The Forbidden Plan

by Erika Starits

  Andrea wailed in pain as a flesheater dug its claws into her side. The injury forced the knife from her hands and it fell to my feet. With a surprisingly steady hand, I grabbed the knife. My acquired knife training and intense desire to protect a wounded Andrea, gave me enough confidence to fight. The flesheater sank its fangs into Andrea’s arm. I ran and jammed the knife into its back, aiming for the most fatal section. It wailed in distress and stumbled. I hurriedly dislodged the knife and stood safely away. The beast fell to the ground in a deafening heap. I barely regained composure before another flesheater swiftly lunged at me. I positioned my knife firmly and prepared for the exposed fangs and claws to penetrate my body.

  All of a sudden, a fifth flesheater crashed through the trees. It dug its fangs into my attacker’s throat, ripping into it with crazed ferociousness. I endeavored to gauge the horrific scene and decide my next plan of action. Zander was slaying a flesheater to the right of me and with ease. The fifth and recently arrived flesheater continued to claw and tear into the last of the original predators. Suddenly, it was the only flesheater standing and heaving. It forcibly faced me with blood dripping from its fangs and claws. Its eyes were glaring yellow and deadly in my direction.

  I cowered and cautiously stepped backward as it steadily advanced. After purposefully raising its claws, it hesitated. I noticed something shocking. There were two healing gashes right under its shoulder. It was the flesheater who rescued me before, and now saved my life again. I strongly believed the creature was Jude Meadows! Immediately after my realization, Zander’s hatchet powerfully slashed through this flesheater’s side.

  The flesheater wailed in torment and fell to his knees. No, no, no. Please no! Zander lifted his hatchet and was poised to kill.

  I cried out, “No! Zander, don’t!!”

  I moved swiftly and pushed Zander as hard as I could. He faltered and recovered his balance. He faced me and was fuming furiously.

  “Ana! What the…? What’s wrong with you!?”

  He regained his position and raised his hatchet in a hasty, livid motion. By this time, the flesheater…Jude, had fallen to the ground in a heap of dust. He was unmoving. I darted between Zander’s dangerous weapon and the listless beast.

  I screamed at Zander, “Don’t hurt him! It’s the flesheater who helped me survive! It’s Jude Meadows!”

  Neither Zander or Andrea had time to respond to my outlandish proclamation. Some of the drudges from our camp crashed through the surrounding trees. Their weapons were flailing. There were raised bows and arrows, hatchets, knives, and swords. They were intent on aggression and ready to defend. They were prepared to kill anything dangerous, including Jude. Voices hollered.

  “Oh no!”

  “What happened!?”

  “Are you injured!?”

  Andrea’s stomach and arm were bleeding badly. Zander was covered in slashes across his arms, face, and brown pants. I managed to make it through the encounter unharmed.

  Jace ran to Andrea and examined her injuries gingerly.

  His normally gruff voice spoke softly, “Oh, Andrea, I am so sorry. Come on, we need Evander to examine this and make sure you were not bitten by a carrier.”

  Jace was sad and grave. He was obviously expecting the worst. He led Andrea back into the trees and on the path leading to our camp.

  A tall, lean man firmly and confidently wielded two knives. He approached with self-assured steps. He was a worker drudge and I was fairly certain his name was Kylar.

  He bellowed, “Did you kill them all for sure? Each creature needs at least one fatal puncture to its head or heart to guarantee death.”

  Kylar examined the kills with determination. He stabbed each creature in its heart. He would ensure they never prowled again. His lanky figure advanced Jude’s unmoving flesheater form. I positioned myself protectively in front of the massive beast. He was still breathing, but had fallen unresponsive.

  Kylar asked incredulously, “What are you doing, girl!?”

  The others approached me, suspicious as well. They stared with heavy disapproval. I stood defiantly and protectively over an unconscious flesheater.

  Zander’s annoyed, deep voice announced, “She’s crazy. She thinks this is the flesheater who saved her life. She claims it is Chief Meadows’s very own son. Jude!”

