Chapter 9
My heart pumps frantically and echoes the hurried pace of my footsteps as I journey through the forest toward the outer banks to warn the family near the lake. My insides quiver and my mouth is dry, but I know the option to chicken out does not exist. I must overcome my overwhelming anxiety and go to them. Lives are at stake, five to be exact, and that’s not including June and I.
Despite the direness of the situation, the thought of crossing the thin strip of woods and coming face to face with them makes the contents of my full belly somersault endlessly. For once, having breakfast seems to be working against me. Every time I picture myself approaching the family, my food threatens to launch up my esophagus. I take deep breaths to calm myself, but they are of little help. I am still a nervous wreck. But I must warn them. I must warn the boy with the shimmering eyes.
Just thinking of him sends a jolt from my stomach to my feet. My knees feel weak. I realize my fear is less about the mother, father, and younger children than it is about the boy who looks close to my age. Thinking about standing arm’s length from him makes me lightheaded. Speaking to him might make me faint.
What if I faint? The question whirls through my head. What if I see the boy with the aquamarine eyes, faint, and never even warn him and his family that they are in danger? I will make a complete fool of myself and fail to accomplish the task I set out to achieve. The worry joins the multitude of other worries swimming around in my brain and worsens the tumbling in my belly. The last thing I need right now is to play out possible scenarios in my mind, especially ones that involve me failing, fainting, or falling. Imagining any of those possibilities works against my waning courage. I will get there in one piece, still standing, and I will warn them.
I continue repeating that sentence in my head over and over. It becomes a rally cry as I slip through the forest. But with each step I take, the challenges to my self-confidence are replaced by the sensation that I am not alone.
I quiet my racing thoughts and focus every bit of my energy on the space surrounding me. Every twig that snaps, every shuffle of leaves and stir of treetops sets my heightened senses on even higher alert. I lower my stance to a crouch, clutching the hilt of my sword as I dash through the woods. I swear I feel eyes on me. But what I believe are the sounds of footsteps following me stops me dead in my tracks. I unsheathe my sword and spin around, ready to fight. I expect to see the deadly, milky-eyed stare of an Urthman. Instead, I see a plump rabbit watching me with oversized eyes that sit unusually close together on its face. I take bold step toward it, warning it off. It hops away, but not before unhinging its jaw, showcasing its impressive fangs, and hissing at me.
I contemplate running after it and adding rabbit to our boart feast later, but I do not have the time. Each moment I am not moving is a moment wasted. I slowly turn from the rabbit’s path and head to the lake.
My run-in with the Urthmen the day before has shattered my feeble sense of safety. Now, as I tread in unfamiliar territory, I feel an added element of fear. I believe these woods could be overrun with Urthmen. I quicken my pace and jog; thankful for the boart meat I ate this morning. It supplies me with enough energy to continue until the sun is high overhead and the twisting vines underfoot become so dense and tangled that I must slow down. As I do, I hear the river and know the lake is nearby. My moment has come.
When I reach the edge of the woods, where the trees grow farther apart and the brush thins, I see them. The family is out of their cave and sprinkled around the lake. I must go to them. It is the reason I came.
I slide one foot forward, and it feels heavier than usual, unstable. I am dizzy and nauseated. I feel cold though it is warm. My palms are damp and the base of my throat throbs in time with my racing heartbeat. My mind wills my body to move, but my body is reluctant to cooperate. I am a quivering bundle of contradicting signals. I do not understand what is happening to me. I have slain wild animals, have fought and killed mutant beasts known as Urthmen, but those tasks generated less of a physical response than my current undertaking. I feel as if I may need to vomit. I pull in a sharp breath of air in hopes it will have the same effect as before. To my surprise, it does not. Instead, my legs are shaking violently. So I do what has become typical of me in recent days. I duck behind a hostile-looking bush and stay there to try to build my courage.
My cheeks burn. I am embarrassed of my behavior. The family’s safety depends on me alerting them that a threat is on the horizon. I cannot let them die because I am a coward. I will not live with more blood on my hands.
I stand, emboldened by the knowledge that lives depend on me. I close my eyes briefly, and then take a step forward, then another, and another. I keep going, putting one foot in front of the other, until I am at the shore of the lake. I see all of them, the entire family. Each of their heads whips in my direction. I quickly raise my hands up, my palms facing outward, in surrender. I do not want them to feel threatened. I want to communicate that I will not do them harm.
