by Amy Cross
“It's good stuff,” she says, dipping a finger into one of the guy's many wounds and then licking the blood. “I might keep a few pieces for myself.”
“Knock yourself out,” I mutter. “I still have half a rabbit left from this morning.”
As I start cutting the guy's shoulder muscles, Jude scurries over to his other side and starts filleting his belly. She smiles at me with those rich red lips and slightly over-sized dark eyes, and I can't help smiling back. Life on the island might be tough, but we make a pretty good team and I'm glad we decided to work together. Most people around here just look out for themselves, but I really trust Jude.
Of course, I'll have to stick a knife in her back some day soon. Before she sticks one in mine.
Chapter Seven
Iris
“Wow!” Marietty says, her eyes wide open as she stares at the monitor in the corner of our cell. “You've gotta hand it to those people, they know how to cause carnage!”
Glancing at the screen, I see images of some unnamed street that has been torn apart by a bomb. There have clearly been lots of casualties, but I quickly turn back and look at the wall. The last thing I need to see is more images of the world in turmoil.
“You not gonna watch this?” Marietty asks.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I don't reply.
“It's that Darius Locke guy again,” she continues. “I mean, they've haven't said his name yet on the broadcasts, but everyone knows. I'm not saying I'm in favor of the rebellion or anything like that, but...” Her voice trails off for a moment, as if she's truck by thoughts of pure wonder. “There's something almost balletic about all the destruction,” she adds finally. “Artistic, even. The goddamn world -”
“People died,” I point out, turning to her.
“People die every day.”
I force myself to look at the screen. With the sound off, I can only see the image of a reporter speaking into the camera.
“Innocent people get caught up in it all,” I continue, feeling a shiver in my chest as I think back to the night my parents went out and never returned. “Good people, who were just minding their own business.”
“So you support the government?” she asks. “Jesus, I never had you pegged for that.”
“I don't support anyone,” I reply, sickened by the idea. “I gave up trying to work out who are the good guys and bad guys a long time ago. All I care about now is...”
She waits for an answer. “All you care about is what? Yourself?”
“My sister,” I continue. “And yeah, myself. I used to try working out who was right and who was wrong in the rest of the world, but it's impossible. I don't care if I sound selfish, I just want to get the hell out of here and find my sister again.”
“How long have you got left?”
“Another six months,” I mutter. “It's too long.”
“Six months is nothing,” she continues. “Once you get down in the mines, you'll breeze through it and be back up in no time.”
“It'll be too late,” I reply, taking a series of deep breaths as I try to stay calm. “My sister will be lost in the system by then.”
“She's all you've got, huh?”
“I don't want to talk about it,” I mutter, glancing at the screen again and seeing images of wrecked cars. “I don't want to think about the rest of the world. It's nothing to do with me, not anymore. I only -”
Hearing footsteps nearby, I turn and look toward the door just as one of the guards steps into view.
“You've got a visitor,” she says, staring at me with a blank expression. “He's waiting in the main lounge.”
I open my mouth to ask who could possibly be here to see me, but suddenly I realize that it has to be a mistake. There's no-one in the world who'd ever want to come.
“Iris,” the guard continues, sounding bored and unimpressed, “you have a visitor. Move your ass.”
“Who is it?” I ask cautiously, getting to my feet. “Is it my sister?”
“Not unless your sister's a hot twenty-something guy,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Bran Carter, he's -”
“Do I have to see him?”
She frowns. “Why wouldn't you?”
“I don't want to talk to anyone.”
“What's wrong? Did you and your boyfriend have a fight or something?”
“He's not my boyfriend,” I say firmly, “I just... I don't want to talk to anyone.”
“He's already paid the visiting fee,” she points out. “He won't get that refunded, even if you refuse to see him. Seems a little mean of you to just turn him away.”
“Tell him I'm fine,” I reply. “Tell him I'm sorry, but that I don't want -”
Stopping suddenly, I realize that I'm being an idiot. If Bran's here, I could get him to go and check on Della, and then at least I'd know that she's okay. At the same time, even though that idea makes total sense, something in the back of my mind is telling me to hold back. I imagine Bran squeezing into my home and finding that there's no sign of Della, and then what would I do?
“Are you still deciding,” the guard asks after a moment, “or are we done here?”
“Tell him I'm sorry,” I reply, feeling a shiver pass through my body, “and tell him... Tell not to come again.”
Sighing, she turns and walks away, leaving me to wonder whether I just made a huge mistake. After all, I should have seen Bran and asked for his help with Della, but something about that idea just felt wrong, as if deep down in my gut I knew it'd be a bad move. I need to keep Della away from other people, because other people might pollute her and lead her into dangerous places. I'm all she has in the world, and so long as I can get out of this prison quickly, there's no need for anything to change. Our lives can get back to normal.
“So is he really hot?” Marietty asks from the other bunk.
I turn to her.
