way down a new street. I immediately notice that the layout is different. Houses, not buildings, line the lane.

“Oh wow! Houses,” I hear Will whisper excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to see one of these. Haven’t you?” he does not wait for my response and continues. “My parents used to tells us stories they’d heard.” His head swivels as he looks from one house to the next. Childlike awe replaces his guarded expression. “All the things humans had, stuff like rooms and furniture, running water and tubs they bathed in, and lights! Lights inside the walls! Can you imagine!” he says and even in the dim light provided by the moon, I can see his translucent blue-green eyes dance with wonder.

My stomach feels as if millions of bubbles are bouncing and bursting. His excitement is infectious. I feel my own interest pique.

“Yes, I have,” I admit and the vision I imagined since I was a child reappears in my mind’s eye. Soft, plush material beneath my bare feet, carpeting, I believe my father called it, and walls that shut out the cold and heat just as the cave did, only the hard, coldness of it is missing, replaced, instead, with comfort and warmth. I always picture soft colors similar to the forest only less vibrant, more soothing. I envision all the luxuries I heard about: a soft, cozy bed to sleep in, water piped inside that runs both hot and cold, chests that run by power that keep food fresh. All of it sounds too magnificent to be true. Yet seeing the houses now as I do, I realize it was true once, long ago.

“Come on,” Will tries. “This might be the one and only time we ever get a chance to do it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Will asks. “Let’s go,” he says as he looks all around then dashes off toward the house nearest to us.

Worry niggles at the back of my brain. But I disregard it. I am carried on a wave of pure curiosity that I cannot resist. I take June’s hand in mine and follow after him. Oliver and Riley are not far behind.

Will is at the front door before we are even on the front step. He tries the handle and finds that the knob turns easily, it is unlocked. He steps inside.

Sallow light illuminates a narrow pathway and pushes against the darkness within. I scan the immediate area, terrified and inquisitive simultaneously. I spy a stout, cylindrical object in a windowsill to my immediate left. I go to it, wondering, dreaming it is what I think it is.

“Will,” I murmur. “Look.” I urge him to join me. In the time I wait, I cannot resist. I feel it, instantly noting the waxy substance beneath my fingertips confirms what I suspected. “A candle,” I say as I wrap a hand around it. Something gritty coats it, but it’s too late for me to worry now. I slide my other hand beside it, and as I do, I bump a compact item that is lightweight. I lower the candle to the sill right away, my curiosity provoked beyond any familiar threshold. I fumble with the packed little thing my hand hit, straining my eyes to see that I am holding a thin cardboard cover. One side is smooth while the other bears a coarse strip. I slide my thumb along a ridge on the side opposite the coarse strip and lift a flap. The cardboard opens like a book, only inside, I don’t find pages. I find slender sticks. “A matchbook,” I manage breathlessly.

“What?” Will asks incredulously. “No way! Let me see.” He is beside me within the space of a breath, his solid arm brushing mine with every move he makes. My body is at odds over which is more exciting, my recent discoveries, or Will’s proximity. “Wow,” he says as he manipulates the pocket-sized treasure. “Think they work?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” I turn my head toward him and challenge.

“That’s right,” he says and tears a stick from the folder. “Here goes nothing.” He flips the book and slides the bulbous tip of the stick along the grainy strip on back.

I watch as Will brings the flame to the wick of the candle and a soft glow haloes it, bathing the room in warm light.

“Oh my gosh,” I can’t help but gasp once I am able to see the space around me more clearly.

All around me I see items I believed were fabled, the stuff of legends and bedtime stories parents told their children. In the room to my left, a couch, similar to the one we had in our hut at the compound when I was a little girl, faces a cushioned chair between which a table sits. The floor is covered in what I assume is carpeting. I would like nothing more than to remove my boots and socks and walk atop it barefoot, but I do not know what chemicals remain embedded in the fibers. Everything seems to be covered in a chalky, white film. I do not know what the film is composed of and do not intend to find out.

“This is crazy,” Will says as he looks around the room with the couch and chair, all the while holding tight to the candle. “Can you believe this? It is real. The stories our parents told us are real.” I hear hope in his voice. His hope makes me smile and feel my own surge of optimism. “And it’s not even that dirty,” he adds and points to the fine coating covering everything we see.

“People, human beings, used to actually live here, maybe even kids our age,” he says and sounds as if he is struggling to contain his enthusiasm.

“Will, come this way,” I wave him toward me. “Come on. Let’s look in here.”

He obliges and lights the way inside. Cabinets that appear to be made of wood hang from the walls, and another table and chair are set up close to the exterior wall. A window is in front of it. I imagine a family sitting there, eating their fresh food and talking while enjoying the outside through the comfort and protection of a pane of glass. I stare at the dark world beyond the glass.

My eyes continue to scan the room. Oddly, I see a bowl with fruit sitting atop the counter just below the cabinets. Fruit does not last long in the forest after it is picked. It certainly wouldn’t endure centuries of chemical fallout and war. They would have rotted, turned to dust and blown away long ago. My eyes follow the line of the countertop and freeze on a bowl with a mushed substance inside. I move toward it and reach out a hand. I touch the bowl. It is warm. Seeing the fruit then touching the bowl and finding it warm sends a trill of awareness down my spine that raises the fine hairs on my body. The situation narrows into razor-sharp focus.

“Someone is here,” I say as chills speed over my skin in waves. “We need to go, now!” I whisper urgently to June, Will, Oliver and Riley.

We turn and begin scrambling toward the door. But immediately the sound of footsteps echoes and freezes the blood in my veins.

“Go! Go! Go!” I urge everyone. But before we make it to the hallway at the end of which the only known exit lies, we hear a voice.

“Wow! Humans are in my house!” the voice says and then makes a soft chuffing sound through the two asymmetrical holes below his eyes.

A miniature creature with a misshapen head, disproportionately larger than his stubby body, ambles toward us. His lidless, black eyes are wider and clearer than I have ever seen on any other Urthmen, and his nearly transparent skin seems thinner. It displays the vivid entanglement of veins spanning his entire head like a web more readily. Perhaps it is because he looks to be a very young one.

“I can’t believe it!” he says and claps his stumpy hands together excitedly. As he does so, the black line of his mouth contorts into an expression that displays small, pointed teeth, making him appear even more monstrous.

I make a mad dash to him, figuring that where there is one there is more. I clamp one hand over his mouth and hold the other against the back of his head. He tries to scream.

“Be quiet!” I tell him, but the clatter of footsteps racing down the hall means it is too late.

I let go of him and draw my sword. Will grips his club. The children scurry behind us as we prepare to fight.

Two Urthmen storm into the room, one male, one female. In the instant I glimpse them, an idea flashes through my mind, streaking like lightning in the sky. I collar the young one, bring him within arm’s reach of me again and place my blade against his throat.

Both stop instantly. Their cloudy eyes dart from him to my blade then to me. They widen considerably, a feat I have never witnessed an Urthman perform.

A child implies human origins. The thing my blade is pressed against is nothing more than a young slaughterer of my species.

“I have seen plenty of children slaughtered by your kind,” I say in a low voice that sounds foreign to my ears. “It never seemed to bother you, taking their lives,”

“We didn’t do anything to you,” the female cries out, her voice shrill and pitched high, similar to a distressed woman’s voice. “Please just let our son go,” she begs.

“Son,” I mumble the word with disgust. My mother may have had a son growing inside her womb when she begged and pleaded for her life and the life of her unborn baby. But mercy was not shown to her. It is a word that is absent in their vocabulary. I have seen many sons struck down in my lifetime. The creature before me is not a son; he is not a human being. He does not deserve such a title. He is nothing more than the offspring of a murderous pairing in a murderous species.

Sweat collects between my shoulder blades and trickles down to the small of my back. My forehead is slick and so are my palms. My pulse is thundering in my ears. I lick my lips and look at Will. The children are out of harm’s way, close to the front door. His eyes lock on mine, but his expression is indecipherable.

“Both of you come over here slowly,” I order them. I watch them closely as they cautiously slide their feet forward until they stand by their son.

“Please,” the male begs. “Just leave. We won’t tell anyone you were ever here.”

He is trying to convince me he is civil. What a joke. I know better than to believe such nonsense.

“You expect us to trust you?” I ask him in amazement. “You would bludgeon us to death the second we look away,” I say and a crazed laugh passes between my lips.

“No, we would never do such a thing!” the male pretends to be indignant about what I have said. “We are not soldiers. We are not like the others who overtake villages. We’re ordinary beings, parents.”

“We live here in peace,” the female adds and attempts to augment her cadence with a soothing lilt.

“You’re lying,” I shake my head and say. They are trying to mess with my mind, trying to sway me to believe they are tame, obliging citizens, that I misunderstand their role. Well they are not fooling me. I know better. “You are murdering liars, all of you!”

“Avery, let’s just go,” Will’s voice floats through the ether and wraps itself around my heart.

“Come on, these people aren’t looking for trouble. We can just leave.” A pained expression dominates his handsome face.

“Are you crazy? You’re calling these creatures people?” I am beyond shocked. They have managed to get to him, to penetrate his defenses, despite watching both his parents die at the hands of their kind just days ago. “You actually expect me to trust them after what you saw them do, after what you lived through?”

Anguish gathers his features. His shoulders slump forward and his pain is evident. “These beings did not kill my parents,” he says in a trembling voice. “They didn’t do it,” he says and points to the three Urthmen. “I don’t want to be like the monsters that killed my mom and dad, and if we kill them, we are no better than they were.”

I can’t believe what I am hearing. For the briefest of moments I am speechless. Bile burns up the back of my throat as his position gels in my mind. Will is not on my side. He does not see things as I see them. I swallow hard and speak with calm I do not feel. “Will, we have to kill them,” I tell him levelly. “You’re thinking of them like humans, like they are the same as we are, but they’re not.” Memories of my mother’s death, and the deaths of his parents, come flooding back in a cold rush. “Think about it. Remember what they are and think about Riley and Oliver. Think about June and I.”

The female and the young one start to make a sound similar to crying. “Avery, I can’t. That’s not me. It’s not us,” Will says.

The word ‘us’ succeeds at momentarily jumbling my thoughts. I begin to focus on what he meant by that. But my thinking rights itself quickly. What he meant by his choice of words is irrelevant. Our lives are at stake. We cannot let the Urthmen live.

“We won’t, I promise!” the male says, his voice bordering on whiny and pathetic.

“Avery, don’t do this,” Will continues to try to sway me away from what I know is the right thing to do. Something between regret and apology flashes in his eyes.

I know they have to die. Just because they have behaved in a mildly human fashion does not make them human. They are hardwired, genetically altered and programmed to hate and hunt humans. My sister’s life rests on me ending theirs. I clutch the handle of my sword in my hands and grip it tightly. I swing it in a wide arc and am about to slice it laterally and be done with it when Will’s club rattles to the floor with a bang. I halt my blade mid-swing and freeze. He steps in front of me and places his hands in front of his chest in surrender.

“Avery, this is a family. They are not soldiers,” he says meekly, fixing a penetrating gaze on me. “Having compassion is what makes us human, it makes us better. You can’t do it. Remember what you are.”

I gaze into the bottomless depths of his aquamarine eyes. I see innocence. I see warmth and empathy. But sadly, none of those qualities serve us now.

“No,” I tell him. “If I draw upon compassion, as you’re telling me to, it does not show my humanity. It demonstrates naiveté.”

“We won’t tell. You have our word. On our child’s life, we swear we will not tell the others that we saw you,” the female promises. My eyes linger on her, searching for a shred of truth to her words. I see nothing, just the face of a vicious predator.

“Avery, look at me,” Will says and diverts my attention away from the female Urthman. “I’m begging you, don’t do this. If you do you are no better than they are, and I don’t want to be a part of it,”

“Of what? Of me?” I ask and narrow my eyes at him, stunned that he would even utter such a thing.

“Of this, of what is going on right now,” he answers. “I can’t travel with an executioner,” he says finally.

He is talking about me. He will see me as an executioner if I kill the Urthmen, our enemies for centuries. I feel as if I have been slapped and punched in the gut.

With an unsteady hand, I lower my weapon. My mouth is dry, my temples pound. Will issued an ultimatum and I caved. I compromised principles that have kept me and my sister alive since we were born. Kill or be killed was my father’s motto where Urthmen were concerned. There was no maybe. Every cell in my body shrieks at once that what I am doing is wrong. I feel it in my bones, in the lifeblood that pumps through me.

Reluctantly, I back away from the three and out the front door. “You better make good on your promise and keep your mouth shut,” I mutter as I leave.

I sheathe my sword and all of us run out into the street. As soon as our feet touch pavement, I hear the piercing peal of bells echoing though the silence. The high-pitched sound persists. I twist and look over my shoulder at the front of the house. I see the male’s form filling the doorway. In his hand he grips a club. His wife squeezes beside him. She, too, is brandishing her weapon.

“Humans!” the male screams louder than I ever imagined a creature could call. His voice rips through the night. “Humans are here!” he persists.

Doors of neighboring houses begin to open and torch wielding Urthmen spill from them. Shock registers on Will’s face, shock and understanding. He knows as well as I do that letting the three Urthmen, the male and female and their offspring, live was a mistake that could prove fatal. But time does not exist to assign blame. We take off running. We are being pursued in the open by dozens of Urthmen who will kill us if we are caught.

I realize in that instant that my life, as well as the lives of those I love, will likely end tonight.

“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.”

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will asks with genuine shock. This time he heard me.

“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.

“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.

“Don’t be,” I say levelly. “Learn from it. And if we survive somehow, I call the shots from here on out.”

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.

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.

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.

Ice-cold water rains over my head and body, splashing against me so that it bites my skin like countless bee stings.