  Gasps filled the air. Another man, a tan skinned worker drudge entered the scene. He had jet black hair and nearly black eyes. He was the drudge who pulled me into the camp after Jude was shot by an arrow. His name was Tony.

  Tony spoke, “It doesn’t matter if he saved you or not. Or if he is Jude Meadows or not. He is a flesheater now and we have to kill him.”

  He marched toward me with his bow and arrow aimed at Jude’s beastly figure.

  I was on the verge of tears, slightly frantic.

  I begged, “No, please don’t. He just saved me again. He is still more human than creature. Let’s take him to Evander first. Don’t kill him yet. Please.”

  They all scowled at me like I was irrational, dumb, and being unreasonable. In the heated moment, Zander must have pitied me. He did not like how the others were staring with disapproval and irritation. Apparently, menacing glances in my direction were only allowed by him.

  Zander asserted, “Whatever, it’s one injured flesheater. He will be easy to kill once he wakes and acts like a monstrous beast.”

  I inwardly thanked Zander and exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Hopefully, I could convince Evander to keep Jude alive, for as long as possible.

  Zander added, “If it is Jude Meadows, the despicable Chief Meadows’s son, we have enough reason to kill him right here and now. Flesheater or not...but let’s appease her for now.”

  He sneered at me. Zander could be such a jerk.

  Four of the strong, male drudges hauled the lifeless flesheater to our camp in uncomfortable silence. My mind and heart were racing. I was unsure of the actions I should take. I needed to protect Jude’s life for as long as possible. He was undeniably a terrifying creature. But even as a flesheater, he saved my life.

  In Starosa, Jude saved me from Rykeir and educated me. I would always be indebted to him. I would strive to keep him alive as long as he retained even the tiniest glimmer of humanity. I would fight for his life, kicking and screaming, as long as he was more human than ferocious beast.

  When we made it to camp, Evander was busily checking Andrea’s injuries. He was feeling her pulse and inspecting her eyes thoroughly. Jace was nervously combing his hands through his hair and pacing. It was apparent he genuinely cared for Andrea.

  Evander’s wise, frail voice announced, “She was not bitten by a carrier. Her pulse would have already quickened and her pupils would be dilated. Thank goodness, she will be okay.”

  The scene brought a similar one to the surface of my memory. When I was bitten by a flesheater, Old Jake carefully checked me in the same way. He must have known I might change, but he did not mention it. He acted like he was cautiously checking and dressing my injury. In reality, he was ensuring I was not bitten by a carrier.

  Old Jake sheltered me from so much. Remembering this dear man was excruciating so I pushed him away, far away for the moment. Evander faced our approaching group. He wore an expression of alarm as soon as he noticed the men carrying a flesheater. I imagine it was hard to miss. His features indicated apprehension, but his voice was calm and steady.

  He demanded, “Why are you bringing this creature to our camp?”

  The four drudges carrying the flesheater glared at me accusingly. Ridiculous and insignificant, I trudged slowly behind them.

  Zander spoke, “Analysse thinks it’s the creature who rescued her. She claims it just saved her again when we were attacked. She believes it is the future, sinister leader of Starosa. Jude Meadows himself.”

  Zander spit Jude’s name out with venom. Evander tentatively faced me and studied my miserable expression.

  “Is this true, Analysse? Do you think this is the flesheater who saved yo
u before?”

  My voice shook with emotion as I responded, “Yes. Yes, it is. I am also sure it is Jude Meadows. Last night he attempted to write something in the dirt before he was shot with an arrow. I’m certain he was spelling the name Jude.”

  Zander interrupted, “If it’s Jude, we should kill him now! He’s Chief Meadows’s son, the future ruthless leader of Starosa!”

  Zander’s blunt comment made my blood boil with extreme anger. The emotion was steaming off my damp clothes.

  I shouted, “No, you will not kill him because he is the Chief’s son. Jude is a good person. He is nothing like his father.”

  Everyone looked at me skeptically and suspiciously. No doubt wondering how I claimed to know Jude Meadows’s character. I did not falter and answered their inquiring glances resolutely.

  “Jude and I became…well I guess…friends, obviously in secret. He cared for me and I cared for him.”

