Planet Urth: The Savage Lands (Book 2) (3 page)

I take June’s hand and lead her toward the log Will sits atop.  An expression of confirmation flashes across Will’s face. 

“So we’re all set here?” I ask. 

“I think it’s cool,” Oliver says.  “It’s a really great idea, Avery.” Despite his words, Oliver’s expression isn’t that of a wide-eyed boy, but a young man, wizened by tragedy. 

“Thank you, Oliver,” I say to him.  “I’m glad you’re on board.”  Then to Riley, I say, “How about you, Riley?  Do you think my idea is cool
, too?”

Riley does not answer.  She twists and buries her head in Will’s chest.

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

Me
, too
, I want to say.  But my fear of heights is irrelevant at this point. 

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

“Yeah, absolutely,” Oliver puffs out his chest and adds.

“Of course,” Will says. 

“So it’s settled then.  Let’s hunt and eat quickly and start climbing before the sun sets.”

I hear utterances of agreement and June leaves my side.  She goes to Riley.  Will approaches me.

“Want to hunt together or should one of us stay here and guard the children?” he asks me. 

I would like nothing more than to have him by my side at all times, but I know that it is too dangerous to leave the children unprotected. 

“I’ll go ahead.  You should stay here and watch over the kids.”

Perhaps the time alone will be good.  Hunting comes naturally to me.  I am at home in the woods stalking prey.  Maybe I will gain some perspective off on my own and away from the group. 

“Oh, okay,” Will says reluctantly.  His shoulders hook forward ever so slightly and his gaze drops to the ground below.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think he is disappointed.  I do not know for certain.  

“Okay then,” I say and work a small tuft of weedy growth
back and forth with my foot.  “I guess I should get going.  Dusk will be here soon,” I say and bring up the fast fading day.

“Yeah, you’re right.  See you back here soon,” he says.  One side of his mouth tilts upward; stretching his thick lips enough to make the dip beneath his nose almost disappear.  I tear my eyes from his mouth and take a fleeting look at his eyes before I stalk off in search of a rabbit or some other mammal that will feed the five of us.

I am able to spear a rabbit and a squirrel for our dinner.  We make a small fire and roast the meat once the animals are skinned and gutted.  June extinguishes the fire with dirt and is careful to clear any evidence of our flames, just as our father taught us.  With our bellies full, the time to retreat to the tree is upon us. 

The sky is a faded blue, wan and pallid beside the stunning stretch of brilliant salmon that encircles the setting sun.  Day has not yet surrendered to dusk and the sun is making a final appearance, blazing in its entire splendor.  Though thoroughly terrifying, the sight of the setting sun is breathtakingly beautiful.  I would love to stay and watch it, but more pressing matters demand my attention.  We must get up into the tree before the sun disappears. 

“I think Riley should go first with Oliver right behind her followed by you,” I say to Will when I realize he is standing right beside me, gaping at the sunset. 

“Okay,” he says.

“Next June will go, and I will go last,” I conclude while the children speak to each other quietly. 

“Okay,” he says again, his eyes fixed on the glowing sphere of orange blazing closer to the horizon line with each moment that passes.

“Okay,” I echo his word choice.  “I think we should go now.”

Will turns to me.  His tan s
kin is warmed by radiant rays of pure gold.  His pale blue-green eyes are luminous and watching me intently. 

I do not know what to say.  All words have escaped me.  He reaches out a hand and places it on my cheek lightly.  His thumb strokes my cheekbone so gently it makes the fine hairs on my body rise. 

I try to inhale, but my breathing snags.  He is close, so close to me I can smell his skin, feel his heat.  I do not know what he is doing, why he is cupping my face with one hand.  All I do know is that I wish he would keep doing it, that we could stay as we are forever. 

“Avery,” he says my name and my
heart sets off at a gallop.  He opens his mouth to speak again, but before a sound slips from him, Riley’s voice calls out.

“Will!” Riley cries.  “Come on!  I need you with me before we go!” she says.

His eyes leave my face slowly, along with his hand, and whatever Will was about to say remains a secret only he knows. 

I inhale and exhale several times before I rejoin our group.  When I do, we make our way to the elm tree.
  Will hoists Riley as high as he can, and as soon as her feet touch bark, she begins climbing.  Oliver goes next followed by Will. 

“Don’t stop until I tell you to, okay?” I say exactly what my dad said to me the night we sought refuge in a tree just like the one I stand before.

Will and his siblings agree.

“June, it’s your turn,” I say and give her a reassuring hug from behind.  She pats my forearms and places one foot on a knot protruding from the trunk.  She begins climbing. 

After a quick scan of the surrounding woods, I trail behind her.  I ask Riley and Oliver to stop once they are high in the tree branches, nearing the point where the limbs become too frail to hold the weight of a child, much less adults such as Will and me.  I sit on a branch opposite Will, Riley and Oliver and watch as the sun melts into the skyline.  Darkness descends quickly. 

Bloodsuckers swarm my face as I clutch June’s waist with one arm and the branch of the tree I am sitting on with the other.  I want nothing more than to shake my head from side to side wildly and swat the air around my face.  But I cannot.  I must endure the onslaught of mosquitos and allow them to feast on me.  Being their human buffet table, though annoying, is a welcome alternative to being a midnight snack to a Lurker.  I squeeze my eyes shut and repeat that fact in my head again and again.  But when I hear the swish of grass below, they snap open.  I glance
beneath me, through the intricately interwoven network of branches, and see dark shadows, oily and blacker than the pitch darkness.  Lurkers, I am certain, are stealing about.  They slink by, prowling in the night.  I hold my breath.  I do not dare look down again and risk my stomach pitching before diving to my feet and silently hope they do not sense us. 