“Wake up, human!” A tinny voice shrieks through the void like metal striking stone.

The icy blast and the voice combined bring me back to consciousness abruptly. I jerk my upper body upright. My eyes snap open and my head swivels. I can barely see, but what I make out conjures dread and pure hatred, two emotions that shake the bones in my body and nearly shatter my soul. Urthmen, unmistakable in all their horrific nastiness, are before me.

“No, no, no, no,” I try to scream but my words come out as little more than muffled, incoherent babble.

My vision is groggy and jumbled, yet I see them, a mess of dark shapes blurring together. But soon that mess focuses to a machete-sharp point, along with an ache in my forehead that is equally knifelike. The intense pain, coupled with my vision, confirms that I am alive. Impossibly, I am alive and conscious.

Consciousness brings with it not only the perception of intense pain and stinging cold, but also the realization of my predicament. My eyes scan the space before me. Cavernous stone, wet and gray, surrounds me on three sides, while metal rods fill the fourth from the ground I lie upon to the low, rocky ceiling. I am in a dark and chilly chamber corroded with tree roots, spider webs and bars.

Bars cover the entrance to a shadowy tunnel, the only apparent way out. And the four hulking Urthmen I saw as soon as my eyes opened are still holding dripping buckets, posted just beyond the bars.

My heart begins to patter frenetically. The harder it pounds, the more my head throbs. I am imprisoned. I do not know where I am or how I got here. All I know is that I am caged. I feel an immediate flash of anger when I look to my left and see my sister. She is conscious too. Caked blood mats her hair. She has raised her body so that she is on her hands and knees. Her frail body shivers and she heaves several times as if she may vomit.

“June,” I try to form the word from my lips but my mouth is uncooperative. Her name is absorbed by the atmosphere. “June,” I try again. This time my voice is stronger. It has graduated to a raspy whisper.

Even in her weakened condition, I still hear the relief in her tone. But I doubt she is even a fraction as relieved as I am to see her, to hear her voice and know that she is alive. Seeing her gives me a reason to survive, to fight.

“I-I think so,” she answers in a shaky voice. “But I don’t feel so good.”

The small act is met with skull-shattering jabs behind my eyes, but I do not care. June needs me. I can feel it. I promised her long ago that as long as my heart beats in my chest, I will find a way to get to her, no matter what. The distance between us is minimal, my sacrifice insignificant. I breathe deeply against the pain and regret it instantly. The fetid, sour stench of death permeates the air around me. I gag involuntarily. Twinges ricochet around my head like spearheads exploding into my brain. The effect staggers me. I grind my molars and pant, using every ounce of might to push against it, to push the pain to a remote place inside of me. I focus on June. I envisioned her as she was not long ago when we went to the meadow filled with wildflowers. We both fell asleep on that hot summer morning. But before that, June lay, her clear face the picture of peace while her golden tendrils fanned out around her head and coiled around stems. I can see her clearly in my mind’s eye, smell the flowers and feel the sunshine on my skin. It’s as if a gentle breeze, perfumed with the sweet smell of grass and earth and a vague combination of flowers, blows and replaces the foul odor of rot and a heated glow encroaches on the darkness. I can almost feel the warm swath of sunlight heating my skin, ridding me of the aches and chills that have settled deep in my pores.

I place one foot in front of the other. My legs are unsteady as I make my way toward her. The small area spins for a moment but I will it to stop. I grip the rough wall for stability. As soon as I am close to her, I drop to my knees and place both hands on her shoulders.

I know she hears me, but she does not listen. She turns into me despite my warning and slips her arms around my neck. The movement makes her wince and I wish I could find and personally kill the beast responsible for her injuries. They all look similar. It would be a nearly impossible task, but one that I would relish in if given the chance. I silently pledge that if we survive by some inexplicable and extraordinary stroke of luck, I will kill them. I will kill them all. I will watch the Urthmen fall if it takes me a lifetime to see it through. They will pay for what they have done to my mother, to Will’s parents, to June, and all of humanity.

As I hold June close to my chest and try to calm her trembling form, I examine the cave further. I see Will, Oliver and Riley. They are dripping as I am. We have all been awakened with frigid water.

“No too bad,” Oliver says. “My head hurts and is fuzzy, but I think I’m okay.”

“Where are we?” Will asks. The confusion scrawled across his features mirrors mine.

“Looks like some kind of underground prison,” I say. The gravity of my words seizes me in an ironfisted grip. We are locked up awaiting a fate that can only be awful.

With nothing left to lose, I release June and stand. I ignore the complaints of my muscles and joints and fly to the bars. I grip one cold, metal rod in each hand.

“Hey! Hey!” I shout at the Urthmen standing nearby. My voice sounds rough and primal. It wells from a place in me that wants to protect my sister and friends, to survive. The conversation between the Urthmen stops and they train their beady eyes on me. “What are we doing in here? Why are we caged?” I demand. “Why didn’t you just kill us?” I scream, launching question after question at them.

I know they are stunned by my outburst. I can see it in the slight tick of the expression of the Urthman closest to me. But his shock, as well as the others’ shock, is short lived.

He closes the distance between us in the time it takes me to blink, moving with swiftness I thought Urthmen incapable of, and swings the object he holds. My knuckles are smashed with his bucket before I have time to react. Without warning, wood clashes with skin and bone. I cry out in agony. Blistering pain rockets from the joints in one hand halfway up my arm.

“You filthy monsters!” Will shouts when I drop to my knees and clutch both hands to my chest. In my periphery, I see that he lunges at them, sticking his arms through the bars to try to grab them. But I am hurting too badly to try to stop him. His attempt to defend me could get him hurt too, or worse.

The Urthman closest laughs at him. “Shut your mouth, human! All of you shut your mouths!” the Urthman orders. “You’ll find out what you need to know soon enough,” he says and another cruel snicker escapes him. “And I wouldn’t get used to it here. You won’t be here much longer.” Laughter erupts among them and continues until I feel as if my eardrums will explode from the horrid sound. Will charges at them a second time. I reach out a smarting hand and stop him.

“Don’t,” I manage through my teeth. “It’s not worth it. They’re not worth it.”

He mumbles something inaudible under his breath and stares down the Urthmen with the ferocity of a wild animal. Rage radiates from him. I feel it. It glows like an ember. I brim with a similar fire. But for the time being, there is nothing either one of us can do about it. We are trapped, prisoners of Urthmen.

In truth, I think bones have been bruised badly, at least two. She will see as much if she glimpses them. Swelling has already begun, and attempting to bend the ones I suspect are injured results in stabbing pain. I hug her. “What happened to us? How did we get here?” I ask. My face is buried in her hair. I wonder whether my words are muffled when she does not respond right away.

Her words, the expression on her face, both unite and chill me to my core. She is right, of course.

“I remember being hit in the field,” Will says. His voice echoes through the cavernous hollow in which we are being held. “I have a knot on the back of my head,” he says and rubs his hand up the nape of his neck to the top of his head. He groans. “Oh wow, it’s tender.” He pulls his hand away and looks at it. Flecks of dried blood dot it.

“My head hurts in the same place,” Riley adds. “And I have a huge lump. Ouch!” she cries as she touches the back of her head.

“Looks like we were all taken the same way: a nice blow to the back of the head,” Will says with disgust.

I no longer embrace June, but she remains near, her small frame curled against mine. The meager warmth from her is a comfort. So is her scent, though it is tinged with dampness, and blood.

“Why do you suppose we’re here?” Will asks. “I’ve never heard of anything like this, have you?”

“No, never,” I confess. “I’ve only known them to kill, immediately, like it’s something they can’t help but do.”

“I know. That’s all I’ve known my entire life. This,” he says and splays his arms at his sides. “Whatever is going on here, it’s bad.”

I agree with Will, but I do not dare say as much in front of the children. I think that whatever is to come will be far worse than anything we could possibly imagine, worse than our most terrifying nightmares.

Approaching footsteps add to my sense of impending doom. My head whips toward the bars and the sound. Six more Urthmen approach. They wear what resembles metal melted to fit their bodies like skin, and dread slithers down my spine.

“Open the cage,” one orders the Urthmen posted beyond our cage. “It’s their time.”

“Our time for what?” June turns to me and asks. Her eyes are wide with fright and her voice trembles.

The Urthman that bashed my knuckles with his pail fumbles in his pocket for a moment and retrieves keys. Once he finds them and unlocks our cell door, he opens it.

“Let’s go,” one of the armored Urthmen barks and gestures for us to leave the cave.

“Move now!” he screams when I don’t move right away. But his tone, added to the metal he wears and the deadly looking blade he carries, sets my limbs into motion. I do as he says and walk out. June follows. She slips her hand in mine and squeezes. Will, Oliver and Riley are right behind us.

Three of the six Urthmen are ahead of us. They begin walking. Their armor rattles and clacks as they march. Deep-seated intuition warns that perhaps it is a death march, and we are the guests of honor.

“Keep going, straight down the corridor,” the Urthman continues to instruct us. He and the other two with him pick up the rear.

I have no clue what is happening or where we are being led, just that we have to follow. I try to glance over my shoulder to gauge Will’s reaction to what is happening and see that it is no different from mine. He looks equal parts scared and confused. His eyes roam the hallway. There is nothing to see, but there is a faint buzz in the air I have never experienced before, an excitement that resonates in the atmosphere and is palpable. And it is more than the nervous energy radiating from us. Terror does not charge it. It is something else entirely. I find myself panicked by what generates it.

As we walk, what began as a weak hum transforms. It surges around the walls of the tunnel. Growling and rolling like a hungry beast, it echoes and grows louder the longer we walk. By the time we are midway down the corridor, the sound is a deafening roar. Even the walls vibrate. I have never heard such a commotion. Thunderous cheers, clapping, and stomping, all merge to create a rumble that shakes the earth beneath my feet.

I cannot hear my thoughts by the time we reach the end of the tunnel and stand before a cage with a closed door on the other side of it.

“Get in now!” The Urthman bellows and begins shoving us inside. Once we are all in, he slams the cage door shut and locks it with just us inside.

“Oh my gosh,” I breathe. My heart is hammering so hard it pummels my ribs. “What’s happening?” I scream. My voice is shrill. It echoes the utter panic I feel.

“Shut up, human!” the Urthman who unlocked the gate booms. “You’ll find out soon enough!” He cackles then steps away. When he reappears, he is holding an armful of objects. I see my sword. He throws it at me, then tosses a large blade to Will before passing smaller ones to the children.

“Why are you arming us?” I ask. I am more confused than I have ever been in my life.

None of the Urhmen responds. They back away and head back down the tunnel, except two. Two remain with us, each holding a bow and arrow.

Noise ebbs and flows like a tide lapping against a shoreline all around us. The cause of it remains unknown.

Will nudges me. His shoulder rests against mine and he looks at me. “I don’t like this,” he shouts over the rumbling.

As soon as the words leave my lips, the door in front of us falls open, taking the far wall of our cage with it. Bright light blinds us. I squint and raise a trembling hand to my brow.

“What? Where are we?” I ask and know fully that I will not receive an answer.

“Go!” he shouts. I glance over my shoulder, and immediately see that arrows are pulled taut in their bows. “Out now, or we’ll fire and kill you where you stand!” he roars a final time.

My body lurches into action. I stumble but regain my footing quickly. My movement spawns a plume of dusty particles to kick up. When the cloud clears, I look down and realize I am standing on pale sand. The light-colored sand and the intense brightness distort my perception. But I am able to see Will, June, Oliver, and Riley when they are beside me. They all scramble and move closer to me. I look around and my jaw drops.

A roar erupts all around me, the same roar I heard in the tunnel, only much louder. The sound is earsplitting. And now I see the source of it. Tiers of seats begin at ground level and rise high into the sky. Urthmen fill the benches, though most are on their feet shouting, stomping, pumping their fists, and flailing animatedly. There must be thousands of them. And their attention turns to us. We have entered an arena. The roar, the screaming and chanting, all of it is for us. The crowd is calling for our blood to be spilled. They are calling for our deaths.

“This can’t be happening” June cries and wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing so tightly it almost hurts. She is crying and shaking. I feel like doing the same. I hold her tightly with one arm and clutch my sword with my free hand.

The cheering is quickly replaced by boos and jeers. I feel an object strike my temple. I touch my hand to my head. A slimy substance coats the spot that was hit. I sniff my fingers. The matter is foul, like spoiled food. I look on the ground and see that a rotten tomato sits at my feet. More moldy and decomposing produce is launched at us. Several pelt my body. But I am less concerned about the putrid fruits and vegetables hurled our way than I am about the humans I see lying in the sand in the distance.

Will draws her close. He rubs her back. “Don’t look,” he tells her and guides her face toward his midsection. “Breathe in through your nose until your belly fills then blow out through your lips.”

The moment is surreal, listening and watching Will comfort Riley about her panting when we are on display in what can only be described as a coliseum similar to the ones I’d learned about in ancient textbooks. I feel as if I am in a dream, the worst dream my brain could possibly conjure.

The nightmarish sensation multiples tenfold when I see two Urthmen saunter from a doorway, grip the humans by their feet and drag them away, leaving a trail of blood behind as the only reminder of their existence.

My gaze is pinned on the scarlet streaks until one of the largest Urthmen I have ever seen steps from the shadows across from us. Even though he is not near, it is plain to see that he towers and likely doubles June’s height. Clad in armor from head to toe, he clutches a long thick sword unlike any I have ever seen before in one hand and a shiny shield in the other. He begins walking toward us.

I want to scream, to run, to do something, anything, but I am paralyzed by fear.

