The Underground City (Book 3): Planet Urth, no. 3 Read online

  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 hip undoubtedly holds a blade.

  “What’s all this about?” Sully says.

  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.

  “Prince Neo,” I murmur. “You heard his name, right?”

  “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 my upper body off the ground 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, still holding onto my hand, 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 know,” Sully agrees gravely.

  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.

  “He-he’s human.” The words fall from my lips, trembling with shock.

  “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, to 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’ve 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.

  “No, no,” 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 with him. More blood of my people has been spilled. I have disgraced them by letting them die. I’ve disgraced myself. I will c
arry 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.

  Chapter 2

  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. I sheathe my blade and resume walking.

  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 sounds to soothe me.

  I continue, as I always do, and focus on what will happen next.

  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 do, too,” I reply.

  His head whips toward me. His gaze probing yet wounded.

  “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.”

  “You would’ve been a fool, too.”

  “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.

  “Then what is it about?”

  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’s 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 then unlocks the door to the old bomb shelter.

  “After you,” he says and sweeps a hand toward the opening.

  “Thanks,” I mutter and begin descending the ladder.

  Above me, Sully shuts the door behind us and engages the lock from the inside.

&nbs
p; 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 out 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.

  “Anything new to report?” Jericho asks.

  “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.