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.

Sully’s tone is indecipherable. My cheeks warm and I furrow my brow, wondering whether his comment was intended for me, or for the stone wall we’ve been staring at through our binoculars since the sun rose. I can never tell whether he’s being serious or whether he’s joking.

Slowly, I lower my lenses and turn to look at him. I am met with his eyes, a deep, rich brown, glittering with laughter from a punch line I’m not privy to. He makes similar comments often, and always with the same amusement dancing in his gaze. I should be used to both. I should disregard them. But I can’t. Ambiguous comments such as the “beautiful” remark keep me in a constant state of confusion.

“Nothing boring as far as I can see,” he says before he turns away with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Baffled again, I fight the nervous smile threatening to curve my lips.

A welcome breeze blows, cooling my heated skin. Brightly colored leaves cascade from overhead like embers, twirling and spinning before they land all around me. Though the morning is not particularly chilly, the air feels different. A distinct crispness prevails. Gone is the humidity from weeks earlier. Seasons are changing, and so are our lives.

The woods encircle me. Treetops are ablaze with vibrant reds, yellows and oranges. But I’m uninterested in the foliage, especially when I have a giant wall the color of sand to look at.

Lying flat on my belly beside Sully, I stare beyond the edge of the forest and into the distance. Using matching binoculars, we’re able to see a structure in the distance. A wall that easily triples my height borders a building. Sharp spikes and barbed wire lace the uppermost portion of the wall. Only the top of the building is visible above the wall. All I can see of it are two windows carved out of the brick face on the top floor. With nearly identical broken glass at the center of each pane, the windows look like oversized eyes, watchful and waiting. Jaundiced in appearance with peeling, pale-yellow paint, I wonder at times whether the building is watching us. After all, we’ve been watching it for fourteen days now.

Each day for the last two weeks, Sully and I have come to the exact spot we’re at and spent our time monitoring the activity of the building. Like everything else beyond the forest, the structure is an Urthmen stronghold. But unlike others in the world beyond the forest, this one houses something we need. It stores gasoline, the fuel we need to begin our journey to the underground city.

Sully’s known about the warehouse for a while, but never needed to inspect it further. Not until recently.

“Avery, look,” Sully nudges me. “See that? Right on time,” he says of the massive truck pulling to the gate surrounding the building.

A small part of me wants to nudge him back and tell him, “Uh yeah, how could I not see the giant rig rumbling to a stop right in front of my eyes?” Well, technically, it’s not right in front of my eyes. But with the binoculars, it appears that way. Regardless, I am cranky and frustrated. Two weeks watching the same exact activity day in and day out without any divergence has left me edgy, restless. Of course, I don’t act on impulse and indulge my grumpiness. Instead, I mumble a quick, “Yup, I see it,” to Sully and continue to bore a hole through my lenses with my gaze.

The Urthmen appear to have stockpiled a considerable stash of gasoline. Stored in everything from large metal vats to small plastic drums, each day a truck arrives to cart some away. Their supply seems unending. Where and how they get it remains a mystery to me. All I know is that we need what they have. And Sully and I are plotting a way to get it.

We’ve been waiting and watching, trying to figure out how to get inside the warehouse and steal enough barrels of fuel to get us across the country to New Washington. Surrounded by high, smooth walls that end at an iron gate with pointed picket tips that on closer inspection are razor sharp arrowheads, the adjacent property appears inaccessible. The outside is secure. Inside, however, by our count, only four Urthmen reside, and before nightfall each night, they leave.

We’ve discussed ambushing the truck after it leaves and is further down the road, but it’s heavily guarded and poses more of a risk than breaking into the warehouse.

Every day, when the sun is highest in the sky, and I see that truck pull to the gate, get what it came for and leave, a battle against logic wars within me. Attacking the truck, drawing attention to ourselves that way and chancing that an Urthman will radio to others and all but guarantee our deaths, is a dangerous endeavor to entertain, dangerous to the point of being foolhardy. Still, the temptation is great. Seeing it pull away, knowing enough fuel is onboard to get us to the underground city and back, leaves an anxious knot in my stomach that tightens with each day that passes. I want out of this area. We are being hunted, and I want to get June, Will, Riley, Oliver, Sully, Jericho and myself as far away from here as possible.

“We’re going to do it tomorrow,” Sully says as if he’s read my thoughts.

“Huh?” I mumble then swallow hard. I need him to say it again to be sure my ears aren’t deceiving me.

“We’ve got to do this soon, tomorrow night,” he says with unwavering certainty. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t take this anymore, waking up every morning and thinking this could be the day they find us.”

A pulse of excitement passes through me, despite the sad truth of what he’s said. He wants to take the first step. I do, too. “Okay,” I say. “You know I’m on board.” I fight to keep from smiling. It’s tough, though. The thought of acting rather than watching and plotting energizes me. “Tomorrow sounds great. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

“Yeah, and it’s only a matter of time before they find us. I don’t know why, but lately, I feel like they’re getting closer,” he adds grimly as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

I know what he means. I feel the same way. Urthmen have been searching for the humans responsible for killing Prince Neo. Some days I swear I can smell the fetid stench of their breath at the back of my neck. I know they aren’t physically there, not yet at least, but the threat of them is. I shake my head to clear the image of their horrid faces from my brain and try to refocus my thoughts.

“So what’s our plan?” I think out loud and take a cursory glance through my binoculars. “We can’t climb those walls. They’re way too tall, and we’d be ripped to shreds by those spikes and barbed wire.”

“No, you’re right. And blowing it up isn’t an option either. That would send every Urthman in the area rushing here.”

I would like nothing more than to equip the entire compound with explosives and detonate it right when the truck pulls in. Watching pieces of the murderous beasts fall from the sky like rain would be a triumph. But as Sully has said, an explosion would alert every Urthman close enough to hear the blast. Our location would be revealed, as well as the fact that we are attempting to rob the facility.

The back of my head begins to pound. I’m revisiting points Sully and I have already considered and discussed at length. Tension gathers in my shoulders and at the base of my skull. Options for entrance are scarce. And all of them seem to end with the same result: us getting captured. We’ll all die if we’re caught. There’s no doubt in my mind about that.

A momentary sparkle twinkles in the depths of Sully’s dark eyes. “The truck that comes for a pickup every day, that’s what’s left.”

Knitting my brows in confusion, I say, “I thought we agreed the truck can’t be attacked, that it’s too dangerous.”

“I’m not saying we should attack the truck,” he says. “But think about it, the Urthmen, dumb as they are, leave the gate wide open when the truck comes in.”

“Yeah, and it’s open the entire time the truck is loaded.” As soon as the words fall from my lips, his point crystallizes. “Of course!” I smack my palm to my forehead. How could I have missed that key piece of information? Sully and I have watched the goings and comings of the warehouse for two weeks straight and not once had the Urthmen bothered to secure the front gate to the compound. “The gate is left open the whole time!” My eyes widen with enthusiasm.

“That’s right,” Sully drawls with a nod. “When they come for a pickup, we’ll wait until they’re all in the building, and then we sneak in through the gate.”

My mind is spinning, a thrill of fidgety eagerness propelling it. I’m trying to lessen our chances of being discovered.

Remembering the wild bushes that grow near the outer portion of the wall, I scoop my binoculars from the ground and raise them to my eyes. Immediately, the plants jump out at me as if ringed in a neon color. “We can hide there?” I say and point.

Sully leans in close to me, his upper arm brushing my shoulder. I feel the steely cords of muscle beneath his shirt, and awareness of his close proximity blazes a fiery trail across my skin. His scent fills my nostrils. Grass and a spice I cannot name fuse with another leathery note. It is a scent I’ve come to identify as his alone. “Show me where,” he says, his face so close to mine our cheeks practically touch.

Swallowing hard and leaning away, I answer, “There. Right there,” as I point to the cluster of undergrowth that hugs the barrier.

He squints and looks through the lenses of his binoculars. “Oh, okay. I see,” he says. “So we wait in those shrubs, until they go in?”

I take another look for myself and scan the small portion of the property that’s visible. “Remember the other day when we snuck up and looked in the gate?” I ask.

“You mean the day you said you weren’t waiting around anymore and ran over there without even discussing it first? That day?”

I blush at his recount of the lead-up to our venture. “Yeah, that day,” I say.

“Okay, what about it? You know, other than learning that you’re kind of reckless.”

“Reckless?” My voice pitches up an octave, making plain my outrage. “Are you kidding me? Me, reckless?” I start, determined to scold him.

“Don’t misunderstand me, Avery. I meant it as a compliment,” he says with a calm smirk. “You’re tough. I like that. You take care of June and yourself and you don’t back down.” He rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbows so that his entire body faces me. He looks so relaxed and comfortable, I expect him to yawn at any moment. I, on the other hand, feel anything but relaxed. He reaches out a hand and touches a ringlet of my hair near the small of my back, coiling it around his finger. “I like your hair down. It’s so wild—”

“Okay,” I say and halt any further discussion of me or my hair. He withdraws his hand slowly, smiling, always smiling that lopsided grin of his. I gnash my molars, making a mental note to braid my hair as soon as we return to his underground lair, and take a deep breath. “Getting back to the day we saw what’s beyond the gate. Remember those little wooden shacks?”

Sully bobs his head, recognition flickering in his features. “That’s right. The sheds,” he says in a low voice.

My brain is working quickly, organizing the details as I envision us within the protective walls of the fuel fortress. “We hide in one of the sheds until they leave.”

“The Urthmen inside, we’ll kill them as soon as the truck leaves. We can pop out of the sheds and catch them off-guard,” Sully states.

I gnaw my lower lip and contemplate his statement. “No,” I answer. “No, that wouldn’t be wise. We don’t know what kind of warning system they have in place.”

“Warning system?” Sully asks incredulously. “Are you kidding me? They’re morons! They don’t even lock the gate to keep out bad guys, like us.” He winks at me jauntily.

“Be that as it may,” I say with a small chuckle. “You never know. And I don’t want to take any chances, risk any lives.”

“Yeah, I know one life you don’t want to risk,” Sully mumbles with an edge that unsettles me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask sharply, even though I know he’s referring to Will.

“What?” he asks absently, as if he hasn’t been involved in our conversation in the least. “Oh no, nothing, just that you know, we don’t want to lose anyone. Everyone is too important.” His eyes rove more than usual, refusing to meet my gaze. I get the impression he doesn’t believe what he’s said any more than I do.

“Hmm, okay,” I say and don’t bother to hide my doubt. “As far as the Urthmen are concerned, I think we should let them leave, as usual.”

Sully scratches his chin thoughtfully as he nods in agreement, but freezes, an idea dawning on him. “Yeah, but you’re forgetting that they lock the gate when they leave. How will we get out of there?”

“We’ve watched them hang the key to the lock on the wall right inside the front door every day after they let the truck in. I only hope that’s not the only key. That that’s not the one they use when they leave.”

“Well if the key is not there, we’ll have to blow the lock last thing before we leave. I know it’s not what either of us wants to happen, but what’s the alternative, being stuck inside until daybreak?”

“You’re right,” I add solemnly. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, because then we’re back to square one. Blowing the gate will send Urthmen rushing back and they’ll know what we’ve done. We’ll never be able to come back to get the barrels out of the woods.”

We had planned to hide the gasoline in the nearby woods taking just enough to put into the camper, so we could come back and retrieve the rest.

Sully tunnels his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. He blows a stream of air from between his lips then says, “Let’s hope we don’t have to.”

Silence fills the space between us. Somehow, even the sounds of the forest are drowned out by the thoughts whizzing around in my mind. Tomorrow is the day we will enter the Urthmen’s lair and steal our ticket to freedom.

“Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve seen all we need to see,” Sully says and stands.

“Agreed,” I say as I scramble to a standing position, too, and dust the leaves and dirt from my clothes.

We head toward Sully’s hideaway, careful to remain in the wooded area far enough from the road that we can’t be seen. Leaving Sully’s place at all has become dangerous in the last few weeks, even more than usual. Urthmen have been scouring the region since Prince Neo was killed. They are looking for us. Going to the fuel repository has been extraordinarily hazardous, yet Sully and I have made the trip fourteen consecutive days. During each, I’ve missed June and Will and his siblings. By the time I return in the late afternoon, the time to eat and get ready for bed is upon us, with only the promise of repeating the day’s events looming on the horizon. This night will be different, a fact that makes me want to run full-speed back to Sully’s.

I quicken my pace without thinking, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. June won’t be happy to learn of our intent to break into the warehouse. She’ll protest that it’s unsafe. Everything is unsafe at this point, every move we make beyond the confines of the storm cellar. Once I explain to her that the task is a necessary final step in getting us to the underground city, I’m sure she’ll come around. In the meantime, I just can’t wait to see her face, to see Will’s face.

A rumble accompanied by the sound of raised voices freezes me dead in my tracks. Sully’s arm shoots out to stop me, to protect me if I were dumb enough to move a muscle.

My head snaps in the direction of the sound before my gaze rests on his. His brow is low and his eyes are narrowed. Not perceiving a threat in our immediate vicinity, we take tentative steps away from the path we’re on and toward the section of the forest that thins and meets with asphalt.

Crouching and moving gingerly, we stop at a safe distance from the road so that we remain unseen. We conceal ourselves behind young trees with tapered trunks and slim branches and watch a convoy that has stopped.

“Get down,” Sully urges me. “It’s another patrol,” he says of the rows of visible Urthmen.

Both of us drop to the ground and lie with our bellies pressed to the earth. I lift my binoculars to my eyes, and stare through them.

Urthmen, some on foot and others exiting their vehicles, are gathering around three humans.

I inhale sharply. Sully, seeing what I see, whispers, “What the heck’s going on?”

A large Urthman, larger than the rest, leaps from the passenger seat of a truck. He is dressed similarly to Throm, the Urthman we faced in the arena. A metal plate covers his chest and one arm and a helmet with spikes spaced evenly from his forehead to his nape hides his head and face. With his shoulders thrown back and his head held high, he moves with authority as he approaches the three humans. All the while, a long, arced sheath at his hips undoubtedly holds a blade.

I realize I’ve been holding my breath and gulp a lungful of air. “I-I don’t know,” I answer and glimpse his profile.

Shouting draws my attention back to the pavement. Snippets of what’s being said drift our way. Accusations are hurled along with words I know are vulgar. Prince Neo’s name is mentioned more than once, and my blood freezes in my veins.

“Yeah, I heard it,” Sully replies in a strained voice, his eyes never leaving the scene.

A surge of cries pierces the afternoon and I watch as the humans collapse to their knees after being struck in the backs of their legs by Urthmen. Their wrists are quickly bound behind them, and the large Urthman paces in front of them, his deep voice loud. He unsheathes his weapon, barking at the crying, quivering humans.

Panic swells in my chest. My throat burns, along with the scream lodged there, and the walls of my throat feel as if they’re lined with sand. I want to do something, anything to stop what I fear will happen. He hoists his sword high. The shiny metal gleams, catching the sunlight.

“No, no, Sully, what is he, no,” I mutter incoherently. But before I can finish my sentence, I see the blade flash through the air like lightning, and the nightmarish display in front of me unfolds. The blade lands against flesh. One of the humans who knelt with his head bowed no longer has a head to bow. Eyes still wide and mouth open, the face of the decapitated head is frozen in an expression of abject fright beside the body it belongs to. The two other humans cry out in a wild panic.

The entire scene feels like a hideous dream from which I cannot wake. Cries of outrage, anger, and shock well inside of me, swelling and filling my chest with a trembling need for release. I am vaguely aware that I am holding onto Sully’s hand, that I gripped it moments ago and am now squeezing it, but for the life of me I cannot let it go. My eyes are glued to the horror before me and my hand is bound to his. Without thinking, I drop my lenses and lift myself up onto all fours then slide my feet to a crouching position.

“Avery, no,” I hear Sully whisper, but it’s hard to hear him over the ringing in my ears.

I’m on my feet, my body moving as if of its own volition. Sully yanks me to the ground and cages me with his body. He stares at me, his eyes intense, dangerous almost. “It would be suicide,” he says through his teeth.

“We can’t just stay here and let it happen,” I say between uneven breaths. “He’s trying to find out if they killed Prince Neo, or get information about who did. That’s information they don’t have.”

“You know I want to go as badly as you do. But if we die, no one makes it to the underground city.”

My chest is heaving and my back is damp. “Who cares about that now? Two innocent people are going to die if we don’t help them!”

He squeezes his eyes shut, his expression tormented. “I know,” he says then rolls off me. “I’ll go with you right now if you want to try to save them. But before we do, think about Will, Riley and Oliver. Think about June.” He springs to a squatting position and rubs his hands together. “If we die, June won’t have you. She’ll never make it to New Washington, and they’ll all likely die looking for you.”

Hearing my sister’s name, along with the stark image Sully paints, snaps me back to reality. He’s right. As much as I want to help my fellow people, at the moment, I can’t.

Reluctantly, I pick up my binoculars and peer through them. “Those people are dying because of us,” I say as guilt and shame weigh upon my shoulders with insurmountable heaviness.

I see the towering Urthman, the one in arena battle gear, screaming at the two remaining humans. His arms splay at his sides and spittle sprays from his mouth, then one hand flies to his head and he rips his helmet from it.

I gasp; horrified in a way I’ve never been before. The world comes in and out of focus, vacillating between darkness and light. My mouth goes dry. My heart hammers a rhythm that threatens to crack ribs in my chest. The noise of the forest is suddenly too loud. The incessant caw of birds and shuffle of dried leaves, the squeak of squirrels and chipmunks, the drumming of my pulse in my ears—all of it—is a deafening roar. The dull, tense ache in my head from earlier flares to life.

“Oh my gosh, it’s true,” Sully says, though he doesn’t sound half as stunned or upset as I do.

“What’s true? What’s going on? Why is a human working with Urthmen? Why is he killing his own kind?” My thoughts swirl in dizzying laps around what I thought I knew. I’d always thought the DNA we shared with our fellow human beings bound us, united us, and prohibited us from turning on one another, especially since we are the hunted species. But happening upon the compound weeks ago where young girls were enslaved as breeders and held against their will, and now this, is quickly tearing at the fabric of my beliefs.

“He’s not working with them. He’s leading them,” Sully says, disgust lacing his words. “He’s called The General. He leads King Leon’s army.”

“What?” I ask disbelievingly. “Why? And why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

Sully levels an earnest gaze my way. “I always thought it was a myth. I never really believed a human would do that,” he says and gestures toward the road. His skin has paled. He looks rattled. He takes his head in his hands distraughtly.

Rubbing my temples, I try to wrap my mind around the startling information revealed to me. A question pops into my brain. “Why would Urthmen allow a human, a being they see as lesser, lead their army?”

“I’d say it’s because they know he’s smarter than they are, a better tracker, leader, fighter and soldier. They’re dumb, but even a fool can spot a natural-born leader with a killer instinct.” His words scuttle over my skin like innumerable spider legs. “From what I heard, he doesn’t care that he’s on the wrong side as long as he gets to do what he loves: hunt and kill.”

A chill sweeps over my skin and raises the fine hairs on my arms. “It seems too farfetched,” I say and shake my head.

Sully mimics my movement. “Avery, in this world we live in, farfetched doesn’t exist.”

Reluctantly, I raise my binoculars to my eyes once again. I do so just in time to watch as The General beheads another human being. His upper lip is snarled over his teeth, his expression feral, and a glimmer of madness shines in his eyes. I feel as if I may vomit.

“Dammit,” I say dejectedly as I clutch my midsection and double over. “Another is dead.”

Sully wraps an arm around my waist and snatches the binoculars from my hands. “Don’t watch anymore,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

Nauseated and conflicted, I know he’s right. There’s nothing we can do. We have to return to our hideout, to where June, Will, Riley, Oliver and Jericho wait. Still, it seems wrong to leave. Consumed by shame, I nod in agreement and walk away. More blood of my people has been spilled. I have disgraced them by letting them die. I’ve disgraced myself. I will carry that with me for the rest of my days, the image of their deaths, and that I did nothing to stop them.

Self-loathing squeezes my gut with barbed tentacles. I continue along the path in spite of it. Tomorrow I will return with Sully. We’ll relieve the Urthmen of a few barrels of their fuel and leave the area, our destination an underground utopia where The General does not exist, and beheadings do not occur.

Horrific images continue to flash in my mind over and over as Sully and I head back to his refuge. The gleam of The General’s sword as it cut the air, the twisted delight in his eye, and the gore, so much gore. Imprinted in my brain, the visions are indelible. I’m certain they’ll haunt me for the rest of my days.

Trying to force the execution to the back of my mind, I scan my surroundings. The sun is low in the sky. Treetops and undergrowth glow in shades of vivid orange, rich gold and crimson, their leaves blazing like flames. The world is bathed in fire. The colors, like the temperature, are warm. But I am not. A chill has settled over me that nature cannot thaw.

My entire body trembles, even my jaw, and my legs feel as if they’re struggling to support my weight. Cold, clammy hands refuse to still and alternate between fingering my hair and the hilt of my sword. A part of me would like to stop walking, to just stop right where I am, drop to my knees and weep. I watched two human beings lose their lives because of me. The convoy of Urthmen had been intended for me and the people I’m traveling with, not the innocents who died. The Urthmen wouldn’t have even been out searching, those humans wouldn’t have been caught. Their blood is on my hands, blood that will stain me forever.

My breathing becomes labored, my breaths short pants. I glimpse Sully from the corner of my eye. Fortunately, he isn’t watching me, and he isn’t smirking. To the contrary, he is brooding, his mood as heavy and glum as mine.

A flock of large, black birds unexpectedly bursts from the ground just a couple of steps away from us. I rip my sword from my scabbard and lower my stance, prepared to fight, just as they take flight. I expect Sully to comment on what I’ve done, to mock me even, but thankfully, he doesn’t. The only sound I hear is the squawking, screechy protests of the birds as they take to the sky.

Sully is unusually quiet. I am grateful for his silence. Neither of us has said a word since we left. I don’t trust that I can speak without crying. Crying in front of Sully, or anyone other than June, is not an option. Vulnerability has no place in the world in which I live. So I ignore the tightness in my throat and blink back the tears that threaten. I concentrate on the soft swish and rustle of leaves and the snap of twigs from our footsteps. I breathe deeply and allow the sound to soothe me.

Before long, we cross a small seasonal stream, swollen with water and fallen leaves. It is a familiar sight, one that brings with it a flutter of excitement in my belly. It means we are close, close to Sully’s house, close to June. I picture her sparkling, silvery-blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and the wide smile she will wear when she sees me, and my spirit is buoyed. I remind myself that she is the reason I didn’t rush headlong to aid the humans who’d been captured, that her survival depends on me staying alive. It doesn’t absolve me of my guilt entirely, but it helps a little.

Once we are across the stream, we’re immediately swallowed by an abundance of thorny bushes and brush. Branches, crisscrossed at every turn, threaten to gouge our eyes, and thorny vines that slink along the woodland floor scrape at our pant legs. Trees grow larger the deeper we delve and canopy our path, filtering much of the sunlight. When first I ventured here with Sully and Jericho weeks ago, I found the landscape downright hostile. More than once, I was pricked by spiny burrs and limbs. But now I’m used to it, and while I don’t move as easily and gracefully as they do, I lumber a lot less.

The bushes and undergrowth start to thin and walking becomes much easier. I strain my eyes, and see the nearly invisible wire about chest height. Sully and I exchange nods and turn our bodies sideways then dip our heads and upper bodies beneath the wire. We repeat this process about ten more times, navigating an intricate labyrinth of lines, until a white clapboard structure with sooty streaks smudged from the upper windows to the roof comes into view. The paint is peeling and weeds have grown over the first-story windows, but the house has become a comforting sight. Beside the house, two vehicles are parked. One is a truck and the other is a camper. The camper, once fueled after we steal gasoline from the Urthmen tomorrow, will be our ticket out of the forest, and the savage land in which we live.

Sully, walking just slightly ahead of me, stops suddenly. He whirls and faces me. His eyes brim with darkness, an indescribable suffering I understand all too well. “What happened back there,” he starts, but his voice catches. He scrubs his face with his hands, his movements agitated, and then plants both on his hips. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened back there, okay? I killed Prince Neo, not you. Their deaths are on me,” he jabs his chest with his thumb.

The squeezing in my throat returns and is unbearable. I try to speak in spite of it. “We were all there, and we’re all in this together,” I say in a low raspy voice.

A short pause passes between us. Sully is staring off into the distance, as if searching the horizon line for answers. “I hate myself for letting them die,” he says through clenched teeth.

“I don’t hate you,” I qualify, and his expression relaxes visibly. “Me, I hate me for letting it happen.”

His shoulders slump and a look of defeat clouds his features. “Don’t, don’t do that. You have June. You’d have been a fool to run out there and get yourself killed.”

“Would I have, though?” he asks after huffing bitterly. “I mean really, Avery, if I died saving those three people, who’d miss me, huh? Who’d mourn? Jericho?”

“Of course Jericho would!” I reply without delay. “And June, Will, Riley, Oliver,” I keep count of the names by ticking them off on one hand.

Sully is shaking his head. “No. Those are your people. Other than Jericho, the rest of them are yours. They wouldn’t care in the least if they never saw me again. Some more than others,” he adds sourly.

“Yes they would care. And I would, too. I’d be devastated. But this isn’t about who’d miss you if you died.” I throw my hands in the air in exasperation.

I hesitate for a beat. “It’s about human beings, our people, dying at the hands of Urthmen. It’s about finding a way to get to the underground city you told us about and living in peace.” I make no mention of my intent to rally others to fight, to end the reign of the Urthmen. He’ll find out soon enough. I’ll discuss that with him and everyone else when I have to, and not a moment sooner.

He parts his lips to speak but I raise my hand to silence him. “I know we have a long, dangerous road ahead of us and that it might not work out. But for now I have hope. June has hope. I want to see it through. I want her to have a life that doesn’t include running all the time, and being terrified.”

Sully eyes are locked on mine. He holds my gaze. “I guess you’re right,” he says. For a split-second his expression is unreadable. Then he offers me a half-smile. “Let’s go. I bet you can’t wait to see June.”

He turns and leads the way. I follow him around the side of the house to the back. He begins separating long, reedy weeds until a door, placed flush against the earth, appears. He pulls a key from his pocket, unlocks a padlock looping through two metal hoops and opens the door to the old bomb shelter.

Lower and lower I climb, navigating the rungs as if I’ve been doing it my entire life, until ashen light floods my field of vision. My feet land on a hard floor and Jericho’s deep, smooth voice rumbles. “You’re back early,” he says from behind the bank of solar-powered television screens. The screens show images of what’s going on above us. He likely saw Sully and me talking moments before we came down. Perhaps he even heard our exchange. The audio feed works intermittently.

“Hey Jericho,” Sully calls as he drops to the floor, skipping the last few rungs and landing on both feet.

His entrance is always grand, I think and reflect back to when he saved us in the arena.

“Oh there is, but you’ll have to wait, my friend. We want to tell everyone together.” The corners of Sully’s mouth hook upward to a sneaky smile. He narrows his eyes at me, a playful gleam in his gaze.

“Avery!” June squeals and diverts my attention from Sully and Jericho to her.

I turn in the direction of the sound in time to see my sister rushing toward me.

“You’re back and you’re okay!” she exclaims as she wraps both arms around my waist and squeezes.

My heart doubles in size. I hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head. “Of course, I am. And I’m always coming back.”

Her grip on me strengthens. “You don’t know that. Not for sure,” she says into my shirt.

She’s right. I can’t say for sure that when I leave the confines of Sully’s space I’ll return. I couldn’t say as much when I left the cave, either. Nothing is certain. Her words resonate with truth, and with the fact that she is growing up. Wiser and more mature, June is too smart to be pacified with overly optimistic promises.

“You’re right, June,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t say that to you. You’re older now, and able to handle the truth.”

She leans back and beams at me, crinkling her small nose. I can’t resist poking it lightly with my index finger, as I’ve always done, and she giggles.

Pink tinges her cheeks and her smile broadens. I’m about to ask for the reason that she reacts to Sully as she does when another familiar voice calls my name.

“Avery, hey,” Will says. His arms are folded across his chest and he leans against the wall, his aquamarine gaze intense.

Each day I return from surveying the warehouse, Will looks at me harshly at first, as if I’ve betrayed him in some monumental way, then relief slowly softens him.

He looks from me to Sully. “Hey Sully,” he says without enthusiasm. “You guys are back earlier than usual. Everything okay?”

A hint of something spikes his words, a tone that fuses suspicion and accusation.

Will glares at him with unconcealed distrust. In an effort to defuse the tension, I return my attention to June and say, “Hey, do you mind if I talk for a minute with just Will? Maybe you could keep Sully company while I do.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise, and then Sully and I have something to tell everyone.”

Her eyes widen, her curiosity piqued. She thinks for a moment then answers. “Okay, but hurry up.”

“You got it,” I say and watch as she hurries to Sully’s side. He is bent over beside Jericho watching the monitors closely.

I walk over to Will and nod toward the far corner of the room. He clips his head and follows. We pass Riley and Oliver. Engaged in a chess match, a game Sully found when he took up residence in the bomb shelter, they greet me warmly.

“So,” Will starts. “How was your day with Sully?” Not bothering to mask his jealousy, he practically spits Sully’s name.

After what I saw today, and everything that will happen in the coming days, I have no patience for resentment and pettiness. Our lives are at stake, our futures, and he’s worried about Sully and me growing closer.

“Will,” I say and rub my temples. “There’s nothing going on between us. We go out, watch the warehouse and try to make a plan to get fuel. That’s it.”

“You’re together, all day, and nothing has happened? Nothing at all?” he asks doubtfully.

Will’s head jerks back a bit. Hurt flashes in his eyes. “You know what it matters. You know I—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Will, I can’t even think of anything like that now,” I say sternly; perhaps too sternly. His brows gather in consternation. Softening my tone, I continue. “We don’t have the luxury of this,” I gesture between us, “right now. We need to get out of here and be safe before I can even think about feelings like that.”

I watch as Will’s features collapse and his bright eyes become overcast. He’s upset. It’s written all over his face. He shifts his weight from one leg to the next for several seconds then tips his chin, his expression hardening.

My stomach curls in on itself. I hate what I’ve done to him, how I’ve made his demeanor transform; how I’ve hurt him. I do feel something for him, the strange emotion that makes me restless and nervous when I’m with him, and consumed by thoughts of him when we’re apart. Now just isn’t the time to explore that strange emotion.

“Let’s get out of here, get on the road, and then we can talk, okay?” I say and reach out a hand and place it on his forearm.

I half-expect him to snatch it away. He’d be smart to do so. But he doesn’t. He covers my hand with his and smiles. But disappointment touches his features.

I try not to dwell on it. I try to look ahead to the news I’m going to share in the coming moments, to the prospect of journeying away from where we’re at and resuming the regular threat to our existence we used to have. Not the continual target on our backs we have now.

“Come on,” I say and tug his arm. “Let’s get back to the others. Sully and I have something to share and we want to tell everyone at once.”

As soon as we step from the alcove with the cot, I see that Sully has gathered Riley, Oliver, June and Jericho. “There they are!” he says. “You two were gone so long I started to get worried.”

I want to ask what exactly he’d been worried about, what he’d been implying, but June’s voice stops me.

“I can’t wait another minute. Tell us already! Tell us your big secret,” she urges excitedly.

I feel Will standing behind me when I inhale deeply. My shoulder blade brushes against his chest. The contact comforts me yet leaves me with goose bumps. I rub my hands together and say, “For starters, it’s not a big secret.” I clear my throat, nerves making me stall. “So Sully and I have a plan. We’re going in tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll get inside the warehouse and take the fuel.”

I describe the plan Sully and I have hatched in as much detail as possible. When I’ve finished, heavy silence fills the space around us. The gravity of what I’ve said, of what will happen, crystallizes fully.

June’s smile capsizes. Her exuberance is replaced with fright. She is scared, and for good reason. She moves to my side and interlaces her fingers with mine.

Will paces around our group, stopping opposite me. He watches me, his gaze keen. His brilliant blue-green eyes slice through the sallow light and shimmer like twin turquoise gemstones as he rubs his chin and processes all that I’ve said.

Will speaks before anyone else. “I think it’s a mistake. It’s too dangerous,” he offers without hesitation.

“We are going,” I surprise myself by saying in a strong, clear voice. The words flow from me freely, authoritatively. “We need gasoline to get that camper going. The longer we stay here, the more likely it is that we’ll be discovered and caught. We go. We get the gas, and we get the heck out of here.” I leave no room for further discussion. “You,” I address Will directly, “Sully, Jericho and I will go.” Then to Oliver I say, “You’ll stay here with Riley and June.” All eyes are on me. “We get the fuel and leave as soon as we return.”

The small muscle near Will’s jaw flexes. He is gritting his teeth so hard I can practically hear the enamel of his molars crackling as they pass over one another. My eyes plead for him to understand. I try to wordlessly convey to him that I wasn’t attacking him personally, just that an opportunity exists and we need to take it. His brow is furrowed and the vulnerable look he wore when we were alone is gone. His nostrils flare and anger radiates from him.

The silent exchange occurring between us isn’t lost on Sully. He looks from Will to me, an amused impishness marking his face. My blood boils at the thought that he’s enjoying the bitterness emanating from Will. “Okay then,” he claps his hands loudly. “I guess it’s settled. Tomorrow, we’ll sack the warehouse and get ourselves some gas so we can ditch this place.”

“Tomorrow,” I swallow back the annoyance brimming inside of me then usher June toward the cot. The need to escape Will’s glower burgeons.

I know I have ruined the tenuous goodwill I’d earned after telling him I’d discuss feelings and emotions when we’re on the road. I sense I’ve wrecked everything. Hot tears scald the backs of my eyelids. I blink feverishly. This is not how I’d hoped this would go. I don’t know what I expected, but am certain this was not it. I’m frustrated and scared that I’ve severed the fragile bond between Will and me. The only solace I feel comes when I look at my sister. She is the force that motivates everything I do. She is the reason I wake each morning, and fight. I’ve fought for survival, and I’ll fight for her right to live, safe and free. The first step toward that will be taken tomorrow night when we steal barrels of fuel from the warehouse.

A bead of sweat trails between my shoulder blades and spiny barbs abrade my skin as I hide, tucked within a cluster of bushes. A part of me can’t believe I’m here, covered by the foliage that lines the perimeter of the Urthmen warehouse, ready to advance. The sun beats from overhead and I feel as if my blood is throbbing against my skin so hard it is visible to the naked eye. Adrenaline and nerves have been pounding the rhythm of a war drum inside me, keeping my senses keen and my thinking sharp.

I’m unsure of how long we’ve been waiting. Arriving ahead of the earliest truck appearance Sully and I have ever witnessed, we wanted to make sure we were in place with plenty of time to spare. At the time we’d planned it, this detail seemed prudent. Now, however, waiting for what seems like an eternity seems to be working against us.

Bloodsuckers, along with a variety of other biting bugs, swarm my face. I’d love to swat them, or shake my head at the very least. But I must remain still; we are too close to the gate. I don’t want to draw the attention of the four Urthmen stationed inside. Pinpricks of pain nip at my exposed arms and neck. I’m an afternoon meal as it turns out. I wonder how I’ll look in a few days when each bite blooms. I would groan about the itchiness and swelling that’ll undoubtedly follow, but considering the danger of our position and the endeavor we are about to embark on, I can only hope I live to itch and gripe about each one. It’ll be a small price to pay for freedom.

Crouching and balancing on the balls of my feet, my legs tremble from holding the same position for so long. From the corner of my eye, I see Will and Sully. Jericho is to my left. All of them are positioned the same. I wonder whether they are as uncomfortable as I am.

I shift slightly, turning my head and making brief eye contact with Will as I do.

“Ouch!” Sully hisses and leans to one side and rubs his knee. “I’m dying here.”

I reserve the long list of complaints I could contribute. Will’s disapproving gaze is enough to silence me.

“Forget the thorns and bugs!” he says in a low, disgusted voice. “This bush isn’t very dense. If one of the Urthmen looks hard enough, he’ll see us.”

“They aren’t going to look hard at this bush. Why would they?” Sully retorts in his trademark, offhanded way I’ve become accustomed to.

Will has not adapted as I have. Judging from the look on his face, he thinks Sully is being either arrogant or dismissive, or perhaps both. With his eyes narrowed, Will snaps, “And you’re so sure about this why, exactly? I mean, even an Urthman’s going to notice four idiots crouched in a bush if they look this way. They’d have to be blind not to.”

Jericho chuckles at the interaction, the sound deep and rich. Unflappable, I have yet to see him lose his temper. I wish the other two would adopt his calm disposition. Lately, they always seem seconds away from erupting in an explosive argument.

A distant rumble distracts us from any fighting, both actual and potential. A vehicle is approaching. I hear the sound of tires crunching over gravel, the growl of an engine.

Separating thin branches, I peek and see a truck coming, the very truck that arrives at the warehouse every day. “They’re coming,” I tell Sully, Will and Jericho. “Everyone stay low, and stay quiet.” I shoot a look of warning to Sully then Will.

My pulse hammers against my temples. My knees complain and my sword feels like a boulder on my back. But I do not move. I barely breathe. I watch with bated breath and every muscle tenses as a rusted vehicle approaches. Faded green paint peels and dents mar the body. Oversized tires lift it high off the ground as it paws and climbs over rocky terrain once leaving the paved roadway. My insides are buzzing, vibrating so forcefully it’s difficult for me to stay still. When the truck is close enough for me to smell its foul exhaust, I feel as if I may burst. It stops a stone’s throw away, and a horn honks.

The moment I am in, the moment all of us are in, narrows to a pinhole of distinct color and sound. I notice the minutiae of the situation, the dips and dimples in the metal frame of the truck, the lumps in the paint, and the discordant blare of the horn. We are moments away from slipping within the walls of the warehouse, and my senses are heightened, the world around me amplified.

A voice rings out, the strident tones of the Urthmen guard addressing the others in the truck from the other side of the bars. Though I cannot see him, I know he’s there. I’ve watched the same routine for two weeks. He will unlock the gate and the truck will roll in. Keys jangle and metal rattles. Chatter fills the air, and I estimate that there are at least ten Urthmen in the truck.

My muscles twitch anxiously. Every part of me is ready to move, to spring from the bushes and rush onto the property. My gaze flickers to Sully, Will and Jericho. They’re poised and positioned to move at the first sign that it’s safe.

Seconds tick by and feel like hours. From a comfortable distance and through the lenses of my binoculars, the entire event occurred quicker. Crouched as I am, it seems to last forever.

Finally, iron protests ancient hinges and the gate opens. Then the vehicle’s engine thunders and it begins to move, after a few more minutes of waiting, the voices, loud and boisterous earlier, are quieted, distance muffling them.

Sully turns toward me. His eyes move among Will, Jericho and me. “They’re inside now,” he says. “Let’s move.”

As much as I want all of us to get within the walls of the warehouse and enact our plan, experience has taught me to be cautious. “Let me check first, make sure they’re in,” I say as I stand and navigate thin branches, intending to make my way toward the gate by myself to ensure that we’ve not been seen.

“No way,” Will whispers loudly. His hand grazes my upper arm as he reaches for me. “We’re all going,” he says when I look over my shoulder at him. Sully and Jericho are behind him and a satisfied smirk curves his lips. “We’re all in this together.”

“Fine,” I say. I’m not about to be baited into a battle of wills at this point. We’re too close. Too close to getting what we came here for.

I dash to the wall, pressing my back against the rough, cool stone, and take sidesteps to the gate. After a deep breath and a nod to the others, I poke my head out and peer at the property. The land leading to the building is empty. No Urthmen roam.

I don’t bother to look over my shoulder. I know that Will, Sully and Jericho have heard me, and that the time to act has come. Every cell in my body hums to life, and I sprint toward the warehouse. I follow a path around the side of the building to where the sheds are. All the while, my eyes continually sweep the grounds, worrying and hoping we haven’t been spotted.

The world has fallen silent, save for the beating of my heart and the patter of footsteps behind me. On edge and anxious beyond measure, I expect at any moment to hear the cries of Urthmen, or an alarm sounding to call forth the cavalry. Luckily, I hear neither. We make it to the first shed unseen.

Standing before the ramshackle shack and panting, my eyes zero in on the large padlock attaching two metal loops on either side of the doors. The loops are attached to wooden brackets, and I wonder how secure it is.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hear Will complain quietly. “We don’t have time to mess with locks, and all of them are locked,” he adds as he looks down the line of huts. All of them look as though they’ve weathered more than one war.

My mind races, I need to act fast. I quickly unsheathe my sword and slide the blade under the metal bracket that is attached to the old, worn looking wood of the shed door, trying to pry it off. The brackets do not yield despite expending every ounce of strength I possess.

I hand him my blade and he does exactly as I did. Only, with little effort, the brackets holding one side of the metal loops to the shed snap off and hang to one side.

“Yes he is,” Sully chimes in. “But that was loud, too loud. Everybody, in the shed, quick!”

Not needing further prompting, we file into the shed. The space is small and dirty. Tools of every kind litter the small space. I’ve never seen some of them firsthand, only heard of them or seen pictures. Regardless, I can’t help but marvel how most of them would’ve come in handy when June and I shared the cave. I push the thought out of my mind. We won’t be living in a cave ever again if the plan in progress comes to fruition.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, there’s little room to move. The air is stuffy and warm, and wedged between Will and Sully, I feel as if I may burst into flames.

“I hope no one heard us. If they did and decide to come out, they’ll see the broken latch for sure,” Will says.

“I think we’re okay,” I reply when no one else does. “If they heard us, they’d have been out already. We’d know,” I say, remembering the incident at the house when a male and female Urthman and their offspring found us in their house. Their response had been far from subtle.

“That’s right,” Sully adds. “Urthmen are not exactly known for their restraint, or their intelligence, or their looks.”

Pressing my lips together and bobbing my head, I say, “Can’t argue with that.”

I notice Will roll his eyes right before he wiggles and moves toward the narrow crack between the doors. A thin beam spills in from it and is the only source of light we have.

I shrink away from him, curling my shoulders in an effort to be as far from him as possible.

I stay as I am until I hear the roar of an engine and the sound of tires passing over pebbles and grass. I lean forward and squint through the split between the doors. I see the truck passing.

“That was the truck,” I say, not knowing why I recount what they already know.

Time becomes a guessing game as I watch and wonder when the Urthmen inside the warehouse will leave. The sliver of light that enters the shed has dimmed, its color changing from pale to golden then to a warm salmon pink. The sun will set soon. The Urthmen will leave any minute.

“It’s almost time,” Sully voices my exact thoughts. “They’ll be hightailing it out of here any minute, same as they always do, right Avery?”

