9. Vesper
VESPER
“Is this at least a good direction to go in?” I ask Cipher after the scenery doesn’t change.
We’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes.
The sounds of the monsters are still loud above us, whatever they are screeching in what sounds like anger.
I don’t have any desire to face it, not when we haven’t got anything to defend ourselves with.
I check my inventory as I move. A stick, a jacket, and some of those mint leaves. None of that is a weapon.
“Define good,” Cipher responds.
I grit my teeth against the frugality of that question. “You mother—,” I take a deep breath. “Does this direction give us the best chances of survival?” I ask, rephrasing my question.
Cipher takes a moment. “You have a sixty-three percent chance of survival in this direction.”
I wince. “That’s . . . not very high.”
“If you go the opposite direction, your chances are twenty-four percent.”
I glance at Locke. “Sixty-four percent chance versus twenty-nine percent chance of survival.”
Locke rolls his eyes. “If I relied on statistics to survive, I’d already be dead. Don’t need ‘em, so it’s your call.”
“That is why he will not make it out of the Harrow,” Cipher informs me. “Statistics should always be considered. Even when they seem inconsequential.”
Taking a deep breath, I pick up my pace again. “We go toward the sixty-four percent chance. Seems like the best option when we haven’t leveled up and we have no weapons.”
“Fair,” Locke nods. “Then let’s pick up—”
The screech is so loud, both of us duck.
The closest I’ve ever heard something sound like that is the screeching of metal back in Dross when a building was falling.
But even that doesn’t come close to the malice in this sound.
I whirl, searching for the source, certain that something is a second away from attacking us.
Instead, I find . . . a single creature.
“What in the Harrow in that thing?” Locke whispers, staring at it with wide eyes, both of us desperately reaching for a weapon we don’t have.
The creature has shaggy red fur, but its rounded face and small ears are black.
Two large black eyes watch us curiously as it balances on a thick branch.
It’s hunched over, two very long arms curled up in front of it while a long, thick tail twists around the branch.
The shaggy red fur sits around that face in a burst pattern, giving it a mane.
“It’s almost . . . cute,” I whisper back, frowning. “Is that what made the noise?”
The creature shifts, shaking the branch. As it moves, the tail holds fast, as if it’s used as another limb.
“I suggest you run,” Cipher says in my mind.
“Why?” I breathe. “It’s not attacking us.”
Cipher chuckles. “Vespera, that is a howler monkey.”
“What’s a howler monkey?” I ask.
The description window pops up helpfully.
Howler Monkey
Primate, chaotic
“One is not much danger, no. But howler monkeys travel as a troop,” Cipher continues. “And they are very territorial.”
My breath rattles. “What does that mean?”
Cipher doesn’t have to answer. The creature opens its mouth and a deep, guttural growl echoes from its throat.
Its mouth opens wider and it transforms into a high-pitched howl that makes me flinch.
It hoots and hollers, the sound echoing so loud, it makes my ears hurt. And then Cipher’s words make sense.
Because the sound is answered by another. And another. And another.
My eyes trail up, and I start to see them now that I’m looking. They’d blended in before. Now I can see that the creature isn’t alone.
They’re all the same color, shaded because of the canopy.
They perch on branches all throughout the trees, watching us, screeching.
They start bouncing on their perches, getting louder, calling back and forth to each other, riling each other up.
I tense, trying to count how many we’re going to have to fight, but just when I think I’ve seen them all, more appear of out of the shadows.
Some of them swing in on the trees, those long arms gripping the branches as they swing smoothly in to join their friends.
My hand reaches to my hip on instinct, but I know my knife isn’t there. The stick in my inventory won’t do any good against so many. We are well and truly fucked.
“Run, Vespera,” Cipher breathes in my mind. “Run. Now.”
I don’t question him any further. I spin on my heel and start to run.
Locke follows my lead, matching my pace almost immediately.
The moment we move, the deep, guttural howls behind us rise and surround us.
I glance to my left and see the howler monkeys swinging from the branches, their long arms allowing them to keep pace with us easily.
It’s like they’re not even trying. Their large teeth shine in the beams of sunlight, stained with rust as they bare them at us while they scream.
Fuck. So, this is how I die? By some long-armed fuzzy monsters?