“Hello,” I say because I do not know what else to say. I have not seen another human being in a long time. My socialization has been limited to June in the last year.
Glances volley from one person to the next, and though I have been consciously avoiding looking at the boy with the aquamarine eyes, I turn my head and meet his gaze. A small smile plays across his lips.
My breath catches in my chest. I wonder if he is smiling at me because he is happy to see me, or if I have done something stupid. Thankfully, his mother’s voice yanks me from fretting about it.
“You can put your hands down,” she says. “You are not a threat.”
I am not a threat; to them at least. But if they only knew of my hunting and sparring skills, that I killed two Urthmen by myself just yesterday, the woman might have thought twice about counting me out in the threat department.
“My name is Avery,” I begin, but my words are suddenly smothered by the woman’s shoulder when she wraps both arms around me and brings me in for a tight hug.
“Avery,” she says my name aloud. “You have a beautiful name befitting your beautiful face.”
I wonder how she could possibly know what my face really looks like. It is buried in the space between her neck and elbow, but I keep that detail to myself. She sounds as though she may cry and I do not want to upset her further. Especially since I do not know why she is so upset. I am perplexed by her words and actions. She hugged me and complimented me, yet she is sad. I do not know what to do. I stiffen a bit and she releases me.
“Oh, gosh, I am so sorry,” she says. She brushes back tears with the tips of her fingers. “It has been so long since we’ve seen another.”
“We haven’t seen another human in a few months,” the man whom I presume is her husband says. “Kate is just so happy to see you. We are all so happy to see you.”
I awkwardly shift my weight from one foot to the other as I blink back the hot tears that threaten unexpectedly.
“Oh dear,” Kate says and shakes her head. “You’ve introduced yourself and here we are not doing the same. I guess that’s what isolation does to people,” she says.
I smile tightly. I know all too well about isolation. But I do not speak. I do not trust that my voice will hold up. I feel eyes on me, and if they belong to whom I think they belong to, I do not want to risk breaking down in front of him.
“I am Kate, and this is my husband, Asher. And these are our children,” she begins. “This is my daughter Riley and my sons Oliver,” she points to the smaller boy, “and Will.”
Will. The boy I’ve been watching for the last two days is named Will. I say his name in my head and each time my stomach flutters. I inexplicably feel like twirling. I don’t, of course. I look from face to face and smile at the new people I’ve met. I mutter something about being pleased to meet them as my dad instructed me was proper to do if or when I ever met ano
ther human. But when I get to Will, my smile capsizes. He looks directly into my eyes and heat creeps up my neck and spreads over my cheeks. A boy has never looked at me the way Will is looking at me right now. Probably because the last time I saw a boy my age was when I was eight and lived in the village, and even then, I had not seen many boys at all.
“Glad to meet you, Avery,” Will says.
My heart sets off at a gallop. I wonder if he can see it bashing my ribs, if it is causing my shirt to drum visibly. I bite my lower lip and look at my feet. I am grateful when his sister Riley starts talking.
“Avery, I’m so glad you’re here. Another girl makes things even. You can be my sister,” Riley’s eyes light up, and she bounces on the balls of her feet the way June does.
“Uh, thanks,” I say self-consciously.
“Who says she’s staying?” Oliver asks unexpectedly.
Kate and Asher’s glances shoot in Oliver’s direction.
“Oliver!” his mother says with obvious embarrassment. “Say you are sorry.”
“No, don’t. You don’t have to be sorry,” I say quickly. “I am not staying. And neither should you. That is why I am here actually.” I dive into my purpose of coming without thinking.
Five sets of eyes land on me.
“What? What are you talking about?” Kate asks. Her soft brown eyes are fixed on mine. She is crestfallen. “Why would you want to be alone?”
I look at her and Asher then to the smaller children. “Maybe we can talk somewhere else,” I say when my gaze returns to them.
“Oh, I see,” Asher says and takes my rather obvious hint. Then to the children he says cheerfully, “Can you two go to the cave and collect the clothes? We need to start our chores.”
The children’s faces droop, but they take off toward the mouth of the cave before their father utters another word. I smile at Asher and he smiles back, but it does not reach his eyes. Worry seems to be weighing down his face.
Kate folds her arms across her chest and Asher places a hand on her back.
“So what is it you need to speak with us about?” Kate asks with concern.
