Thumps and loud footsteps shake the bed of the truck. Killian stretches and Rion rubs his back. Andris and Arnost extend and flex their thick muscles. Sean joins his brother, leaning in close so that their stick-straight hair blends to a single, shiny swath of ebony.
“I guess we’d better go.” Sully opens his door and climbs out. He offers a hand to me and helps me down. Interlacing his fingers with mine, he strokes the soft skin between my thumb and index finger. The feel of his touch, of his hand in mine, is a comfort so welcome I nearly weep. But all too soon, Andris waves us forward. And even though Will is nowhere in sight and our ties have been severed, my grip weakens, old habits harder to break than I think. A small frown creases Sully’s face. I elbow him lightly and smile. He returns my smile and any tension that may or may not have threatened dissipates.
The sun beats down from above as we make our way to the chain-link barrier. With no other way of getting onto the property, we climb the fence. Once on the other side and with our feet on firm ground, we walk along the paved strip. Blacktop curves around the two buildings and expands. Tall tan fronds, stiff and dried, spring from crevices and debris of every kind litters the land. But perhaps the most striking of debris comes in the form of rusted planes.
One, in particular, resembles a massive, mighty winged creature. Corroded and colored a coppery hue, the wreckage is a solemn reminder of a nation that once proudly protected her sovereign soil. Inexplicable sadness fills me. Wide, closely-set windows resemble eyes and stare vacantly while a pointed nose tips upward. Beneath it, an arc of tarnish, darker than the rest, curves to a melancholy smile. The fuselage, so eerily expressive, points to the heavens with wings outstretched, but its rudders are grounded by an open-topped vehicle, mangled and tossed on its side, preventing it from ever taking flight. The sight is haunting. I shiver as we pass it and continue following John.
“That’s where we’re going.” John points to a building about a half-mile away. Pale concrete marred by grimy smears and crumbling stone forms a structure devastated by fire and impact. “The weapons bunker is beneath it.”
I look from face to face. Awareness that our dream may be realized vibrates among us. We set off at an energetic pace toward the building.
Intermittently, phantom shapes, sooty and gray, lengthen and stretch across the stony ground. I look from them to the sky, expecting to see a figure overhead—a cloud, a branch, anything—but all I see is a periwinkle canvas unfurled before me.
“What is it?” Sully asks as I continually glance skyward.
“Nothing, I guess.” I shrug and try to dismiss the nagging sensation that’s settled over me.
He arches a brow. “Really?” He tilts his head toward me. “You do know you’re an awful liar, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that once or twice before.” I swat the air before me as I continue walking.
“Then what’s up?”
The oily shadows stain the asphalt at my feet again, only this time they’re larger, closer. The bright sunlight above us dims, and warning whispers up my spine, the fine hairs on my body rising and quivering.
“What the heck?” Sully says. He looks at the ground then lifts his chin, casting his gaze to the heavens. “Those look like vultures circling in the sky.” He strains his eyes. “It’s hard to tell, though.”
Slipping my binoculars from my pocket and peering through them I get a better look at what he sees. “Vultures?” I ask. I’ve heard of vultures. Scavengers through and through, vultures have been known to feed on carcasses, often appearing in vast numbers on battlefields to feast on the dead and dying, never on living creatures. “Don’t they eat dead things, like animals?” I continue to stare through the lenses. The underside of their wings is a sliver that shimmers with an almost powder-blue iridescence, easily camouflaged in a cloudless sky. But their top feathers, resembling coats of black bear pelt, are doom incarnate. Another shiver of unease sweeps across my skin.
“They’ll eat anything that’s dead, sick or wounded, including humans.” He says it. And suddenly my belly feels as if it houses a dozen snakes, slithering over and under each other in a rolling wave of nausea.
“No one is dying here.” Andris’ deep voice is confident, still it doesn’t inspire me as it should.
“I hope they don’t know something we don’t.” Arnost jokes and shatters what little comfort his twin brother’s words instilled.
