by Amy Cross
She tries again, and this time I'm almost able to make something out. “There,” I think is one of the words.
“Say it again,” I tell her, raising my voice so that hopefully she can hear me. All around us, the storm is still battering the pitch-black forest.
I wait, and at first all I hear is her hot breath against my ear. Finally, she reaches up and clutches my shoulder, as if to pull me closer.
“We're being watched,” she gasps suddenly. “There's someone out there.”
“What?”
I wait, but she's just gurgling again. Turning, I look out at the darkness. I can't see a damn thing, of course, but after a moment it occurs to me that maybe Jude's distended left pupil lets more light in, which means she might be able to see better than me. I keep watching the black scene, but there's nothing to see and all I can hear is the sound of the storm continuing. Every so often I hear the crash of a falling tree, and I can't help tensing in case one comes down on top of us.
“There can't be anyone watching us,” I whisper, feeling a shiver pass through my already frozen body. “It's like the end of the world out there tonight. There's no-one.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Iris
“You gonna miss it?”
Turning away from the window, I see that the girl from the induction class is wandering over to join me. I turn back to look out at the vast city as its lights shine under a night sky, and for a moment I truly don't know how to answer her question.
“Tash,” she says finally. “Natasha, but... People call me Tash.”
“Iris,” I reply.
“Iris?” She smiles. “What the hell kind of a name is that?”
“Are you going to miss it?” I ask, watching as Schiff vessels pass over the building. “Are you thinking about pulling out? They said we can still change our minds and go to the culk mines instead.”
“No chance,” she says firmly. “I don't change my mind about anything. Not ever.”
“Do you have family?”
She pauses. “I've made my decision. Once I get to the island, nothing that happens here is important anymore. This time tomorrow, we'll be there. Apparently we could have gone tonight, but there's a big storm so they've held us back a day. To be honest, I think that's a load of bull. There's probably no storm, they just want us to get scared and back out.”
“I can't do that,” I reply. “I've done too many bad things here.”
“Like what?”
“Like... I betrayed someone.”
“So what?”
“It matters to me.”
She laughs, apparently finding this amusing. “I'm just sick of all the garbage,” she mutters. “I'm sick of the government, and I'm sick of the rebels, and I'm sick of trying to work out whether every person I meet is a good person or just another low-life slime. The whole world is just a game, but the problem is, there's no prize anymore. It's just about surviving, and I figure I'd rather try that on the island. Screw the rest of these assholes, I'm sick of everything.”
“I know the feeling,” I mutter.
“Just don't expect any help,” she adds. “We're not gonna be friends when we get there. I work alone, and the last thing I want is to go all the way out there just to hang out with some doozy. No offense intended, obviously.”
“Sure,” I reply, “I mean, I just want to... I just want to not be here anymore.”
We stand in silence for a few minutes, watching the late night city lights. After a while, it strikes me that I'll never see this view again, that after tomorrow I'll never see another electric light, I'll never hear another siren, I'll never look at another screen or hear the whir of a machine. All those things and a million more will be gone, replaced by silence. I feel like I'll be seeing the real world for the first time ever, and I'm not quite sure what to expect. Finally, in the distance, I see a faint hint of orange on the horizon, briefly flaring against the night sky.
“Bet you any money that's a bomb,” Tash says. “I can't wait to get away from this place. The government and the rebels are welcome to each other.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Asher
By the time dawn comes, I've almost managed to fall asleep. Almost. It's still raining out there, of course, but the worst of the storm seems to have passed and at least the wind has died down. Drifting in and out of a light slumber, I keep opening my eyes for a few seconds at a time to watch as morning light starts to break through the darkness, and I finally I realize that I might as well try to stay awake.
I was right. Trees came down during the storm. A lot of trees.
In fact, the small clearing where we set up camp has become a much larger clearing now, criss-crossed with fallen trunks. Still soaking wet, I turn and look around, slowly starting to realize that we must have been incredibly lucky during the night. Trees have fallen in several areas nearby, and one of them could just as easily have come crashing down right on top of us, crushing us in an instant. The ground has turned to a muddy bog, and continued rain means that the whole scene looks like some kind of war-zone.
Miraculously, however, our little shelter seems to have held up pretty well, despite some damage to the roof. The fence is gone, though, although I can see part of it a little further away, partly wrapped around a tree. It's almost as if the storm plucked it up and carried it away, taking all my hard work. Still, the fallen trees should make it easier to source fresh wood for a while, even if it'll take a while to dry out. In fact, as morning sunlight shines through and catches puddles of rainwater all around us, I can't help thinking that the world around us seems to have completely changed overnight. Back in the city, storms just battered the buildings but left everything standing; here, the storm seems to have reset the landscape, changing it in so many ways.
It's like another fresh start.
“Are you okay?” I ask, turning to Jude and seeing that she's staring out at the carnage. “Hey,” I continue, nudging her shoulder with my cheek. “Can you say something? Can you hear me?”
She pauses, before turning to me. The wound on the side of her head has been washed clean by the rain and wind, exposing not only sections of bloodied flesh but also something pale further down, which I figure might be a part of her broken skull. Still, I don't want to look too closely, since it's not as if I can do anything about it.
“I'm just going to take a look around, okay?” I tell her. “I need to see what's different. Wait here.”
I start to get up, but she grabs my hand, as if she wants me to stay.
“What's wrong?” I ask. “Jude, I won't go far.”
Slowly, she turns and looks toward the trees, and then she raises a trembling hand and points. I turn, but there's no sign of anything or anyone.