I part my lips to answer and a shrill sound rings out. I look from Will to Sully then Jericho, about to ask what it was when a second shriek pierces the ether, and then another and another.

“That sounds like a boart,” I say. “A boart being tortured.” The sound is identical to the squeals and screeches of the enormous mother boart that lost her life while ensnared in a monstrous spider’s trap.

“Why would they torture boarts?” Will asks. “Did you two hear anything like that when you were here watching?”

“We were too far away looking through binoculars,” I say. The sounds of the forest change as the sun lowers. Any out-of-the-ordinary sound we may or may not have heard would have been chalked up as just that, I think but do not say aloud.

“Something’s not right. I don’t like this at all,” Will says without turning to face the rest of us.

Will whips around, his postures ramrod straight and challenging. “What was that, Sully? What’d you say?”

Sully thrusts his face forward and tips his chin. “I said stop being such a little girl.”

“I’ll show you a little girl,” Will growls as he advances a step toward Sully. He is looking over my head at Sully. His upper body is pressed against my arm. I feel his heart thundering against my skin as he continues to move, as if trying to plow through me.

Turning, I place both hands on his chest, stopping him. “Cut it out,” I say forcefully. “Both of you. This isn’t the time.”

They stare each other down for a long moment, their expressions hard. The moment is surreal. We’re on the verge of sneaking into an Urthmen warehouse to steal fuel and actually make headway toward getting to the underground city and they’re ready to tear each other apart! “I mean it. Too much is riding on this,” I hiss.

Both men retreat, a point I’m grateful for. In the dim light of the shed, I see a set of teeth gleaming. Jericho is smiling, undoubtedly finding the humor in a small woman scolding two men who easily double her weight. And both men listened.

Tense minutes pass. The odd cries persist. Nerves and hunger conspire and make me jittery. I nearly jump out of my skin when the sound of vehicles echoes. I rush to the doors, pushing past Will and stare out through the crack. The sun has dipped below the horizon line. Just an arc of the fiery disk remains visible. The sky is banded in orange and lavender. But my eyes do not linger there. They are drawn to two sets of headlights that slice through the deepening shadows. Two cars approach. Though I am confident they can’t see me, aren’t even looking my way, I recoil. But my eyes remain fixed on them. The closer they come, the better able I am to see that interior lights illuminate the faces of two Urthmen in each car. All four guards are leaving. In seconds, the warehouse will be left unoccupied.

My pulse skyrockets and my hands begin to tremble. “They’re leaving,” I say to Will, Sully and Jericho. The energy in the room shifts. Animosity bleeds from the air, replaced, instead, by anticipation. I continue to scrutinize the vehicles when they come to an abrupt stop. One climbs out and affixes a chain and lock between the iron gates, effectively trapping us inside the walls surrounding the warehouse. “Okay, the gate is locked, and they’re pulling away.”

I await a snide comment from Sully. When one doesn’t come, I’m surprised, and relieved.

We remain inside the shed for several more minutes, listening, making sure we are alone. Squeals still tear through the fast-approaching night. The longer I hear them, the more convinced I am that they are the sounds of distressed boarts.

My stomach feels as though innumerable butterflies are dive-bombing when I take my first steps out of the shed and onto the grassy area surrounding the storage facility. Darkness has fallen, swathing everything in its wake in murky shadows. I steal toward the building, reaching out with all my senses. I look over my shoulder to my left and quickly discover the source of the tormented yelps. Hoisted high in the air and tied up by their hind quarters, two boarts that easily triple my girth writhe and flail as they protest. Massive shoulders roll and generous bellies jiggle as they try in vain to free themselves. Small eyes sitting atop generous snouts dart frantically, and pointed tusks that bulge from lower jaws carve the air.

“What the,” Sully does a double-take as he sees the boarts dangling, never finishing his thought.

An answer escapes me. None of it makes sense. I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. “I don’t know,” I answer as a shiver of unease sweeps across my skin. “Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Let’s move, get what we came for.” With trepidation, I look away from the boarts, a feeble attempt to avert the warning whispering through me, and race toward the building.

I take several strides then suddenly the ground disappears from beneath my feet. My stomach bottoms out and all breath leaves my body as I slam my chin and chest against hard earth. Scrambling, I reach for grass, roots, rocks, anything I can find, searching desperately for something to hold on to and keep myself from falling. My fingers curl around a lip of dirt, my fingernails burrowing within it as I cling for dear life. Blackness threatens beneath me. I sense danger that supersedes plummeting to the darkened ground below.

“Avery!” Will’s voice calls out. He rushes toward me. I hear Sully’s voice as well.

I struggle to grasp the soil. The muscles in my hands spasm, I’m losing my grip.

“Help,” I barely manage as a series of aches branch from my palms up my arms, weakening my hold so that my fingertips begin to slip.

Firm hands latch onto my wrist and Will’s face appears before me. “I got you,” he says. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Within seconds, Sully is beside him. He grabs my other arm and both of them pull me out of the hole. Sharp rocks and exposed roots scrape my body as I am yanked onto my belly.

“Are you okay?” Will asks, panic lacing his words. I clamber to my feet, my arms and legs wobbly from the shock of falling suddenly. “What the heck happened?” He grips my upper arms and asks, and even in the dim light of dusk, I can see the concern etched in his features. He pulls me toward him, the heat of his body tempting. I’d like to collapse into his arms and let him comfort me, even if only for a minute. But I can’t. There isn’t time for comfort. We need to get our fuel and leave as quickly as possible.

I turn away from him and look behind me. Black against the cyan shadows that blanket the world around us, the circular hole raises every hair on my body. “Oh no,” I breathe. “No.”

“What? What is it Avery?” Jericho asks and appears at my side. He cups my elbow.

Clearly, Jericho hasn’t spent much time deep in the forest as I have. “A Lurker hole. Lurkers are what I call the creatures that come out at night, the ones that look like animals and humans combined. You’ve seen them, right?”

“Yes,” he replies. Realization slowly takes hold. His onyx eyes widen and a deep frown creases his face.

I look from side to side, sensing danger looming on the horizon. The boarts hanging from ropes, the Lurker hole, and the lack of Urthmen present in the night—each fact gels, shaping the situation in which we’re currently placed. They are keeping Lurkers as guards. The Lurkers hide away all day and only come out at night after the Urthmen leave. Fleetingly, I glance at Will, Sully and Jericho. “We need to get inside the warehouse now.”

Without hesitation, they follow as I dash to the front of the building where a door waits. But as we approach, two shapes hang upside down from cords. They are unmoving, and they are not alone.

Lurkers, six in all, feed on the proffered boarts. They yelp and chuff softly as they devour the meat, and the wet, slopping sound of feeding chills the marrow in my bones. Blood and saliva dangles from their sizable jaws. A dozen eyes glow hungrily. Manes of golden hair that match the paleness of their gleaming eyes billow in the slight breeze that stirs, and impressive paw-like feet with long, lethal talons tear at the flesh of the animals before them. They are monstrous, hideous beasts. And Will, Sully, Jericho and I are close to them, too close.

Terror rockets through me, jolting my system as if lightning has passed through my veins. “Run!” I say. The word is a raspy whisper that passes from my lips, but everyone with me hears it.

We tear off toward the rear of the building. I do not need to look over my shoulder to know we’re being followed. The thunderous clatter of the Lurkers’ pursuit resounds through the enclosure. Emitting spine-tingling howls, they’ve caught our scent and will not relent until they’ve caught us.

Panic screams through my core. They are gaining on us. When we round the corner of the warehouse I see there is a rear door in sight, I also see a pickup truck parked by the far corner. Two Lurkers spring from behind it. Cruel tawny eyes glower at us and I wonder if they see us, and if they have, why they haven’t pounced yet. I freeze, Will, Sully and Jericho halting alongside me. My heart batters my ribcage, and my every instinct demands that I scream. I do not scream, though. I hold my cries inside, taking the tiniest of breaths. The Lurkers on our trail are now behind us, I hear their panting. We are trapped between two sets of predators. I see the blonde mane of one rouse as a breeze blows pale wisps across his eyes. He closes them briefly, as if savoring the scent of the wind, before opening them wide.

A thick band of saliva gathers at the corner of his mouth and dribbles to his chest, and his demeanor stiffens. A shudder passes through him, making his flanks quiver visibly. They’re toying with us, enjoying the moment before they strike.

Nerve endings spark to life and I break for the set of doors. I push and pull the handle and then ram it with my shoulder. Behind me, I hear the soft swooshing sound of paws loping over grass. It is the only warning before the eerie stillness explodes in a chaotic frenzy. The shrill bay of a beast rips through the night. I spin in time to see a Lurker fly through the air with ferocious speed and fierce agility. It hurls its body at Sully, knocking him to the ground. Its front paws, armed with deadly talons, pin Sully to the ground.

Small ripples quiver along his flanks as if the urge to feed becomes too overwhelming for him to bear.

But before he clamps down, Jericho descends on him, swinging his mallet in a wide arc. The hammer-like head connects with the beast’s skull with a thwack, sending blood, teeth and an eyeball careening through the air. The Lurker wails, the bloodcurdling shriek of an injured creature, and rolls off of Sully. The other Lurker, seeing his pack mate fall, attacks and sinks his teeth into Jericho’s arm. I unsheathe my sword and am about to lop its head off at its neck when Sully bounds to his feet with his gun in hand. He fires four shouts that penetrate the fiend’s temple. Gore and bits of matter I can only assume are brain tissue scatter in every direction.

My stomach roils, threatening to spew. I twist my upper body and double over and catch sight of a dozen more scuttling toward us.

Jericho launches his leg forward against the doors, kicking it with all his might. Loud cracking sounds and the two doors swing inward. We race over the threshold and find a thick piece of wood split in two pieces. Slamming the doors behind us, knocking sounds echo through the hollows of the building as Lurkers’ heads butt against them. Scratching and howling follows. I press my back to the doors with Jericho and Will and watch as Sully retrieves the pieces of broken wood and lodges them through the handles.

He’s right. The wood will secure it temporarily. With the wood in place Jericho leans his impressive form against the doors for reinforcement.

Submerged in darkness, the warehouse is little more than a towering structure filled with menacing shapes. Sully pulls the bag from his back and unzips it. From it, he pulls a torch and lights it. A soft glow illuminates barrel after barrel lined neatly along the perimeter of the space.

Sully marches over to one. With a blade he slides from a sheath at his thigh, he pries the lid off of one. The odor that seeps from it fills the room. Unpleasant and unfamiliar, it is the scent of freedom; if we can escape the warehouse unscathed.

My gaze volleys between Will and Sully. Then an idea strikes. “Sully, do you think that truck in the yard works?”

Rubbing the back of his neck after replacing the lid of the barrel, he considers my question. I wonder how he can possibly concentrate. The fevered barks of the Lurkers, the scraping and thumping, are maddening. “I hope so,” he says.

A loud smash at the door causes Jericho’s body to lurch forward. Planting both feet, he leans back, pushing more purposefully, determined to keep the Lurkers out as long as he physically can.

I marvel at his ability to smile despite having a pack of bloodthirsty Lurkers clawing at the door behind him, just a plank of metal standing between them. Sully flashes in my peripheral view. He scales shelves and skillfully climbs an exposed girder, pausing when he reaches a low-hanging rafter.

“Avery!” he calls to me. “Come here!” His eyes glitter with an emotion that teeters between madness and excitement. I pause and glance at Will and Jericho, and then clamber up shelves and the girder until I am beside Sully. He straddles the rafter and looks out a narrow, rectangular window. He lifts the pane of glass. A mild evening breeze carries the scent of moss and fallen leaves. Pointing beyond the frame, he says, “Look.”

I lean over him and gaze down. I see the truck. I also see a sizable pack of Lurkers gathered around the door Jericho is pressed against.

“I’m going to go out this window and get into that truck. I’ll lead those things, the Lurkers, after me and away from the door.”

“What?” I snap my head toward him, no longer looking out at the scene beyond the pane of glass. “No! Too many things could go wrong! You could break your leg. It’s a far drop. Or the door could be locked. Or there might not be any fuel in the truck.”

“So am I! Sheesh! You sound like him,” he says and clips his head toward Will down below.

“Sully, this is serious. If anything goes wrong you’re . . .” I can’t bring myself to say the word “dead.” Truth is, I’ve grown used to Sully. He’s become a trusted ally I’d much rather see in one piece.

“Dead? I know. If anything goes wrong, I’m dead.” He shrugs casually. “Oh well. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

“No! It’s not well!” I fire back. “And how are you going to start the truck if everything plays out exactly as you want it to?”

“Man oh man, you’re a bag of questions aren’t you?” His eyes dance with amusement. I am anything but amused. I narrow my eyes and drill him with an angry look. He throws both hands in the air in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! Enough with the death stare. I get it. You’re mad at me. But just for your information, I know how to start a car without a key. Cross a couple of wires and presto! The car starts.” He snaps his fingers for effect.

I wish I shared his confidence. Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Avery, it’s the only way. There’s no other possibility of us getting out of here alive. You know it, and I know it.”

I glance out the window again. Lurkers are pacing, plotting in their own primitive, feral way. Almost imperceptibly, I feel my head bob. He’s right. There’s no other way for us to leave the warehouse, let alone leave with the fuel, and not become an evening meal.

“I’ll come around and honk the horn when I pull up to the door. The three of you are going to have to move as fast as you can, open the door and throw four barrels of fuel into the bed of the pickup and jump in. Jericho’s the strongest. He can grab the barrels and put them by the doors. Be ready,” Sully says as if I’ve agreed to him going. His eyes are locked on mine.

His features smooth for a split-second, his face an unreadable mask of emotion. All too soon, though, he smiles his lopsided smile. “I’ll see you around, beautiful,” he says then slides both legs out the window. He hangs for a moment, and then drops to the ground below.

A cry catches in my throat. What has he done! I know there isn’t another way, but watching him go, watching him fall felt like watching a man willingly walk to his death.

Immediately, I lunge for the window and peer down, straining my eyes against the darkness, and see him rush to the truck. He rips open the door and jumps in. Lurkers race toward the sound, but he is oblivious of them just yet. He is hunched low and fumbling with something below the steering wheel. I want to shout, to call out to him to look out, that the Lurkers are coming, but he can’t hear me.

Just as the Lurkers are stalking toward the truck, the engine roars to life and the headlights carve the gloom. He reverses the truck, kicking up a spray of rocks and debris as he cuts the steering wheel sharply. Surging forward now, he speeds away, toward the front of the building with Lurkers chasing him.

Clumsily, I retrace my steps and drop to the warehouse floor below. “Jericho, we need you to grab four barrels of gas and place them by the door. As soon as we hear a horn we have to open the doors, toss them into the back of the truck and jump in behind them as fast as possible.” The words pour out of me fast and furious. Time is ticking away, our fates jeopardized with every mark off.

Jericho bounds to his feet, not needing any explanation, while Will and I take his place at the door. I doubt any Lurkers stayed behind, but I do it anyway. When he returns with the final barrel, he isn’t winded in the least.

I am out of breath, anxiety getting the better of me. We wait for what feels like forever until an engine rumbles beyond the doors and a horn blares.

Will yanks the wood from the door handles and swings the door wide. The rear of the pickup truck is right in front of us, waiting. Jericho places one barrel into the bed, and then another. Will and I struggle to carry one together and barely manage to get it inside when we spot Lurkers advancing.

Abandoning the last barrel, I dive into the back of the truck, Will and Jericho a step behind me. The vehicle dives forward. Will slams the hatch shut, saving a barrel from slipping out, as we rocket headlong away from the warehouse.

Baying and crying rings out over the sound of the engine. We are tossed around as we careen over bumps. When the ground beneath us flattens, I look behind me and see the slain bodies of two Lurkers. I want to clap, to celebrate somehow, but more pace us. Wind rushes through my hair as Sully accelerates. The front gate fast approaches.

“Hold on!” I hear Sully shout seconds before the grill of the truck meets with the metal of the gate.

The truck collides with the gate. The angry blast separates the chains that held both sides in place and sends their mangled remnants flying. Will, Jericho, and I slam into each other, as well as barrels. My jaw meets with an elbow, my stomach with a skull. But the worst pain comes when my head meets with a moving barrel. A kaleidoscope of pain flares behind my eyes and for a moment I fear I cannot open them. But when I do, I draw in a sharp breath.

A navy sky rolls out like a stretch of jewel-crusted velvet before my eyes. We are out of the warehouse, off the property, and headed toward Sully’s hideout. We’re on the open road. We made it.

“Everybody all right?” I hear Sully’s voice and realize he’s taking though a small, side-sliding window at the back of the cab.

I sit up and see we haven’t been followed. Will is rubbing his lower back and Jericho holds his hip, but all in all, we’re okay.

Will turns toward me. An unhurried smile bends the corners of his mouth. We say nothing; just hold each other’s gazes for a long while. For a moment, we are the only people in the world. Possibilities are endless. We’ve achieved a victory. We now have the means to journey to New Washington. We now have a say in our destiny.

Shooting down the road, the tires of the stolen pickup truck glide over the asphalt. I’ve never been in a vehicle, never even seen one this close, until now. I’m sitting with my knees tucked to my chest, my back resting against the side of the rear compartment. Overhead, the sky is an endless stretch of indigo, shimmering and dizzying in its vastness. At any given moment, an Urthmen convoy could stop us, or a single Urthman could spot us. The risk is grave, graver than it’s ever been since I left the forest. But try as I may, I can’t seem to keep from smiling. Wind rushes at me in a cool roar that whips my hair and clothing and sends it billowing. My insides bubble, teeming with both adrenaline, and pure excitement. A fit of hysterical laughter effervesces in my chest. I take every measure to suppress it, but it’s hard. We aren’t safe, not by a long shot. The chance of being seen remains a constant threat. Still, I’m giddy.

That sentiment doubles when Sully pulls off the paved road and navigates the truck between trees and shrubs.

Heading toward his hideaway, he slides aside the small window at the back of the cab. “Hey Jericho, once we get close, I’m going to slow down. I want you to start clipping the trip wires.”

The gravity of his words, of their implication, hits me. We won’t need trip wires to protect us from Urthmen search parties. We’ll have a degree of freedom. My smile broadens. Freedom is a state of existence June and I have never experienced, none of us have experienced. True, the road to the underground city will be dangerous. Urthmen roam the land. But as Sully has told me, far fewer live near the desert. The likelihood of encountering them will be lessened the closer we get. And Lurkers don’t stray beyond the heart of the forest. Imagining a life that doesn’t include constant running and hiding causes tears to moisten my eyes. I blink them back as we veer right and Sully slows.

Jericho rises and balances on his knees, removing a small pair of wire cutters from his pants pocket. Once he’s close to the first wire, he snips it. The click of his tool is the sound of shackles being removed. I want to clap and cheer, to celebrate.

We’re moments away from the safe house where June waits. The dilapidated white house is in sight. We are by no means safe, especially now that Jericho has cut each wire we passed, yet my spirits remain undaunted.

Sully pulls the truck close to the bomb shelter. When we reach the spot where the door is covered by bramble, he stops and turns off the engine. Will and Jericho climb out followed by me.

“We have to hurry and get out of here fast. If there’s a patrol at the warehouse already, they’ll flood the area in no time,” Sully says.

His statement returns me to reality. My smile capsizes. My thoughts return to June’s immediate safety. “I’ll go get the kids,” I say.

“Great,” Sully says then tosses me his keys. His eyes do not hold their usual twinkle of mirth. To the contrary, they are hard. His brows low and his jaw is set determinedly. “Jericho, Will, help me load the barrels into the camper.”

Both men nod then turn to unload the truck. I run to the covered patch beneath which the hatch waits. Throwing branches and leaves to the side, I unlock the latch, open the door and descend the ladder.

With each step my foot lowers, my anticipation mounts. I can’t wait to see their faces, to see June, Riley and Oliver and tell them the good news.

As soon as my feet hit the concrete floor, I see them. Oliver’s arms are folded across his chest. He resembles Will so much that I do a double-take. Riley’s arms are wrapped around her midsection and June is wringing her hands. They are in the far corner of the room, huddled and deep in conversation.

June’s gaze flickers toward me, and her eyes widen. “Avery!” she cries as she runs toward me. “I was so worried!” She doesn’t slow before she slams into me and clamps her arms around my waist. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says, her words muffled by my shirt.

Riley and Oliver make their way toward me. Their steps are timid, their expressions cautious. They fear the worst has happened. I can see it in their eyes.

“Everyone’s fine—Will, Sully, Jericho—we’re all fine,” I say and watch as their features smooth. “But we have to leave now.”

“Yes,” I answer. “And we need to get out of here right away. Urthmen will be in the area any minute now.” I look from face to face, letting the seriousness of our situation temper any excitement they may be feeling. We aren’t out of the woods yet, literally. “Let’s go.”

With June, Riley, and Oliver in tow, I scamper up the ladder and see that Jericho is pouring fuel into what I assume is the gas tank while Will is heaving the last barrel into the camper. I make my way toward them then load the kids inside. Sully is approaching. He pushes a two-wheeled vehicle.

He shrugs. “You never know. Plus, I love this thing. I’ve always wanted to ride it, but I never had any fuel.” He looks at it adoringly. “This is my baby.”

“Well then I hope you two are very happy together,” I say with a smile before I toss his keys back to him. I turn and climb inside.

We had already loaded the camper with our personal belongings the night before, as well as enough food, and water to last the trip. I hadn’t bothered to take a good look at the interior of the camper last night. But now that I know it will be our home for the next week or two I take it in.

The interior smells vaguely of mold and earth. The scent is divine as far as I’m concerned, as is the look of the place. Cabinets in a light wood color are mounted high and run the length of the wall opposite me, and a small window sits above a sink. On either side of the sink, odd-looking contraptions are situated. Doors that are darker in color and hinged sit below knobs and buttons. I’m fairly sure they’re machines of convenience those who came before us used in their kitchens prior to the War of 2062. Regardless of their purpose, I marvel at their design, at the sleekness and craftsmanship. Moss colored curtains, though tattered and faded, hang on both sides of the four windows and match the stripes in the fabric of the seats. Beside the kitchenette, two seats face each other, a table that juts from the wall between them. Long, couch-like structures are positioned opposite each other past the table. I sit on one. My backside sinks in immediately, the cushions cradling me. I’ve never sat on anything so comfortable. I suppose this is what it would feel like to rest on a cloud.

June is already seated across from me between Riley and Oliver. “It so comfy, right, Avery?” she says. “And did you see the room with the toilet? Can you imagine? A toilet is on the camper!”

“Where does the, you know, waste go?” Riley scrunches her features and asks.

“Yeah, right. Where does it all go? Do we have to bring dirt with us to cover it like we do normally? And what’s the other thing hanging above it, you know, the handle with the circle at the top with holes all in it? What’s that for?” Oliver asks.

Thoughts of Urthmen and Lurkers have transformed to ones of comfortable seats and bathroom equipment. A smile rounds my cheeks. “I have no idea,” I answer. “All of your questions are great. I just don’t have the answers to any of them.” I start to chuckle. Quickly my chuckle blossoms and becomes full-blown laughter. The children join in. Before long, we’re laughing like loons.

We’re laughing so hard, we don’t notice that Will is standing nearby. “What’s so funny?” he asks, grinning.

Between giggling fits, June says, “Poop. We’re wondering where the poop goes.” She’s gasping, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she clutches her belly.

He clearly doesn’t get what we’re laughing about, but I don’t care. For once I feel light and silly and a bit woozy, unlike I’ve ever felt before; unlike myself.

Sully’s voice echoes about our merriment. “Are we ready?” he asks. I assume he’s loaded the bike into the camper. He’s behind the steering wheel. Jericho is in the passenger seat. “Let’s see if this thing starts.”

Theatrically, he lifts the key high then inserts it into the ignition. The engine splutters for a brief spell then turns over.

“I knew it would,” Sully says. I see his eyes in the rearview mirror. They watch me. I toss him a wide smile, and he reciprocates with his own.

He guides the camper over rough terrain. The vehicle is unwieldy compared to the pickup truck as it lumbers begrudgingly over rocks, brush and overgrown grasses. Slowly, but surely, however, we make it to a paved path. We follow the road for a while, until Sully turns off onto another.

“What’s a highway?” I ask. I vaguely remember hearing the word once or twice but never understood the context in which it’d been used.

“It’s a long roadway that connects towns and cities. In our case, it’s the road that will take us to the underground city.”

Evading debris that clutters another paved path, Sully turns onto a wide, open street. Houses and shops are absent. All that’s visible is an endless stretch of blacktop, the beams of the camper’s headlamps lighting the immediate space before it.

My head swivels. I look to the left and right, then behind us. We aren’t being followed. We’re alone. Pattering an elated beat, my heart thumps wildly. We’re leaving. June and I are in a motorized vehicle and actually leaving a woodland held hostage by Urthmen.

“Woohoo! We’re on our way!” Sully’s fist pumps, his voice booming as it fills the camper with enthusiasm. “Yeah!” he cheers and bangs his clenched fist against the side of the camper.

His passion is contagious. I find myself mirroring his action, cheering and knocking my fist against the camper wall behind me. Will and Jericho follow suit, thumping their fists against the camper walls. Oliver and Riley join in and the vehicle erupts in a roar of excitement.

Though I am tired and hungry and am venturing out into uncharted lands toward an uncertain future, I am thrilled, an emotion I’ve never felt in my entire life.

Golden light glows against a pastel-blue sky as the sun hovers just above the horizon. Day broke a while ago, bathing the world around me in bright, unforgiving beams. The landscape beyond the windshield is stark. Faded pavement gives way to tall grass and bushes laden with berries.

I glance over my shoulder and see June sleeping beside Riley. Riley’s arm is draped across her waist, both girls snoring softly. Oliver sits at the table. His arms are folded in front of him, his head resting atop them as he naps. My gaze moves to Jericho. His expression is one of complete serenity as he dreams, his enormous body dwarfing the seat he occupies. Will is across from him, sprawled out on a long, fabric covered seat. His features are relaxed, his aquamarine eyes closed. Sully’s profile is illuminated by the early sunlight. Though wearied from traveling, he remains a welcome sight. All of them are. I realize how fortunate I am to know them. Our lives are entwined now. They are mine and I am theirs.

With a thankful sigh, I cast my eyes to the highway once more. Occasionally, a car litters the side of the road. Each that we’ve passed looks the same as the others. Broken windows, chipped and rusting frames, and brush growing in and around them, the sight of the cars unsettles me. People, humans just like me, drove them at one point. Now they are little more than eerie reminders of a world destroyed.

“Not as exciting as you thought it’d be, huh?” Sully’s drowsy voice interrupts the numerous thoughts rattling around in my brain.

Sully makes a soft snorting sound that resembles a laugh, but the corners of his lips only lift briefly.

Sully blinks several times then shakes his head. His jovial demeanor has long-since faded, replaced instead with a brooding calm so unlike him I start to worry. Ruffled sandy hair sticks up in tufts, and his eyes are bloodshot. Several times his hand leaves the steering wheel and rubs the back of his neck. His exhaustion is evident. I don’t know how he’s continued driving as long as he has. Many hours have passed. Everyone has slept, except Sully.

I want to do something, to help him somehow. I don’t know how to drive. Jericho said he would try next, but he left the passenger seat a while ago in favor of a couple of hours of sleep. Will and the children dozed earlier. Only Sully and I are awake, and Sully seems to be on the verge of nodding off at any moment.

“What can I do to help?” I ask after I see him rear his head and widen his eyes unnaturally, as if forcing them open.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” His eyes leave the road and land on me. As they do, the front end of the camper veers slightly to the right, to where his gaze has traveled. He catches his lapse and adjusts the wheel accordingly, straightening the front end of the vehicle. “Whoa,” he says. “That’s not supposed to happen.” A small chuckle passes through his lips.

He grins widely, a glimpse of how he is when he’s fully rested returns. “So Will’s still asleep I take it.” His words are more of a question that a statement.

“Yup. Will, June, Riley, Oliver, and Jericho are passed out on those couch things in the back.”

“I thought it got quieter now that Jericho knocked out. You know how loud he gets, always yapping and making a racket.” He shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, Avery. And smile. Both are nice. You’re always so serious.”

“What else am I supposed to be?” I squirm in my seat. “Keeping June alive after my father died was not exactly something that kept me laughing and smiling.”

Sully nods solemnly. “I guess not.” After a moment, he adds, “What about Will? Didn’t it help when he came into the picture? Having another adult, another person to hunt and make decisions with, didn’t that help?”

“Will and the others weren’t with us long, just one night before we left the cave and fled the forest. I’d just met them.”

“Hmm.” Sully scratches his chin. “That’s interesting news.” A glimmer of amusement returns to his eyes. He makes a clucking sound with his tongue. “Very interesting.”

“And you’d be right if you did. Only a shy person such as myself would assume the identity of an Urthman, sit myself among them in an arena and rescue a gorgeous damsel in distress as she’s about to be slaughtered.”

Sully head snaps in my direction. “Wait, what did you just say? That I’m brave?”

“Attractive.” He draws out every syllable of the word and makes his brows dip, a naughty smile playing across his lips.

“Ouch, that was cold. Ya know, if you do think I’m cute, it’s just the two of us. No one would hear you say it.” He nods over his shoulder to the sleeping group in back before watching me. “All alone with no supervision.”

“Hey, eyes on the road!” I try to sound stern but it’s hard when I’m as happy as I am. We’re in a vehicle and leaving the constant threat of being killed. He’d be hard-pressed to upset me. Even his silly comments and facial expressions are somehow less obnoxious.

“No, no back to our discussion. You need to rest. I can take over if you want.”

Sully yawns, as if on cue. “I’m good for a little bit longer. Then you can take over.”

Silence stretches between us. The only sounds I hear are the sounds of sleeping people and the tires of the camper racing over asphalt.

“Driving, steering,” I say and immediately regret my question. It’s just that the camper is so big and the steering wheel is so small. The proportions don’t make sense.

I hadn’t realized I looked nervous until I catch sight of my hands in my lap. Squeezing and twisting them so hard the knuckles blanch, I wring both and see how Sully got the idea that I’m anxious. “It’s just so big, the camper is huge.”

“Avery, from what I’ve heard about you, you know, how you’ve killed boarts, Urthmen, monstrous spiders, and a whole slew of other creatures I’m sure, driving will be a breeze. Don’t sweat it. And besides, I’ll be right here with you.”

Sully’s brow furrows and his lips press together. I worry I’ve offended him. I’m about to ask as much when he begins speaking.

“Avery, there’s something I want to tell you, something I haven’t told the others.”

Stiffening, I brace myself for what promises to be bad news. “Yeah, go ahead.”

I remember refueling earlier, the relevance of him saying as much not quite dawning.

His words sink in my chest like a stone. I hadn’t thought about leaving the fourth barrel of gasoline behind. All I’d worried about in the moments before we tore out of the warehouse property was living long enough to use the fuel we’d just stolen.

“Are you sure?” is all I can think to ask. “I mean, do you know for a fact that we won’t make it without that last barrel.”

“No, I’m not sure, just guessing. I don’t know how many miles per gallon this thing gets and I don’t know the exact distance in miles we have to travel, so I can’t calculate the exact amount of fuel we’d need. All I know is that it’s going to be close for sure.”

I close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose. My overwhelming sense of joy and nothing-can-get-me-down attitude has been upended. What would we do if we ran out of fuel in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but barren land surrounding us? How would we survive? How would I feed June? Despair begins to take hold. Breathing deeply, I battle it back.

“Fine,” I lie. “But do me a favor; let’s not tell the others about this. We don’t know anything for certain. Why worry them when we aren’t positive?”

“Good. I don’t want to talk about it either. I don’t even want to think about it.” I want to tell him that the idea is too terrifying to consider, that all we’ve been through, all the hope hitched to this trip, might end in disaster is too much to bear.

“You got it,” he agrees, but still maintains an apprehensive expression. Eventually, though, his eyes return to the road. We continue along the highway in silence.

My mood has dampened, a new fear encroaching on the thrill of escaping the life that bound us like chains. This fear is compounded when, in the distance, I see roughly six shapes. Misshapen heads sheathed in nearly transparent skin that do little to cover the expansive, vivid entanglement of veins that web them stand out in the brightening daylight.

“Urthmen,” I state the obvious. “I don’t see a vehicle. They’re just wandering.”

We are upon them and Sully slows slightly. Lidless eyes shrouded in a thick, milky film stare at us. Their shock is plain.

I snap my head toward Sully and see that his hand is at the center of the steering wheel, depressing it. His other hand is nearly at the windshield, his middle finger erect. “Ha, ha!” he laughs maniacally. “That’s right! This finger is for you!” he shouts at them.

“What’s that mean? That finger you’re holding up, is it a signal of some sort?”

“The bird,” he repeats as if I should automatically understand what he means.

He shakes his head and smirks. “Forget it. It’s an old signal. It means something bad, okay. Like a curse word.”

“Oh,” I say as thumps echo through the camper. They are the sound of footsteps as Will and Jericho rush toward us.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Will asks. His eyes are puffy and rimmed in dark crescents as they look between Sully and me.

“Nothing. Sorry about that, about the whole horn honking and shouting,” Sully says. “I shouldn’t have done either. You guys were sleeping.”

For once, Sully seems sincere. Sleep is a rare commodity and he knows that better than anyone else.

She appears, along with Riley, in the space between Will and Jericho. Both girls are wide-eyed, frightened from being startled awake.

“Nothing is wrong, sweetie. I promise. We passed them. They’re gone. Sully just had some fun with them, blowing the horn and making a gesture that means something really rude.”

“What?” I say as I turn my gaze toward him. In my periphery, I see the road ahead. My head spins, my eyes pinned on what lies before us as a numbing coldness spreads over my flesh. “Oh my gosh,” I breathe.

In front of us, the roadway is blocked. More than a half-dozen broken down cars span the pavement from one end to the next, and trees that begin heavily wooded land acts as a natural barricade beyond the metal barrier in place. Urthmen line them, clubs in hand, as if waiting for something.

“Us,” I swallow hard and whisper. “They’re waiting for us.” My heart pumps frenetically. I’m cold, yet a fine sheen of perspiration coats my skin. If we stop, they’ll capture and kill us. “This can’t be.” I am vaguely aware of June and Riley’s cries, of the sudden commotion within the walls of the camper.

A warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” Sully’s voice transcends the weird muffled quality my hearing has assumed. “We’re not stopping. They’re not getting us.” He squeezes my arm gently before releasing it. He grips the steering wheel with both hands and stomps down on the accelerator. “Everyone in your seats and buckle your seat belt!”

“It’s the strap sticking out of the lower cushion. Click the metal end into the plastic end and hold on tight. Go, now!” His voice is raised, but he is patient with June, a feat I’m both amazed by and grateful for.

I buckle myself in and feel as if I am now connected to the seat in which I sit. “Is this going to work?”

“All the way to the left I might have enough room between the guardrail and the front of that car.” He points to a narrow space a car wouldn’t likely fit through, much less a house on wheels as he’s driving.

Awareness that we may not die at the hands of the Urthmen, but in a fiery crash, instead, leaves me dizzy and nauseated. June is all I can think of. She is in back, scared and needing me, and I am tethered to the passenger seat watching a potentially horrific scene unfold as I brace for impact.

Bowling toward them at full speed, the engine of the camper roars in time with the blood thundering in my ears. Urthmen scatter, their hideous faces screwed up in panic and confusion as they realize we aren’t stopping. They dive and dodge for cover, tight mouths wide as orders and shouts are issued.

The camper makes a sharp left, swerving headlong in the direction of the narrow space. But the closer we get, the clearer it becomes our vehicle won’t fit between the car and the guardrail.

Too wide to make it through the space, the bumper of the camper plows into the front end of the car. A terrible clash of steel and shattering glass explodes all around us. Metal shrieks and angry sparks spray as the impact sends us careening to the right.

The landscape beyond the guardrail rushes at us faster than my mind can comprehend. The needled boughs of an immense pine tree loom just a few hundred feet ahead. We’re about to crash into the barrier and have a head-on collision with the trunk of the tree.

Without a second to spare, Sully jerks the steering wheel to the left, barely avoiding a direct clash with the pine. Braking tires scream. The camper loses control, banking hard to one side until it feels as if we’re driving on only the two wheels on one side. Wrenching the steering wheel from one side to the next, Sully fights to straighten the camper. A loud crash resounds and suddenly, the vehicle no longer tilts. We are on four wheels once again. The camper straightens out. Sully’s back in control. The Urthmen barricade is behind us.

“Yeah!” Sully drawls. “We did it! Those idiots can’t even block a road right!”

My heart is still racing, but warmth is slowly returning to my body. I take a deep breath to stretch lungs tightened by sheer panic. “Whoa,” I say as I release a trembling breath. “We’re okay. I can’t believe we’re okay.” I turn in my seat to look at the faces behind me, at June and Will, Riley, Oliver, and Jericho. “We made it!” I exclaim.

They exchange cautious glances at first, smiling nervously. But before long, cheers erupt. I find myself swept up in the excitement, clapping and celebrating too. In the back of my mind, however, questions niggle at my brain. Two, in particular, roll through my head like a ball of barbed wire. Is this the only trouble we can expect, or do more roadblocks await us? How did the Urthmen know we were coming? I can’t imagine going through what we just went through again.

Uncertainty sends ice through my veins and encircles my heart in a frosty embrace. Our trip, much like our future, is unclear, and far more dangerous than I imagined.

Moods soar and the energy level of our group is remarkably high as we continue down the road. Cheers linger and pepper conversations.

“Yeah, really,” Will agrees and pats Sully on the back. “I can’t believe we made it through that.”

I’m shocked by the gesture and expect Sully to be as well, but his face is stoic.

“Did you see the looks on their faces as we came barreling down on them,” Oliver says of the Urthmen. “Never thought I’d live to see their little, pebble-like eyes get so big!”

Jericho’s deep, velvety voice chimes in, “I loved seeing them dive for cover like the cowards they are!”

“What’s wrong?” Sully snaps at Jericho uncharacteristically. “You guys don’t see what’s wrong?”

As soon as the words leave his lips I know what’s upsetting him. It’s the same thing that upset me moments earlier. “They knew we were coming,” I say.

“It was a trap,” Sully agrees. “The roadblock back there, they were waiting for us.”

A short pause passes. My mind works futilely to answer his question, to think of some link between when we left and when we arrived at the barricade, how they would have found us.

“I have no idea,” Sully answers and interrupts my pointless thoughts. “They must have working radio communications, but how they ever managed to figure out we were on the road is beyond me.”

Silence befalls our group as collectively, we try to connect the dots. The situation doesn’t sit right. A whispered warning races over my skin.

“We need to go back.” The words rush from my mouth before I can even consider the reactions they will draw.

“We don’t have a choice, if we are being followed we have to find out now, before it’s too late,” I say.

“And if they are following us and are not too far behind, we’ll drive right into them. We’ll be dead for sure,” Sully says flatly.

Sully smiles smugly. “See, even June bug doesn’t approve.” My features pinch to a point as I glare at him. “What?” he asks innocently. “Don’t give me dirty looks. No one thinks we should go.”

Sully cranes his neck to look at me, his eyes leaving the road momentarily. “What? No way! There’s no way you’re taking my motorcycle!”

“It’s our best chance. Think about it. How much faster is that bike than this camper?”

“Much faster. This thing only goes about fifty miles per hour.” He gestures to the panel in front of him that has a series of numbers with needles affixed at their center. “The bike could double the speed of the camper.”

“So I could easily cover ground and catch up with you after I go back and look?”

He catches himself and realizes he’s arguing my point. “Hold on a sec, no. You don’t even know how to ride! The answer is no.”

“Sully, I have to do this! If we’re being followed—and I think we are—we need to know so we can do something about it! So we can get off this highway and find a different road.” I rest my hands in my lap and roll my shoulders back. I force myself to speak calmly. “I want to get to the underground city. I want these kids to be safe, for all of us to be safe. In order to do that, we can’t have bands of Urthmen following us, or setting traps for us at every turn.”

Will rubs his chin, contemplating what I’ve said, and Sully’s brows gather. Jericho looks pensive, and Oliver and the girls look worried. I regret making them feel as I have, but I’d rather they feel as they do now than die at the hands of Urthmen.

“I’ll go,” Will stuns me by saying. “I’ll ride and you can come with me if you want to.”

“The kids will be safe with Sully, and Jericho. The only way you’re going is if I go with you.”

Will’s assertiveness is unexpected, refreshing even. I can’t help but feel drawn to it. It wins me over immediately.

“Fine, Will and I will go back together, and as soon as we find out what is going on, we’ll catch up with you guys. We’re not going to take any chances; if we see anything dangerous we’ll turn the bike around and come back.”

Sully blows out a loud breath. “I’m too tired to fight. You guys want to ride off like maniacs, be my guest.” His words are indifferent, but the concern in his features betrays him. “I’ll pull over and unload the bike.”

“I don’t like this. Not one bit.” Jericho’s voice is a haunting wisp that traces the back of my neck and raises the fine hairs there.

I turn gentle eyes on him. “We have to find out what we’re up against. Does anyone have a better idea, a suggestion even?” I ask without sarcasm. No one answers. The answer to my question is revealed. “We’ll be safe, Jericho I promise.” Then to June and Riley, I say, “I promise we’ll be careful, that if we even catch the faintest whiff of danger we’ll turn around and come back.”

June lowers her eyes and refuses to meet my gaze. Riley smiles feebly, her expression fragile and fleeting.

Will’s lips form a hard line, the gravity of his brother’s words hitting him. I know the feeling all too well. I just experienced it myself, though silently. Where loved ones are concerned, I’ve learned a look can pierce deeper than the sharpest dagger, and words are even deadlier. “You know that’s not how things are,” Will says in a weak voice. Oliver huffs quietly, feigning interest in a piece of peeling rubber near the corner of the seat he leans against.

“All right, I’m pulling over.” Sully’s voice refocuses everyone’s attention.

As soon as we stop, he stands and stretches before stepping away from the driver’s seat. I want to shout at him to hurry up, that we don’t have time to waste working out the kinks in our backs and shoulders. Eventually, he makes his way to the rear of the camper where the motorcycle waits. With Jericho’s help, he lowers it to the paved ground below.

The sun is high overhead, the light glaring so that I must squint. A crisp breeze shakes the treetops on either side of the road as it hisses and sends colorful leaves twirling to the earth.

“Here she is.” Sully regards the machine lovingly, referring to it as a female entity. “Climb on and I’ll explain how she works.”

“I know how it works. My family stayed with a guy once. He had one just like it. It was all he ever talked about.” Will’s voice is distant as he looks at the motorcycle. “He never took it out, of course. No fuel, you know. But he talked about one day getting his hands on some, about taking it out on the road and leaving.”