Rion’s smooth brow rumples in consternation, mirroring how I feel, and Killian grimaces in disgust. John and Sean remain stoic, but their frequent glimpses skyward divulge that they’re on edge.
Continually shading the sun and producing shadows that grow larger with every pass, the birds, along with Arnost’s comment, unsettle me. “The vultures seem to be circling lower and it’s freaking me out,” I admit. Perhaps it makes me a weak leader to acknowledge my fear, but if we’re about to meet our demise, if a predator—Urthmen or otherwise—awaits us and the birds instinctively know, then conceding fright is the least of my concerns.
“Me, too,” Sully says. “Let’s move a little faster.”
Everyone nods in agreement. We quicken our pace to a trot that hastens to a brisk jog. All the while though, the distinct sense of being watched persists. That sensation mushrooms when a piercing squawk trills through the air, causing my insides to start and my heartbeat to stutter. Shooting like a bolt of lightning, a vein of dread flashes through me. With trepidation, I stop and look to the sky.
Eclipsing the sun and slicing through the air with a mighty whoosh, a winged bird of prey breaks from its group and becomes visible. With a head and neck devoid of feathers, onyx eyes narrowed to lethal slashes, and a long, hooked beak ending at a razor-sharp point, it appears to be diving straight toward me. Broad, shoulder-like joints that lengthen to a wingspan that doubles my height carve the ether with deadly grace as it races headlong in my direction.
“Get down!” My words, though shouted, are absorbed by the hiss of air swishing around the vulture. I dive to the ground just in time to avoid being hit. But not everyone reacts as quickly as I did.
Cawing and spewing a vile stream from its beak, the vulture sprays Sean, who walked beside me, in his face. The bird passes, and Sean screams, clutching his eyes and rubbing. Only as he does, pieces of flesh fall from his skull as easily as clumps of snow melting from a treetop. “No! Oh gosh, no!” Sean’s cries echo with spine-tingling pain and panic. Whatever the beastly bird disgorged was corrosive, eating and burning away at Sean’s skin. His shrieks and agonized yelps do not last long, however, for the vulture loops back, returning with a shrill screech before its massive beak, opened wide, comes into view. It snaps shut around Sean’s neck. A sickening series of cracks and pops ensue before the bird disappears, leaving just Sean’s body behind.
Eyes wide and panting, my heart drills my ribs, yet my limbs are unmoving, as if they’ve taken root in the ground below. I lift my head and see that Rion is crouched, an arrow drawn from his quiver and his bowstring pulled taut. He releases the arrow and it fires through the atmosphere, stopping only when it lodges in the robust body of the vulture as it takes to the air once again. The bird screeches, releasing Sean’s head so that it tumbles to the ground with a sickly thud, and descends on Rion. Swooping, it grips him in its massive talons then climbs steeply, its body almost vertical as it soars toward the sun. Still fighting, Rion writhes and twists, stabbing at the bird’s undercarriage with an arrow until it releases him. Scythe-like claws, gnarled and knuckled, open wide and Rion falls, screaming as he plummets to the ground. He lands hard, his skull ricocheting off the stone pathway violently. His body lies still, dead.
Scrambling to a crouched position, my legs spring to life. I call out to Sully and run as fast as I can. Sully, Andris, Arnost, Killian and John do not hesitate. They’re beside me as I race, searching for shelter. But not long after our feet begin a rhythmic patter against the asphalt, a long and greasy shadow appears. Snuffing out the sun and as dark as nigh
t, another vulture rockets toward me.
Filling my lungs to steel myself, I stop, unsheathe my sword and spin just in time to come face to face with the predatory beast. I duck and raise my blade, dragging it along the bird’s body. Gore spills from the wound, falling all around me like rain. It releases a high-pitched cry that chills my blood as it tries to ascend. Instead of climbing heavenward, it crashes to the earth below.
Heaving short shallow breaths, my arms and legs tremble; adrenaline and pure fear humming through my veins. My lifeblood pounds through my body with such force, I worry it can’t be contained by my skin.
When another scream rings out, my quaking body twists in the direction of the sound. And what I see causes me to gag.
