Sin City

by Jennifer Martucci

  “What about your hair?” Pike asks. Micah elbows Xan. They exchange surprised expressions. “Won’t they recognize it?”

  “Yeah,” Ara chimes in. “I’ve never seen an Urthman with hair.”

  Micah nudges Xan again. “Yeah, we want to hear about the hair part of the story on our long trip.” Xan bobs his head enthusiastically.

  Garan ignoring their comment, says, “Some of the Urthmen were wearing their uniform hats. I’ll just tuck my hair underneath.”

  “If you think that’ll work,” Aaron says skeptically.

  “I do. I’ll be right back.” Garan leaves us and heads out into the woods.

  As soon as he’s out of earshot, Xan says to Pike, “I can’t believe you mentioned the hair! I wanted to ask him about it so badly!”

  “Yeah, we talked about it. It’s really weird. He’s an Urthman with hair!” Micah gestures to his head animatedly.

  “I wondered about it, too. But I was more concerned about what he’d do with it since it makes him stand out almost as much as we would to the other Urthmen.” Pike shakes his head.

  Pike, Xan and Micah continue to chat for a few minutes, their conversation punctuated every now and then with a big laugh from Xan. He throws his head back as he laughs and grips his belly. It’s hard for me to focus on what’s being said or why Xan’s laughing so hard, though. All I can think of is how we’re going to pull off tricking the Urthmen and getting the fuel. And Sinsity. I stare at the floor of the truck worrying about the many things that could go wrong and lift my head when I hear Garan say, “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Startling at first, for a split second I don’t realize it’s Garan. With his hair tucked under the cap and the uniform on, he looks completely different. “Whoa,” Ara says, echoing my thoughts exactly.

  “What?” Garan asks her.

  “You look just like an Urthman soldier.” She shakes her head.

  “Oh.” Garan frowns slightly then brightens. “That works well for what I want to do, right?” Ara nods. “It sure does.” He looks at me. “Are we ready?”

  “I suppose,” I say.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” Garan claps his hands together.

  Pike, Ara, Reyna, Aaron, Xan, Micah and I file to the back of the truck. We find seats. I choose one beside Kai.

  “I don’t like this,” Micah says.

  I look over at him, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

  “We’re trusting an Urthman with our lives,” Kai says, his voice as smooth as heated honey.

  I turn my attention to Kai. Part of me wants to ask him whether we should just make Garan stop the truck and get out. To put a stop to this before anything can possibly happen. But the hope of Sinsity has bloomed. A well-defended, heavily populated city of humans coexisting with Urthmen peaceably, is too inviting to pass up. Hope has been what’s kept me going. What’s kept me alive. Unfortunately, it’s what almost got us killed staying at the human camp Jonah led us to. Neither I nor anyone else ever suspected Jonah of being a traitor. We won’t make that same mistake with Garan. We’ll assume he’s a traitor until he proves otherwise.

  I measure this notion as we roll along for nearly an hour. The sun is far lower in the sky, illuminating treetops that are beginning to transform. Greens are replaced with reds, oranges and yellows as the days grow shorter and falls lays claim to the landscape.

  “Everyone get down, okay.” Garan glances at us through the rearview mirror. “We’re pulling up to the gate.”

  My stomach feels like it’s filled with snakes, ceaselessly slithering over and under each other.

  I immediately crouch low, but keep my eyes up. Through the windshield, I can see we’re approaching a gate. Garan stops and rolls the window down.

  “Can I help you?” the Urthman at the gate asks.

  “I’m here to pick up fuel for General Hild,” Garan replies.

  The Urthman at the gate pauses. He lowers his eyes to a clipboard he holds, using a stubby finger to guide him down what must be a list of some sort. “I don’t have anything for Hild and I haven’t gotten a call or anything.”

  “General Hild doesn’t need to ask your permission! Now open the gate,” Garan snaps with enough arrogance and authority to evoke fear in the Urthman at the gate.

  Fumbling with his clipboard then smoothing his shirt nervously. The Urthman looks at the patches and medals over the left breast pocket of Garan’s uniform. He immediately drops his gaze and keeps his eyes low when he says, “Yes, of-of course, Captain.”

