Hope is what I cling to when I look beyond the rows of Urthmen I’ve killed. Hundreds more crowd the field in front of the Task Center, all of them calling for our blood to be spilled. For our deaths. Spittle spewing from their mouths as they yell with teeth bared, they swing their clubs, their movements resembling that of animals more than anything else. Xan and Micah, flanking me, don’t see it. They don’t see that far in advance of what’s right in front of them. Instead, they fire, as I do, shooting with the abandon of men with endless ammunition and endless time. Of course, neither they nor any of us, has either. Still, the looks on their faces are pure glee. They’re enjoying the sight. Enjoying the impact their weapons have. Urthmen bodies shuddering and jerking as they’re peppered with bullets. I take a cursory look around me to see if anyone else looks as enthused as Xan and Micah. Reyna, Pike, Ara and Kai’s features are determined, not gleeful in the least, but they continue to fire. The bred humans fire, too. They look confused, scared. I can’t blame them. I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little of both. The area beyond the door to the Task Center has exploded into a swirling vortex of bedlam.
I can’t count how many Urthmen have fallen. Too many bloody bodies litter the ground to tally. Others scatter, running in fear they’ll share the same fate as the fallen. Good, I think as we advance slowly, continuing our onslaught of gunfire, the more that run, the clearer our pathway out of here will be. And clear it does. We hold our ground, discharging our weapons and watching as more fall, and even more run. The sight bolsters cautious confidence that our exit from the Task Center will be easier than expected. That confidence drops to the ground like a dead bird when the space in front of me is cleared enough to offer a view of what lies ahead in the distance. My breath catches in my chest. “Take cover!” is all I manage to shout before the sky above darkens. Arrows from ranks of archers’ bows blacken the heavens like a fleet of tattered storm clouds, they sound a unified shriek that chills the marrow in my bones, before they rain down on us with deadly purpose. Without time to run and hide, I drop my weapon and hoist the closest Urthman corpse off the ground, covering my body with it. Blood, still warm, mingles with sweat and coats my skin. I want to gag. The stench and gore is overwhelming. But right now, the stench and gore is all that stands between me and an arrow through my throat. So I remain as I am, thankful for the dead body. Crouched low, I see in my periphery that others have done as I do and use the fallen Urthman bodies to shield themselves. Ara struggles to get one off the ground and has narrowly dodged several arrows. “Ara!” I shout. I hold the slippery body in place, struggling with one arm while I extend the other and reach out for my sister. I grip her bicep firmly, yanking her with all my might toward me. Arrow after arrow sink into the dead Urthman’s flesh with sickly thuds. Beside me, Ara’s eyes are wide. Her breathing is short and shallow, panic and revulsion seizing her. For the time being, she and I are unscathed. We’re lucky. Peeking out from our macabre armor, I see arrows have hit some of the bred humans, as well others from the cells. Terror begins to saturate every cell in my body as I lift the Urthman body higher and spot fellow humans writhing in pain, pierced by enemy arrows. My brother. I fear for my brother. Is he one of the ones who cries out in anguish, thrashing on the ground as he takes his last breath? No. Please no. He can’t be. The words repeat, echoing through my brain in time with the feverish drum of my pulse. “Pike!” I scream. For a long painstaking moment, there isn’t a reply. My eyes sting. My face contorts. The tortured moans and cries all around me meld into a single horrific sound. Any one of them could be my brother. It’s too much for me to bear. “Pike!” His name rips from deep inside me, anguished, terrified. “Pike!”
“Lucas!” Pike’s voice calls back.
“Pike! You’re okay!” the words rush from me on a relieved sigh.
“I am!” he shouts.
“Reyna? Where’s Reyna?” I ask, though I thought I saw a small swath of the white fabric of her tunic sticking out from beneath an Urthman body with its face eroded by bullets. “Reyna!”
“I’m here!” she calls out, and sounds near. Hearing her voice sends a second swell of relief through me.
“Kai! Xan! Micah! You guys alright?” I yell.
Everyone replies. “Yes.”
