The Starborn Saga (Books 1, 2, & 3) (13 page)

“Yeah.” The images in my mind are still so vivid. I remember watching every bit of the executions that day. I had run from the clutches of my grandma and hid away in one of my favorite spots in clear view of the trenches. One by one they dropped to the dirt after being shot in the head. There were some who resisted, but they only wanted to cling to the few precious hours they had left. That day, the hours were not granted to them. 

“What if I told you there might be a better way to protect your family?” he says.

“Is it something you can guarantee me right now? Is it something I can implement tomorrow?”

This makes Aaron stutter for a second. “Well, not exactly…”

“Then I don’t want to hear it. If you can tell me about a sure thing, then I’ll listen to you.”

“There’s no such thing as a sure thing when [e tme, it’sit comes to protection from the herds,” Aaron says. We’re both sitting up now, and I can feel the heat of frustration growing. 

“What do you have in mind then?” I know what he is referring to. I know he wants me to be on his side. I think back to the meeting I saw between Aaron and Heinrich.

“There are others,” he says. Just the phrase he used in his meeting. Part of me wants to tell him that I overheard him; that I know he doesn’t trust Heinrich to take control.

“People like you and me?” I ask. 

He nods slightly. “Yes. We’re called the Starborn.”

“You come up with that yourself?” I ask. 

“No,” he says. “I don’t know how long that specific term has been around, but we have been called some variation of that for thousands of years.”

Thousands of years?

“I’m not really at liberty to say much about it right now, but I wish you’d meet with our leader.”

“So, you have some sort of secret club?”

“Sort of,” he says. “But it’s important, and we need all the help we can get.”

This is when I stand. Aaron stands too. I’m sure he doesn’t know what I’m thinking, or maybe he does and he’s trying to play me somehow. With my family in mind, there’s no way I can join him against Jeremiah.  

“Listen,” he says. “I know you have to do what you have to do. Your family comes first. But could you promise me that when you’ve finished what you’re here to do that you’ll come back to Salem sometime? I want you to hear what my leader has to say.”

It’s an odd request – one that I wasn’t expecting. I thought he would ask me to hold off on my meeting with Jeremiah so he could show me his plan. But he knows I’m not going to back down. And to be honest, I’m so intrigued by these new supernatural powers that I would do just about anything to learn more about them. How could I not meet with his leader? How could I not seek out answers for what has been happening to me?

“It all depends,” I say. “I may travel back there, I may not.” He
looks at me with his enticing blue stare and dark eyebrows. “Will your leader be able to tell me why I have these abilities? What it all means?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll think about it,” I say. I turn and begin walking to the door. 

“Where are you going?” he asks. 

“Our meeting is early tomorrow. Jeremiah and I have a lot to discuss. I’d hate to sleep late and miss it.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The dreams of that terrible day still haunt me. I know I’m just having a nightmare, but this knowledge isn’t enough to pull me from my restless slumber. After it initially happened, I would have this same dream every night. After some time, every week. Now I have it at least every month. Tonight is one of the nights. 

The most terrifying part about this nightmare is that when I’m having it, it’s as if I’m experiencing it for the first time again. I always feel like I can change the outcome. I feel like I can do something different that might save them. But this nightmare always ends the same. It always plays out exactly as it did in real life. That is what is so terrible about it. It’s a constant reminder of something that I can never change. It’s a dream ^e tmeot that will never let me forget that my parents’ death was my fault.

Springhill has few defenses. At this point, there are only about three thousand of us left. Our village has been the target of so many greyskin attacks that it’s difficult to keep up with them. But this is the largest by far. We have a wall, but it’s not enough to keep them out. Within the hour, it’s broken down. Howard told us that this wall would do it. This wall would keep them out for sure. 

Since that day, I have never had faith in walls. I now believe that if greyskins really want to get in, they will eventually. Nothing can curb their appetite. 

The first alarms ring out a few minutes before dawn. By then, the greyskins have already broken through. People have already been bitten.

