by Shade Owens
“I hope you plan on checking those every night,” Rocket had said, eyeing me curiously as I dragged a handful of leaves at a time into the Village. “Bugs like leaves. Just sayin’.”
But that night, after having been ambushed by the women in masks, the last thing I wanted to do was rummage through piles of leaves in search of a critter. I hadn’t spotted one in days, and I was willing to take my chances. I dropped heavily onto my side, appreciating the cool beneath me.
For the first time since I’d been dropped onto the island, I felt a hopelessness overshadow my state of surrealism—my need to believe that Kormace Island was nothing more than a nightmare.
The reality of my situation had somehow been triggered, if not amplified, by my attack. I thought of my mother, and I could only pray she was okay. She’d endured so much. Would she try anything stupid? Would I return from Kormace only to find her name listed in the obituaries?
I thought of my body and how filthy and rugged it had become. I wondered if I would return home damaged and scarred, both physically and psychologically. Would I even survive my sentence? It was apparent that war was unfolding, and for all I knew, I could go to sleep one night and wake up to my throat being slit by a Norther.
Then, I thought of the life of comfort I’d once had—sleeping on a pillow-top bed and my down-filled pillows; sitting on our ancient, yet comfortable fabric sofa with a bowl of hot buttery popcorn; having the option to either warm or cool the apartment at any given moment; making a warm cup of coffee in the morning; wearing clean clothes every day; being smoothly shaven. My throat swelled, and I felt something I hadn’t felt since being sentenced to Kormace Island—tears. At first, the warm droplets trickled down the sides of my cheeks, but this sadness was quickly overpowered by grief, and with grief came uncontrollable sobbing.
The feeling was so intense that I felt my heart clench every surrounding muscle and my throat swell to the point of causing labored breathing. The crying resulted in a migraine, which brought forth yet another realization—my inability to obtain medication. This would also prove to be a challenge on this island. I couldn’t just pop a few Tylenol to ease the pain or swallow some antacid liquid when I felt nauseated. And then I realized… As a woman, I had monthly visits. How were the Islanders dealing with this? Had they found a way to make tampons?
How was anyone supposed to be prepared for this? I would have rather gone to prison.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking? I pulled one of my giant leaves closer to my chest, holding onto it as I’d once done every night with my fluffy pillow. The effect wasn’t quite the same—the leaf was cool and thin—but it was better than nothing.
All I could do was hope for a better tomorrow.
CHAPTER 7
I didn’t need a mirror to know my eyes were all pink and puffy when I woke up the next morning. I’d cried myself to sleep, which, ever since I was a little girl, had always resulted in my eyes swelling to an embarrassing grapefruit pink.
I avoided eye contact with as many women as possible on my way to breakfast, not wanting to be ridiculed or viewed at as weak. I followed the line to the fire pit with my head low. When it was my turn to be served, I extended my bowl, careful not to glance up.
“One scoop, or two?” Sumi asked.
I glanced up. She’d never cared about me or about what I wanted to eat. Why the change of heart? I hesitated.
“Two.”
“You get one.” She scooped a spoonful of slimy egg into my bowl then turned to her followers and said, “Told ya she was hiding somethin’. Looks like the city girl finally broke.” Laughter erupted all around me, and I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
“Lookin’ a little pink there, Brone.”
“Stace owes me three pearls. I bet two weeks, she bet one.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, kid.”
“I’ll take care o’ ya, babe.”
“Fuck off, Nym. The girl’s mine.”
Why was everyone talking to me? I tried to move past them, but I was trapped. There were distorted faces all around me—some smiling, others grimacing. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I was pulled out of the crowd.
“Don’t mind them,” Flander said, flicking her wrist, “ain’t like they got nothin’ better to do.”
“Did I miss something?” I asked. “My eyes are swollen… So what?”
“Just a game the women play,” she said. “Every time there’s a new drop, everyone bets on how long it’ll take before the girl finally realizes how shitty her life is and finally breaks down for the first time. Don’t always come quick, ya know. Took me four weeks when I first got ’ere. Think it’s the shock… Nothing feels real at first, ya know?”
I nodded slowly. I definitely knew. I couldn’t understand how these women purposely went out of their way to find amusement in someone else’s misery. I couldn’t imagine myself betting on a drop.
“Case you’re wonderin’,” Flander said, “the average is two weeks.”
I smirked, even though I didn’t find this funny. “So, I’m the average, then.”
She smacked me on the shoulder and laughed. “Eat up, buttercup. We’re goin’ fishing today.”
* * *
“I feel sorry for you,” Rocket said, leaning in.
We were exiting the Working Grounds, with bows and spears in hand, on our way to the western shoreline.
I turned around to catch dozens of women with their eyes glued to me. They were smiling at me, but not in a genuine way. There was a thirst in their eyes—a sexual, predatory lust. I swallowed hard.
Rocket shook her head. “You’re fair game now, Brone.”
“Because I cried?” I asked, even though all I’d wanted to do was scream. Was I not allowed to cry? How juvenile were these women?
