Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) (14 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I ask him, dumbfounded. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If we don’t do it, they will get help and hunt us down,” I tell Will. 

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

“Shut your mouth!” I warn him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he begs.

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

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

His last sentence lands like a slap across my face. 

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

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

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

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

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

“We will,” the male Urthma
n says.

“Thank you so much,” the female says.

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

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

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

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

Chapter 8

“Run faster!” I scream to Will, Riley, Oliver and June.  I grab June’s hand and jerk her forward, in front of me.  “Come on, come on!” I urge Riley and Oliver too.  They must remain where I can see them, and we all need to get as far away as fast as possible.  We flee from where Urthmen are approaching.

“You think we’re stupid, don’t you,
humans?” I hear the male Urthman whose home we were just in call out after us. 

His inhuman voice no longer sounds civil, and it certainly does not sound pleading.  It has returned to what Urthmen always sound like, a voice that is tinny and grating and slices at my eardrums like innumerable blades. 
And it taunts us.

“Don’t look back!” I tell the children when I see Oliver screw up his features and glance over his shoulder.  “Just keep running!”

Cruel laughter erupts between the male and female.  “You thought we would just let filthy humans run free in our town!  Ha!  You will be dead long before the sun rises!” the female cries.

Rage
wells from a cavernous reserve, inundating every cell in my body as it overflows. 

A dark recess deep
within me, hidden and coiled tightly like a venomous snake, beckons me to run back and do what should have been done in the first place.  But I must deny it.  I must deny an inherent part of me that demands their blood be spilled.  Instead, I press on.  I sprint away from the male and female. 

We run along the blackened street.  The glow of the moon has faded, its light hidden behind a bank of cl
ouds.  We cover a lot of ground and pass numerous cross streets.  I feel my blood throbbing against my skin in time with my speeding heartbeat.  My flesh struggles to contain it.  I pump my arms and pant as I race.  But before long, I notice the children slowing. 

“I can’t,” I hear June gasp
as her grip on my hand goes slack.  “It hurts too much.”

One
hand flies to her side and clutches what is undoubtedly an aching stitch that has developed.  Even in the thick, sinister darkness, I can see that she grimaces.  I hate that this is her reality now, running, always running for her life.

“No, June.  Keep going,” I encourage her despite the fact that my entire body is
hurting and trembling also. 

My breathing is labored.  My arms and legs sting unbearably.  Each sears with
fatigue. 

I peek over my shoulder, slowing only slightly as I do, and see torches are still advancing. 
Anger crops up inside of me, and it is not earmarked for the male and female Urthmen exclusively.  I am angry with Will as well.  I listened to him, even though I should not have.  I allowed my feelings for him, as confusing as they are, to cloud my judgment; to cause me to deviate from what I know is right.  And now we are paying the price for my clouded judgment.  As I run, I vow to never let it happen again.  My feelings must never interfere with the safety of my sister and I. 

“Turn here,” I tell our group
between choppy breaths as we come upon a turnoff street.  Everyone does as I have told them to, including Will. 

When
I round the corner and make my way down the side street, I steal a look over my shoulder and see that some of the torches that glow eerily in the void have stopped moving.  Only a few are following us as far as I can tell.  I am tempted to breathe a sigh of relief.  But a sinking feeling in my gut prevents me from doing so.  I know that Urthmen do not easily give up.  They do not retreat.  They kill.

I try to force their deadly nature to the back of my mind when the pitch-back darkness becomes disorienting. 

“Will, I can’t keep going,” Riley says.  Her voice is thin as she barely manages to speak between breaths.  She has slowed considerably and is jogging now. 

Will rushes to her side and places an arm around her waist for support. 
“I gotcha,” he says.  “I’ll help.”

“No, I’ll slow you down,” Riley pants dejectedly. 

“No you won’t.  I’ll carry you if I have to,” Will tells his sister. 

As mad as I am at him, I admire his dedication to his sister.  Unfortunately, carrying Riley would slow Will almost as much as her lethargic trot is slowing him now.  I need to come up with something else, something that will buy the children time to catch their breath.

Another cross-street catches my attention.  I almost missed it smothered in the oily shadows that coat the area.  An idea forms in my mind.

