Remains of Urth Read online

  A crowd has gathered. Every villager has come out of his or her hut. They look on in fear and disgust, their appreciation of the wall immense, and they wait with bated breath to hear what we have to say. The top of Arundel’s head can be seen as he winds his way past the group. Tall and thin and with a long narrow face, his features are pinched. “So? What did you find?” he demands of my father without asking if we’re okay.

  After a pause that includes Uncle Thom glaring at the leader, he says, “It’s as the boys said. There were three Urthman bodies.”

  Arundel stares at him incredulously. “Is that so?”

  “It is. They do not lie and neither do I,” my uncle says with a low roll of anger to his deep voice.

  “You buried them?” Arundel ignores his tone.

  “Yes, and we barely made it back as you can see,” I say. Annoyance laces my words. Annoyance that he sees the dozens of beasts furiously pacing and wailing beyond the gate, sees that we’re completely exhausted and frazzled, yet doesn’t bother to ask if we’re okay.

  Sliding me a glance, I see a hint of pride in my uncle’s eyes. “Yes, Lucas is right. Apart from narrowly escaping with our lives, what we discovered out there is far worse than what we imagined.”

  Bushy, white brows knit. “How’s that?” Arundel purses his thin lips.

  “They’re soldiers.” This time it’s my father’s smooth voice that flows. His words chill the blood in my veins. Even more so than the baying Night Lurkers just beyond the wall. My eyes scan those who are closest. I see my mother. She hugs her arms across her body. Her eyes lock on my father and though their expressions remain impassive on the surface, I read the worry in them. I see the fear. I feel it too. My sister looks between them and then to me. One brow rises. I simply close my eyes and shake my head slightly. She’ll know the implications of our findings soon enough. She and everyone in our village.

  “We need to leave at first light.” Uncle Thom is firm as he rises to his feet. The rest of us follow his lead, myself included. My legs feel as though they’ll give way from beneath me. And this time it has less to do with leaving the only home I’ve ever known. It’s about fleeing the safety of walls my ancestors built and venturing out into the unknown. Everyone I love will be in danger. That’s the worst part of all.

  “Nonsense!” Arundel huffs. “We can’t survive beyond the walls!”

  “We won’t survive here, Arundel. They’re coming for us. They know we’re here.” My father doesn’t raise his voice as our leader does. He doesn’t need to. He makes his point calmly and commands more authority as a result.

  “Impossible!” Arundel blusters exaggeratedly. He speaks to the crowd, his audience, not my father. “Colin, if they knew we were here, they would have attacked already.” He speaks with a hint of amusement, as though my father has missed the most obvious of points.

  My father pins Arundel with a lethal gaze. The leader shifts his weight from one leg to the next, his discomfort palpable. I imagine anyone would squirm under the weight of my father’s stare. He isn’t a sanctimonious performer as Arundel is. He’s a man of honor. A man of truth. He’s a man I admire. And I’m not alone. Everyone in the village holds him in high regard. “We need to leave tomorrow morning as Thom said.” Chatter breaks out all around us. As probably the most trusted member of our community, my father’s words hold weight.

  “Silence!” Arundel shouts. He looks from left to right, his face stern and disappointed. He goes so slowly I swear he’s attempting to make eye contact with every single person in the village. After a lengthy pause, his attention returns to my father. “You see what you’ve done, Colin?” he says through clenched teeth. “You’ve managed to panic the entire village with your nonsense.” His words are pure venom, his tone bitter. “There’s no place to go and it’s a three-day hike out of the forest. That’s three nights to survive.” He holds up his index, middle and ring finger on his right hand for added drama. “How do you propose anyone will survive?” Amused condescension has returned to his voice. He folds his arms across his chest and cocks his head to one side arrogantly, trying desperately to provoke my father to lose his temper.

  “We’ll climb to the top of the thickest tree if no shelter can be found,” my father replies, refusing to take Arundel’s bait. His demeanor remains calm.

  Refusing to relent, Arundel snaps, “And then what? There isn’t a place for us out there, even if you could survive the night. We’d be slaughtered within hours of exiting the forest.” His face is an unhealthy shade of red and his voice is ripe with righteous indignation. He shakes his head and grinds his molars. “In the past twenty years, we’ve sent out approximately thirty brave souls to scout the outer world. Only one has ever returned, and the world he described was one in which no human could survive. We’d be marching to our deaths.”