The promise of bloodshed quivers through the air like the strike of a finely honed blade, and awareness makes me shudder. The gargantuan Urthman is headed for us. We are armed and expected to fight him as entertainment for those in the arena.

An Urthman dressed in an ornate, brightly colored costume steps to the center of the round surface we stand upon. A hush befalls the crowd.

“For our next event,” he begins. “We have this ragtag group of lowly humans. They killed four of our brothers and sisters in the residential area of Elmwood just hours ago.” More booing ensues and is accompanied by a slew of words I have never heard before. I assume they are terrible judging from the hateful expressions on the faces of those screaming them. Taunts and hissing continues until the Urthman at center stage motions with his hands for the crowd to be still. “Let’s see how they handle the Undefeated Champion of the World, a brother who needs no introduction, with more than three hundred kills, please put your hands together for Throm!”

The beast that loomed has made it to where we are. He raises his arms and the crowd erupts, cheering. Up close, I can see Throm clearly. His oblong head bulges on one side. His eyes are black, but rimmed in ruby-red, and one hangs markedly lower than the other, lending his appearance an aspect of fright that nearly matches his imposing height. He does not have a nose, just holes that are larger and deeper looking than any other Urthman I have had the misfortune of seeing, and his mouth is little more than a cruel slash across the lower half of his face. He rears his head back and the slash widens to reveal jagged teeth that resemble rows of sharpened arrow tips, and I feel my heart stop mid-beat.

Throm throws his meaty arms in the air again. One holds a blade and the other a shiny shield. The crowd explodes in a frenzy. They are jumping to their feet and cheering. The noise level rises to the point I fear my ears will bleed. But bleeding ears would be a welcome occurrence next to what Throm has in store for us.

Throm looks to her and nods. He rolls his head from side to side, his thick neck cracking as he does. Veins protrude from it and run the length of his stubby neck which seems to immediately give way to broad, rounded shoulders. He is a mountain of a being, composed of heaps of thick muscle. And his gaze zeroes in on us.

“Get behind us!” I scream to the children. Will and I stand shoulder to shoulder, though I am certain there is nothing we can do to defend ourselves against Throm.

Throm advances with speed that betrays his size. My insides plummet to my feet when he is just about on us. I grip my blade with both hands, the ache of bruised fingers suddenly irrelevant, and swing my blade. Throm instantly moves his shield and blocks my swipe with ease. Will makes a similar attempt only to have his blade connect with Throm’s shield as well. Only this time, Throm raises his shielded arm high and brings it down against Will’s body. Will careens through the air and lands hard on the ground. I try to attack, slicing the air with my sword in a pitiful attempt at stopping Throm. My blade meets the armor at his back and causes no damage. I grit my teeth in frustration. The mammoth Urthman is a coward, wrapped in protective metal to prevent any harm from coming his way. Fighting him is like fighting a steel wall.

I shuffle to my side, careful to keep my body between Throm and the kids, just as he attacks. He hefts his oversized sword and hacks the air laterally. I try to deflect it, but the angle he attacks from is elevated. That and his overwhelming strength cause my stance to falter. His razor-sharp edge slices the flesh at my forearm.

I howl out in pain and the crowd cheers wildly as my blood dots the white sand below. “Throm! Throm! Throm!” they chant in unison.

I ignore the sting of my cut and lunge at him. I cleave the air and meet his shield. As my body is outstretched, Throm wastes no time and lances the span between us. The tip of his blade drags across my stomach.

I immediately feel a warm gush flow from the wound. Blood seeps from it and wets my shirt. Seeing this, the audience becomes frantic with feverish delight. Their chaotic excitement fills the space.

My vision doubles and becomes bleary. The noise surges and returns in intervals and I fear I will fall. From the corner of my eye, I see Will leaps from the ground and charges Throm. Oliver joins his brother, and Riley and June follow. I want to scream for him to stop, for all of them to stop, but all I can focus on is the sudden weight of my sword. I look at it; follow the silvery line of it until my gaze lands on an image of Throm with his blade held high over his head and June just below his. He is about to cleave her in half.

The sight jolts me into action. With a war cry, I pitch my arms forward, driving my sword high, into his raised arm. My blade only reaches his wrist, but severs his hand from that point. The hand, along with his sword, crashes to the sand below. June races behind me, and Throm howls out, a bloodcurdling sound that shrivels my intestines.

Every Urthmen watching is on their feet. They boo and hiss. When Throm spins toward me though, they clap and seem to regain some of their enthusiasm, but not for long. Will leaps onto Throm’s back and struggles for a moment before his blade is at the beast’s throat. He slices it open and both he and Throm fall to the ground.

Utter silence blankets the audience when Will stands and Throm does not. I scan hideous face after hideous face and see that each is frozen in shock. A flurry of activity nearly kicks up a sandstorm at the edge of the area floor across from us. Within no time, doors open and a half-dozen Urthmen charge from them. They are not as big as Throm, but are covered in armor and intimidating, nevertheless.

A stream of tears spills from my eye and down my cheek when I look at them then to my wounds. I know we will die, that we will not overcome the odds. Still, I raise my sword. My strength is draining fast and blood seeps from my cuts.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Will then turn to June. “I love you, June. I’m so sorry I failed you.”

June drops her sword and runs to me. She is sobbing when she says, “Good-bye, Avery. I love you, too.”

“Kill these humans!” the announcer who introduced Throm says. At his urging, all six of the Urthmen take off toward us.

In my periphery, I see two Urthmen leap from the stands to the arena floor. Dread courses through my veins and pumps in time with my chaotic heartbeat. I assume the Urthmen intend to aid those headed our way, and that we will not even make it until the six advancing descend on us. They wear hooded cloaks and as they draw nearer, I see them pull their robes from their body then grip their chins and peel the skin from their faces. June shrieks and buries her head in my torso. My eyes dart from the pair that jumped from their seats to the others approaching. I don’t know who I should be more afraid of.

When my gaze returns to the two who shed their cloaks, I see that what they pulled was skin, just not their own. Human faces are revealed. Both appear to be around my age. One is tall with dark skin and equally dark eyes, and the other is pale like me with sandy colored hair.

The blonde boy pulls two objects from a leather strap at his waist as he runs toward the impending conflict. He aims both at the Urthmen. A loud popping sounds from both devices. I flinch and instinctively cover June’s head. Peeking, though, I see two of the six Urthmen fall. Elation twirls in my gut. I am glad to see them die. My eyes are pinned to the two humans that sprang from the stands. My gaze moves to the large man with the dark skin. He holds a sizable mallet. He swings it with ease and slams it into the head of another Urthman, whipping his head back with a loud snap. The blonde boy yells, “Now!” and the dark-skinned man drops the mallet and pulls out another contraption. Additional popping sounds ring out, and two more Urthmen crumple.

Everything happens so fast. I am dizzy from blood loss and shock, from fear and adrenaline. Grotesque faces grimace all around me, a macabre sight that chills me to my bones.

Will and I should be taking cover, but with a hostile crowd and no other way out, I doubt cover exists at this point. Instead, we huddle together, Will and I use our bodies to shield the children.

“I don’t know,” I answer, though it looks as if that is exactly what the one guy is using. It doesn’t seem possible that they would have guns. From what I was told, there hasn’t been a working gun in the hands of any creature for more than a hundred years.

As soon as the words leave him though, the blonde boy holsters the weapons. They appear to be malfunctioning and he is forced to use two daggers he pulls from a sheath at his leg when the final Urthman standing is upon him.

The crowd waits with bated breath for the blonde to fall. But as soon as the Urthman is close and swing his sword, the blonde ducks. When he springs up, he rams his daggers beneath his armor and turns the blades. The dark-skinned boy with him fumbles with a device in his hands, and before long, a thunderous explosion booms and rocks the ground beneath my feet.

Riley is crying and Oliver’s entire body quakes. In distance, I see that the far wall, near the place where the six Urthmen charged from, has crumbled. The outside world is visible.

The Urthmen in the stands clamber as panic and confusion sweeps through the stadium.

“We need to get out of here! Come on kids!” I grab June’s hand and look around. All I see are Urthmen clustered together and bumping into one another. Chaos has overtaken the entire arena. I look away from them and search for a way out.

As I do, I notice the blonde boy is racing toward us. He reaches us quickly and grips my arm. “Let’s go, now! There’s no time to waste!” he shouts. He tugs me toward the gaping hole in the stadium wall. I do not know who he is or where he came from. All I know is that right now, he has a plan to get us out of the stadium in which we almost met our demise. He clutches my hand, and I let him lead me, all of us, out into the brilliant daylight.

I struggle to run. The gash at my stomach complains at my every movement, but staying in the arena and being slaughtered by Urthmen is not an option. Instead, I cling to the hand that holds mine like a lifeline and allow myself to be led through the hole blown in the wall.

Once outside, I am drenched in sunlight. Warm rays kiss every inch of my exposed skin and heat the clothing I wear. A cool breeze gusts and feels as if it is blowing straight through me. The effect of the conflicting sensations would be pleasant were it not for the fact that blood continues to flow from my midsection.

I try to continue, but it is an effort. “I-I don’t know if I can keep going,” I say. My voice sounds thin; even I can hear it. It echoes how I feel.

Slightly muffled and distorted, Will’s words sound as if they are echoing from the end of a long tube. Iw place my hand atop the wet spot on my shirt then pull it away and look at it. My palm and every finger are coated in bright red. “Oh no,” I say and feel my legs begin to give out from beneath me.

A dizzying rush of color, the pastel blue of the sky, the soft gold of the sunlight and the rich green of the trees in the distance, rushes at me in a kaleidoscopic jumble. I start to falter. Darkness teases in my peripheral vision and I feel myself fall. But before I hit the ground, strong arms circle my waist and grapple me, settling me to a seated position gently.

“Whoa there, I gotcha,” a voice says. My eyelids flutter. I fight against the dark tide pulling me down, tempting me with oblivion. Between my eyelashes, I spy short hair similar in color to mine. Straight, sandy-blonde wisps with a scattering of pale streaks cover his forehead. “Come on, stay with me,” the voice echoes from nothingness, towing me toward it. “What’s your name?” it asks.

“I need you to open your eyes, okay. I need you to look at me,” the voice continues.

Frantic voices sound all around me. I am vaguely aware of a young girl crying. The voice, the soft, musical voice rings through the air and wrenches me, connecting every synapse in my brain until I realize the young girl crying is June.

At those words, I force my eyes open. My gaze is met with a pair of brown eyes dressed with long, dark lashes.

“Hey, welcome back,” the eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the edges. I lower my gaze and see a jovial half-smile. His expression seems absurd given the circumstances, yet I am hypnotized by it. “I’m Sully, and that’s my friend Jericho.” He thumbs over his shoulder to the tall, dark-skinned man I saw in the arena.

“And I’m Will,” I hear Will chime in. “Now can we please get out of here?”

“Hi Will,” Sully says, but his eyes do not leave mine. “We’ll go as soon as she’s able.”

I know I should look to the depraved beasts headed our way as everyone but Sully is, but I can’t. I’m incapable of looking away from Sully for fear I will lose what little calm I cling to.

I jerk slightly, ripping my eyes from Sully for a split second and try to twist to see what Jericho is doing, but doing so causes pain so intense it knocks the air from my lungs. Confirming what I worried was true, my heart pounds and blood leaks from my wounds vigorously. My gaze returns to his face and I decide to keep them there.

“Oh don’t worry about what he’s doing,” Sully says calmly when my body faces him once again. “He has something for the Urthmen they’ll never forget.” An edge of humor tints his words. I do not see anything funny about being pursued by Urthmen. “I’m going to lift your shirt and get a look at your wound, okay?”

I nod in agreement and feel the wet fabric of my shirt peel away from the slash. “Ouch!” I protest.

“Sorry,” Sully says. “Okay, it’s not too bad.” Deep golden eyebrows, gathered in concern, betray his words though. “But the bleeding needs to be stopped. You’re losing too much blood.” He lowers my shirt and trains his gaze on my face.

“First, we have to get out of here,” Sully answers, and again, his eyes remain on me. “Jericho, now would be a good time.”

At his words and at the sight of approaching Urthmen, Jericho tinkers with a square device with odd knobs. He adjusts one and a thunderous explosion rocks the ground beneath me. Sharp and quick, the deep-bass bang is immediately followed by a sound similar to heavy rainfall. Pressure builds against my eardrums. I topple over and land against Sully’s solid chest, ears ringing faintly. I stiffen and try to right myself, the vague noise in my ears only adding to an already agonizing experience.

“I gotcha, don’t worry, Avery,” Sully says in a voice that is low, almost intimate. I don’t know why, but I am soothed by it. A hand cups my elbow, Sully’s hand, and guides it upward. “Slowly, okay. Take it slow,” he advises me.

“That should keep those cowards busy for a little while, but they will regroup soon; make no mistake about it. We need to move fast,” Jericho says.

I strain my eyes and turn my head to see that the Urthmen who haven’t been blown to pieces are scattering from a cloud of sand and strewn debris. They run in the opposite direction from us. The scene is marked by chaos and confusion. A chilly, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

That smirk falters when Sully encourages me to walk by beginning to do so himself. Reluctantly, I look away from the mayhem and I take several clumsy steps. My strength has been sapped and searing pain ricochets from every angle. Awareness that I will not be able to continue only adds to the pain. “Go. You guys go ahead,” I urge everyone after sliding my foot forward only to experience excruciating twinges and a gush of my lifeblood seeping from the cut at my stomach. “I can’t,” I say in frustration.

But before I can say another word, Jericho steps between Sully and I and scoops me up like a child. “You will not stay behind, Avery,” his deep voice rolls soothingly. Powerful and capable, his arms are hoops of thick steel. They hold me high off the ground and I realize he is not much smaller than the Urthman who injured me in the arena. His rich, dark skin is scarred, but his eyes, nearly the same color as his skin, are clear, pristine. They radiate a kindness and warmth that makes my own shine with tears.

