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

  I force a smile then return my attention to the 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 Sully 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.

  “I have an idea,” he announces abruptly.

  “It better be a good one,” Will says.

  “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.

  “So?” Will asks.

  “So we’re going to blow it.”

  Will and I exchange glances. Jericho doesn’t say a word. His expression is pensive as he begins stroking his chin.

  “What? You can’t be serious!” Will says.

  “Oh, trust me, I’m serious.” Sully nods, his eyes narrowed.

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

  “There it is,” Sully says and gestures to a massive metal structure ahead.

  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.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  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. He moves to the driver’s seat. “Jericho, I’ll take over driving. I need you to get all the explosives we have.”

  “You got it, Sully,” Jericho agrees.

  Sully holds the steering wheel still while Jericho slips from the seat, transferring drivers seamlessly. The camper slows for only a fraction of a second when Jericho’s foot slides off the gas pedal.

  Once away from the driver’s seat, Jericho 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.” Sully says softly. His words, so tender and sincere, feather across the shell of my ear and down my neck. “You’re going to be fine.”

  I nod feebly.

  “Here we go,” Sully says as we begin crossing the bridge. “We’ll be fine,” he continues to encourage me.

  “Okay, okay,” I say and breathe deeply.

  When we reach the midpoint of the span Sully slows the camper 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 than 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.” He addresses the group then turns to me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you,” he 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 explosives 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, get the kids back on the camper now!” I yell.

  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.

  “We have to go now!” I shout.

  “I’m done, let’s go!” Sully screams.

  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 u
s. They’ve just about reached the section of the bridge we rigged with explosives.

  “Now!” Sully screams and sends my pulse spiraling out of control.

  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.

  That sensation is interrupted by the blare of a horn, our horn.

  “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.

  Chapter 8

  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.

  “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.”

  “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 is 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. Will’s arm behind me makes me jumpy.

  “He was.” Will nods. “Think he’s still after us?”

  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 queasy.

  He returns my smile. “Avery.” He says my name and my heart rate takes off at a gallop. “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 any feelings he has for me, or any I may have for 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.

  Suddenly, I can’t think of a reason to go. I can’t think of anything. All I can think of is Will.

  He takes another small step toward me, his 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. 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.

  “I don’t want to talk now,” I say breathlessly, my chest heaving.

  “Then we don’t have to talk.”

  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 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.

  I try to pull away. I slide my hands between us, placing them against the hard planes of his chest. I attempt a feeble push, resisting the weak flicker of fire that swirls in my veins. But he drops his hands to my waist and pulls me tight, trying to deepen our kiss.

  Thoughts flitter frantically in my brain, chaotic and colliding at once. Will’s lips on mine should feel right. Weeks ago, I dreamed of this happening. Now that it is, however, all I can think of is slipping away from him.

  I remind myself 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 entire body.

  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.”