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

  I rub the dull ache forming at my temples. “What? What makes sense?”

  “I know what this is all about. Sully,” he drawls the word.

  My heads snaps up. “Sully?”

  “Yeah, Sully.”

  My features scrunch in astonishment.

  “Oh don’t pretend to be surprised. Nice try though. If I didn’t know better, I’d have believed you.”

  “I’m not pretending.”

  “So you’re not interested in Sully?” His words are more of an accusation that a question.

  “What? Sully? No. I’m not, not at all,” I reply. My voice, suddenly shrill and shaky, is inexplicably devoid of conviction.

  He levels an unflinching gaze my way then releases a loud breath. “Even you don’t believe what you’re saying,” he says then turns from me and stalks toward the front of the camper.

  Cold is left in the wake of his absence. I wrap my arms around my waist and hold tightly. I didn’t mean what I said, only not the part about Sully. It was the part about us not happening before we made it to New Washington. We already happened. And the kiss happened. Now everything is different.

  Refusing to let this be the way things are left between us, I march after Will and make my way to the front of the camper. He hovers behind Oliver who’s chatting companionably with June. I reach out a hand to tap his shoulder but retract is as if it were perched over fire the moment Sully says, “What the heck is that?” His tone is unlike I’ve ever heard it before. It sends dread tiptoeing down the length of my spine.

  I rush to his side and peer out the windshield.

  Through the pouring rain, I see a large sign on the side of the road. Letters, along with a large object, are on it. I squint to see both. The driving rain and lashing winds conspire against my effort. After practically pressing my face to the glass, I finally see that one word is crudely scrawled on a plank of wood. Painted in bright red, it reads “stray.”

  “Stray?” The word perplexes me. I know it to mean lost or homeless and that it referred to animals once domesticated by humans. It also means to wander off. I’m about to ask why a sign would say such a word when my gaze zeroes in on what is affixed to the sign. I gasp, my hand flying to my mouth and covering it. “Oh my gosh! Is that—” I start, but can’t form the words.

  I’ve seen many things in my young life, many horrifying, nightmare-inducing, terrible things. They’ve all left an impression on me, an indelible scar on me, on my psyche. None will be forgotten. And few rival what is before me.

  With arms splayed at his sides and ankles crossed over each other, a man, pale and nude, hangs from the wooden billboard. Rain batters his body, causing rivulets to run down the hollows of his form. Prominent ribs, knees and elbows protrude from bruised flesh, but that isn’t what chills the marrow in my bones. The scene grows evermore grisly with every detail I notice. Nails driven through his palms while his feet are bound with rope hold him in place, a macabre display carried out by a ghoulish Urthman.

  “No, no, no,” I hear myself say, my voice distant and foreign to my own ears.

  Will, Oliver and Jericho rush up behind me. They see what I see and draw in sharp breaths at the ghastly display. The camper, slowed to a crawl, stops. We stare in shock and repulsion.

  I stare so hard that for a minute, I believe I see the brutalized man’s eyelids flutter. I shake my head to right my vision and look again. Only this time, I see it for a second time. And I’m not alone.

  “He’s alive!” Sully shouts. “The guy is alive!” He scrambles from his seat and kicks open the door. Bursting forward, he races out into the pouring rain to the sign.

  “Hold on! It could be a trap!” I call out as I follow, but he doesn’t hear me. The drumming of rain as it pours all around us drowns out the sound of my voice.

  Will and Jericho race out of the camper and are just a few steps behind me.

  “Hey, buddy!” Sully calls to the man fastened to the sign. “Hey, you still with us?”

  Up close, the scene is all the more grotesque. Malnourished and badly beaten, the man is frail. Blood, in shades that vary from bright crimson to a murky brownish-black, coats his palms and streaks his body. His eyelids move as he strains to open his eyes. “Help me, please.” He says the words slowly, his voice barely audible. But a disturbance in my periphery rips my attention from him to a cluster of dense bushes beside the sign. Immediately, I tear my sword from the scabbard at my back. Clutching it between two hands, I nudge Will and Jericho. Jericho whistles to Sully, and he promptly joins us. They see the bush jiggle, the movement unnatural and not a result of the weather. Together, we move toward it, alert, armed and prepared to fight.