Sully’s eyes widen briefly, disinterest etching his features. “Well, that’s a lovely story, but, no offense, it doesn’t mean you know the first thing about how this bike works.”

Will’s lips tighten over his teeth, and for a minute, I fear he’ll haul off and slug Sully. Part of me wouldn’t blame him if he did.

I’m impressed when he climbs on the motorcycle instead, his ego set aside. The heavy bike wobbles under him, threatening to knock sideways. Will grabs the handle again, trying to hold it upright.

“It will when you’re moving. Just remember, the brakes are on the right, the lever over the throttle,” Sully says.

“I got it,” Will snaps. Frustration and a hint of uncertainty color his features. “They’re also behind my right foot.”

“No, don’t use those. Those are the rear brakes. You don’t want to use those. Trust me.”

“The difference is you haven’t been riding long enough—no, correction—you’ve never ridden, and rear brakes are for experienced riders.”

Will’s head whips toward Sully. “Where do you get off talking about experienced riders? You’ve never ridden! The fact that I’m sitting on this thing right now means I have more than you do if you think about it.”

Sully’s hands are balled into fists and planted on his hips. He inhales to retort, but I speak first. “Okay, enough with the bickering,” I say with far more authority than I feel. “The longer we sit here squabbling over which brakes to use and who has more experience the better chance Urthmen have of possibly catching up with us.”

Both men lower their heads. Jericho chuckles softly from the doorway of the camper he leans against.

“You’re right, Avery,” Sully says. “I just want to make sure you’re as safe as possible out there with him.” He shoots a look at Will. Then he adds, “Not that I think safety is even a remote possibility back where you two are headed.”

“We’ve been over this already. What other choice do we have?” I splay my arms out at my sides then let them drop to my thighs with a slap, not hiding my annoyance. I don’t wait for him or Will to answer. “None, that’s what other choice we have. If we’re being followed, we need to know so we can get off this road and find another way.”

Sully and Will are quiet. They know I’m right, despite whatever snide comments they make.

“We have to go. Now get this thing started. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here. The last thing I want is to traipse around after sunset.”

Will leans back, then slams his foot down on the pedal. There is a brief ripping noise and the bike rocks from the force of his thrust. The engine whines as it idles.

I’ve lived through unimaginable ordeals, faced monstrous beasts and almost lost my life more than once, yet the thought of straddling the bike makes me want to run.

“What’re you waiting for?” Sully leans in and asks, his lips so close to my ear they brush the outer shell as he goads me.

Pressing my lips together tightly, I turn to face him. Our noses skim one another. I back away, putting some much-needed space between us as I step toward Will and the bike. “Nothing,” I say defiantly. “I’m going now.”

Sully latches onto my wrist, his gaze boring into me. Eyes that danced with amusement turn serious, molten as the burn into mine with intensity so earnest I find it hard to breathe. “Be careful, okay?”

“For June, and the kids. For me.” His grip on my wrist tightens before he releases me.

I turn from him. On legs that suddenly feel shaky, I march over and toss one over the motorcycle then I slip my arms around Will’s waist.

Sully shakes his head. He grins, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “See ya, beautiful,” he says. He clamps his lips shut, the small muscles around his jaw flexing.

Will twists the throttle and the bike snarls, rumbling like an angry beast beneath me.

“Hold on tight!” Will yells just before the bike bucks, lurching forward. He tests the brakes and we stop abruptly, my head slamming into his back.

“Fine, just banged my head into your shoulder!” I reply as if he didn’t know.

He tests the engine again and then slows to a stop more smoothly. He repeats these steps several more times before nudging the gear shift with his left foot and releasing the clutch in tiny increments. The gear catches and we fly away from the camper.

Chilly wind howls through my hair, pulling it with such force it feels as if it’s being tugged by an unseen person behind me. I strain to keep my eyes open. The rush of air, debris and bugs makes them feel gritty. I lower my head and rest my cheek against Will’s back. I hear the thunderous drumming of his heart, feel the warmth of his heated flesh beneath his T-shirt.

I peek and stare beyond Will’s sturdy body. The long stretch of road, bordered by dense woodlands on either side, looms dauntingly as we race back toward the roadblock. Well before we see it, however, we pull off the highway. Will slows and guides the bike toward the shoulder of the highway. Cautiously, he moves us through a gap in the thicket so that we are in the forest, skirting the road. We move parallel to it until he cuts the engine. The bike teeters for a second, but he places both legs on the ground, balancing it. He turns so that I see his profile.

“We need to go the rest of the way on foot,” he says. “We’re too close. They’ll hear the engine otherwise.”

I nod in agreement then release the grip I have around his tight waist. Sliding off the bike, I follow him as he makes his way closer to the pileup. Before long, the heap of rusted metal comes into view. Once we’re close enough to clearly see the Urthmen, we stop.

Peering through the bushes, I see several Urthmen scurrying like rodents as they scamper to and fro. They stare off in the distance, further down the road. I follow their line of vision and see what they see. Five pickup trucks approach quickly. When the vehicles stop, the doors of the first swing open. A being steps out, and I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Is that The General?” Will whispers just before the human-turned-Urthman-lord begins a tirade.

“You incompetent moron!” The General shouts, spittle spraying in the Urthman’s face.

“Incompa-what?” the Urthman tips his head to one side and asks, his demeanor so sincere it borders on pathetic.

The General twists his upper body away from his subordinate, his upper lip snarled over his teeth. The Urthman’s shoulders slump forward in resignation. He never sees the sword as it is pulled from the sheath at The General’s hip. The blade catches the bright sunlight, casting a glare my way so that I must raise my hand to my brow. The act is quick, yet The General is quicker. The Urthman’s head tumbles to the pavement followed by his body.

“I will not tolerate failure!” The General screams at the remaining onlookers. “Your mission was easy: block the road. That’s it. But you couldn’t even do that!”

I wait, ready to cover my eyes again should The General heft his blade again, expecting the Urthman who spoke to lose his head next. Shockingly, he returns his sword to its cover, another point of interest capturing his attention. He makes his way past the groveling being and walks past the roadblock. He stares at the road, and immediately, what caught his eye becomes clear. Tire tracks, as plain as the nose on my face, carve a path through thick, sooty grime that coats the road, our tire tracks.

“Oh no,” I breathe. “Oh my gosh, the tracks. He sees our tracks in the film.”

Will follows my line of vision until his eyes rest on the marks. “We’ve got to get out of here now,” he says and echoes my thoughts.

Gripping my hand, he pulls me and we retrace our steps through the woods and run toward the motorcycle. Will jumps on then I climb on behind him. Circling my arms around his waist, I interlace my fingers. He starts the bike and the engine growls to life. Dirt and small rocks kick up behind us as we tear out of the wooded area and back onto the highway.

Once we are a safe distance from the Urthmen, from The General, I free one hand and slip my binoculars from my pants pocket. I chance a look over my shoulder, causing the front end of the motorcycle to jerk. The Urthmen are climbing into their cars and trucks. They’re mobilizing.

Still, the bike surges forward, speeding faster than I ever dreamed possible. The world rushes at me in a blur of green, gold and blue. Unprotected by safety belts, doors or metal, a bolt of fear races down my spine. I replace my lenses to my pocket and return my arms to Will’s waist.

Sensing my fear, he presses a hand to mine. The small gesture sends a rush of warmth up my arm and across my chest, filling it with an odd sense of safety, of belonging. He is unlike I’ve ever seen him: confident, decisive, and in control. I am drawn to all three characteristics. They spark a feeling in me I’ve never experienced. I want to hold onto it, to savor it for as long as I can. The cool breeze roaring through me, the infinite sky unfurling before me like a never-ending periwinkle canvas, and Will’s warm back flush against my chest. Despite the horror behind us, the moment is exhilarating, perfect. I only hope we get to the camper and are able to figure out a way to lose the Urthmen before they kill us all. I want another moment like this. I want a chance at true happiness.

The whine of the motorcycle is an incessant drone I’m only vaguely aware of. Leaning forward with my ear pressed between Will’s shoulder blades, the beat of his heart drowns out the whirr of both the bike and the wind. I know I must force myself to look up, to face what lies ahead. My brain orders my body to react, but another part of me resists. Warmth and safety, as I experience it now, is rare, so rare I can’t recall the last time I felt as I do. Reluctantly, though, I lessen my grip and lift my head.

The airstream is powerful and cold in comparison to the heat of Will’s body as it lashes my face. I blink several times against the current as I try to look to the road ahead. I have no idea how Will is withstanding it. He continues to impress me. I squint and force myself to look over his shoulder. My eyes sting and tear, but I see the road, and in the distance, I can make out the rear end of the camper. Clearly, he sees it too. He twists the throttle, pushing the engine harder. We dash forward. The air rushing at me feels like the pricks of innumerable needles and becomes painful. June is in that camper so I do not dare take my eyes off it.

Small red lights glow, and the camper slows. “They see us!” Will shouts. “They’re stopping!”

When I see the vehicle come to a complete stop, a sick knot forms in my gut. The Urthmen are not far behind us. I wish Sully would’ve held off until we were upon them. Waiting wastes precious time we do not have.

We pull up alongside the camper and Will cuts the engine. I leap from the back. He slides off, too, abandoning the bike. The driver’s side door opens. Sully’s head pops out. “Hey you two. How was your ride?” he asks. His tone, while playful, is a bit bitter.

“Get back inside!” I snap. The soles of my shoes slap the pavement as I race to door.

His heads whips back as if he’s been struck, his gaze wide and searching. “Jeez, relax,” he mutters as he drops back into the driver’s seat.

He doesn’t bother pressing me further. He senses the urgency, the threat looming. Shoving the gearshift into “drive” and depressing the accelerator, he does as I say. The camper begins moving, begrudgingly picking up speed. I clutch the headrest of the seat nearest to keep from stumbling at the sudden movement.

“What’s wrong, Avery? Is everything okay?” June appears at my side. Her pale brows gather, a deep frown creasing her face.

“Are we in danger?” Oliver asks in a panicked tone. He is behind June, his sister at his side.

Riley’s twists her hands tightly. Her eyes are wide, questions lingering beyond them.

Inhaling deeply, I decide not to mince words or lie. “They’re coming. The General and carloads of Urthmen are tailing us.”

I watch as the children’s faces collapse, their hope for a better life falling along with their features. Before I can say anything to console them, another voice fills the camper.

“The roads are filthy. Hardy anyone travels them. We’re leaving behind tracks in the inch-thick filth. That’s how,” I answer.

Hearing us, Sully stomps his foot down on the gas pedal. I expect the camper to lurch forward. When it doesn’t, my heart lodges in my throat. The vehicle is being pushed to its limits, but it isn’t moving fast at all, especially not when compared to the motorcycle.

“Come on,” I say through my teeth, as if my words can will the vehicle to speed up.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Will asks so loudly his voice borders on shouting.

“My foot’s to the floor! There’s nothing more I can do,” Sully matches his tone and replies. “It’s a house on wheels, not exactly designed for speed.”

Diffusing the heated exchange with his smooth, deep voice, Jericho asks, “How far behind are they?”

I look at Will. “Uh, I don’t know if they left right after we did,” I say.

“I’d guess they did,” Will offers. “And if that’s the case, they could be on us any minute.”

June and Riley jump at his outburst, and Riley slips her hand into June’s. I look from them to the back window of the camper, expecting to see the grill of a vehicle, or worse, The General’s face framed by a windshield. I see neither but am far from relieved. They’re coming. It’s only a matter of time before they reach us.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” June whispers so softly, for a moment I wonder whether I imagined her words.

When Riley sniffles and answers, “Me neither,” I realize I did not imagine it.

The girls are huddled; their bodies so close tendrils of Junes hair coil around Riley’s. I wish there were something I could say, magic words that would ease their worries. The sad fact is there’s nothing I can say, and little I can do. We are out on the open road. What little safety and shelter the forest once offered us is a memory now, gone. And I’m fast learning I can’t protect her as easily as I thought I could. My throat clenches around the lump that’s formed there, the realization that I am failing her strangling me.

“I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe,” I say to both of them. My voice is a hoarse whisper. My chest is tight.

“I know you will.” June looks up at me, her light-blue eyes shining. “You always have.” She holds my gaze for several seconds. Belief gleams in their depths and radiates from her. Her faith sustains my waning confidence and reinforces my resolve. I vow in that moment that we will get to the underground city, that she will be safe and have a chance at leading a meaningful life, even if it means sacrificing myself to get her there.

I force a smile then return my attention to terror-filled alarm all around me, the motion of the camper as it continues, moving as fast as it possibly can. My eyes scan the faces of those around me. The girls alternate between looking over their shoulders out the rear window and talking nervously while Jericho tries to calm Oliver with stories of escaping Urthmen. When I get to Will, I am met with his gaze. Startling irises in the palest shade of turquoise watch me intensely, as if trying desperately to convey a wordless message. His message, whatever it is, is lost when Sully’s voice rises above the clamor of conversations.

“What is it?” I ask, terrified to allow even the slightest thread of hope inside me.

“We’re about to cross the Vernin Bridge.” He points to the shoulder of the road where a green rectangle flashes by in a blur. The words scrawled on it elude me.

Will and I exchange glances. Jericho lowers his chin to his chest, his expression pensive as he begins stroking his chin.

“Blow the bridge.” I mull over each word. If the Urthmen are following us, then taking out the bridge is a genius idea.

My eyes follow his finger, and my breath catches in my chest, my heart picking up in tempo. I’ve never seen a bridge, not like this one, at least. Vertical steel beams rise impossibly from churning waters, protruding with ominous majesty. From them, thinner, draping lengths of steel hang and meet with horizontal metal supports that surround the roadway. The sight before me, the entire construct, defies logic. The pavement stretches on but the land around it disappears, dropping away suddenly and replaced, instead, with rushing water.

My sprinting heart plunges to my feet. My lungs feel too tight. I try to inhale deeply, but all I manage to do is draw in short, shallow pants. Every ounce of heat has seeped from me. I am cold. We are about to enter the section of roadway supported by a structure that looks like a spindly, metal monster that could easily be swept away on the turbulent current from which it arises.

“Oh my gosh,” I whisper to no one. Mopping the sheen of sweat that has gathered on my brow, I turn to make sure my words didn’t reach anyone’s ears. But as I look up, I see Will. His eyes are fixed on me.

Blowing out a thin stream of air, I hesitate. Then in a low voice, I admit, “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.” I point a shaky finger at the bridge. “I don’t know how it doesn’t collapse on its own, much less how it’s going to hold the weight of this camper.”

“It’ll hold us,” Sully assures me. I realize I didn’t speak as quietly as I’d hoped. I didn’t want everyone to know I am panicking about the bridge almost as much as the Urthmen on our tail. “But not for long,” he adds with a wry smile. “Jericho, get all the explosives we have.”

“You got it, Sully,” Jericho agrees and sets about retrieving a duffle bag from beneath a seat cushion in the back of the camper. He handles it gingerly. I’m almost happy it was stowed without me noticing. I would have fretted about having volatile substances an arm’s reach from June. He unzips the bag and starts unloading small plastic devices. My eyes flicker between Jericho’s nimble hands, and the disconcerting scene on the horizon.

When I look through the windshield, words, thoughts, explosives, even Urthmen—all of it—escapes me. Ocean meets sky, melding into a cerulean panorama, interrupted only by the white crests of waves, and the leviathan rising from the water.

“Oh my gosh,” I breathe again. I want to look away from the seemingly infinite length of metal, from the choppy tide, but try as I may, I can’t.

A warm hand is placed on my back. “It’ll be okay, Avery.” Will’s breath feathers across the shell of my ear and down my neck as he leans in and whispers.

He leaves his hand placed on the small of my back until we reach the midpoint of the span and the camper slows to a stop.

“Okay people,” Sully jumps from the driver’s seat. “Everyone grab a couple of bombs and place them along the stretch of bridge.”

“You want us to get out?” I swallow hard. “And walk on the bridge?” I make no mention of the fact that we’ll be carrying explosives. The notion of walking, out in the open, on an expanse of asphalt perched precariously on slim girders built from angry waters, is more that my brain can process.

“Yup, that’s exactly what I want you to do. You lay them down. I’ll set them to remote detonate, and bam!” He claps his hands together. “We’re in business.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you,” Will whispers in my ear and assures me.

Ripples of panic undulate through my body. For a moment, I fear my legs will give way from beneath me. “Thanks,” I say then look to my sister. She is why I will do what needs to be done. She’s why I’ve always pushed myself beyond what I’m comfortable with and faced nightmarish fears. Lurkers, angry boarts, monstrous spider creatures and Urthmen, I’ve confronted them all, and will continue to, for June. Reminding me of what I’ve been through steels my nerve. I walk to the open duffle bag and pull a stack of rectangular devices from it then follow Jericho as he steps off the camper, his arms loaded.

An icy squall of air lashes my body and makes my hair and clothes flutter. Lowering my head, I stay behind Jericho. Will is at my side and the kids trail. We jog to the farthest points of the bridge from where the camper is parked. All the while, I avert my eyes from the ledge of the structure, from the gaping chasms between steel beams that drop to roiling waters below.

As we space the explosive at regular intervals. Sully races to each, synchronizing their frequency with that of the remote detonator onboard the camper.

Positioning one dangerously close to the edge of the bridge, I look up and over my shoulder. The sight on the roadway staggers me. Vehicles are headed our way. “They’re coming!” I scream, the wind howling and competing with my voice. “Sully! Jericho!” I strain over the unending gale. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

“We’re not finished and I haven’t synched all of them yet!” Sully shouts. Will, Jericho and I still have devices to place. I glance at my load then dash, dropping them as quickly as I can.

Oliver follows my order and takes June and Riley by the hand and runs back. Sully and Jericho rush to finish the task of coordinating the bomb frequencies. I chance a glimpse at the road again. Several trucks and cars are speeding toward us. They’re almost upon us.

Jericho, Sully, Will and I sprint to the camper. Sully slides behind the steering wheel and slams the gearshift into drive. He stomps on the accelerator and the giant camper unwillingly rumbles forward. Jericho sits beside him in the passenger seat, his thumb poised over the button that activates the bombs.

“Just hold on,” Sully tells him as he pushes the camper’s engine to its limits.

My heart thrashes my ribs then rockets to my throat when I look out the back window and see that the Urthmen are almost on us. They’ve just about reached the section of the bridge we rigged with explosives.

Jericho’s thumb depresses the button, and for a moment, silence so thick a pin could be heard dropping blankets the interior of the camper. I worry the bombs failed to ignite.

But within seconds, my worry is dispelled. A sharp, bass-filled bang shakes the entire vehicle, the roadway beneath us. Pressure builds against my eardrums and I nearly topple over, clinging to Will as I tip sideways. Righting myself, I peer out the rear window. A brilliant glow of orange blazes against an azure backdrop. Rocks shower like rainfall. The bridge rocks and buckles. Vehicles flip while others pitch over the edge of the bridge. Steel and concrete rumble then yield, a crater blasted where asphalt once stretched. A truck brakes; its front wheels teetering for several seconds above the steep drop, before falling away, plunging to the churning water below.

Thick, charcoal smoke billows, rolling and filling the atmosphere. Urthmen that remain jump from their vehicles, while other less fortunate ones plummet to their deaths as their cars careen off the bridge. The scene is marked by chaos and confusion. A chilly, satisfied smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. But that smile falters when I see a towering, familiar form carve through the sooty vapors.

The General, outlined by fiery smoke, glowers in our direction. I feel the weight of his gaze against me. Scowling, he watches as we move further and further away, out of reach. Then, in a full rage, he turns and launches a fist through the passenger side window of his truck, screaming words I can’t hear but am certain are intended for us. He grabs the first Urthman dumb enough to approach him and throws him over the edge of the destroyed bridge. The General glares our way again, and a shiver runs up my spine.

“Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Sully shouts. He lowers the window and sticks out his hand, erecting his middle finger. Howling with laughter, he tosses his head back. A manic laugh erupts from me and I race to Sully’s seat. Shoving my hand outside beside his, I mirror his gesture. Will and Oliver do the same at the rear window and feverish amusement overwhelms us all.

My insides teem, overwrought by adrenaline, by the aftereffects of chemical reactions born of fleeing for one’s life under dire circumstances. My ears ring. I’m lightheaded. My pulse darts against the base of my neck in a fitful rhythm. Short of breath, I vacillate between elation and another darker, fearful emotion.

In the moments that follow the explosion, an avalanche of emotions inundate me, and I begin to wonder how much more of this I’ll be able to withstand.

Rain pelts the roof of the camper, the sound similar to a herd of boarts stampeding. But unlike a boart stampede, the torrential rain is noise we welcome. Water runoff on the roadway means our tracks are washed away. A full day has passed, and the rain hasn’t stopped. We’re grateful for every drop that’s fallen.

June and Riley are seated at the table, leaning in and listening as Oliver regales them with a story. Jericho is in the passenger seat and Sully drives. Will and I are alone, sitting in the U-shaped seat with the rear window at our backs. Our knees graze each time one of us speaks or moves even slightly.

“I still can’t believe what happened back there.” Will tosses his thumb over his shoulder. “It seems, I don’t know, like a dream.” His knee brushes my thigh as he shifts to face me, sending a strange tremor through my belly.

“I know,” I agree. In truth I’ve replayed the scene in my mind dozens of times in the last twenty-four hours. The explosion, while spectacular by every definition of the word, was not what left the more lasting impression in my brain. It was The General. His reaction, the way his eyes penetrated the distance, the smoke and fire. Haunting and hateful, I’ve never been regarded with such concentrated animosity. Lurkers and Urthmen murder blindly. They hate in a more instinctive manner, as if they are a heritable enemy of humans. The General was different. As a human, his motivation seems more personal. The way his eyes drilled through the ether felt personal.

“And did you see that guy, The General? Man, if looks could kill.” Will stretches his arms over his head then casually drapes one over the back of the seat cushion, his hand behind my head.

“Yeah, I saw him. How could I not?” I pluck at a piece of plastic string sticking up from the seam of the seat cushion. “He was shooting daggers at us with his eyes.” A nervous laugh passes my lips. There’s nothing funny about The General, or the way he looked at us. Being this close to Will makes me jumpy.

I shrug. “Probably. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who gives up.” I twist and look over my shoulder at the torrential rain. “The rain helps. Gets rid of the tracks and makes following us hard. And then there’s the bridge exploding.” I smile and turn back. I’m met with his eyes. Heat burns up my neck until it reaches my cheeks, and my stomach feels as if it’s filled with thousands of insects buzzing at once. How or why he has this effect on me remains a mystery.

He returns my smile. “Avery.” I love the way he says my name and want to close my eyes, to revel in the sound. My heart rate takes off at a gallop. Taking a lock of my hair and coiling it around his finger, he says, “I’ve wanted to talk to you, but there never seems to be a good time. Now that we’re alone, I thought, I don’t know, this was as good a time as any.” His aquamarine eyes are direct and sincere, yet at the same time, nervousness lurks in their depths.

My sprinting heart stumbles. I have a feeling I know what he wants to talk to me about: us. It’s a conversation I can’t have now, can’t wrap my mind around, not with Urthmen and The General hunting us. “Oh, uh, well, I have to go check on June,” I fumble with my words almost as clumsily as I do with my limbs as I stand and take a few steps toward the table. “We can talk another time.”

As I move to walk away, firm fingers latch onto my wrist. He stands, still holding on to my wrist. “Please don’t run away.”

“Run away? Who’s running away? I’m not running away.” My voice is shrill and about as believable as my lame excuse to check on June.

“Come on, Avery. Checking on June? You can see her from here, for crying out loud.”

Lowering my eyes to my feet, I say nothing. He’s right, of course, about all of it. I was running away. I’m terrified to discuss our feelings for each other, terrified that if I say the words aloud, that I care for him, I’ll lose him. “I guess I can see her from here,” I admit sheepishly.

He advances a step, his fingertips still upon my skin. I retreat several steps until I run out of room and my backside touches the side of the camper. Closing the distance between us, Will releases my wrist, but is close. “So stay with me.” His warm breath brushes across my forehead, stirring loose tendrils around my face.

He takes another small step toward me, his well-built form surrounding me as he places a hand against the camper wall behind me. I knew he was tall, I’ve stood beside him many times since we met. But somehow, in the small space of the camper, he seems larger. He stops in front of me, not even a foot away, so near his scent tempts me. I hate when he is this close. My thoughts become muddled, my flesh heated. I try to shift my gaze, to look past him, but his arresting features demand my attention.

Blue-green eyes, heated and intense, grip me, and an enigmatic expression plays upon his features. His short, dark hair is tousled, standing up on end on top in a way that makes him look almost boyish, but that’s the only part of him that looks childlike.

Growing increasingly nervous, anxiety threatens my sanity. I manage to tear my gaze from his face and rest them, instead, on his forearms. Ropes of tight muscle entwine, climbing to the swell of his biceps. His broad chest strains against his T shirt. I’m aware of every part of him, too aware.

He moves a hand from the wall and hooks his index finger under my chin, lifting it so that my eyes meet his. For a long moment, we look at each other, still so close his musky scent swirls around me, ocean, pine, so many notes fill me. I feel his heat; can see the gold flecks in his aquamarine eyes. Without warning, he leans his hard body into mine. He cups the sides of my face in his hands and presses his firm mouth to my lips.

Panic screams through my insides in a tingling rush of flutters. I do not respond at first, am not sure how to. I stand like an idiot with my hands at my sides, my entire body flushed, a stoic warrior battling not with my sword but with my will. This isn’t the time. This isn’t supposed to be happening.

For a second, I think about pulling away. I slide my hands between us, placing them against the hard planes of his chest. I attempt a feeble push, but the message my brain sends to my heart is intercepted by another sensation similar to fire swirling in my veins, by the warmth of his skin I feel through the thin material of his shirt. I know I should stop this now, yet his proximity, his lips on mine, though terrifying, are also exhilarating. It feels so right, so warm and wonderful.

Sighing, my lips part, and I succumb to the prickling sensation that makes my scalp shrink and goose bumps arise on my flesh.

The world around us disappears, the driving rain, the hum of the camper’s engine, the chatter, all of it fades. All that is left is Will and me. I am in a warm cocoon of bliss, heat diffusing through my chest as he pulls me close, enveloping me. My arms move, as if of their own volition, and slide around his neck, as my body sinks into his.

Our breath mingles. He tastes sweet. The air is stolen from my lungs, and suddenly I can’t remember how to breathe. His embrace tightens; an urgency sparking between us that rivals a brushfire. I tell myself to stop, to withdraw, but I can’t. I’m swept away on an all-encompassing tide of elation.

Despite the overwhelming joy and excitement I feel, a part of me, while small, recognizes that getting to the underground city is my focus, and should be his too. Complicating matters with what we’re doing jeopardizes that.

With all my strength, I pull away from him, bumping my head against the camper wall as I do. For a second, we stand, staring at each other, our breathing harsh as it competes with the rain hammering our vehicle.

I lift my hands and ward him off. “We can’t.” My lips say the words, acting on orders from my brain, but every other part of me protests.

Will’s brows snap together. His face grows taut, and his olive complexion glows a brilliant red. “I didn’t mean to—”

“We can’t,” I repeat. “We can’t do this. Not now. This can’t happen now.”

My words land like a slap to his face. An unreadable emotion flashes in his eyes and his stance stiffens. His shock and embarrassment turn to anger quickly, however.

He rakes a hand through his hair. “Oh I get it.” He laughs bitterly. “It all makes sense now.”

“Oh don’t pretend to be surprised. Nice try though. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed you.”

“So you’re not interested in Sully?” His words are more of an accusation that a question.

“No. I’m not, not at all,” I reply. My voice, inexplicably, is devoid of conviction.

He levels an unflinching gaze my way then released a loud breath. “Even you don’t believe what you’re saying,” he says then turns from me and stalks toward the front of the camper.

Cold is left in the wake of his absence. I wrap my arms around my waist and hold tightly. I hadn’t meant what I said, only not the part about Sully. It was the part about us not happening before we made it to New Washington. We had already happened. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d grown fond of his comforting presence, relied on it even. After sharing a kiss with him, I could also admit that his lips were addictive.

Refusing to let this be the way things were left between us, I march after Will and make my way to the front of the camper. He hovers behind Oliver who’s chatting companionably with June. I reach out a hand to tap his shoulder but retract is as if it were perched over fire the moment Sully says, “What the heck is that?” His tone is unlike I’ve ever heard it before. It sends dread tiptoeing down the length of my spine.

Through the pouring rain, I see a large sign on the side of the road. Letters, along with a large object, are on it. I squint to see both. The driving rain and lashing winds conspire against my effort. After practically pressing my face to the glass, I finally see that one word is crudely scrawled on a plank of wood. Painted in bright red, it reads “stray.”

“Stray?” The word perplexes me. I know it to mean lost or homeless and that it referred to animals once domesticated by humans. Every human on this Urthman-run planet is in some respect is a stray. It also means to wander off. I’m about to ask why a sign would say such a word when my gaze zeroes in on what is affixed to the sign. I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth and covering it. “Oh my gosh! Is that—” I start, but can’t form the words.

I’ve seen many things in my young life, many horrifying, nightmare-inducing, terrible things. They’ve all left an impression on me, an indelible scar on me, on my psyche. None will be forgotten. And few rival what is before me.

With arms splayed at his sides and ankles crossed over each other, a man, pale and nude, hangs from the wooden billboard. Rain batters his body, causing rivulets to run down the hollows of his form. Prominent ribs, knees and elbows protrude from bruised flesh, but that isn’t what chills the marrow in my bones. The scene grows evermore grisly with every detail I notice. Nails driven through his palms while his feet are bound with rope hold him in place, a macabre display carried out by a ghoulish Urthman.

“No, no, no,” I hear myself say, my voice distant and foreign to my own ears.

Will, Oliver and Jericho rush up behind me. They see what I see and draw in sharp breaths at the ghastly display. The camper, slowed to a crawl, stops. We stare in shock and repulsion.

I stare so hard that for a minute, I believe I see the brutalized man’s eyelids flutter. I shake my head to right my vision and look again. Only this time, I see it again. And I’m not alone.

“He’s alive!” Sully shouts. “The guy is alive!” He scrambles from his seat and kicks open the door. Bursting forward, he races out into the pouring rain to the sign.

“Hold on! It could be a trap!” I call out as I follow, but he doesn’t hear me. The drumming of rain as it pours all around us drowns out the sound of my voice.

“Hey buddy,” Sully calls to the man fastened to the sign. “Hey, you still with us?”

Up close, the scene is all the more grotesque. Malnourished and badly beaten, the man is frail. Blood, in shades that vary from bright crimson to a murky brownish-black, coats his palms and feet. His eyelids move as he strains to open his eyes. “Help me, please.” He says the words slowly, his voice barely audible. But a disturbance in my periphery rips my attention from him to a cluster of dense bushes beside the sign. Immediately, I tear my sword from the scabbard at my back. Clutching it between two hands, I nudge Will and Jericho. Jericho whistles to Sully, and he promptly joins us. They see the bush jiggle, the movement unnatural and not a result of the weather. Together, we move toward it, alert, armed and prepared to fight.

Before we make it there, however, a figure bursts from it. From the shape of her head and the size of her frame I instantly see she’s human, and female. Lengths of dark hair trail behind her like a banner as she rushes toward us. “Help him!” she cries. “Please!”

I lower my weapon, confusion and caution keeping me from returning it to its sheath. “Who are you? What’s he doing up there? Why was this done to him?” The questions fire from me in quick succession.

“I’m Sarah, and he’s my brother.” She points to the man on the sign. “We escaped and he was caught. I barely got away.” Through the driving rain, I see unshed tears fill her eyes. “And that’s what they do when they find stray humans.” Her voice quivers as she points again to her brother.

“Please just help me help him. I’ve been here since they did this to him yesterday. I can’t get him down. I tried, but I can’t.”

“Okay, Sarah, we’ll help you.” Will goes to her and soothes her. “Come with us.”

Sully looks at me oddly for a split-second, as if gauging my reaction, then joins Will as they usher Sarah to the sign. He climbs the board and positions himself next to Sarah’s brother. “I’m Sully. What’s your name, buddy?”

“Okay.” Tom’s head lolls, his chin resting against his chest, consciousness undoubtedly seeping from him.

“Come on, Tom, stay with me,” Sully says as he evaluates his hands that have nails driven through them. To us, he shakes his head somberly. “I can’t pull his hands free with the heads of the nails in place. They would cause too much damage.” And by damage, I assume he means tissue would tear and uncontrolled bleeding would ensue in both places. Sully drops to the ground and approaches us. He smiles sympathetically at Sarah, who stands close to Will, their bodies almost touching. A hot tendril of anger at their nearness sparks through my blood. I’m shocked by it, especially given the circumstances and what I’m witnessing. “Jericho, you think you can knock the sign down?” Sully’s gaze flashes from the mallet at Jericho’s hip to his face.

“Let’s give it a try.” Sully claps his hands together then rubs them. “Will, I need you to stand with me behind the sign so we can catch it before it slams to the ground.”

A whimper slips from Sarah’s lips. Will pats her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. We’ll get him down.” He speaks in a low, almost intimate tone. Involuntarily, I grind my molars as she turns to him and tips her chin, smiling weakly.

Will meets Sully on the rear side of the sign. Jericho removes his mallet from his belt and swings it in a wide arc. The head collides with the wooden platform of the billboard, sending splinters showering in every direction. The wood cracks then buckles, slanting back toward Sully and Will. They immediately grip the sides of the plank and try to guide it to the soggy grass below, but the weight of it causes it to land with a thud.

Tom groans loudly, the impact harder than we’d have liked. “Sorry Tom. Sorry about that,” Sully apologizes. Then he looks to Jericho. “Okay, that was great. Now we need you to break the wood by his hands.”

Jericho hefts his mallet and hammers a section of wood by Tom’s left hand. Shards explode all around them. He repeats the process with the other hand, and Tom screams both times. Sully pulls his hands free, but the nails remain.

“We have to get out of here. Taking down the sign and freeing his hands was loud. They’ll be coming.” Sully looks all around. Will and Jericho survey the surrounding land, as well.

“No way are we leaving you,” Sully replies right away. “You’re coming with us. Get in the camper.”

I glance at Sarah and she smiles warmly in Sully’s direction before heeding his instructions and heading toward the camper. I follow her, growing increasingly aggravated with every step, though the precise reason for my aggravation eludes me completely. Sully, Will and Jericho climb in, helping Tom and rushing him to the rear seats, to where Will and I sat before finding the billboard. Strangely, both our conversation and the kiss feel as if they occurred a lifetime ago.

Jericho takes the wheel and he disappears to the front of the camper. I feel the vehicle begin to move.

“This is going to hurt,” I hear Sully say. I turn from June and Riley, whose hands cover their mouths in horror, and look in time to see him pluck large intimidating nails from the man’s palms.

Tom screams. It’s an awful, bloodcurdling sound. Tears spring from June’s eyes and stream down her cheeks. “That poor man,” she sniffles.

Will races to the passenger seat. Under it is a duffle bag with medical supplies. He clips my shoulder as he passes and doesn’t turn to say he’s sorry. He does stop, however, to place a supportive hand on Sarah’s back and whisper words I cannot hear in her ear. She offers him a brave smile before he hands the bag to Sully.

“Tom, I’m going to clean your hands then wrap them tightly.” Tom nods, and Sully begins working. More screaming ensues followed by eerie silence.

“He’s fine, just passed out from the pain. But listen, if his hands are infected, this could get bad, really bad.” She looks at him pleadingly. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you. I can see you’ve been through a lot. But if they’re infected, he might not make it.”

Sarah begins to sob and collapses into Sully’s arms. Riley cries too, and June follows suit. Oliver hugs his sister and June falls into me. The camper seems to erupt in tears. Everyone is holding someone else, save for Jericho and Will. Jericho is driving, but Will is not. He’s standing nearby, but might as well be miles from me. I want to go to him, to embrace him and relive our earlier moment. A tiny part of me also feels like joining in the shedding of tears. Humans nailed to signs on the side of the road, treated like refuse, called strays. The gravity of it makes me feel physically ill. Finding Tom and Sarah and witnessing a glimpse of their plight coupled with the inkling deep in my bones that The General still hunts us makes me realize we can’t get to New Washington fast enough.

Sarah sits before me in the rear of the camper, the window at her back. The rain has stopped, for now, at least. Thick clouds break apart and shafts of buttery light pass through. Backlit by the sun, all of us are gathered around Sarah. Golden rays halo her and draw rich, mahogany highlights from her dark-brown hair. Though her locks hang in clumps around her face, she still possesses spellbinding beauty. And I am not alone in noticing.

Sully, Will, and Oliver flock to her, smiling at every word she speaks that even remotely warrants a smile.

She gazes at her lap then looks at us through long, dark lashes. Tears fill her eyes, bringing out the hint of gold in her pale-green irises. “My brother was caught. I couldn’t leave him there to die alone.” Teardrops slide down her bronze cheeks, and I notice how remarkably similar her complexion is to Will’s. She swallows hard. “I tried to get him down, but couldn’t.” Her lower lip quivers. “I couldn’t go off as a stray by myself.”

Stray. The word rolls across my skin like a burr, chafing me. “Sarah, you’re not a stray. None of us are. A stray is what homeless animals were called centuries ago, back when humans kept them as pets. Humans are not strays.”

Sarah bites her plump lower lip and frowns. In my periphery I see that Will’s brows are gathered, his expression mirroring her pain. My stomach clenches at the sight.

“To our leaders, we’re animals,” she says. Several fat teardrops drip from her eyes.

Unlike when June or I cry, her nose does not drip and her face does not contort unflatteringly. To the contrary, she looks lovely in her misery. The sick pit in my stomach continues to twist.

A pinch in my palm diverts my attention from my belly to my hand. Small crescents mar the soft flesh there. I realize I’ve been unconsciously balling my hand so tightly my fingernails bit into my palms.

Flattening my hands against my thighs, I breathe deeply before asking, “Why were they holding you and your brother prisoner?”

Blowing out a breath so that her mouth forms a small circle, Sarah’s shoulders hook forward. “It’s not just us.” She pauses then her eyes look among us. “Wait, you guys don’t know?”

Her use of the word “stray” again makes me bristle. My nostrils flare and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from responding sharply. She’s been through a lot. The least I can do is cut her a little slack. But it’s tough. “We’re not strays.” I nearly choke on the word. “And we’ve never escaped imprisonment.”

“Well, except for the arena,” Sully corrects me. “But that’s beside the point.” He waves his hand as if swatting a mosquito.

Sarah has been leaning forward, hanging on his every word. Her gaze filled with wonder. “You’ve never been on work detail?”

“No,” Will says. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles shyly, a smile I’ve seen before.

Sarah’s head tilts to one side, her eyes wide. She grins at him sweetly, infuriatingly. Her tone shifts; her voice pitching up so that she sounds almost childlike when she speaks to him, and only him. “We’re kept to work in the cities. We’re trained from a young age, younger than her,” she points to June, “to work. Some work on machines like cars, others cook, clean, and so on. Whatever we excel at is what we are ordered to do forever.” She brushes the hair off her shoulders and bats her eyelashes, still looking only at Will as she talks. “In the large cities, workers have even restored electricity. That’s why there are more and more automobiles being rebuilt. It’s us.” A note of pride touches her words. How she can feel pride at work she’s forced to do in enslavement is a mystery to me. But Will seems taken by it.

I feel my temper flare and am grateful when Sully erupts. “You and the other slaves were able to get the power on and build stuff Urthmen never could because they’re too stupid to learn to do anything!” He raises his voice and gestures with his hands in annoyance. A part of me wants to spring to my feet and clap for him. It’s as if he’s read and verbalized my thoughts exactly.

“No, that’s not it,” Sarah says. “They’re too important for manual labor.”

I jerk my head back and look to the faces of those around me; to be sure they heard what I just heard, that my ears aren’t deceiving me. Mouths hang agape. Brows that aren’t gathered in confusion are raised high in shock. Yes, they heard her. I didn’t imagine it.

“No,” I retort. My temper feels as taut as a bow ready to launch and arrow. “They’re stupid, lazy creatures who can’t do for themselves.” I barely manage to harness the frustration I feel at her ignorance and am proud that I managed to keep from yelling.

Losing the singsong voice she used for Will’s benefit, Sarah tips her chin, a hint of defiance seasoning her gesture. “No,” is all she says, her voice trembling as if she may start crying again.

“They’re smart enough to use humans as tools to get things done,” Will says unexpectedly. My head whips in his direction. He refuses to meet my eyes with his. I wonder whose side he’s on, and why there is more than one side suddenly. The questions burn like poison on the tip of my tongue.

Shaking my head slowly, my upper lip curls in disgust. “If they ever tried to keep me as a slave working for them, I’d make sure to kill as many of them as I could before they caught and killed me,” I say through my teeth.

Sarah tosses her head back and laughs aloud. The sound is grating. Heat snaps through my body, rising from my core until it reaches my cheeks.

“What’s so funny?” I hiss. My eyes are narrowed and my brow is low. Any sense of sympathy or camaraderie I felt is fast seeping from me.

Her laughter ends abruptly. Her gaze darts from Will to Sully, then to the children, ending finally with me. “I thought you were joking that you could kill an Urthman. You were joking weren’t you?”

“A human can’t kill an Urthman, especially a female human. Urthmen are way too powerful.” Again, she speaks with such authority, such certainty, it borders on arrogance.

I’m prepared to unleash on her in a verbal firestorm when laughter erupts again. Only this time, it’s Will, Sully, June, Riley and Oliver who laugh, not Sarah.

“You’ve got things all wrong,” June says to Sarah. “My sister has killed many, many Urthmen. In fact, I’d bet there isn’t an Urthman on this planet that could beat her.”

Sarah looks doubtful. “Come on.” She lowers her chin and angles her head to one side.

“It’s true.” I’m surprised to hear Will’s voice, especially when he supports what’s been said about me. “We’ve all killed Urthmen. Not all of us have killed as many as Avery,” he’s quick to qualify. “And we’ve all lived our entire lives free.”

Silence reigns for several seconds. Sarah’s lips are parted, her gaze distant as she tries to process what she’s heard. When finally a question comes to her, she asks, “How? How is that possible? And how did you get this vehicle?” She folds her arms across her chest and looks satisfied with herself, as if she’s about to expose some great truth.

“I rebuilt it,” Sully says with a wink. “I found it abandoned in the woods and repaired pretty much every working part of it.”

Sarah’s expression melts, transforming from haughty to coy in the blink of an eye. As if she’s just realized he is there and very pleasant to look at, she turns her upper body toward him. “Wow, that’s amazing,” she croons. She is behaving identically with Sully as she did with Will, and for reasons I don’t understand, I feel slightly annoyed, though not nearly as annoyed as with Will. “Where are you taking this vehicle you’ve repaired pretty much every working part of?”