“We need to get to the vehicles now!” I twist and look for Aaron, hoping with everything I have he’s survived the Urthman archers’ raid. To Ara, I say, “On three, I’m going to drop him,” my gaze flickers to the corpse above us, “and we’re going to run as fast as we can to the building Aaron told us about, okay?”
“Okay,” she nods.
“One. Two. Three.” I shove the gruesome body away from us and run as fast as I can with Ara just a step behind me. But not before scooping my weapon from the ground where I dropped it. I cannot and will not risk leaving behind the most efficient method of defense I’ve ever experienced. Despite its efficiency, though, at the moment, my gun is useless against the archers. There are too many. Within seconds of setting off at a run, another assault is launched. The whistle of arrows carving the ether is followed by a massive cloud, traveling in an arc our way. All around me, arrows shower from overhead, sinking into the earth. Some sink into bodies. Cries ring out. Urthman cries. Human cries. Among those running with us, several fall. I don’t know who. My view is limited. I must keep my eyes ahead, pinned to the building that houses the vehicles. Drawn to it as though an invisible line has hooked into me and tows me in. Still I check for Pike, for Reyna, for Kai, Xan, Micah, Aaron and Brad. I’m comforted, inasmuch as I can be in the current situation, to see them. But many have fallen and continue to fall. Bred humans mostly, who hadn’t had the need to run for their lives ever. But some are people with whom I shared my cell, too deprived of food and sleep to outrun the arrows. By my count, only about fifteen of us remain, a fact that makes my stomach churn. I rallied them to leave. Begged the bred humans to fight for a chance to live. They couldn’t defend themselves in the Task Center. They couldn’t defend themselves out here either.
Urthmen who fled the initial gunfire chase us to the rear of the building. Infuriated at them, at me, at the unfair world in which we live where humans are hunted like animals, I abandon all sense of rationale. I whirl on them and attack. Squeezing the trigger of my gun, I assail. Bullets drill the bodies of those nearest me. Hearing the shots fired, Ara stops. Reyna stops. Pike does, as well. Then Kai, Micah, Xan and the rest of our group. Everyone opens fire, mowing down the mob of Urthmen that trailed swiftly and easily. The others, witnessing their fellow Urthmen die in such an unceremonious manner, freeze midstride and turn back. Clearly they hadn’t seen the first line of Urthmen fall when we came out of the Task Center, or else they probably wouldn’t have given chase. But they see it now. And have reconsidered. I’m sure they’ll be back, with or without reinforcements. Regardless, we’ll be ready for them. We have to be. We need to get out of this Urthman city as soon as possible and use whatever means possible to do so. I stare at them for several beats, feeling disgust so profound it temporarily roots me where I stand.
“Come on! Let’s go!” Aaron’s voice snaps me back to my senses, lightening my feet and setting them into motion. I lower my weapon and turn, running once again toward the garage. I do not stop again until we’ve made it there. The garage, a large structure composed of gray concrete, has but one point of entry I can see. An oversized door that three trucks could drive through side by side fills the wall that faces us and looks to be the only was in or out. Aaron approaches the door. After fiddling with a contraption near the bottom of it, he pulls it to the right so hard his entire body leans. The door resists at first, but once it begins moving, it slides open relatively easily. Beyond it, a half dozen vehicles wait.
“Whoa,” Kai says. His deep voice and gargantuan size opposes the childlike wonder in his tone.
“I know,” Aaron says before disappearing inside. I hear the tinkle of keys jingling then the engine of a large truck, much like the one in which we arrived he
re, roars to life. The truck rolls forward. I realize Aaron has slipped behind the steering wheel and is driving it. “Get in!” he shouts over the thunderous sound of the engine. I don’t waste time. I climb into the passenger seat. Ara, Pike, Reyna, Kai and the others climb in back. I twist in my seat and look over my shoulder. The truck is large, larger than the one in which we arrived. On the outside, the rear compartment resembles a large box. Inside, however, dark seats in a smooth, supple material line either side of the walls. Our group fits easily. Returning my gaze forward I watch as Aaron depresses a pedal on the right with his foot. “Hold on, everybody. Here we go,” he says. As soon as the pedal is lowered, I feel the truck lurch forward. Immediately, Urthmen appear before the truck. Archers, positioned and poised to shoot. They discharge loaded bows right at us.