  Before we make it there, however, a figure bursts from it. From the shape of her head and the size of her frame I instantly see she’s human, and female. Lengths of dark hair trail behind her like a banner as she rushes toward us. “Help him!” she cries. “Please!”

  I lower my weapon, confusion and caution keeping me from returning it to its sheath. “Who are you? What’s he doing up there? Why was this done to him?” The questions fire from me in quick succession.

  “Avery, take it easy. She’s scared,” Will snaps at me.

  “I’m Sarah, and he’s my brother.” She points to the man on the sign. “We escaped and he was caught. I barely got away.” Through the driving rain, I see unshed tears fill her eyes. “And that’s what they do when they find stray humans.” Her voice quivers as she points again to her brother.

  “Stray humans,” I spit. They call us stray humans!

  “Please just help me help him. I’ve been here since they did this to him yesterday. I can’t get him down. I tried, but I can’t.”

  “Okay, Sarah, we’ll help you.” Will goes to her and soothes her. “Come with us.”

  Sully looks at me oddly for a split-second, as if gauging my reaction, then joins Will as they usher Sarah to the sign. He climbs the board and positions himself next to Sarah’s brother. “I’m Sully. What’s your name, buddy?”

  “Tom, m-my name is Tom,” he barely manages.

  “Tom, me and my friends are going to try to get you down, okay?”

  “Okay.” Tom’s head lolls, his chin resting against his chest, consciousness undoubtedly seeping from him.

  “Come on, Tom, stay with me,” Sully says as he evaluates his hands that have nails driven through them. To us, he shakes his head somberly. “I can’t pull his hands free with the heads of the nails in place. They would cause too much damage.” And by damage, I assume he means tissue would tear and uncontrolled bleeding would ensue in both places. Sully drops to the ground and approaches us. He smiles sympathetically at Sarah, who stands close to Will, their bodies almost touching. A slight tendril of anger at their nearness sparks through my blood. I’m shocked by it, especially given the circumstances and what I’m witnessing. “Jericho, you think you can knock the sign down?” Sully’s gaze flashes from the mallet at Jericho’s hip to his face.

  “I’m sure I can,” Jericho replies, his voice pouring like heated honey.

  “Let’s give it a try.” Sully claps his hands together then rubs them. “Will, I need you to stand with me behind the sign so we can catch it before it slams to the ground.”

  A whimper slips from Sarah’s lips. Will pats her shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ve got this. We’ll get him down.” He speaks in a low, almost intimate tone. Involuntarily, I grind my molars as she turns to him and tips her chin, smiling weakly.

  Will meets Sully on the rear side of the sign. Jericho removes his mallet from his belt and swings it in a wide arc. The head collides with the wooden platform of the billboard, sending splinters showering in every direction. The wood cracks then buckles, slanting back toward Sully and Will. They immediately grip the sides of the plank and try to guide it to the soggy grass below, but the weight of it causes it to land with a thud.

  Tom groans loudly, the impact harder than we’d have liked. “Sorry Tom. Sorry ab
out that,” Sully apologizes. Then he looks to Jericho. “Okay, that was great. Now we need you to break the wood by his hands.”

  Concern flickers in Jericho’s deep-brown eyes.

  “You can do it, I’m sure,” Sully encourages his friend.

  Jericho hefts his mallet and hammers a section of wood by Tom’s left hand. Shards explode all around them. He repeats the process with the other hand, and Tom screams both times. Sully pulls his hands free, but the nails remain.

  “We have to get out of here. Taking down the sign and freeing his hands was loud. They’ll be coming.” Sully looks all around. Will and Jericho survey the surrounding land, as well.

  “Please, don’t leave us,” Sarah begs.

  “No way are we leaving you,” Sully replies right away. “You’re coming with us. Get in the camper.”

