“Uh, no, not exactly,” Will says uncomfortably.
“Yuck! No way! Tell them the truth, Will,” Oliver chimes in impishly. “They looked just like their mother: old and scary!”
“Ollie, it’s not nice to speak about people who were nice to you, to all of us, like that,” Will says levelly and trains his gaze on his younger brother. The mischievous twinkle that sparkled in Oliver’s eyes dulls and his shoulders slump.
I am relieved that Will did not find the women attractive and I am proud of how he handled Oliver’s expression of his opinion. He was calm but firm.
“Sorry,” Oliver says sheepishly. “And please don’t call me Ollie. I’m not a little kid anymore,” he adds and sounds exactly like June.
“Okay,” Will agrees. “I won’t call you Ollie and you won’t speak unkindly about others who aren’t here to defend themselves. Deal?”
“Deal,” Oliver agrees.
“So there are three more humans in the forest?” June says excitedly and steers the subject back to Calyx and her daughters.
A gloomy expression clouds Will’s features. “Calyx and her daughters are,” he starts then pauses. He clears his throat before he continues. “They did not make it. They were killed in an ambush.”
June’s hands rocket to her mouth and cover it. “Oh my gosh,” she says.
“We weren’t there when it happened. We had left for the day to hunt. When we came back the place had been stormed by Urthmen,” Will says through gritted teeth. “That’s been the case with everyone we’ve ever lived with.” He looks at his feet. “I guess we’re bad luck or something,” he adds weakly. His shoulders hunch forward, he looks defeated.
“I don’t believe that,” June disagrees adamantly. “You are not bad luck. And besides, we don’t need luck. We are all safe with Avery here,” she says proudly. “Avery is the best fighter there is.”
I feel Will eyes bore into my skull and I am afraid to turn and look at him. A bead of sweat trickles between my shoulder blades when I hear him speak.
“I know she is. I have never seen anyone fight quite like her,” he says to June but continues to watch me. I see him in my periphery. His eyes are the sky and treetops combined and bathed in a pale glow of sunlight, and they are on me. He and my sister are talking about me, about something that comes as naturally to me as breathing, yet I am so unsettled by it I could jump right out of my skin. “Where did you learn to fight like that, to swing a sword and throw a spear?” he asks me directly.
I turn to face him slowly. My cheeks are burning, but the rest of me feels ice-cold. “My dad,” I say quietly.
“Your dad must’ve been some teacher,” Will says. He studies my face. “I have never seen anyone with skill and speed like yours.”
I squirm uncomfortably. As June knows, accepting compliments is not my strong suit.
“She was better than our dad by the time she was fifteen,” June offers. “Avery has a gift.”
I would like to melt into the stone of the walls and floor I am so embarrassed.
Will is still watching me. “Yes, she certainly does,” he says then looks to June. “I think you’re right. We are safe here.” He smiles at June, and she returns the gesture with a sunny smile of her own.
“Tells us more stories,” June urges him.
“Yes, Will, please tell us stories Mom and Dad used to tell,” Riley says. Tears slip down her cheeks and I slide June a glance. June puts a comforting arm around Riley’s shoulders. Riley nuzzles against her, and I realize in that moment that June’s gift goes beyond bloodshed and violence. It transcends butchery and war. Hers is so much more important, and not just to me, but to the world. She represents all that our present world lacks. She is kind and decent. She has an open heart and a capacity to love that I never even knew existed.
“Okay, let me see,” Will begins. “Once upon a time, people, humans, ruled the Earth. They lived in houses and the adults went to places called jobs and children went to places called schools.”
I look to June again. She is watching me with a mysterious glint in her eyes. Perhaps it is because she has heard me tell similar stories, or perhaps it is something else entirely. I am too tired to figure it out right now. I am enchanted by Will’s voice.
“School was a place where children would gather. They would learn their letters and numbers and sometimes even play together. One grown-up would teach them to read and write and ready themselves for the future.”
“Teachers were important people,” Riley says then yawns.
“Yes, they were,” Will smiles at her affectionately.
He continues telling them about school and jobs and the order that once existed in our disordered world. Before long, June’s eyelids grow heavy. Will’s voice flows smoothly. His cadence is as soothing as floating on a gently rolling river. It has lulled the children, and one by one, they drift off to sleep.
I am left alone with Will.
We clean up any remnants left behind from dinner and straighten the new gear he and his siblings have brought. Once everything is organized and put away, I unroll my sleep mat next to June.
“You’re tired?” he asks quietly.
“I should be, but I’m not,” I admit. Having him in the cave with me, so close by, I doubt I’ll ever be relaxed enough to sleep. “How about you, are you tired?”
“No, I guess I’m like you. I should be exhausted, but the thought of sleeping right now seems impossible.”
“Huh,” I say awkwardly.
Will walks away from the sleeping children and leans against the far wall, exactly where I spent all of last night awake. He slides down until he is sitting. I am suddenly self-conscious of the fact that I am now standing alone, hovering over my sleep sack. I do not know what to do. I do not know whether he wants company and wants me to come and sit beside him or whether he wants to be left alone with his thoughts. I have messed up once today, when I blurted out that I watched my mother be killed by Urthmen back at the lake. I do not want to do it again. I do not want to offend him on his first night without his parents, away from home and at our cave.