“Just wondering,” she continues. “If a hot guy came to visit me, I'd at least go let him see my pretty face. I mean, it's not often that someone from the outside bothers to worry about any of us. People in jail or preparing to go down into the mines, they get forgotten real fast.” She pauses for a moment. “I just think you might regret your choice some day, that's all.”
“You don't know what you're talking about,” I mutter, turning and heading out into the corridor. In the distance, raised voices indicate yet another fight somewhere on the wing, and I can hear guards racing to deal with it. There's violence in this place every day and although I've managed to avoid the worst of it so far, I know it's only a matter of time before I end up getting beaten or worse, which is why I have to find a way out of here. I honestly might not survive another six days in a place like this, let alone six months.
The worst part is, I've begun to realize that there might be one thing I can use as leverage. I'd probably be released early if I gave them the details of the building where Bran lives and let them know that there's seditious talk going on among his group. If they found Darius Locke hiding there, it'd be the counter-terror coup of the decade, it'd be all over the news broadcasts and I could maybe walk out of here right now. The thought of betraying Bran makes me feel nauseous, but at the same time, nothing's more important than getting back to Della. It's not my fault of Bran has made his own idiotic choices.
Looking up at the screen, I see more images of death and destruction in the city.
I won't volunteer any information just yet, but deep down I know that I'll turn Bran in if that's the only way to be reunited with my sister. In fact, I think maybe by subconscious mind has already made the decision, and the rest of me is just waiting to catch up. I don't care about the world. I only care about my sister.
Chapter Eight
Asher
“Did you see their faces?” Jude laughs as we make our way into the mouth of the cave. “You'd think they hadn't seen proper meat in a month!”
“They probably hadn't,” I reply, taking a few steps into the darkness until I'm able to see the far wall. T
his is a small cave, really just a hollow scoop in the rocks, but at least there's no-one else calling it home right now. We can stay for the night. “Face it, some people just aren't very good at hunting. I guess we just have a gift.”
“Want some?”
Turning, I watch as Jude bites into a chunk of the guy's flesh. Blood dribbles down her chin as she holds the meat out to me, and more blood runs between her fingers, dripping down onto the rocky ground.
I shake my head.
“It's good,” she continues, urging me to try.
“You know how I am,” I mutter, biting into one of the apples I found earlier on the ground. “I haven't quite got my head around the whole cannibalism thing just yet.”
“You have no idea what you're missing,” she replies, holding the chunk of meat up and giving it a squeeze, letting blood dribble into her mouth. As she does so, she keeps her eyes fixed on me and grins. I know she thinks I'll surrender eventually and start eating human meat, and I know she thinks she can somehow tempt me, but she's wrong. There are certain lines I can't ever cross, and cannibalism is one of them. I honestly think I'd rather die.
“We should push on tomorrow,” I tell her, stepping back to the mouth of the cave. To be honest, I don't even like to be around people when they eat human meat, the whole thing makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I can't show weakness. Besides, Jude's different somehow, and I can tolerate her little excesses. “I don't like this part of the island,” I continue, watching the distant tree-tops for a moment. “We should keep going north until we get to the tip of the island, and then we can think about trying a different approach. I haven't got a sense of the land yet, and I feel like no-one's really in charge.”
“Isn't that a good thing?”
I shiver as I realize that her mouth sounds full. “There's nothing wrong with a little organization,” I mutter.
“Then let's organize.”
Turning to her, I can't help frowning. “Us?”
“We could set up our own town instead of waiting for someone else to do it.” She tears off some more meat and chews for a moment. “Think about it, we're more than capable. We could build shelters, we could create defenses, we could do it way better than anyone else.”
“And put a big target on our backs in the process,” I point out.
“Like I said, defenses...”
“It's better to keep moving,” I continue. “The two of us can't establish our own town, the idea's crazy.” I pause for a moment, and I can't deny that somewhere at the back of my mind, I actually like the idea of settling down. We've spent the past two weeks trekking north, hoping to find somewhere to stop, and I'm pretty soon we'll reach the cliffs on the island's north side within a few days. When we get there, what's left for us? We'll just have to turn around and head south again, and then we won't be able to kid ourselves.
Hearing a distant rumbling sound, I turn and watch the horizon for a moment, and finally I spot a faint dot moving against the sky.
“Huh,” I mutter, “looks like some more lucky bastards are on their way.”
“How long do you think they'll last?” Jude asks.
“Minutes. Hours.” I shrug. “Most people get picked off pretty fast.”
“Not us,” she points out, nudging my arm. “I guess that makes us smart.”
“Or just lucky,” I reply, turning to her. “Let's not get cocky.”
“It's coming this way,” she continues, frowning as she watches the dot getting bigger.
“Maybe they'll drop them on our doorstep,” I mutter.
“If they do, can we go get them?”
“Get them?”
“Think of all the meat!”
“You want to prey on new arrivals?” I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you really that bloodthirsty? There's a word for people who do that. They're lurkers, and they're the scum of the island.”