Smiling and no doubt loving every second of the attention she pays to him, Sully says, “We’re going to New Washington, the underground city.”

“Underground city?” she pouts prettily. I wonder what I look like when I pout. I’m sure I don’t look like her. “What’s that?”

Sully leans back and scrubs his face with his hands. He lowers them and folds his arms over his chest, but doesn’t answer right away.

“It’s a place where thousands of humans live in peace,” Will replies for him.

Holding up a hand, Sully says, “Let’s not talk about it like it’s some idyllic paradise.”

Sarah looks to him then to Will. “This is a real place? You’re not joking?”

“I’ve never been there,” Will splays a hand at the center of his broad chest. “But he has.” He nods to Sully.

“And now you’re taking me and my brother with you to this place where humans live in peace, free?” Excitement bubbles from her.

“Oh my gosh!” Sarah covers her mouth with both hands and bounces. “I can’t believe it! It’s too wonderful to be true!”

Will, Sully and Oliver are so rapt, they don’t notice when Tom rouses. His head pokes up and he casts bleary eyes our way.

“Uh, guys, looks like Tom is waking.” I point to our new travel companion whose hands are bandaged and resemble oversized paws.

Sully stands. “I’d better get over there and check those wounds.” He lingers for a moment, reluctant to go, to leave Sarah. Will seems pleased he’s going, and I resist the growing urge to slap both of them.

Sully turns to go to the bench-like cushion atop which Tom rests, but unexpectedly, Sarah clasps his wrist. With large, tear-filled eyes, she looks at him and speaks; her voice just above a whisper. “Thank you for all that you’re doing for my brother, and for me.”

I want to gag. Sully blushes, a sight I’ve never seen, and Will looks as though he’s just tasted something sour. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.” He rakes a hand through his hair. As soon as she releases his forearm, he goes to Tom.

“How’s it going, buddy?” he says amicably as he sets about loosening the bandages and inspecting the wounds.

“Great, that’s great.” Sully examines his hands. “The bleeding’s almost stopped. That’s good news. You’re going to live, but you’re not going to have much use of your hands. Eating will be a chore.”

Resignation slumps his shoulders. He smiles tightly and nods in acceptance of the news. “At least I’m alive.” Tom attempts a smile.

“I’ll help you, brother,” Sarah says and closes the space between them, brushing past Sully so that their chests touch as she does. Fire sizzles through my veins. “And just wait until I tell you the wonderful news.”

“Wonderful news?” his gaze is searching as he looks among us. “What wonderful news?”

The world in which we live seldom if ever holds wonderful news of any kind. Given that he was nailed to a billboard on the side of the road and left to die, I gather that wonderful is a word he’s unfamiliar with.

She licks her lips and smiles. “We’re going to a place where humans live with each other and no Urthmen are there.”

“Packs of stray humans living together? Without anyone watching them?” He looks at her incredulously.

I have about as much as I can take. Packs? Strays? Is he serious? He refers to our species as I would boarts, or worse, Lurkers. “You two need to get it in your heads that humans aren’t strays, okay?” It’s an effort to keep my tone even, to stop myself from grabbing both of them by their shoulders and shaking them. “This was our planet once. Urthmen used to be humans hundreds of years ago, but chemical warfare warped them and made them into what they are now: hideous, unintelligent creatures that are only capable of hurting. We’re better than they are; smarter, better looking, better at everything. The only advantage they have is that they outnumber us.” My body trembles and my heart races. I’m more worked up than I’ve been in a while. Outwardly, I seem calm and in control. Inside, however, I’m a mess.

I look at Tom to gauge his reaction, to see if I’ve gotten through to him. Surely, I have.

“That’s not true,” Tom says with the same condescension, the same overconfidence with which his sister spoke earlier.

Feeling my frustration swell past a threshold at which I am capable of controlling it, I realize I need to walk away, fast. I shove my hands in my pockets and close my eyes, pressing my lips together. Sarah and Tom are not at fault. They believe the lies they were fed since birth. They don’t know any better. And from what I can tell, they’re not interested in swallowing anything new.

I open my eyes and excuse myself, making a beeline to the front of the camper. I slide into the passenger seat next to Jericho. He turns and looks at me. His fathomless, dark eyes are the night sky, glittering with profound wonders, and peace. He never has much to say, but when he does, his words are worth hearing. Right about now, I doubt I could handle hearing anymore nonsense. I’m full in that regard. I tell him as much, conveying my message with my gaze alone. I swear he receives it, for a mysterious expression flickers briefly before a small smile tilts the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t say a word. I am grateful for his silence, for the calm he exudes. I remain where I am as the road rolls out before us. All the while, my mind spins like the tires on the camper. If Sarah and Tom continue to spout nonsense and refuse to open their minds to the reality of our place in this world, I fear they will drive me to a dark and lonely place.

The sun is an eager ball of fire cresting the horizon. Deep orange pales to salmon and stretches, melding with breadths of lavender and periwinkle. The sky is bursting with colors, rich and vibrant as it contrasts the monochromatic earth below it.

Desert sand, interrupted only by tufts of dry growth that spring from barren-looking earth and rust-colored rock formations, extends indefinitely. Looking out the window, all that carves the beige landscape is the span of asphalt we travel upon.

Sitting beside Sully in the passenger seat with my head tilted away from him, I listen to the engine whir and the sound of the tires racing along. We are the only two awake at the moment. June, Will, Oliver, Riley, Sarah and Tom are asleep in back. Even Jericho is still sleeping.

“You okay?” Jumping slightly, Sully’s voice startles me. He hasn’t spoken in some time. I assumed he either didn’t want to or thought I fell asleep. Either way, I didn’t expect to hear him. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me, not really. I was just zoning out.” I turn to face him. His eyes are concentrating on the road ahead, though with the uneventfulness of the last ten days of our journey, his concentration seems almost unnecessary. The camper could probably drive itself along the flat, straight run. After finding Sarah and Tom, the rain stopped, and conditions remained consistently sunny and dry. Even the landscape has varied little. During the day, blue skies dominate overhead, and taupe governs the ground.

“Yeah, it’s easy to do that I guess.” He gestures to the windshield, to the sandy land beyond.

“It all looks the same. It almost feels like we haven’t moved.” I try to articulate how I feel, that after hours of seeing what looks like the exact same landscape rolling out before us, it feels as if we’re frozen in time.

“I know what you’re saying.” He nods and smiles. The rising sun highlights his profile. When he grins, the single dimple in his right cheek deepens. “I feel like the wheels on this thing are spinning but the world around us isn’t moving.”

He gets it. He gets exactly what’s inside my head. “Yes,” I agree. I don’t bother to hide the hint of enthusiasm I feel at learning he feels exactly as I do. “I thought it was just me, that I’m going crazy or something.”

He shakes his head. “Avery, you’re the last person I would worry about in that way. You’re about as levelheaded as a person can get.”

I’m unsure whether to take what he’s said as a compliment or an insult, especially after spending the last ten days with Sarah and Tom. Their inexperience and innocence is so pronounced it borders on naiveté. I fear I’m hardened by comparison. “Hmm,” is all I say.

“I meant that in a good way.” He leans my way and looks at me. I swear at times he reads my mind. “I know I can count on you, that you can fight and see crazy stuff and not fall apart.”

“You’re very welcome.” Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he rubs his forehead. “I’m starving. We’re out of food, aren’t we?”

Since I’ve met Sully, I’ve never heard him complain about hunger. This is a first. At his underground hideout, meals were regular. Will and I hunted. He had traps set up. And he had strange pouches of food that tasted dry and flavorless but were surprisingly filling. Those three sources meant we ate every day. When we loaded the camper in anticipation of our journey, we packed what we thought was plenty of dried meat, tubs of water we’d gathered from the river, and stacks of those food packets. We had what we thought was enough food to last us until we got to the underground city. We’d also thought we’d hunt along the way. We’d been wrong on both counts.

“Nothing but good news this morning, huh?” He rolls his eyes. “We used the last of the fuel last night, ate the last our food supply, and now our water is almost gone. Great.” His sarcasm is neither overly bitter nor aimed at me. “What’s next, another roadblock with Urthmen?”

“Don’t even joke like that.” I know we’d have a clear view of any barricade set up in the distance and plenty of time to turn around, but after going for so many days without the slightest hint of their foul presence, the thought of a run-in unsettles me more than ever. I strain my eyes to look as far ahead of us as possible.

“Are you seriously looking for one?” He catches me with my face practically pressed to the glass and my eyes squinted.

He laughs at my response. “Avery, even Urthmen can’t survive out here in the middle of nowhere. Look around.” He gestures with one hand in all directions. “There’s no place to live, no lakes or rivers, and there aren’t any animals, at least not any that I’ve seen. I guess now that we’re out of food, we’ll find out for sure.”

“I guess so,” I murmur under my breath. A small tremor of panic vibrates through my body. Life seems absent on the stretch of land we travel. Plants are scarce, and I haven’t seen a single animal. And forget about water. Water is nonexistent. All I see is sand, rocks and hostile-looking growth dotting the landscape.

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk here,” Sully says and keeps me from sinking into a downward spiral of panic-filled despair. “But adding Sarah and Tom really cut into our food supply.”

He’s right. And I doubt anyone else would take what he’s said as exactly what it is: the truth. But I do. Adding two adult mouths to feed to our group has changed how food is rationed. It’s the reason that there isn’t any left.

“No, not at all, in fact. I thought the same thing, but was too afraid to say it to anyone.”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you. You took the words right out of my mouth before I got a chance to say them.” I look over my shoulder and smile at him.

Sully beams as if he and I share a secret connection no one else knows about. In some ways, he’d be right if that were what was going through his mind.

I want to add, “And not because every time Sarah is around Will, I seem to disappear into the framework of the camper,” but don’t. In truth, my initial feelings about her have changed over the last week. She’s beautiful and garners attention. There’s nothing I can do about that. If Will prefers her to me, that’s his choice. It’d hurt me if that’s who he decided he wanted, but I’d have to accept it. My goal is to get June to New Washington, and that’s exactly what’s happening now.

“I don’t regret stopping and helping them, not one bit. Tom would’ve died.”

“I know. You don’t have to explain to me. You don’t have to justify the facts about the food. More people means the food is going to go faster. Period.”

“I’m glad they’re safe and will get a chance at an Urthman-free life, even if it means living under the thumb of the President of New Washington.”

He says the word “president” with obvious disdain. I want to ask why, but another question nags at the back of my brain. I know I must proceed cautiously, and that if phrased the wrong way, my question might come across as rude. “Um, Sully,” I start then clear my throat, stalling. “More than once, you’ve hinted that the President of New Washington is strict. If he’s as bad as you make him out to be, what makes you so sure he’ll let us in?”

Sully’s lips press together tightly. For a moment, I’m sure I’ve insulted him. He doesn’t look my way, and he doesn’t talk for several moments. I’m about to apologize and try to retract what I’ve said when he speaks. “President John Sullivan is practically a dictator. He calls himself a president and holds elections, but he always wins in a landslide even though I never knew anyone who voted for him.”

A wave of panic sweeps over me. Sully is supporting my worries, confirming my fears.

“What?” I gasp. Then it occurs to me that the President could have stepped down, died even. No matter the cause, he might not be in power any longer. “You haven’t been there in years, right?”

“Oh he’s in charge. Make no mistake about that. And he’ll let us in.” Sully speaks with such certainty, such confidence.

“What makes you so sure?” I ask, but before he has a chance to answer, the engine of the camper splutters and bucks.

“Oh no,” Sully mumbles as we decelerate. “Come on! No!” he says and hits the steering wheel. An odd knocking echoes from the front end of the camper. “Dammit! We’re coasting now!”

The camper rolls to a stop after a minute or so. Sully twists the key in the ignition and tries to restart it. The engine cranks and cranks but doesn’t turn over. “Dammit!” he shouts again and pounds both fists against the steering wheel. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” His nostrils flare and a crazed laugh I’ve never heard from him before passes through his lips.

Heavy footsteps rush up the aisle from the rear of the camper. “What happened?” Will asks as soon as he reaches the back of the driver’s seat.

“We’re out of gas! And food! And apparently the water’s almost gone, too!” Sully erupts uncharacteristically. He shakes his head before taking it in his hands and muttering swearwords.

I half-expect Sully to explode. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he’s still for several moments, his head still bowed, but only one hand rubs his forehead. “We have only one choice.” He looks up from Will’s face to mine. “We have to walk.”

Jericho, Oliver, June, Riley, Sarah, and Tom make their way toward Sully and me, and crowd around our seats. Jericho and Sully exchange a knowing look. June looks from Sully to Will to me. “What’s wrong?” she asks immediately. A small crease forms between her brows.

Standing, Sully looks among the faces present and says, “We are out of fuel. The camper won’t start.” A collective gasp echoes from the children, as well as Sarah and Tom.

“What does that mean?” Riley’s small voice trembles then cracks with emotion.

“We’re going to die,” Sarah says flatly, and I wish she hadn’t, because tears immediately follow.

Will shoots her a stern look as he pulls his sobbing sister into his arms. “We’re not going to die. She didn’t mean it.” He speaks to Riley in a soothing tone. Only I can hear the hint of uncertainty there.

I stand and envelop June in my arms. “We’re going to be fine,” I say into her hair. I try to sound convinced, but in truth, I’m not. Without food and with limited water, even without Urthmen, our survival will still be compromised. Looking over her head to Sully, I ask, “How far away are we?”

He scratches his chin and looks out into the vast desert. “I’m not exactly sure. It could be only ten miles. It could be a lot more. It all looks the same. But I’ll know when I see the Joshua tree that sits in front of the huge boulder.”

“Joshua tree? I’ve never hear of a Joshua tree. Is that a real thing?” I ask. My father knew the names of all the trees in the forest in which we lived. He never once mentioned a Joshua tree.

“It looks like a regular tree, but the branches are really thick. And instead of flat leaves, it has evergreen-like leaves.”

I feel my brows knit. It’s hard to imagine anything growing out here other than the small clumpy spines that intermittently emerge from the dry earth.

“Trust me, it’s there,” he assure me as if intuiting my doubt. “A big, orangey-red boulder kind of frames it.” He traces a large, oblong shape with his index fingers. “Once we get to it, we’ll be fine.”

“This is crazy!” Sarah throws her arms in the air as she speaks stridently. “My brother is too weak to walk!”

“Sarah, we’re out of options. If your brother wants to live, he’ll walk,” Sully says with calm that astounds me.

“Good, glad that’s settled.” Sully claps his hands together. “Grab your weapons boys and girls. We’re hiking to New Washington.”

Everyone scatters and retrieves his or her weapons. I slip the straps of my scabbard over my shoulders and sheathe my sword. The weight at my back is familiar, comforting almost. Once each of us has what we need, we file out of the camper.

Bright, unfiltered light greets me. I blink several times, and then attempt to squint. But the glare from the pale sand at my feet and the intense white light beating down from overhead prevents me from doing even that. I clamp my eyes shut, the brilliant red behind my lids a welcome reprieve, before I try again. My eyes adjust slowly. They tear profusely at first before gradually acclimating to the blindingly bright world around me.

My eyes are not the only part of me slow to grow accustomed to the desert environment. The sun sears not only my retinas but my skin as well. Feeling so overheated my skin feels two sizes too tight for my insides, my body feels as if it will spontaneously burst into flames at any given minute.

“It’s so hot,” June shields her eyes with one hand and looks to the sun overhead. “The forest was never like this.”

Without a canopy of trees to block it, direct sunlight burns from above. “There aren’t any trees to shield us from the sun,” I tell her. Her cheeks are pink already. I fear for her pale skin, for my pale skin. “I know,” I agree. “The sun is strong. You have to keep your skin covered in order to protect it. Roll down your sleeves and take the shirt you have tied around your waist and drape it over your head.”

“I’m serious. Just do it. I’m going to also.” I run back into the camper and grab the first shirt I see. I place it on my head and step outside once again. “See, I’m doing it too.” I show my sister that I’m following my own advice and she smiles.

“All right, let’s get moving. We don’t want to waste any time. The underground city is close. Let’s get there.” Sully rallies us then turns and begins walking in the sand and heading parallel to the roadway.

We walk for what feels like forever. Heat unlike any I’ve ever experienced singes every part of me. My lungs ache and my throat burns. My entire body throbs in time with my galloping heart. Dry heat feels as if it’s cooking me. My clothes, damp earlier, are dry now. Rumbling loudly, my stomach somersaults, hunger making known its demand for food. But there isn’t any food. And there’s very little water. The sight of a shimmering silver lake crawling across the landscape would make me weep with joy. So would the sight of a plump rabbit, or a squirrel. Heck, I’d take a rat at this point! But I know none of what I wish for is possible. The climate is inhospitable. Animals can’t survive, not without a source of food or water, which doesn’t bode well for us.

A quick glance at June concerns me. Her cheeks are a red so unhealthy they border on magenta. She pants, her breathing short and shallow. She catches me watching her and offers up a thin but determined smile. I smile back at her then, speeding my pace so that I am beside Sully, I ask, “Are we almost there?”

Sully continues a few steps then stops. His eyes go wide. He points. “There,” he gasps. “The landmark. It’s just past it.”

In the distance and to the west where the sun inches its way toward the horizon, a giant rock the color of rust rises from the ground. Before it, a tree trunk with thick limbs and spiny barbs at their tips nearly reaches the summit of the rock. It resembles a multi-tentacled beast. “The tree,” I sigh. “We’re here.”

“Not quite. Now we have to walk deeper into the desert, away from the road. And even once we get to the tree it’s a bit of a hike from it.”

Will looks at me sympathetically while Sully’s gaze is apologetic. None of this is anyone’s fault. We’re all in this together.

Behind me, a loud thud precedes a shrill cry. “Oh no! Tom!” Sarah’s voice pieces the eerie stillness of the desert. We all turn in the direction of her voice and find that Tom is face down in the sand. Sara scrambles to her knees and Sully and Will rush to help him up. “Are you all right?” Sarah drapes her arm over his shoulder and walks alongside him.

“It’ll be dark soon.” Sully points to the sinking sun. “As soon as the sun sets, it gets dark fast. Maybe we should rest a bit before we go any further.”

As much as I want to protest stopping to sleep when we’re so close, I can’t physically form the words. I’m simply too exhausted.

The children don’t need to be told a second time. They drop to the ground immediately. Oliver curls into a ball on his side. His olive skin looks sickly and pale. June and Riley do the same, using their backpacks as pillows.

“I guess this is as good a place as any,” Sully smiles at the children sadly. He kneels and sets his bag down then leans against it. Will helps Sarah with Tom, and then lowers himself to a sitting position. I sit down beside June. Everyone shift and fidgets. The skyline swallows the sun and the air has cooled significantly. The temperature is pleasant. I would be comfortable were it not for the relentless hunger and thirst plaguing me. And exhaustion.

Leaning back until my head touches sand, I allow my eyes to close, to rest for just a moment. Quickly, however, velvety darkness beckons me, tempting me with a relief, a reprieve from the never-ending sea of blanched and barren land. I succumb to it, waking only when the violent tremors besetting my body force my eyes open.

The sky above is an inky canvas speckled with more stars than I’ve ever seen in my life. The moon, round and fat, seems closer than usual. It cast stony light all around us. Cold has settled over the terrain. My mind struggles to comprehend how the daylight hours were so warm yet as soon as the sun plummeted, so too did the temperature. My eyes roam the group. June’s knees are tucked to her chest and her eyes are open. Her gaze locks on me. “I’m f-freezing,” she says.

“I’m awake and freezing also.” Sully’s head pops up. Then one by one, everyone rouses. “We need to move to keep warm,” Sully says. He stands and dusts the sand from his clothes.

The notion of walking makes me want to cry, but trying to sleep when I’m thirsty, hungry and shivering doesn’t sound much better. Reluctantly, everyone stands and begins walking.

We move slowly, creeping at the pace of those who’ve been battered so badly their legs creak with every step. In many ways, we are. We walk until the moon disappears, awakening the sun.

Ginger streaks alternate with rich mauve bands, deepening in color as they fuse with lilac and pastel blue. We pass the Joshua tree and the boulder, continuing until my legs feel as though they’ll give way beneath me. Sully is a dark silhouette against the rising sun. He stops moving abruptly. I nearly slam into Will’s back.

I look left then right. I see nothing but flat, open space. The sand is smooth and uninterrupted by bumps that would indicate a hatch below. “Uh, I don’t think so.”

Reflexively, I look to my feet, and for the first time since meeting Sully, I don’t believe him. Where we stand looks identical to the rest of the desert. “Okay, where?”

“Wait? Wait! Are you kidding me? And you never answered my question from earlier. If this underground city is beneath us, as you claim it is, and if President Sullivan is such a tough leader like you say he is then what makes you so sure he’ll let us in? How do we know we didn’t just come all the way out here for nothing?” Hunger, thirst, and exhaustion jumble my thoughts and spawn my temper. I am shaking internally and externally.

“This trip wasn’t a waste of time, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His gaze is unwavering and sincere as it is leveled my way. “And I’m sure he’ll let us in because I’m John Sullivan Jr. Sully’s my nickname. President Sullivan is my father.”

Sully turns from me, from all of us, and walks to an unremarkable rock nearby. Leaning over it, he gazes into it and raises his arms over his head.

“I don’t know—” I start but the words freeze in my throat. The ground beneath my feet rumbles several times.

“Avery, I’m scared!” June shrieks and races to my side. I push her behind me protectively as the earth shakes again. A low, rolling growl echoes and I look all around, half-expecting to see a rock avalanche under way. To the contrary, the rocks do not fall, they rise, still attached to pale silt, as the ground opens up and a large cube surfaces.

Sully turns from the box to us. “Welcome to New Washington.” A lopsided smirk tilts one side of his mouth. I plant my feet, June clinging to my back, and hope I don’t faint. The entrance to the underground city arose from nowhere. I should be thrilled. But a part of me worries that taking my sister here will be the worst mistake I have ever made.

Pitching backward, I stagger before finding my footing and unsheathing my sword. The large, metal box before me is unlike anything I have ever seen in my life, and for reasons I can’t explain, I don’t trust its presence. Tan and shiny, it looks as if it’s been polished to a high shine. It doesn’t look as if it’s tunneled through dirt and rock until reaching the surface. Warning shrieks through my core, echoing through the hollows of my being. I want to run, to order the others to run, but my legs feel as if they’ve taken root in the barren soil underfoot and my words are lodged behind the lump of dread clogging my throat. So I stay as I am, silently clutching my weapon so hard my nails bite into my palm, with June trembling behind me.

“Oh my gosh,” Will comments. His mouth is partly open and his eyes are wide, locked on the box. “This can’t be real. It’s impossible.”

I want to reply, want to agree with him wholeheartedly and add to it that we need to flee, but I’m speechless. My lips are parted on a silent gasp and I’m vaguely aware of the fact that I haven’t blinked in some time. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion, and cold have fallen by the wayside. All I can focus on is the container that’s erupted impossibly from the ground.

Without warning, an invisible seam at the center of the wall facing us parts. Doors open and reveal ten beings I assume are human. I cannot see them clearly as they are clad from head to toe in some kind of gear. Glossy and thick, it squeaks faintly when they advance.

I am, too. I take an instinctive step backward, one arm behind me and wrapped around June. “I don’t know. Just stay close.” My voice is raspy as I speak, and my eyes never leave the cluster of oddly dressed beings.

The closer they draw the better able I am to discern that they are, in fact, human. A clear, rectangular swath of material on their heads reveals facial features that resemble ours. Noses, eyes and mouths reside where they ought to and do not bear a resemblance to Urthmen. Despite their human appearance, they don’t look pleased to see us, not in the least.

Brows lowered, eyes narrowed and mouths pressed to hard lines are all I see. And weapons, deadly weapons I recognize as crossbows, are in their hands.

“Why are they armed? Sully, why are they armed?” I shout above the shuffle of booted feet rushing toward us.

In a blur of pale color that melds with the desert landscape, the beings that arose from the earth swarm, descending on us as if we’re the enemy. Chaos explodes all around us. “Drop your weapons!” one shouts. “Get down!” another screams. Orders are shouted from every direction and each positions himself close to one of us.

“What? What’s going on? We’re human,” Will exclaims as he lowers his weapon.

Will complies and is promptly detained with his arms behind his back. Metal cuffs keep them in place.

Visions of being captured by the Urthmen, and the arena, flash in my mind’s eye. Panic sets in. June. All I can think of is June. She’s still behind me, for now. But I know that in seconds she, too, will be handled roughly as Will has been. I’m not sure I’ll be able to witness that without swinging my sword, and doing that will undoubtedly lead to casualties in our group. Cringing at the thought of losing anyone, I continue to hold tight to my blade and try to breathe deeply. I must control the rage rising with in me. I need to stay calm, but it’s hard; especially since I don’t know who I’m angrier with, them or me. What have I led my sister to? What have I led all of us to?

Two of the strangely clothed men make their way to Sully. “Weapons on the ground now,” they order him. Wordlessly, he drops his guns and knives then looks to Jericho. After a small nod from Sully, Jericho surrenders his mallet.

“It’s okay,” Sully looks at Riley and Oliver. “Just do what they say, okay?” The children drop their blades. Even June drops hers. I am the last to relinquish my sword.

“Just do it, Avery. Drop you weapon. Everything’s going to be all right. Trust me.” Though Sully’s voice is calm, there’s an edge to it, one I cannot place. Perhaps it’s mere alarm, and the intensity of the moment is toying with my mind, making me think he’s afraid, or at the very least not as confident as he wants to sound. Regardless, I’ve never heard him sound as he does. “Come on, Avery. We’ve got to get inside. We need to get out of the sun. We need food and water,” Sully says, only this time he sounds as he always does.

Reluctantly, I lower my sword. “My sword will be returned to me,” I say as soon as the metal touches silt. My gaze is trained on the man before me, the threat of violence quivering through the air like the strike of a finely honed blade. Only unbeknownst to him, it is he who should be in fear of his life, not the other way around, as he clearly hopes I am.

“Put your hands behind your back,” one of the men shouts. All of us who haven’t been cuffed yet will be. A man steps toward June. “Hands behind your back. Let’s go.” I spin to face him, my move drawing the attention of several of their team. More than one crossbow is trained on me.

“Avery, what’s going on here?” June’s voice quivers. Her eyes are pleading and filled with unshed tears.

Metal restraints are clapped on her wrists. Her hands are bound behind her back and the man shoves her forward with his forearm. She winces. The man has been too rough with her.

Something inside me stretches thin then snaps. “Hey!” I scream, my voice springing forth from a place inside me deep and primitive. “Get your hands off her!” I lunge at him but am immediately tackled to the ground. Voices ring out. I’m vaguely aware of my name being shouted, of Sully and Will yelling, but they are drowned by the incessant buzz my ear produces as soon as my head meets with the hard ground below. Pain explodes at my temple and pinpricks of white light fill my field of vision. I am flipped onto my stomach. A knee is pressed to my back, and my hands are shackled behind me.

“Good, let’s load them on the elevator and get back down. We’ve been up here too long.”

I am yanked to my feet by my arms and all of us are led to the box. Once we’ve been corralled, the doors shut and we begin falling.

My stomach crashes to my feet, a wave of nausea accompanying it. June doesn’t look to be faring much better. I wish I could hold her hand, comfort her in some way, but it’s impossible. Lights that resemble the ones in Sully’s lair flicker overhead as we continue to drop. Knowing we are surrounded by dense earth and shale and trapped in a windowless compartment makes every cell in my body yearn for the openness of the desert, the seemingly infinite expanse of pale sand and sky. With ten armed men crowding us, I wonder if I’ll ever see the light of day again. I look to June apologetically, trying to silently convey how truly sorry I am for getting her into this situation in which we exist. She tips her head to one side, the smallest of frowns twisting her lips, just as the falling ends. The doors open and we are greeted by pale, almost white walls arched to form tunnels. In front of me, Sarah, Tom, Sully, Jericho, Will, Oliver and Riley are ushered left. June is brought behind them. I am left alone with two men.

When we reach the door of the compartment, I start follow where my sister and friends have gone. But as soon as I veer in their direction, I am halted.

“Nope, we’re not going with them.” Firm fingers grip my upper arm and drag me to the right, away from the other.

Panic glazes my flesh like ice. My mind swirls dizzyingly. June is being led away from me, taken by these rubber-suited men. I don’t know where she is or what will happen to her. I can’t protect her.

A fine sheen of cold sweat breaks out of my pores. This can’t happen. I need to know what’s going on, why we’re being separated.

“Where are you taking me? Where’s my sister? What’s going on?” My questions fire like bullets. Only no one absorbs the impact. No one answers me. Their faces remain stoic. My insides tremble, my skin grows colder, and my fear for June mounts. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” I shout. “Where are we going?”

When they ignore me a second time, I decide to resist. Sinking suddenly, I bend my knees and drop my shoulder, ramming it where I think the stomach of the man nearest to me would be.

A muffled grunt echoes from the man I’ve struck. He doubles over and I try to run. As soon as I take my first step, I’m caught. An arm hooks under my chin and jerks me back. I land on my backside, trembling veins of pain snaking up my body. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” a voice says close to my ear before I’m hoisted up. They half-drag me the rest of the way, and stop when they reach a metal door. One of the men unlocks it and the door swings inward. I hesitate. An inexplicable scent hangs in the air, one that had an acrid, chemical odor.

“Let’s go,” the man behind me says. Shoving me with his elbow while still clutching his weapon, I am thrust inside. Small cream-colored squares cover the walls and floor. All that interrupts the grid of hard slates are circular protrusions on the walls, a grate at the center of the floor, and a large rectangular pane of thick glass.

“What is this?” I ask as I look around. No one answers me. I don’t know why I bothered asking in the first place.

Another man enters the room, bringing the count up to three. “Need any help?” he asks.

The men look to me then to him. “You might as well stay. She likes to fight.”

“All right, let’s do this,” one says. He produces a pair of shears, and my blood runs cold.

I am grabbed and held still while my shackles are removed. As soon as they’re off, I attack. Like a feral beast, I charge flailing and kicking at the closest man to me.

“See, I knew you’d need help,” a voice says over the rush of blood behind my ears.

“Let me out of here!” I scream as I pound my fists against a rubbery section I assume is a torso.

“Hit her with the stun gun,” one of them says, and before I can twist or duck, a pair of stinging metal disks bite the nape of my neck, sticking there and sending a burst of energy firing through my body that feels like lightning.

My insides feel scrambled. My muscles weaken and I collapse to the floor. Cold tiles rush upward and smack against my cheek.

I am turned over and the three men hover over me. The scissors loom close to my navel. I want to writhe, to squirm away from them, but can’t. My body is immobilized. My shirt is cut away first, leaving my bare breasts exposed. Terror rockets through my core. What are they doing to me? Why are they stripping me? Endless scenarios play out in, the frightening possibilities abound.

“Please, don’t,” I beg and try to cover my chest. I will my arms to move, to cross over my nude flesh, but they don’t budge.

The man moves to my hips and begins unfastening my pants. Another unlaces and removes my boots. My pants and underwear are pulled off my body then placed wherever my ruined shirt, socks and boots have been put. The door opens, and a wooden chair is brought into the room, along with buckets and poles with sponge-like material attached at the ends. The men step away from me, but not before taking a long lingering look at me.

I am naked, alone and terrified. Tears well and cascade down my cheeks. I am utterly defenseless, humiliated as I’ve never been before. And all that keeps running through my mind is one question: Is this being done to June?

My worry is interrupted by the sudden spray of warm water from overhead. “What the heck?” I shout. Forceful jets emerge from the walls and launch at me, pelting my skin so hard it stings.

The water continues for several moments before the men approach me with their buckets and devices. They dip the soft-looking tips of their poles into the buckets, and when they retrieve them, they are coated in bubbles.

“She’s not bad,” one of the men comments as he scrubs my skin with the bubbly brush.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having to do this every day,” another comments, joining in the cleaning.

I want to scream at them, use the swearwords I’ve heard Sully use, to kick and punch and bite, but I can’t. My muscles have been drained of their power, my limbs are like boulders. My clothes, and every ounce of dignity, have been stripped from me. The men, they talk about me as if I am a slab of meat without feelings or worth. The bristles of the brush linger in some areas more than others. Hot tears scald the backs of my eyelids when I am rolled to my stomach then back again, no part of me left private or unexplored by their cleaning tool.

“I like everything I see,” one of the men comments, and I vow to kill him if ever I get the chance. But first I need to survive this. Darkness teases at the edges of my vision. My body feels as though it’s shutting down.

Overwhelmed by a tide of shock too great to overcome, I look up a final time and notice that a figure crowds the window on the wall. A man stands there.

Dressed in fancy garments I’ve only seen in pictures, his presence commands authority. The men look up and see him too. Their chatter stops immediately. The energy in the room shifts. The man behind the glass leans forward. His features become clearer. The determination in his face is intimidating—the tilt of his chin, the glacial gleam in his gaze—all combine and send a shiver of unease up my spine. He stops close enough so he can see all that’s happening.

My consciousness flickers, oblivion seeking to claim me, to free me from the humiliation I’m enduring.

The last thing I see before succumbing to the darkened void is the man in the window’s expression. A thin and brittle smile that doesn’t reach his cold eyes carves his features.

I’m uncertain of how much time has passed, how long I’ve been held captive in the room with tiny tiles and the shower jets. Has it been hours, days? I have no way of knowing. Food and water has been delivered to me a few times. I don’t remember how long ago the last meal was. It’s hard to gauge the passage of time without the sun overhead to help. All I recall is the door to the room was unlocked each time.

The first time it opened, I twitched and started, worrying another round of scrubbing would ensue, when I saw the handle turn. That worry multiplied tenfold when a man wearing a rubber suit opened it and stepped inside. Fortunately, he didn’t stay. He simply placed a tray on the floor and promptly left. Eyeing it suspiciously, I watched it for several moments. I don’t know what I’d expected it to do—jump, aim a weapon at me, grow arms and try to clean me—all I knew was that I didn’t trust it.

Hunkered in the corner and covering intimate parts of me as best I could, I’d strained my eyes to see what was on the tray. A warm aroma wafted from it. Little by little, I inched toward it and found that it was a plate laden with cooked carrots, field greens, a white mashed substance, and meat. A full plastic container of water sat beside the food. My mouth watered immediately. The sight of food and drink, necessities I’d been deprived of for so long, tempting me.

My eyes flickered from the pane of glass to the food. The people who wore white coats and carried clipboards weren’t there. They showed up often, watching me with keen eyes before using slender instruments to scrawl upon the clipboard with. I didn’t want them to see me while I ate. They’d already seen me naked. The least they could do was let me eat in private.

Scooting on my backside and careful to keep myself covered, I made my way to the tray. I picked a piece of meat from it and slipped it between my lips. Tender and juicy, it tantalized my taste buds as never before. An explosion of flavor burst on my tongue. Seasoned with herbs and exotic spices I’d never had, the meat was the best I’d ever tasted. I devoured it, abandoning my modesty and eating with two hands. Once the meat was gone, I ate the carrots and greens. Both are rare. To find either is unusual as edible vegetation is scarce. As I ate the last of the vegetables, my pinky dipped in the pale mushy stuff beside it. I raised it to my lips and sniffed it. It smelled unfamiliar, but pleasant. I touched my tongue to it and immediately discovered that it was magical. Creamy and velvety smooth, the blend was unique and exquisite. I dipped my finger in again and scooped a larger heap. I wrapped my lips around my finger and allowed the rich, smooth, flavor-filled texture to roll around my tongue before I swallowed.

Crouched in the corner once again and with the people with the white coats back and observing me, I remember the first meal I was given. I hate myself for enjoying it. Naked and cold on the hard floor, I contemplate screaming at the people behind the glass. I’ve done it numerous times already. They never respond, never even flinch. All that ends up happening is I yell until my throat feels raw.

I feel broken in many ways. Not knowing whether June is all right is what wounds me deepest. Is she going through what I’m going through at this moment? Has she been stripped of defenses as I have? The thought of sweet, innocent June enduring the humiliation I have is more that I can bear.

My insides begin to quake. The need to escape howls through the hollows of my being like a shrill whistle. Taking my head in both hands, I drag my fingertips down my scalp, and sobs rack my body.

The clink of keys on the other side of the door causes me to lift my head. I swipe the tears from beneath my eyes and shield my chest with my arms. Fury replaces the aching despair I felt seconds ago. I expect another man in ridiculous gear to enter, but am surprised when I see a female.

Soft gray curls curve around plump pink cheeks, short and neat. Her skin is heavily creased, aged but still vibrant. She wears a white jumpsuit that zips up the front. She carries fabric that matches her garb and a pair of dark boots as she approaches me. “Hello, dear, my name is Opal. Here, take these. You may get dressed now.” She extends the cloth to me.

“They’re clothes. Please, put them on.” A small frown deepens the lines around her mouth. “I’m sorry you had to go through all this.” Her eyes, crinkled at the corners, are a lively blue that contradict her advanced age. “I’ll give you some privacy.” She turns her back to me.

I take the clothes and quickly slip the undergarments on first before dressing in the jumpsuit and sliding my feet into the boots. I snort derisively. “Huh, privacy, there’s a word you people know nothing about,” I mumble.

Opal turns. Her expression is tight. “Again, I’m sorry.” Her apology is terse, and definitely not contrite enough to match what I’ve experienced. “You must be relieved—”

“Relieved? Relieved! Relieved about what? About being stripped and leered at?” I fume. “Why would you do this to a fellow human?”

Thin lips part. Opal is clearly flabbergasted. “I, well,” she stammers before collecting herself. Inhaling, she runs her hands down the front of her jumpsuit, smoothing it. “You need to understand that we had to make sure you were free of disease, of viruses. The people of New Washington can’t risk coming in contact with new strains. Foreign illnesses could become deadly and destroy our entire civilization.” She lifts her chin, a self-righteous smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “We quarantined you for the good of our people.”

With my hands balled into fists at my hips, I lick my teeth and bite back a rush of angry words threatening to spew from my mouth. I look at her incredulously. She maintains her flinty gaze. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that in the first place instead of treating me like an animal?” Her eyes widen, softening a bit, as if what I’ve told her has somehow made sense. “I mean, do you know what it’s like to be stripped of your clothes by three men while they ogle you and make lewd comments? Do you have any idea how mortifying that is?”

“I-I, uh, no, I don’t,” she replies, flustered. She clears her throat. “I was unaware that you were treated that way.” She pats the sides of her fluffy hair and purses her lips. “I fully intend to have a long talk with them about how to treat guests.”

“Young lady, you and your friends have been allowed access to the greatest secret this world holds. True, you had to undergo a part of our protocol that is . . . unpleasant, shall we say, but it’s a small price to pay for safety, don’t you think? The son of President Sullivan and his friends are guests. If you were our prisoners, trust me, you’d know it.”

For a moment, I’m taken aback by Opal’s unexpected fire. I need to regain my footing before I can ask about June. Within seconds, I say, “So this protocol,” I draw out the word, “it includes humiliating children, too? My sister was brought in with us. She’s only eight. Did she have to undergo the same, oh gosh, what did you call it again?” I tap my chin for a moment then snap my fingers. “Oh yes, unpleasant. That was it! Did she experience the same unpleasant treatment?”

My words stagger her. The pulse at the base her throat darts so forcefully it makes the loose skin of her neck jiggle. High color touches her cheeks. Indignant, she puffs a huffy breath at me. “All of you had to be sterilized, quarantined and observed to confirm your health before releasing you into the general population.” Her words are clinical and she tries to sound detached, but I can see that I’ve rattled her. Good. Her annoyance is a small reparation toward the degradation me and June and the others were subjected to.

“Take me to my sister,” I demand. “Now.” My voice is low and threatening.

Matching my tone, Opal straightens her posture. “I have orders to reunite you with the rest of your group then take you President Sullivan’s office. He’d like to meet with all of you.” She turns on her heels and marches out the door. “Follow me.” Her words echo over the clack of her shoes.

Not wasting a moment, I follow her and find myself in a hallway. Arced, pale rock surrounds me on all sides. Wide and bright, I don’t feel confined as I did when traveling underground in the box. I walk behind her, my eyes sweeping from side to side, trying to count the doors that crop up suddenly. I lose count after the twentieth. Camouflaged by the surrounding walls, the light color of the doors is lost. Ahead, the passageway flares to an open area. Shapes clad in white jumpsuits linger, familiar shapes I recognize. Riley turns and sees me first.

“Avery!” she shrieks and charges toward me. She leaps into my arms and I cradle her head in my arms.

I look over her head and see Will and Oliver. Sarah, Tom, Sully and Jericho are there, too. I don’t see June at first, and my pulse speeds dangerously. But when a small headful of curls peeks around Jericho’s large, solid frame, it slows to a normal rate. I close my eyes for a split-second and thank whatever force in this universe that decided to grant me a sister. “June,” I say and my voice catches. I jog toward her, shouldering past Opal.

June’s hair is sunshine, and her eyes are the silver blue water of a rushing river. My heart stutters as soon as I embrace her. I lower my cheek to her head and inhale. “My sweet June,” I say. Warmth fills my chest. She’s in one piece. She’s okay and in my arms. But suddenly, that warmth cools. I feel her body shake and tears dampen my jumpsuit.

“They took my clothes, Avery,” she gasps and begins crying. “People in those rubber suits, big scary people, took my clothes and washed me. They left me naked then looked at me through a window.”

Gritting my teeth so hard the enamel threatens to splinter, I absorb her pain. I wish I could relieve it, alleviate it entirely, but I can’t. It is a fact that festers like a wound. My sister is hurting and there isn’t a thing I can do to fix it.

“They did the same thing to Riley and Oliver. And to me,” Will says. Anger shimmers in the depths of his aquamarine eyes. He works to harness it, but I can still see it, waiting just below the surface. He hates what was done to his sister and brother, that they were treated like lesser beings, that all of us were treated like lesser beings.

“They did it to all of us,” Sully snaps. His eyes are narrowed, his demeanor agitated. He paces with one hand on his hip and the other in his hair. “They used to quarantine, but it never used to be like this. Never.” His hands slap against his legs in frustration. He turns to me. His eyes are dark pools of remorse. “I thought we’d all be kept together.” He looks as though he wants to say more. His gaze is pleading. But the sound of Opal’s voice suspends any further conversation.

Rolling his eyes, Sully looks at Opal then back at me. Conflicting emotions vibrate in the air around him. Heaving a sigh, he says, “Guess it’s time to go see my father.” He then turns hesitantly and gestures for Opal to lead the way.