  “That’s right, I’m a Captain,” Garan hisses. “You have the nerve to question an officer!”

  “N-no, sir,” the guard at the gate replies.

  “General Hild will hear about this. Make no mistake!” Garan barks.

  “No, please!” The tremor in the Urthman’s voice is unmistakable. He immediately opens the gate and waves our truck through. Garan parks and gets out. Four other uniformed Urthmen approach. They salute Garan.

  “I need thirteen barrels of gasoline and two cases of dried beef,” Garan says authoritatively.

  “Yes, sir,” one replies then immediately the four of them scramble toward a door. Garan follows.

  “Where are they going?” I mumble.

  “I don’t like this. Not one bit,” Xan whispers.

  “If they call this in, we’re dead.” I stare at the door, expecting at any minute that a torrent of Urthmen will come rushing out.

  “Or it’s a setup,” Xan pipes.

  “Shh!” I raise my head a bit, chancing a closer look. “Garan must’ve went in so they wouldn’t call.” I hope that’s why he went in. Beads of sweat break out on my forehead as I entertain the many ways he could double-cross us. They are numerous. Several agonizingly tense minutes pass and I realize my hands are clenched to fists so tight my nails bite into the palms of my hands. Unable to take the wait any longer, I stand slowly and risk a look out the back window. I see Urthmen bringing barrels. The barrels are positioned on platforms. Beneath the platform are wheels. All parts are connected by a ladder-like structure of metal that ends as handles the Urthmen use to push the load along. “They’re bringing it.” I wonder whether my tone mirrors the surprise I feel that it’s actually happening. Easily. Garan’s plan worked. And he didn’t betray us.

  I hear a commotion beyond the doors. I scurry to my seat and bend down, ducking my head as low as I can. “Leave them. I’ll take care of it from here,” I hear Garan order.

  “Sir, please, we’ll load it,” a voice replies.

  “I said leave it!” Garan commands with far too much heat. I’m sure that even to the Urthmen, his reaction caused alarm. So when the doors open and Garan says, “Quick! Grab them! We don’t have much time!” I realize a call will be made to confirm the gasoline barrels were ordered by General Hild. Not wanting the Urthmen to load them was far too suspicious.

  Without a word, everyone jumps out of the back of the truck, gripping the side of a barrel, two of us to one barrel in some cases, and we load them in. Garan grabs a chain hanging in the rear of the truck and a lock beside it. He loads a barrel in but is forced to stop when a voice rings out, scraping like metal against metal. “Humans!”

  Garan reappears, racing full-speed to the truck. He slides in behind the steering wheel, jams the gearshift in to reverse and backs out the open gate. Just beyond the gate, however, Garan stomps on the brake.

  “What’re you doing? Why’re you stopping?” I scream. But he leaves too quickly. I dash to the front of the truck and am about to take the driver’s seat when I see him close the gate. He wraps the chain around both, connecting the two, and loops the lock through. He sprints back to the truck and we drive off.

  I turn in my seat. A truck is on the other side of the now-locked gate. The Urthman driving has jammed on the breaks just before it. He and the others with him exit the vehicle and shout to one another, flailing their arms wildly. “They’ve stopped.”

&nbs
p; “Yep.” Garan glances in the rearview mirror and smiles.

  “If they drive that big truck into the gate won’t the chain just…break?” I ask.

  “Of course it would.” Garan twists to look at me.

  Laughter erupts in the truck. He’s right. The Urthmen could easily drive their truck through the chained fence and chase us. They may even have a vehicle capable of catching us. But we’ll never know, and neither will they. Mindless creatures. Xan’s words come to mind. I guess he was right, too. A smile stretches across my face, one so broad and genuine my cheeks begin to ache. We have enough fuel to make it to Sinsity. Hope is not dead. It’s very much alive and well and represented by a chorus of laughter in this truck.

  Chapter 6

  Garan stomps down on the gas pedal and the truck picks up speed. Within moments, the steady hum of tires passing over pavement fills the space around me. I don’t need to ask why he’s driving so fast. As close as we are to the arena and certain the Urthmen called in our trip to the fuel outpost, anything less than speeding would be foolish.