“I’ll carry her, Jericho,” Will says. His face is etched in stone, a strange, unfamiliar expression clouding his features.

“Uh, I think we’ll move a lot faster with him carrying her,” Sully says to Will.

A tiny rumble of laughter resonates and seems to echo from somewhere deep inside Jericho. Will huffs and mumbles something I cannot hear. Jericho does not wait any longer or debate. He runs, his long, muscular legs covering ground quickly with their elongated stride. Over his shoulder, I see June is being carried by Sully and Riley by Will.

We run for what seems like forever. The jarring and bumping makes blood rush from me faster, and pain unlike any I have ever felt branch from my cut. Jericho slows then stops after he crosses an expansive piece of property at the edge of which a barn sits. Sully opens a wide, wooden door and we hurry inside.

The interior of the barn is decrepit. An entire upper level has collapsed atop stalls and cobweb covered shelves sag as if bearing the weight of heavy snow rather than silken threads.

“Set her down over here where the light is good,” Sully says and points to a location I cannot see.

Jericho places me on what feels like a pile of dried grass. It is stiff and prickly, but at the same time soft and comfortable.

“All right, Avery, I’m not gonna lie, this is going to hurt.” Sully’s voice is laden with what sounds like guilt.

“What’s going to hurt her?” Winded and flushed, Will is coated in sweat. He can barely catch his breath to speak when he appears at my side.

“Don’t hurt my sister, please!” June joins Will and stands beside him. Her hands fly to her mouth when her eyes land on my torso. “Oh my gosh! Avery!” she gasps.

“I won’t mean to hurt your sister, but I have to do something to stop the bleeding. If she keeps bleeding like she is, she’ll die.” Sully is blunt with June, a fact that makes me bristle. I do not know why. She needs to know the truth. Still, my instincts balk at his forthrightness. “Here,” he tells me and brandishes a flat stick. “Bite down on this as soon as I start. I’ll be right back.”

Sully leaves me for a minute and meets Jericho near the barn door. They riffle through a bag until Jericho holds a tube of something and Sully holds a large, hooked needle and a spool of thread.

The overwhelming stench of blood, my blood, smoke and rotting wood pollutes my lungs and makes me gag. Desperation and panic rise within me. I wonder what it is that Sully plans to do to me. He told me it would hurt, that I may need to bite down on a short plank of bark as a laboring woman would. Both have my heart hammering away painfully, like strikes of a sledge hammer.

“It’s okay, Avery. Everything’s going to be fine,” Will tells me. But his words have little effect on the ice chips charging through my veins.

June places her head on my shoulder. Rubbing her cheek against the fabric of my shirt she whispers, “Please be okay, Avery.”

Her words wrap around me and encircle my heart, melting it. “I’ll be fine, June. Good as new.” I square my shoulders and sit up as best I can, feeling compelled to live up to her high expectations of me.

But when Sully returns, the woozy, sick feeling returns. He holds a tubular container of liquid. “First I’m going to clean it, then I’m going to sew it up.”

A quick glance at Jericho reveals that his head is cocked to one side, his expression compassionate. He frowns and says, “It won’t help the pain, but it will give you control.”

His honesty is appreciated. I slip the fat stick between my teeth and know there’s no turning back. Part of me feels foolish with my mouth wide and the stick lodged in it sideways, that is, until the first drop of liquid touches my flesh when it is applied with a white, fluffy swatch of fabric.

The moment the wet fabric swabs my skin, a sound rips from me that I didn’t think myself capable of making. Burning, stinging pain shoots from every direction around the open cut. I cry out against the wood in my mouth, my back teeth gnashing against it. Sweat stipples my brow, yet I am cold and my body trembles. The sting is followed by the sensation of something sharp being inserted along the edge of the wound. I inhale sharply and clench my abdominal muscles against the twinge. It continues, the torturous stab of the hooked instrument passing between the upper and lower portion, then tugging it together, closed.

I start to feel as if I won’t be able to endure the pain any longer. I close my eyes and try to envision a peaceful, painless experience. They are few, but they exist in my memory. I draw upon them, calling to mind when June and I were at the river not long ago. She was upset because I’d unintentionally insulted her. To redeem myself and remind her that the magic of littleness was not lost on me, I began bouncing and splashing, scooping handfuls of water and slapping my palms up before the water returned to the river. When my hands collided with the water and smacked it, droplets sprayed in every direction. At first, June had rolled her eyes at my antics, but before long, she couldn’t resist and joined in. We stomped and flopped and splashed in the water until our bellies hurt from laughter. Carefree, even if just for a short time, we had fun. We got to act our ages.

Recalling that day makes me forget the smarting around my wound. It temporarily diverts the discomfort.

When I open my eyes, I am focused and feel as if I am better able to govern my pain.

My gaze scans the faces in the room. Oliver looks green, as if he may vomit at any minute. I have to say, I share his feeling to some extent. Keeping my mouth partially open and grinding my molars against the wood leaves me feeling queasy in addition to the slew of other horrendous sensations I am wrestling.

Will is beside Oliver. His suntanned skin has blanched somewhat and his arms are folded across his chest. His expression softens considerably when he catches me watching him. I quickly look away and turn my gaze to June. Sweet, innocent June’s face is puffy and pink, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She smiles feebly as soon as she feels my eyes on her and I force one of my eyes to wink. Riley does not look much better. She alternates between sobbing and sniffling. The children have been through too much already. Seeing this only adds to their many ordeals and burdens minimally.

My eyes are drawn to him. He looks up from what he is doing and I am amazed by how nimble his hands are. Long, slender fingers continue to move agilely even when he is not watching them. “Last time I did this for Jericho, he cried like a baby.” I open my jaw and allow the wood to drop. I smile at him and his eyes lower to where he works.

“How do you do that?” I ask of his ability to sew through flesh and bring it together as it was before.

“Sully can fix anything, even people,” Jericho says. His voice flows like a mighty river when he speaks, surging with truth and loyalty.

I wince briefly as the needle pricks through my flesh yet again, losing my concentration. “What about the gun? That was a gun you had at the arena, right?”

Before Sully answers, Jericho says, “I told you, he can fix anything.” He beams with pride, much like a father would at his child.

“Whatever he said,” Sully says and arcs an eyebrow mischievously. He moves on to the cut on my arm. He cleans it and begins stitching it as well. “I learned a long time ago to just agree with him. No one ever wants to get on his bad side.”

I look down and see that my largest wound is closed and the next is well on its way to being closed as well.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” June gushes. “Thank you!” she says and throws her arms around Sully’s neck.

“My pleasure,” he says and watches me over June’s shoulder. Then to himself, he says, “Just a few more here, and done.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” I say. “What you did for me, it’s, I don’t know, just incredible.” I fumble for the right words. No one has ever done anything for me as momentous as what Sully just did. He healed my broken body. I doubt a simple “thanks” is sufficient.

From the corner of my eye, I see that Will’s brow is furrowed. The small muscles around his jaw are flexing and his posture is tense.

“Isn’t it incredible, Will?” I ask so that he knows I am okay, that there is no need to worry any longer. But his stony demeanor does not change. In fact, it hardens when he glances at Sully.

“Yeah, Sully is terrific,” Will says without the slightest bit of enthusiasm or sincerity.

I narrow my eyes at Will, searching his face for a reason for his suddenly sour mood. I am all better now. He shouldn’t be concerned. But he is.

“Listen, Avery, I know you’re still in pretty bad shape, but we need to get out of here. Urthmen don’t stay gone for long, not when they’ve been humiliated as they’ve been today,” Sully says. One side of his mouth tilts and forms a half-smile. “They’ll find us if we stay.” His smile wilts and his expression becomes serious. “Think you can run?”

“Uh, I think so,” I answer honestly. Sitting up, I twist. The stitches pull with every movement. But compared to the pain I felt before, this new discomfort is trivial. “I can run. My life depends on it.” I slide from where I sat and stand. I still feel shaky.

June approaches me cautiously and hugs me so lightly I can barely feel her willowy arms circling me. “I’m so glad Sully fixed you. We’re lucky to have met him,” she says quietly.

“Ah, you keep complimenting me, you’ll never be able to get rid of me,” Sully teases.

June’s cheeks blush and her mouth twists to one side. For once, she is speechless.

“We’re not looking to get rid of you,” I shock myself by saying. I don’t blush, which is all the more shocking. Instead, I meet his gaze and stare directly into his eyes.

Colored a deep, dark-brown hue that matches winter trees at twilight, I see something in them that lures me. His eyes are rich with secrets and loss, pain and sadness. They communicate darkness that transcends the color of his irises and delves to uncharted depths. I cannot explain why, but I feel compelled to ease that ache in him, and a little scared too.

Sully smiles a broad, almost defiant smile, though I am at a loss for what exactly he is defying. “Good,” he says.

“Great. We’ll have that to look forward to,” Will says in the same inflectionless tone he used before.

Embarrassment flickers across his face before a tight smile stretches his lips. “Grumpy, why would I be grumpy?” he asks.

He slings a backpack over one shoulder and leads the way out of the barn. I take June’s hand and follow him. Will, Riley, and Oliver are close behind us, and Jericho picks up the rear. We venture out into the brilliant daylight. I do not know where we are going or what the future holds, all I know is that we’ve found two more humans. Sully and Jericho risked their lives to save us. I would’ve died if they hadn’t acted. The debt I owe them is great, and owing another is unfamiliar. But for now, I cannot think about repaying them. That will come later. All that matters now is that we survive, one moment at a time.

“You live here with Urthmen? How do you not get caught?” Will asks and does not temper the incredulity in his tone.

Even though I am not looking at Sully’s face, I can hear that he is wearing a half-smile when he replies to Will. Neither says anything further and we continue to run.

June is ahead of me. Lengths of coiled gold trail behind her, glistening in the warm, buttery sunlight. She pumps her arms as her legs work and her feet take turns hitting the ground. Watching her streak across the field, I am reminded of how fast she is, and how beautiful she is.

My throat tightens inexplicably. I swallow hard against the lump that has gathered there. June deserves better than the life she lives, all of us do. Peace is what we crave most, peace and a semblance of normalcy. We do not have either. Instead, we are fleeing for our lives; where we are fleeing to remains the question. Only Sully knows. Somehow, I doubt it will be as picturesque as the scenery before us.

The landscape is far different from where June, Will, Riley, and I first entered from the forest. Even though I am running, I am not oblivious of it. Covered in lush grass with full trees interspersed intermittently, low hills roll as far as I can see. The vibrant green stretches, reaching until it meets the horizon line. There, a vivid blue sky greets it. It is hard for me to imagine the earth I run on is the same place I arrived at yesterday. It is harder to imagine that creatures as vile as Urthmen reign over space so lovely, especially after seeing how they entertain themselves.

I push the arena, and the sight of humans being dragged with a trail of blood in their wake, to the back of my mind. It will haunt my days and nights for years to come. Urthmen, always Urthmen, are responsible for my nightmares, both when I sleep and when I wake.

We continue down a gentle slope that drops to a roadway lined by stout, closely spaced shrubs. The bushes are not much taller than Will or Sully. Jericho would have to crouch to be concealed by them.

A rumble sounds in the distance, the crackle and crunch of something heavy rolling over gravel. Faint at first, it grows nearer quickly. Sully’s head snaps in the direction of it.

“Everybody get down,” he says. “We’ve got company coming.” His eyes are hard but his mouth curves upward on one side to what resembles a partial grin.

A roar and crunch, familiar to the one I heard days earlier, swells. Vehicles are approaching. My heart shoots from my chest to my throat. My skin is suddenly cool and clammy and my breathing becomes short and shallow. But they are not a result of the weather or running, and they are not a result of my newly stitched wounds. The threat of being caught again is too awful to bear.

As if intuiting my quiet panic attack, Sully lightly grips my upper arm, careful to avoid the stitches on my forearm. “You won’t be taken in again,” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

His touch is a ribbon of fire that curls its way up my arm and blazes through my core, and his gaze is fixed on my face. Beyond him, I see Will. He is watching us; his eyes pinned on me as well. I shift uncomfortably, uncertain of what is happening, why they both watch me so intensely. But the crunch of wheels on gravel, an approaching vehicle, demands everyone’s attention.

“Ah, here come our guests,” Sully comments grimly as he parts a portion of the bushes so that I can see.

Thin limbs laden with prickly spines block much of my view. Still, I am able to make out a convoy, led by a wagon is passing.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasps as she peeks from beside me. “Not another one!” Her hands fly to cover her mouth.

I follow her line of vision and suck in a harsh breath. “I can’t believe it.”

The scene before my eyes is revolting. Six humans, caked in filth and wearing little more than cloths to cover their hips, are affixed to the cart with thick leather straps. Almost as revolting as the sight of humans pulling the wagon is the crowned monster perched atop it. His small, malformed head with closely set eyes the color of boart dung, and wide holes where a nose should sit, bobs along.

The features are similar in appearance to how every other Urthman looks. However, this particular Urthman possesses a dramatic difference. Thick, blubbery lips bounce as the wagon jostles him. They resemble twin tube-shaped animal skins stuffed with moss or another spongy substance. His mouth looks a lot like that of the gilled creatures that resides in lakes and streams. On them, it is commonplace. On the Urthman, the oversized lips look absurd.

But his lips are not the only strange aspect of his appearance. As he moves closer, I see him clearer and notice another. Shiny clothing crusted with a glittery substance I have never seen looks as if it will burst at the seams, his swollen belly straining against each article. Bloated legs and bulky arms end with hands and feet that look inflated.