  I glance at Sarah and she smiles warmly in Sully’s direction before heeding his instructions and heading toward the camper. I follow her, growing increasingly aggravated with every step, though the precise reason for my aggravation eludes me completely. Sully, Will and Jericho climb in, helping Tom and rushing him to the rear seats, to where Will and I sat before finding the billboard. Strangely, both our conversation and the kiss feel as if they occurred a lifetime ago.

  Jericho disappears to the front of the camper and takes the wheel. I feel the vehicle begin to move.

  “Oh my gosh! What happened to him?” June’s voice pierces the air.

  “What happened?” Oliver asks.

  I calmly fill in the children while Sully and Will hover over Tom.

  “This is going to hurt,” I hear Sully say. I turn from June and Riley, whose hands cover their mouths in horror, and look in time to see him pluck large intimidating nails from the man’s palms.

  Tom screams. It’s an awful, bloodcurdling sound. Tears spring from June’s eyes and stream down her cheeks. “That poor man,” she sniffles.

  “Okay, Will, I need you to get my bag.”

  Will races to the passenger seat. Under it is a duffle bag with medical supplies. He clips my shoulder as he passes and doesn’t turn to say he’s sorry. He does stop, however, to place a supportive hand on Sarah’s back and whisper words I cannot hear in her ear. She offers him a brave smile before he hands the bag to Sully.

  “Tom, I’m going to clean your hands then wrap them tightly.” Tom nods, and Sully begins working. More screaming ensues followed by eerie silence.

  “What happened? Is he okay?” Sarah asks of her brother.

  “He’s fine, just passed out from the pain. But listen, if his hands are infected, this could get bad, really bad.” She looks at him pleadingly. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you. I can see you’ve been through a lot. But if they’re infected, he might not make it.”

  Sarah begins to sob and collapses into Sully’s arms. Sully pats her back uncomfortably and looks over her head at me. Riley cries, too, and June follows suit. Oliver hugs his sister and June falls into me. The camper seems to erupt in tears. Everyone is holding someone else, save for Jericho and Will. Jericho is driving, but Will is not. He’s standing nearby, his eyes locked on Sarah. A tiny part of me also feels like joining in the shedding of tears. Humans nailed to signs on the side of the road, treated like refuse, called strays. The gravity of it makes me feel physically ill. Finding Tom and Sarah and witnessing a glimpse of their plight, coupled with the inkling deep in my bones that The General still hunts us, makes me realize we can’t get to New Washington fast enough.

  Chapter 9

  Sarah sits before me in the rear of the camper, the window at her back. The rain has stopped, for now, at least. Thick clouds break apart and shafts of buttery light pass through. Backlit by the sun, all of us are gathered around Sarah. Golden rays halo her and draw rich, mahogany highlights from her dark-brown hair. Though her locks hang in clumps around her face, she still possesses spellbinding beauty. And I am not alone in noticing.

  Will and Oliver flock to her, smiling at every word she speaks that even remotely warrants a smile. Sully remains only peripherally interested, his attention vacillating between her brother and me.

  “What were you doing out there?” I ask.

  She gazes at her lap then looks at us through long, dark lashes. Tears fill her eyes, bringing out the hint of gold in her pale-green irises. “My brother was caught. I couldn’t leave him there to die alone.” Teardrops slide down her bronze cheeks, and I notice how remarkably similar her complexion is to Will’s. She swallows hard. “I tried to get him down, but couldn’t.” Her lower lip quivers. “I couldn’t go off as a stray by myself.”

  Stray. The word rolls across my skin like a burr, chafing me. “Sarah, you’re not a stray. None of us are. A stray is what homeless animals were called centuries ago, back when humans kept them as pets. Humans are not strays.”

  Sarah bites her plump lower lip and frowns. In my periphery I see that Will’s brows are gathered, his expression mirroring her pain.

  “To our leaders, we’re animals,” she says. Several fat teardrops drip from her eyes.

  Unlike when June or I cry, her nose does not drip and her face does not contort unflatteringly. To the contrary, she looks lovely in her misery. A fact that forms a sick pit in my stomach, one that continues to twist.

  A pinch in my palm diverts my attention from my belly to my hand. Small crescents mar the soft flesh there. I realize I’ve been unconsciously balling my hand so tightly my fingernails bit into my palms.