June releases her grip on my waist and slips her hand into mine. She holds on tightly as we enter another tunnel of smooth, cream-colored rock. The floor beneath my feet slopes downward and continues to do so for several hundred feet, curving sharply around a bend until an amber glow spills all around us. The channel broadens then ends. And the sight before me steals the breath from my lungs.

Struggling to take in the stunning landscape, I allow my eyes to rove, wandering over structures built of rock with windows lit cozily from within that line the cobbled pathway. Tall lamps are interspersed between them and send a warm glow across the glistening stone. People—clad in an array of vivid colors—mill about. It exceeds my wildest imaginings. Everything looks soft and inviting. Still, none of what I see puts me at ease.

“What you’re looking at down the road is Washington Central. It’s where my father and the important people live. It isn’t where the regular people here live. It’s much nicer,” he says with disgust.

Further down the lane, the buildings grow in height, towering so that I forget I’m underground, deep beneath the earth’s surface. The ceiling is so high it fades into darkness as deep and intense as the night sky. I strain my eyes and tell myself that if I look closely enough I might see stars. I don’t, of course, but the velvet, navy expanse overhead rivals the heavens.

“Your father and the important people, they live in a place nicer that this?” Will asks.

“That’s hard to imagine,” Will comments. His eyes are filled with wonder. “I can’t believe this place.”

“Come along now,” Opal encourages. “Tardiness is frowned upon in New Washington.” She sets off at a brisk pace.

Trailing behind her, I try to take in the overwhelming magnitude of the city. We pass a shop. An intoxicating aroma floats from it. Pleasant and sweet, the scent makes my mouth water. I slow and gaze at the outer wall of the shop. Made of mostly glass, shelves are set against it, showcasing tan loaves of matter I’ve never seen.

Suddenly, Sully’s lips are practically at my ear. “Bread, that shop sells bread.”

“Yup, flour, yeast salt and water. The bakers toss it in the oven and voila, bread. You’ve got to try it, Avery. It tastes as good as it smells.”

“Huh, bread.” I nod. My eyes revert back to the disappearing display in the window.

“So which building is your dad’s?” Will sweeps his arm out to his side, gesturing among the stone structures all around us.

I’m not sure but I believe he points far away, to the last building. Sitting at the summit of a steep road, I can barely make out the peaks of a massive gray castle. Soaring spires of the structure that is most distant from us disappear in the obscurity, foreboding, intimidating in its sprawling height and width. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me that’s exactly where we’re going.

I agree. It does look scary. The one building is larger than all the other ones combined. Why would one man need that much space? It seems ridiculous. June and I lived in a cave that was a fraction of the size of most of the shops we’re passing, and that had plenty of room for the two of us.

“Seriously, your dad lives there? That’s not another, I don’t know, village or something?” Will looks skeptical.

“So wait a minute, that means he’s halfway scary?” June scrunches her features.

“June bug, he’ll be fine with you, I promise.” Sully touches his index finger to the tip of her nose and she smiles.

Ahead of us, Opal slows long enough to glare at us. “Let’s keep moving, please,” she says brusquely

When Opal returns to face forward, Sully taps June’s shoulder then, when she looks at him, he thrusts his tongue out. June giggles.

We continue walking, the cobbled path beneath our feet growing steadily steeper until it ends. Opal stops in front of a set of ornate iron gates. She pushes a button on a small metal box and a voice crackles from somewhere in the distance. I spin and look all around. No one beside our group is present. Opal says, “I have President Sullivan’s son and his friends.” The voice doesn’t reply, but the gates part on their own, neither Opal nor any of us touch it, and the large castle of stone looms on the crest above us, overlooking the small cottages and shops below.

“Hurry now,” Opal barks over her shoulder and begins marching up a path that’s darker and smoother than the cobbled one we’d been on.

“This place,” Sully gestures ahead of him. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

I swallow hard and intend to answer, but my voice is lost. I’m too overcome by what I’m seeing. Larger than I’d realized, the castle rises from the rocks and soars farther than the eye can see. An indescribable sensation causes my skin to prickle. The building feels almost alive, and threatening.

We enter through a large door, the hinges squeaking in protest, and step into a space that is filled with polished, shiny articles. The floor, the dark wood table, the golden chandelier lit with candles—everything is gleaming. Opal leads us up a wide, curved staircase to the second floor. Stone walls glisten and a narrow band of plush fabric leads to a door at the end of a long hallway.

An ornate emblem is carved in the wood of the door, a winged bird in flight and about to attack, beak open and talons poised. Opal knocks, and a deep voice rumbles from the other side. “Send them in,” the voice orders.

Sitting behind an enormous wooden desk with a finish so luminous I can see my reflection in it, is a man I’ve seen before. Gray and white hairs lighten an otherwise fawn-colored head of hair with the heaviest concentration of white sitting at his temples, and an elongated, slim face marked by a nose curved like a hawk’s beak sits beneath it. Silver facial hair masks a too-thin upper lip and neatly frames a strong chin and jaw. Distinguished looking and impeccably dressed, I recognize him as the man who watched me from behind the glass when I was first brought in.

He stands slowly then with even, unhurried steps, he starts toward us, his dark cloak swirling around his boots.

“John,” he says. “It’s good to see you, son.” His mouth speaks words that are cordial, yet he seems unconvinced of them, emotionless. His faltering smile fails to reach his eyes, and the glint in his eyes conveys hostility.

The only aspect of President Sullivan’s appearance that resembles his son’s comes in the form of rich brown eyes the color of fertile soil. Unlike Sully’s gaze, mischief does not dance in the President’s, and they are far from welcoming and approachable.

“You’ll have to forgive me for not gushing with emotions,” President Sullivan says coldly. “Frankly, I’m surprised to see you’re still alive. How did you manage aboveground, living among those monsters?” The President has yet to acknowledge the rest of us in the room. His eyes are dart tips narrowed on Sully.

“Huh.” President Sullivan strokes his chin. “I’m going to need you to meet with my advisers and give a detailed report of everything that’s happening aboveground. Actually, all of you will meet with my team.” He addresses us for the first time, yet somehow that fact doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m too stunned by how detached his demeanor is with regard to Sully. He just learned his son is alive and has been returned to him. He should be celebrating. His attitude is far from celebratory. He doesn’t seem to care much at all. My annoyance grows the more I think about it.

“President Sullivan,” I address him directly. He whirls on me, looking shocked and horrified simultaneously. “I just wanted to ask why it was necessary to strip us down and treat us like animals?”

President Sullivan looks at me coldly, he face pinching to a point. “I will do whatever I think is necessary to keep the people of New Washington safe.” He enunciates each word then rakes his eyes over me from head to toe, regarding me as if I’m coated in boart dung. “I didn’t know what kind of diseases you could’ve been carrying or what you could’ve dragged down here.” He puffs his chest out and tips his chin haughtily, believing he’s had the final word.

“We still could’ve been handled differently, with respect perhaps,” I add with a lifted chin, voice stern, refusing to allow an ounce of fear to creep into my tone. Perhaps my words were infused with a bit too much defiance. President Sullivan’s flush deepens.

Jabbing his fisted hands to his hips, he glowers at me. “You do realize you’re questioning the President of New Washington, young lady, and that it would be wise for you to proceed with respect, unless you want to be returned to the surface.” He looks at me, challenging me to utter another word.

I press my lips shut tightly to keep the numerous response volleying around my mouth from coming out.

“Dad, since when do you care about the people of New Washington so much? You know, other than worrying about what they can do for you,” Sully bobs a shoulder and says calmly.

President Sullivan’s face reddens. The smug smile he wore seconds ago collapses completely. “Well, son, I see you’re still the same arrogant fool you’ve always been. Life up there hasn’t taught you the slightest bit of appreciation or humility.” He points toward the ceiling, his eyes locked on Sully. But soon, his gaze shifts to us. “I want to make something clear to all of you. I only let you in because you’re with my son. And if I didn’t let my son in, my people would think me unkind, unjust.” He levels a withering gaze at Sully. “I couldn’t have that happen. No one wants an unjust leader. No, no. I had to let him in, even if it was against my better judgment.” His frosty words chill my blood. “If you had shown up without him, I would’ve had my people leave you there to starve to death.” He shrugs casually and glances out his window onto the landscape of stone structures, so idyllic in appearance. When his eyes return to us, his gaze is icy. “You are here now, but I’m not bound to keep you. You’re welcome as long as you behave as all the citizens of New Washington do. If I hear of anything, even the slightest infraction, you’ll be sent back up. Am I clear?”

The room grows so still I fear the wild thumping of my heart is audible. Even Sully is silent.

When June’s small voice rings out with the beauty and clarity of a bird’s song, my heart stops mid-beat. “Mr. President, sir, you have a beautiful city. We don’t want to be forced to leave. We’ll behave as you want us to.” Her face is open and innocent, her words guileless. I find myself feeling equal part proud of her and terrified for her.

I wait for President Sullivan to temper his rigid stance and expression, to soften, if only slightly. But he doesn’t. He remains indifferent to the girls’ courage and kind words. Unaffected eyes move from June and Riley to Sully. “You can stay here with me, John, but your friends will be assigned to the general population.”

The small muscles around Sully’s mouth bunch and flex. “I go where they go.”

“Suit yourself. I better not hear that any of you are telling the citizen of this fair city that it’s safe to be aboveground or trying to incite them in any way, understand?”

President Sullivan and Sully stare at one another stonily for a long moment before the President turns to us. “See Opal for your room assignments and course schedules.”

“You will all be educated, as all inhabitants of New Washington are. We need to fill your heads with knowledge, though I gather it will be a challenge. I assume none of you were taught anything of value.”

Ire bubbles in me like molten lava. “We were taught to survive, not hole up and hide.” I can’t resist. The words vent from me in a venomous hiss.

President Sullivan slams his hand upon his desk. “If one word like that is spoken to my people, you are gone, all of you!” Spittle sprays from his mouth. His cheeks are magenta and a vein that looks like a lightning bolt bulges from his forehead. Tears well in June’s eyes, and Riley sobs quietly.

“All right, I’m sorry. I was out of line,” I say with my sister—with everyone’s—safety and best interest in mind. I realize the need to appease the President. If we’re relegated to the desert without food or water, we’ll die for sure.

The President doesn’t look pacified. He’s as disbelieving of my words as I am. “Just watch yourselves, because I’ll be watching. You can count on it,” he growls. Opal appears, knocking softly on the open door. “Take them away.” President Sullivan waves his hand dismissively.

“Come on, let’s go,” Opal orders us. We follow her and are led out of the stone castle, back down the cobbled street.

With each step we take, a thought pulses through me. I wonder what awaits us. With a ruler like President Sullivan, I can’t imagine New Washington will be the utopia we hoped it would be.

The patter of Opal’s shoes against the stone floor is the only sound I concentrate on as I follow her. Towering, ornate buildings gradually give way to shorter structures, still elaborately adorned with colored glass and dramatic architecture. Iron posts with frosted glass globes keep the picturesque community awash in pleasing light. From the pretty collection of stone houses, the pathway leads us back through rows of shops. Once we reach the open area where I was reunited with June and the others earlier, we do not continue to the pale stone tunnel. We veer and cross the courtyard. Relieved, I assume we’ll be led through another to a collection of dwellings similar to the ones we saw not long ago.

I smile at her. She’d clearly been thinking as I had, imagining what our lodgings will look like. Though President Sullivan issued numerous threats and proved himself to be every bit as awful as Sully said he’d be, a thread of hope still weaves its way into my heart. I can’t help but envision June in a cozy cottage of rock with welcoming, golden light surrounding her. She deserves it, deserves a life free from constant fear and fleeing, free from Lurkers and Urthmen. This is our chance, this is her chance.

I realize I’ve slowed my pace. Opal’s not-so-subtle reminder hastens my feet. June and I catch up to our group just as we enter a different tunnel. Darker and narrower, this one doesn’t resemble the one that led us from our containment rooms. Pallid light crawls along the dingy, uneven floor, making it difficult to see in the distance, and a dank, mustiness tinges the air.

Sully drops back, slowing until he’s beside me. “Get ready. The real New Washington is just ahead.” Bitterness coats his words.

“Just wait, you’ll see what I mean,” he replies with a frown. He holds my gaze for several beats then returns his attention straight ahead.

I shrug, knowing fully I won’t get any more information from him, and continue following Opal’s lead. Jagged rocks jut from the walls on either side, tapering the passageway further. My breathing hitches. A sense of confinement presses me. Just when I feel as if the walls are literally closing in on me, the tunnel widens significantly, opening to dusky light and small, squat buildings.

“Where are we? This doesn’t look like the place we were at before,” June says, her tone low and concerned.

Sully’s words resound in my head. I stop and look around. We’re heading between a clustering of plain gray buildings. Gone are the tall iron lanterns topped with frosted glass, and missing are the artfully adorned, inviting structures. A metallic, earthy scent hangs in the air rather than the aroma of freshly baked bread. “This isn’t at all like where we were before,” I mumble aloud.

“We’d better go.” June looks over her shoulder at Opal, worry creating a crease between her brows.

We hurry to our group. Several other people move around us, but they do not amble at the same leisurely pace as the ones we saw on our way to President Sullivan’s castle. They move swiftly, their gazes never wavering from the space immediately in front of them. I can’t explain why, but something about them, something in the way their lackluster eyes stare hollowly, is haunting. I watch a few as they pass. Dressed in the same jumpsuits we wear, they don’t even glance our way. It’s as if we’re invisible.

June and I exchange a fleeting look. Will, Oliver, Riley, Tom and Sarah look amongst themselves as well. They seem as perplexed as we are by the dramatic shift in appearance of both the city and the people inhabiting it. When Opal stops in front of a long, flat structure and unlocks the door, their heads swivel, their features marked by confusion.

Once the door is opened, we’re forced to walk in single file inside down a hallway so tight my elbows brush the walls on either side if I place my hands on my hips. The air is stale, and growing sparser by the moment; for me, at least.

“Okay, here are your rooms.” Opal’s words are clipped as she halts abruptly, pointing to four separate doors. “You three will be in here.” She points to Will, Riley and Oliver then to a door. “You two can go here.” She gestures to Sarah and Tom then nods toward another. To Sully she says, “You and your big friend will bunk here.” She tosses her thumb at a door behind her. “And you.” She frowns and looks at me with disdain. “And you.” She looks to June. “Will be in here. These are your cards.” She hands us all flat, rectangular pieces of plastic, withholding only one. “You put them in here.” She inserts the one she holds into a metal slot. “And the door opens. Don’t lose it. You won’t be issued another.” With a stern look, she hands me the card she’d been holding. “Dinner is in a half-hour. Good luck and good evening,” she says shortly before turning on her heels and disappearing down the hall.

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Sully looks after Opal’s disappearing form. “I really think she likes us, especially you, Avery.” He lifts both eyebrows mischievously.

“Yeah, she likes me all right, about as much as I like wading through a hip-deep patch of poison ivy.” I roll my eyes and shake my head.

Sully laughs. “Better get inside. There are eyes everywhere.” He shoves his card into the metal slit. The handle moves under his grip and the door opens. “Come on, Jericho.” He waves his friend inside. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

“I need to lie down.” Tom touches his bandaged hand to his forehead. His olive complexion is unusually pale.

Taking the plastic card and placing it in the niche, Sarah opens the door to their room and she and her brother enter. “See you guys soon.” Her eyes linger on Will and the corners of her mouth curve prettily. My stomach knots at the sight. He smiles back at her and nods.

“Okay then, let’s get you inside, into your new home.” Will tries to sound enthusiastic, but I hear the edge of unhappiness in his tone. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see what it looks like in there.” He nods toward the door then holds his card in front of him. “Who wants to do the honors?”

He hands her the piece of plastic and she shoves it into the slot. She twists the doorknob and pushes the door. She rushes in followed by Oliver. “Will, you have to see this! There are three beds!” Riley calls out from inside, the excitement in her tone is obvious.

“Guess I better get in there.” Will looks at me strangely, as if there’s something he wants to say.

Stalling, I do not move to open my door. Instead, I linger by the doorway with one arm draped around June’s shoulder. I’m almost afraid to look inside. I doubt I’ll be as enthused as Riley. “Yup, me, too,” I say.

“That’s what my pal, Opal, said.” I chuckle and a dazzling smile lights Will’s entire face.

Getting my thinly veiled innuendo, June covers her mouth and giggles. Will’s eyes flicker from her to me. “This is all so weird. This place, the idea that dinner is at a certain time and in a certain place, guaranteed, it’s just so weird.”

“I know. I agree. Having food just ready and handed out to me is crazy. All my life I’ve had to hunt for what I ate. If I didn’t catch anything, I didn’t eat.” I draw my shoulders up and tilt my head to one side.

“Yes it is,” I comment. “And since this new world has a lot of rules, we’d better get settled in our room so that we’re not late for dinner.” June beams at me. “We don’t want Miss Cranky-Pants, Opal,” I whisper the old woman’s name conspiratorially, “to come back, do we?”

June stifles a laugh with her hand. “You mean you don’t want to see your pal again?” One side of her mouth lifts into an impish half-smile I’ve seen before. I’m tempted to tease her that she’s spent far too much time with Sully.

“I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “I don’t even know where dinner is. Hopefully Sully will be able to help us out.”

“Hopefully.” Will shifts his weight from one leg to the next. “All right, I guess I’ll head inside. See you in a little while.”

“See you soon.” I slide my card into the thin metal space just as Will turns and goes into his room. The door handle, rigid at first, immediately loosens once the card is activated. I pull it down and push the door with my shoulder. Beyond the threshold, the room is dark. But as soon as we step inside, overhead lights sputter to life. Similar to the fixtures in Sully’s lair, the glow produced is odd and grayish. It reveals two beds I doubt are long enough for June, much less me. One is pushed against a wall while the other sits in the middle of the cramped room. On the far wall—that isn’t far away, at all—is a door. June rushes to it and opens it.

“It’s another room,” she says before she turns the knob. She yanks it, and inside is a toilet with a showerhead directly above it and a drain at the center of the floor. June steps inside. “It’s a bathroom.” Her eyes are wide. “I wonder if it works.” She reaches out her hand and touches it to the small silver lever behind the pot-like mechanism. After a quick glance over her shoulder at me, she grips the lever and drags it downward. A loud whoosh sounds, and water swirls inside, circling until it is sucked through a hole in the bottom of the toilet, out of sight. “Whoa,” June says and steps back. The chamber refills with water. “Where did the water go? Where does the new water come from?” She gapes at the toilet incredulously.

I’m impressed that the contraption works, but less so because I can touch every wall in the bathroom while standing at its center. Closing the door to use either the toilet or the shower is unimaginable. My mind reels, swimming around the notion that all people along this corridor and on this side of the city endure such close quarters. President Sullivan doesn’t. His castle sprawls, stretching in every direction. His office is bigger than the room I’m in by far. I can only imagine the size of his sleeping chamber.

The houses surrounding his castle are impressive, too. I wonder how the people on this side came to live as they do.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I say with far more zest than is necessary. This oversight isn’t lost on June.

Stepping out if the bathroom, she says, “This place is pretty small, huh?” She looks to me for approval. She wants to be happy here.

“Yes, it is, but at least there aren’t any Lurkers or Urthmen hanging around, waiting to off us.” I smile and fold my arms across my chest as I look all around the tiny space. “And look, they even have picture boxes, uh, I mean televisions.” I point to the sleek, black rectangle mounted on the wall opposite our beds.

“Oh, I’m not complaining.” She touches a hand to the center of her chest. I love it. We’re sheltered and safe.”

“We are, sweetie. We are.” The unexpected sting of tears sears the back of my eyelids. I have wanted nothing more than for June to be sheltered and safe. “And there’ll be food for us! Can you believe it?”

June’s silvery-blue eyes sparkle as she gazes up at me. Quickly, however, the light in her eyes clouds. Her brow furrows and she bites her lower lip. Worry radiates from her.

She hesitates a moment, as if debating. “Avery, please promise me you’re not going to do anything to get us in trouble.”

A small pang of hurt pricks my chest. My sister doesn’t trust that I won’t ruin things for us. She isn’t a hundred percent wrong in her instinct to be distrustful. In truth, my outbursts, laden with scorn and disrespect, back at President Sullivan’s surprised even me. Still, I would never jeopardize her well-being to lock horns with him. I know better now. “I’m not going to. I promise.”

Her face relaxes immediately and she plops down on one of the beds. “I’ll take this one.” She pats the one closest to the wall.

I prefer that she sleep there too. When the door is opened, she won’t be visible, not immediately, at least. Strategically, it gives me time to intercept an intruder should one be so inclined to choose our door over the countless others lining the long, dark hallway.

I drop to the bed. My bottom sinks into the mattress immediately. “Wow, this thing’s comfier than it looks.”

“I know.” June flops onto her back. “It sure beats my tattered old sleep sack on the cave floor, that’s for sure.”

I’m not sure why, but her words hurt just a bit. The cave was the best I could offer. I didn’t know about the underground city, not until I met Sully. “The cave floor was better than the desert sand, though, right?” Now I’m the one seeking confirmation.

“Ouch, don’t hold back or anything.” My demeanor is playful. I don’t want her to feel even a shred of guilt, ever.

“What? You didn’t build the cave. You kept me where it was safest, not where it was comfiest. I mean, if we’re talking about the worst place to sleep, the tree wins every time.” She reminds me of the night we fled the forest and were forced to climb a tree and hide sitting tucked within its branches.

“And with Lurkers and a monstrous bat circling, too. Don’t forget about those details.”

Unable to resist commenting on her new favorite facial expression, I say, “That smile you just gave me looks just like Sully’s.”

She blushes and drops her gaze. Looking at me through her lashes, she says, “Oh, really?”

“Huh, I didn’t realize. I guess being around him so much has made some of his habits rub off on me.”

“I guess.” I’m tempted to mention her newly hatched sarcastic streak, but I don’t bother. There’s no point. She’s becoming her own person. It’s not my place to point out every nuance of her continually developing personality. Besides, I like her subtle sprinkling of sarcasm.

We continue to chat, mostly about President Sullivan and his massive castle, about the size and scale of the city, when the television on the wall lights.

A woman’s face fills the screen. She looks like a younger version of Opal. “Inhabitants of Level One A through Level Three B are to report to the cafeteria for dinner. I repeat, Level One A through Three B report to the cafeteria at once.” The screen goes black as soon as she finishes.

June and I look at each other. “I guess that’s us.” Slowly, I stand. “Ready to go and eat?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving.” June glances nervously at the bathroom. “But first I need to, uh, relieve myself.”

June rushes inside. Within seconds, I hear the rush of water followed by giggling. “That thing is so cool!” she exclaims when she steps into our room. “I’m ready now.”

“Let’s go then.” I open the door and peek outside. A sea of white jumpsuits is funneling down the hallway. Will, Riley, and Oliver are pressed against the wall, watching everyone pass. The passersby avert their eyes. Their gazes remain fixed straight ahead. Sarah opens her door and attempt to step out before promptly jumping back. Her head whips up and her eyes lock on mine. She shoots me a questioning expression. I shrug and wait for the line to thin before grabbing June’s hand and dashing across to Will.

“Wow, there are so many people living here. Can you believe it?” His eyes are wide.

Sully bursts from his door. “Hey guys. I see you’re caught in a jam here.” He smiles broadly. “Some things never change,” he adds with a shake of his head. To Sarah, he says, “Come on out, don’t be shy.” He looks to his left and sees just a few stragglers remain.

Taking Sully’s cue, Sarah steps from her room. “That was crazy. It was like an animal stampede.”

“Yup, and if we want to eat, we’d better get moving,” Sully point to his right. “Come on, let’s go.”

With Sully leading the way, we follow the narrow hallway to a large, open room. Tables are set up and people are seated at them, all wearing white jumpsuits, all with brown hair, and all eerily quiet.

I slide a glance at Sully who simply shakes his head and frowns. He guides us to a station where trays are handed to us first, and then a scoop of pale mush is heaped at its center. A glass of water is offered last before we search for a table where we can all sit together. We search for several moments before one comes into view.

“This is a far cry from the food I got when they stripped and scrubbed me,” Sully huffs. “And nothing like the bread we smelled in the fancy part of the city.”

“What is this?” June crinkles her nose and leans away from the pile. “And what are those gray things inside.”

I poke my fork into it and move it around. A shiver of disgust passes through me.

“Oh how bad can it be?” Sarah tosses her dark hair over one shoulder. She scoops a forkful and places it in her mouth. Her pale eyes water and she squints. For a moment, I think she’ll gag. She swallows and promptly gulps her water.

“So, how was it?” Sully asks in his trademark biting style. I suppress a laugh.

Sarah leans across Will, her chest pressed to his arm, and tickles Riley. “Oh you think that’s funny do you?” she teases. “How about you eat a nice big bite?” She playfully grabs Riley’s fork and shoves a generous amount onto it. Will laughs too. She levels her nearly translucent green eyes at him. They glow in a color similar to his against her bronze skin, also like his. “Ah, you too!” she begins digging at his food too and tries to bring a heaping serving it to his lips. He writhes and twists, halfheartedly protesting. An undercurrent of conflicting emotion knots in my gut before roaring to life and choking the air from my lungs. I want to cry, to shout, to pound my fists, to run, all at the same time. Will seems oblivious of me, of my feelings. Why is he doing this to me? Why is he behaving so intimately with her? We’re in the underground city now. We’re safe, for the most part, and free to explore the conversation he wanted to have in the camper. But as far as I can see, he doesn’t seem interested in that in the least. In fact, he seems to have forgotten altogether.

I’m vaguely aware of the fact that I’m boring into them with my eyes. I know I should look away, but try as I may, I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. I close my eyes for a second and inhale the nauseating scent of the food before me, which I’m almost certain is cold by now and far less palatable. I jab my fork into it and jerk a small mound onto the tines of my utensil. I bring it to my lips and thrust it into my mouth. I do not taste its foulness. Anything offered to me at this point would taste of bitterness and ash. I am suffering inside; silently watching any chance of happiness with Will slip through my fingers like grains of sand.

Apart from the despair I’m feeling, both Will and Sarah appear oblivious of the fact that they are the loudest two people in the entire room. Rows of brown haired people lean over their trays, heads bowed as they eat and speak softly. Sarah and Will are drawing attention to us. And attention is exactly what we don’t want, not with President Sullivan’s promise to watch us closely.

“Hey you two, cool it,” Sully urges them in a hushed tone. “We’re already on my father’s bad side. The last thing we want is to stir up trouble with the GenPop.”

“The general population,” Sully says. “You know, the people who live on this side of town.”

“What’s the difference between these people and the ones we saw on the way to your dad’s?” she rests her chin on her fist and asks, focusing all her attention on Sully.

Sarah puffs out her lower lip and pouts. “No, why don’t you tell me.” She bats her eyelashes coyly, only Sully seems put off by her gesture not charmed by it. He is immune to whatever spell she’s cast over Will.

“Uh, for starters there’s the food. This is not how the President, my dad, eats, and neither do the people who live around him. They can afford better. And it’s not just the food, it’s the houses, and—”

“Why can’t the people here have the same stuff?” Sarah interrupts him. “What can’t they better their situation?”

Sully’s eyes narrow and he leans in, his top lip snarled over his teeth. In a low growl of a voice, he says, “You think these people haven’t tried? You think they’re lazy or not as smart and good as the people on the other side of town? You’ve been here for five minutes.” He licks his lips and exhales exasperatedly. “You don’t know the first thing about how the city works.”

Sarah raises her hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, someone’s extra sensitive,” she says acidly, but no one laughs, not even Will. She clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe you can explain how this city works another time,” she says tightly.

Sully ignores her and eats silently. All of us do. But when I notice an odd occurrence, I nudge Sully with my elbow. “Sully,” I whisper. He looks at me and nods as if questioning what I want. “Don’t look right now, but in a second, look at the three tables directly in front of us. The people there keep turning and, I swear they’re looking at me.”

Sully shoots her a harsh look. He scratches his chin and feigns interest in his tray then looks up inconspicuously. When he returns his attention to our table, he says, “You’re right They are.”

“Shh, wait a second.” He holds his hand up, silencing our group. And when he does, one word continues to undulate and roll like a wave on water: Azlyn.

Molten brown eyes stare straight through me when Sully turns to face me. “You,” he says. “You are Azlyn.”

“No, Azlyn means a vision or a dream. That’s the meaning of the name of the girl in a story we’ve all heard, a bedtime story our parents told us. Azlyn had blonde hair, like you.”

“Look around. No one has blonde hair here, certainly not as light as yours.”

I want to ask him more, to find out why, but crossbow carrying men in dark uniforms enter the cafeteria and silence everyone.

“Great, they’re here.” Sully practically spits his words. “Welcome to New Washington,” Sully adds snidely before the room grows as still as a tomb.

In my mind, I scream at the top of my lungs and know in the deepest recesses of my being that I am not going to fare well in the underground city.

I wake with a start, pulled from the same nightmare that’s plagued me night after night for years by the sound of a female voice. The television screen on the wall is lit, the rectangular field filled with the stern face of the woman from yesterday. “It is time to wake. I repeat it is time to wake.” She continues to say the same sentence over and over. I spring from the bed and move to the monitor, sliding my fingers along the smooth perimeter of it.

“I’m trying.” As my fingertips skim the edges of the television, I don’t feel any bumps or buttons. “I don’t think there’s an off switch.” I step back and look for a cord to unplug. I don’t see one. “There’s no way to shut her up,” I say with resignation. “Let’s hope she goes away in a few minutes.”

Deciding to play with my sister, I say, “June, what if she sees you and that’s why she keeps telling us, well, you, to get up?”

June bolts upright. Her eyes are round as they dart from side to side. She scuttles to the foot of the bed, waving her hands in front of her. She looks directly at the monitor. “I’m up. I’m awake. See?” She snaps to get my attention. “Do you think she sees that I’m awake now?” she smiles and talks through her teeth, her gaze never wavering from the television.

Laughter grips me, contracting my stomach muscles so hard they hurt. “Oh June,” I gasp, tears gathering. “I was just kidding around. She can’t see us.” I continue laughing.

She looks from the screen to me, a giant, unnatural smile plaster on her face. “How can you be so sure?”

The woman’s voice stops abruptly, and the monitor goes dark. My head snaps toward it, my laughter ending.

“See?” June points to the dark screen. “Not so funny now, is it?” She tips her chin triumphantly. “And to think, if she reports directly to President Sullivan, he’s going to know you mocked me for following directions.” She leans forward, her eyes unfocused as she stares at the floor. “He might think your behavior is so offensive that he sends us back up to the surface.” Her head drops into her hands, her shoulders slumping dejectedly. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to run from Urthmen and Lurkers anymore.”

Guilt wraps me in a thorny blanket of gloom. I was just joking. I didn’t think there was any truth in my silly prank, not at first. “June, I’m, I’m,” I fumble. “I’m sorry. I was just messing with you, teasing you, you know? I had no idea she could see us.” My mind spins, searching for potential excuses I could use to justify my laughter and generally idiotic behavior. The last thing I want is for June and the others to get kicked out because of me. I don’t want them to get kicked out at all.

June’s head is lowered. She’s crying, no doubt. I’d cry too if I were my sister. I move toward her.

When I place a hand on her shoulder, her head whips around, and a giant grin rounds her cheeks. “Ha! You should see your face right now!” She is the one who giggles this time. “Oh Avery!” She clutches her belly, doubling over. “What am I, a baby? I mean, come on! And even a baby wouldn’t believe the lady in the television could see us!”

Heat creeps up from my collar and spreads across my cheeks. “I guess I’m a baby then, because when the woman finally stopped, I believed it.”

“I guess you are!” Her laughter is infectious. I can help but smile, despite the fact that I am the butt of the joke.

“Yeah, well, maybe I am.” I give her shoulder a playful shove. She keels over against the mattress on her side. “But this baby is going to try out that shower first.”

Propping herself up onto one elbow while wiping tears with her free hand, June still smiles. “Do you think it sprays hot water like the one in the room we were held in?”

I don’t like to think about the first day I spent here. I especially don’t like to think about her first day here, given that it was identical to mine. A small shock bolts down my spine, making me shudder.

June frowns, remembering the day herself, I’m sure. I hate that she has that experience branded in her memory for the rest of her life. I wish I could erase it, wipe it clean.

I hang my head, shame loading it with immeasurable weight. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out.” I force a smile, for June’s sake.

“All right, I’m sorry, but first you zing me by reversing my joke and turning it on me, and now you wink at me. You’ve already got the little half-smirk down pat, by the way. What’s next? Is Sully recruiting you when I’m not looking or something?”

June’s eyes widen, her lips part, and her cheeks glow a heated red. She pauses for a beat, speechless. But quickly, she recovers and throws a lopsided smile my way. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says, purposely trying to sound mysterious.

I swat the air in fake frustration, drawing more laughter from her, and then march into the bathroom.

Once inside, I fiddle with the knob over the toilet for several moments before, finally, a trickle of lukewarm water rains from it. It’s a far cry from the powerful surge in the quarantine room, and noticeably colder, but without a river nearby, it’s my only option available to clean myself. I lather myself with a cube of hard matter called soap, a substance I learned of from overhearing the men who scrubbed me. I rinse quickly and report back to June that my experience was unexciting. I leave out the fact that my heart was drilling my ribs due to the overwhelming sensation that the walls of the compact space were closing in on me. She showers quickly and we review the course schedules that were slipped under our door after we fell asleep.

“Where are you supposed to go first?” June asks as she combs her fingers through her hair, her schedule resting on her lap.

“I have to go to something called ELA. What do you suppose that is?” She rumples her brows in consternation.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head and grow increasingly wary of the underground city with every minute that ticks by. The urge to follow her to her classes mushrooms.

As if sensing my thoughts, June says, “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be fine. All these classes are to teach us important stuff. How bad could they be?”

Classes to teach us stuff! The notion seems absurd. The world on the surface doesn’t require multiple lessons or programs. It doesn’t require lectures, either. All anyone needs to know is how to survive. The other stuff is nice, but not helpful. If a Lurker is on your heels, the last thing you’re thinking about is wars fought centuries ago. No, there’s nothing in the classes listed that have any useful information to impart. I know all I need to know. Urthmen and Lurkers hunt us. They are to be killed on sight. Humans need food and water daily if possible. I know of which vegetation to avoid, and which animals have the most meat. Beyond that, there’s nothing else that’s necessary.

“Hello? Avery! Are you listening to me? Are you okay?” June’s worried voice saturates the thoughts pounding through my brain.

June purses her lips at me. “Please, Avery, just give this a chance. I want to be here.” Her eyes are lakes of glistening, silvery water, pleading with me.

“I know you do, June. I do. And I want to be here, too. I admit, the whole course thing seems kind of stupid. I mean, I’m seventeen; an adult for goodness’ sake! What can anyone teach me that I don’t know already?”

With her eyes narrowed to slits, June folds her arms across her chest. She doesn’t need to speak a word. Her expression says it all.

“But, for you, and everyone else, I’m willing to open my mind and do whatever I’m told.” I say what I think she wants to hear and hold my breath until a broad smile bends her lips. “Besides, Sully told me to enjoy my time in school because as soon as it’s done, we’re assigned to work detail.” I scrunch my features exaggeratedly. “I’ll gladly sit beside a bunch of kids and learn what they’re learning rather than that,” I say when in truth, work doesn’t scare me in the least.

“Good.” June smiles at me proudly. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

“I’m sorry. And really, June, you have nothing to worry about. I’m not going to ruin this. I promise.”

Appeased, she slips her hand into mine and escorts me to the door. She opens it and steps out into the hallway. Riley, Oliver and Will are waiting, talking to Sully and Jericho.

“Hey, there they are,” Sully says to Riley. Then to June, he says, “I bet you’re excited about your first day of school, right?”

June lowers her eyes to her feet and transfers her weight from one foot to the next.

“Hey, June bug, what is it?” Sully hooks his finger under her chin, lifting her face so that she looks at him. “You okay?”

Blushing, she looks away. “Well, I guess I’m a little nervous. Mostly excited, but a little nervous, too.”

“You have nothing to worry about. No one’s going to mess with you, I promise, especially since they know you’re with the President’s son.” Sully winks at her.

Ordinarily, I’d be thrilled that he’s calming her; that the worry line creasing her brow has disappeared. But my mind is stuck on the fact that she’s nervous, or more specifically that she didn’t tell me that she was nervous. She never mentioned it. I wonder why she feels comfortable sharing this with Sully and not me.

“Me, too,” Riley exclaims. “Only I’m mostly nervous and only a little excited. And does everyone know that you’re our friend, Sully?” She bites her lower lip then says, “Also, what’s ELA? I have that class first and I don’t know what it is.”

June rushes to Riley’s side and they scan their schedules. They squeal with delight when they learn that both are identical. They will be together the entire day. I feel a modicum of relief knowing neither will be alone. Oliver will be with them, as well, though he is less enthused by this information.

“ELA is an acronym for English Language Arts. It’s a class that teaches you about the language we speak.”

“But we already know how to speak.” Riley’s forehead rises and half her mouth tilts upward in confusion.

Sully chuckles. “You’ll learn more about it, reading and writing, the mechanics and stuff. You’ll see. Trust me it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“My parents taught us to read and write already. I don’t think I need to relearn it,” Riley comments.

Riley still looks skeptical but shrugs. Then she and June bow their heads and pore over their schedules. All I see is a mound of curly gold hair and a mound of straight dark-brown hair.

Will smiles and nods toward them, raising his brows. Their worries appear to be forgotten at the moment. “What classes do you have?” he looks at me and asks.

Will goes down the list of classes he has. I’m thrilled to find out that the four of us will be together for each class.

When Sarah flounces out of her room with her brother in tow, I’m reminded that she’ll likely be a part of our courses, too. Clean and polished like the furniture in President Sullivan’s castle, Sarah looks radiant even though she wears a white jumpsuit identical to all of ours.

“Hey everyone,” she says excitedly. “I have this sheet of paper. I found it on the floor this morning. What is it? What does it say?”

June and Riley look at Sarah. Their expressions are almost apologetic. Sarah was a captive of the Urthmen, a slave. Reading and writing were skills she was never taught.

Will leans in and takes the paper from Sarah’s hand. He smiles at her sympathetically and tells her, “You have a full schedule of classes, just like the rest of us.” He then compares his sheet to hers. “And it looks as if we’ll be together all day.”

“A full schedule?” Her plump pink lips are parted and her head is tilted to one side.

“Classes where we learn stuff,” Will says with tenderness that borders on affection.

“Yeah, and they start today.” Sully shakes his head and makes plain his annoyance. “You’d think I’d get to skip going, but no! I have to go. Guess I’m being punished for leaving. I get to repeat courses I’ve already taken.” He huffs loudly.

“Gee, I guess I’m the only one who’s happy about heading to,” she pauses and fumbles with the piece of paper in her hand, “Where are we headed, Will?”

Sarah tosses her head back and sweeps a cluster of silky hair that spills over her shoulder to her back, thrusting her ample chest out in the process. “To The Learning Center we go!” she says with increased enthusiasm. “I, for one, am thrilled to go, thrilled to be here.”

I’m stunned that he’s impervious to her obvious genetic gifts, especially since she wields them like weapons, seemingly ensnaring the attention of all the males around her. All except Sully. Instead of being fascinated by her, he seems immune to her allure. I wish I could say the same for Will. Rapt by her giggling and hair tossing, his eyes are riveted to her.

My insides scream again, so loudly I worry those around me will hear. I bite the inside of my cheek and inhale sharply through my nose. June looks up at me. As someone who knows me almost as well as I know myself, she reads me. She clears her throat and looks around at the group. “Hey guys, we’d better get going. I don’t want to be late ever, but certainly not on my first day.” Her eyes return to me. I thank her wordlessly and she gives a slight nod. We turn and begin walking down the corridor.

The narrow tunnel extends for what seems like forever. We stop at the cafeteria. Without tables and people filling it, the space looks even starker. Ashy light and stone walls of dull gray lend it an austere, cavernous feel. I try to focus on the meager food set out for us, not liking the strange sinking feeling it evokes in the pit of my stomach. We grab a bread-like substance shaped like a circular tube and leave quickly. I focus on the back of Sarah’s form in front of me on the way out. The sight doesn’t little to improve matters.

Thick, dark hair falls to the small of her back and swings like a pendulum as she walks beside Will, her body so close, not even the thinnest ribbon of light passes between their bodies. She and Will lead the way and Tom and Jericho pick up the rear. I am beside June, who links the crook of her elbow with mine and gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. I’m grateful for her gesture, for her presence, always. Without her, I’m confident I would’ve erupted.

The passageway winds and bends until it ends at an open space. All around us, walls in a leaden shade lower and smother the feeble light. The air thickens, a sooty, dirtiness polluting it. My nostrils and throat begin to burn, and with each breath I take, my lungs follow suit.

Hacking, Sully fans his hand in front of his face. “Ah, there’s that clean New Washington air I remember so well.”

Between the dimness of the lighting and the haziness, it’s an effort to see in the distance, but I’m able to make out a series of long, flat buildings.

“That’s The Learning Center.” Sully points to a nondescript structure that blends with the others.

“What’re the other buildings?” I ask and feel my throat tighten, a cough coming on.

“Factories?” Curiosity gets the better of me, though I’d prefer to limit inhaling. I vaguely remember hearing mention of the word factory, but never fully understood their purpose, what they were exactly.

“Factories are places where all the stuff here is made: the furniture, the jumpsuits, our beds and the blankets on them, even the soap. All those things and more are made there.”

I allow my gaze to scour the landscape more carefully. Atop each building, pipes rise vertically, and from them, thick, cloud-like matter vents.

“It’s where the people on this side of the city work to make things they’ll never be able to buy,” Sully adds, a hint of disgust infusing his words.

“We’re on this side of the city. Does that mean we’ll have to work there?” Riley asks.

“You won’t until you finish school. But Will, Jericho, Avery, Sarah, Tom and I will, and soon. We’ll be assigned the work detail like everyone here’s assigned to.”

“People who are born on this side, stay on this side. That’s just how things work.” He glances over his shoulder and shoots Sarah a bitter look.

“We weren’t born on this side. We weren’t born here at all. If we want, we can just work hard and learn, like we’re supposed to, and then ask for an assignment on the other side.” She won’t let the discussion go. Clearly it’s a touchy topic for another time, perhaps a time when were not headed to our first day of school.

“Listen, Sarah, you don’t know how things work around here.” Sully spins suddenly to face her, a spark in his eye that borders on hostile. “I get it. But once you’re on this side, this is where you stay.” His lips collapse to form a hard line and he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He points behind him, toward the buildings that are closer now. “The people that work there, trust me, they don’t want to do that. They want to work where they get to sit down every now and then, take breaks to pee if they have to, and earn a wage that assures them more than one meal a day. But they’ll never be able to. Not as long as my father is in charge.”