I jump out of my bed and look out the window of our house. It’s chaos in the streets. Gunfire, explosions, blades, blood. It’s all everywhere. 

My dad rushes into my room. Mom is behind him holding Jake by the hand. Dad hands me a shotgun. 

“We’ve got to get to the tree houses,” he says.

I nod, knowing what this means. It means going to the place where the women and children always go when there’s an attack. The tree houses are dotted all around the woods of Springhill. They are places of temporary safety away from the reach of the greyskins.

A sudden crash at our front door window tells us that it’s already too late to sneak out quietly. Despite my better judgment, I let out a scream. My knees and stomach feel weak at the sight of five or more rotting arms doing everything possible to get into our house. 

Dad runs to the front door and lets off three rounds through the shattered glass opening, blowing them away temporarily. He opens the door and fires at any more that are still flailing at our doorstep. He motions for us to follow him. Jake is crying, and I don’t know how Mom is keeping it all together. 

With Jake holding Mom’s hand, we follow Dad through the village toward the edge of the woods. Every now and again, Dad and I let off a round at an approaching greyskin. Some men are leading their families to the woods while others stay behind to defend against the onslaught of the hungry dead. 

The whole time, I can’t figure out why our village experiences so many attacks. It’s only been three months since our last one, although it was a much smaller herd that time.

It’s difficult to be wary while trying to block the images from my eyes. Neighbors. Friends. I see so many fall to the unrelenting force of the undead. I almost vomit at the sight of an older lady whose right arm is missing. There are bite marks all up and down her side. If her wounds don’t kill her, she’ll be dead within hours anyway.

Someone has released what little farm animals we have to try and help distract the greyskins from the people. It seems to only keep them busy for a few minutes. We follow my dad up the path through the woods. The closer tree houses are already filled to the brim with people. Some are even hanging onto the ladders, safely out of reach of the greyskins, but undeniably exposed. Even some of the men who usually stay behind to fight are huddled with their families. We keep moving past them and I can’t help but think of how my dad is going to want to stay behind and help once we are safe. I can’t let him this time.

Squealing and shrieks of terrified victims rip through the air. Gunshots boom in every direction. And the unmistakable gargling growls of the greyskins surround us. 

Dad bends down and tears out a hatchet from the skull of one of the greyskins, knowing that ammunition is precious. One of the greyskins moves in on us from the left and d che s from myad hurries to stand between it and the rest of us. His first swing clips it in the jaw, but it still staggers forward. His next swing lands in the middle of its brain, silencing its famished moans. 

We keep moving. 

Dad doesn’t stop until he hears Grandma calling out to us from the top of one of the tree houses. He looks at the rest of us and grabs Jake to put him on the ladder. Jake starts to climb slowly as Grandma reaches her arms for him, encouraging him to move.

I’m next. 

“You’re coming aren’t you, Dad?”

“In a bit, sweetie. Go.”

I swing the shotgun strap over my shoulder and begin to climb. When I get to the top, Grandma is holding a tearful Jake and rubbing his head. She reaches out a hand to me and squeezes. 

I see Mom kiss Dad. I know what this means. 

“No!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Dad, you’re coming up here!” It’s the largest herd any of us have ever seen around Springhill. There’s no way people should be on the ground fighting. At least, my dad shouldn’t be out there. He’s just going to die like the others.

Mom starts to climb and Dad just looks up at us with water in his eyes. Checking his ammo, he begins to walk away. 

“No!” I scream out again, and Mom reaches out to me and tries to cradle my head, but I push her away. “How could you just let him go? You’re going to let him die?”

“He’s going to help the others, sweetie,” she says to me, trying her best to maintain composure.

My tears are flowing freely, uncontrollably. I’m thirteen years old and not ready to lose my family to the ravenous dead. But I could never have been ready for today. No matter what age I was.

“You can’t just let him die like this! We can fight too.” I hold up the shotgun. 

I look around the tree house and see a few others with guns. “You all can fight!” I say. One woman looks at me. She’s trembling with a shotgun in her hands. She wouldn’t be able to hold a gun straight, so she’s no use. I duck under the branches as I walk to her and snatch the shotgun out of her hands. Next to her foot is a box of shotgun shells. I grab a handful and stuff them into my pants pockets. 

