The Offering

by E. R. Arroyo

  He gives it a push and pull, but it doesn’t open. Dylan and I reach through the vines and bushes, him going left and me going right in search of a latch. I find a simple hook, not even locked. When I flip it open, Dylan pushes the hefty gate open.

  We follow the gravel road back toward the cars until it dissipates and all that remains is a pathway between trees wide enough to fit vehicles through. We find the entry point into the woods, also well camouflaged. In the short time that follows, Dylan and I walk ahead of the vehicles directing them along the gravel path.

  “There,” Dylan says, finally. He points ahead to where the path turns into an actual road. Pavement and all. We jog to see it and wave the others through. As Max catches up to us, we hop in the truck bed again.

  The road narrows as we go, winding us up the mountainside. Trees cast the entire street in shadow as we turn a sharp corner toward a tunnel with a gray-stoned facing and greenery surrounding it. Our entire convoy comes to a stop, but I can’t tell why until I stand up to look past the leading car. A few yards in front of his bumper lies a slaughtered pack of savage monsters just like the one we faced closer to Antius. The heap is a bloody mess, blocking the road. Parts of the stack look smashed, like it’s been driven over.

  How many packs are out there?

  At least we know we’re still headed the right direction. But some of our cars won’t be able to drive over the pile of bodies.

  “Don’t worry,” Tyce shouts, making his way past us. He grins at me. “Stay put, doll face. Leave the dirty work to us.”

  For once, I’m happy to obey, though several others get out to help the elders clear the bodies, dumping them over the ledge where there’s a steep drop off. I notice more than one of the elders sniffing the fallen and I wonder if they’re considering eating the flesh, though the idea churns my stomach.

  Movement catches my eye right as we’re about to pull off and I look to the hillside above the tunnel where a handful of naked savages descend toward us. Just as feral and scary as the others we’ve seen, they approach fearlessly, their dark eyes hungry.

  I draw my gun and I’m not the first one with the idea because bullets begin to fly from behind me and I join in. But each savage that falls is replaced by another as more of them descend. As I replace my clip, the creatures leap into the street, right in our path, coming for us. We all keep shooting. Max and Wayne get out of the truck to take better aim.

  When the crowd begins to thin, Max shouts for us to move ahead. Backing up our entire convoy on such a narrow road, next to a cliff no less, is not an option.

  Right before we disappear into the tunnel, one of the savages falls onto the top of the truck’s cab and he scrambles toward me. Then another falls on top of me as we’re plunged into the dark tunnel. I struggle against him, trying to avoid his deadly claws.

  A loud bang rings out and then another as Dylan fires his gun. I reach for my knife and drive it into the monster’s cool flesh as his claws scrape the side of my neck. The beast and I cry out, then his body is yanked off of me. Adrenaline courses through me and the fresh gashes in my neck throb as I try to find Dylan in the darkness. But I can’t see a thing until we zip out of the tunnel into daylight.

  Dylan helps me off my back, and off of the bomb. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen on it. As I rise the detonator slips down my chest, the chain broken.

  Near the tailgate, Eli cowers in the corner. He struggles to catch his breath, wiping his bloody hands and knife frantically on his pants. I look back at the tunnel to see what’s happening.

  I fish the detonator out of my shirt, briefly examining the chain. Dylan doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes are glued to the tunnel. I tuck the detonator in my backpack and zip it up.

  The van that was right behind us is taking too long to emerge. I stare at the black hole, anticipating the worst. A low whistle precedes the vehicle then it pops out of the darkness. Monsters hang all over the van, gripping the metal rails of the rack on top and slamming their fists into the glass. One shatters the windshield, diving in and jamming its claws into the chest of the van’s driver.

  He does his best to control the steering wheel as blood oozes from his chest and mouth. For a moment I’m certain he’s making eye contact with me and then the fiend sinks its teeth into his neck.