Two winged fiends have fallen from the sky and attack John. Each pulls an end of his body. One has a leg in its beak while the other has an arm. Alternating between tugging and pecking with their billhook machete beaks, his flesh begins to tear. They shake their heads, frenziedly devouring flesh and muscle, and feast on him right in front of us.
Fighting back the urge to vomit, I rush to the gruesome scene. Sully joins me, and as soon as I reach the bird closest to me, I lift my sword. Meat dangles from its bloodstained beak. Seeing me in the seconds before my blade slices the air, the vulture’s bill parts. Nasty bits fall and a scream so full it could pass for human spills from it. The clamor is silenced by a thwack when my sword meets with its neck. The vulture falls to its side, but I do not relent. I yank my blade from it and swing it again, hacking at the beast with all the pent up fury I feel.
In my periphery, I glimpse Sully toppling the other vulture. Distracted by John’s mangled body and the undoubtedly barbaric display I’ve provided, Sully is able to attack with his daggers. He kills the vulture easily. Both beasts lie on their sides in ruined heaps. Gulping a lungful of air, I back away from the remains. Killian releases a war cry and fires multiple arrows in quick succession. They whistle through the air and take down another, leaving only one flying in a circular pattern overhead. He loads another arrow into his bow and takes aim, then with laser point precision sends it speeding through the atmosphere. The arrow implants in the vulture’s head, and the bird hurtles to the earth.
After it hits the ground, silence arises. The gravity of the losses we’ve incurred shrouds us.
Three men died.
Three.
I’m sickened and saddened. Rion, Sean and John, alive just moments ago, are gone. My eyes survey what is now land littered with carnage and death. Waves of sorrow and frustration crash against me like breakers lapping a shoreline. My gaze zeroes in on the map John still clutches in his hand. I walk toward him then stoop and remove it from his grip. Tears well and blur my vision. “He came all this way just to die.” I stand and close my eyes, envisioning the pain and loss Sean and John endured when their entire village perished. It is a pain I know all too well. They fled for their lives and journeyed far to get here, to me. They made it all the way here, to the military base, and died before ever knowing whether all that he’d fought and risked their lives for was true. Icy tendrils of remorse spiral from my chest and down the length of my arms and legs. “I can’t believe it,” I hear myself mutter.
“It’s horrible, just so horrible.” I turn toward the sound of Sully’s voice. Unfocused eyes gaze at the massacre surrounding us.
At a loss for words to comfort him, I go to him and simply stand close so that our arms almost touch.
“Let’s get inside before more of those nasty things come,” Andris says and eyes the sky warily.
Bereaved and reeling from shock, I nod stiffly. Then, with my gaze continually glancing overhead and behind me, I follow as the remaining members of our team jog toward the rundown building. When we reach it and slow to a stop, I hand John and Sean’s map to Sully. He studies it for a moment then says “Over here,” before following a concrete path with bits of steel and branches strewn everywhere. The path leads to a metal door. Twisting the handle and shoving with his shoulder, the door swings inward with a long, slow moan. Each of us twist and look over our shoulder, inspecting the immediate vicinity for anyone or anything that may have heard. Satisfied that we’re not being pursued, we cross the threshold and step inside. Sully pulls a flashlight from his backpack and shines it in front of him. The thin beam reflects innumerable dust particles. Everything is covered in a layer of ashen grime. The air reflects the dust that clings to every surface. Thicker and laden with filth, my nostrils and throat begin to burn with each breath I take.
“This air reminds me of New Washington,” Sully says to just me.
He’s right. The level of pollution is similar to the area around the factories. I nod. “What’re we looking for exactly? Where’s the underground bunker?” I ask and feel my throat tighten, a cough coming on.
Sully draws a breath before he speaks but immediately begins hacking. When he manages to talk, his voice is raspy. “According to this,” he holds out the map, “it should be right over there.” He directs the beam of the flashlight to the far corner of the enormous room. The smoggy shaft of light skims overturned tables and chairs, shattered glass and shredded paper. But as my eyes follow it to its end, I see a raised metal circle.