“Mora, what are you doing?” Mom asks me. 

“I’m not afraid,” I say, wiping away more tears with my shoulder. With both guns slung over my shoulders, I make my way to the ladder to climb down. Grandma and Mom protest, and Mom even grabs my shoulders, digging her fingernails into them. 

“You will not go!” she says to me. “This isn’t like the other attacks. This herd is bigger.” 

I jerk my shoulders away from her and begin my descent. I don’t care what others have to say about it. Dad has prepared me for days like this. He’s taught me how to shoot. I know where to aim. I’m not going to let him die like everyone else. This is the biggest herd to attack Springhill in a long time. The others need more people to help fight.  

“Mora!” Mom screams. 

I ignore her. 

She calls out my name several more times, but I’m already on the ground and sprinting toward the fight. 

Smoke fills the air and it’s difficult to breathe at first. Three greyskins come at me to my right, but it only takes two shots to stop their movements. 

The heaviest action is at the front of the village where the broken wall is in pieces now. When I reach this point, I am stopped in my tracks. I’m too stunned to even notice the greyskins com cgree theing at me. 

Bodies lay everywhere. Mangled. Torn. Pieces of my friends. Screams rip through the air. It feels like the end of the world. 

I shake my head. The greyskins are almost on top of me before I think to shoot two rounds through them. The shots don’t hit their brains, but they are immobilized, which is all I need.

I search everywhere for Dad, but I can’t see him. People barely notice me as I run through crowds of them, searching. I know he’s doing everything he can to protect us, but I’m only focused on protecting him. What good is preparing me for a day like this if I’m not allowed to help?

He couldn’t have gotten far. I keep running. I make several turns through the village streets, but he is nowhere to be found. 

I come to the edge of another wooded area, but I know that he wouldn’t have gone in there. I’ve moved too far. When I turn, there are at least seven greyskins on my trail. I instantly turn my shotgun on them, but it’s empty. I throw it to the ground and let off as many rounds as I can with the other. I spend all of the shells taking down the group that’s after me. But the repeated gunfire draws the attention of more. I see their heads turn toward me. To them, I’m an easy target. 

With shaky hands, I reach into my pockets and pull out as many shells as I can. I drop most of them on the ground, so I bend down and load the shotgun while on my knees. They both hold eight shells. 

There are at least six greyskins shuffling toward me. I get one shell in. Maybe eight greyskins now. I drop the second shell, and have to pick it up and try again. Maybe twelve greyskins have joined the group. I’ve got three – no, four shells in now.

Fifteen greyskins. 

The first gun is loaded. I reach for the other one on the ground. I’ve lost count of the greyskins, but I know I don’t have enough ammo. 

What am I still doing here? I should run. I can’t expect to take them all on. The second gun is loaded. I shoot into them and none of them go down. I’ve got to aim for their heads. I shoot, but the shot spreads so thinly that it doesn’t rupture their brains. I’ve got to wait until they’re closer. 

Why am I not running?

I think they’re close enough now, but this time I aim for the legs. I realize this works better as three fall. Not enough! I blast again and again. I’ve got no chance. I stand to run into the woods, but that’s when I hear more booms behind the greyskins. 

Some of them turn, but the ones that don’t, I take down myself. 

Dad. 

He charges through, firing as many shots as possible. He’s now out of ammo. Two more shots and I will be too. 

He uses the gun like a club to the side of a greyskin’s head, then throws it to the ground. He pulls out the hatchet and knife and goes in for close combat. The ones that aren’t as close to him, I take out with my last two shots. 

When they fall, I can see that there are at least a hundred more coming after us. But that’s not all I see.

My stomach lurches when I see Mom running from them toward us. 

“No,” I say to myself. “Why?”

Dad is chopping away. I want to help him, but I’ve got nothing to fight with. I stand to move in toward him, but he screams for me to stay back.