“Want company?” I ask stiffly and steal a nervous glance his way.
“Yes, please,” he answers sincerely.
My heart stutters a moment while my brain commands my legs to move. I walk on shaky legs to where he sits and take a seat beside him.
“Okay,” I say as candlelight flickers and dances across the smooth stone walls of the cave. I am thankful for the dim light for once. My face is flushed, I am sure.
When I am seated beside him, he turns his body to face me. As he does, his knee grazes my thigh then rests there, his skin touching mine so lightly it send chills racing over my flesh. “I can’t believe that this day actually happened. None of it seems real,” he says. “I mean, I know it really happened, but I guess I keep hoping it is just a bad dream, a nightmare I’ll wake up from.”
I wish I could wake him and tell him it was all just a dream, a horrible, vivid nightmare. I wish I could make it all go away and take away his pain. But I cannot. Life isn’t that simple. Nothing is easy in our world.
“I am sorry, Will,” I say.
My words are so minimal. They seem so empty on the surface. But I mean them, all of them. I am truly sorry for what he and his siblings have been through.
“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for warning us right before it happened, and for saving Oliver and Riley.” He pauses and swallows hard. His voice is gravelly when he begins talking again. “What you did was brave, braver than anything I’ve ever seen. You risked your life for us. Without you, we would all be dead.”
The starkness of his statement strikes me like a slap in the face. He is thanking me profoundly, genuinely, yet all I can think of is the last sentence he spoke. I’ve only known Will for a less than a day, but the thought of losing him terrifies me.
“You’re welcome,” I say when I realize an awkward amount of time has passed.
I want to say mor
e. I want to tell him I worried for him and his family for two days, that I am so happy to have them with me, but I cannot. He is suffering, grieving the loss of his parents who were taken from him in the most heinous fashion imaginable. I have lived through it. I know what it is like to feel as if a raw, ragged hole has been punched in my chest. I wish I could fill it for him, heal him. But I do not possess the power to do so. Instead, I smile as warmly as I can and try to silently share the sympathy I feel for him.
Will parts his lips and is about to speak, when a horrible din peals through the quiet of the cave.
I know the sound. The sun has set. Night has fallen and the Lurkers have returned.
Hissing and howling clashes with a snarling noise that sounds like the wet slopping of one animal feasting on another.
Will’s face is haunted when he looks from the boulder to me.
“They’re here,” I say. “The Lurkers are back.”
“Back? They were here before?” he asks incredulously.
“Yes, last night,” I say.
“You slept though this last night?” he asks and is clearly rattled by the unnerving shrieks and calls.
“I stayed awake all night, afraid they would get inside the cave,” I say and look at June. She stirs then opens her eyes. Her head shoots up frantically.
“No, no, no,” she cries. “They’re back.”
Oliver and Riley wake as well. They begin to cry. Between the crying children and the incessant yelping outside, the cave is flooded with hash, discordant sounds. I am overwhelmed. My insides tremble. My nerves are frayed. I feel as if I cannot withstand another moment of the loudness.
Just when the noise becomes deafening, Will shushes everyone.
“Please, everyone be quiet for a second,” he says. The children stifle their cries, reducing them to sniffles and small gasps. And when they do, I hear what he heard over their tears.
A clanging sound echoes and grows louder and louder, closer. My head whips toward him and his features mirror mine. Dread drags them down, taking any hope for safety and a good night’s sleep with it. The Lurkers not only regrouped before their return, but they’d also formulated a better plan. They are trying to get inside.
“Oh my gosh,” Will breathes. His eyes are locked on mine. He is looking to me for answers I do not have, chief among them: What do we do now?
After a moment of chaotic, panicked thoughts, I do exactly what I did the night before. I assume my post beside a log and June joins me. She rests her head on my lap and I cup her ear with one hand, stroking her hair with the other. The act soothes both of us slightly, but I know eventually she will fall asleep. Will watches me, then gestures for his brother and sister to follow suit. They drag their sleep sacks to him and place their heads on his legs. He covers their ears and begins humming. I have never heard the tune he hums, or any other tune for that matter, but the sound he creates is comforting. I focus on it and try to block out the cries and clangs of the Lurkers.
Will and I spend the night upright with the people we love closest to us. We do not talk. We do not need to. The glances we exchange at the deepest point of the darkness covey more than thousands of words can express.
When the sound has finally stopped, my ears are ringing. My legs are numb and I feel Will’s head resting against my shoulder. I am achy all over, but happy he was with me, that I was not alone while in charge and experiencing the awful sounds.
I carefully slide June to the floor in hopes of letting her sleep a little while longer. But her eyes snap open.
“It stopped,” she says groggily.
“Yes,” I say. “It is morning.” I point to the faint threads of light seeping in.
“We made it. They did not get in,” she says.
“No, they didn’t,” I say.