Crossing the room and careful to navigate the labyrinth of rubbish, we reach the area where the metal circle sits. It looks as if at one time it was secluded, sheltered by walls that were destroyed by whatever attacked the building. Only one stands, a smooth, metal rectangle.
“There should be a control panel that opens the hatch.” Sully leans in, shining the light along the lone standing wall as he scrutinizes it.
Staring at the wall, I realize there’s a slightly raised section to it, one I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t looking at it so intently and under a beam of light. “Sully, do you see that?”
“See what?” His head swivels toward me.
“That,” I point to the portion of the wall that’s slightly higher than the rest.
A slow smile spreads across Sully’s face. “Bingo!” he says. “Avery, you’re a genius!”
“I am?” I wait for further explanation, but Sully is running his hand over the elevated section.
“Yes, you are. You found the control panel.” His words surprise me.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m not.” He slings his backpack forward and begins rifling through it until he retrieves a screwdriver.
“So this camouflaged rectangle is the control panel that opens the door to the arsenal?” I ask in disbelief.
“Well, technically it’s not a control panel.”
I screw up my features at him. “Wait, what? I thought you just said it was the control panel. Am I crazy or is that what you just said?”
Sliding me a sidelong glance as he depresses the hard, flat tip of the screwdriver along the edges of the rectangle, Sully explains. “It’s a false panel behind which the true mechanism to open the hatch exists. At least that’s what it says here.” He points to the map.
I shake my head as if to clear the cobwebs from it then marvel at how he determined this so quickly. Years have passed and no one ever found the arsenal. Urthmen have repopulated the planet yet never thought to examine military maps at length and rid humanity of any chance of happening upon them. And they certainly never would have unearthed the false panel.
“Wow,” I say, impressed by his sharp, methodical thinking, and at the general stupidity of the Urthmen.
Sully continues to work the screwdriver along the perimeter of the false panel until the paint coating it is stripped away. Then carefully, he wedges it deep and lifts the corner of one side. A plate is now visible and is in the process of being removed.
“Okay, from what I can see,” he continues extracting the metal section behind which a single lever sits, “the lid is vacuum sealed. And the only way to unseal it is with this lever.” Sully points to the small protrusion. “The military prepared for loss of power and attack. This lever is a defa
ult way of breaking the seal.” He lifts it and a rumble beneath our feet is followed by a loud popping sound. When the rumbling stops and the immense cloud of dust the shift caused settles, Sully looks to Andris and Arnost and says, “Okay, gentlemen, do your thing.”
And with his words, both men move to the lid and lift, setting it aside to reveal a lit tunnel.
“Amazing,” Sully whispers then he turns and begins descending ladder rungs that look as if they lead to the center of the earth.
“What’s with the lights? I thought the panel was out because of the lack of power.” Andris scratches his head and looks perplexed, which is exactly how I feel.
“There must be a solar panel nearby, hidden but still functional,” Sully replies, his voice echoing slightly. “Come on!”
Andris gestures for me to go first.
“What’s the matter, brother, worried about the tight space?” Arnost asks with a healthy dose of sarcasm dripping from his words.
“I’m being respectful of our leader.” Andris tips his chin defiantly.
“Of course you are,” Arnost agrees then adds, “and a baby.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“Boys!” I say sharply and both men go silent. They turn to look at me. “I think it’s a good idea for at least one of you to stay behind and keep watch, don’t you?” The word “yes” echoes three times. “Andris, you stay behind while the rest of us go down.”
Andris nods, his expression a blend of relief and gratitude. I know how he feels. Not a fan of tight spaces myself, the thought of lowering myself into the tube before me makes a cold sheen of sweat coat my skin. Still, I picture a world free of Urthmen, of June and Riley playing outside in the open without fear of attack, and descend to the first rung. I picture my sister’s face and focus on breathing in and out until my feet touch concrete. I turn and my breath catches in my chest.
Rows of metal shelving, as far as the eye can see, line a space that spans the length of the building. Upon the shelves are weapons. Long-barreled automatic guns are stacked neatly.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 13