  Listening to Arudel speak, hearing the smug tone he’s using and that he’s using fear as a tactic to prevent anyone from doing something he’s too afraid to do himself, my heart begins drilling my ribs. Anger swells within me. “So what’s our alternative?” My voice is firm but level. “You’d rather have us sit here and wait to die?”

  Arundel glares at me.

  “I know it’s possible to survive the night. I’ve done it before. I helped the two women, Avery and June, the very women who warned us all that this day would come, when they passed through here years ago. I helped them reach the edge of the Great Forest. I made it there with them and made it back alone,” I shock myself as I remind everyone of the only visitors we’ve ever had, and my role in their safe exit of the forest. Then I add, “It can be done. At least running gives us a fighting chance. Staying here guarantees our death.” I look around me. My back is slickened with sweat and my shirt clings to it but I do not succumb to nerves. “The thought of leaving here hurts me, as I’m sure it hurts all of you. But the fact of the matter is, three Urthmen, all wearing military uniforms, were in our forest. It wasn’t an accident and it wasn’t a coincidence. There’ll be more. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be here when hundreds storm this village.” I stop speaking and scan the faces of my people who are more than fellow villagers, but family of sorts. I try to gauge their reactions. I’m not allowed more than a few seconds to speak before our leader interjects.

  Arundel, eager to hear the sound of his voice again, curls his upper lip over his front teeth and says, “You’re just like your father, boy, only you should know your place and keep quiet.”

  “I’m no boy.” The words are a growl, my anger getting the better of me. “I’m a seventeen-year-old man who killed one of the Urthmen we found in the forest and I will not be talked to like a child.”

  Arundel enunciates each word when he says, “We can’t make it through the forest at night and can’t survive beyond it even if we could. Urthmen are not coming here.”

  “Then how did the three we killed get here?” This time it’s Kohl who speaks.

  An answer escapes Arundel.

  “We’re leaving at first light,” my father says with finality.

  “No one is leaving. I forbid it!” Arundel shouts.

  The only sound my father and uncle make are when their blades slide from their sheaths. My brothers and I follow suit, as does my cousin, Maxx.

  “Are you going to stop us?” Uncle Thom asks.

  “I’m the leader of this village!” Arundel’s voice is shrill as he yells and spittle sprays from his mouth.

  “You will not tell me what’s best for my family. I already lost a son. I have another and a wife to worry about,” Uncle Thom replies.

  Arundel’s eyes move from face to face, starting with my father and ending with Maxx. He realizes each of us is prepared for conflict. He looks over his shoulder and realizes that no one has sided with him or made any move to defend him. After sighing heavily, he shakes his head disapprovingly. “Fine. Have it your way. Leave to your deaths.” He flicks his wrist and makes a sweeping gesture toward us with his hand. He then a
ddresses the crowd. “Is anyone interested in joining them? Does anyone else care to go off to become a meal for a Night Lurker? Or have your head put on a stake by an Urthman? Well, that is if you make it out of the forest.” He stares into the crowd searching the faces, challenging anyone to say yes.

  No one volunteers. My father, uncle, brothers and cousin look among one another. “We’d better get some sleep. We’ll leave at dawn,” my father says, though he’s clearly shocked and hurt by the lack of support. I’m shocked as well. I can’t believe anyone would choose to stay here and await the arrival of an enemy that will surely outnumber us. A part of me wants to scream, to shout at the people I’ve lived with my entire life, and ask why the heck they’re siding with Arundel, why they’re essentially surrendering their lives like animals who know slaughter is eminent. I fill my lungs and come dangerously close to doing so. But once my eyes scan the terrified faces of those surrounding me, I realize my effort will be futile. So I do nothing. I watch as our group disperses. As soon as everyone has gone, I fairly run back to the hut I share with my brothers. Once there, my father stops us in the doorway and tells us, “I’ll keep watch tonight.” I look at him puzzled. “Just in case Arundel gets any ideas about trying to keep us here.” He tosses his thumb over his shoulder toward the grassy area just beyond the gate where most of the villagers remain.