“Faster!” Locke urges. “We’ve gotta go faster!”
I’ve spent my life running in Dross. Running from gangs. Running from people. Running from death. The Harrow is no different. It’s just greener and brighter. But the danger is there still. I’d forgotten that. I should have run the moment Cipher told me to.
“Duck. Now,” Cipher commands.
I do exactly as he says, ducking and dragging Locke down with me. He hadn’t given him the same warning I realize when he makes a sound of surprise. One of the creatures swipes over our heads, reaching for something to grab onto to. The moment it’s past, we spring back up and start running again.
I’m fast, but between me and Dox, she was always the faster one. I’m built for standing my ground. Dox was the one built for running. Locke is faster than me, but he doesn’t leave me behind.
“Three hundred meters,” Cipher says, “until brief safety.”
Another howler monkey swings at me and I don’t duck in time.
It’s hand latches onto my hair and rips me to a stop, forcing a scream from my throat as my scalp bears the brunt of the pain.
Locke swings at the creature, hitting it square in the face with his fist, making it growl in rage.
But it does what we hope. It releases my hair.
We sprint again, making it maybe a hundred meters before one of the creatures tackles Locke from behind.
He goes down, rolling in the undergrowth, fighting the creature for the upper hand.
I beat at it with my fists, but it’s too strong.
It doesn’t seem to care about me and the other creatures are circling, rushing forward and back, hurting my ears with their guttural howls.
The creature Locke fights with gets ahold of his shoulder and bites down with those gruesome teeth and he screams in pain.
I fall to my knees when another howler monkey slams into me, knocking me off my feet.
My hand lands on something sharp, something hard.
As the howler monkey beats at my back, I curl my fingers around it, realizing what it is.
A rock. When the howler monkey tries to bite me, I swing it up, catching the primate in the face.
It scrambles away, giving me just enough time to slam the rock against the one attacking Locke.
It doesn’t release him, so I swing it again, and again.
The howler monkeys above us scream and howl in anger and I scream right along with them as I beat the monkey until it grows limp, until my hands are covered in blood, until it crumples and slides off Locke.
I don’t have time to breathe a sigh of relief.
Locke drags me to my feet, his hand on my wrist as we start to run again.
The howler monkeys swing through the trees around us, rush through the undergrowth, grabbing at our clothes, our feet, my hair, trying to stop us.
They slam into us, trying to knock us off our feet again, but we manage to stay up.
“Fifty meters,” Cipher says. “Faster.”
I’m panting so hard, my heartbeat echoes in my ears. My chest feels as if it’s going to split open. I run as hard as I can, Locke beside me, as we rush toward yet more trees. I don’t understand how that’s safety, but Cipher hasn’t lied to me yet.
“Dive!” Cipher orders.
This time, he tells the both of us. We both dive forward into what looks like just more plants and trees.
I hit the ground and roll, my shoulder screaming at the sudden impact.
I turn and scramble backward as the howler monkeys come storming up.
I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing to be overtaken by them . . .
. . . nothing happens.
I peek open my eyes and see the howler monkeys all stopped, as if there’s an invisible wall. They bounce and scream, howling at us as if we’ve thwarted them somehow.
“What . . .” I pant, trying desperately to catch my breath.
NEW ZONE UNLOCKED: welcome to the Secret Abyss
“You are now in the Secret Abyss,” Cipher repeats. “That particular troop is part of the Whispering Canopies, which is a different zone.”
“So, they . . . can’t . . . cross over?” I ask, still breathless.
“Thay cannot,” Cipher says.
Locke groans. “My fuckin’ shoulder,” he grunts, reaching for the bite. “I can’t see it. Is it bad?”
He turns and I get a good look at the sizeable bite there.
It’s red and bleeding, and it does look pretty fucking bad.
Purple is starting to spread outward where the thing had clamped down on him.
It’s a bad wound, and in Dross, it would be a death sentence.
At least we won’t have to worry about disease here, but Locke is going to feel like he was hit by a falling building soon.
“Just a scratch,” I tell him, wincing. “Maybe we can find something to heal it so it doesn’t hurt. Maybe another plant?”
Locke meets my eyes and I can tell he understands it’s not a scratch at all. “I can’t wrap it, not being on my shoulder like it is. We don’t have enough material.”