The crown-wearing Uthman holds a whip in his meaty hand, flicking it sporadically across the backs of the humans. They flinch when the whip bites their skin. Each lash leaves behind a red welt. Swollen and bleeding, the welts cover raised, discolored flesh on their upper bodies.

Though I saw a similar scene unfold when we first arrived at the edge of the forest, my eyes still struggle to process what I am seeing, that the image before me is of humans pulling the Urthman’s cart like beasts of burden. My mind can’t seem to catch up and reconcile the view.

I look away, unable to watch the abuse any longer. I see Sully. His lips are pressed to a hard line and the color has drained from his face.

Sully laughs bitterly. “That’s a well-fed Urthman,” he says through his teeth. “See that crown on his head?” He points to golden wreath on the Urthman’s head. “That means he’s royalty.”

June’s eyebrows look as if they will disappear into her hairline at any moment.

“I know,” Sully says when he sees her surprised expression. “Seems ridiculous that one particular Urthman is special, right?”

June nods. “So being special means he gets to beat the humans pulling his wagon?” she asks, her eyes wide and shining with tears.

“Humans pulling that fat boart’s cart like animals, like Urthmen are above them!” Sully says and does not keep his tone quiet. He reaches to the holster at his waist and retrieves his gun. From his pocket, he produces bullets and begins loading them into the open chamber of the gun. He repeats the process with his other gun.

Ignoring me, Will continues. “You can’t do anything, Sully. There’s about twenty Urthmen in that convoy, and she’s hurt.” He jabs a finger in my direction. “And we have little kids here. We can’t risk it.”

In a swift, single motion, Sully reaches out a hand and grabs Will. For a split second, I worry he will strike him. But instead of fighting, he twists Will’s head toward the cart. He opens the bushes and says, “See that down there? You see them? Those are people, humans, our kind. Our brothers are being used like animals.” He releases Will’s head. “You’re damned right I’ll risk it. If it were you down there, or your sister or brother, wouldn’t you want someone to ‘risk it’ to save them?”

Will’s jaw works from side to side. His eyes are smooth, turquoise stones. His gaze slides to Sully. “But we are outnumbered.”

One side of Sully mouth slants upward. “Jericho, toss one into the ten Urthmen at the rear of the convoy.”

“With pleasure,” Jericho replies with a wicked grin. He digs into a satchel attached to a long strap that crosses his chest. He pulls out a rectangular package and throws it over the bushes and into the procession.

The line of Urthmen stop and look toward us. Sully stands and aims a small metal device at them and depresses a button at its center. The package detonates and a blast rocks the world around me. Limbs careen through the air and rain from the sky, landing all around us with gory thuds.

“I think their numbers just shrank,” Sully says with impish cheer just before he takes off toward the Urthmen.

Will looks from Sully to me. His expression is hard, but tenderness sparkles in his gaze for the briefest of moments, sending a wave of flutters pulsing through my belly. “Stay here,” he says to me and pleads with his eyes.

He dashes off after Sully and Jericho, and my fluttering stomach plummets to my feet.

“No, no! What’re they doing?” June asks me, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows. “Why are they going?”

I worry that they’re charging in to their death. Hot tears scald the backs of my eyelids. I feverishly blink against them. “They’ll be back,” I say. My voice cracks. “I hope,” I add.

I turn my attention back to the scene on the street. Dismembered legs and arms litter the street along with fragments of other body parts that I cannot identify. A few heads are intact and roll down the road. Sully immediately fires into the crowd. Three Urthmen fall before they even raise their clubs. The remaining seven swarm and he squeezes off another five shots. Three more fall. Confusion and mayhem ensues and I panic thinking I’ve lost track of Will and Sully. Jericho rises like a mountain, among the beasts. He grabs the first Urthman he sees and picks him up over his head. The Urthman squawks, a horrid, shrill sound that claws at my ears, just before Jericho slams him into the side of the carriage. Bones crack loudly. The Urthman slumps to the ground in a broken, lifeless heap.

Jericho turns and yanks his mallet from a sheath at his hip. He swings it in a wide arc. It connects with the head of a nearby Urthman, sending him flying to the pavement with half of his skull missing.

Seeing the carnage all around them, the two remaining Urthmen in the convoy drop their clubs and raise their hands in surrender.

The Urthman with the crown watches, wide-eyed, his fatty lips parted and jiggling. His pasty skin is flushed to an unhealthy shade of magenta. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, spittle spraying in every direction. “You must defend your prince! That is a royal order!”

“This is treason! You will be punished! I am Prince Neo and I hereby accuse you of treason!”

Sully approaches them, his gun aimed between them. “There is no surrendering,” he says. I hear two loud pops and both fall. He then leaps onto the cart. He slowly walks to the portly Urthman.

“Yes, and I can give you wealth beyond your wildest dreams. My father is King Leon. He will pay you whatever you want. Name your price.”

“Money, huh,” Sully says and scratches his chin with one of his weapon-wielding hands. “Hmm, that’s some offer.”

A long pause passes between them. I start to believe Sully is considering Prince Neo’s offer. The notion nauseates me.

“Your lives,” Sully says through his teeth. Two more pops ring out and I see Prince Neo collapse to one side.

Excitement rings through me with the clarity of a bell tolling. It resonates through my core and vibrates to my fingertips and toes. I am glad to see him die. If that makes me as bad as an Urthman then so be it.

Not everyone shares in my happiness to see the prince fall, however. A quick look at Will reveals that he is among those who do not. He stands eerily still, a troubled expression veiling his features.

“Let them go!” Sully shouts. “Free our people.” His voice echoes through the street, resounding with truth and righteousness through the cavernous hollows of my being. Goose bumps cover my skin. A part of me feels like clapping, applauding everything Sully has done until now. When Jericho unsheathes a machete from his thigh and hacks at the leather straps until they break, tears stream from my eyes freely.

All of them are wild-eyed. They babble and wander, mumbling incoherently to one another. Frightened and cagey, they resemble injured animals.

As soon as the last of the six is loose, they run off, rambling incomprehensibly.

Sully lowers his chin to his chest. He holsters his guns and shakes his head slowly then rakes his fingers through his hair. I resist the urge to run to him. I can feel his disappointment, his frustration.

“Their minds are broken,” Will says. “They’ll wander around aimlessly until they get themselves killed. They’ll be dead before the day’s end. We just risked our lives for nothing.”

Anger flashes across Sully’s face. For a moment, he looks every bit as deadly as he did when battling against Urthmen. “No,” he says, his tone so calm it is threatening. “We didn’t risk our lives without reason. Those men will live and die free, as every human should, not live and die chained to a cart like an animal.” He looks to Jericho who nods solemnly in agreement. He then turns and begins walking back toward the bushes, toward June, Riley, and Oliver; toward me. “Let’s go,” he says and does not look back.

I realize in the brief time it takes him to close the distance between us that I am honored to fight alongside him. He represents all that I have been taught, all that I am and will ever be. I realize that like June, Will, Riley and Oliver, Jericho and Sully are my future.

We travel for several more miles after Sully killed the convoy of Urthmen, crossing the street and remaining hidden by the trees that line the other side. While we do, the scene continues to replay in my head over and over. I search my heart for regret or remorse for what happened, even though I did not do the killing. But I come up empty. Maybe I am not better than the Urthmen as Will implied when I was about to kill the family of them back in town. Maybe he is right. Maybe I am a monster. If being a monster means wanting to live for more than just a day, to try to secure some kind of future for my sister and I, then I am every bit a monster. I want more than today, I want tomorrow, and many days, months and years thereafter. I want a life. I want to live. I wonder whether Will understands the difference between surviving and living.

Several times while we jog along, Will’s eyes meet mine. His expression is always the same: troubled. He’s likely seen more death and gore in the last week than in his entire life. Seeing his parents die at the hands of Urthmen has scarred him, of that I am confident. How could it not? All the other carnage only serves to further widen the aching chasm that has been opened within him. He did not approve of what Sully did earlier. He’d made that plain enough. I enthusiastically approve, but I still feel bad for Will. The wound of his parents’ deaths is still fresh. I try to convey to him with my eyes that I am sorry for his pain. There isn’t much I can say in front of everyone else. Preserving Will, Oliver and Riley’s privacy is important to me. They can share what they want with Sully and Jericho when or if they want to. It is not for me to determine that for them.

“We are going to the place where Jericho and I live. But listen June, and everyone else,” Sully addresses not just my sister, but all of us. “You need to do exactly as I say. The next turnoff will take us to the edge of a heavily wooded area. As soon as we get in there, everyone needs to follows my orders, okay?”

Will’s upper lip is lifted higher than usual. He shakes his head slowly, as if disgusted.

Amusement dances in Sully’s dark eyes. “You always have a choice. Just this one is either listen to me, or be blown to smithereens,” he says with a wink. “Choose wisely.”

Will is left with his mouth agape, a question or angry comment burning somewhere beyond it. Not waiting for it, Sully shrugs and turns from everyone. He continues leading us until the line of trees and shrubs we follow gives way to thicker clusters of growth.

The sun is not as high in the sky. I am hungry and exhausted. I would love nothing more than to eat and rest in a safe place. But we are out among Urthmen, in their territory. I doubt such a place exists.

We cross a small seasonal stream, swollen with water and leaves. Once we are across it, we are immediately swallowed by an abundance of thorny bushes and brush. Branches, crisscrossed at every turn, threaten to gouge our eyes and undergrowth tugs at our pant legs. Trees grow larger the deeper we delve and canopy our path, filtering much of the sunlight. Wherever it is we’re headed, I doubt any Urthmen would bother to look. The landscape is downright hostile. More than once, I hear June say, “Ouch!” and assume that, like me, she is getting pricked by spiny burrs and limbs.

As if the thorns aren’t enough, a riot of tangled vines slithers at our feet, waiting to trip us as we plod along. Sully and Jericho, of course, move easily, gracefully even.

Fortunately, the bushes and undergrowth start to thin and walking becomes a little easier.

“Okay, everybody stop,” the bass of Jericho’s voice pours from him like heated honey. He freezes, his massive body eerily still as his eyes sweep the surrounding area. He points to something I do not see at first. When I strain my eyes, though, I realize it is a nearly invisible wire about chest height. “You see this?” he asks us. We lean in and look. “This line leads to explosives. Animals indigenous to this area pass beneath or around it easily, but it is rigged to trigger those explosives when something heavy, like an Urthman, walks into it.”

“Each of us has to step under it carefully, then wait for further instruction,” Sully chimes in. “There are more like this one throughout the woods.”

“Don’t worry, sweetie, you’ll be fine. We’ll go together and just wait for Sully or Jericho to tell us what to do next,” I tell her.

Will expels air from his nose loudly. I snap my head toward him and tip my chin while furrowing my brow, as if to ask what the matter is. He rolls his eyes and frowns. I guess he is not a fan of Sully and therefore not happy about following his orders. I would prefer not to be blasted to bits as the Urthmen were in the convoy. I hope Will shares my wish to stay in one, whole piece. He gestures for June and I to go before him. I nod and turn my body sideways then dip my head and upper body beneath the wire. June does too. We repeat this process about ten more times, navigating an intricate labyrinth of lines, until I see a white clapboard structure with sooty streaks smudged from the upper windows to the roof. The paint is peeling and weeds have grown over the first-story windows, but I can clearly see that it is a house. Beside the house, two vehicles are parked. One is a truck and the other is, if my memory serves me correctly, a camper. I have never seen the latter, only heard of them and seen creased and faded images. Regardless, both appear to be in decent shape. They do not resemble the cars I saw lining the streets when we first ventured out of the forest.

Next to me, June’s grip on my hand tightens. “Whoa, is that a house?” she asks.

“Ah, home sweet home. Well, kind of,” Sully steps up beside me and says. His shoulder brushes mine and heat spirals from the point of contact, twisting down my arm and spreading through me like fire.

“Yep, that’s right,” he replies and takes a step back causing our arms to touch again.

“And there aren’t any Urthmen in there?” she asks, her brows gathered in concern.

“Everyone should have a place to call home, one that isn’t under constant attack,” he says earnestly.

“I guess we did for a while,” I say absently. “But the monsters that come out at night in the forest found us, and once they find you,” I allow my voice to trail off, but Sully finishes my sentence.

A pause spans for several beats. Will has taken Riley and Oliver to relieve themselves with Jericho covering them. I am alone with June and Sully.

“That’s right. Knowing this place is equipped with trip wires and bombs helps me sleep at night.”

Sully grips my upper arms and turns me so that I face him. His expression is intense, as his piercing eyes bore straight into my soul. “Tonight, you will sleep, I promise you that. Everything will be okay.” He holds me with both his hands and his gaze, but oddly, I do not feel nervous or uncomfortable. To my surprise, I am calm. It has been a long time since anyone has taken care of me in even the slightest way. Sully has saved my life three times; first in the arena, second when he stitched my wound, and third when we came upon the convoy. Being saved is foreign to me, but pleasant all the same.

“She needs it, Sully,” June says softly and breaks the powerful eye contact. “Avery is the best fighter there is. She’s killed boarts, Urthmen, spider-monsters, crazy humans who wanted to use her to breed more humans, and a bat. And that’s just in the last five days.” June frowns. Her eyes well up with tears. “She saves everybody all the time. She needs sleep. She needs someone to take care of her for once.”

Hot tears singe the backs of my eyelids. They appear suddenly, along with June’s stark observation. Her words have touched a nerve I did not anticipate was so raw.

“Wow,” Sully says and releases my arms. He turns his attention to June. “Sounds like your sister is something special, not that that surprises me or anything; I knew she was the second I saw her in the arena.” He pokes the tip of her small nose. “And as long as she’s with me, I’ll give her a break, okay? I’ll take good care of her.”

