by Shade Owens
“Hang in there,” she whispered. “You’ll be out soon enough.”
And with that, she swung away and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
CHAPTER 8
The sun pierced the morning sky, forming a bumpy orange line at the bottom of the bamboo gate. I didn’t know how many sunrises had passed since we’d been captured. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand—something I knew was a big no-no on the island.
As Rocket had once explained to me, eyes were very sensitive and were usually the first organs to absorb an infection or an illness. But I didn’t care. Maybe I’d finally catch something. I still couldn’t understand why I hadn’t caught anything when I first landed on Kormace Island. Many women did, and many of them died. Yet, here I was, alive and well for the most part.
It was my turn, now, to catch some incurable disease, because I couldn’t handle this anymore.
Yet I thought of Franklin and the news she’d let spill. Why hadn’t she told us? Why keep something as serious as cancer to herself? It all made sense now. I understood why she was so angry all the time. She was dying, and she knew it.
I watched her as she sat with her legs crossed in the middle of the cell. Her knees were bigger than her legs because she’d already lost so much weight. She looked like a doll or a character built of sticks you’d find in one of Tim Burton’s movies—an obsession my mom had. These movies were apparently over fifty years old, and my mom held a collection of something called DVDs.
I thought of my mom and smiled.
God, I missed her so much.
How was I supposed to continue living while knowing I’d never see her again?
Did she think of me? Was she thinking of me right now? Would she look for me after three years, or would the government come up with some fabricated tale about how I didn’t survive the island? Even if they did, they’d probably be right—I’d die here sooner or later.
“Piss off!”
“Get off me!”
Footsteps shuffled.
“Guys!”
“Let—let go!”
Coin grabbed Hammer by the throat and pinned her against the back wall. She raised a tight fist and smashed it into Hammer’s face.
Hammer tried to swing back but missed when Coin swung another fist into her stomach.
Johnson jumped in, grabbing Coin by the arms, but she was thrown off before she could get a strong grip.
“Guys!” Arenas shouted, her short figure bouncing up and down beside the fight.
I rushed toward them and wrapped two solid arms around Coin’s upper body.
“Get off me!” she growled.
I wasn’t sure how I was managing to hold on to her, but I was.
“Stop it!” I said.
“Let go!” Coin shouted, trying to squirm out of my grip.
But I didn’t. I did exactly as Eagle had done to Elektra when she’d had one of her tantrums. I held on, hoping for her anger to pass.
Hammer stepped aside, rubbing her fingers against her rosy cheek. It was obvious she hadn’t wanted to fight.
Coin drew in a long breath and let it out, her chest deflating under my hold.
“You good?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead, I felt her chest bounce up and down in rapid movements. What was she doing? Laughing?
But the sound that came out of her mouth wasn’t laughter at all. It was a long, choppy lament that filled the room with dreariness. She collapsed to her knees, bringing me down with her, and I held on to her as I’d done for Franklin.
She threw her head back, releasing another loud howl, her mouth wide open. She clawed at her cheeks, her fingernails digging into and pulling at the skin under her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said, and she dropped her head onto my neck, sobbing the way I’d never seen a grown woman do before.
I caught Hammer’s eyes and then Franklin’s, and it was clear we all felt the same thing—a dark hopelessness capable of shattering one’s will to live.
“It’s o—” I tried, but the gate blasted open, and there stood Zsasz with that same horrid smirk on her face.
She stepped inside, rolled up her sleeve, and revealed a fresh cut on the inside of her wrist. She stared at us from behind her bright eyes that looked white in contrast with the dark paint around her eyes. Her skull mask was hanging at her chin, which meant she’d been wearing it.
Had she left the city? Gone out and killed more of our own?
She grinned this time, revealing a set of yellow canine teeth. “Wore the same clothes as you,” she said, almost tauntingly.
I glared at her, imagining what it would feel like to rip out her heart with my bare hands. I’d make her pay when the time was right. I’d kill her. I’d fucking kill her.