  The older woman, the sustenance drudge with long silvery hair, gasped audibly.

  I added, “So until he proves to officially be deadly, you’re not killing him.”

  I wanted to sound strong and unyielding, but my voice cracked. It gave away my weakness. Why was I shaking? I fiercely desired to appear more stable. Everyone seemed to be slowly digesting what I admitted to them. Zander was visibly furious at the situation. We turned to Evander, waiting for him to make the final decision.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he established, “Okay, we will keep him alive. But as soon as he is threatening,” his voice turned grim as he added, “which could be as soon as he wakes. We will kill him, Analysse. We have no choice.”

  I restrained tears and motioned agreement.

  “Yes, okay.”

  With a tremble, I added, "Thank you.”

  An audible grumble rippled throughout the group. Most of the drudges did not agree with Evander’s decision in my favor. I disregarded their unwanted opinions unfeelingly. I sat by the fire, staring off into the distance and tried to regain my composure. I was not ready to lose Jude forever, but it was inevitable. The resulting anguish from this dreadful conclusion, was close to unbearable. I sought Evander for a semblance of comfort. I discovered him attentively searching through his belongings and left him to his task.

  We were preparing for a late midday meal, when the flesheater began to thrash. He crept onto all fours and growled savagely. His yellow eyes were filled with rage. He guardedly examined his fresh, bloody gash and surroundings. He was posed for vengeance and on the crazed verge of devouring everyone in sight. Weapons were retrieved and raised, ready for an onslaught. They would not hesitate to execute.

  I screamed, “No!”

  I sprinted toward the agitated creature. I was close enough to feel the raging heat from his body, but could not be reached.

  I pleaded, “Jude! Please, Jude. Are you still in there?”

  The beast glared. In fast, animal movements it advanced and clawed at my face. The unexpected attack sent vicious pain across my cheek. Instantly, Zander’s hatchet was thrown at the flesheater’s legs. He made contact with its right shin. I grasped at my injury and unbelievingly discovered blood on my fingers.

  Jude was no longer a part of the creature. I fell to my knees. I could not bear the sorrowful weight of this dreadful realization. Another drudge lunged at the flesheater, wielding a sword. I shut my eyes tightly and turned away, refusing to witness the assault. Evander’s hoarse sage voice reached my ears.

  He shouted, “No, do not kill him. Halt your weapons!”

  Evander hobbled swiftly, using his makeshift cane for support. He maneuvered as fast as his frail and hunched form would tolerate. He made it to the beast and lifted his arm like he was going to stab the flesheater himself.

  Evander was not holding a weapon though. He was holding a syringe. He thrust the syringe into Jude’s side and scrambled away quickly. Within seconds, the creature fell to the ground with a loud thump, and in a heap of dust. What was in the syringe? Did Evander still have the antibody given to him years ago? Did he give Jude Meadows his one and only protection against the flesheater virus? Had he kept it all these years?

  All of a sudden, the creature’s body was twitching. It writhed back and forth. Its claws were at full point and sharp as swords. It slashed the earth and shrieked a piercing howl. The horrible display signaled terrible suffering. I must have been crying, screaming, or making a scene because Evander ordered Zander to take me away.

  I vaguely remembered him dragging me from the site and into a thicket of trees. He hastily removed me from the awful events. Zander insured our proximity was fairly close to camp so lurking flesheaters would sense we were with the larger group. They only attacked if we were in fewer numbers of two or three. How fitting, this was how many drudges were sent together for remembrance duties. Zander forced me to sit and face the opposite direction of the calamity. I shuddered while he patrolled the area. His hatchet was positioned for defense.

  He warned, “If something goes wrong and he still has the virus. I won't hesitate to kill him. The senseless beast will not hurt you again, Ana.”

  Agonizing screams and the commotion of drudges assailed my senses. They were striving to tame the changing flesheater and the noise was unbearable. I covered my ears to block the devastating sounds of struggle. Zander took pity on my pathetic appearance. His smooth, confident voice penetrated my jumbled concentration and emotions.