June looks as if she may explode. Emotion is fairly bursting from her. Her eyes are wide and a wide grin stretches across her face. “Good,” she says. Her single word is so laden with excitement I have trouble suppressing my own smile.

“Come on.” Sully reaches out a hand to her. “Let’s go inside. I’ll show you around.”

The soft swish and rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs means Will and his siblings are back.

“Whoa, you have a truck and a camper?” Will says as soon as he sees the parked vehicles. “Do they work?”

“I’ve rebuilt the engine and transmission. As far as I know, everything works. Only problem is, we don’t have gasoline.”

“It’s the liquid that was used to run vehicles in the past. But it’s scarce now. What little is left is fiercely guarded by Urthmen,” Sully says. “We’ll talk about all that tomorrow, though. Come on. Follow me around back so we can go inside.”

We file behind Sully, June leading the way, and follow him around the side of the house, past the camper and the truck to the back of the house. But to my surprise, he does not climb the short, rickety looking flight of steps. Instead, 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.

“It’s an old bomb shelter,” Sully tells her just before he turns and begins descending a ladder. “Come on down.”

June does not hesitate. She climbs down immediately. I follow, then Will, Oliver, Riley and Jericho come afterward. Jericho shuts the door behind us and engages a lock from the inside.

I expect to be submerged in darkness. But peculiar, ashen light fills the space below me. It intensifies when I am standing on a hard floor. My eyes scour the room and I stop mid-breath when I see rectangular screens with pictures within them. The picture changes continually, and appears strangely familiar.

“What is,” I start, but I cannot form a sentence. I am riveted by the image, transfixed by what I think I am seeing. “Is that the wooded area we just came through?”

His dark eyes brim with anticipation. “Go on,” he urges me as if we are the only two people in the underground bunker.

Picture boxes are the stuff of legend, they are fabled stories Will and I heard as children and now share with our young siblings. Never in my wildest imaginings did I ever believe I would see one for myself. I thought they’d always be objects my mind’s eye conjured. But here they are, in Sully and Jericho’s lair, and right before my very eyes.

“Picture boxes, television, they’re both just names, but yes, that’s exactly what they are.” Sully’s words snap me out of my trance.

It is all so surreal, so magical. I swallow hard then ask one of the many questions blazing in my brain. “But how are we seeing the woods we were just in?”

“Cameras,” Sully answers and I feel my jaw drop. I know I must look like a buffoon, standing as I am with my mouth agape. But I am flabbergasted. Cameras are devices used long ago that transmitted live images for digital recording or viewership. Until today, I considered them even more elusive than the picture box.

Another question plagues me, one that involves both the picture boxes and the camera. Long ago, a power source was necessary to keep things like them functioning. “What’s powering the camera and the picture, uh, I mean televisions?”

The children’s heads bounce between Sully and I, in awe, as they follow our interaction. Now, they are watching him, waiting for his response. I am too, as it turns out.

“Well, it means we use the sun’s rays to power a generator that powers the television and the cameras.”

“How did you learn to do such a thing?” June asks, her voice quiet and reverent.

“He knows how to fix things,” Jericho’s voice rumbles like distant thunder and sends our attention his way. A small chuckle rolls from deep in his chest. “I told you before, Sully can fix anything.” He shrugs his enormous shoulders and flicks his hands to the sides.

“The technology existed long before the War of 2062. I just gathered materials along the way and tweaked them,” Sully says matter-of-factly.

“What about the guns?” I ask, intrigued beyond measure. “How did you get them? And what about the bullets?” I fire the questions in rapid succession, my mouth working in time with my brain.

The corners of Sully’s mouth hook upward to a sneaky smile. He narrows his eyes at me and again, a playful glint gleams in his eyes. “I rebuilt the guns from old parts I found through the years. As you can imagine, I found a lot. Urthmen are dumb as stumps. They wouldn’t know what to do with any of the stuff I came across, so they left it, right Jericho?”

“As for the bullets, well, I got lucky with that one. Years back, I found a bullet press in a bomb shelter, completely intact. All I needed to do was search for scrap metal to make the jackets and formulate the propellant.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I find sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter.”

Sully laughs. It is a pleasant sound. “Now that’s even less of a deal than the other stuff. Salt peter is harvested from decomposed manure. It’s also found in caves, but manure is easier to come by.”

“Manure? You mean poop?” June asks and is barely able to keep from giggling.

“Yep,” Sully nods with a naughty expression on his face. “I mean poop, old animal poop to be exact but poop all the same.”

June and Riley are overcome by a fit of giggles. Even Oliver can’t resist and joins in. I smile and so does Jericho. Will, however, is not amused in the least, a fact that is not lost on Sully. He frowns and looks between Will and me. I shake my head slightly and close my eyes. Will watched his parents die and is now responsible for his two siblings. Laughing at the word “poop” is not at the forefront of things he needs to do.

“Does anyone else live here with you two?” I ask and steer the conversation back to the host of questions rattling around in my head.

“Well we’re not going anywhere. We’re with you. We want to fight.” I hear the words spill from me; know that I have spoken for all of us when it is only me who feels that way. I cannot imagine jeopardizing June’s safety, or Will, Riley and Oliver’s for that matter. Yet, I cannot imagine leaving either. The life we led was no life at all, running and hiding, living in constant fear of how we would defend ourselves when the time came, and it always would. Finding Urthmen in the forest was not some random improbable occurrence we could chalk up as an isolated incident. It meant that the moment we feared and fled for came.

I know that Will is displeased by what I have said. He looks at me harshly, as if I have either gone mad or betrayed him in some monumental way.

“We,” Will says emphatically and points among he and his siblings, “Would like to live in peace.”

His words resound in my bones, in every part of me, for they are words that express my exact sentiments. As long as Urthmen live, we will be hunted, and we will never live freely, in peace.

“And we are now in big trouble,” Sully emphasizes the word “we” as Will did. “That fat Urthman we killed in the convoy was the king’s son. As soon as word gets out, which I am sure it has already, Urthmen will flood this area in search of us.”

“Yes, King Leon rules the world. He’s the leader of the Urthmen,” Will replies.

Will balls his fists. Rippling muscles flex and bulge down the length of both arms as he does. His anger is barely harnessed, bubbling beneath the surface of his skin it is visible. “Did you know that fat Urthman was the king’s son beforehand, before you decided we were going to attack?”

“No,” Sully answers. “I knew he was royalty because of the crown, but I didn’t know it was King Leon’s son. If I’d known the convoy was carrying Prince Neo, I would’ve thought twice. I never would have jeopardized all of us like that. Now they are going to come here. Even with the wires and cameras, we’re not safe here.”

At his words, June immediately rushes toward me and wraps her arms around my waist. I do not groan about the soreness the contact causes. She is frightened, and for good reason. Once again, we are holed up in an unsafe shelter. True, this one has sophisticated technology that may give us advance warning. Some Urthmen would likely be killed in the process, but not all. The ones that survive would pursue us.

The gravity of what has happened, of what will happen, crystallizes fully. But I am too fatigued to wrap my mind around what needs to be done. I am tired, so very tired. Being captured and caged, then winding up in an arena where I was slashed by a behemoth Urthman more monstrous than any other, and witnessing the fall of Prince Neo and his minions has taken its toll on me. I am drained on all fronts. Exhaustion sinks it teeth into me and devours me completely. My legs feel as if they’re made of spongy moss and my arms feel like stone. My body wavers. I feel as if a dense mist has settled all around me, dizzying me, disorienting me.

“Avery? Avery, are you okay?” I hear June. She sounds as if she is calling to me from a great distance. I am aware that she is right in front of me. Her feather-light arms encircle my waist.

“Avery, can you hear me?” Will’s voice is near, so strong and sure it rips me from the hazy fog descending on me.

“Are you okay?” Will asks. I hear the concern in his tone. He reaches out and cups my elbow in is hand.

“You need to lie down,” Sully tells me. “Come on. Come with me. I have a cot you can sleep on.”

“A cot?” I ask with surprise. “Where did you,” I start. “I mean, how did you ever get a cot?”

The narrow collapsible beds, like so many other items in Sully’s possession, are things I believed extinct long ago.

“Oh I’m just full of surprises,” Sully replies with a wicked arc of one eyebrow.

“I bet you are,” Will mumbles under his breath as his grip on my elbow tightens marginally. I feel an unnamed emotion pulsing from him. Is it anger, frustration, or something else entirely, I wonder. “Come on, Avery, let’s follow Sully and get you comfortable. You need to sleep if you wants those cuts to heal,” he says and draws me closer to his body. His scent surrounds me and I feel heat blaze up my neck and color my cheeks.

With Will’s help, I am led deeper into the room to the far corner where a metal contraption with a thin pad atop it sits.

“I’ll get you a blanket,” Sully says. He disappears and returns with a length of darkly colored fabric. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I sit on the bed, suddenly self-conscious that a roomful of people are watching me, waiting for me to lie down and go to sleep.

June pushes between Will and Sully who hover over me. “Rest, Avery. Please. I need you to get better,” she whispers close to my ear.

“I’ll be fine, June. Don’t you worry.” I poke the tip of her nose and force a smile across. I can tell it convinces her as she returns the smile with one of her own. “I love you,” I add.

I meet his gaze despite that I am blushing. I appreciate his offer to look after June. Ordinarily I would protest and insist that I’d do it. But I am too tired. “Thank you,” I tell him.

June slips her hand in Will’s hand and leads him away. Oliver and Riley follow along with Jericho. I am left with Sully.

“Rest up, Avery,” he says and pats my shoulder lightly. A metallic scent, tinged with a mild, charred smell likely caused from the house he lives beneath, mingles with the scent of grass and spice lingers in the wake of his touch. It comforts me for reasons I cannot explain. Perhaps it reminds me of the way my father, a man who could fix and find many things, smelled, or perhaps it is because Sully saved my life more than once today. Either way I am grateful for him.

He spins and faces me. His dark eyes glow with a fire that knocks the wind from me. “You would have done the same for me, I know you would have.”

“Then you have nothing to thank me for,” he says right before he walks away and joins the others.

I ponder his words for the briefest of moments before sleep beckons me like a long-lost friend, welcoming with warm, open arms. I allow myself to be cradled by the velvety abyss and quickly fall into a deep sleep.

My eyes open to the sight of a room awash in ashy light. Briefly startled and unsure of where I am, I bolt upright and whip my head from one side to the next. I see June’s face peek around Will, who’s standing sternly with his arms folded across his chest, and am flooded with relief.

“Avery!” she exclaims before she hurries toward me. She throws both arms around my neck and squeezes tightly. “Oh thank goodness you’re okay!” She steps back and looks at me.

Smiling, I tip my chin and say, “Hey you.” My voice is hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears. I clear my throat. “Of course, I’m okay.” I feel half my mouth turn upward and imagine I am smiling the way Sully does. The thought makes me feel giddy and guilty simultaneously.

The guilt is emphasized when I look past June and see a familiar gaze trained my way.

Wearing a peculiar expression on his face, Will watches me. His brilliant blue-green eyes slice through the gray light and shimmer like twin turquoise gemstones. The sight makes my breathing hitch and I wish I could read what is behind them, what exactly he is thinking.

“Hey! Look who’s awake!” Sully’s voice echoes from a corner of the room I cannot see and strikes like a bolt of lightning through my core. I watch as Will’s features collapse and his bright eyes become overcast. When Sully’s head pops up from behind a pile of miscellaneous metal parts, I nod goofily in answer.

Will glances in Sully’s direction with his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. When he returns his attention to me, he asks, “How are you feeling?” just before he approaches.

He closes the distance between us and stands before me. Reaching out a hand, he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, sending my pulse skyrocketing. The gesture is gentle, so tender it borders on affectionate. My racing heart stumbles clumsily at his proximity, at his touch, just as it always does, and heat creeps up from my collar and warms my cheeks. Words escape me. I know he’s asked me a question, yet I seem to have forgotten both what he asked me and how to speak.

“I’m okay,” I answer when words finally find me and hope he does not hear the breathlessness in my tone.

“It’s not like you’re good at hiding your feelings, Will,” June says. “I mean, come on. You were practically pacing the whole time. You might as well have had I’m so worried about Avery written across your face.” She giggles and I spy a faint hint of pink tint Will’s cheeks.

My insides begin fluttering wildly. “I’m sorry for worrying you, and you know, June and, well everybody,” I fumble. I cringe at how idiotic I sound. He just said he was worried about me, no big deal. I was sliced open in two places by an Urthman.

“You don’t have to apologize for worrying me,” Will starts. I feel his long, slender fingers wrap around my hand. Reflexively, my gaze drops to where his hand touches mine then moves slowly back to his face. He watches me intently. “I worry because,” he starts but is interrupted by a familiar, booming voice.

“Who’s apologizing in here? It better not be Avery,” I hear Sully say just before he becomes visible.

Will slides him a glance from the corner of his eye and his expression tightens. In a low voice, he says, “What timing.”

“Hey there! Glad to see you’re up. You’re sitting. That’s a good thing. How’s your belly feeling, the stitches, that is?” Sully asks. He walks over to the cot and stands beside Will, smiling. He place a hand on Will’s shoulder as if they are the oldest of friends. Will looks as if he is seconds away from jiggling his shoulder and shaking off the hand, and I do not know why, but I feel bad for both of them. Sully for Will looking as if his shoulder has just been slathered in boart droppings and Will for being interrupted while trying to communicate some important point to me.

“My belly is sore, but not too bad,” I say. “And my arm is pretty much the same.”