  Flattening my hands against my thighs, I breathe deeply before asking, “Why were they holding you and your brother prisoner?”

  Blowing out a breath so that her mouth forms a small circle, Sarah’s shoulders hook forward. “It’s not just us.” She pauses then her eyes look among us. “Wait, you guys don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Sully asks gently.

  “You mean you guys aren’t strays that’ve escaped?”

  Her use of the word “stray” again makes me bristle. My nostrils flare and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from responding sharply. She’s been through a lot. The least I can do is cut her a little slack. But it’s tough. “We’re not strays.” I nearly choke on the word. “And we’ve never escaped imprisonment.”

  “Well, except for the arena,” Sully corrects me. “But that’s beside the point.” He waves his hand as if swatting a mosquito.

  Sarah has been leaning forward, hanging on his every word. Her gaze filled with wonder. “You’ve never been on work detail?”

  “No,” Sully says. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiles awkwardly, a smile I’ve never seen before.

  Sarah’s head tilts to one side, her eyes wide. She grins at him sweetly, infuriatingly. Her tone shifts; her voice pitching up so that she sounds almost childlike when she speaks to him, and only him. “We’re kept to work in the cities. We’re trained from a young age, younger than her,” she points to June, “to work. Some work on machines like cars, others cook, clean, and so on. Whatever we excel at is what we are ordered to do forever.” She brushes the hair off her shoulders and bats her eyelashes, still looking only at Sully as she talks. “In the large cities, workers have even restored electricity. That’s why there are more and more automobiles being rebuilt. It’s us.” A note of pride touches her words. How she can feel pride at work she’s forced to do in enslavement is a mystery to me. Sully looks prepared to lunge at her, but Will seems taken by it.

  I feel my temper flare and am grateful when Sully erupts. “You and the other slaves were able to get the power on and build stuff Urthmen never could because they’re too stupid to learn to do anything!” He raises his voice and gestures with his hands in annoyance. A part of me wants to spring to my feet and clap for him. It’s as if he’s read and verbalized my thoughts exactly.

  “No, that’s not it,” Sarah says. “They’re too important for manual labor.”

  I jerk my head back and look to the faces of those around me; to be sure they heard what I just heard
, that my ears aren’t deceiving me. Mouths hang agape. Brows that aren’t gathered in confusion are raised high in shock. Yes, they heard her. I didn’t imagine it.

  “No,” I retort. My temper feels as taut as a bow ready to launch an arrow. “They’re stupid, lazy creatures who can’t do things for themselves.” I barely manage to harness the frustration I feel at her ignorance and am proud that I managed to keep from yelling.

  Losing the singsong voice she used for Sully’s benefit, Sarah tips her chin, a hint of defiance seasoning her gesture. “No,” is all she says, her voice trembling as if she may start crying again.

  “They’re smart enough to use humans as tools to get things done,” Will says unexpectedly. My head whips in his direction. He refuses to meet my eyes with his. I wonder whose side he’s on, and why there is more than one side suddenly. The question burns like poison on the tip of my tongue.

  Shaking my head slowly, my upper lip curls in disgust. “If they ever tried to keep me as a slave working for them, I’d make sure to kill as many of them as I could before they caught and killed me,” I say through my teeth.

  Sarah tosses her head back and laughs aloud. The sound is grating. Heat snaps through my body, rising from my core until it reaches my cheeks.

  “What’s so funny?” I hiss. My eyes are narrowed and my brow is low. Any sense of sympathy or camaraderie I felt is fast seeping from me.

  Her laughter ends abruptly. Her gaze darts from Will to Sully, then to the children, ending finally with me. “I thought you were joking that you could kill an Urthman. You were joking, weren’t you?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “A human can’t kill an Urthman, especially a female human. Urthmen are way too powerful.” Again, she speaks with such authority, such certainty, it borders on arrogance.

  I’m prepared to unleash on her in a verbal firestorm when laughter erupts again. Only this time, it’s Will, Sully, June, Riley and Oliver who laugh, not Sarah.