  The van careens away from the rock wall to the right and toward the cliff to the left. I gasp as it plummets over the edge, soldiers and savages included. Snarls and cries for help merge into a single sound that drops like a weight in the pit of my stomach and crashes out of sight.

  For a moment I don’t realize we’ve stopped, and when I do, I panic. No more vehicles have emerged. Dylan jumps out of the truck following Max toward the tunnel, weapons drawn. I stumble out to catch up.

  A series of loud pops echo from within the tunnel.

  As I take aim into the darkness, ready for whatever might jump out, I notice a dim set of lights getting brighter. Headlights. An engine grows closer, and from the sound, it’s coming fast.

  Dylan slides to a stop in front of me, his boots skidding on the pavement to get traction, and as soon as he does, he rushes toward me. Glancing back in time to see the bus push through the opening, I turn back to the truck. Amy at the wheel, the tires squeal as she peels out and the truck starts moving. But not fast enough.

  Eli is still in the back of the truck, ashen and right in the path of the speeding bus. My heart sinks when the fear sets in. His name is almost on my lips, ready to cry out for him to jump, but the wheels finally gain traction. Amy steers the truck ahead, just barely in time to avoid collision with the bus.

  Before I have time to process anything more, Dylan shouts, “Move!”

  I don’t see what he’s yelling about until after he grabs me around the waist and throws himself and me to the side of the road, our bodies sliding dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

  The entourage races past us. Beasts hang on through broken windows, the soldiers and City boys fighting them off as they go. The drivers all struggle to keep themselves on track and clear of the ledge.

  Gunshots fire, knives slash, and bodies hit the pavement with sickening thuds. I scramble to my feet, holding tight to Dylan’s arm. With the convoy not showing any signs of stopping, our only choice is to run. So we do.

  I fire shots at the savages still hanging onto the tops of cars and trucks. At least half my shots miss.

  A high-pitched wail pierces through the ruckus behind us. I chance a look over my shoulder in time to see more and more savages pouring onto the street from the mountain. My hands tremble as the possibility becomes real that our militia is leaving us behind in a sea of monsters.

  I stop running and call out to Dylan before whipping my gun around to fire on the horde as they converge on us. Brakes squeal as the final van passing through the tunnel comes to a halt and elders pour out, taking on their vicious look-alikes hand to hand.

  When the two groups become one tangled mess, I put my gun away and pull both my knives instead, driving them both into the nearest adversary. As I slash and stab, I drift farther from Dylan, and each effort I make to get closer to him is cut off. I call his name but he’s concentrating too hard to respond, though his eyes meet mine for a split second before a beast knocks him from his feet.

  “No!” I cry out, panic paralyzing me.

  Searing hot pain erupts through my left arm and I lose my grip on that knife. Claws dig deeper as a beast wrenches my arm, forcing my back to arch as I wail.

  Before his sharp, rotten teeth can connect with my exposed neck, I drive my other blade into him two times. He releases me and I attempt to grab him, but my left arm doesn’t respond, shooting with pain instead of obeying.

  I kick the brute away from me and rear back to stab him, but I don’t get close enough to land the blow. An arm wraps around my waist and I struggle against it until I realize it’s Dylan dragging me away.

  Before I can even see what’s happening, he lifts me and hands me to Tyce who
pulls me into the van, shouting at the driver to move. Dylan’s barely inside before the tires squeal and the van begins moving.

  Dylan and Tyce hover over me, panic darkening their eyes.

  “What?” I ask, unable to figure out why they’re looking at me like this.

  Dylan touches my left arm and I bite down a scream as fire surges through it. “It’s broken,” he says as my eyes begin to water.

  Tyce looks out the rear windshield, and whatever he sees must anger him because he slams his fist into the gray seat, releasing a growl.

  Dylan digs in seat pockets and under the seats. I have no idea what he’s looking for.

  “Tyce, what’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing his wrist.

  His eyes meet mine for a second before he looks out the window again. “Five. We lost five pops.” His voice quivers, his eyes rimmed in red. It’s the most shaken I’ve ever seen him.