Much to Will’s relief, Sully drops his hand from Will’s shoulder. He leans over me and picks up my arm and examines the stitches. “Looks pretty good, if I do say so myself.” His touch is like fire burning dried leaves. It sweeps up my arm and blazes like a brushfire. “No new blood, that’s a good thing, right?” he says with a wink. “Now let’s take a look at your stomach.”

He is about to reach for the hem of my shirt when Will speaks. “Why do you need to look at it?” he snaps. “She said she’s fine.”

“I need to look at it to make sure it isn’t getting infected and that the stitches are holding,” Sully replies evenly. I think the edge in Will’s tone is lost on him until he adds, “Take it easy there, handsome. I’m not trying to get a free peek at her belly button or anything.” He gives me another jaunty wink.

Incensed, Will’s upper lip tightens over his teeth until he catches me watching him. His features soften and he watches Sully’s hands as they roll the edge of my shirt halfway up my torso.

His fingers nimbly dance along the line that used to be a considerable split. His brow is furrowed and his mouth is a hard line, yet his eyes sparkle with merriment, as if he is privy to a joke the rest of us cannot hear. Part of me desperately wants to be let in on the joke, to share with him that intimate knowledge that drives the wicked glint in his eyes and the sly smile that rounds one cheek. But the fact is that I know nothing about Sully, and I do not know what to make of him just yet. All I do know is that he saved my life, along with the lives of my friends, sewed me up and kept me from bleeding out. He is obviously gifted when it comes to repairing and restoring technology once believed to be defunct, and he is fearless to a near-fault. Beyond that, I am in the dark, save for something else I’ve observed about Sully, an aspect of his personality that concerns me deeply. He seems to have a negative effect on Will.

I do not know why but since teaming up with Sully, Will has been brooding and oppositional. The last thing I want is to cause a rift between us. Will is an indelible part of me now. I cannot imagine one day passing without looking upon his golden, glorious face. Just knowing that he is seeing my bare flesh now, despite being grotesque and wounded as it is, makes my insides quiver. And he is not alone in seeing it. Sully joins him. Though looking in more of a clinical capacity, Sully has my shirt hiked up to where my ribcage begins to show. The constant sensation of his fingertips grazing my sensitive skin combines with his mischievous grin and the impish spark in his gaze and makes my head spin.

But despite the strange and conflicting feelings storming inside me, shame and self-reproach are present too. Until just a week ago, I had never seen another human being that I wasn’t related to in many years. Now, there are five that I intend to travel with. Exhilarating and daunting at the same time, I do not know how to act. Especially since there seems to be friction brewing between Will and Sully.

“Everything I’m seeing looks great,” Sully answers. His eyes wander from the wound and skim the rest of my exposed flesh. A small smirk steals across his lips, and a strange heat fills me. Will does not see Sully’s small act, a fact that I’m thankful for, and he does not see the ribbon of warmth that slowly wound its way from my chest to my limbs. I worry that if he did, he would have punched Sully dead in his face. Perhaps I should have done just that. I doubt I would have had the strength, though. My arms, and legs for that matter, feel as if they’ve liquefied.

“Yep,” Sully says and pulls the hem of my shirt down. His knuckles graze the length of my midsection and I feel as if a stream of fire trails behind them. “The stitches on her belly look good. They’re holding the cut closed just as they should. She just needs to take it easy for a little while and she’ll be good as new in no time.” He pinches one of June’s cheeks and I see a squeal welling just beneath the surface of her skin. I know how she feels. A squeal is begging to leak from me, too.

“Hear that, Avery? You have to take it easy,” June says. The laughter in her tone is evident.

“I don’t know about that,” Will chimes in. “Our Avery here doesn’t know the meaning of take it easy, do you?” he says playfully and places his hand atop mine.

The contact of his warm hand resting on mine feels like thousands of tiny, light pinpricks are occurring at once. My scalp feels two sizes too small and a chill whispers up my spine.

“Well I’ll just have to stick right by her and make sure she listens, won’t I?”

“We all will,” Will says sharply. His hand grips mine momentarily before relaxing then his thumb sweeps across the top of my wrist. I want to close my eyes and savor the feel of his rough fingertip stroking the soft skin there, but Sully watches me. His gaze drops to where Will’s thumb works and I shrink inwardly. I tense. Will’s thumb stops moving and he withdraws his hand. My hand feels cold. I look at it then look up. Everyone is watching me, waiting, but for what I have no idea.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” I finally say. “What do we do now?” I look between Will and Sully.

“What do you mean?” Sully asks, a mysterious look flickering across his face.

“We need to start getting people together to grow an army, right? We can fight back, on a small scale, but we can fight and start the war to take back planet Urth,” I say.

The stiffness in Will’s posture loosens marginally, as if he is relieved. I find it odd that a person so against standing our ground and battling Urthmen should look so thankful for my proposal.

“I think you’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself,” Sully says with a soft chuckle. “There aren’t many humans running around out there, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Sully holds my eyes with his as he scratches his chin thoughtfully. “It would take years to round them up much less rally them to fight,” he thinks aloud. “The only place where there’s a large human population is in the underground city, and they have no interest in fighting.”

A large human population living in an underground city! The notion sounds too good to be true!

“Come on, Sully! You expect us to believe there’s an underground city?” Will laughs mirthlessly. “That’s a myth. No such place exists.”

“Thousands of people living together underground and Urthmen haven’t found them, yeah, okay,” Will huffs with certainty that borders on arrogance.

Hearing our conversation, Oliver and Riley join us. Jericho leans against a wall with his arms comfortably folded across his chest.

Sully stands and addresses everyone. “Mock all you want, but I know it’s true. I grew up there,” he stuns me by saying. “I was kicked out when I was thirteen because I wanted to do exactly what Avery wants to do. I wanted to fight. I wanted to lead a revolt against the Urthmen regime. I made so much noise about it I was asked to leave. So please, don’t tell me it isn’t real.”

I steal a glance at Will. He looks as shocked as I feel. In fact, after a quick glance around the room, I see that everyone wears the same expression, except Jericho and Sully.

“You mean to tell me thousands of people live together safely?” I ask and feel the corners of my mouth falter, tears welling in my eyes. The idea of it is all that I’ve wanted, all that I’ve dreamed of for June. And Sully claims it is real, that he has been there.

“More than ten thousand if you want to be more precise. But that was before I left.”

“Yep, and they’re just content to live there, to hide is more like it, and grow their food hydroponically with their livestock on hand. I guess you could argue they have everything they need, you know, if you think living like rats in a sewer is a life worth living. I didn’t.” Sully stares off toward an unseen place only he sees. “I couldn’t take existing in hiding, knowing eventually we’d be found, and that other people in the world were dying.” He swallows hard. “I mean, Urthmen are dumb, but even if they take decades. I’m sure they’ll find the underground city. One of the humans will slip or a solar panel will be discovered.”

“No one does, unless they’ve lived there as I have. But it’s not some great place like you think it is, especially when I would go out on supply runs and see the suffering in the streets. I’d go back down and shake my head, wondering why we were so content to just be, you know, to just lie down and die about everything.”

Sully’s arms are folded across his chest. His fists are balled tightly and I can see the rage flaring like firelight in his dark eyes, rage and regret.

“The city is in the desert. Nobody journeys out into the middle of the desert without a reason. And even if they did, they wouldn’t see it.”

“This place, the city, it was the most elaborate underground shelter ever built. Some say it was designed centuries ago to house intel on foreign countries, kind of a spy files city. It is literally the size of a small city. But as soon as the first bomb fell and the war officially started, the files were cleared out and the President, along with the entire government, was sent down there.”

“Who’s government? What are you talking about?” Will asks, his brows gathered.

“Ours,” Sully answers. “We are all descendants of Americans. Our ancestors were from shelters.”

My mind spins in circles as it struggles to process what I’ve heard. Reeling, I ask, “How do you know all this?”

“Yeah, all kids did in the underground city, which is called New Washington, by the way,” Sully says offhandedly.

I reach out and grip Will’s arm for support. He immediately wraps an arm around my shoulders and I feel the hardness of his thick muscles flex and he safeguards me from falling. “I can’t believe this. Schools, New Washington, all of it, it’s like a dream,” I mumble incoherently.

“It’s not a dream, trust me,” Sully says and his gaze examines Will’s arm draped over my shoulder protectively. I squirm, but Will does not let go.

“So you know exactly what happened in the war, how the world came to be this way,” I ask more than state.

“I do,” Sully answers. “If you really want to know, I can tell you about it.”

“Please, tell me. Tell all of us what happened,” I say in a voice far stronger than I feel.

I gulp hard against the lump of dread that has collected in my throat. Sully has information, answers to so many questions that have plagued my brain since I was old enough to understand the condition of the human species. And now, all of those questions are about to be answered. I hope I can handle all of it. I hope I can handle the truth.

“It started in 2059 when a terrorist organization composed of religious fanatics called Jaish-e-Al-Queda overthrew several governments in the Middle East in a coordinated, multi-country coup,” Sully begins.

“A takeover is what a coup is, and in this case it was violent,” Sully answers. “So America learned of this and sent the military to a place known as Pakistan to guard their government from being removed from power. See, our government knew Pakistan was the only country in the Middle East with nuclear capability of firing on America,” he continues to a rapt audience.

The room is still, as if everyone waits with bated breath for him to keep going, to share with us what set our current situation into motion.

“While the military was over there, here, the people were freaking out. They knew World War III was coming, that the religious fanatics didn’t care if they died as long as they killed us first. They believed that in the afterlife they would be rewarded for killing evil Americans.”

“Oh my gosh,” I gasp. I’ve never been given insight into the original cause of the war. I only knew that it happened.

“This war was going to be the end of the world as far as all of North America was concerned. Underground shelters were built all over the country as more and more people panicked. The underground city was redesigned for the President and Joint Chiefs of Staff so he could keep a working government in the event that the worst-case scenario came to pass.

“What America didn’t know was that while they were so busy worrying about a nuclear holocaust, Jaish-e-Al-Queda had operatives in Iran, one of the countries they overtook, who worked alongside scientists and created a weapon known as Anthricin, a hybrid of the highly toxic protein ricin found in the seed of the castor oil plant and anthrax, a disease caused by bacteria found in spores.”

“Biological weapons,” he says and I feel the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. “After a few years of experimenting, Jaish-e-Al-Queda had in their possession bacteria and viruses that would cause widespread sickness and death among humans and animals. They eventually loaded Anthricin into rockets and launched them with the intent to kill.”

“That’s what caused the Urthmen to be the way they are and the Lurkers and the spider monster and that enormous bat you killed when we hid in the tree,” June turns to me and says in one breath. Her cheeks are rosy but the rest of her is pale. I move from Will and envelop her in my arms. Her heart patters madly against midsection.

“It’s okay, June,” I whisper in her ear. “This is history. Sully is teaching us about the past.”

In truth, I am sickened by what I am hearing. The idea that human beings, regardless of where they lived and what ideologies they held, intentionally killing one another is unconscionable. What for is the real question: Power? Money? Greed? Control? I can’t imagine anything worth killing another of my species for other than the protection of my sister, or myself. And now the people present are added to that list. This religion of which Sully spoke, was it worth ending the entirety of civilization? The members of Jaish-e-Al-Queda must have thought so, and were stark-raving mad in my opinion.

Will’s voice, smooth and steady like a river flowing over rocks in a slow-rolling river, returns my attention to the here and now, to the future. “The humans in the underground city, New Washington, they are descendants of survivors of the attacks?” he asks.

“Pretty much,” Sully answers. “But this group, Jaish-e-Al-Queda, they didn’t start in North America. The first rocket loaded with their biological weapon was launched at Israel, their fiercest enemy. As soon as that happened, Americans took cover. Rich and powerful people had space reserved in the underground shelters. The rest were left to wait.”

That fiery glow undulates in Sully’s eyes when his gaze lands on me. Is it pride that lights the fire or something else entirely? I wonder. “The American government did. They fired on Iran first. But Jaish-e-Al-Queda got wind of it and, before the country was obliterated, launched their missiles here.”

“There was no turning back once that happened,” I say slowly, the gravity of what humans, my American ancestors, experienced knocking the air from my lungs. “The people who weren’t in shelters, their fates were sealed.”

Sully nods somberly. “Those who weren’t killed in the first few days went mad as their bodies deteriorated slowly, transforming them, mutating every cell inside their bodies.”

“The viruses did what they were supposed to do,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

“And it affected every living creature. I guess one of the countless things Jaish-e-Al-Queda misjudged was how quickly their weapon would spread. Everyone on the planet became infected, but not all died. The ones in the underground shelters were okay. But above, they changed into something else, something monstrous.”

A stunned hush befalls the room. We heard the stories from our parents, but for some reason, hearing Sully recount it as he does gives us a better feel for it, more of a firsthand account. His words are chilling. Our origins are simpler to explain. The Urthmen are another story entirely.

“The president and Joint Chiefs launched nuclear weapons and destroyed the rest of the world knowing what had happened in Israel after the biological weapons detonated. Reports came in about creatures. America and Canada were the only places where nuclear bombs did not fall.”

“So North America really is the only place where life exists?” Junes asks. I hear the tremor in her voice, the fear. We’d been taught that North America was the only inhabitable place on the planet where life was supported, but we never knew for sure. We’d only heard stories passed down from generation to generation. Somehow, hearing him verify those stories, I feel more terrified and isolated that I did before.

“No one knows for sure, but that is what is believed. That is what’s taught in school,” Sully answers.

“The President and his people went underground. I get that. But what happened afterward, after years passed?” Oliver asks.

“I’m sure you heard some of it from your parents. The stories have been told for centuries. But I’m guessing it was much worse than what any of you heard.”