“It's coming closer,” she replies with a faint smile. “Do you remember the old days, before the island, when people used to be able to order food and have it delivered to their homes? In a way, this is just like that, provided we -”
“Let's not talk about that,” I mutter, turning and making my way back into the shadows. Looking down at the pitiful collection of food we managed to get in exchange for that batch of human meat, I can't help wondering whether Jude might be right after all. If we stopped and established our own settlement, we could actually gather more possessions than just the items we're able to carry. The idea of setting down roots is anathema to everything I've learned since I arrived on the island, but we can't keep running forever. Maybe it's time to take a risk.
“They're coming right this way,” she says suddenly.
Turning, I realize that she's right. The helicopter is just a few hundred meters away now and seems to be turning toward the small clearing we passed earlier today. I tell myself that there's no way a set of new arrivals would happen to be deposited so close to us, but sure enough the 'copter is slowing and finally the door on the side slides open. A moment later, I watch as two armored figures roll a white bundle toward the edge.
“Jesus,” I whisper, having never actually seen new arrivals from this close before. Apart from when I came here, of course, but then my view was rather different.
“Come on!” Jude says excitedly, shoving the final chunk of meat into her mouth before grabbing my arm and starting to pull me down toward the treeline. “We have to go see!”
“Wait!” I try to hold back, but her grip is too firm and finally I run after her. Jude has a tendency to go barreling into new situations, whereas I prefer to hang back and cover all our bases. Both approaches have their virtues, but right now I definitely want to leave the new arrival well alone.
“What do you think it'll be?” she asks as she drags me along. “Do you think it'll be just one person, or will it be a few?”
“I only saw one being prepared,” I tell her, feeling a twinge of concern as I realize the sound of the 'copter is getting louder. We're already close to the clearing, and the last thing I want is to have any contact at all with the rest of the world. Stopping as soon as I see movement ahead, I squeeze Jude's hand and pull her back, and this time she's smart enough to slow a little, as if she realizes that I'm right. “Here comes the baby,” I whisper.
A couple of hundred feet away, a wriggling white mass is being lowered from the 'copter. When it bumps against the grass, the cord is cut and drops down, and a moment later the 'copter starts to rise again, quickly turning and making its way back toward open sea.
Job done.
The whole thing is so quick and clinical.
“It's okay now,” Jude says, turning to me with a grin of anticipation. “It's safe.”
“We still don't -”
“Come on,” she adds, slipping her hand from mine and making her way between the trees. “Don't be a pussy, Asher. We've got this covered.”
I open my mouth to argue with her, but suddenly I realize she might have a point. After all, I do have a tendency to be overly cautious, that's something that was true even in the old days when I lived in the city. Making my way after her, I reach down to check all my knives are in place on my belt, but when I get to the edge of the clearing I see that the new arrival is still struggling to get out of the white delivery sack. As he or she grunts and wriggles, I can't help feeling that this is someone who isn't going to last long on the island.
Next to me, Jude is struggling to keep from bursting into laughter.
“Were you so much better when you first came?” I whisper, keeping a straight face even though I have to admit the scene is slightly comical.
“I was better than this bozo,” she replies, taking a knife from my belt and striding toward the wriggling sack.
“Hey!” I hiss. “Stop!”
Ignoring me, she crouches next to the sack and pulls it closer. There's a startled cry from within, before Jude slices the knife into a section of fabric and rips it open. A human figure immediately com
es tumbling out onto the grass, and I realize with a twinge of concern that it's a woman, maybe a couple of years younger than me, dressed in one of the same old gray tunics that all new arrivals are given as a 'parting gift' when they leave the old world. Her eyes are wide and wild as she scrambles across the grass, clearly terrified and probably a little dizzy from the descent.
“Aw,” Jude says with a grin, “it's a girl!” She turns to me. “We got ourselves a -”
Before she can finish, the woman turns and punches her hard in the face, sending her dropping back. I step forward to intervene, but the new arrival has already managed to grab the knife from inside her sack and has placed it against Jude's neck.
“Don't come any closer!” the girl hisses. “I'll kill her if you move an inch!”
“Calm down,” I reply, holding my hands up to show that I'm not armed. “We're not here to -”
“Bullshit!” the girl continues, maneuvering herself behind Jude and wrapping an arm around her neck, while keeping the blade pressed against her flesh. I can't help noticing that this girl is graceful with a knife, as if she's used one before. “You were just coming to welcome me, were you?”
I glance at Jude and see fear in her eyes.
“We were curious,” I explain, with my hands still raised in mock surrender. “We didn't really have a plan at all, we just saw the 'copter coming and came to take a look.”
“And then what were you gonna do?” the new arrival asks breathlessly. “Kill me? Or just hurt me? They told me before I left that people like you hang out at drop sites, waiting to pick on the new arrivals.”
“There are people like that,” I tell her, “but not us.” I wait for her to reply, but I can tell she's panicking, desperately trying to come up with a plan. “Since we're already here,” I continue, “why don't you let us help you? Trust me, the biggest mistake new arrivals make is trying to do everything alone. If you can find someone to trust, you've got a much better change of surviving your first few hours.”