  “Here,” Dylan says, holding something stiff against my skin. He rips a piece of fabric and attaches the cold metal to my forearm. He grabs the strap to my backpack. “Let’s take this off.”

  “No,” I tell him, gripping it and holding it in place.

  He grits his teeth and with the leftover fabric from my splint he forms a sling, tying it off around my neck. “Try to keep your arm close to your body.”

  I nod in reply, trying to block out the pain. When I keep my arm still it almost doesn’t hurt for the tiniest of moments. With his hand on the back of my head, Dylan presses his lips against my temple, breathing hard.

  I crane my neck to see if the monsters are chasing us. The van hits a bump, jarring my injury, shooting pain through my arm. I tuck my head between my legs, bracing my left arm against my torso with my right hand. I release a growl of frustration. I can’t believe I let this happen.

  When we finally catch up to the others, they have all stopped. Everyone is still in their vehicles, with a few guns aimed out the open or broken windows.

  Max jogs toward us. He seems to relax a little when he sees me.

  Someone pounds on the side door to the van and I wince at the sound. Tyce slides it open and Eli jumps in, wrapping his arm around my neck.

  “Did we leave anyone behind?” Max asks.

  “Only the dead ones,” Tyce tells him, his voice grim.

  “I’m sorry.” Max tips his head, then slaps the side of the van before jogging back to his truck.

  “Eli, you had me scared to death,” I groan.

  He blushes then his gaze drifts down to my broken arm. “Does this mean I’m not the only one sitting out the fight?”

  My jaw slackens a little. Stunned and formulating my response, I look to Dylan and Tyce. Something tells me they are likely to agree with Eli so I cut them off before they can answer. “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, so I’m the only one that rule applies to?”

  “Eli,” I sigh, not wanting to get into it. Can’t he see I’m just trying to look out for him? I’d be devastated if something were to happen to him. “Eli, no,” I say, softening my voice. “What if we have to run?”

  “I ran to the van just now.”

  “Yeah, and how did that feel on the ol’ ankle?” I point to where he doesn’t seem to realize he’s gripping his injury.

  Tyce clears his throat. “Doll, you oughta know by now we’re all stubborn as can be.”

  I do know that. And I both love and hate it about them all. Because of situations like these.

  “We can both sit out. I bet you’re good at ‘watching the vehicles,’ too,” Eli says, pretending to be nonchalant, and mocking me a little at the end of his statement.

  I roll my eyes. I won’t let him get hurt. I can’t. “I can still run and I can still hold a gun or a knife. And I can still detonate the bomb if necessary.” I clear my throat. I don’t want to say this. I so don’t want to say this. But it’s the only way he’ll listen. I hope. On the brink of tears, I clutch at my aching chest. “You can barely walk, much less jog or run. And you’re too young to even be here, Eli. You’re just a skinny kid. Against one of theirs, you don’t stand a chance. I don’t want to lose you out there, and there’s no point. You won’t be helping us. You would just be a distraction because we’d be so worried about making sure you’re okay. You should’ve stayed behind.” I already hate myself for saying it.

  His eyes widen and get red, his expression darkening as he gets choked up and looks away. “That’s what this is? You just don’t want me there. I didn’t know I was such a burden.”

  I hate myself even more.

  He buries his face in his hands for a brief moment, trying to shirk the pain I’ve caused him but not doing a good job.

  I want to apologize and hug him, but maybe him being mad at me is the answer to keeping him from harm’s way. Or maybe it’s not about harm’s way at all. Maybe I don’t want him to become a killer. It’s not the same as hunting animals or fighting savages. Killing a real person would change him. Maybe a part of me needs him to stay innocent.

  So I don’t smooth it over. I don’t put my hand on his arm like I want to, or hug him, or anything. I let him marinate in his hurt and silently beg him to listen to me. To keep his distance from battle.

  We don’t know what we’ll find when we finally catch up with Antius, so simply staying in the car might not do him any good, but I can hope.