“Get down!” I shout and duck my head beneath the dashboard. I cover my head bracing myself for the impact and for shards of glass to shower down on me. But it doesn’t. Instead, all I hear is a sharp pecking sound.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Aaron says. He doesn’t stop for the Urthmen jumping in front of our vehicle. He plows into them instead.
“Why didn’t the glass break?” I ask.
“The glass has been treated. It has a special coating.” Aaron smiles as we drive over what feels like a large bump in the road. I doubt it’s a bump though. An Urthman is more likely.
“Treated? I don’t understand.” I stare at him, waiting for an explanation.
“The glass,” he points to the windshield, “has a coating that prevents sharp objects from puncturing it.”
“Okay,” I nod as though I have the slightest clue of what he’s talking about when really I don’t. “I see.”
A small smile appears on Aaron’s face. It seems absurd that he smirks given the direness of the circumstances. And the fact that he’s driving straight into Urthmen, aiming in some cases. “The glass is not typical glass. It’s layers of transparent material.”
“Layers? You mean like there are different coatings?” I ask and can feel how dopey I look with my head tilted to one side and my brows knit.
“Kind of. But not that simple. Regular glass shatters when struck. This absorbs the impact. The chemicals used to make it allow that to happen.” Aaron looks at me quickly. My eyes keep bouncing between the Urthmen we’re running down and him.
“Special glass, got it,” I say and flinch as I watch rows or archers firing on the side of the truck. “Whoa!” I say reflexively.
“Not to worry, Lucas. Their attacks are anemic, ineffectual,” Aaron says confidently.
He’s right. I watch as arrows bounce off the metal of the truck, landing to the ground. The Urthmen continue to fire, despite seeing their efforts are a waste. “They really aren’t bright,” I mumble.
Aaron chuckles softly. “No, they aren’t. I convinced myself my whole life that they were. I believed what I’d been told. That Urthmen were too smart and too good to waste their time and energy on menial chores like technology development.” He laughs bitterly. “What a joke! My whole life.” His tone turns from bitter to rueful. We pass the entrance of the Task Center. Urthmen occupy the grassy area beyond the door. Bred humans who stayed behind file out. And as they do, Urthmen club them mercilessly. Blood splatters. One by one they fall. “They believed, too. Refused to consider what they heard was wrong.” Aaron’s voice cracks as he tries to keep tears at bay. He doesn’t allow his emotion to slow him. He stomps down on the gas pedal and we barrel towards the front gate. Some Urthmen dive out of our way as we approach. Others don’t. I’m sure there’s something I should say. Only words I’ve heard my father mutter once or twice come to mind. Those words repeat when Aaron looks up into a small, rectangular mirror mounted on the windshield and says, “We have a problem.” He gestures behind us. I turn in my seat once again and look out the small squares of glass at the rear doors. In the distance, three vehicles follow us. We move through the gate, plowing through the Urthmen who guard it. But instead of feeling relief, I feel concern over the vehicles tailing. Unexpectedly, Aaron stops the truck. Concern turns to worry. He opens the driver’s side door and worry turns to panic.
“What’re you doing?”
“Fire your gun on anyone approaching,” Aaron says cryptically.
“Aaron! What’s going on? What’re you doing? Why are we stopped?” The words fire from me like the bullets from my automatic weapon.
Aaron stares straight into my eyes, “Trust me. Just do it.”
I nod. “Okay. I will,” I say. I slide to his side and stand by the open door, listening and watching intently. I’ll shoot anything that moves, as long as it isn’t Aaron or one of us. Aaron runs to the gate. Urthmen, seeing him, advance. I fire immediately, taking them down before they’re near. Seeing their bodies spasm and twitch as their riddled with bullets causes the others behind them charging to reconsider. They turn and take cover, allowing Aaron time to affix a small object I can’t identify to the stone wall next to the metal gate.