When the soft sound of grass rustling passes, I fill my lungs with air and offer thanks to whatever nocturnal animal they were likely tracking.  I lower my chin and peek fleetingly at the earth below before returning my gaze to June, then to Oliver and Riley.  As I scan their faces, I realize that Riley has dozed off.  Will’s arms are wrapped around her protectively, but his eyes are locked on my face. 

In the weak light provided by innumerable stars dotting the inky-black sky and an anemic-looking not quite full moon, I can make out the lines of his face, the chiseled angles of his chin.  And I feel him watching me.  A slight breeze whispers through the treetop we are tucked in.  My stomach sways along with the branches.  Despite being completely sapped of energy and more spent that I can ever remember being, knowing that Will is watching me sends a jolt rocketing through my insides.  We exchange a knowing expression that makes my scalp tighten and tingle despite my extremely uncomfortable position, and the fact that I am perched high in a tree with murderous Lurkers stalking in the vicinity. 

Another breeze stirs the leaves and thin branches around us.  I take a cursory glance in the distance and see that other treetops do not move.  Goose bumps prickle my arms as waves of apprehension sweep over me.  The stillness all around me is unnatural compared the odd, intermittent whooshes of air that puff toward us.  I look at Will.  He seems to notice what I observed. He looks from the stillness beyond our tree to the wavering leaves, limbs and foliage around us.  His brow furrows and I feel certain something is not right. 

I am about to motion to him when a large splotchy shape streaks past us.  It is so quick I almost miss it.  And as it passes, it sends a small burst of air our way much like the breeze I thought I’d felt.  Will’s gaze follows the greasy form as it doubles back toward us.  It slips in our direction, only closer this time, and I hear the beat of wings flapping against the ether. 

A gust of wind wafts in my face and I am tempted to shield myself against it, but I do not.  Instead, I remain, eyes wide open, and look on in horror at the winged creature gliding toward us.  Its body is easily the size of mine, only it looks nothing like a human, or anything else I’ve ever seen for that matter.  Large ears prick upward, stabbing at the sky and standing at attention, while shining eyes, pitch-black and darker than the night itself, pierce the space between us.  But neither its eyes nor its ears are what make the creature terrifying to behold, not even its pale, wrinkled, snout-like muzzle.  The most chilling aspect of its appearance lies lower.  A broad mouth is opened wide revealing razor-sharp incisors and oversized blade-like canines. 

Shockwaves rip through my body and my heart feels as if it will explode. 

“Oh my gosh,” I breathe as it dives toward us and emits a shriek that curdles my blood.

June startles.  Her eyes snap open and she sees the winged creature.  She gasps and starts to scream, but I slap my hand over her mouth and remind her where we are in a low voice.  “Don’t make a sound,” I warn her.  “Lurkers will hear you.”

The beast is close, its beady eyes trained on us.  It caws and zips past us.  I am certain it intends to circle back. 

The sound and the flurry of activity will draw attention to us, Lurkers will come for sure.  That is, if the creature does not attack us first.  I cannot allow either to happen.  I lean close to June and whisper, “Hold tight to the center of the tree.  Do not let go.  Do you hear me?”

June nods and I let go of her waist slowly.  I lift my legs and slide them both to one side then push myself up to a crouching position.  I stand carefully and grip a branch above me as soon as it is within reach.  I widen my stance then draw my sword.  I wait for the bat-like beast to return. 

I hear the whoosh of air as the creature swoops toward us, its jaw unhinged.  My heart batters my ribcage so hard I fear a rib will be damaged in the process.  I am panting when the beast comes within reach.  I haul my sword high overhead with one arm and cleave the air.  My blade meets with flesh and carves straight through it until it is freed on the other side.  I have beheaded the beast.  Its head careens to the ground below immediately, followed by the body, and both land with a
clunk
.  The follow-through makes me begin to lose my footing and cling to the branch overhead, all the while squeezing the hilt of my sword so tightly with my other hand that my palms burn.  I regain my balance just in time to watch a pack of Lurkers descend on the head.  They begin devouring the meat that rained from the sky, but not before sniffing the air and investigating the area around them.  They yelp and chuff softly.  I crouch and sheathe my sword then slide beside June and press us both to the center of the tree.  Will and his siblings do the same. 

We remain out of sight until the wet slopping sound of feeding returns and we feel confident the Lurkers have resumed feasting.  We breathe a collective sigh of relief when finally they finish and move on.  June’s body shivers next to mine and I hold her tight until her body stills and her breathing becomes even.  Several times during the night, I feel my grip on her slacken, feel my body tip forward and begin to fall, but catch myself just in time. 

The night creeps at a painfully sluggish pace.  I fear I will fall so I do not sleep, save for the intermittent dozing that leads to waking with a terrified start.  When day finally dawns, I feel as if I may cry.  I am bone-tired; exhausted in a way that surpasses physical exhaustion.  But I know a daunting task awaits me.  I must climb down from the tree.  And I must hike for the entire day. 

I groan and June stirs. 

“It’s morning!” she exclaims as soon as the bleariness leaves her eyes.  “You were right, Avery!  You were right all along.  I’m so sorry I doubted you,” she whispers. 

“Me
, too,” Will surprises me by saying.  “You saved us again last night from that . . . monster,” he adds.  “I owe you a debt I’ll never be able to repay.” His voice is sincere and serious.

“You owe me nothing,” I say softly and look him in his eyes.  Then to the children I say, “We need to get down from here.  I don’t know about any of you, but my backside is numb.”

A series of chuckles ripple among them and one by one, we make our way down the tree. 

I do not know where our next journey will take u
s and I don’t know what the future holds.  All I know is that as long as blood pumps through my veins, I will fight to keep us safe.  I will fight for our right to live.

Chapter 2

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