“Little redhead,” she went on. “Looked pretty young, too.”
Little redhead? Who was she talking about? None of the Hunters were redheads.
“What do you want?” Johnson shouted.
“Sweet little brown eyes,” Zsasz continued. “Got all big when I stuck a knife in her stomach, though.”
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
I lunged straight at her face, swinging my arms to grab anything I could. Hair, skin, her eyes—I didn’t care. I needed to hurt her, make her suffer. Even if it meant she’d kill me afterward.
But something hard suddenly knocked me against the side of my face. My ear rang, and everything went fuzzy. I took a few steps back and collapsed flat on my side.
Someone rushed over; I couldn’t tell who—only that they were checking to make sure I hadn’t died.
Then, there was screaming, followed by what sounded like punches or slaps.
What was going on?
“Let her go!”
Another scream.
I tilted my head up, but all I saw were blurry silhouettes that appeared to be dancing with each other.
Someone was fighting, but I couldn’t see who it was.
I was able to make out Zsasz, though, because of her heavy equipment and that jiggly bun on her head. She swung a backhand fist, and whoever was trying to attack her was propelled into the air and back into the prison cell.
Two other people from the outside of the cell came in and scooped someone up.
I blinked.
“Fr-Franklin,” I tried.
They were dragging her away again.
CHAPTER 9
“She’s back.”
I blinked hard and opened my eyes, immediately regretting it.
Coin’s swollen face hovered inches away from mine, and her rancid breath crept into my nostrils. It looked like her left eye had been injected with Botox—the same look I’d given Hammer awhile back. She must have noticed the grimace on my face, because she gave me a sly smirk and said, “Shiner, or what?”
“What happened?” I moaned.
I stretched my jaw, and a shooting pain radiated into my neck and down my back.
“We tried to defend you,” she said. “Crazy bitch ain’t human.”
I sat up. “We?”
Johnson was sitting against the wall with one arm over her knee, and one hand over what appeared to be an injured arm.
“Dislocated her shoulder,” Coin said, following my gaze.
I cringed.
“You feelin’ okay?” she asked.
Dizzy, I rubbed my jaw and shook my head. “What happened?”
“She clocked you with a stick or somethin’.”
“Nice,” was all I could say.
And then, it all came back to me. “Franklin!”
But Coin pressed a hand on my shoulder, forcing me back down. She looked at the ground solemnly and shook her head.
“Nothing we can do,” Johnson said. “Story of our lives, though, isn’t it?” she scoffed. “Always suffering at the hands of someone else.”
I wasn’t sure where this was coming from.
Unexpectedly, she let out a laugh—a deep, unpleasant laugh that sounded more like a gr
unt than anything else. “Three years,” she said. “Three fucking years! That’s what they gave me. I’ve sat on this nightmare of an island for over fifteen years now. I think. I don’t even know. Maybe it’s been twenty. Not like we keep a calendar handy! Why do we even try? I mean, what’s the point? I’d rather be dead. I’m done. I’m fucking done.”
The cell went quiet until Hammer cleared her throat. “Been about the same for me, Johnson. I hear you. I do. I hate it here. This isn’t a life anyone should ever have to live. But so help me God, I’m not givin’ up until those demons”—she pointed a stiff finger at the bamboo gate—“pay for everything they’ve done.”
Hammer was right. As much as I hated the prospect of being alive right now, I was living for one thing and one thing only—revenge.
I stood up, using the wall behind me for support, and drew my aching shoulders back. I was so weak it seemed like venom was seeping through my muscles, as though my bones might snap like autumn twigs if I were to shift my weight the wrong way.
“Hammer’s right,” I said. “They need to pay for this.” I pointed a finger at the ground but closed my fist when I realized I was shaking. “They’re doing everything they can to break us, but we can’t let them. We have to stay strong.” I swallowed hard, and my throat made a sticking sound. “We need to support each other when one of us wants to give up. And we can’t be turning against each other.” I eyed Hammer and Coin, and they nodded awkwardly.