“Urthmen are here,” I answer and watch as my words transform their demeanors.
“Urthmen?” Will repeats. His voice makes my scalp tighten and tingle, even though it should not. The circumstances are grave, but I am powerless to stop the effect his voice has on me. His hands rocket to his hips, fists balled. “How do you know?” he asks.
“I saw them,” I say. “I killed two in the woods right beyond this lake.”
Will cocks a brow, as if he does not believe me. A quick look at his parents tells me he is not alone in his doubt that I could kill not one, but two, Urthmen.
“You killed two Urthmen?” Asher asks. I hear the disbelief in his voice and feel my temper flare ever so slightly. I am not used to proving myself to anyone. I am what I am, and that is not up for debate or question. If I say I did something, I did it. In the world we live in, exaggeration does not possess a benefit. If any other humans exist in other areas, they either have the skills to survive, or they do not. The ones who do not are likely dead.
My spine lengthens and my shoulders straighten. “Yes, I did,” I say in a strong, clear voice.
“But, uh, you are so small,” Kate says and looks embarrassed by her words.
“My size means little. My father trained me well. I hunt each day for my sister and me, and have killed boarts as well as the two Urthmen yesterday.”
Kate, Asher, and Will look at me skeptically.
“Believe me or don’t believe me. I know what I saw and I know what happened. The Urthmen are dead. I would show you their bodies, but I’m pretty sure Lurkers took care of them as soon as the sun went down last night. I came here to warn you,” I say as annoyance blisters inside of me. I am not accustomed to this kind of interaction, the exchanges of secret glances, and the subtle facial expressions that doubt my integrity. “I also came to invite all of you to stay at the cave I share with my sister. It is a quarter of a day’s walk from here, so I suggest you gather your things and come along. Do not waste any time. We need to go right away.”
I expect the three of them to begin moving and gathering their belongings, but they don’t. They stand perfectly still as if they’re made of stone.
I clear my throat, wondering whether I imagined what I just said to them.
“Uh, you guys heard me just now, right?” I ask quietly. My stomach feels like a bag filled with snakes slithering and rolling over one another.
“Yes, we heard you,” Kate says, and tilts her head to one side the way I do when June is melting down. “But I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say thank you for the invite, but we will be fine here.”
Her words do not register in my brain right away. I am dumbfounded by what I have just heard. “What?” I ask and hope I was wrong, that I did not just hear her say she and her family plan to risk their lives and stay where they are with Urthmen afoot.
“We are not going with you,” Asher says and I feel as if I have just been punched in the gut. “We are safe here.”
His face is so smooth, so calm, as if what I’ve just told him is so absurd, he cannot not even react to it. But it is true. Two Urthmen had been close to their camp, too close. I want to shake each of them and shout in their faces that they are being ridiculous, that they will be found and killed. But if I did that, it would solidify any ideas they already have about me. The best thing I can do now is walk away and put Kate, Asher, Oliver, Riley, and Will out of my thoughts.
“I see,” I say, and do not mask my disappointment and shock. “I hope you are heavily armed.”
I stalk off toward the woods. Scalding tears stream down my cheeks. I know their names, I have met them, but I wish I hadn’t. Now I know more people who will die.
I am just past the area where I hid behind the bush when a voice calls out to me.
“Avery! Hey Avery, wait up!” Will exclaims.
“Quiet!” I hiss. “Do you want to announce where you are?” I ask heatedly.
His features rumple and he stops walking for a moment.
“What do you want, Will? Did you come to mock me as I leave?” I do not hide my frustration.
“No,” he says. “Nothing like that. I just want to talk to you.”
He stops an arm’s length from me. This close, I can see every detail of his face, the brilliant blue-green of his pale eyes, the dip of his upper lip just below his straight nose, and the smooth, even quality of his skin. It looks as if it would feel like a rose petal. Still, I am angry that he and his family treated me like a liar, and chose to stay and face certain death rather than listen to me.
“What do you want to talk to me about?” I huff. “Didn’t you and your parents say everything that needed to be said back there?”
“Why did you run from me yesterday? Why did you run away?”
I want to tell him I was afraid, that the thought of talking to him made me so nervous my legs froze, that I am still nervous, but the words die on my lips.
“Turns out it was the right thing to do,” I say. “I should never have come back.”