“Back inside!” Aaron yells. He swats his hand to punctuate his words. I heed them without question and jump back in the truck. He is inside seconds after me.
“What was that? What was the thing you left on the wall?” I ask.
Aaron, breathless from running and adrenaline, says, “We need to move! We have ten seconds!”
“For what?” My voice is hoarse as I scream the two words.
Aaron doesn’t answer. He shifts a lever to his right and stomps down hard on the gas pedal. The truck responds and we pick up speed quickly, moving forward, farther away from the gate and stone wall. He looks in the rearview mirror. I turn to look at what he sees. The first vehicle following us makes it to the opening in the gate.
“Aaron—”
His name is the only word that passes through my lips before the ground rumbles and a fiery explosion consumes the vehicle behind us. The world beyond the rear windows has transformed to flame and smoke. Branches of surrounding trees falls in showers of sparks, and metal shrapnel rains down. Whatever vague idea I had about escape eludes me as I watch fireballs burst from what I assume is the fuel tank. Swirls of smoke catch sunbeams, visibility is poor. As it clears just a tiny bit, I see Urthmen flailing. Some have gaping, charred flesh, burned clear down to the bone, exposed while others are brilliant red and covered in blisters. The sight is gruesome. But it grows distant. The stone wall has crumbled. It blocks the exit. The trucks behind it, if they haven’t disintegrated in the blast, can’t follow.
“What the heck was that?” I ask Aaron.
“A bomb,” he replies as though I know what that means.
“What? What’s a bomb?”
“I’ll explain it later,” he answers as we continue moving farther and farther from the Urthman city. I turn in my seat and see the fire still burns. No vehicles follow us, only a foolish pair of Urthmen delusional enough to think they can catch us on foot. Within moments, their features are no longer discernible. They’re mere dots. “So I’ve helped get you out of there. Now what? Where do we go now?”
Several beats pass between us. All I can do is look at him blankly. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I didn’t plan beyond our escape. To be honest, I don’t even know what exists out in the world.”
Aaron, who alternated between looking at me and the path in front of us, faces me. His eyes lock with mine. “Nothing exists out here for us.”
His words raise goose bumps on my skin. My scalp shrinks. Thoughts haunt me fleetingly. What if he’s right? What if nothing exists in the world beyond the Urthman gates?
Chapter 9
“What?” I ask in disbelief. “How’s that possible? There’s nowhere for us to go.” I mumble the last sentence, coming close to mocking him for saying such a thing. The odd part is I’m not angry at him. He’s simply articulating my worst fear. In all of this, all the hopes for escape and planning, I pushed the terrifying possibility that a safe haven didn’t exist for us to the back of my mind. To allow myself to
entertain that meant depriving myself of a reason to leave in some ways. And as far as I was and am concerned, I have two good reasons to hope. To try. There has to be a place. Has to be. I grew up in a human village. If one existed, more must.
“Trust me, Lucas.” Aaron’s head swivels to face me. “This,” he gestures with one hand to the space beyond the windshield, “belongs to the Urthmen.” His hand returns to the steering wheel and his eyes to the path ahead. “Any humans that’re discovered are exterminated or caught and brought to the city we just left or others like it.” His lips purse for a moment and a line forms between his eyebrows. “Come to think of it, we aren’t even researching any human camps at the moment.”
“Researching human camps? What do you mean?”
“Any humans that’re caught are interrogated before they go to the arena or anywhere else. If it’s believed that they have a shelter or a part of a larger group or camp that’s popped up, the information is brought to us, or sometimes the human. We research the area and plan an attack.” Aaron scratches his chin as he delivers the information so offhandedly a part of me wants nothing more than to punch him in his temple. Too bad I’m too stunned to move.
“You planned attacks on human villages? All of them?” My brain moves quicker than my mouth. More words. I want more words. But they elude me. Images of my parents’ deaths fill my mind. Grief and pain washes over me. Then my head snaps toward Aaron. I stare at him hard. He feels it. I know he does. Feels my eyes boring into him. I realize I’m biting the inside of my cheek, gnawing so hard my mouth fills with blood.
The Black Forest Page 8