“Why is that?” Will asks. The trace of an edge returns to his voice. “Why would our parents or family withhold the truth from us?”

“As I said, it’s just a guess. I don’t know that they did or didn’t. I know if I had a kid I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling her how our ancestors were torn to shreds by mutant versions of their own species when they came up after more than two decades of being holed up.”

I hear a pair of startled gasps. I assume one was from June and the other was from Riley.

“See what I mean?” Sully says to Will without the slightest hint of arrogance. “They heard filtered versions. They don’t know that the President and the others thought they’d destroyed every living thing in the world and that whatever altered beings, if any, existed, they’d be long dead before they surfaced. They thought they’d reclaim the planet and everything would be fine. They were wrong.”

Sully does not speak dramatically. He shares his knowledge offhandedly. Perhaps that’s why his words are so haunting. I wrap my arms around June more tightly to combat the chill that’s settled deep in my bones despite the pleasant temperature of the room.

“How do you know the same hasn’t happened to the people of the underground city?” Oliver asks concernedly.

“I don’t,” Sully says bluntly. “Not for a fact at least. But facts or no facts, I’m pretty sure everyone’s fine and things are still humming along down there,” he adds and his eyes shine with what I suspect are unshed tears. He blinks and looks to his feet for a moment then continues. “Those people, my kin, they could live forever down there, right under the radar of those mutant monsters. They’ve got livestock and indoor food growing capabilities.”

“But the President and everyone down there after the war, didn’t they have all that stuff too?” June asks.

“They had what they thought would carry them for more than two decades, and they had guns. They thought that when they ran out of supplies, they could come up then return.”

“Wait a second. Didn’t their guns do anything against the monsters when they came up?” Oliver asks.

“At first, yes. Heavily armed men and women were able to fight them off for a while. But they soon found out they were outnumbered. As their ammunition dwindled, so did their numbers. They were slaughtered shortly after their ammunition ran out.

“The offspring of the warped monsters were in their teens at the time and had more intelligence than their parents. They were what Urthmen are today. They led their older diseased family members and they destroyed every modern weapon they found, knowing that without them, no human could beat them. They would outnumber and kill every human being they came across. And that’s exactly what they did.”

“But why?” June asks, tears streaming down both cheeks. “I know what they did, but I don’t understand why. Why did they hunt humans then? Why do they hunt us now?”

“That, June, is the one question teachers and history books do not have the answer to, not a finite one they agree on. Some say the potent combination of the two viruses altered more than just the DNA of affected people, that it changed their brains and gave them a bloodlust.

“Others say they resented humans that were unchanged, hated them with such passion that they became murderous, motivated by the purest of jealousy. But those are just two of the many theories. No one really knows. Only the original ancestors of Urthmen held the answer to your question, June,” Sully says.

I feel as if a frigid thread has made its way in my veins, into my lifeblood, and has instilled cold in me that will never warm. I heard a milder version of Urth’s history, just as Sully thought, And I suspect everyone in the room save for Jericho and Sully had the same experience, for we all bear the same troubled expressions. Being reminded that the first Urthmen were humans whose DNA was scrambled by a senseless attack perpetrated by other human beings still staggers me. Knowing the details compounds the shock I feel with a thick layer of disgust.

“I want to go there,” June releases me and says. She turns to Sully. “I want to go to New Washington. Can you take me there?” She swipes tears from her face with her fingertips.

“No,” Sully disagrees sharply. He looks June directly in the eye. “New Washington lives on now as it did during those first two decades after the war, only better, more efficient.”

“You said yourself you don’t know for sure if it’s still there,” Will counters but without condescension.

“I said I don’t know for a fact. But I know my city. And I know it’s there. I feel it in my bones,” he says with confidence that is inspiring. “June, if you want to go there I’ll take you. But I won’t stay down there. I can’t be underground, cowering, while other human beings are up here being slaughtered.”

“Uh, she’s not going anywhere, Sully. Not without going through me first,” I say. The words fly from my mouth of their own accord, reflexively like breathing. June is my sister, my responsibility, not Sully’s. He may be a new addition to our clan, but he is, by no means, in charge.

Amusement twinkles in his eyes, only this time I do not find it charming. “Okay then Avery, do I have your permission to take June to the underground city I grew up in?”

“No,” I answer immediately, defiance carving into my tone. “You do not. My sister stays with me.”

“Oh Avery, I’m afraid you misunderstand me. If she wants to go, we all go to New Washington, together.” Sully’s words are like a slap to the back of my head, unexpected and disorienting at the same time.

“Uh no, we seem okay to me, what with all your cameras and wires and gadgets, and guns,” I say and sweep my arm, gesturing to the piles of equipment and miscellany he has.

“It would seem that way. I get that. But we killed a prince today, the Prince of Planet Urth.”

“We didn’t kill anybody. You killed Prince Boart-Boy, whoever he is. Not us,” I remind him.

He is right, of course. I am stuck, at a loss for words temporarily. My insides grow hot, thawing the iciness from earlier. “Fine. You’re right. I would have,” I concede. “But that’s not the point.”

“Neither is who killed him. The fact of the matter is he’s dead, and Urthmen, stupid as they are, know that one of their own didn’t take him out. A human did. And which humans made a big old spectacle of themselves at a very public place?”

I realize in that moment that we do not have a choice in the matter. We must leave. June, Will, Oliver, Riley and myself must journey with Sully and Jericho out into the unknown. We must find the underground city, New Washington.

I look among Will, Oliver and Riley for an answer, for some form of confirmation that they are or aren’t on board with venturing off in search of the underground city. The children appear to be more than willing to go. But Will is a different story.

The muscle at the side of his jaw is working continuously. Hard and unreadable, his features betray nothing.

The only way I know he’s heard me is when his eyes finally rest on me. And even then, they reveal nothing.

Sully’s eyes dart between us, and he claps his hands together loudly. “How about I give you two a moment to hash things out?”

Sully joins Jericho and they disappear behind a mountain of supplies. With them out of earshot, I turn to face Will.

His words land like a slap across my face. They sting and I was unprepared for them. “Will, I never—” I start but he interrupts me.

“Never what, meant to ask me whether I want to go off with these two guys, who, by the way, we know nothing about?”

“Well it doesn’t matter now I guess. Ask me, don’t ask me. You call all the shots now. You said so yourself,” he huffs and tosses both hands in the air.

“I know I almost got us killed. I know my actions at the house are what got us caught and landed us in the arena, but that doesn’t forfeit my right to decide for myself, or at least be consulted before life-changing plans are made.” His tone is less angry, and I understand what he is saying. I never meant to make him feel as though I’d stripped him of having a voice in what we do or where we go.

“I’m sorry,” I say plainly. Judging from the stunned look on Will’s face, I can see he is taken aback.

“I’m sorry I made you feel as if a mistake surrendered your right to be involved in your destiny.”

His shoulders slump and any hostility I sensed seconds earlier seeps from him. He rubs his forehead then scrubs both hands over his face.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” I say and lightly touch his forearm.

He lowers his hands from his face slowly, but not before his clasps a hand over mine, holding it in place. “Yes we do,” he says and meets my gaze. His eyes are the sky and land merged, paled by light so that they are a translucent blend of blue and green. My breath catches in my chest as he holds me with them. “Yes, we do,” he says again.

The intensity of his words and the gleam in his eyes suggest that there’s more to leaving than simply finding a safe haven to hide from the monsters who roam that planet, that maybe the opportunity to actually live rather than exist is real.

A quiver races from my chest and passes through my stomach at the notion. Envisioning life without the constant worry and tension of ever-present danger seemed like a dream before today. As hard as it is to imagine, I find myself yearning for it too.

But with that yearning comes the continual niggle at the back of my brain. Living underground in an underground utopia, as magical as it sounds, does not erase what is going on in the rest of the world. It does not make me immune to the plight of my species.

A calling beckons me, ringing through my core like the toll of a bell, and I know what must happen.

“Yes, that is true,” I tell Will as my eyes well with tears. “So I take it you want to go?” I sniffle then ask him.

Without warning, Will closes the distance between us and embraces me tightly. I feel his heart pounding against my chest, keeping time with my own frantic heartbeat, and I am lost in his scent, his warmth. Time and planning cease to exist. Wars and monsters danger and death, all of it falls by the wayside as I inhale his rich, musky scent. My arms reach out and match the ferocity with which he clutches me. I am dizzy, giddy with an inexplicable joy so filling it borders on sadness. I feel as if I am floating, suspended above my own body on the wings of a mighty bird. And I am not afraid. In fact, I don’t want to come down. He lowers his chin, dipping his head so that his lips hover just above mine. His hot breath feathers against my mouth, only this time, I am ready. I know what he intends to do and I will let him. He inches close, our hearts drilling in sync.

I snap my head in her direction, her voice anchoring itself to me and yanking me back to reality. My hands fall to my sides and I step away from Will, embarrassed, though unsure why exactly. “Uh yes, we’re going,” I answer.

“Yay!” June cheers. “Riley, Oliver, we’re going!” she calls out to the others.

A lively eruption occurs among the children followed by a buzz of excitement that is palpable. I look at Will to see whether he can feel it too, but his eyes are cast downward. I want to reach out to him, but as soon as my hand rises from my thigh, Sully’s voice fills the room.

I can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. One eyebrow is cocked and he smiles his perpetual, crooked smile, but I’m still unsure.

“No really, I mean, we can walk. It’ll probably take us about five years to get there. Of course, we’ll either starve, be eaten or killed by Urthmen before then, but I’m willing to try!”

I shake my head, trying to right my thoughts. Surely I didn’t hear what I thought I just heard. He is obviously just teasing me, isn’t he? I wonder.

“Come on, enough already.” I glance at the kids. Their moods have deflated substantially. “Cut it out, you’re scaring the kids.”

“Sully, stop it, all right. It’s not funny. You have the truck and a camper. We won’t have to walk,” I look toward the kids and smile halfheartedly.

“True, I do have the camper and the truck, but you’re forgetting one crucial component: gasoline. As in, I don’t have any. And without gasoline, those vehicles don’t operate.”

My jaw goes slack and I do not blink. Part of me contemplates slapping Sully right across his arrogant face. But I don’t. Instead, I close my mouth and swallow hard then grind my molars. “So you got my sister and Riley and Oliver excited over nothing?” I lean in and smile, talking through my teeth quietly.

“I said I’d be happy to escort June there,” he replies in little more than a whisper, and with that twinkle of amusement I found charming before, but now find grating.

“You gave them hope and now you’re taking it away,” I narrow my eyes and practically growl.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful when you’re mad?” he murmurs.

“Has anyone ever told you I eviscerated the last person who said that to me?” I reply in the same tone he used and watch as he takes a step back. “Gasoline,” I return his attention to our conversation. “Where do we find it?”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous it would be to take a vehicle on Urthmen roads cross-country?” he asks.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you let us believe we could have a semblance of life.”

Sully’s head rears back as if I did decide to slap him. His eyes are wide and devoid of laughter. He looks almost remorseful.

“It’s just that, it’s what you said. You and June haven’t ever had any sort of life.”

“We haven’t. We’ve always been on the run, even when we lived at the cave or at the compound. We were constantly threatened,” I admit.

Sully and I are practically nose to nose. Consumed by anger and disappointment seconds ago, I forgot we stood in a roomful of people.

“Is there a problem?” Will interjects and reminds us both that we are not alone.

“Nope,” Sully says and his face returns to its usual inscrutable expression.

“We just have to work out a plan to get some fuel and we’ll be on our way,” he says and slides a glance at Jericho before returning his attention to me. “Looks like we’re going on a road trip. Is everyone in?”

I look to Jericho who stands with his head bowed and his hands clasped over his belly. “Hey,” Sully calls. “How about you? You coming with us?”

“Of course! Did you think I’d let you go off and get into trouble without me?” Jericho lifts his eyes and says with a hearty chuckle.

“All right then, I need everyone to huddle up,” Sully waves us all toward him. “We need to formulate a plan to get gasoline,” he begins when everyone circles around him. I hang back a moment and watch Riley and Oliver, Will and June, the people I love and feel my chest tighten. I will miss them. They belong in New Washington. They deserve to be safe and happy. They deserve the life they always dreamed of. But I do not. Another fate awaits me, one less peaceful, one far more complicated.

I will go with them to the underground city, and I will try to convince the people there to fight. If things are as good as Sully says they are I doubt anyone will join in my crusade and I will leave without Oliver, Riley Will or June. I will leave June too.

We know what we have to do as a group, and now I know what I must do as an individual as well. I have not shared the conclusion I’ve reached with anyone, not Will, not even June. I fear that saying the words aloud might break me, and I sincerely doubt my voice would hold if I tried. My chest clenches at the thought, at the expression on everyone’s face when I announce what I will do. I am glad I will have many days to work myself up to it, to steel myself. Still, as I watch June talk excitedly with Sully, offering her input, her silvery-blue eyes sparkling with something I have never seen in them before—true hope—I worry that even with time to prepare, my revelation will not get any easier. I also fear that she will never forgive me. But I hope someday she does.

Until now, hope has been a futile emotion I barely allowed to breeze through my brain in passing. All I could do daily was try my best to be courageous, to survive. Neither June nor I would have ever dared to anchor ourselves to it as we have now, since Sully shared with us news of the underground city. But all that has changed.

Hope is what I am banking on for June’s future. Hope is all that motivates me; hope of a better life for June, hope for safety and stability, and hope for a future that includes more than just existing from one day to the next, but actually living and embarking on new experiences.

I hope June is happy one day and that she is able to reconcile with my decision to leave if that is what comes to pass. I hope she finds it in her kind and decent heart to forgive me, her last living blood relation, for leaving her to defend the people of Planet Urth.