Not this time, they did not, I think. But they might tomorrow, or the next day. It is only a matter of time.
I do not share my thoughts. June and the others have been through enough. Besides, I think Will knows as well as I do that we have not heard the last of the Lurkers.
Riley and Oliver stir and Will’s head leaves my shoulder.
“Are we alive?” Riley asks.
“Yes,” Will answers and smiles at her tenderly.
“Why don’t you guys lie down for a bit?” I suggest. “I need to move the boulder and make sure everything is safe before we go to the river and wash, okay?” I tell the children.
Will nods in agreement. “I’ll help,” he says and stands.
I stand too. My body feels kinked and gnarled as we make our way to the boulder. We both crouch to reach it, a movement that makes every muscle in my body complain. Will is strong, stronger than I am by far. We move the boulder with ease and cautiously step outside. The stench of urine is potent as my eyes scour the once-comforting landscape beyond my home of stone. I notice deep holes have been dug all around the entrance and small fragments of rock are littered everywhere.
My heart begins to hammer and the situation comes into stinging clarity.
“Will, come with me,” I say.
He hears the urgent edge to my voice and becomes alarmed. “Help me,” I say as I grip the boulder. “Help me turn it so I can see the side that faces out.”
He and I grunt and labor until the boulder is turned enough for me to see exactly what I feared had happened.
An enormous crater has been chipped away on the surface of the rock, the part that faces outside. The clanging we heard last night was the sound of Lurkers chipping away at the only solid defense we had.
“They’ve chiseled a hole in the boulder,” Will says. Terror creases his face.
“And they will keep chiseling until it shatters. They will be able to get to us in a matter of days,” I say. “We cannot stay here anymore. We are not safe.”
“Where can we go?” he asks. Desperation laces his words. “We’re dead by nightfall if we are still in the woods without shelter.”
“Maybe we should leave the woods,” I say, though I cannot fathom life beyond the walls of green I have called home since I was June’s age.
“We can’t. It’s not possible. There’s nothing for us out there,” Will says and points toward the skyline where the sun has just begun to peek over the horizon.
“I don’t think we have another choice,” I say.
I turn and look at the three small faces that have gathered near us then to back to Will. Oliver, Riley, and Will are now mine and I am now theirs. We are a new, blended family, and even though we are not bound by blood, we are bound nonetheless. I know a new chapter of my life is about to begin. I know now that other humans are out there. I feel the need to find them, to band together and grow our numbers. To do that, we will be forced to venture out into a hostile world ruled by beings who seek to end our existence entirely. We will face Urthmen, if we make it out of the forest. And I don’t know how we will survive the night. It is likely we will not. We might be ambushed by packs of Lurkers before our feet ever touch asphalt. But I do not see another option. I cannot simply sit passively and wait to be executed, clubbed to death by an Urthman who’s infiltrated our sanctity, or torn to shreds and eaten by a Lurker. I cannot stay and wait to die, not with three new people added to my life, people I will give my life to keep alive. I will not fail. I will not surrender June, Oliver, Riley or Will’s life to any creature. It is time to leave the meager safety of the woods and risk creating a life together on Planet Urth.
About the Authors
In early 2010, Jennifer and Christopher Martucci hoped that their life plan had changed. To date, the jury is still out. But late one night, in January of 2010, the stay-at-home mom of three girls under the age of six had just picked up the last doll from the playroom floor and placed it in a bin when her husband startled her by declaring, “We should write a book, together!” Wearied from a day of shuttling the children to and from school, preschool, and Daisy Scouts, laundry, cooking and cleaning, Jennifer simply stared blankly at her husband of fifteen yea
rs. After all, the idea of writing a book had been an individual dream each of them had possessed for much of their young adult lives. Both had written separately in their teens and early twenties, but without much success. They would write a dozen chapters here and there only to find that either the plot would fall apart, or characters would lose their zest, or the story would just fall flat. Christopher had always preferred penning science-fiction stories filled with monsters and diabolical villains, while Jennifer had favored venting personal experiences or writing about romance. Inevitably though, frustration and day-to-day life had placed writing on the back burner and for several years, each had pursued alternate (paying) careers. But the dream had never died. And Christopher suggested that their dream ought to be removed from the back burner for further examination. When he proposed that they author a book together on that cold January night, Jennifer was hesitant to reject the idea outright. His proposal sparked a discussion, and the discussion lasted deep into the night. By morning, the idea for the Dark Creations series was born.
The Dark Creations series, as well as the Arianna Rose series and the Planet Urth series, are works that were written while Jennifer and Christopher continued about with their daily activities and raised their young children. They changed diapers, potty trained and went to story time at the local library between chapter outlines and served as room parents while fleshing out each section. Life simply continued. And in some ways, their everyday lives were reflected in the characters of each series.
As the storyline continues to evolve, so too does the Martucci collaboration. Lunches are still packed, noses are still wiped, and time remains a rare and precious commodity in their household, but it is the sound of happy chaos that is the true background music of their writing. They hope that all enjoy reading their work as much as they enjoyed writing it.
Planet Urth Page 14