“Just the way things work around here,” Rocket said. “You’re not available until you break, ’cause once you break, it means you’re one of us. Those are the rules. So most women won’t even look at you until that happens. But now, in their eyes, you’re fresh meat.”
“But I’m not a lesbian…” I whispered.
Trim and Fisher, who must have been listening in on our entire conversation, burst out laughing up ahead of us.
“You are now,” Fisher said, glancing back at me.
What was that supposed to mean?
Rocket must have noticed the look of disgust on my face because she nudged me in the shoulder and said, “Happens to guys too, you know… in prison. I miss a good fuck like any other woman here, but all we got’s each other. You learn to like it”—she winked at me—“sometimes more than you thought you did.”
I felt my face warm. I’d only ever had sex a handful of times at the age of sixteen with my boyfriend, and to be quite frank, it was everything my mother had told me it would be—painful and awkward. The last thing on my mind on Kormace Island was sex.
“This way,” Trim ordered.
I saw a break of white in between the trees up ahead, and as we moved closer, I realized that the light was in fact not light at all—it was sand. We stepped out into the opening, and I was nearly blinded by how bright everything was. The sand was white as snow, and I could see it even through the ocean water.
“Welcome to the western shoreline,” Biggie said, tapping me on the back so hard I nearly fell forward.
“Why couldn’t they have dropped me off here?” I asked, but all I received in return was laughter.
I’d never travelled before, but the scenery before me could have been mistaken for a picture found on the cover of a travel magazine. A true paradise. A cool mist floated over the beach, sprinkling onto my chest and face. I listened to the sound of waves crashing on the tide and the sound of birds chirping as they flew in circular motions above the water.
It was a bit overwhelming, if not frightening, to gaze out into open water. The horizon was flat with not one hint of land in sight. I couldn’t imagine how far we were from civilization. Were there other islands like Kormace? Other fe
lons sentenced to the same fate?
“Brone, come on,” I heard.
I glanced up to spot Trim walking into the ocean completely naked. Fisher quickly pulled off her top, revealing small but rounded breasts and a set of abs you’d expect to see on a man. The others quickly followed, tossing their leather garments onto the bed of sand and running wildly into the foamy water.
“Come on, Brone!”
I stared into the open water—at Trim, whose head was visible, but nothing else; at Biggie, who stomped her way into the water, her body jiggling at every step; at Fisher, who dove headfirst into the deep; at Rocket, who playfully lunged toward Flander; and finally, at Flander, who cursed as she fell backward, submerging herself entirely into the water.
Did they really expect me to join them? Naked? I awkwardly tugged at the bottom corner of my hand-sewn leather top.
“It’s just skin!”
“No one here but us, Brone!”
I’d always been the type of girl to shy away in one of the enclosed changing rooms after gym class while all the other girls dressed and undressed around one another, gossiping about boys or about the newest sugar-free salad dressing available at the store. I’d always been so self-conscious of my body, even though I weighed a measly one hundred and fifteen pounds and I’d been gifted with a naturally muscular build.
It’s just skin, I repeated in my head. I knew I had to get over myself. Life just wasn’t the same anymore, and it wouldn’t be for a very long time. I’d be hairy and filthy, and I’d smell of sour sweat and salt for the next few years. There was no use trying to maintain appearances or impress anyone for that matter. We were all living life on Kormace Island for the sole purpose of existing, of surviving—not for pleasantries.
With this new outlook in mind, I slid my top over my head, slipped out of my bottoms, and removed my brown cruddy sneakers, before running full force into the open water.
Although captive on a remote island, I felt liberated for the first time in my life.
“Wooooo!” Rocket slapped a handful of water at my face.
I splashed back, forgetting the island’s brutality and the savagery just long enough to relish something I hadn’t experienced for quite some time—fun.
But it wasn’t long before Trim stepped out of the water and ordered us to do the same. I slid my clothes back on, covering my skin in a grainy layer of wet sand and fastened my quiver and bow onto my back.
“Here,” Trim said, tossing a fishing spear to me.
To my surprise, I actually caught it.
“Time to fish,” she said.
The others were handed their spears, and together, we moved along the shoreline toward what appeared to be a small bay bordered by heavy rocks and darkened sand.
Trim was the first to step up onto one of the rocks and stab her spear into the water. She pulled back, revealing a large blue-tailed fish that flapped from side to side.
“And that’s how it’s done.” She smirked, pulled the fish off the sharpened point of her spear, and tossed it into the sand beside my feet.
“Show off,” Rocket muttered.
We circled the bay, stepping up onto the stones, and I gazed into the water, admiring the multitude of shapes and colors moving swiftly below us. Spears started piercing the water, and the fish moved about frantically. I just stood there with my spear gripped in both hands.
“Come on, Brone, help us out,” Biggie said, wiping sweat from the tops of her eyebrows.
“Ain’t rocket science,” Flander said.
“I don’t see you catching anything, Flander.” Fisher laughed then swung down hard and tore a silver, yellow-backed fish from the water. “My favorite.”
I pointed the sharp end of my spear toward the water. I’d been about to jab downward when I heard it—a high-pitched whistling that skimmed the lobe of my ear. I quickly glanced back to find a broken arrow lying at the base of a massive boulder.