  We all ride in silence as we make our way through the mountains. At some point I fall asleep on Dylan’s shoulder. And when I wake up it’s dark outside, all the vehicles have stopped, and from what I can tell everyone is asleep. In their vehicles. I have no idea how long I’ve been sleeping.

  I stretch my neck to both sides and then I look out the window as my eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness. I can almost make out the woods around us and it seems like we’re still in the mountains.

  And then I see a light.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A flashlight, to be specific, bobbing around in the woods and getting closer to us. I wake Dylan and point it out. I lean over Eli to slide open the side door. When my feet land on the ground outside, a door creaks open on another vehicle nearby. I’m not the only one who sees the light. By the time I round the van and face the woods there are now three lights.

  Whoever it is, if they don’t already know we’re here they soon will. Dylan rouses some of the guys in our van while I jog over to the next vehicle where someone’s already hunkered down, peering into the woods. I kneel beside him, realizing it’s Boone. I put my hand on his gun and shake my head. Then I press my finger to my lips.

  Smitt slips out of the same car.

  “Keep quiet but notify the others,” Boone whispers. Smitt nods and softly pads toward the other vehicles.

  I pull my knife, and Boone pulls one out of his boot. We scurry back over to Dylan, just as he’s joined by Tyce, Flex, Gavin, and a few others. Dylan tells the rest of them to stay quiet, and they do. An elder startles in his sleep and we all freeze. If he realizes someone’s out there there’ll be no keeping him quiet.

  Eight of us trek away from the vehicles before we cut into the woods, hoping to circle around and get a better look at who’s coming. It doesn’t take long for me to realize how the darkness makes it near impossible to see until we’re close.

  Creeping as quietly as we can toward the lights, we slow down. We discern their footfalls and match our pace with theirs. With eight of us, it isn’t easy. Knowing I’m the lightest on my feet, I hold up my hand for them to wait so I can get closer.

  Dylan nods, agreeing with me. Strange.

  As best I can tell there are only three men—the ones holding flashlights. I move closer, but they are moving quickly toward the road where our soldiers wait, some of them possibly still sleeping and unaware. I have to do something. And I don’t have time to run it by the others.

  I sprint toward them, zipping around trees, not straight for them, but enough to make noise to draw their attention. All three flashlights whip my direction. I dart behind a skinny tree and pause. If the
y shoot at me, they’d hit me for sure, but as long as I’m still they won’t see me in the shadows. But I can’t stay still. I take a deep breath.

  Then another one. What I’m about to do is probably a dumb idea.

  I grit my teeth and dash directly across the path of one of their lights making sure they see me. I go back to my erratic pattern through the trees and I’m aware that they are chasing me. But I’m fast, I remind myself. But I’m not as fast as I would be if I weren’t bracing my broken arm, holding it close to my body. They’re closing in on me.

  I draw them toward my comrades, silently begging them to understand what I’m doing.

  “Freeze,” one of my pursuers shouts.

  Out of nowhere massive arms envelop me as Dylan whispers my name and pulls me out of harm’s way. The men chasing me are knocked to the ground, our crew jumping out at them, flawlessly executing my unspoken plan. I pant, catching my breath while Dylan helps the others disarm the three men and bring them to their feet.

  “Make a single sound or move one muscle out of line and I’ll slash you open,” Tyce warns, probably holding a knife to his prisoner’s throat. “Same for all of ya.”

  We hustle back toward the road and the men don’t fight.

  “You okay?” Dylan whispers when we fall behind the group enough for a moment of privacy.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  “I do trust you. The part I’m working on is not freaking out every time you put your life in danger.”

  I smile wide as we hike over the rocky ground. “Why Dylan, that was a touch dramatic,” I tease. “Are you working on that, too?”

  “How about we focus on getting out of this ordeal alive and then I’ll work on anything you want.”

  “Promise?” I grin, huffing from exertion. I don’t normally get winded this easily. Must be the altitude.

  “When this is over we can talk about promises too.”