Sarah’s eyes are wide. She looks as if she might cry. If Will weren’t placing a hand on her shoulder, I’d feel a bit of sympathy for her. “I didn’t know,” she sniffles.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that there are a lot of things about this place that you’ve yet to learn.” He jabs a hand through his hair. “It’s the same as when you were assigned work detail with the Urthmen. You didn’t have a say in the matter. You had to do as you were told.”

Sarah tips her chin. Her lower lips quivers. “I was a slave. Are these people slaves, too?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sully replies, “No, not exactly. They can leave if they want. They’re not allowed to bring anything with them though, and they’re not allowed to come back; ever. Leaving here all but guarantees death. So it’s either work or die. There’s no other choice.” He sighs. “I’m the only person who’s ever left and returned.”

“All right, Sully, I think we get the point.” Will’s expression is hard. “Why don’t you show us where our classes are and we can talk about this another time, okay?” His words are more of a warning than a question.

Sully shakes his head slowly, smirking with only half his mouth. “Yeah, right,” he drawls then turns slowly. He leads us past several buildings until we reach The Learning Center. We walk the children to their class and, after kissing both June and Riley on the head, I enter a room with about twenty-five others inside. All eyes focus on us as we move to the back of the room toward an open table. Whispers haunt the air. The words “President’s son” and “Azlyn” linger in the air like spectral beings. I steel myself and straighten my posture, meeting lingering stares until gazes return to where they belong. I silently vow to ask Sully to share the story of Azlyn with me as soon as possible.

We make our way to a rectangular table with six chairs around it. Jericho, Will and Sarah sit across from Tom Sully and me. Hushed tones are silenced when a man I assume is the instructor steps to the front of the room and begins speaking. After calling the names of each person present and marking a piece of paper each time the word “here” is uttered in response, he starts his lesson.

For the first few minutes, he reviews material from the last class. But not long after, he tells us about a Civil War in the United States that happened centuries ago, when humans ruled and Urthmen didn’t exist. The country divided and fought against one another. The idea seems crazy at first, to hear that a country without monsters seeking to murder them warred with each other. But the longer I listen and the more details surrounding the uprising that are presented, the more reasonable it sounds. The circumstances, as well as the vehemence with which Americans fought each other, resonates in my bones. Time passes so quickly that when the bell rings, I feel as if no time whatsoever has passed.

Sarah stands and stretches, placing her backside eye-level with Will. He stands and she turns to face him. “Wow, that was long,” she sighs. “I can’t believe we have more classes just like it to look forward to.”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it.” Sarah giggles then reaches out and grips Will’s forearm.

My insides begin to boil, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin so hot I feel as if I’m going to explode. Watching Will and Sarah interact grows unbearable. It’s more than I can take.

Unable to withstand it another second, I say, “Hey Will, can I talk to you for a minute.”

At first I don’t think he hears me. He hesitates, letting Sarah finish whispering whatever she’d been saying to him, then turns around. “Yeah, sure,” he answers.

“Let’s go out in the hall where it’s less crowded.” I force myself to smile, though smiling is the last thing I feel like doing.

“Sure.” He nods to Sarah and the others. “We’ll meet up with you guys in a few minutes outside the next class.” He looks at his course schedule. “It’s only two doors down. I think we can manage to make it there without getting lost. What do you think, Avery? We’ll be okay, right?”

I bob my head woodenly. In truth, I don’t think we’ll be okay at all, but that opinion has nothing to do with traveling to class.

Everyone agrees, and Sully levels an unreadable gaze my way before reluctantly leaving without Will and me. We’re the last people to leave the room and I stop just outside the door, out of earshot of anyone.

“Will, what’s going on with you?” I cut to the chase. “You wanted to talk about a relationship with me when I was the only girl around. But now—” I let my words hang in the air between us.

Will’s expression is blank for several beats, and then his brows rocket to nearly his hairline. “Is this about Sarah?” He looks shocked. And nervous. I’ve never seen him like this. “It’s not like that, Avery. We’re just friends. That’s all. Like you and Sully, nothing more. And besides, you know how I feel about you.”

Jitters set up camp within me. Every cell in my body feels as if it is vibrating riotously. I try to read his demeanor, try to tell whether he’s being sincere or not. But my thoughts are scrambled; muddled by visions of him kissing Sarah the way he kissed me in the camper. I’ve never experienced anything like that kiss in my life. It felt as if a bolt of lightning streaked through my very core.

And then I see it. Rather, I hear it first. The sound of Sarah’s laughter peals like a bell down the hallway. She is near. Will glances over his shoulder, and I see the glint in his eye. Something. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but a small almost imperceptible tick touches his features. In the instant that I see it, my heart dives to my feet.

“She’s beautiful. I get it.” I sound like Sully now: bitter, volatile. “By all means, feel free to go be with her. Don’t feel obligated because of what happened between us on the camper.” I turn away from him and take several steps away.

His large hands wraps around my wrist. “I don’t, Avery. I don’t feel obligated.”

“Great,” I say through my teeth. “Glad to hear it.” I look from his hand latched to my wrist to his face, warning him silently to let go.

“I care about you,” he whines. But it’s not enough. He seems conflicted, torn between the two of us. “And Sarah, she’s just so vulnerable, and soft. I want to protect her.”

The emotion in his voice, the tenderness with which he speaks of Sarah, forces my hand. I decide to make the choice for him.

“Let go of my wrist,” I say between clenched teeth. I twist out of his grip and storm off.

The smoky tunnel is blurred further by the tears that fill my eyes. I can’t get away from him fast enough and am glad he’s not following. I need to compose myself before my next class.

Blinking several times, I glimpse my course schedule. Self-defense is the next class listed. “Great. That’s just what I need,” I mutter, and for once, am truly happy to be required to unleash some of the fiery emotions storming about inside of me.

I enter the room of my next class and am immediately greeted by a scent that is vaguely musty and tinged with sweat. Students are seated in a circular shape and a person I presume is a man holds their attention at the center. It’s hard to tell the gender for certain as I can only see the person’s back. He wears a long, dark ponytail that is probably the width of two of my fingers, is about my height, and is slender. I lean toward male because the build, as well as the stance are both decidedly masculine. Feet are planted shoulder-width apart, shoulders are pinned back while arms are folded across a chest that seems a bit too wide for a woman. Regardless, I’ll find out soon enough, when I am sitting and see his face.

As I am making my way across the hard floor to the area where a blue square of strange looking material has been spread out, Sully waves to me, gesturing for me to join him. I’m relieved to see him and Jericho. Unfortunately, he’s sitting with Sarah and Tom also. But instead of feeling the burn of hot tendrils of jealousy coiling about inside of me, I feel something else, something worse: defeated. It’s not that I’m unworthy or undeserving of Will’s affection. I’m not defective in any way, not that I know of at least. I just refuse to vie for his attention. I won’t compete with Sarah. They can have each other. It hurts, but it’s the way of things.

With the two of them at the forefront of my mind, I suspect Will is behind me when Sarah’s face lights up, her gaze seemingly pinned on me. A casual glance over my shoulder confirms my suspicion, compounding my sense of resignation. Not that I ever doubted for a second that Sarah would sit up straighter or start fussing with her hair because of me. I don’t venture a second glance to gauge Will’s reaction. I don’t want to see it. Besides, Sarah’s gaze is not the only to land our way. Many eyes follow Will and me. Several heads turn.

“Oh, I’m so glad the two of you decided to join us,” the instructor comments in a venomous voice.

Fire races up my neck and engulfs my cheeks. I lower my head and quicken my steps until I sit beside Sully.

“As I was saying,” the instructor enunciates each word and glares in our direction. Small eyes, the color of soot, sit beneath sparse brows. His broad forehead is creased heavily, likely a result of continually scowling as he is now. Definitely male, the instructor’s hairline starts far back on his head, making his ponytail all the more absurd. “This is the most important of all your classes. Sure, it’s nice to know fancy facts about things that happened hundreds of years ago in a civilization that no longer exits, but if you’re dead, what good is it? And make no mistake about it, if something happens to our city you will die if you don’t master what I’m teaching here.” Condescension oozes from him like pus from an infected wound. He tips his chin haughtily, raising it so high I can see straight up his long, hooked nose.

Looking completely satisfied with himself with his thin lips pursed, I have to admit, he does have a point, although I think there might be a better way to convey it, especially since the age range in this particular class is broader. Children younger than June share space with me. They’re watching him with eyes widened by pure fear.

“Yes, what is it?” the instructor addresses the boy who looks to be six or seven at most.

“Mr. Derrick, I don’t want to die.” The little boy’s eyes are filled with tears, his lower lip quivering.

“Well, James, none of us want to die! That’s the whole point of being here! That’s why you need to pay attention to everything I teach you.”

The little boy begins to cry. Each tear that falls spikes my heart rate. My hands ball into fists so tight, my palms sting.

“James you’re going to need to grow up, there is no place in this world for tears. If an Urthman attacks you, what do you plan to do, cry all over him? No, you need to know how to defend yourself.”

The boy sobs quietly, and deep within the cavernous hollows of my being, a beast awakens. Looping and twining barbed tentacles, I feel it readying to strike. Sully does too. He senses the pressure mounting just below the surface of my skin and places a hand out in front of me, as if stopping me from lunging.

Mr. Derrick licks his teeth and sneers. “I’ll tell you what, James, why don’t you come up here and I’ll try to teach you how not to die.”

James sniffles and wipes his tears with the back of his hand, but hesitates, debating whether or not to take the instructor up on his dubious offer.

“If I were that kid, I’d sit down,” Sully whispers. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally get whipped by that nasty dead thing he’s got draped between his shoulders.”

Hoping the child declines Mr. Derrick’s offer, I snort and almost smile. But my smile collapses the moment I hear the instructor’s strident voice fill the room.

“Forget it! Sit back down! I’ll talk with your parents later.” Mr. Derrick swats the air dismissively. “Okay, uh, Laura, Dean, you two are up. Come on! Come to the center of the circle!”

A boy and girl who look to be no older than fifteen reluctantly stand. They look left then right, and don’t seem to know how to navigate through the people in front of them.

“Move people! Let’s go!” Mr. Derrick bellows. “If Urthmen ever find us, standing still won’t help you.”

Laura and Dean move to the center of the circle, shifting nervously as Mr. Derrick retrieves weapons for them. When he extends wooden swords that look similar to the ones June and I used to train with, I feel a degree of relief. The children will train, as she and I used to.

They begin sparring, clumsily hefting the wooden weapons as if they’re made of lead. Though their moves are ungainly, their determination is evident. They want to learn. I can see it. With instruction and practice, they’ll get it fast. But apparently I’m alone in believing this.

“No! No! No!” Mr. Derrick shouts. With his cheeks bright red and sucked in angrily, he marches over to Laura and wrenches the sword from her hand, twisting it so hard she loses her footing and tumbles to the floor below. “I can’t even look at this pathetic display! Laura, go back to your seat in the circle!” he barks. His eyes are wild, and saliva sprays when he screams. “You, stay.” He points to Dean with the wooden sword. “Now fight!”

Before Dean has a chance to answer, Mr. Derrick charges, rushing toward him. Dean swings several times, retreating, but the instructor blocks each attempt. Then, in a grandiose manner, Mr. Derrick cocks his sword, mustering all his strength and strikes. His weapon grazes the boy’s before landing against his cheek with a loud crack. Dean collapses to the floor clutching his face.

“Dead!” Mr. Derrick states in a matter-of-fact tone. He walks the entire circumference of the circle, glowering at everyone he passes. He stops and turns to Dean who’s barely managed to make it to his hands and knees. “Up Dean! Back to the circle with Laura.”

Dean is slow getting to his feet, but eventually, he stands and staggers to his seat.

Leaning forward, I’m in a crouched position. Blood howls through my body with the ferocity of gale-force wind.

I turn to face him. He’s breathing a heavily as I am. Fury lights his eyes. He feels as I do. I can sense it; feel the tremor of a great tempest brewing in not just me, but him too.

He holds my gaze for several tense beats then I look away, Mr. Derrick’s voice returning me to the scene unfolding.

“Next!” His eyes scan the class. They land on a lean boy with rich, dark skin like Jericho. “You. Come on!”

The boy stands and rolls his shoulders back. On the surface he looks brave, but I wonder if I’m alone in seeing the tremor in his hand when he reaches for the sword Mr. Derrick offers.

As soon as the sword is in his hand, the instructor wastes no time and doesn’t allow a minute to pass. He hops forward, his movements jerky. The boy swipes in a wide arc, handling his wooden weapon with more dexterity than the ones before him, but he’s not a match for Mr. Derrick. The man blocks his strikes then as soon as the boy moves to swing, he jabs his sword into his stomach. The body doubles over, dropping his sword and clutching his midsection. As he bends, Mr. Derrick drives the handle of his weapon into the boy’s back. An anguished howl rips through the air. The boy drops to the floor.

“Dead!” Mr. Derrick beams gleefully. He pauses dramatically. “None of you have learned a thing!”

The pressure inside me surges so intensely, I can no longer contain it. Springing to my feet, I shout, “Enough! They’re just kids. You’re supposed to be teaching them. Not abusing them!” The words rush from me in a furious torrent.

For a moment, his eyes are wide, and he’s stunned still. But quickly, he rebounds and his eyes narrow to spiteful points. “How dare you speak out of turn, filthy surface dweller!” he hollers. “You are a student, and I am a teacher!” He turns, thinking he’s cowed me into silence. Clearly, he’s thought wrong.

“Too bad there’s nothing you can teach me.” I do not tame the raging contempt running rampant in my tone. “You aren’t even that good. You’re just fighting children who don’t have the skills you’re supposed to be teaching them yet. So yeah, you look really tough beating up little kids, but trust me, you wouldn’t stand a chance with an Urthman.”

A cruel snicker passes through his wafer-thin lips. That snicker quickly devolves into a bizarre, hysterical cackle. “Not that good. Not that good! Are you kidding me? I’m the best fighter in New Washington!”

Mr. Derrick sucks in his cheeks so tightly, for a moment I worry his face will collapse. When finally he takes a breath and speaks, disbelief mixed with arrogance peppers his words. “I suppose you think you are a better fighter.”

To my right, I hear Will whisper my name. “Avery, come on. Knock it off.” I feel his eyes on me, and can see him in my periphery. He’s turned to face me.

“Come on then, bigmouth. What’re you waiting for? Show me how good you are.” Mr. Derrick prances with his arms wide, his gestures flamboyant. I wonder if he realizes how silly he looks strutting around as he is. With long arms and legs like a frog, an undersized torso, and his straggly ponytail, his gestures are meant to intimidate but end up being little more than buffoonery.

Every fiber of my being longs to spar with Mr. Derrick. His abuse of power, his abuse of the children urges me. June is the reason I want to silence him, and she’s also the reason I should sit down and close my mouth.

“Come on, Avery. Just let it go,” Will begs. I glance over my shoulder at him. His aquamarine eyes plead. For a split-second, I contemplate doing as he says. My knees buckle ever so slightly, the space between Sarah and Sully just a bend away. All I need to do is lower myself to the floor. But I can’t. I picture June and Riley, their small, shivering frames cowering under the tyrannical threats of Mr. Derrick. Or worse, the girls enduring the physical cruelty he doled out readily just during the span of this session. No, I can’t sit down. I look away from Will, swiveling my head toward Sully. He smirks, and the twinkle in his eyes when they lock on mine tells me he already knows what I plan to do. He knows what’s going to happen. And glittering in the depths of his brown eyes, I see he stands beside me.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I accept Mr. Derrick’s challenge and step forward. I enter the edge of the circle and pick up the wooden sword, swinging it in a figure-eight and crossing my body from right to left. My muscles are warm, heated by anger, and the sword is light in my hands.

Mr. Derrick holds his weapon in one hand, his arm away from his body. His stance is cocky, and foolish. He will learn this soon enough.

Hopping several steps and adding to his frog-like appearance, he advances, swiping his blade at me in sloppy, lopsided arcs. I sidestep him with ease then raise my weapon, toying with him. He snarls, revealing yellowing teeth when our wooden blades connect and I effortlessly deflect his feeble attempt to knock me in my temple.

Thoroughly incensed by the ease with which I avert him, he starts taking heated, wild swipes, slashing at me as if he holds a sword and is trying to clear tall brush. I spin to my right, turning so that I’m behind him, and lunge, striking the back of his head with my weapon. “Dead!” I shout.

Mr. Derrick groans and stumbles forward, nearly losing his footing. The room erupts in chatter. Faces are etched in shock. All except for Will, Sarah and Tom. Tom’s head is lowered and Sarah’s is buried against Will’s shoulder. Will looks away, his eyes cast to Sully who’s on his feet and beaming.

“Again!” Mr. Derrick has regained his footing and is circling once more. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaces, looking disheveled.

We square off. He assumes what he believes is a fighting stance, while I’ve maintained mine all along. He charges, storming me with a deranged look I’ve never seen a human wear. “Ahh!” he cries nasally as he hefts his sword overhead and moves to skull me.

I drop to one knee and slide, striking him in his stomach before I’m clear of his attack. “Dead!” I bark.

Mr. Derrick holds his torso for a moment then whirls to face me. His expression is feral. He’s in a full rage. He storms toward me in a blur of flailing arms and flushed skin. No longer sparring for the sake of teaching, he intends to hurt me.

I defend myself, fending off swing after swing, until he leaves his left side open. He’s left so many parts of his body vulnerable to attack I have trouble choosing which one to exploit. I settle on his left flank and strike his ribs hard. He immediately grabs his side, which is undoubtedly throbbing, and he drops to his knees. And when he does, I smack him in the face with my sword.

“Dead!” I yell for the benefit of onlookers. Cheers erupt. Children of all ages are on their feet clapping and shouting. I’m vaguely aware of the word “Azlyn” rising and falling among the tide of exuberance. While the commotion is under way, I bend and hiss, “You need to find a better way to teach these kids.”

After several moments of applauding, Mr. Derrick sits up slowly. “Class is over. Go!” He waves in defeat, humiliation seeping from every pore.

I drop the wooden sword I clutch and make my way to Sully, Jericho, Will, Sarah and Tom. Everyone looks exceedingly concerned save for Sully and Jericho.

He leads us out of the self-defense classroom and into the hallway. I grab him by the arm and he turns to face me. “Sully, what’s Azlyn? I heard it again in there. What does it mean? You said it’s a children’s story, but I don’t understand.”

“It’s from a children’s storybook that’s now banned down here. But the story is still told to children.”

“The story’s about a girl with blonde hair who leads the children of the underground city to the surface and defeats the Urthmen. She leads humankind back to power.”

“Well, they’ve never seen anything like this before.” He lifts a ringlet of my pale-blonde hair and wraps it around his finger.

Catching my breath and reeling a bit from the sudden barrage of questions and unfamiliar faces so close to mine, I take a deep breath and a step back. “We all lived aboveground.” I gesture among Sully, Jericho, Will, Sarah and Tom. “And if we didn’t know how to fight, we’d be dead.”

“You’ve fought Urthmen?” The boy in front of me has his mouth ajar. His eyes are wide.

“Of course, we didn’t have a choice. It’s part of life up there,” I say and point overhead.

“Some of us were slaves,” she replies and drops her gaze to her feet. Her brother lowers his eyes, too.

My pity is short-lived when Will grabs my upper arm and spins me in his direction. He pulls me to the side, a haunted look creating lines around his eyes. “Avery, this is exactly what President Sullivan warned us about. You putting on a show and telling these kids about how great it is fighting for our lives is exactly what’s going to get us thrown out.” His tone is harsh. His eyes flash with fear-filled annoyance. It’s difficult to listen past it and truly hear what he’s saying, but I force myself to. And while I’m loath to admit it, I know he’s right.

Slowly, I nod. “You’re right,” I concede. “You’re right. I don’t want to get us kicked out. June, Riley and Oliver, they need this place. They’ll do well here.”

“And so will we,” he adds, his voice softer. He releases my arm and steps back. “All of us have a chance at a real life here, a future that doesn’t include running from Urthmen or bloodthirsty beasts in the forest. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

His point has been made. He isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, yet somehow, hearing him say the words, out loud, punctuates the point radically.

I return to the group of children and explain to them how hard life is aboveground and how lucky they are to be safe and with their families. They listen, rapt, and when I’m finished, I am confident I’ve impressed upon them the importance of appreciating what they have and where they are.

The rest of my day is spent attending classes and behaving myself in a manner I imagine President Sullivan would approve of. By the end of the time classes are over and I return to my room, I’m exhausted, only unlike exhaustion born of hunting and hiking all day, which causes my muscles to burn from exertion, today, my legs feel leaden from underuse. Sitting all day is foreign to me. Aches worm their way into my joints and my temples throb from the overload of information thrown at me. Seeing June’s face brightens my day immediately.

Fast asleep and curled in a ball on her bed, it’s obvious she had a long, tiring day, as well. I decide not to wake her until dinner and stretch out on my own bed. As I lie with my arms folded behind my head, I hope my actions today in the self-defense classroom do not come back to hurt us. Although I don’t regret teaching Mr. Derrick what I believe was a well-earned, well-deserved lesson in humility, being the reason my sister and the others are forced from New Washington was not part of my goal. They deserve safety, comfort, and the possibilities of what lies ahead for them, even if I’m not a part of them.

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep or what time it is, only that I fell asleep shortly after dinner, when a hand claps across my lips, firm fingers biting into the skin around my mouth. Startled awake, my eyes snap open. Bleary and unfocused at first, they struggle against the thick blanket of darkness coating my room. My heart gallops madly as if I’ve just sprinted up a steep hill. Only no hill has been scaled. I am flat on my back with a hand clamping my mouth. My eyes dart from side to side. I strain to scan my surroundings. I’m able to make out two large shapes, inky and imposing against the dimness of the room. I start to sit up, contracting my abdominal muscles and lurching forward, but am halted by hands that pin a leg and arm on either side of my body to the bed, and a voice at my ear. “You don’t want to wake June and scare her so don’t make a sound.” The voice is low, and though no threat of violence has been issued, it quivers with the promise of danger.

I freeze as the gravity of the situation settles over me. My heart leaps from my chest to my throat. Strangers are in my room, dangerously close to my sister. Every muscle in my body tenses. Innumerable thoughts race through my brain. I attempt to writhe inasmuch as I can, but am met with resistance; and the voice in my ear.

“Be still, Avery.” Warning slithers through his words with serpentine deliberateness. “President Sullivan wants to speak with you.” The male voice commands.

A fine sheen of sweat breaks out on my body and I feel the color drain from my face. President Sullivan wants to speak with me. He sent his henchmen out in the middle of the night to retrieve me. This is not a social call. I’ll be brought to the president to answer for my behavior.

Dread courses through my veins and pumps in time with my chaotic heartbeat. My throat constricts and my eyes burn. I can’t believe I’ve done this to June. I can’t believe I allowed my reflexive need to teach Mr. Derrick a lesson to prevail. The consequences of my behavior have yet to be revealed, but I’m certain they’ll be dire.

I nod in agreement. I’ve already destroyed June’s life. The least I can do is allow her uninterrupted sleep for the next hour or so.

The hulking forms lift me off the bed and transport me to the door. Once they place me on my feet and see that I’m cooperating, they escort me. A man is positioned on both sides, each clutching the upper portion of my arm tightly and another, the one I presumed did all the talking, leads the way.

I do not turn to see the faces of the men handling me. I don’t dare attempt to worsen an already awful situation. All I’m able to see in my periphery is that the men are tall and broad, not nearly as tall and broad as Jericho, but close. The man walking ahead of us has considerable height as well, but is leaner.

Swallowing hard, I decide to ask them a question that’s burning in my mind. “What’s the reason for grabbing me in the middle of the night?” I try to sound as calm and peaceable as possible. It’s a struggle. I’d like nothing more than to shout and fight every step of the way, and would, were it not for June and the others.

“I already told you,” the man in front of us says with cool indifference, never breaking stride.

“But if you’re going to throw me out, why not just do it? That is after my sword is returned to me.” Keeping the argumentative edge from my voice is close to impossible. I want to scream but manage to speak calmly. “What’s the point of dragging me to the president’s castle when I’m getting kicked out? Why bother with all the pageantry, the middle of the night visit?”

“I’m not throwing you out, yet.” The man replies and emphasizes the word “yet.”

Yet. So I’ll be lugged to President Sullivan’s residence, lectured and yelled at, and then have the distinct displeasure of being returned to the surface with my sister and friends. I wonder whether that is how the situation will play out. It certainly seems as though that’s the direction in which it’s heading.

Interaction between me and the men ceases as I am ushered down a long dreary hallway lined with doors then through an equally dreary tunnel that seems never-ending and impossibly narrow.

Just when I’m about to beg them to run so that we can exit the claustrophobic passageway as soon as humanly possible, the walls widen and the ceiling lifts. Gray and brown stone gives way to crisp, bright beige walls. Warm light shines from up ahead, and the scent of freshly baked bread permeates the air. I know we’ve left the area in which June and I stay, that the general population ward is far behind us. We are in Washington Central.

Stepping out into the soft light cast by lampposts that line the street, the difference between this area and the other is glaring. In only two days’ time, I managed to forget the picturesqueness of the landscape. Here, attractive structures built of rock are lit cozily from within and cobbled stone glistens, it’s glimmer is highlighted by the tall lamps that glow every hundred or so feet. It’s a far cry from the soot-covered factories that line the streets on the other side of the city, that’s for sure. The sight of it makes me feel inexplicably angry.

Passing the increasingly larger buildings, we reach a set of ornate iron gates. The man leading us pushes a button on a small metal box and a voice crackles from it. “Yes?” the voice demands?

The man replies, “I have Avery.” The gates part, as if commanded by his statement, and the President’s castle of stone menaces on the crest above us.

Rising and soaring as far as I’m capable of seeing, the castle instills an instinctive sensation of distress in me. My mouth goes dry and my heart resumes its fitful pounding. The building teems with hostility that is almost palpable.

The three men and I enter through the same heavy door I entered the first time I was brought here by Opal. A space filled with polished, shiny articles greets us, and our shoes move soundlessly over gleaming floors. We climb a wide, curved staircase to the second floor and follow a lavish hallway to a door I recognize.

A winged bird in flight with its lethal talons poised to attack and its beak wide is carved into rich, dark wood. It is ringed in gold; an emblem I assume represents the President.

The man raps on the door, and a deep voice rumbles from the other side. “Enter,” President Sullivan orders.

President Sullivan is seated behind his enormous wooden desk, his mostly gray hair and tailored suit impeccable despite the late hour.

“Sit down,” he commands and points to a mahogany-hued chair with overstuffed padding the second I step inside. Then to the three men, he says, “Leave.”

The two men gripping my arms release me and do as they’re told. I sink into the chair and watch as the thin man does a half-bow then turns and exits in a slightly more theatrical fashion than his cohorts did.

Once they are gone and the door is shut, President Sullivan’s frosty gaze falls on me. “What did I tell you about my expectations regarding your behavior?”

I part my lips to speak but close them at once when he leans forward, boring a hole in my head with harsh eyes.

“You were told to behave as all citizens of New Washington behave. Those were Presidential orders, clear and concise.”

“I’m sorry.” The words spring from my mouth unexpectedly. “But that teacher was abusing—”

President Sullivan strikes his desk with the palm of his hand. “He is a respected teacher and resident of Washington Central! He’s allowed to use any methods he sees fit to teach the children to defend themselves!” High color stains his cheeks and veins near his temples bulge.

“That’s not for you to decide!” he screams, his complexion deepening to an unhealthy purple. Every tense cord in his throat is visible. He looks as though he’s about to erupt lava like a volcano.

“I’m sorry,” I say. And while I’m not sorry for what I did to Mr. Derrick, I am sorry for what it’s leading to. All I can think of is June.

President Sullivan closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his long, aquiline nose. He inhales then sighs heavily. When he opens his eyes, he forms a steeple with his fingers, holding them in front of him. “At first, I was going to just have my guards throw you out into the desert tonight and be done with it,” he says in a measured voice. He pauses for a moment, pursing his thin lips and studying his hands. “But then I reconsidered.” He leans back and interlaces his fingers across his chest, looking at me with incomparable smugness. “I decided to have your sister removed and lock you in the city’s detention center.”

My stomach plummets to my feet, fear bleeding me of my breath. I rocket to my feet. “What have you done?” My voice is raw and feral, foreign to my ears. If he tells me June has been returned to the desert alone I will kill him where he stands. My eyes land on a sharp, bladelike object with an ornate gold handle. I’ll swipe it and plunge it into his heart to its hilt if he has. I’m already envisioning how it will take place when his voice snaps me from my vengeful thoughts.

“Relax. She’s safe, for now,” he threatens and stresses the words “for now.” He speaks with the calculated deliberateness of a man accustomed to power, to getting exactly what he wants when he wants it. I find him contemptible. “But the only reason she is, is because you are going to do something for me. And if you don’t, I will throw her out alone.”

Biting back the tempestuous rise of bile burning through me, I ask, “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get my son to move back home to Washington Central and get on board with his destiny. He should be the future leader of New Washington.”

“Don’t be naive, Avery. “I’m sure he told you how things work here. It’s for the good of the people.”

“No, Sully was born just before illness claimed my wife, and I have no intention of suffering through another marriage.” President Sullivan waves his hand as if fanning an offensive odor at the notion of starting a new relationship and additional children.

He huffs, scoffing at what I’ve said self-righteously. “No, you don’t. But if you want the children to be recognized as legitimate you do.” He narrows his eyes and shakes his head at me as though I’m too foolish to even bother wasting his breath. I mirror his expression and he leans back. Smoothing his hands down the front of his dark coat, he draws in a breath then releases it. “Sully is my heir, and I can tell he listens to you, that he respects your opinion.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I tip my chin and ask, “What makes you so sure about that?”

A sly, self-satisfied smile carves his face. “I’ve been watching; that’s what makes me so sure.”

“This is my city. Don’t ever forget that, young lady.” He curls his fingers and glances at the nails on one hand. “You needn’t worry yourself over when and where I watch you. Just know I’m always doing it.” He scowls at me. “Focus on convincing my son instead, because if you don’t you know what’s going to happen.” His gaze lifts from his fingernails and settles on me.

I lower my chin to my chest and close my eyes, contemplating a choice given to me for which a decision does not need to be made. I’ll die before seeing my sister banished from New Washington, despite the many misgivings I have about manipulating Sully, if he can be manipulated. I doubt he can be. Either way, I will do as his father has asked to spare June, at least until I can come up with another option, a solution that safeguards all of us and involves me telling Sully the truth. It’ll be a challenge now, knowing that there are eyes on me at all times. But I will find a way to inform Sully of his father’s intentions.

Licking my lips, I start to raise my head. It feels heavy, as if weighted by the world itself. I stare into the eyes of a man I deem a detestable bug I long to squash beneath my booted foot. “I’ll do whatever you want,” I tell him. “Just please, leave my sister alone.”

A calculating smile lifts one side of his mouth, the expression so painfully familiar I touch my hand to my heart. Only President Sullivan’s smile is not filled with playful mirth as his son’s is. His is cruel, sinister. Wordlessly, he depresses a button that emits a buzzing sound. The henchmen who escorted me to the castle enter the room and yank me from my chair. They whisk me out of President Sullivan’s sight and out of Washington Central, returning me to my room and leaving before my mind can fully process all that’s happened.

I move to June’s bed and watch over her. She’s still sleeping, her deep, even breaths a welcome sound. Her eyelids flutter. I can only hope she’s dreaming of the life she’ll have here, safe and sound in New Washington.

Turning, I stand before the foot of my bed. My knees give way from beneath me, and I collapse to the mattress. I’m exhausted in every possible sense of the word. Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and rake my hands through my hair, massaging my scalp. A sob unexpectedly racks my body, then another, and another, until tears stream from my eyes. Twisting and grabbing the pillow at the head of the bed, I shove my face into it and try to purge myself of the trauma of being ripped from a deep sleep, and then from my bed, by strangers and dragged to President Sullivan’s office to have my sister’s well-being threatened one tear at a time. But it doesn’t work. Crying doesn’t help. The fact still remains that June’s happiness, her security, her welfare, is in jeopardy. And I’m the only person standing between her and that threat.

June is in the shower when a soft knock at the door sets my nerves on edge. After my middle of the night visitors apprehended me, I no longer feel safe in the confines of my own room. Cautiously, I spring form my bed and move to the door. “Who is it?” I demand.

Relief washes over me. After shoving a thick curl out of my eyes, I immediately twist the handle and pull the door toward me. “Hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” I look past him, out into the hallway. He’s alone and there doesn’t appear to be a commotion anywhere in sight.

“Sheesh, Avery. Relax. Everything’s fine.” Teasing laughter glints in the depths of his molten brown eyes before he brushes past me and steps into my room.

I want more than anything else to tell him about last night, about his father’s threat, but I can’t; not yet at least. Fire churns in my gut, the memory of the President’s smug assurance still fresh in my mind.

I’m vaguely aware that he’s called my name and that I’ve failed to acknowledge him. Exhaustion has collided with supreme annoyance and rendered me unresponsive for a fleeting moment.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sully brushes a wayward tendril from my forehead then lightly grips my upper arms. He’s close, so close I smell the scent of his soap, but his proximity is welcome.

“Oh, uh nothing,” I fumble. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” And that’s the truth. An understatement, yes, but still the truth.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Sully takes a step backward. “Is it the bed?” He brushes past me and plops down on my bed.

“Can’t be the bed,” he continues with the conversation he seems to be having with just himself. “The mattress feels just like mine: lumpy and thin.” He turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow, but promptly lowers his face and sniffs the cushiony surface. “Smells kind of musty like mine too,” he adds and crinkles his nose.

“Sorry.” I rub my forehead. “That was rude. I’m just really tired.” A recount of the entire scene that transpired with his father and henchmen he sent for me is on my tongue, burning with need for release.

“No worries.” He shrugs one shoulder the sits upright. “Listen, I came here this morning to ask for a favor.”

“Some friends of mine that I grew up with from Washington Central want to get together with me tonight. They’re all excited that I’m back.”

“That’s nice.” I bob my head, happy for him and wait for him to explain how a favor from me comes into play. When he doesn’t, I ask. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, right, I forgot to ask. I want you to come with me. Will you come with me?”

“What do you need me for?” The words slip out before I have time to think them through. Of course I’ll go with him. Sully has saved me more than once. I owe him my life.

“It would just be easier for me if you’re there. The people we’re going to see, my old friends, they don’t understand why I left and why I think this place is wrong. Maybe you could help.”

“So you want me to help convince them they’re wrong? That might cause problems, don’t you think.”

Sully rakes his hand through his hair. Sandy blonde tufts tipped in platinum as fair as the outer layer of my hair are ruffled, leaving him appearing younger and more vulnerable looking than I’m used to seeing him. I smile reflexively.

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “No, I guess not. But I want you with me.” His eyes lock on mine and a faint tremor skims the length of my spine.

“Sure, no problem.” I hear the patter of water from the shower come to a stop. June will be out soon. I’m sure she won’t appreciate Sully’s presence when her hair is wet and her skin is pink from scrubbing. I’m about to usher Sully to the door when a question pops into my mind. “Sully, am I allowed to go to Washington Central socially?” When we traveled through the tunnels, Opal was with us, but I vaguely remember people posted at various positions along the way. At the time, I’d gotten the impression that they were guards of some sort. Who or what they guarded was unclear at the time, especially since the only threat I could think of was aboveground.

Sully holds my gaze. He looks equal parts surprised and impressed. “I got you a pass. I already have one.” He looks at his shoes sheepishly.

“A pass? I need a pass to visit Washington Central?” Suddenly, the men who were stationed at regular intervals make sense. They weren’t guarding the people of New Washington from threats from above. They were shielding the people of Washington Central from the general population, or GenPop as Sully refers to us.

“Yeah,” Sully says apologetically. “It’s yet another aspect of this place that makes my skin crawl.”

“You and me both,” I agree and nod somberly. Comfortable silence stretches between us for several beats before I ask, “What time are we meeting your friends?”

“Uh, seven thirty I think. I’ll come by here and get you at seven. June can stay with Jericho. I already spoke to him about it.”

“She’d be fine alone in her room, too. No night creatures and no Urthmen makes for a pretty safe stay here.”

That’s what you think, I want to tell him, but I do not dare. June’s life is on the line. Instead, I reply, “That’s true.”

“Great, so I’ll see you at seven?” His smile is wide and warm. I can’t help but smile in return.

I walk Sully to the door and he says good-bye to me as if he isn’t going to see me for the rest of the day. In reality, I’ll see him in about ten minutes. I giggle to myself after the door is shut. June steps out of the bathroom and sees me giggling.

“What about Sully?” Her sudden interest is sweet. I know she idolizes him, perhaps even has a crush on him. Either way, I don’t want to upset her, so I don’t tell her about going to Washington Central with him. I’ll tell her later, after classes.

“Oh, nothing really. He just stopped by to ask me a question.” It’s the truth. He did stop by just to ask a question.

June doesn’t probe, a fact I’m grateful for. I don’t want to lie to my sister. After the night I had, I’d prefer to start the day as calmly as possible, that’s all. She puts on her socks and shoes then kisses my cheek. “Riley and I need to get to class, and so do you. Let’s get going.”

I nod and gesture for her to lead the way. We meet up with the others. Will barely acknowledges me and stays close to Sarah as we walk down the long hallway. The sting of seeing them together has reduced to a dull ache. The low rumble of their chatter is interrupted by outbursts of laughter; mostly Sarah’s giggling fits that precede her pawing at his arm. The rest of the day progresses in the same manner. I attend my classes listen intently and behave myself, and see with clarity that is nearly blinding that something more than friendship exists between Will and Sarah. Sully disappears before the last course begins. I wonder where he’s gone and envy him for getting away. I only hope his father’s men haven’t summoned him the way they summoned me. When he rejoins our group as we make our way back to our rooms, I suppress the urge to jump for joy. He seems unharmed and in remarkably good spirits. I’m left to assume that wherever he was, he was doing something he enjoyed.

He tips his chin and looks as if he can barely contain the smile threatening to split his face. “That’s a surprise.”

“What’s a surprise? And why do you look so, I don’t know, happy, or maybe guilty is a better word?”

He presses his lips together tightly and makes a gesture as if he’s zipping them closed.

I want to smack him in the arm then shake him until he tells me, but seeing Sarah act similarly stops me dead in my tracks. I shrug and say, “Whatever. Keep your secret. I don’t care.”

Undaunted, Sully’s smile resumes, and my attempt to ignore him wavers. I mirror his expression until we reach the section of the hallway where our rooms are. “See you at seven,” Sully says before slipping into his room.

“Oh, um, well, I’m going out tonight,” I say as I slide my keycard into the slot. The handle turns and I push the door. June passes me and steps into our room.

“Where and with who?” June asks, though I’m relatively certain she’s already made the connection that Sully and I have plans.

“Come on, June, you heard what Sully said,” I say as I nearly trip over a large, rectangular box just inside the doorway. “What the heck?” I eye the package suspiciously.

In a way, I wish I shared her optimism. I’d love to know what it feels like to be unencumbered by constant worry, by the knowledge that most creatures, human or otherwise, would just as soon step on you rather than around you. Unfortunately, that much liberty would’ve likely gotten me killed long ago.

I lick my lips and kneel, placing my ear to the box before turning it. I do not hear any sounds coming from it, and it is light when I lift it.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” June stomps to the package and tears it open with ferocity that frightens me and makes me proud at the same time.

“Whoa, hold on.” I try to stop her, but her hands have left the box and are covering her mouth. “Oh my gosh,” she says from behind them.

“What? What is it?” I worry a head is inside, or another gory limb. “Just don’t look at it. Back away,” I urge her, but she doesn’t listen. She thrusts both hands inside and yanks at the contents of the box. Flimsy, nearly transparent paper falls to the side, along with two, slipper-like shoes, as she pulls an item from it. Unfurling it, she holds a garment.

“It’s a dress, a beautiful dress.” She sniffles, her eyes shining with emotion. She passes it to me. Softer than any material I’ve ever touched and in a color that matches the blue of a forget-me-not patch I saw in the meadow by our cave, the dress makes my insides flutter strangely. I raise it to my face, inhaling the flowery fragrance that’s seems to be woven into the fabric. June’s voice drifts toward me. “These are the shoes that go with it.” She holds a pair of delicate shoes that will barely cover my feet. “And there’s a note, too.” She bends and retrieves a small piece of paper. “It’s from Sully.” She looks confused momentarily. Her smile quivers as she begins reading. “It says ‘This is for you to wear tonight.’ Avery, he wants you to wear this on your date with him tonight.”

I do not miss that she says the word “date” with a degree of anger. “Date, June, really? Trust me, it’s not a date.

“Well it sure sounds like a date to me, she huffs heatedly.” Her cheeks are scarlet and her nostrils flare. She’s jealous. It’s obvious and confirms my suspicion that she has affection for Sully.

“He’s meeting up with old friends of his from Washington Central and wants me there as a buffer.”

“A kind of cushion, you know. His friends don’t understand why he left, why anyone would want to leave here. But I do, and he wants me with him for support.”

“June, we’re friends. I’m going to make him feel a bit more comfortable. That’s it.”

My words appear to calm her somewhat. Her complexion returns to normal and her features relax.

“I won’t be gone long, and while I’m out, Jericho said he’ll look after you. You can hang out with him.”

“Jericho? Why would he need to look after me? I can just stay here by myself.”

“Avery, we’re safe here. No one’s coming—no Lurkers, no Urthmen, no bad guys. I’ll be fine alone.” She rolls her shoulders back and straightens her posture. “Besides, I have a lot of homework.” She points to a small pile of books she dropped on her bed without me noticing. Among them is a small paperback with a rodent on the front. “I’m reading a book about a hamster that goes on all sorts of adventures. It’s a type of work called fiction. That means the writing didn’t really happen. It’s just a book that’s fun to read.” She bobs her shoulder. “I’ve never read a book before. I’m kind of excited to get started.”

Hesitantly, I agree. “Fine. You’ve persuaded me. You can stay by yourself.” I don’t like it, but I suppose her staying here all night is far safer than spending the day alone at the cave when we lived in the forest. It, too, was inhabited by scary creatures, only the ones in the forest were easier to identify than the ones here in New Washington.

Dinner is announced via the television screen mounted on the wall. I go to the cafeteria with June and choke down the unappetizing slop spooned onto my tray. Will and Sarah arrive later than Tom, Oliver, Riley, and Jericho. I’m growing acutely aware of their connection with every encounter. They seem to exist in a world that doesn’t include anyone else, least of all me. Though the knowledge of that doesn’t make me happy, the dull ache is lessening little by little, replaced with acceptance. I’m resigned to endure it for what it is. President Sullivan’s threats fill my thoughts enough to crowd out much else.