  “Ana, he’s probably going to be okay. I can’t believe Evander wasted the cure, but I’m sure he will recover. Your careless accomplice will be human again and alive. You will have your dumb, secret lover back.”

  I strained to stifle endless and foolish tears. I attempted an impassive and stoical expression. In an effort to reassure myself, I repeatedly uttered it was going to be alright. Eventually, the continuous and tormented shrieks from Jude gradually dissipated. Only occasionally, would a piercing cry drift our way. What was currently happening at camp?

  It was a delayed reaction, but I responded to Zander, “He’s not my secret lover.”

  With a hint of irritation, Zander expressed, “I don’t get it. Why do you care so much about what happens to him?”

  “He’s saved my life many times now, Zander. I never told you, but he’s taught me to read and write. I can also do math. I can work with numbers.”

  I spoke softly, “I can do these amazing things. All because of him.”

  Zander appeared shocked at my revelation. It was the only time, anything I said, genuinely took him by surprise.

  He asked, “Are you serious?”

  I beamed and affirmed, “Yes, I am serious. What did you think we were doing during our secret meetings?”

  Zander raised a thick, black eyebrow in my direction.

  “I’d rather not say. I mean, I did witness him press his lips against yours out in the open. Who can say what was happening inside the enclosed shed?”

  He had a disapproving smirk on his smug face. I rolled my eyes and felt a bit flushed.

  I shook my head in objection and uttered, “It was the only time he did that, Zander.”

  Zander asked too quickly, “Truthfully?”

  “Yes. All the other times we were talking or he was teaching me…or sneaking me firstlings’ foods.”

  Zander was astonished and choked on his words.

  “What?! Wow, Ana. You are more rebellious than I originally gave you credit for.”

  He expressed bewildered amazement before he stated, “I can’t believe you know how to read.”

  I brushed aside his comment with a humbled laugh and asserted, “Yes, and for the treasured gift of education on its own, I will always care for him. I will always owe him.”

  In a dejected tone he said, “Yeah, whatever.”

  The conversation ceased.

  After what felt like hours, Zander announced, “Come on, I think we can head back now.”

  The sporadic and agonized screams had thankfully stopped.

 
Chapter 26

  When Zander and I rejoined the group, Jude was in human form again. The painful experience of changing, combined with his injuries resulted in an instant and heavy sleep. The drudges were able to scrounge a pair of extra brown pants previously taken from Starosa. The pants were too big for him. He also wore a black shirt, borrowed from a worker drudge. It was on the snug side.

  He would be grateful there were any extra clothes available when he awoke. Apparently, when he completed the changing he was naked. This detail brought a rush of bashfulness to my cheeks. It was strange seeing Jude dressed as a drudge. It was ironic to witness one of the most elite firstlings wearing ill fitted, drudge clothes. His speckled blonde hair was longer than normal, falling over his closed eyes. His shin and side wounds, from Zander’s hatchet had been treated and bandaged. He appeared to be healing rapidly and recovering from the antivirus, but had been asleep for twenty-four hours. I was anxious for him to wake, but also inexplicably nervous. I was uncertain of what to expect.

  Zander caught me staring at Jude. He could not conceal his disdain for the situation and his voice boomed loudly.

  “Evander, why did you waste your one and only cure on him? You squandered a valuable item on a firstling!? The very firstling, intended to be the future leading drudge murderer. The son of the most horrible man who continues to prowl Starosa.”

  Evander glanced at me and I averted my gaze from the sleeping Jude to him. I motioned disapproval for Zander’s heartless remark. I obviously did not agree with Zander. Not only on the cure being misused on Jude, but also about Chief Meadows being the most horrible man in Starosa. This title unquestionably and wholly belonged to Rykeir.

  Zander’s questioning outburst grabbed everyone’s attention. They were also curious about Evander’s motives for using the syringe on Jude. I was extremely grateful, but interested in Evander’s reasoning as well. Appeasing my wishes, seemed a futile motive.

  The sparse, white, and coarse hairs on Evander’s head billowed in the soft and warm afternoon breeze.

  He spoke firmly, “I do not care who he is. I do not care who his father is. In my eyes, he earned it.”