No one objected. They stood like a herd of sheep, awaiting a command.
My mind was made up. We would devise a plan—something well thought out and calculated. There had to be a way out of this. These women were primitive savages. Surely, we could outsmart them.
Somehow…
I stared at the prison gate, the dirt floor, and the filthy women around me, including Alice’s dead body, which had already started decomposing. Everyone was covered in so much dirt, their eyes looked like brand-new golf balls.
But something caught me off guard: the sound of footsteps approaching. What was going on? Why were they coming back? It wasn’t like Zsasz to come back on the same day. She usually waited days, or weeks, before returning.
Heavy boots ticked against the bottom of the gate, and the latch unlocked.
Several figures darkened the space behind the gate, and it opened, revealing Zsasz and Rebel. They stared at us for a moment as if contemplating who they were going to choose next.
Dear God…
This was it. They were going to pluck me out and torture me. Torture me for having lunged at Zsasz. They were going to make an example of me.
And if not me, someone else. We needed all the women we had. I glanced at Tegan. Why couldn’t they take her? She was already a mess. Guilt crept into the pit of my stomach for even thinking it, but I was in survival mode—I couldn’t control my thoughts.
Zsasz opened the door even farther and a humid gust of wind came sweeping in. Yet she didn’t come in or try to grab anyone.
What was she doing?
Her hideous stripe-scarred lips curled up and she extended an open palm out and away from the prison cell.
“Welcome to General Population.”
CHAPTER 10
“This way,” the old woman said, tugging at Coin’s arm.
But another woman who looked a little less beaten stepped forward and grabbed my hand. “No, this way.”
The old woman—the one who’d grabbed Coin’s hand—bared her partial set of teeth and let out a hiss.
“Barbara!” the young woman snapped. I knew that name. It was the name of the woman who’d come to see us that one evening—the one who’d told us to be strong. She looked familiar, too—maybe she was the crazy lady I’d seen when I’d first stepped foot on this territory. “Do you remember the agreement?”
Barbara nodded her matted head. She reminded me of an unkempt submissive dog—the kind who liked to push their boundaries, but when scolded, quickly retreated in fear of being punished. I could tell she was more of a follower than a doer.
“New girls go with… with food people,” Barbara said slowly.
“That’s right,” the young woman said. “So, these women are coming with me.”
Barbara scowled at her from behind narrow hazel eyes, turned her hunched back away from us, and left with a noticeable limp.
“Don’t mind her,” the woman said, eyeing each of us. Half of her head was shaved on one side, and the other half hung down to her jawline in orange waves. Freckles covered her face, her neck, and her shoulders. She didn’t look very old—maybe early twenties—which meant she couldn’t have been here that long.
“I’m Alice,” the woman said, pressing a flat hand on her chest.
Arenas scoffed, and Alice’s wild eyes turned on her.
“That’s great,” Arenas said, shaking her head over and over. “Just fuckin’ great… Goddamn cabrona.”
Alice looked at me and cocked her brow. I shook my head. “The dead woman in the cell was named Alice.”
Alice’s face went flat as if she were trying to process an empathetic response. But nothing happened. She stared at Arenas for a few seconds, the freckles on her face looking yellow underneath the afternoon sun, then swung around on her heels. “Well, she’s dead. Now, follow me.”
Arenas stiffened and formed balls with her fists, but I pressed a hand over her chest.
“Alice Number Two,” she grumbled under her breath.
I squeezed her forearm and nodded. “Alice Number Two.”
Alice Number Two led us through a crowd of women who circled us like vultures. Someone clasped their cold hand around my wrist, but when I swung around to see who it was, they’d already let go.
“Come on, Alice, you can share! We need help at the Materials Station!”
Alice Number Two didn’t respond. She kept walking, her head raised high as if she’d won a bid at an auction.