I do not have time to think it through and time is running out.
I do not know how much longer the children have before complete exhaustion claims them and they collapse.  I must act now.  I must go off on my own.

“Take the kids and keep going straight,” I tell Will.  “I’m going this way,” I say and point
back in the direction we came from. 

“No!” Will whispers so loudly his voice borders on a normal volume for speaking. 

“Shh!” I shush him.  “Do you want them to hear you?”

“Sorry,” he
says quietly.  “But you can’t go off alone.  We need to stay together.”

“We can’t.  The kids are tired and slowing.  The Urthmen will be on us in no time if I don’t do this,” I say.

“We can make it.  I can carry Riley, trust me,” Will says.

A bitter huffing sound escapes my lips. 
Frustration, fear and fury plow through my body as one.  “Trusting you got us where we are now,” I mumble under my breath and feel my upper lip curl over my teeth.  I can’t believe I allowed the words to fall from my lips, no matter how quiet they were.  I am angrier than I originally thought.

Will does not respond to my comment
.  Perhaps he did not hear me.  I cannot tell.  I cannot see his face clearly through what feels like layers of impenetrable darkness.  I only hear his voice echoing. “Come on Avery, I can do it.  Don’t you believe me?” he tries to persuade me by saying.

I feel something in me stretch so far that it thins and threatens to snap.  “No, Will, I don’t,” I growl. 
“And from here on out, I call the shots.  Take the kids and go, now,” I say in a tone that does not leave room for argument or compromise.  “I’ll catch up and find you,” I say just before I turn back and speed my pace, slapping the soles of my shoes against the pavement loudly so that I all but guarantee I will be heard and pursued by Urthmen. 

I
move down the side street and instantly see an old, broken down car we passed moments ago.  I crouch low and duck behind it, waiting for the torch wielding Urthmen to make their appearance.  I hear the tapping of their boots as they approach and dread tiptoes down the length of my spine.  But it is coupled with something else, an entirely different sensation.  Ire and hate boil together and gurgle beneath my flesh.  I am frightened, yet a part of me eagerly anticipates the impending confrontation.  I yearn to vent my wrath.  I have a score to settle. 

I unsheathe my spear from the scabbard at my back.  I ready myself to act, gripping the weapon so tightly it bites into my palm.  The footfalls draw nearer. 
All of my emotions converge and bombard me at once.  I worry I will hyperventilate from overload.  Outwardly I am still, as poised as a wildcat just before it pounces. 

I see the torches. 
There are three of them, and they are close.  They light paths that make the Urthmen’s presence known long before their arrival.  But I have an advantage.  Their light glows on them, not me.  I see them, and judging from their actions, they do not see me.  I watch them through a busted out window in the car.  Their black eyes glow with fiery light and make them look even more grotesque than they already look, a feat I thought impossible. 

Just as they are about to pass, I stand slowly, quietly.  I think of my mother, of Will
’s parents, of Riley and Oliver, Will and June, of myself and all the others who perished at the hands of the mutant species that reigns over the planet, and I launch my spear. 

The sharpened tip pierces the air and carves a path through the inky darkness and rockets straight into the back of one of the Urthmen’s heads.  I bend down in time to hear the famil
iar sound of a female Urthman’s voice scream out in pain.  I raise enough to carefully peer out through the broken window once again.  I see that one has fallen, the female I presume, and the other two spin around, looking in every direction. 

Their hideous faces are etched in confusion.  They search for the source of the attack and o
ne makes his way toward the car. I watch him and wait. 

My muscles twitch from holding my crouched position for so long, and with expectancy.  He begins to walk to where I stay.  I scuttle around the car
holding my sword firmly and close to my body.  When he comes around, I spring to my feet and drive my blade through his midsection.

His
mouth opens wide and he emits a strange groaning sound.  The section of his shirt my blade entered becomes tinged in an expanding pool of garnet.  I retrieve my sword and watch as the Urthman wobbles and staggers backward a few steps.  He looks down at the wet spot on his shirt that surrounds a gaping wound.  I do not waste time.  I take advantage of his shock and kick him.  He topples over and crashes to the ground.  When he is flat on his back, I plunge my blade in the center of his chest to ensure he does not get up.