Will’s eyes are glacial tunnels filled with a frigid reality lurking just below their surface. The threat of a smile twitches across his lips. “Avery, enough already,” he says in a detached tone I find maddening. “You’re mad and I get it. The truth stings.”
“What?” I barely manage through clenched teeth. My hearing must have wavered, must be playing tricks on me. Surely I didn’t hear him just echo a sentiment similar to the one Belchik shared in his thinly veiled threat.
“Come on, let it go already. I mean it was good, the whole Azlyn thing. It served its purpose. But it’s run its course. We’re here now. And the King’s army is headed here. You did a good job. No one can say you didn’t. But now it’s time to step aside.”
“Step aside?” If he’s saying what I think he’s saying, I’ll have trouble staying on my feet, I’m sure.
“Yeah, step aside as leader and let Belchik take over.”
The air I draw is suddenly too thick. Congealed to a thick impenetrable paste, it’s taken on a life of its own, viscous and foul, pressing all around me, stifling me. I am dumbfounded to the point of gasping. Meager ribbons of gummy atmosphere do little to relieve the smothering sensation taking hold. “Let Belchik take over.” All I can do is echo the words as my mind struggles to process what he’s said.
“Yes. That man is a warrior who’s battled his entire life. He didn’t spend his days hiding in the forest like we did for most of our lives.” Will speaks conversationally, as if he’s discussing something simple and pedestrian like where we should hunt. But he’s not. He thinks he’s persuading me to throw my hands in the air and say, “Oh well! You’re right! Big, scary, bully Belchik is in and I’m out!” If he thinks that, he’s out of his mind. I’m not cowed by scary beings—human or otherwise—and I do not bow to bullies. Squeezing my balled fists so tightly I swear I’ve broken the skin, I lean in and say. “I think I’ve done pretty well leading these people. It’s a shame you feel otherwise. But if Belchik is your choice, I pity you. He isn’t a leader at all. He’s a lazy drunk who doesn’t have the ability to think on his feet and make the decisions we’ve made as a team.” I pause, realizing I’m trying to validate what’s already been validated, and to a traitor. “Wait a minute.” I touch my hand to my forehead. “Why am I even defending myself to you? Everything that’s been accomplished speaks for itself. This is my army. And these are my people. Belchik will never lead. Period.”
My line has been drawn. My position is clear. The air between us crackles with a charge similar to the atmosphere just before a storm. Ragged breaths are kept quiet. Several beats pass before the strained silence is broken.
“I’ll leave then.” Will shrugs.
I don’t know whether he’s bluffing or whether he’d truly rather leave and face the vast, dangerous terrain beyond our wall rather than have me as his leader. And I no longer care. I’m about to say as much when a small voice chimes.
“What? Where are we going?” Riley appears. Oliver is at her side. She wrings her hands in front of her and a groove forms between her brows. Oliver appears no less concerned, though he demonstrates it differently. Stance wide and arms folded across his chest, the composure he wishes to exude is negated by the slight quiver of his lower lip.
“We have to leave. Avery is kicking us out.” Will twists and looks over his shoulder to inform his siblings of the false information.
“What? No! I’m not kicking you out! I’d never do that!” I protest in a shrill, strident voice.
“Oh, but you are. They’re not staying here without me so by throwing me out, you’re throwing all of us out, probably to our deaths.” Will trains a steely gaze my way.
Riley begins crying. Each tear that falls pierces my heart. “I don’t want to go,” she sobs.
An undercurrent of remorse conflicts with the rage and hurt flowing through me. It knots my gut before roaring to life and choking the air from my lungs. I lick my lips and try to take a breath, to make a sound, but weight, overpowering and devastating, settles deep in my chest, crushing and slaying every ounce of air in its wake. I cannot breathe. My lungs refuse to fill. They remain frozen, like blocks of ice so cold their chill burns. I cannot speak. Words are immobilized, suspended in the deep yawning pit of despair I’ve plummeted into.