With President Sullivan in mind, I wonder where Sully is. Just when I’m about to ask, though, I see him stroll into the room. He casually picks up a tray, is served his food and joins us. He doesn’t mention the gift or how it got inside my room. I remain silent, as well, and reluctant to bring it up in front of the others.

We eat quickly then return to our rooms. Before I enter mine, I look over my shoulder and glimpse Sully smirking. I shake my head at him, fighting the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. I look away and he disappears inside.

Once in my room, I shower. When I’ve finished and am dry, I eye the dress Sully left for me. Swallowing hard I lift it then pull it over my head. The material feels like the silk of a spider’s web. Gauzy and light, the fabric hugs every curve I have and falls only to the middle of my thighs. I feel as if little stands between my naked self and, well, the world. I wonder whether I look indecent as I slip the shoes onto my feet and marvel at how lightweight they are. I squeeze my damp hair with a towel and allow it to spill over my shoulders and down my back, and then step out of the bathroom.

June looks up from her book for a split second then returns her gaze to her work. I’m momentarily crestfallen that she didn’t give a reaction one way or another. But when her head whips back up and her jaw drops, I’m left wishing things had remained as they’d been seconds ago. I clear my throat and fidget nervously.

“You, you’re wow,” she exclaims. “You look amazing, Avery. You’re so beautiful!” She stands and bounces up and down while clapping.

Blushing I smooth my hands down the front of my dress. “You think so?” I ask nervously.

“I know so.” Her smile collapses abruptly. “And so will Sully.” She flops back down onto the bed and covers her face with both hands.

As I move toward her bed to comfort her, there’s a knock at the door. I glance at the numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of the television screen and see that it’s exactly seven o’clock. He’s right on time.

“Oh just answer it. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” June mutters from behind her hands.

With a trembling hand, I reach for the door and twist the knob. I pull it inward and there, framed in the doorway, is a man I barely recognize. Dressed in a dark shirt that buttons down the front and highlights his broad shoulders and tapered waist with its fit, and dark pants and shoes, Sully looks striking. His hair looks shorter and neater than I’ve ever seen it. I realize I’m staring at him with my mouth agape and snap my lips shut. “Hi,” I barely manage.

A long pause passes between us. His wide-eyed gaze travels the length of my body appreciatively, his lips parted. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly then blinks before his eyes lock on mine. Pink colors his cheeks. “Hi,” he says, and for the first time since I’ve met him, he seems nervous.

As if waking from a dream, he shakes his head again and focuses on her. “What?” he asks with a tiny tremor in his voice.

Clearing his throat and shifting his weight from one leg to the next, he replies, “Date? What? No! No way.” He rumples his face as if he’s smelled an offensive odor. Then he smiles down at her and touches his index finger to the tip of her nose. “I just have to meet with some boring old friends and need a pal with me. I’d bring you, but you have to be at least seventeen to get into some of the places we’re going. Are you seventeen yet?” His eyes sparkle with charm.

“Darn it.” Sully snaps his fingers and frowns. “Well, maybe next time then, okay?”

“In the meantime, make sure you study hard and read your books. Be beautiful and smart.”

“You got it,” she says before she zips past me to her bed. My hearts feels as if it’s tripled in size when I watch their interaction, how he treats her with such consideration, such tenderness. “Bye, guys! Have fun!” she calls out to us.

I look over my shoulder at her. “Be safe June. Do not open this door for anyone. Understand?”

“Love you, too,” she replies. Then she silently mouths, “You look beautiful,” and gives me a thumbs-up.

I return my attention to Sully and my heart stumbles like a clumsy runner. His strong square jaw is free of stubble and looks soft and inviting. I have to consciously keep from reaching out and tracing my finger along it. The smoothness of his skin draws attention to his lips, how wide and full they are.

As if reading my thoughts, he licks his lips and smiles his signature half-smile. “Ready to go?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say and step out into the hallway. I’m immediately greeted by the scent of soap and mint and another spicy note I can’t place. I don’t know what it is, but it’s coming from Sully, and I find myself drawn to it.

“You look, uh,” he scratches the back of his head then splays his hands at his sides. “You look beautiful.” I do not miss that he’s a tad breathless, a fact that makes my insides buzz like a hive of bees.

“The dress is stunning. Where’d you get it? How’d you know this one would fit me?”

“I got the dress at a shop in Washington Central.” He jams his hands in the front pockets of his pants and watches his feet as they take turns hitting the stone floor. “I liked the color and thought it would bring out the flecks of blue in your eyes. I just guessed the size.” He clears his throat and steals a sidelong glance at me. “I skipped the last class of the day and put it on my dad’s account.” He chuckles. “I think it looks much better on you than it would on him, though.”

Heat creeps up my neck and I’m sure my cheeks blaze. “Thanks, I think,” I say nervously.

We continue along in the tunnel until darkness and dankness transitions to brightness and warmth. Four times along the way, we are stopped and asked to show our passes. The fifth time it happens, I comment to Sully, “Wow, they’re really paranoid that people from our side of the city will sneak into Washington central, huh?”

“What would ever give you that idea?” he asks and rolls his eye. “They’re terrified of it. You can see why. I mean, look around.” We’ve turned down a side street amble along a cobbled pathway glittering under the lamplight above. Impressive stone structures with skillfully carved windows glow and people wearing clothes like ours stroll at a leisurely pace.

“Yeah, tell me about it. In GenPop, no one has time to slow down and visit eateries and shops. They’re too busy working so their kids can go to school and so their measly room isn’t given away to someone else.”

I shake my head sadly. The disparity is glaring, and painful. By now, the people of GenPop are in their rooms. There aren’t any shops or eateries to visit. And because we’re required to rise so early, being out as late as we are already will guarantee exhaustion the next day. From being kidnapped in the middle of the night and the current late hour, it’s a wonder I’m still standing. Adrenaline and excitement are the only factors fueling me.

We’re standing outside a smooth building composed of sleek, buttery stone so glossy and golden I can see my reflection in it.

As I cross the threshold ahead of him, he lightly places his hand on the small of my back, reassuring me that he’s still with me. Fingertips that barely graze the gossamer fabric of my dress cause a wave of tingles to whisper across my flesh. My insides are suddenly jittery, my legs wobbly. He appears beside me; his hand still barely brushes my back, and leads me inside through an arched doorway. My eyes widen. The interior is breathtaking. Iron sconces with candles hang from beams, and decorative fixtures with branched parts that hold candles dangle over coved tables filled with fruits and vegetables, meats, and glasses filled with ruby-red liquid. The clink and tinkle of plates and utensils is a background melody to the rolling hum of conversation. The buzz and jingle is as lovely as the décor, which is gold and white and matches the exterior.

A part of me feels as though I’ve stepped into an alternate universe. I’m about to say as much when Sully says, “There they are.” He clips his head to the right to where a group of three young men and three young women sit. They see him and begin waving.

“Sully!” a woman with chin-length hair as shiny and smooth as volcanic glass stands and squeals. “I can’t believe you’re here! You look great! How are you?”

“Whoa, Kim, calm down,” a young man with the palest skin I’ve ever seen comments with a chuckle. His black hair is slicked back and appears wet and contrasts his pallid complexion. “Give the man some space.” Eyes that are nearly as black as his hair land on me. “And let him introduce us to his friend.”

A series of greetings come my way. I smile and acknowledge them with an uncomfortable wave.

“I’m Kim,” the girl with the jaw-skimming hair says. “And this is Aiden,” she gestures to the pale man with the slicked back hair. Kim takes both of my hands in hers and gives a gentle squeeze. They are extraordinarily soft, and I notice that her nails are colored a gleaming shade of red.

“Wow, your nails,” I say, and as soon as the words leave my lips, Kim begins speaking so quickly I have to focus to follow what she’s saying.

“Oh my gosh. Thank you so much for noticing. I got them done today. I used to get them done at a place over on Gilded Street, but the girls there were, I don’t know, there was a vibe, you know? The place was all drab and dull and so close to the border, near the tunnel that leads to—”

Aiden clears his throat loudly and interrupts Kim’s rambling. “Kim, why don’t you introduce Avery to the rest of our group and let them sit down?”

Rosiness touches Kim’s cheeks and she steps back. “Sorry,” she says. “This is Jared,” she gestures to another dark-haired man with hair that brushes his collar, “And his girlfriend Denise.” Denise gives a limp wave before brushing a length of chestnut hair off her shoulder. “Ugh, her and that hair,” Kim leans in and whisper to me. “She just bought it a week ago and she can’t stop flaunting it.” I turn to face her, but she’s resumed smiling and pointing. “And this is Tanner and Cynthia,” she points to a couple dressed in matching shades of blood-red with nearly identical porcelain skin and sable eyes.

I’m still reeling from the lavish furnishings and overabundance of food. Associating six new names with six new faces and committing all to memory challenges me more so than usual.

Kim gives Sully a quick peck on the cheek and says, “It’s so good to see you,” before returning to her seat beside Aiden.

Sully pulls out a chair for me and I sit. He sits beside me, so close our legs brush.

“Let me order you something to drink,” Tanner says and smiles complacently. With his brow furrowed and a small frown creasing his mouth, his eyes dart among the tables arranged throughout the room. I wonder what he’s looking for and turn around, searching for something out of the ordinary. To me, everything’s out of the ordinary. All I see is a sea of people dressed in brightly colored clothes seated at tables that fairly overflow with food. It is nothing like the cafeteria in which I eat, and the rainbow of colors are a dramatic departure from the all-white jumpsuits we wear. “Avery, please tell me if you see one of those white jumpsuits,” Tanner says. For a moment, I’m startled and certain my thoughts are echoing out of my head. “I guess our server must’ve gotten lost or something,” he adds with mild annoyance.

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Denise adds and tosses her head back. Her tone is not bitter, just matter-of-fact, a detail that makes me bristle.

Suddenly, Tanners eyes widen. “Oh, there’s one! Excuse me!” He snaps his fingers.

A young man wearing a white jumpsuit identical to the one sitting on my bed right now comes to our table. He lowers his head submissively. “Yes, sir? How can I serve you?”

“I would like two glasses for our new guests and another bottle of red wine, the most expensive bottle you have.” Tanner beams, his smile triumphant, though I can’t understand why.

“Yes, sir. I’ll take care of that right away,” the server replies with a dutiful nod.

“Oh, and make sure the glasses are clean, okay? No spots,” Cynthia calls out.

“Even in a place as nice as this, you have to make sure to remind them of the small things,” Kim says and shakes her head with what can only be described as pity. Then she claps her crimson tipped hands together and says, “So, Sully, Aiden and I are engaged!” she announces and thrusts her left hand forward. A band of gold with an enormous sparkling stone at its center occupies one finger. “Ack! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Wow, that’s great new, guys. I’m so happy for you both,” Sully replies. His enthusiasm is forced, but only I appear to notice. Everyone else is just chattering at once.

“And you know Tanner and Cynthia got married two months ago, right?” Kim says to Sully.

Aiden speaks before Sully answers. “Uh, babe, remember? Sully wasn’t here,” he tries to remind Kim in a low voice.

“I still can’t believe you went aboveground to the surface,” Jared leans in and says solemnly.

“I know. What were you thinking? Leaving here where it’s safe and, well, wonderful, to go there.” She shivers and screws up her features.

Sully flicks his wrist nonchalantly. “Oh, I’ll tell you all about it another time.” He smiles, an expression that’s brittle, at best, but his friends don’t seem to notice. They’re too busy glancing around the room and waving, soaking up the opulent ambience. “I don’t want to ruin the night with details.”

“But it’s impolite to discuss such matters,” Aiden says with a wooden smile plastered on his face.

The server returns with long-stemmed glasses that glitter like stars. He places them in front of Sully and me. Then displays a long tubular container filled with dark liquid.

The bottle is opened and set on the table. Tanner dismisses the server. He fills our glasses, and then adds to everyone else’s.

I lean in close to Sully. “What is this?” I whisper as Denise, Cynthia, Kim, Aiden and Jared congratulate Tanner on a wonderful selection.

Casually, Sully stretches and settles his arm on the back of my chair. He tilts his head so that his lips almost brush my earlobe. Goosebumps race across my flesh when his hot breath caresses the shell of my ear. “Just sip it slowly and enjoy how it makes you feel.” He straightens but his eyes remain on mine. “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry,” he says with sincerity that makes my breathing hitch. A small smile plays upon his lips, but it isn’t his usual, naughty smirk. It is another expression entirely.

“So, getting back this business of you living in GenPop,” Kim returns our attention to her.

“Yeah, I mean, you aren’t one of them. You’re one of us,” Kim says flatly.

“I know, right?” Denise adds as she pets her long silky hair. “Don’t you want to get married, have a nice place to live, and a family? If you stay in GenPop all you’ll have is a small room and one child.”

“The people in GenPop can only have one child?” I surprise myself by interjecting and asking.

“One child only if it’s approved by the President’s staff and a license to birth is obtained in advance,” Cynthia adds.

My mind is dizzied, swirling in lopsided circles around what I’ve just heard. Suddenly parched, I lift my glass to my lips and take a long drink. Thick and with a flavor that’s similar to a spicy, under ripe berry, the liquid in my glass does little to quench my thirst. To the contrary, it burns down my throat and makes me wish I had water. “What happens if a pregnancy happens unexpectedly, without approval and a license?” I ask.

“That’s against the law,” Kim shakes her head and purses her lips disapprovingly. “The couple wouldn’t be allowed to keep it.”

Shock has silenced any further questions. I’m fuming, angry in a way I cannot remember ever being before. I hide it, though, for Sully’s sake. This is his night to visit with old friends.

I’m reminded of that fact when Cynthia says, “Why would you want to be a part of that. Come back home. We miss you!”

“Yes, do come back,” Tanner agrees. “And bring Avery. She’s not from Washington Central originally, but I’m sure your father would make an exception. He’s the President. He can do whatever he wants!” Tanner laughs, proud of what he thinks is a joke. I laugh only because I feel sorry for him. That charity comes to a screeching halt when he says, “Maybe you could even marry her!” He refers to me then laughs.

Six sets of eyes suddenly watch me. Nervous sips of wine are taken and after an uncomfortable pause, light conversation resumes. Most of it centers on memories and stories of their childhood. I smile when I’m supposed to smile and force laughter when necessary, but on the inside, I am a festering wound. Continually, comments that range from subtle to not-so-subtle are made and emphasize that the people at my table believe they are better than the people of GenPop. I glance at Sully and watch the way the muscles around his jaw flex and work. I see the small tick of his brow. He’s as annoyed as I am.

I’m grateful when our food arrives and the others are to busy stuffing their faces to talk. The food is amazing. I have no idea what I ordered other than the word chicken was included. A type of white meat that I’m told is raised for food in a section of the city, the chicken dish I’m eating is mild and tender and slathered in a light-brown sauce that is savory with a hint of sweetness. I continue to sip the wine and find myself growing increasingly relaxed.

After the plates are cleared and discussion of something called dessert begins, Sully nods to me knowingly and stands. “Well, I hate to break up the party, but we have to get back.”

“No, thank you. This has been wonderful, though, really,” Sully says. I hear the strained tension in his voice. They miss it, of course, but I don’t. I know him. I feel as he does. He reaches for his pocket and retrieves several bills with numbers on them. He drops them on the table. “It was great to see you.” He turns and takes my hand, and together, we walk away.

“Why would he do that? We have plenty of money.” Kim’s voice carries over the other conversations, but Sully doesn’t stop and he doesn’t turn.

He releases my hand when we step out of the eatery and tunnels both through his hair. “Wow,” he sighs.

“I know.” I shake my head. “But for what it’s worth, it was a nice evening even though your friends are . . . different.” I temper what I want to call them, which are a bunch of elitist snobs.

“Different,” he snorts. “There’s a word. If by different you mean jerks, then yes, they’re different all right.”

I toss my head back and laugh with abandon. I feel looser and less inhibited than normal. And it’s not an unpleasant sensation. “No argument here.” I hold my hands up in front of my chest in surrender.

We begin walking, navigating the labyrinth of pathways that bend around lovely building after lovely building. But the harder I look at them, the more they reflect the people I just met. I find myself being less and less impressed by them.

“Thanks again for coming.” Sully turns toward me. “Sorry I put you through that.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees. “And I got to see you looking so . . . beautiful.” After saying the word “beautiful” he looks away immediately.

Warmth swirls in my chest and branches to every part of me, coloring my cheeks. Sully walks beside me, so close our hands almost touch. Energy hums between them like an invisible force. If I were to stretch my fingers, they’d meet with his. Just contemplating it makes my stomach bottom out.

Following a cobbled path I don’t remember following on our way to Washington Central, I spot a courtyard ahead. Redolent with the heady scent of roses, benches are interspersed among white arches along which vines burst with blooms.

“The flowers,” I inhale deeply and remember times I spent in the field of wildflowers with June. “They smell so nice.” I close my eyes, and when I open them Sully is watching me. He’s smiling.

“I hate to tell you this because you’re enjoying them so much, but they’re artificial. The flowers are plastic.”

“Oh, right.” A small frown tugs the corners of my mouth downward. “Without sunlight, they’d never grow.”

“Right, and the smell is pumped in here through some kind of automatic atomizer. Sorry,” he says sheepishly.

“The only parts of this night I’ve truly enjoyed are the parts when we were alone.”

“Our passes are only good until morning, and I know I don’t have the right to ask anything more of you but, please, sit with me.” His russet eyes are unfathomable pools.

We find an empty bench and sit together. All around us, tender blossoms in an array of colors flourish, perfuming the air with their heady fragrances. We sit in silence for several moments, free of tension, free of pressure.

“Why don’t you move back here? You’d have a better life, dinners like the one we just had all the time, and the wine, of course,” I try to lighten my question. Truth of the matter is, it sickens me to think of him becoming like Tanner, Jared, and Aiden, becoming a part of Washington Central.

His lips press to a tight line and he shakes his head slowly. “Do you think I would ever do that? I left here because I couldn’t stand the separation between two parts of the same city and that humans were suffering aboveground. I needed to help. You think I could turn a blind eye to everything and everyone else and only care about myself?”

What he’s said is the core of who he is, and why I respect and admire him as I do.

“No, I don’t see you doing that,” I say then under my breath, I mutter, “We’re so alike.”

“Yes, we are,” he stuns me when he responds to my comment. “You always know what I’m thinking. We’re always on the same page.”

On the surface, his words are little more than an observation. But inside they resonate deep in my marrow. We are such similar creatures. I stand, suddenly beset by nerves so pronounced I shiver. Sully rises to his feet too. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” I touch my hand to my forehead, suddenly hot and cold simultaneously.

The fine hairs on my body raise and quiver at his touch. I look up at him. “It’s you, and me,” I babble. “I’m not making any sense.”

“No, you are.” He licks his lips. “It’s always been you and me. You’re who I want to be with,” he says tenderly. No games or confusion, no competition, he wants me. He sees what I see, believes what I believe. And he wants to be with me.

Standing as close as we are, I’m reminded of how tall and broad he is. I’ve spent so much time with Sully, but never really bothered to truly look at him. My thoughts had been so preoccupied with June and survival, and Will, there hadn’t been room for anything else. But as I gaze at Sully now, as I look upon his chiseled features, his short, tousled, sandy-colored hair that falls across his forehead and his piercing brown eyes fringed with long, dark lashes, I see something that I’ve never seen before. Reaching out, he touches a lock of my hair. He coils the curl around his finger and smiles. “These curls,” he chuckles nervously.

“My dad used to say my curls are my wild twisting out of my scalp.” I laugh at the memory.

“Maybe.” Sully shakes his head slowly. “Whatever it means, it’s beautiful. Your hair is beautiful. You’re beautiful.” His finger leaves my ringlet of hair and trails down my cheek, leaving a tingly path in its wake as it continues to my jaw.

The wild throb at the base of his neck is visible. It pounds in time with my heart when his hands grip my waist and pull me close. With infinitesimal slowness, he lowers his head, tilting it slightly to one side, until his lips hover above mine. My heartbeat races so frantically I fear it’ll break free of my ribcage. His warm breath feathers across my lips, and I rise onto my tiptoes to close as much distance as I can.

Unable to wait a second longer to taste his lips, I close my eyes and press my mouth to his. Instantly, his soft lips meld with mine, his heart thundering against my chest, and the world around us dissolves. A thrill of excitement bolts down my spine and my skin is claimed by pinpricks of exhilaration. He draws me closer, deepening our kiss, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

I do not pull away. I do not want to ever pull away. What’s happening feels comfortable, right; and better than anything I’ve ever experienced. Our kiss ends naturally and we hold each other for a long while. He plants kisses on my forehead again and again, swaying so gently I’m nearly lulled to sleep.

With heavy eyelids, I rest my cheek against his chest. His voice rumbles and echoes in my ear when he says, “We’d better get back. I’m sure it’s almost morning.” Regret saturates each word.

With a heavy heart, I nod. He interlaces his fingers with mine and we start walking, hand in hand. As we step out of the garden, I see two large men, guards I presume, escorting a young girl I recognize from GenPop. Her face is streaked with tears and her hair is disheveled. She appears to be returning to our side of the city.

I shiver and Sully draws me close. I curl my body to his and say, “What did she do?”

We leave New Washington and return to our familiar section of the corridor. Sully walks me to my door, and for a moment, we simply stand, our fingers entwined, our bodies close. The air between us quivers with unsaid words. He lowers his face and kisses my cheek gently. “This night was perfect,” he says. “And if I have to wait an eternity to do it again, I will, just promise me we’ll do it again.”

“We will,” I say and feel an ache in my heart so pronounced I clutch my chest.

I slide my keycard into the slot and enter my room. June is fast asleep. The only sound I hear is her deep, even breaths. I pause a moment, leaning my forehead against the back of the door, and a pang of guilt strikes me unexpectedly. Will’s face appears in my mind. I don’t know why I see him there, but he won’t go away. Perhaps because I don’t know for sure whether he’s really with Sarah. It certainly appears that way. But as time goes on, I’m learning things are usually as they appear.

Confusion rushes at me like a current, tossing me around before sweeping me up in its tide. All I thought I wanted was to get to New Washington, get June settled in and explore my feelings for Will. But now things have changed. My feelings have changed. My evening with Sully has opened my eyes. Sully understands me better than anyone I know, better than June even. He wants what I want, feels what I feel, and champions what I fight for.

Shoving myself away from the door, I pull my dress over my head and slip into my white jumpsuit. I slide beneath my covers and instantly recall the warmth of Sully’s embrace, the feel of him rocking ever so slightly. Instantly, I’m enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. Sleep pulls me into its darkened embrace, and I fall deeply.

I wake on my own after only a few hours of sleep. Impossibly, I feel refreshed and well-rested. Graced with deep, dreamless sleep, my eyes open and my thoughts return to Sully. He was the last person I thought about before bed, his face the last image my mind produced. And now it is the first I think of. I remember the way he smelled, that spicy masculine scent that made me want to snuggle close to him, the way he looked, the way his lips felt against mine. Just recalling it makes my stomach feel as if it’s filled with innumerable butterflies beating their wings at once. I smile and shake my head, suppressing a giggle that wells from deep within me.

“You’re happy this morning.” June’s voice startles me. I lift my head and see that she’s propped up on one elbow, facing me. “I take it you had fun with Sully and his friends?”

I try to keep from grinning, but it’s an effort. “Yeah, it was okay.” That much is true. The time we spent with his friends was, at best, okay. They were awful, but being near Sully and spending time alone with him, that part was nothing short of magical.

“Sully looked handsome and you looked so pretty,” she says then yawns. “I was hoping you two had a good time. What were his friends like?”

I hesitate for a moment, reluctant to tell her the unfiltered truth. Doing so would lead to a discussion about the vast differences between the people of Washington Central, and the people of GenPop, us. I’m not sure if I’m ready to shatter her idyllic image of this place just yet. “Well, how do I put this,” I buy myself some time by saying. “They weren’t exactly my kind of people.” Satisfied that my response was as diplomatic as it could possibly be, I look to her to gauge her response.

“Hmm,” she says and purses her lips. Her expression reminds me of one my father used to make when his mind was working to solve a problem, or when I’d tell him I was fine when in fact I wasn’t. “Not your kind of people,” she repeats. “Sounds like a fancy way of saying you thought they were jerks.”

Laughter spills from me unexpectedly. I cannot stop myself. “Oh June!” I say between gasps. “I can’t trick you. That’s exactly what they were: jerks!” I continue laughing until my stomach muscles ache.

“I don’t know why you bother trying. I know you too well, better than you give me credit for.” She sits up with a self-assured smirk. “And I also know why Sully got himself all polished and sparkly last night?”

“Well of course I do!” She stands slowly and makes her way toward the bathroom.

“I saw the way he was looking at you, the way he was all goofy and nervous. I’ve never seen him like that before.” She grabs a towel from a small rack inside the bathroom then pokes her head out. “Honestly, it wasn’t a very attractive side of him.” She disappears inside again. “I was a little sad at first. I don’t know if you know this, but I kinda had some feelings for Sully.”

“I know, no one would’ve known. I really kept it to myself. I didn’t even tell Riley.”

“It was no big deal really. I like being around him and think he’s cute.” She’s framed by the doorway, and somehow looks taller and more grown up than when she went in. “But he obviously likes you.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I guess it’s just as well. He’s pretty old.”

“Old?” I widen my eyes and part my lips as if offended. “He’s only a year or two older than me, and I’m not old!”

June giggles. “I don’t know, Avery. You’re kind of old. And seeing the two of you dressed all fancy, you looked like a couple of old parents.”

“Hey!” She dodges my assault. “I guess the truth hurts!” She laughs and throws my pillow back at me.

“I’ll show you a truth that hurts!” I lunge from the bed playfully and she slams the door in my face.

I laugh and flop backward onto the bed and wait until it’s my turn in the bathroom. When June finishes, I shower and dress and wait to be summoned to the cafeteria. And like clockwork, the television screen lights and a woman’s face fills it instructing us that it’s time to eat.

We make our way into the hallway and my stomach continues to tremble nervously, especially when Sully appears in the doorway to his room. He sees me and a warm smile lights his features. With Jericho just a few steps behind him, he makes his way toward me as Oliver and Riley file out of their room.

“Fun with what?” Will’s voice echoes before I can reply that I had fun too.

I turn and look over my shoulder. Will is shutting his door and clearly overhead Sully’s comment. Swallowing hard, I say, “We went to see some of Sully’s old friends from Washington Central.”

Will cocks his head to one side and narrows his eyes. The hard press of his gaze is a clap of thunder that causes me to jerk. “Oh, really? Just the two of you?” His words are like icy rain as they cascade from him, penetrating my skin and chilling my bones. I didn’t want him to find out like this. I wanted to speak to him alone.

“That’s interesting, now isn’t it,” Will practically spits. His tone has gone from cold to venomous. He suspects something happened. I feel guilty because he’s right. Something did happen. But now’s not the time or place to discuss it.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, Sully’s head whips in my direction. His brows dip and a brief flash of misery scrawls across his face. He looks as if I’ve just slapped him. Remorse lances my heart. I’m not ashamed of what happened between us, and I certainly didn’t want to hurt him. I’m trying to protect the feelings of anyone and everyone who stands to get hurt—namely, Will, and possibly June—a feat that is turning out to be as complicated as juggling swords.

“Yeah, there’s nothing interesting at all,” Sully adds snippily and looks between Will and me. He brushes past me and walks ahead. I open my mouth to speak to Will but as my lips part, Sarah and her brother bound from their room.

“Oh hey Sarah,” Will says and falls into step with her, but not before looking over his shoulder and levelling a hostile gaze my way. I shake my head and bite the inside of my lip to keep from shouting at Will that he’s being a baby.

Riley and Oliver are near. I withhold what I want to say and simply shrug. We make our way toward the cafeteria, but before we’re there, I decide that I cannot wait another moment. I can’t breathe knowing Sully is upset. I need to talk to him. Will and Sarah are far ahead of us while Oliver, Tom, June and Riley lag way behind. Sully and Jericho are only a few steps away. I catch up to him and tug his arm. He turns toward me, “What?” His expression is hard.

I glance at Jericho. “Do you mind giving us a second?” I ask apologetically.

A slow smile stretches across Jericho’s pleasant face. He looks between the two of us and says, “Take your time,” then strolls ahead.

When he’s out of earshot, I inhale deeply. Sully still smells of soap and spice and mint, and I want nothing more than to stay here and breathe him in all day long. I lean toward him, my heart thundering in my ears, and say, “It was something.”

“Last night, it meant something,” I shift my weight from one leg to the next. “Actually, it meant a lot to me.” I feel my cheeks warm. “I just don’t want anyone to know yet.” I fidget and bite the skin near my thumbnail.

“Yet?” Sully’s russet eyes undulate with hope. “As in, we’re going to let people know that we’re, you know.” He leaves his sentence unfinished.

He smiles and my speeding heartbeat splutters. “Well okay then. As long as I know what happened last night meant half as much to you as it did to me then I’m fine with keeping it quiet for now.”

I remember the kiss. I can almost feel it, feel the soft skin of his lips pressed to mine. My gaze reflexively travels to his mouth before returning to his eyes. He watches me in a way that makes my scalp shrink and tingle. He leans toward me, as if he may brush his lips to mine, but in my periphery I see June.

Sully looks over his left shoulder then his right. “June bug!” he overcompensates in the enthusiasm department.

“It’s another reason that I want to keep things between us quiet.” I resume following the curve of the tunnel toward the cafeteria.

Sully doesn’t comment further. He simply walks alongside me, his arm brushing against my shoulder every so often in a way that makes my skin tingle with pinpricks of joy. That sensation continues until we grab trays and are served food. He points to a table where June, Riley, Oliver and the others are already sitting, but as I’m walking toward it, I spot the girl I saw being escorted out of Washington Central last night. I pause, and Sully continues to the table, leaving me behind.

Without thinking, I approach the girl. Locks of brown hair tumble across her forehead, and the nearer I get, the better able I am to see that her eyes are puffy and red-rimmed as if she spent the night crying. I stand, practically hovering over her and clutching my tray, and guess I look as strange as I feel, but she doesn’t bother to look up at me. Her gaze is fixed, pinned to the nasty mash piled on her plate.

I clear my throat loudly then say, “Mind if I sit here.” I point to the seat opposite her.

I slide the chair out and sit in it, lowering my tray and watching her. “I’m Avery.”

The girl lifts her chin and glances at me fleetingly before checking over my shoulder. Her face transforms from dejected to terrified in the space of a breath.

“What is it?” I ask and twist to look over my shoulder. I immediately notice what she saw. The guards are staring in our direction, watching us as they nervously finger their weapons. I can’t be sure, but to me, they look as if they’re uncomfortable. The twitchiness with which they move and their anxious expressions.

“Look, Anise, I know it’s none of my business, but I was in Washington Central last night, and I saw you.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth contorts to a painful frown. “W-what?” she asks breathlessly. Color seeps from her pores.

I glance behind me again, to the guards. A growing sense of urgency crackles in the air. I can’t pinpoint what’s causing it, just that the energy of the room has shifted.

Swallowing hard against the lump of dread gathering in my throat, I cut to the chase and ask, “Why were you being escorted by the guards last night?”

Her brows link, and an anguished expression torments her features. Her gaze flickers from my face to the guards. “I-I can’t say,” she whispers tremulously.

“Did you break a law or do something wrong?” I feel eyes boring into the back of my head, and the rising pressure I feel mounts further.

Anise’s eyes dart wildly. “Please, lower your voice,” she begs. “They’ll hear you.” She rubs her forehead then shoves a hand through her hair. “Just go, okay.” Her voice tightens, the threat of tears choking her.

“Who? Who’ll hear?” I decide to act on the awareness whispering up my spine. “The guards? Is that who you don’t want to hear?”

“Yes,” she closes her eyes and answers. The single word is so laden with pain I clutch my chest in sympathy.

“Why does it matter? If you did something wrong, they already know. People will know anyway,” I say a bit louder.

“Please stop.” The strain in her voice is palpable. “I don’t want them to hear.”

I hate myself for what I’m doing. But there’s more to her story than what she’s divulging. Warning raises the fine hairs on my body. My hackles are raised. I operate on instinct alone. “Hear what they already know?” My voice rises further. “They already know what happened.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Anise blurts out finally. “I just had to do my duty for New Washington.” Her nose runs and tears overflow her lashes, spilling down her cheeks. Her body trembles visibly. Wiping the fluid from her upper lip with the back of her hand, she says, “I turned sixteen last week. I’m an adult now. It’s what I had to do.”

Thoughts in my brain scramble. My eyes search the room, search the faces of so many people, so many female children who’ve yet to turn sixteen. A few girls who sit nearby are looking at us. There’s an emptiness to their gazes, but a small flame still flickers. I return my attention to Anise and see that she shares the same hollowness. And in that moment, I realize that if she’s going to say what in my gut I suspect she’s going to say, I won’t be able to suppress the tempestuous rise of fury gurgling in my core. “What does that mean? How did you do your duty?”

Her words are a fist to my stomach. Cold centers in my chest and slowly diffuses down the length of my limbs.

“I’m an adult now so he wanted to meet with me, just like he meets with many of the girls when they become women.” She shakes so hard her hair quivers around her head. Her eyes and nose pour.

Bile rises in the back of my throat. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I grind out each word. “He summons young girls from General Population and uses them for—”

“Shh!” She squeezes her eyes shut. “I didn’t say anything. We had to swear not to tell a soul or our families would be punished.” Her eyes snap open and she blinks rapidly several times. Her breathing becomes short and shallow as panic permeates her entire demeanor.

A tumultuous surge of rage shoots through the very center of my being as the realization of what New Washington truly is crystallizes. The ugly truth of what the future holds for my sister and Riley makes me tremble with rage. “Say it,” I hiss. I want to know what you were brought there for.” My voice is loud and filled with fury.

“Please be quiet,” Anise pleads. Her gaze whipsaws from me to the guards then back to me.

“Sex, okay!” she whispers. “He brings us for sex.” Shame burns her cheeks a crimson stain and sobs beset her. “He isn’t married. We’re obligated as female residents of New Washington.”

Unable to stop myself, I spring to my feet and spin. Sully spots me immediately. Our eyes lock and I can tell by his expression he knows something is terribly wrong. He’s at my side within seconds.

Bitterness sears the back of my throat as I speak. “This girl was brought to your father for sex last night, and she’s not the first. She’s one of countless others from what I understand.” I am fairly shouting, my insides wound so tightly that at any given moment, I will snap.

I recognize his face. I saw him last night. He was one of the men escorting her back to GenPop. I wonder whether he has a daughter, whether he’d be okay with the President forcing himself on her. “You! You’re my problem! You drag young girls off in the middle of the night to be raped by the President!” I yell and a tangible stir rouses the room to life.

Where moments earlier, a low hum drifted, a buzz now dominates. People lean in and question girls at their tables. Discussions have begun, questioning the validity of my claim. Like lightning, a flash of energy streaks through the room when the angry roar of a male rumbles. I look in the direction of the sound and see a man on his feet. Wrath burns in the depths of his black eyes. A commotion follows, howling through the small space with gale force.

“Everyone needs to calm down now!” a guard hollers. Four stand alongside him, looking uneasy, and guilty as any men I’ve ever seen.

A plate hurls through the air and hits the guard in the back of the head. People are on their feet, yelling at the same time.

The press of five hateful gazes bears down on me. They raise their crossbows, but have more than just me in their crosshairs. They’ve effectively lost control of the entire room, and judging from the shocked expressions on their faces, they’re as aware of it as I am.

Strident voices ring out. More objects are heaved—cups, plates, trays and food. The entire room has erupted in chaos as parents and loved ones learn of their daughters’ predicaments. Learning that their young girls were or will be dragged out of their rooms for the perverse pleasure of their President has catapulted the room into a state of outrage.

Seizing the opportunity, I step up onto a chair. “Everyone please!” My voice tolls like a bell, ringing out with clarity and calm I do not feel. The chaos calms. People are listening to me. “We have to figure out what to do now, where to go from here. Things need to change. We have to stand together to make that happen.”

Shouts of agreement echo. “All women of New Washington must be protected—” I start, but am cut off by the patter of booted feet and a booming voice.

My words are interrupted by a swarm of armed guards spilling into the room. Clad in all black, they are a dark tide of terror. “Everyone down or we’ll shoot!” one demands.

“Go to hell!” one man shouts, refusing to comply with the orders shouted at him. He lifts a plate from the table and cocks his arm to throw it, but the minute his hand rears, the deadly swish of a bow slicing the air is followed by the thwack of its tip hitting its mark. The plate drops to the ground and the man clutches his chest, an arrow lodged in his heart at the center of an expanding circle of crimson.

“Everyone down or we will open fire on all of you!” the guard who shot the man says with a triumphant glint in his eye.

Everyone in the room heeds his warning, even me. The fear of getting someone else killed—my sister or one of my friends—motivates me.

As soon as the cool stone touches my belly, my arms are yanked and twisted behind me. “What the heck—” I try to twist, but a boot rests against the back of my neck.

“What’s going on? What’re you doing to her?” Sully’s voice is panicked and unlike I’ve ever heard it.

“She’s done here. You hear me, girl? You’re done here!” the guard hisses.

“Let her go!” Sully shouts and a small commotion ensues. I hear June’s shrill cry, and my worry for her, for all of them, multiplies tenfold.

My words barely have time to make it to his ears. I’m heaved off the ground and half-dragged out of the cafeteria.

As I’m hauled down a dark and dank hallway, the realization that I’ve ruined any chances of a peaceful existence in New Washington for myself, my sister and my friends doesn’t come as a shock to me. And I don’t care. New Washington, in all its gilded glory, does not glitter at its core. It is a corrupt place, dangerous in its own right, in which I do not want my sister to live. I don’t want to spend another minute here.

The room around me spins. Panic settles over me like a mist of icy rain, bleeding my body of warmth. The chaotic swell of shouting and the flurry of activity surrounding me are over. I am alone and sitting on the hard, cold floor. My eyes roam my surroundings. Three walls of stone, one wall of bars, that’s all I see. The space is unnaturally silent, save for the soft drip of condensation coming from somewhere in the dark shadows that stretch beyond my cell. I stand and move to the bars, pressing my face to them as I try to peer beyond the gloom, but see nothing. The guards who left me here are long gone. They’ve left me to wait until my fate, and the fate of June and the others, is handed down.

I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds, my forehead leaning against the cool metal of the bars, and feel the thick knot in my stomach ball tighter. The sting of tears, angry tears, burns my eyes. I furiously blink them back. Crying will do me no good here, especially since here isn’t much better than being aboveground. At least on the surface, we are free to go where we want to go, and girls are not stolen from their beds to serve their President’s sick needs. Urthmen are our innate enemies, and they have been for centuries. The Lurkers reside only in the forests and are also clearly defined adversaries. In New Washington, the line between enemies and allies is blurred. The people of Washington Central regard those in GenPop as lesser beings that aren’t even permitted to visit their section of the city unless doing so in a servile capacity. All of us are human beings seeking shelter from Urthmen and the elements aboveground, yet distinctions are made. Lines are drawn. The population is separated and unbalanced. No such muddling occurs aboveground. Everyone is equal, and everyone fights to survive.

While I’d prefer to shelter June and keep her as far from both Lurkers and Urthmen as humanly possible, the more I learn and understand about New Washington, the clearer it becomes to me that I’d rather take my chances on the surface. I never thought I’d feel this way. This kind of shelter, finding a colony of people, is all I ever hoped for. Learning of its existence was a dream come true. But the dream was an illusion.

I shove against the bars and push myself backward, muttering under my breath. If I’m to be removed from New Washington and released to the surface, why is the President delaying? Why leave me here, in a cell when ultimately, my punishment has already been determined? Those questions, along with many others, roll around in my head like oversized burrs, pricking and piercing everything in their wake. I rub my temples, frustration gathering within me. I don’t want to stand here waiting to hear my fate. I rush to the bars again and shout, “Hey! How long will I be kept here?”

“Just let me go! Release me aboveground!” I call out again and am met with utter stillness.

The quiet is deafening, maddening. I turn and begin to pace, left alone with my thoughts for what feels like days, thought I imagine it’s only hours. When my legs tire I sit, waiting, still waiting.

Exhausted from the night before and tempted by the darkness and quiet, my eyelids become heavy. I’m about to close them when the sharp clack of footsteps echoes from down the corridor. I spring to my feet, my heart vaulting to my throat as it sets off at a gallop.

The footsteps draw closer and a voice speaks. “Oh Avery, what have you done now?” President Sullivan’s voice is ripe with righteous indignation as it carries down the tunnel and fills the chamber, echoing against the stone walls. He clearly hoped to startle me silent. Little does he know, I’m not easy startled, and I’m not easily silenced.

His voice is like thousands of insect feelers scuttling over my skin at once. “Just tried to inform the people of this place, you know, about your fetish for little girls.” Acid drips from my words. I cannot see him yet, but I heard the rhythm of his footsteps falter slightly. “Just throw me out of here and get it over with already. Why put me in here? All the pageantry, it’s ridiculous. Just send me back to the surface!”

Slow and steady footsteps make their way toward me. President Sullivan comes into view. Clad in a dark suit, dark boots and that idiotic robe of his that sweeps along the dusty floor, he carries a lantern, the glow of it adding shadow to the hollows of his features and giving him a sinister appearance.

He stops in front of the bars and narrows his eyes at me. “Oh, trust me, I would have. But it appears we have a problem.”

President Sullivan’s face contorts into a manic sneer. “Well you should! They’re your fault, you and that stupid son of mine!” he screams.

Wiping the spittle that sprayed from his mouth to my face when he shouted, I ask, “What’re you talking about?”

He rips a device from the pocket of his cloak and aims it at the stone wall behind me. A television screen brightens. “This! This is what I’m talking about!”

An eerie shiver sweeps across my skin. The desert appears on the screen, and it’s dotted with what I guess are thousands of Urthmen standing around, waiting. My lips part of their own accord. I’m about to gasp when a familiar face fills the screen. The General glares, his ice-blue eyes glacial tunnels that bore through miles of earth and rock and freeze my pulse mid-beat. My heart drops, a cold chill racing through my body. It’s as if he sees me, or at the very least, knows I’m watching.

“Yes, you damn fool! You led them right to us! We have survived down here for more than two hundred years, unnoticed and unbothered, until now, until you and my son ruined it for everyone!” President Sullivan shouts so loudly the veins in his neck bulge. His hair, usually styled meticulously, sticks out at the sides lending him the appearance of a madman.

I lunge toward the bars, my nose inches from his. “We have to go out and fight,” I say.