“Retreat!” Trim shouted.
Another arrow came flying out from distant trees, followed by another and another. Trim ran in the opposite direction toward the jungle, lunging over fallen tree trunks and fish carcasses. I kept up, fueled by adrenaline and survival instincts.
Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t know what was going on.
We ran into the thick of the jungle, plowing our way through heavy verdure.
Trim led us south, away from the shoreline and away from our attackers.
“Trim!” Fisher hissed.
Trim turned around.
“I think we lost them.” Fisher bent over, hands on her knees, fighting to catch her breath.
There was a moment of silence, before Trim’s eyes met all of ours. “Stay on guard.” Her eyes quickly shot down at my neck. “They got you.”
Confused, I reached up, and with the tips of my fingers, grazed over the skin of my neck, only to feel the lumpiness of the cut I’d been given the night before—the one I’d forgotten to clean.
“Oh,” I said. “Barely.”
I wasn’t prepared to tell any of them the truth. I couldn’t trust anyone.
“Anyone else?” Trim asked.
“We’re okay,” Fisher said. Everyone nodded in unison.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Fucking Northers,” Rocket growled. She pressed the skin of her thumb into the point of her spear, and I could tell all she wanted to do was kill someone.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“The arrows. That’s their specialty. And, well, they came from the North,” Rocket said.
“Did anyone see anything?” Trim asked.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Didn’t ’ave time,” Flander said, scratching the top of her gray-haired head.
“Guys…”
“The fuck are they doing on the western shoreline?” Fisher asked.
“Guys…”
Trim sighed and shook her head. “I don’t fucking know. This is the second attack in broad daylight.”
“Yeah, and they’re trying to start a full-blown war. They won’t stop until they kill us all.” Fisher clenched both fists and turned in circles like a shark in water.
“Can’t we go after them?” I asked even though violence was the last thing I wanted. “I mean… hit them before they hit us again.”
“Guys…”
“Murk won’t allow it,” Trim said. “She doesn’t want war, and she can’t risk losing us or any of her people.”
“We’re already at war!” Rocket said.
“Guys!”
In unison, everyone turned toward Biggie, who’d been attempting to capture our attention. “Stop talking.” Her eyes were as round as golf balls, and her lips were curved downward as if she’d seen a ghost.
And in that moment, it was as if our surroundings instantly came into focus—as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a gruesome reality. There were strings of teeth dangling from tree branches all around us, some of which were large canines, but most of which were flat and obviously human.
There were fragmented pieces of skull and bone scattered across the earth beneath our feet, around which tall wooden torches were stabbed into the ground. The candles had melted entirely, and their leftover wax formed crooked, drooping lips.
There was something eerie about this place; it was as if life itself did not exist. For a moment, all sound from the jungle’s wildlife faded, and the only thing I could hear was the shallow breathing of everyone around me.
“What is that?” Biggie moved toward the center, her eyes glued to the ground.
Beneath our feet was a circular drawing carved in mud, part of which had been smudged due to our footprints. It was a perfect circle with three gashes drawn evenly across its center. But what caught my attention was not the shape or its location, but rather, its color. It was stained in a deep red, which almost resembled black earth.
Trim’s knuckles whitened around her fishing spear. “We’re on Ogre territory.”
; Biggie’s face contorted and her nostrils flared. “Do you smell that?”
I inhaled a deep breath through my nostrils, although I suddenly wished I hadn’t. I couldn’t understand how I’d failed to notice such a foul stench. It was like nothing I’d ever smelled before, and the more I breathed, the more nauseous I became. It smelled of decay, something far worse than sour milk, and moldy cheese combined.
A drop of red fell from above and onto Biggie’s shoulder. She slowly tilted her head back, and I followed her eyes.
I wished I hadn’t.
What I saw was beyond anything I’d ever imagined to find in the jungle. It was a naked female body tied by the ankles, dangling upside down from a massive branch overhead. Her throat had been slit straight across, and there were symbols carved into her chest and shoulders. Her skin was completely blanched and her face and neck swollen to the point of being unrecognizable. But her lifeless, dandelion eyes remained wide open.
I knew exactly who we were looking at—Sunny.
CHAPTER 8
“We continue to train our people.” Murk lit the tip of a green cigar and leaned back in her chair.
Trim clenched both fists and stepped forward. “Did you not hear anything I just told you? They’ll attack us again. We need to make a move.”
“I did hear you, and my decision remains,” Murk said.
I couldn’t understand how she was being so calm about our attack and about our being ambushed and forced to retreat into enemy territory. I also couldn’t understand how we’d manage to survive Ogre territory without an encounter.
Fisher stepped forward and knelt on one knee. “With all due respect, Chief, if we do nothing, we’re sitting ducks just waiting to die.”
Murk exhaled a cloud of white smoke, ashed her cigar onto the stone floor, then eyed us carefully. “You all know how this works. You Hunters are the only ones with enough experience to take on an attack against the Northers. If we lose our Hunters, we lose our food supply, and we destroy ourselves from the inside out.”