I didn’t think this through. In my seemingly infinite store of wrath, Riley and Oliver never factored into the equation, only Will. My voice rises, surprisingly strong and clear, a sharp contrast to how I feel. “Riley, Oliver, I don’t want you to leave. I’m just mad, really mad right now. I said things I didn’t mean.” Speaking gently to the children isn’t a challenge. Pretending I want to share a city with Will, to lay eyes on him ever again, is. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Sniffles give way to a brightening expression. “You mean it,” Riley asks.
“Of course I do, sweetie.”
Riley rushes into my arms. I hug her tightly. “I love you, Avery, and June and Sully, too.”
“And I love you,” I reply and mean it.
She stays as she is and mutters, “Please don’t say things you don’t mean ever again.”
I look over her head and see that the smug, self-satisfied grin that slithered across Will’s face earlier has faltered. “I won’t I promise.”
Riley gives a final squeeze before releasing me and disappearing with Oliver upstairs.
Once they’re gone, Will and I are left to face each other. The rage has bled from me. The sorrow has numbed. I am hollow. The boy I saw in the forest with the tan skin and glittering eyes, the one I risked my life to warn and fought to save, is gone. Acceptance of that fact is stark. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again and if you see me, don’t even look at me.” My voice echoes with a flat, detached quality that, while alien to my ears, conveys exactly how I feel: dead. “You and I are over. Do you understand me?” I say without a trace of emotion. “You were my family once, but you’re not anymore. You made your choice. We’re not family, we’re not friends. We’re nothing.” I turn from him and start to leave then stop; a final point I wish to make motivating me. “And Will, if you ever betray me again, I will throw you out faster than you can say my name. I promise you that.” I stare at him with insensitive eyes. For a moment, I swear I see shame and hurt flicker across his features. After all that’s happened, I’m certain it’s just my mind playing tricks on me, showing me what it thinks I want to see. Any chance of reconciliation at this point is nonexistent.
Leaving Will, and a little bit of my past behind, I walk away.
Against my will, hot tears scald the back of my eyelids and my throat tightens so that I fear I’ll choke. Derrick approaches. I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d be happy to see him when I lived in New Washington but today I’m grateful for the sight of his long, narrow face.
“Avery!” He calls out and waves to me then sets off at a trot toward me. When he reaches me, he’s slightly winded. Two boys who look only a little older than Oliver trail several steps behind him. “I think you need to talk to these guys. Our patrols outside the gate just picked them up. They were coming down the highway on foot and what they’ve told us is pretty interesting.”
The boys who were several paces behind him stand in front of me now. Not overly thin or dirty, both appear in decent health, as if they’re adept at survival. “Okay, what’s so interesting?” I ask them, trying desperately to force enthusiasm into my lifeless tone.
One speaks. “I’m Sean,” he says. Straight, jet-black hair grazes his cheek and veils one almond-shaped eye. “And this is my brother, John.”
“Hello Sean and John,” I say and hate the robotic quality of my voice. I search their faces hoping they’ll continue.
“Okay, so, we just heard the Urthmen army is headed here and we were wondering if you’d like to have guns, automatic guns, to fight them when they get here,” Sean says, excitement shining in the one eye that’s visible.
“Sure, I’d like automatic weapons, and how about
a few tanks. Oh and a fighter plane, too.” I shrug and glance at Derrick. “If I’m making a wish list, I might as well make it a good one.”
“I’m not kidding,” Sean says and returns my attention to him. “There’s a shelter underground. It was built beneath the Air Force base once called Castlerock. It still holds all sorts of weapons.”
What he’s saying is too farfetched to believe. My head throbs in time with my heartbeat. I’m not in the mood for fanciful stories and tales of underground armories. I’ve had my fill of delusions for the day. “How could you possibly know that?” I ask and do not bother to hide my impatience.
“It’s true,” John adds, as if that’s going to convince me once and for all.
I rub my temples and close my eyes for a split-second.