We walked passed a wooden shelter that looked like a tiki bar you’d see in the Caribbean by the ocean. It had a hay or yellow grass roof, and four thick wooden poles supported the entire structure. Underneath it was a woman with a bald, scarred head that looked deformed, almost like she’d been slapped with a bible over the head as a baby.
There was something off about her—she looked disabled. Her bottom lip was drooping on one side, and she twitched every time she swung her metal rod against what appeared to be another piece of metal. It made a sharp intermittent clunking noise as we walked by, but what bothered me most was the material she was using.
How the hell had they gotten ahold of metal?
“That’s Smith,” said Alice Number Two, and Johnson let out a chortle. Alice Number Two’s eyes shifted to her. “That’s the name she was given.”
“Given?” I asked.
I glanced over at Smith, realizing something I’d missed before. Her ankle was tied and fastened to the stool underneath her.
“She’s the only one who makes the weapons,” said Alice Number Two. “The Originals don’t want anyone else having access to them. So that means”—she pointed a crooked finger at our faces—“don’t go near Smith because she’s been trained to gut anyone who gets too close.”
“Originals?” Hammer said, watching Smith with an alien admiration.
Alice Number Two cocked an eyebrow. “Did Murk not tell you anything about us?”
I gritted my teeth at the mention of Murk’s name. She had no right using it. Not after what her people had done to ours. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to tackle her to the ground and bash her face in until it turned to soup.
But I couldn’t do it. There were too many of them.
“The Originals,” she repeated. She cocked her head to the side when we didn’t react. “The Orphans? Does that mean anything to you?”
She was staring at us as if this was supposed to trigger a memory. But it didn’t. The only thing Murk had ever told us was that Rainer decided to leave, along with dozens of women, to build her own colony. What on
Earth did orphans have to do with Kormace Island?
“We don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Coin said. “And honestly, we don’t give a shit about you or your shitty little civilization you have here. Y’all a bunch of crazy bitches anyway. And where the hell is Franklin?”
It was obvious that Coin was sleep, food, and water deprived. She wasn’t usually this bold.
Alice Number Two stared at her for a while, not once blinking. But Coin didn’t back down. She crossed her frail arms over her chest and pulled her shoulders back. It didn’t do much, though. She’d lost so much muscle mass in the last few weeks or months, that her bulldog look had become more of a Boston terrier look.
“Who’s Franklin?” Alice Number Two finally asked, not a shred of emotion on her face.
I couldn’t tell whether she was mentally delayed or downright psychotic—it was hard to differentiate between the two.
“Our friend!” Coin snapped, lunging forward.
Hammer and I both grabbed her at the same time, stopping her midair.
“Oh,” said Alice Number Two. “You mean that lanky woman with the tattoos?”
Her voice was so monotone, it was irritating.
“That’s the one,” Coin said through clenched teeth. We were still holding her by the arms, her head sticking out ahead of her body, and caramel-colored veins popped out of her neck.
Alice Number Two smirked. “First of all, your friend is no longer your friend.” She wiggled a finger at Tegan, who was at the very back of the line, her head bowed low and her fingers interlocked in front of her. “Like this one. There’s no one left in there.”
I realized I was digging my fingernails into Coin’s arm when she grimaced at me and yanked herself out of my grip.
“And secondly,” she continued, “you might want to reconsider your next move.”
This time, she’d directed her words at Coin. What was that supposed to mean? Coin breathed hard through wide nostrils, her eyes fixated on the Norther in front of her. Hammer was still holding on, and I feared that if she let go, Coin would snap this woman in half.
“We have a few rules here,” said Alice Number Two, waving around that same freckled finger. She twirled in a circle as she spoke, pointing her finger out in every direction. “Nothing major… You’ll get to learn them as you go. But when it comes to violence…” She let out a laugh, and it sounded like a car stalling—loud and choppy. “If you value your life at all, I’d suggest you fight your violent tendencies.”