  “You think he’d do that?” I ask. I hadn’t considered the possibility. Until just now.

  “Honestly, son, I don’t know what that man’s capable of now.” My father rubs the muscles at the back of his neck. When he stops and looks up, his eyes lock on mine. “You spoke your mind back there.” I nod and wonder whether he’s going to reprimand me. “You spoke your mind and did it calmly. You made sense and stayed in control.” He holds my gaze for several beats then says, “I’m proud of you.”

  My cheeks heat and I lower my head. “Thanks.” I mumble the word and shift awkwardly. Outwardly uncomfortable, but inside I’m so happy to hear my father is proud of me.

  “Rest.” My father pats my shoulder. “This’ll be the last night you’ll sleep in this kind of comfort.”

  My throat constricts around the lump that’s formed there. My brain understands that leaving here means living life on the run. But it also understands that with Urthmen invading the forest, any semblance of safety we felt is fleeting. I nod. “Night, Dad,” is all I can manage as I don’t trust that my voice will hold out for much more. I turn from him and head inside. Shockingly, my brothers have collapsed in their beds of straw and snore softly. I sit first then lie back. But sleep doesn’t find me as it has found Kohl and Pike. It eludes me entirely, leaving me feeling shaky and edgy and with a head filled with thoughts of what’s going to happen when we leave here tomorrow. I second guess leaving, a thought that leaves me feeling ashamed as though I’m betraying my father just for having it. It doesn’t make sense that Urthmen will kill us simply because we live. We aren’t a threat to them. They outnumber us by far. And they have for centuries. I’ve heard the story. I know it well. I know how the world came to be as it is now. My mind drifts to what I have been told since I was young.

  Almost two hundred years ago, during the War of 2062, back when the world was inhabited exclusively by humans, a war between North American Countries and Middle Eastern countries arose. It began over religious reasons, though I have no idea what the word religious even means just that whatever was inherent in their opposing beliefs led to the Middle Eastern people creating powerful weapons that no one had ever seen or heard of at the time. Biological weapons they were called, and they were unleashed on North America. The name of the weapon was evictium. It warped the mind as well as the body and drove everyone mad.

  The North Americans retaliated by launching nuclear weapons, which destroyed the rest of the world. The only survivors were those who had something called money. Back then, money was equated to power and value. The more one had, the more value he held in society and the more power he had. Those who had money were able to flee to large underground shelters that had been built. Hundreds of underground shelters existed around North America that held hundreds of people with enough supplies to last twenty years. When the supplies ran out, those who lived below ground feared that radiation, an after effect of the nuclear blast that made living things ill and caused death over time, would affect them and had affected any source of food above ground. They soon learned radiation was the least of their concerns. What waited for them at the surface was far, far worse.

  Those who’d been exposed to evictium survived the nuclear blast. However, the radiation that remained in the atmosphere and contaminated the food supply reacted with the evictium. It created monstrous, demented beings, bloodthirsty and filled with rage.

  When the inhabitants of the underground shelters returned to the world above, they were met by what we now know as Urthmen. The Urthmen slaughtered them. Very few managed to escape. They fled to the forest and hid deep within it. They were our ancestors.

  Almost two hundred years later, the offspring of those warped creatures that waited at the surface are the ones that rule the Urth today. They’ve evolved, however. They’re no longer as demented and wild as their predecessors. But they are far from civilized, and they no longer retain a shred of humanity. They hate us in a way that is as much as part of them as breathing. It’s instinctive. And these creatures rule the only inhabitable section of the planet we know of: North America. Tomorrow, my family and I are venturing out, straight into their lair. What seemed like a plausible idea earlier now seems like suicide.

  Perhaps it’s my overtired brain or perhaps it’s the fallout of an adrenaline surge that lasted much of the afternoon and evening, but at this second, I’m terrified of leaving the place I’ve called home for my entire life.

  Chapter 5

  After only a couple of hours of sleep, I wake with a start. Sitting bolt upright and coated in a sheen of sweat, I see that both Kohl and Pike still sleep. Pale rays of sunlight slip between the thatched roof of the hut, causing my eyes to burn. I blink several times, rubbing my forehead with one hand. Exhaustion causes my insides to tremble and my heart to pound. My sleep was fitful and plagued with more dreams than I can count or remember. Even now, in the earliest light of day, as I try to remember what startled me awake, the dream eludes me, floating around my mind like nebulous puzzle pieces that refuse to take shape.