President Sullivan rears his head back as if he’s just been struck. His eyes bug out and his voice pitches up an octave. “Are you insane? Those are experienced soldiers. We can’t fight them!”

“We have ten thousand in General Population and another thousand in Washington Central,” he replies.

I rub my chin. “So the numbers are pretty even,” I think aloud. “We can win. We will win,” I look him dead in the eyes and say.

“No, we won’t win, because we’re staying down here and waiting for them to leave.”

“So why would they leave if they know we’re down here?” I let the question settle for a moment before I continue. “They will never leave, and they’ll find a way down here. But by then, there’ll be a hundred thousand of them, and we’ll be obliterated for sure.”

His face pinches to a point, his brows lowering, eclipsing his eyes. “I don’t need advice from a girl.” He spits my gender with disdain. “I am the President of this city. We do as I say.” His tone is filled with sanctimonious outrage.

“A coward, huh?” he snorts and takes a step away, repeating the word several times. Then without warning, he leaps toward the cell, his face so close to mine his breath blows tendrils of my hair away from my face. “Maybe I should have you killed right now,” he growls, his voice low and threatening.

“We’re dead anyway, unless we go up there and fight,” I match his tone and reply. And it’s true. He can kill me now, or the Urthmen will kill me later. Either way, I’ll die. We’ll all die once the Urthmen assemble fully and reach us.

President Sullivan shakes his head and laughs. It’s a brittle, mirthless sound that resonates with hate. “You sound exactly like my son did when I showed him what’s going on up there,” he says and holds my gaze. “Damn fools, both of you,” he says before he turns on his heel and marches away.

Watching him go, I feel a shiver of unease whisper through my body, a tingle of warning. The President will not listen to Sully and he won’t listen to me. He’d rather wait to die down here than amass an army and fight.

“President Sullivan!” I call after him. “President Sullivan, wait! Don’t leave the people of New Washington vulnerable!” My voice is shrill as it echoes through the hollows of wherever I am. “Don’t let them die! You owe them a chance to live! You owe them!”

I scream until my throat is raw, but am answered only by the rhythmic clacking of his boots walking further down the tunnel, further away from me.

When I’m left with nothing but the sound of ringing in my ears from silence so thick it’s smothering, I lower my head into my hands and try to think of a way out.

The complete absence of noise causes me to notice the intensity of silence. My ears ring with it as it tolls through my body and rattles my brain. But it doesn’t compare to the tightness in my chest. Remorse weighs heavily as it settles there, constricting my lungs with its ironclad grip so that I can barely breathe.

I’ve led the enemy to New Washington, and now my sister, along with every other citizen of the city, will pay the price if we do not unite and rise against them. That will never happen as long as I am locked in this cell.

Swathed in darkness, thick and sinister, despair sinks its tentacles into my spirit. I drop my head into my hands and feel myself slip, succumbing to hopelessness, to desolation. June will die, Riley will die. Every man, woman and child down here will die once the Urthmen reinforcements arrive and they organize their attack. And they will, soon. There isn’t a doubt in my mind about that. The time to stop them is now, before their numbers grow. Unfortunately, I am the only one who’s convinced of this detail; a detail that could save the fate of New Washington.

I close my eyes, the blackness behind my lids as pronounced and impenetrable as the murkiness within my poorly lit cell. The stress I feel, the panic and insurmountable dread, evokes a sensation similar to having my lifeblood drained from my body. I feel the sweeping, lacy prickles of numbness start at my fingertips and creep up my forearms to my shoulders, spreading to my neck and face, to my chest and torso, and then to my legs in paralyzing waves of anxiety until I swear every ounce of my essence has been bled and now pools at my feet.

I collapse onto my side and tuck my knees to my chest. I think of my father, of my mother and the sibling who never took his or her first breath on this planet. I think of June, of the life we had, of the life we thought we could have here. My memories, my hopes and intentions, fall to the gloom.

Beyond my clamped eyelids, the world spins. I try to fight it, attempt to will it to halt, but my efforts are useless. Nothing helps. I’m faced with the realization that I must give up. I’ve fought to keep my sister safe, and to survive, my entire life. And now the fight is over. The General will lead the Urthmen down here and kill us. President Sullivan will do nothing to stop it.

I’m about to surrender to utter despondency when the sound of shouting startles me. Male voices blend with one another. I can’t be certain of how many I hear, just that there are grunts and groans, the sound of a scuffle. I bolt upright, my nerve endings combatting the immobilizing effects of my angst, as the sound of the fray draws closer. Slowly, I stand and make my way to the bars.

My eyes strain to see down the corridor. Anemic, ashy light does little to illuminate the situation.

“Stop right now or I’ll shoot!” a voice rings out, a familiar voice I recognize as belonging to one of the guards.

My body sputters to life once again. I’m pressed against the metal rods that barricade me inside, my face wedged between two as I peer in the distance. Shadows scrawled across the stone floor merge, bustling with what looks like limbs jutting in every direction. More huffs and grunts follow. I inhale and am about to shout and ask what’s going on, but am silenced by a large shape streaking by in a shadowy blur. A muffled “Argh!” accompanies it followed by a loud thud. Instinctively, I step back until it passes then rush to the farthest corner of my cell once it lands.

My heart has lodged in my throat, hammering there. “What the heck?” The words are a strangled whisper I mutter to myself when I see that the collapsed heap is the guard whose voice I recognized seconds earlier. His eyes are rolled back in his head and he isn’t moving, likely unconscious.

“Hey beautiful.” Sully’s voice echoes behind me and causes me to jump before it raises every hair on my body. I close my eyes, afraid to open them, terrified that I’m dreaming and that he’ll be gone when I open them. “Let’s get you out of there.”

My heart returns to its rightful place. There’s so much I want to say to him. I want to thank him, to tell him how happy I am to see him, to tell him I worried I’d never see him again and that the thought made me sick in every possible way. But I don’t. There’ll be time enough to express every feeling I have for him. Now isn’t that time. I allow only one question to pass from my swimming mind and slip past my lips. “How’d you do this unarmed?” I ask and gesture to the fallen guard.

His eyes lock on mine. They shine with profound emotion that causes my chest to flutter, and unspoken words pass between us. “I got the big guy with me.” One corner of his mouth tilts upward. He thumbs over his shoulder to where Jericho’s massive form rounds the corner almost timidly.

“Hello, Avery.” Jericho’s voice flows like heated honey. He’s just thrown a man across a room, yet isn’t winded in the least, isn’t gripped by adrenaline or shouting like a madman.

“We’ve got to get you out of there.” Sully’s voice snaps me back to the direness of our predicament.

“How? What’re we going to do? Where will we go?” The questions fire from me in rapid succession.

Without speaking, Sully lunges toward the fallen guard. In one swift motion, he retrieves a ring of keys from a belt cinched at his waist. He then twists one of them into the lock and pulls the bars toward him. Metal creaks, hinges protest, and the cell door opens. I rush out and, without thinking, wrap my arms around Sully’s neck. Pulling him close and embracing him tightly, I feel his heart thundering against my chest. The act is automatic, as natural as breathing. “I’m so happy to see you.” The words fall from me like pieces into place, and my life comes into razor-sharp focus.

He reciprocates the intensity of my hug and whispers into my hair, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

But all too soon, the gravity of the situation returns me to the present. My grip slackens and I step backward. Jericho clears his throat and Sully’s gaze darts from him to me. His fingertips skim the skin of my forearms as he releases me with a gentle squeeze to both of my hands.

“Everyone’s talking about you in GenPop. Small riots are even breaking out,” Sully says.

“Well, they’re talking about Azlyn,” Jericho adds. “That’s what they’re calling you.”

“That’s the one.” Sully nods. “The blonde hair, appearing suddenly, the fearlessness, you’ve got to admit, the similarities are there. To the people of New Washington, you’re Azlyn. You’re here to free them.”

“But they don’t think they need to be freed.” I shrug. “And your father won’t even let them decide anything for themselves.”

“Why would small riots be occurring if they don’t think they deserve freedom?” Jericho’s question gives me pause. I do not have a response.

“I know. Your father showed me.” I gesture behind myself absently, toward the monitor camouflaged by stone.

“We have to fight now before more join them.” Sully’s words echo exactly what I told President Sullivan. I’m in awe of how synchronized our thinking is.

A moment laden with unsaid sentiment passes between us before Sully says, “He won’t hear it. He thinks we should stay down here and wait to be slaughtered.”

Jericho places a hand on my shoulder. Large and warm, the gesture heats my skin and slows the whirling of my brain. “Sully has a plan,” is all he says, and for reasons I can’t explain, I’m calmed.

“That’s right,” Sully says. “We’re going to cash in on your newfound fame.”

I look at him questioningly. Jericho’s hand slides from my shoulder. Cold is left in its absence, but hope still remains.

“Trust me.” Sully’s penetrating gaze delves deep inside me, compelling me to do as he’s asked. “Come on.” He nods toward the fallen guards. “He’ll be out for a while. Take his crossbow.”

Jericho relieves the man of handcuffs and his weapon. He hands the crossbow to me. “We’ll get the others off the guards in the tunnel.

“Let’s go. Let’s rally the people of New Washington.” Sully takes my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. He strokes the sensitive flesh of my wrist with his thumb for the briefest of seconds before letting go. Warm brown eyes hold me a second longer, then he turns and starts down the passageway.

After stripping the crossbows off the guards littering the floor at the entrance, we quickly walk away from the cell in which I was held. Gray light dribbles weakly from overhead fixtures that blink intermittently and emit an odd buzzing sound. The drone competes with a drip echoing from nearby. Both confirm to me that we are deep in the bowels of the city, of the earth. The walls are not smooth as they are in other areas. Jagged rocks protrude and create darkened niches from which a guard could spring at any moment. A few steps ahead of me, Sully is vigilant, approaching each alcove cautiously and checking it before proceeding. We continue until the tunnel widens. Ahead it flares to a more expansive section before which shinier stone bathed in golden, more inviting light begins.

“That’s where we’re headed,” Sully whispers. I sense that he has more to say, but his words are cut short by sound of booted feet tramping over stone. Our heads snap toward the sound. “Hide!” he hisses and pulls me into a deep indentation in the wall sheltered on two sides. He positions himself in front of me, shielding my body with his protectively. One arm is braced against the wall behind me while the other grips his weapon. My heart sprints, and adrenaline pumps through every vein inside me as I press my body to his back. Steely cords of muscle rival the unyielding rock at my back and I am suddenly aware of how powerful Sully is. Tensed and poised to battle, raw strength radiates from him. Curling my fingers into the fabric of his dark clothing, my fingertips graze the taut ropes of his abdomen. I hold my breath as the clatter of footsteps passes, shocked that we managed to evade capture.

“Why are we headed this way? This takes us to Washington Central.” I point in the distance, to where the rugged, grimy rock gives way to smooth, pale stone. “I thought we were going to rally the people.”

Furrowing my brow, I wait for him to elaborate. When he doesn’t, I say. “I don’t understand.”

He slips his hand into mine, entwining his long fingers with mine. “Trust me, okay?” His voice is low, intimate, and sincere. I realize in that moment that I trust him as I trust myself.

He leads me through the remainder of the dank section of tunnel to the brighter, cleaner portion until we’re standing before a midsized building with a tall tower affixed to its roof. The letters on the sign in front of it read “Broadcast Center.” A pair of glass doors sits below it. Sully strides to the doors with purposeful steps and yanks one open. He marches inside, and I follow with Jericho behind me. We turn right and start to make our way down a bright, white hallway when two guards round the corner.

Surprise etches their features for a fraction of a second, and that fraction of a second they stall allows us ample time to act. In the space of a breath, our crossbows are raised, aimed at the men before us. “Drop your weapons now,” Jericho says calmly.

Realizing they’re outnumbered and that Jericho’s voice quivers with the promise of aggression, the guards slowly stoop and place their crossbows on the floor in front of them.

“Now turn around and open that door.” Sully points to a closed, metal door with a small window carved high at chin height. A sign indicates that it is the broadcast room. “Slowly!” he barks authoritatively. “No sudden moves and don’t even think about doing anything funny.”

The men nod and acquiesce. One produces keys and fumbles until he finds the correct one. He inserts it and twists the doorknob. The other watches nervously.

“Move,” Sully growls and prods one of the men with the tip of his loaded bow. I follow suit and nudge the other. Jericho checks the hallway then steps inside behind us.

A woman sitting behind a black cylindrical instrument does a double take, her head whipsawing between us, the papers in front of her, then back to us. “You-you guys aren’t supposed to be in here!” Her voice and her face are both achingly familiar. She’s the face I see each morning when I wake, the voice that rouses me from sleep. She’s the face I see each evening, the one who summons me to dinner.

“Step away from the microphone,” Sully commands her. His crossbow is aimed at her head.

Her limbs jerk to life at my command. She moves woodenly as she stands and steps away from the device.

“All three of you, get in there.” He nods toward a storage room with two doors. Neither the guards nor the woman resists. They walk to the closet and allow themselves to be placed inside. Jericho secures the doors by handcuffing the handles shut.

As soon as they are locked away, I turn to Sully and ask the question that’s been burning in my mind since we arrived. “What’re we doing here?”

His eyes, though dark, fairly sparkle with starlight. “You’re going to talk to the people of New Washington and tell them what’s happening. You’re going to explain to them what needs to be done.”

My mouth goes dry. The situation begins to take shape, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. The woman I see each day, the microphone, the broadcast center, all of it gels. “But why me? Why not you?”

Lowering his weapon, Sully wets his lips. He cups one of my elbows in the palm of his hand. He gazes into my eyes, his fathomless irises glittering with energy. “Don’t you see, Avery?” he asks gently. “To them, you’re Azlyn. You’re the answer to the question they’ve just begun asking. They’ll listen to you.”

I want to ask him how he can be so sure, why he has so much faith in me, and why he’s got me connected to this story he and every other child of New Washington heard as a child. But I don’t. I simply nod and allow myself to be led in front of a large, oddly shaped device I recognize as a camera. Sully positions me then leaves and begins fiddling with a large panel of buttons. Jericho mobilizes as well. He locks the door to the broadcast room and pushes a large metal cabinet in front of it for safe measure. Within seconds, I see my image in a rectangular monitor similar to the one in my room. I am on the screen instead of the woman now locked in the storage closet.

“You’re on, Avery,” Sully’s voice echoes with a ghostly quality from everywhere, yet nowhere specific. I look all around me and see small speakers in each corner of the room. I realize I can hear him through them, that he’s speaking to me from the control room. “You can do this,” he adds, his tone husky and intimate despite the fact that it fills the room.

I take a deep breath and clear my throat. My insides quake and my hands go cold. I’ve battled Urthmen, Lurkers, and monstrous creatures of the forest yet standing now, alone and in front of a monitor that reflects my image, I am more nervous that I ever remember being. At least when fighting for my life, I know exactly what to do. This is nothing like that. This is different.

“They’re counting on you to save them. Lives are at stake.” Sully’s voice sounds again, and suddenly I realize what I’m doing now isn’t that different from what I’ve been doing all along. Only now I’m not armed with a sword. All I have are words.

I close my eyes for a moment and breathe from my belly, and suddenly I know what I have to do: tell the truth.

“Citizens of New Washington,” I look directly into the monitor and say. “I think by now, most of you know who I am. I was brought in from the surface. I lived aboveground my whole life.” I clear my throat and steel my nerves. “I’m here right now, on your monitors instead of the other lady, to talk to you. And what I have to tell you is very difficult.” I imagine that I’m addressing June and speak as if I’m relaying bad news. “Something terrible is happening. As we go about our routine of the day right now, an attack is being plotted against us, against this city.” My heart thunders in my ears, the sound as loud as a stampeded of boarts. “President Sullivan wants to keep you in the dark. He doesn’t want you to know about it. But I think you deserve to know the truth. I think you need to see for yourselves so you can decide what you want to do.”

Instantly my image disappears from the screen, replaced, instead, by live feed from the surface. Urthmen, grotesque and armed with swords, fill the monitor, their numbers too great to count. I estimate there are thousands.

“What you’re seeing now is live feed from cameras positioned strategically aboveground. Urthmen are here at this very moment.”

“Urthmen are here for us, and make no mistake about it, they will find a way down here. They’ll bring digging machines and explosives and eventually storm this city.” I pause for several beats, allowing the weight of my words to settle. “Right now, there are about as many of them as there are of us. Our numbers are matched evenly. In time, though, they will send for reinforcements and have ten times as many Urthmen up there.” I hesitate. The next words I’m about to speak are irrevocable. Once they’re spoken there isn’t a way to unsay them. “We will be slaughtered once the might of their army is here and they make it to the city,” I say softly. “But, if we fight now while there is still time, we can win and protect this place from invasion, protect our freedom, our lives.”

Loud banging at the door startles me. The door to the broadcast room shakes as a series of bangs strike it.

Looking from the door to the monitor, I realize my time is limited. “You have two choices. You can stay down here and wait to die, which is what President Sullivan wants so that he can enjoy his reign a short time longer while all of you suffer. Or we can arm ourselves, join together and fight as soldiers of the human race.” My voice is strong and shivers with a raw and untapped wellspring of power. It resonates with a disembodied quality that echoes all around me. Every ounce of conviction I feel surges, overwhelming me so that I am nearly shouting. “We need to go to the surface and make our stand against the monsters that seek to slay us like animals. We need to show them that this is our planet, and we’re taking it back!”

A thunderous rumble shakes the walls around me and the ceiling overhead, rolling with cheers and shouts in unison. The monitor in front of me cuts from my face to images of random spots in New Washington. Each shows people pumping their fists and shouting approval.

Abandoning his post, Sully appears beside me. I see both of us on the screen now. “If you’re with us, we ask that every able-bodied person heads to the armory so that we can arm ourselves!” he yells over the roar of the people. He then turns to me and smiles. “I think that went well, don’t you?” He winks casually but I can tell he’s as charged as I am. The slight tremor in his voice reveals as much. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jericho moves the cabinet and unlocks the door. Sully twists the handle and opens it, and we’re met with ten guards, all aiming crossbows at us. Both he and Jericho position themselves in front of me. Complete silence dominates for a moment, a strain of tension the only sound echoing.

When finally the silence is broken, it is Sully’s voice that speaks. “Are you with us, or are you staying down here to die?” he asks calmly.

My fingers twitch on the trigger of my crossbow, and I only get a glimpse of the men before us, but it’s enough to see that they are lowering their weapons.

“Let’s move,” Sully says to them. The guards lead the way as we run toward the armory.

As we race there, I pause. “Wait, what about June, and Will and the others?” I slow and ask.

“I told them to meet us at the armory.” I barely hear Sully over the rolling rattle of footsteps. People pour into the tunnel and join us. I turn and look over my shoulder. As far as I can see, people line the passageway. We keep moving until we make it to the armory.

The tunnel opens to a large circular area. Past it is a wide set of double doors. Sully turns to me and says, “Beyond those doors are the weapons of New Washington.”

I twist and look behind me. A guard is standing there. “Open it,” I say flatly.

He nudges past me. The jingle of his keys setting into motion a hush that befalls our expanding group like a ripple in a pond. The key is inserted and the knob is turned.

Once the doors are opened, I am stunned silent. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls. On them are swords and daggers of every shape and size. But only one stands out to me. Pushing past the men in front of me, I immediately move to one I recognize. Drawn to it like metal to a magnet, I’m pulled to my sword. I slide it forward, wrapping my fingers around its handle and squeezing. I feel its familiar heft, the weight and power of the cool steel, and a part of me, a recess tucked deep within the hollows of my being, sparks to life. My heart beats a little harder, my blood pumps a little faster. Beside my sword is my sheath and spear. I slip both arms inside my scabbard. The tension of it brings my shoulder blades closer, straightening my posture. I slide my spear inside. With my spear and scabbard at my back and my blade in hand, I feel prepared to fight once again.

All around me, swords are being passed out. There are more than enough to go around. Each woman or man who’s arrived is issued a weapon. I’m grateful that President Sullivan, despite his lengthy list of misdeeds, had the common sense to keep enough arms in the city for the people to defend themselves if necessary. Jericho has reunited with his hammer and Sully with several daggers he’d kept strapped to various parts of his body at all times. I’m about to comment on the many bands he attaches to his legs and arms when I hear June calling to me.

I turn toward the sound of her voice and feel her body collide with mine. “June!” I exclaim as soon as her arms clap around my waist. Will is behind her.

“Speech?” I look at him confusedly. To me, giving a speech implies that thought went into the words delivered before they were delivered. “Thank you, but I don’t know about a speech. I was just talking.”

“Well whatever it was, it was enough to get this group here.” He gestures all around us. “There’s got to be ten-thousand people here.”

I watch as men women and children who look no older than twelve grab blades. “They’re all going to fight,” I say more for my benefit than his.

Sarah makes her way toward us. She slips her arms around Will’s bicep. “I don’t know why I’m here. I mean, you made me come.” She smiles and playfully slaps Will’s arm. “It’s not like I’m going to fight or anything.”

For a moment I wonder whether I heard her correctly. I swear I heard her say she wasn’t going to fight. My brows dip and I lean in. “I’m sorry Sarah. It’s loud in here. But I could’ve sworn I heard you say you’re not going to fight.” I look at her apologetically. Clearly I’d been mistaken.

Sarah’s smile collapses. “No, you heard me correctly. I’m not fighting.” Now it is she who looks contrite. “I don’t know how.”

I try to process her words, to make sense of them, but can’t. Glaring at her, I whirl and grab a sword. I thrust it toward her. “Yes, yes you are.” I feel the ferocity in my gaze, the heat lacing my words. “You won’t be hiding out here when children are going up there. No way. We need every able-bodied human with us.” I place the hilt in her hand. “Take it.”

Her eyes are wide and shine with tears. “O-okay.” Reluctantly, she wraps her hand around the handle and holds it as if it were a bomb.

Their words only stoke the massive blaze burning inside me over Sarah’s initial refusal. “No you’re both too young. You need to stay down here. Tom will watch after you.” Sarah’s brother Tom has joined us, and I’ve just volunteered him to mind the children, a fact he looks displeased about. He doesn’t argue, though. His hands are too badly damaged to hold a blade. Behind him, I watch as Oliver is given a sword. I look at him, and he avoids my eyes. His gaze settles on his brother.

“I’m fighting,” he tells Will, leaving no room for discussion or argument.

“No you’re not,” Will tries, but Oliver turns on his heels and walks away.

I wait for Will to pursue him, but he doesn’t. Oliver’s determination is unbending. His refusal to remain with his brother only punctuates that point. I look over Will’s head and follow Oliver with my gaze. He’s joined the guards and is grabbing swords from the shelves and passing them out in the halls. And he’s not the only one helping. Everyone seems to be cooperating, assisting one another dutifully. Before long, everyone appears to have a blade.

I feel Sully’s fingertips graze my arm. I turn to face him. His eyes are filled with what can only be described as pride. “Look how quickly everyone came together, and all because of you.”

I want to reach out to him, to wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close. I want to breathe in his spicy, masculine scent to calm my firing nerves. But I can’t. The fate of the city teeters at the edge of a great precipice. The general and his army of Urthmen are poised to pitch us over, unless we act now.

But I fret over how we will all make it aboveground without getting picked off in the process. The only mode of transport I’ve seen is the cube that tunneled through the earth and brought us here. Surely, though, that isn’t the only way. I’m afraid to ask Sully. I gaze up at his face; at the chiseled planes so perfectly sculpted they make my insides flutter despite the impending war. “Is there a better way to reach the surface other than that small contraption we were brought down in?”

His eyes lock on mine, blazing with intensity. “We’re going to raise the city.”

“Raise the city?” I ask and feel my scalp shrink. Goose bumps race across my flesh.

Sully brushes his knuckles down my cheek, an act so tender I glance over his shoulder to be sure no one saw. He abruptly turns from me and gathers several guards. The guards nod enthusiastically at whatever he says. He returns to me, along with them, and together we file past throngs of people until we reach an unremarkable door along the tunnel wall. Camouflaged by craggy charcoal stone, the gray door blends seamlessly, but beyond it are massive metal devices with an array of different colored buttons.

“It’s a control room,” Sully says, his eyes wide with wonder. I follow his gaze as it scans the numerous knobs and switches. “From here, we will raise the city.”

He uses that term again, “raise the city.” I have no idea what he means, only that the guards are in a state that is a combination of panicked and excited. They each search their key rings until they find one in particular. Simultaneously, they insert their keys into slotted openings in the panel nearest to me. Then Sully presses several buttons and shifts at least six levers.

Creaking and groaning ensues, the sound akin to a mighty beast awakening from a century-long slumber. An otherworldly moan rings out. The walls shake. The ground beneath my feet rumbles. I pitch backward then widen my stance to keep from falling.

The floor lurches and I tip toward Jericho. I latch onto his arm. I look up and expect to see that his expression mirrors mine, that he’s as confused by what is happening as I am. His rich, dark skin is smooth and unperturbed. His calm, as surprising as it is, diffuses from him in comforting waves. “Hold on tight, Avery,” his voice filters from him like a shaft of summer sunlight. “This is what was meant to happen.”

I hold his gaze for several moments. Then I look to the guards, to the shifting structure around me. Finally, I look at Sully. The world is literally shifting around me, yet when our gazes clash, I am filled with steadfast resolve, with confidence. I inhale deeply and hope for the fate of the thousands of people joining me in the fight for our freedom

Bitterness rockets up the back of my throat and every nerve ending in my body fires at once. A thunderous commotion erupts as the city rises and is followed by silence so thick and unsettling I can’t help but look all around me to ensure that I’m not alone, that what’s happening isn’t a dream from which I’ll wake. Sully is beside me, and so is Jericho. The guards are still present, as are the thousands of New Washington citizens who turned up at the armory. Will, Sarah and Oliver are not in my sight. I only hope that June and Riley are safe and with Tom. The thought of June being anywhere near this confrontation is more than I can bear.

The world around me ascends slowly at first, but its speed increases without warning, jarring me and nauseating me simultaneously. This is it, I think. The city is being lifted to the surface to combat the Urthmen. This information, this advance knowledge that I will be faced with thousands of beings prepared to take my head off, is different than spontaneously happening upon the enemy. The taking of lives, no matter how perverse and vicious those who’ll be taken are, is a weighty endeavor. I’m overwhelmed by emotions storming at once. Anger, fear, revulsion and excitement all form a sick pit in my stomach. I gag several times then look around me. Many of the people I see will lose their lives. I glance over my shoulder again and am offered a fleeting glimpse of more individuals than I can count. Male, female, old, and young have united to stand behind me, and against those who’ve oppressed us, who’ve hunted us for far too long. Their willingness to fight infuses me with a quiet calm, a faith that, joined as we are, we will endure. We will prevail.

I close my eyes and clutch my sword in front of my chest with two hands. My head bows and touches the cold steel. I think of my father, of my mother and unborn sibling who were struck down, of life and death, and of the old woman named Mary I met before I left the forest. She held fast to a belief that a mystical being reigned over all creatures, that He watched over people and protected them. She referred to him as God. In the seconds before I tip my chin and open my eyes, I wonder whether God favors humans or Urthmen, because if it is humanity who holds His vote then I beseech Him for his graces. We’ve endured centuries of brutality, been hunted to the verge of extinction. Armed with our weapons and hope, we need all the support we can get.

Still gripping my blade tightly, my eyes flutter open. Brilliant light floods my field of vision from overhead. My eyes tear and I squint against it until my vision adjusts. We’re cresting the surface like the sun emerging from the horizon. Sand and pebbly dirt pours, seeping into crevices and cracks as the walls begin to tumble. When finally the outermost walls fall, they land with a deafening crash.

Dusty clouds form. My throat dries and tightens. I turn and cough. Firm fingers latch onto my wrist as soon as I finish. I’m met with Sully’s gaze. “When we get out there onto the battlefield, we stay together, okay?” he says. His tone is urgent and his expression is intense. “We stay together, please.”

“I can’t live if I lose you. You’re a part of me.” His hand touches his chest just above his heart. His voice is low and gravelly, his words intimate. His tone carries an unspoken promise that strikes me like a bolt of lightning. He’s saying he needs me, and not for his survival or for guidance. He just needs me for me.

“I promise,” I agree and mean it. “We’ll protect each other,” I say as the city completes its climb to the surface.

Powdery billows settle. Dirt and other debris cascade to the ground. Dry, desert heat replaces the damp coolness of the underground city, radiating from the pale sands in wavering fronds. My attention snaps from Sully to the unadulterated view I now have of our battleground. The sight before me turns my lungs to blocks of ice. A veritable sea of Urthmen, all dressed in gray, appears to have retreated in fear, I suppose. Perhaps they thought the rumbling ground was a weapon of some sort. Or perhaps they thought natural disaster was about to strike. Either way, they’ve backed up considerably from where they were when President Sullivan showed me the live feed. Their presence erases any misgivings I briefly had about claiming lives. They are not thinking and feeling beings capable of compassion. They’re monsters through and through.

My head snaps toward him and my gaze locks on his. “No, this is where it all begins.”

His keen eyes spark to life and he flashes his half-smile. “That’s right, beautiful.”

I open my mouth to speak, to retort playfully, but feel eyes other than Sully’s boring into my flesh. I scan the field in front of me and see countless hideous faces. Only one stands out among them: The General. Clad in black from head to toe, he scowls at me. A frosty gaze with eyes the color of ice over water blasts through the ether and freezes the blood in my veins. As soon as our gazes collide, he gestures with his sword toward me, toward all of us, and screams words that are inaudible.

“Here we go,” I mutter when, at The General’s order, the Urthmen mobilize, emitting an unearthly din as they charge in our direction.

Cold washes over me for a split-second before my legs twitch and my feet take off. I do not think twice and I do not look back. The fight for earth is now, and I will fight to the death if I have to. My future is clear, clearer than it’s ever been, and my destiny is unmistakable. I sprint headlong, racing toward the murky tide of charcoal. Over the noise of the advancing parties, I hear Sully release a war cry. I never doubted he’d be beside me, but am reassured, nonetheless, by his close proximity. The horse roar of his voice is a benediction, fuel to the fire burning brightly within me. In my periphery, I see many only a few steps behind me.

The closer we draw to the impending clash, the harder my heart beats, the sound a war drum pounding its fitful rhythm. I unsheathe my spear and clutch it in one hand while the other holds my sword. When I am within throwing range, I launch it forward with every bit of strength I have. The spear spikes the air with a high-pitched shriek, whistling shrilly until it lodges in the eye of an Urthman. He reels backward then falls to the ground. The urge to pump my fist is hard to resist. I’ve toppled the first among them. More will follow.

The rolling echo of people behind me resounds like the growl of a hungry beast. The distance between the Urthmen and us is closing fast, twenty feet . . . ten feet.

The clash of swords and clubs, of flesh and bone, is earsplitting on impact. Chaos erupts with a sonic boom. All around me, Urthmen swarm. I whirl from side to side, wielding my sword and carving the air from left to right. The glint of blades reflects the sun and gleams with savage light. An ocean of malformed heads churns and roils like darkened waters. Clubs and swords are hefted, and primitive grunts echo. Their assault is lumbering, their swipes ham-fisted. I swing my blade with vengeful fury. The ranks of Urthmen that advance unendingly, clumsily, blur together to form one violent, grotesque image. But I do not stop cutting.

The sharpened edge of my blade drags across the exposed midsection of the Urthman closest to me. His weapon falls from his hands and lands in the sand at his feet noiselessly. As soon as he drops, I drive my sword through his throat and manage to remove it and swing it in a wide arc just in time to thwart the attack of another fiend. My swipe pushes his hands back, causing them to jerk, and when they do, I slice the ether horizontally, lopping his head off. His skull tumbles to the ground, his eyes staring in abject horror and shock, and I step back. My spine touches something solid and warm. I twist and look over my shoulder and am instantly relieved to see that Sully is behind me. The hard cords of muscle at his back flex and bunch as he fends off multiple attacks, brandishing his daggers with lethal speed and skill. But I dare not marvel at his dexterity, for a deluge of gray rushes my way.

Blow after blow, aimed at every conceivable part of my body, rains from every direction. I block and strike, hitting some while killing others, until my blade grows heavy. Time to rest, to slow, to breathe, doesn’t exist. I must keeping fighting, and do, until I am in the depths of the dark heart of the Urthmen offensive.

In my periphery, I catch sight of Jericho. He hefts his mallet, drilling and smashing any monstrous creature that crosses his path. His skin looks as if it’s been carved from the night sky: dark, smooth and glowing. Though he heaves a large, cumbersome weapon, he manages to make it glide through the air with ease, with the grace of a bird in flight. But when it lands upon the flesh of the enemy and sends jets of copper and crimson spraying, every bit of elegance seeps from his movements. What is left is the inherent need to survive.

In the field, I see Mr. Derrick. He appears to be winning the battle with the Urthman before him. And he isn’t the only citizen of New Washington who is dominating his or her opponent. In fact, the number of Urthmen seems to have diminished considerably. They are savages without strategy, dangerous but not tactical. What they lack we have in surplus. Excitement begins to bubble inside of me. The Urthmen are outwitted, and hopefully outmatched.

Despite my growing optimism, the battle still rages on. I narrowly dodge having my skull cleaved in two, ducking and spinning and slashing an Urthman at his waist. Gore spills from him in a scarlet gush. He howls and falls to the ground. But when my gaze lowers to his fading form, I do not feel victorious in the least. Beside him, with pale-green eyes wide and her mouth agape in a silent scream, is Sarah. An angry maroon arc mars the slender column of her throat and blood saturates the front of her shirt. “No,” I gasp. And as soon as the words fall from my lips, a guttural cry rips through the air. My head whips toward the sound and I see aquamarine eyes veiled in agony. Will’s features are a mask of wrath and pain. He screams frenziedly as he carves open Urthman after Urthman within range of his swing.

Sarah’s death affects me. I allow myself to be powered by my sadness, by Will’s sadness. I twist and chop, slash and slice.

I don’t know how much time has passed, how long I’ve been fighting, but every muscle in my body complains. My neck and shoulders ache and my arms sting. The crowd has thinned considerably. More Urthmen than humans have fallen. The air is tinged with the metallic stench of blood so cloying it coats my tongue and thickens my throat. The overpowering urge to vomit is halted when The General’s icy gaze meets with mine. Our energies and intentions slide over and under each other, warring with frictionless force. He shoves a boy, younger than Oliver, from his path toward me, and then strikes him down without even looking as he marches my way. Seeing The General’s track, Jericho lunges for him, hoisting his mallet and clipping him in the shoulder as he passes. The General bays like a wounded animal but doesn’t relinquish his grip on his blade. When Jericho moves to attack again, this time at his head, The General catches his arm and buries his blade just above Jericho’s navel until its tip protrudes from his back. Jericho’s eyes widen briefly, his face is etched in shock, and then slowly, his brow furrows. Realization of what has happened washes over him. His head lowers. He sees the dagger and the expanding circle of red pooling at his midsection. He gasps and mutters words I cannot hear, and I feel a twisting pain lance my heart. He falls to the beige sands already speckled with his lifeblood, unmoving.

“No!” I hear myself scream. My voice sounds foreign and disembodied, echoing around me as if coming from another.

The General’s head lashes in my direction like a whip. His upper lip curls into a snarling grimace, an evil expression that raises the hair at my nape, and reveals crumbling, rotting teeth. His face, hideous, but human, sickens me for reasons that go beyond his outward appearance. He brings shame to humanity. And he’s killed my friend.

“You’re a disgrace to every human being who’s ever lived,” I hiss and feel my anger churn and boil like molten lava as I grip the hilt of my sword so tightly my fingernails bite into the sensitive skin of my palms.

His vile grin widens, and he stills like a serpent readied to strike. Cold eyes watch me, and I wait, reading what’s burrowed deep within them. I notice a faint tick of one brow, and he charges me, veering and slashing at me diagonally. I raise my sword and block the strike. Metal meets metal with a shrill clang. I avoid having my throat slit but the force of his attack is significant. I’m knocked back and lose my footing for a moment.

Putrid laughter oozes from his mouth. He spits a stream of dark, fetid juice. Some of it peppers my boot. I want nothing more than to return the reeking liquid to him, with the toe of my boot lodged firmly in his open mouth.

Shoving back at him with all my might, his blade is forced away from my body. I don’t waste a moment and lunge at him, swiping at his midsection. He deflects my attempt with one hand. With his free hand, he punches me in the temple.

The force of the blow staggers me. I land on my backside. Pain explodes immediately and is followed by a scattering of multicolored dots that glow in my field of vision. They are slowly replaced with murky blotches that fill in until all I see is utter blackness. I fight the compelling urge to submit to the darkness, shaking my head as a gush of warmth trickles from one nostril. I scramble to my feet, refusing to stay down and accept death, and thrust my sword forward. The tip scrapes across his thigh, opening his leg near his groin. The General cries out. Blood spurts from the open wound. He glances at it then heaves his sword high before slicing the space between us. I’m barely able to stop the blade from decapitating me and stumble to the desert floor.

Looking up, I see his towering silhouette eclipse the sun. He launches his foot forward and kicks. His boot connects with my clavicle and hurls me back. He immediately descends on me and is about to punish me with the full force of his strength behind his sword when I see an object catch the light. It careens toward him, flying end over end until it blasts against his torso.

For a moment, The General doesn’t move. He simply regards the dagger wedged in his chest with stunned immobility. I glimpse Sully running toward us holding his other blade, but three Urthmen intercept him. Though I fear for Sully, I know I must finish The General. I spring to my feet. The General snaps out his dazed trance and swings his sword with the dagger bulging from him. Slower and far less accurate than earlier, his blow is easier to dodge. His body is twisted from following through on his swing, leaving his midsection vulnerable. I capitalize on his vulnerability and drive my sword across his flesh. His gut opens, drenching any remaining shirt that isn’t already soaked in lifeblood with more.

A raspy howl passes through his lips. He reaches out and grabs a handful of my shirt, tugging me forward while his helmeted forehead rockets toward mine. Our skulls collide. A supernova of sharp, torturous pain snakes from the point of impact, branching until every nerve in my face shrieks at once. Darkness flickers before my eyes, teasing at my periphery and making the midday sunlight all the more blinding. My sword falls from my hands. I’m no longer able to hold it. The tenuous grip I held on it, on everything, begins to slip through my fingers like grains of sand.

In the distance, I hear Sully shout my name. “Avery!” it echoes all around me. At first his voice is an intangible apparition, distant and ephemeral. But when he shouts my name again, it is a beacon in a swirling ocean of black. I’m vaguely aware of The General still clutching my arm. I blink and am able to discern the dagger still in his chest. I grab hold of it and twist with the remaining strength I possess. He screams and releases me. I drop to one wobbly knee and scoop up my sword. 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. I sway several times, and then try to steady myself. With no Urthmen in the immediate vicinity, my eyes search for Sully. I see him fighting alongside Will and Oliver. They finish off a small group. They, like the people of New Washington, are fighting ferociously, taking out the last few Urthmen that remain standing. One surges toward me. I catch a glimpse of him in my periphery. When his blade is hefted overhead I drive my blade through his heart and he collapses to the ground. And when he does, I see Jericho’s fallen body among the dead Urthmen. I’m struck by a shooting pain of sadness so profound I grip my chest. He saved me in the arena, tried to save me again not long ago, and I was unable to return the favor. I led him to his death on the battlefield.

Tears of shame burn the backs of my eyelids; I’m barely able to see Sully, Will and Oliver when they make their way toward me. Sniffing and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I straighten my posture.

“We got them all,” Sully says with a fierce expression born of pure adrenaline. “We did it.”

Though our losses were great, the hand that grips my sword shoots up into the air and a primal sound echoes from the cavernous hollows of my being. A rolling eruption of cheers answers my call. The name “Azlyn” rises above the roar until it is chanted in unison.

I look to Sully and he nods. “That’s who you are now! You’re Azlyn!” he shouts above the noise.

Goosebumps trail a fiery path across my skin. I cast my eyes to the heavens and see the sun fading below a lavender and salmon sky. Shafts of pure gold stretch in buttery breadths, and for the first time since hearing the name, I consider the possibility that I am Azyln; that I am the character the people of New Washington believe me to be. Perhaps the story they’d heard was prophetic. Perhaps the tales Mary told of a divine being who reigns over all that the sun touches is true, and perhaps He has instilled in me a gift to restore sovereignty to the human race. Perhaps.

No matter how this phenomenon came to pass, that we bested the Urthmen, I am grateful nonetheless. Excitement I’ve never experienced swells within me until it threatens to overflow. We have not won anything yet. This was but a single battle. My excitement stems from the knowledge that today, on this desert battleground, humanity has waged a campaign for freedom. The war for earth has begun.

Jennifer and Christopher Martucci hoped that their life plan had changed radically in early 2009. To date, the jury is still out. But late one night, in January of 2010, the stay-at-home mom of three girls under the age of six had just picked up the last doll from the playroom floor and placed it in a bin when her husband startled her by declaring, “We should write a book, together!” Wearied from a day of shuttling the children to and from school, preschool and Daisy Scouts, laundry, cooking and cleaning, Jennifer simply stared blankly at her husband of fifteen years. After all, the idea of writing a book had been an individual dream each of them had possessed for much of their young adult lives. Both had written separately in their teens and early twenties, but without much success. They would write a dozen chapters here and there only to find that either the plot would fall apart, or characters would lose their zest, or the story would just fall flat. Christopher had always preferred penning science-fiction stories filled with monsters and diabolical villains, while Jennifer had favored venting personal experiences or writing about romance. Inevitably though, frustration and day-to-day life had placed writing on the back burner and for several years, each had pursued alternate (paying) careers. But the dream had never died. And Christopher suggested that their dream ought to be removed from the back burner for further examination. When he proposed that they author a book together on that cold January night, Jennifer was hesitant to reject the idea outright. His proposal sparked a discussion, and the discussion lasted deep into the night. By morning, the idea for the Dark Creations series was born.

The Planet Urth series, The Demon Hunter series, the Vampire Extinction series, as well as the Arianna Rose series and the Dark Creations series are works that were written while Jennifer and Christopher continued about with their daily activities and raised their young children. They changed diapers, potty trained and went to story time at the local library between chapter outlines and served as room parents while fleshing out each section. Life simply continued.

As the storyline continues to evolve, so too does the Martucci collaboration. Lunches are still packed, noses are still wiped and time remains a rare and precious commodity in their household, but it is the sound of happy chaos that is the true background music of their writing. They hope that all enjoy reading their work as much as they enjoyed writing it.

When you turn the page, you may be given the opportunity to express your thoughts on Facebook and Twitter automatically. If you enjoyed our book, would you take a second to click that button and let your friends know about it?

If they get something out of the book, they’ll be grateful to you, and we will be, too!