“It’s true. We’re not making it up,” Sean says sincerely. “Our family has known about it forever, though it was a classified location few knew about. Our great-great-grand father was a Colonel in the Army during the War of 2062. This base we’re talking about, everyone stationed there was hit with the virus and went mad, or died. No one ever made it into the underground shelter. Our great-great grandfather, the Colonel, was originally stationed there. He was called to Washington during the time the viruses were unleashed, and went underground into a different shelter. He swore until the day he died that the shelter was never used, that the weapons are still there.”
I’ll admit that his story, while implausible, is compelling. “If it’s real, why hasn’t anyone in your family gone there in the last two hundred years?”
“We’ve been halfway across the country,” John says. “We were sheltered for generations, tucked safely in the Everwood Forest. Tall trees, lots of caves and canyons. We never wanted to risk leaving when we were safe.”
“Yeah,” Sean adds. “Until last month.” Profound sadness drags the corners of his mouth downward.
“What happened last month?” I ask despite knowing in my heart of hearts what transpired.
“They found us.” His three words chill the marrow in my bones. I know who “they” are all too well. “Urthmen stormed our camp. We were the only two who managed to get out of there alive.” Regret tinges his tone. “With nowhere to go, we decided to set out in search of the weapons. Finding them would be our only chance to survive.”
“So the two of you just started wandering aimlessly in search of a shelter that may or may not exist?” As soon as the words leave my lips and I hear the sharpness of them, I regret speaking them.
Faint color touches Sean’s cheeks. I’ve embarrassed him. “No, not at all. We have a map.”
“A map? And you’ve been able to make it this far without being seen.”
“We’re good at hiding,” John says with a shy smile.
Sully joins our conversation. Judging from the look on his face, I can tell he’s heard the same story I’m hearing. “Well, what do you think?” he asks. A blend of curiosity and eagerness sparkles in his rich brown eyes. The sight of them, of him, is welcome. I’d like nothing more than to collapse into his arms and be still for hours. But I can’t. King Leon’s army is coming for us. The more advantages we have, the better the odds of our survival, of our victory. “I wouldn’t count on it still being there but it’s worth a look if it’s not too far from here, don’t you think.” I offer an almost imperceptible nod and he continues. “Castlerock is about a two-hour car ride from here.”
“It’s hidden, but it’s there. Only a few people knew of its existence, and they’re all dead,” Sean says sorrowfully.
“We have the original map,” John offers and pulls a rolled piece of paper. Yellowed, worn and fragile looking, the page appears authentic. “It belonged to great-great-grandpa Lin. It’s a military-issue map, the real thing.”
My gaze darts from Sean and John, to Sully then to the map before resting finally on Derrick. “Can you get everyone working on the moat?”
“No problem,” Derrick replies with a frighteningly wide grin.
“I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone. Sully and I will go and with you here overseeing construction of the moat, we won’t lose time or productivity,” I say more for myself than Derrick. Regardless, he beams at the responsibility of interim leadership.
“No worries, Avery. I can handle things here. The digging will begin and everything on this end will be fine,” Derrick assures me. “If all that these boys have said is true, these weapons could save us. They could tip the scale in our favor.”
Derrick’s words echo my thoughts exactly. “Okay, let’s do it.” I turn to Sully and say, “Grab Andris, Arnost, Rion and Killian. We’ll get one of the pickup trucks and go.”
Our small group disperses in preparation of our journey. Though many details still need to be addressed, only one among them plagues me. I still have to tell June that she’ll remain here while I venture out beyond the gates.
Chapter 11
Shooting down the highway as we race toward Castlerock, the pickup truck seems to find every bump and dip in the road. John, seated by the door, stares at the map unrolled on his lap, seemingly unbothered by the jarring. Of course, sitting in the middle of the bench seat as I do, I absorb the brunt of the bobbling. But being jostled around as I am is the least of my troubles. June’s face when I shared with her our plan to follow the map is burned in my brain, the fear, the hurt. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly for a moment then gaze out beyond the windshield, focusing on what’s ahead.