  I’m about to flop backward in my bed and attempt to revisit the dream, even if for a moment to help make more sense of it, when my father barges into the room. “It’s time to go,” is all he says before disappearing from sight. Crescent-shaped dark patches sit beneath his eyes and resemble bruises. I doubt he slept at all. Still, his voice is strong and clear.

  Kohl and Pike stir but only briefly. Within moments they are up.

  “I can’t believe we’re leaving,” Pike says. “I-I just can’t believe it.” His eyes shine with unshed tears and I hear the tremor in his voice. I look at him and part my lips to speak. “I mean, I get why we’re going. My brain gets it. But…I don’t know.” He thinks out loud. “This is all I know.” Eyes lowered, his voice is little more than a whisper.

  Kohl stands and walks to Pike’s bed. He sits down beside our younger brother and grips his shoulder. “Hey, no need to worry, little brother. Nothing will happen to you out there. I’ll make sure of it.” Pike nods in response, a small, barely perceptible motion, and still stares at the ground. Kohl gives him a little shake. “C’mon, you think I won’t? You think I’d let some mangy mongrel feast on your narrow butt?” he asks playfully.

  “Hey! I don’t have a narrow butt!” Pike shoves Kohl.

  Kohl, a mountain of a man already, rears exaggeratedly as if the shove were substantial. He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Okay. Point taken.” Kohl laughs. “Glad to see you’ve got a little something in you.” He shoves Pike hard, and Pike keels over.

  “Whatever,” Pike says as he gets up. “I’ve got a lot in here.” He points
to his chest with his thumb. “I’m just not thrilled about leaving.” His eyes roam the room sadly. I can’t help but agree. Beds of straw, a roof overhead to protect us from the elements and a feeling of strength that stems from having more than one hundred of us all in one location has fortified us since birth. Abandoning that seems foreign now. Reckless even. But I trust my father and my uncle. And I know what I saw.

  “I’m not thrilled about it either, but you’ll be fine. All of us will. I’ll make sure of it. Promise.” Kohl winks jauntily. He stands and stretches. Long, muscular arms extend out to either side and he yawns loudly. “Let’s get moving. Dad said it’s time to go,” he reminds us. At his words, we pack our meager belongings, which consist of a few changes of clothes that we stuff into bags and sling over our shoulders. Once each of us has packed, one by one we leave our sleeping area and make our way into the small front room of the structure. My sister and mother wait for us.

  Both petite and with faces framed by gold ringlets, I can’t believe just how much they look alike. Two sets of eyes watch my brothers and me as we come in. “Why is it that the men are always late?” my mother asks and arcs one eyebrow. Her arms are folded across her chest and laughter twinkles in her hazel gaze. It’s a wonder to me how she manages to be so upbeat in the face of the challenges that lie ahead of us. I can’t help but lower my head and smile sheepishly.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I mumble. Kohl and Pike take my lead and offer muffled apologies, as well.

  “Let’s go, everyone. We only have so many hours of daylight to travel. Let’s get a move on.” Worry pleats my father’s brow, and somehow, he looks older this morning than he did just twenty-four hours ago. I nod in agreement and glance at Kohl. His jaw is set and his lips are pressed to a firm line, his expression hard. Pike, on the other hand, looks as if tears will come if he dares to speak. I know how he feels. This is the moment he’s been dreading. The moment I’ve been dreading. Leaving will be much harder than I thought. I don’t trust that my own voice will hold when I think of all that I’m leaving behind, the only home I’ve ever known. But I suppose home is not necessarily a place as much as it is the people you live for, the people you’d die for. Looking around, I realize my home comes in the form of two brothers, one sister, one mother and one father. With them beside me, home is wherever they are, even if that means crouching beside them in a treetop to hideout at dusk from Night Lurkers. Leaving is necessary. I trust my father. He’s never been wrong where safety and survival instincts are concerned. So I will not question him now. Not aloud and not even in my head.