  I check the side view mirror every few seconds, each time expecting to see a vehicle barreling toward us. “Aaron,” I call out over my shoulder. “Are any of the vehicles at the Task Center faster than this?” I turn and find him. His eyes meet mine before they scan our group. In those seconds, I’m sure of what his answer will be. The truck we’re in seats all of us comfortably. It also has several storage compartments, as well as a large area beyond the seats, separated by a lip of metal that acts as a barrier, to stow supplies. In this case, we’re stowing barrels of gasoline.

  Aaron clears his throat. “Yes,” he answers as he stares at his lap.

  His single-word answer, though I was expecting it, fills me with dread. “Will they catch us?”

  Aaron lifts his gaze so that it meets mine. He raises both shoulders then drops them. “There are a few cars that’re much faster.” His tone borders on resigned. “This truck is heavy. Slower.” He pauses. “They could catch up to us for sure.”

  I allow his words to settle over me. Eyes cast to the floor but still turned in my seat so that I face everyone in back, I mull them over briefly. Then a thought occurs to me. Perhaps they can catch up with us. But however many seats they have in their smaller, faster vehicle, we have more. We’d out number them. I lift my gaze and focus it on Aaron. “So what?” I hear myself say and feel the full might of the defiance I’m feeling brim. “So what if some cars with only a few Urthmen in them catch us? We can get out and kill them with ease.”

  From the rear, Xan pumps his fist. “That’s right! Let ‘em come! We’ll take ‘em out and keep going!”

  “Yeah we will!” Micah agrees.

  “They could shoot out our tires with arrows until trucks filled with more Urthmen arrive,” Garan adds.

  Garan’s comment silences Xan and Micah. Mumbled grumblings are all I hear from them. Among the words that are barely audible, I think I hear “true” and “he would know how they think, he’s an Urthman.” I glance at Garan quickly to see if he heard them, too. His focus is on the road ahead and his expression hasn’t changed. If he heard them, he’s hiding it well. “That’s a good point. I didn’t think of that,” I tell him. He slides me a look and nods. I reposition myself so that I face forward once again. I stare out the windshield. If the Urthmen catch up with us and shoot out our tires as Garan suggest they will, what then? We’ll be killed in the street? Or we’ll be returned the arena, the very place I vowed to keep Pike and Ara from. Waves of panic diffuse through my chest, spreading out and down my limbs in icy webs. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. There has to be another way. I steal another look in the side view mirror. Pavement stretches out behind us. As of now we’re the only vehicle on the road. I allow myself to fleetingly think that maybe they aren’t coming for us. But as soon as the words take form in my mind, I know they’re an impossibility. The Urthmen saw us. They saw humans. By virtue of that fact, they will come for us. They have to. It’s as if the need to kill us is woven into the very fabric of their beings. It seems as though hunting and killing us, whether on the spot or in the arena at their command and for their amusement, is as natural as breathing to them. A shiver travels the length of my spine at that probability. I try to shake the image, try to rid my mind of the savagery I’ve witnessed. But every time I blink, it’s there. I try to focus of the pavement, on the faded yellow line so faint I have to strain to see it. I look at the leaves. To the brighter colors replacing the rich greens. As I do, I’m struck with another idea. “Pike!” I call out. I turn to face my brother. He clips his chin in acknowledgement. “There are weapons back there, right?”

  “Yeah, there are a few,” he replies.

  “Are there any axes?” I’m on my feet about to see for myself, but Pike, closer to the weapon rack, stands and checks.

  “We have three.” Pike turns away from the rack and searches my face for answers.

  “Why are you so concerned with axes all of a sudden?” Garan asks.

  I ignore his question for the moment. “Are there any other roads they could be using to follow us? Parallel to this maybe or close by?”

  Garan thinks. “No. This is it. This is the only one for the next twenty miles or so. Why? And you still didn’t answer about the axes?”

  “Okay,” I say to myself more than him. Studying the tree-lined road, I spot a particularly large one ahead. Pointing to it, I say, “That one there! Stop the truck at that tree.”