A pang of hurt flickers in his eyes. I regret being so harsh. I open my mouth to tell him I am sorry, but he speaks first.
“I am sorry about how my parents were, how I was, back there,” he says.
I am too surprised by what he has said to respond right away. My mouth is agape and an uncomfortable silence fills the space between us. I consider bolting out of sight, but my legs are leaden once again.
“You are?” I mumble.
“Yes, I am,” he says and reaches out. His fingertips graze my forearm and send a euphoric shock of bliss racing straight up my arm and down my back. “You put yourself in grave danger to do the right thing, to come back here and warn us.”
“So you believe me?” I
am mesmerized by the pastel azure and emerald in his eyes that undulate like waves in water.
“I do,” he says and holds me with his gaze.
“Then you need to talk to them. You need to get them to leave as soon as possible. It is not safe here. The Urthmen I killed were here, just past where we are now, in broad daylight. And if they were here, others know about the area, they know about you.”
A crease forms between Will’s brows as the weight of my words settle on him. A small muscle by his jaw flexes.
“Please,” I continue. “Get your family out of here.”
“I will. I will convince them,” he says. “I do not want to be like the others we’ve met over the years.
“Others?”
“Yes, the other humans we have met.”
“You have met other humans?” I feel my eyebrows rocket toward my hairline.
“Yes, we traveled for a long time before we settled here and saw many like us, colonies, in fact. But the ones we found hid and kept to themselves for the most part. They are killed off regularly.” Will frowned. “I think that’s why my parents are so hesitant about leaving. This is the first real home we’ve had, and it’s close to the river and lake. We have everything we need here. It’s much better than what most have.”
“I understand,” I say. I want to tell him about the village I lived in, about my mother and father, about June. There is so much I want to say, but time is ticking. I need to hurry back before night falls. My journey is long. I wish I could stay here for hours, gazing at Will, and exchanging stories. But I can’t. “I have to leave. I have to get home before the sun sets.”
Will’s shoulders sag. I would have missed it if I weren’t so focused on everything about him. I saw the small change in his posture. I wonder whether he is disappointed that I am leaving. The idea makes my insides teem like a full beehive.
“Oh,” Will says. “So this is it? This is the end of our, uh, you know, meeting each other?” he says nervously.
“No,” I say and surprise both of us. “I will come back tomorrow. I’ll see if you’ve convinced them to go. If they decide to come with me, they will need me to lead the way to the cave I share with my sister.”
Will’s lips collapse to form a hard line. “Is it safe for you to come back?”
“According to your family, yes, it is,” I say bitterly, and as soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
He stares at his feet then, he glances at me through a thick fringe of dark lashes.
“I will be as cautious as I was today,” I say. “I am always careful. My sister is young. She needs me. I am all she has.”
“And you risked yourself to come here and warn us.” His voice is thick with apology.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “I did.” My words hang in the air between us for several beats. “I must go.” I tell him again.
I turn and begin to walk away from Will.
“What is her name?”
“Who?” I twist and ask.
“Your sister, what is your sister’s name?”
“June. Her name’s June and she is about the same age as Riley,” I say with a half-smile.
Will’s face brightens. “Tell June I say hello, okay?”
“I will,” I reply.
I turn and resume walking. I sense Will’s eyes on me and feel my cheeks flush. My trip was not a success by the standards I set forth when I left, but I am pleased, nevertheless. In fact, I smile so broadly my cheeks hurt. I replay every word he spoke, how he looked when he talked, and most importantly, the moment when he touched my arm. Though brief, the contact was like lightning bolting beneath my skin, exhilarating and delightful. My entire body shivers like leaves in the wind. I have no recollection of ever being touched by another human who was not related to me. Will was the first. I wonder what it would feel like to touch him back, to run my fingers over the lean cords of muscle that twine up his forearm. I hope to find out, and that hope twists in my chest.
Hope is dangerous. Humans are an endangered species. Still, I find myself indulging in it, imagining a future, a life with Will in it. Even if my hope is futile, I enjoy it while I walk. The distance seems smaller and time passes quicker as a result. I have not prepared for how I will tell June about the family’s rejection of my offer. I do not know what I will say or how I will tell her that I plan to go back there for a fourth day in a row, knowing fully that Urthmen have infiltrated our safety. I am certain of only two things: I will pass along Will’s message; I will share his greeting with her. And I will go back to him in the morning.