Golden light streams in brilliant ribbons against a pastel-blue sky, the midday sun warming the earth unseasonably and tricking the senses into believing that spring, rather than winter, approaches. Riding beside me and with the window lowered so that air infused with buttery heat can enter, Sully throws me a sidelong glance and winks. I face him and smile and am relatively certain that John didn’t take notice. Not that it matters. I don’t know why it would matter. Sully and I are together. So what? Until now, the only reason I kept our relationship under wraps was to spare Will’s feelings. Now, Will’s feelings are no longer my concern.
Will. His name conjures a slew of emotions the warm day and open road have worked hard to dispel. And while not entirely alleviated, my mood has improved exponentially. Leaving the city has helped. So has having my concentration refocused. Searching for the underground arsenal that John and Sean insist exists has become my top priority.
I stare straight ahead, banishing Will and Belchik from my mind, and imagine the advantage we’ll have if this hunt we’ve embarked upon comes to fruition, if weapons do, in fact, wait in an underground bunker beneath a defunct military base.
“The map says to turn off the highway up there.” John interrupts my musing and points toward a turnoff.
Sully guides the truck along the narrow roadway flanked by tall grass and low shrubs until we reach the end. The road forks in opposite directions. “Left or right, boss?” Sully asks John.
“Right,” John answers after consulting the map briefly.
Sully obliges by turning right until the road ends again. Faced with another split, Sully repeats his question. “Left or right?”
John answers, “Right.”
Sully veers right and we bump along a side street. Edged by denser foliage and tangled clumps of hostile looking bramble, the paved stretch is dimpled with deep potholes. We seem to hit each, much to the dismay of my back.
“For all we know, we could be headed right into an Urthmen village,” Sully comments.
His words scuttle across my skin like innumerable spider legs. He’s right. We could be driving right into enemy territory.
“There wasn’t anything built here before the war, and we know they aren’t capable of building anything themselves, so I doubt Urthmen are here.” John trains his almond-shaped eyes straight ahead, his sleek black hair hiding half his face. “Turn left up there.” He points to another crossroad ahead.
Sully steers the pickup left. The street, narrowed by protruding tree branches, looks as if it hasn’t
been traveled in quite some time. Lengths of thin, thorny twigs scrape along the body of the pickup and resemble barbed wire. We try to navigate between them, around fallen trees and overgrown brush, banging along as the tires tread over rocks and rough terrain. Between the riot of unwelcoming growth and the rocky roadway, doubt that we’ll make it much farther begins to worm its way into my brain.
That doubt is alleviated somewhat when John calls out and gestures to an interruption in the thick growth on the right a few hundred feet in front of us. “There’s the road that leads to the base.”
“Sheesh, we have to get through a maze to get to it,” Sully mumbles under his breath.
I suppress a smile, though one threatens. After all, those of us in the cab of the pickup truck have enjoyed a far more pleasant experience than the others in the bed. Andris, Arnost, Rion, Killian and Sean ride in back and have likely had to duck to avoid having their eyes gouged out by lasso-like lengths of spiky growth, and have undoubtedly been tossed around with every turn we’ve taken.
The final street we turn onto ends before a tall, chain-link fence that spans the perimeter of a pair of flat-roofed, rectangular structures situated on grass. A strip of tarmac separates the two buildings. Clusters of weeds prick from cracks in the pavement and vines grow among the links in the fence. Still, it is obvious the land before us performed a very important purpose once upon a time.
“This is the military base my great-great-grandfather was once stationed at,” John says with quiet reverence.
Sully drives slowly and pulls the truck as close to the fence as possible. He’s forced to stop, however, when a tree, long and thick, lies on its side and blocks what appears to be the entrance to the property.
“I guess we’re going the rest of the way on foot,” I say as Sully slams the gearshift into park.
Not wasting a moment, John opens the passenger side door and slips from his seat. With his map in hand, he scans the base, slowly shifting his head from left to right.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 12