  “What? Why?” Garan’s head whips around, his long cords of hair only partially obscuring a face riddled with concern. Within seconds however, what I intend to do gels. “The axes. The tree,” Garan mutters. “You want to cut it down and block the road!”

  “Exactly.” I lock eyes with him.

  “Clever.” He nods and guides the truck, slowing it to a stop just past the tree.

  “Why are we stopping?” Xan demands. “What’s going on?”

  “Pike, grab the axes!” I head to the rear of the truck. “We’re taking down a tree to block the road,” I tell Xan as I rush past him.

  Everyone jumps out and heads to the tree. The trunk isn’t terribly thick and the bark is peeling in some places but it soars, higher than the ones around it. Pike hands me an axe. He keeps one and Xan grabs the other. We begin hacking at the tree.

  The ax is heavy in my hands as I swing it again and again, angling the blade downward slightly. “We need to work the area that faces the road most. And do it at an angel. It needs to fall into the road or all this is for nothing,” I say between breaths and chops.

  Chips of bark and wood splinter, pelting us with each strike. The muscles in my arms, chest and back complain and my stomach growls. Sweat gathers between my shoulder blades, trickling to my waist. My throat burns from thirst. My breaths are labored. But I don’t stop.

  I hear small grunts from Pike with each swing that sticks into the trunk. His breathing is heavy and bands of color streak his cheeks. “Micah, take a turn for Pike!”

  Micah obliges. He immediately starts chopping.

  Stopping for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, Xan pants. “This is taking too long.”

  “Xan, I can take over for you,” Aaron offers. “Take a break.” He moves to grip the handle.

  “I don’t think so,” Xan replies and starts swinging again. “No offense, but you worked in the Task Center. I don’t think this is your kind of work.” He huffs and grunts through his words.

  “Chopping down a tree is strenuous, but I’ve done hard work before.” Aaron folds his arms across his chest.

  “I’m sure. But we’re kind of in a hurry here.” Xan smiles.

  “You’re right. We are and they’re going to be on us any minute now.” The bass of Kai’s voice rolls as he approaches, limping. “Give me that ax and move over.” He doesn’t wait for Xan to hand it over. With one large hand that could easily palm Xan’s head, he plucks from him. Though soft spoken and levelheaded, Kai i
s intimidating, nevertheless. Tall and hulking, he’s a mountain of a man. Seeing him at first, I wondered why he wasn’t the Champion in the arena. I wondered why it was Cas—why it would be anyone—except Kai. Then I met him. And it all made sense. Kai, though stronger, faster and by far more physically capable, lacked the mentality necessary to be the Champion. He lacked the killer instinct. He lacked the need for attention and glory. All of which made me like him immediately.

  “Kai, you’ve been shot,” I try to protest.

  “In my leg.” He swings the ax in a wide arc. The impact of the blade sinking into the trunk sends wood chips flying, leaves scattering. It also leaves a considerable dent. “I wasn’t shot in either of my arms.” He chops again, his enormous frame and thick, solid muscles powering each swing. He manages to cause more damage with his two swings than all us combined. “Which works out well because I can’t sit by and not help.” He takes two more solid hits. A considerable chunk is missing from the trunk.

  Chatter breaks out as everyone around Kai comments on his strength. But between awe-filled remarks, a sound can be heard. Distant at first, it grows nearer.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Conversation stops. All that remains is the rhythmic thwack of Kai’s ax hitting the tree.

  “Do you hear that? The hum?” I look from face to face.

  Aaron stills, freezing where he stands, and listens. “It’s a car. Headed here fast.”

  Though I feel the color drain from my face, I knew the faint drone I heard was the whine of an engine.

  “The Urthmen are here.” Ara’s eye’s link with mine. “Come on! We have to go!” she grips my upper arm and pulls.

  Reyna, looking at me over Ara’s head, pleads with me with her eyes.

  “Let’s go. Everyone in the truck,” I say.

  Kai hears us, but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look up. Swinging harder and faster than I ever thought possible, his intensity picks up. Sweat drips from his brow and dampens his shirt.

  “C’mon Kai. Let’s go,” Aaron says. Kai continues hacking away at the trunk. “There’s no time!” Aaron cries.