“You were wrong last night,” I tell her. “There's no way anyone could have survived out there. Anyone who wasn't in some kind of shelter during the storm last night is most likely dead. I'm sure there are a lot fewer people on the island this morning.”
I wait, but she's still pointing toward the trees, and I can tell that she has no doubts at all. Still, I guess I can't really trust her judgment right now.
“I'm sure you think you saw someone,” I continue, “but maybe you're not quite in the right frame of mind. It's natural for you to have a few little hallucinations here and there, okay? At least, it's probably natural, I don't know for sure. Just don't push yourself too hard.”
She pauses, before turning to me. Her lips twitch slightly, as if she might be about to say something.
“I won't go where you can't see me,” I tell her. “I promise.”
“Someone,” she whispers, her voice sounding harsh and damaged. “Someone out there.”
Slipping my hand out of hers, I get to my feet, immediately squelching ankle-deep into the mud. The rain has finally died down, though, leaving chilled air. “There's no-one out there,” I reply. “Not for miles and miles, anyway. Your eyes were just playing tricks on you, it's kinda natural given your
...” My voice trails off for a moment. “Well, I'll clean that wound up in a minute. Get you healing again.”
Turning, I struggle to wade through the mud and finally I stop for a moment, feeling my soaked clothes weighing me down. Figuring that I need to start cleaning up, I slip my wet tunic off and start wringing as much water out as possible. I take a few minutes to do the same with all my clothes, and then I hang them on a tree branch, hoping that the morning sun will break through soon and start to dry them. I'll have to do the same for Jude soon, but first I start making my way naked across the clearing, heading for the spot where I stored our supplies last night. Hopefully there'll be some dry tunics in there somewhere, although it's soon clear that my attempt to weather-proof the bags with an old section of canopy wasn't entirely successful. When I start to pull the first of them up, cold water dribbles out onto my knee.
“Great,” I mutter, turning to look back toward Jude.
Suddenly I something far off, darting between the trees about two hundred feet beyond the edge of the clearing. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest, and sure enough I spot another faint hint of movement, as if someone is hiding behind one of the larger trunks.
I immediately drop down to the ground, and after a moment I start scooping up mud from the ground and smearing it all over my face and body as a kind of camouflage. Leaning down, I roll through the mud, covering myself completely and then looking toward the trees again, waiting for another sign of movement.
Nothing.
After waiting for a few more seconds, I start crawling across the clearing, heading toward Jude. I reach her quickly and find that she's already looking toward the distant spot where the figure was moving a moment earlier.
“Maybe you were right,” I whisper to her. “I think maybe someone was out there after all.”
Reaching past her, I grab one of our larger knives and hand it to Jude, before taking another and looking toward the trees again.
This time, there's no sign of anyone.
“Get down,” I tell Jude, and she obeys, dropping into the mud next to me. “Cover yourself,” I continue, scooping up some of the mud and smearing it against her. “Do like I've done. It's the only way, we have to camouflage ourselves. It's not for long.”
I half expect her to simply stare at me, but somewhere deep inside she seems to understand. She pulls her tunic away and dips down into the mud, quickly covering every inch of her skin.
“Stay low,” I whisper, “and don't make a sound. It's probably not a danger, it's most likely some random person who'll move on, but I want to play things safe.”
She stares at me for a moment, before turning and looking toward the trees. For several minutes, we remain completely still, waiting for even the slightest hint of a presence. Nothing moves out there, however, and the whole forest seems eerily quiet, as if the passing of the storm has brought a new sense of calm. I keep turning and looking in all directions, but I'm slowly starting to think that maybe the distant figure, whoever it was, has simply moved on. After all, not everyone on the island is spoiling for a fight. Most people are simply trying to survive and have learned that the best approach is to avoid others like the plague.
I figure we'll wait in silence for a few more minutes, and then -
Suddenly Jude starts screaming. I turn, half expecting to find that someone has crept up on us, but there's no sign of an intruder. Turning to Jude, I see that she's pointing toward the nearby trees, and her scream is getting louder as she scrambles back. Whatever she's seen, or thinks she's seen, she's clearly terrified.
“What is it?” I stammer, trying not to panic. I watch the treeline for a moment, but there's definitely nothing there. “Jude,” I continue, turning to her, “what's wrong?”
Instead of answering me, she starts scrambling to her feet, struggling through the mud while keeping her knife raised. After a moment she fells back, landing hard, but her scream continues until it becomes a kind of lower, fevered whimper.
“What?” I shout, turning and looking around again but still seeing nothing. She must be imagining things, she has to be. There's no way anyone can be close to us, not without having made a noise, but still Jude won't stop screaming. “What's wrong?” I ask, turning to her again. “Jude, for God's sake, just tell me!”
Suddenly, above, a 'copter swoops low over the forest, racing further inland. Looking up, I realize it must be delivery time again. Another poor bastard is being brought to the island.
Chapter Twenty-three
Iris
“You'll be lowered down in protective canopies,” the soldier shouts, his voice barely audible over the sound of the helicopter's blades, “and then you'll be on your own. Is that understood?”
I stare out the window for a moment, watching as we fly across the island. There's a vast forest below, but there are also clear patches of open land and even hills. Further inland, a mountain rises toward the sky, while I can also see lakes and rivers. The place is much, much larger than I ever expected, and every so often I catch a glimpse of human figures down there. It's like a whole new world down there, and for the first time I start to realize the immense possibilities offered by such a place.
Suddenly I feel someone nudging my arm, and I turn to find the soldier leaning toward me.
“Is that understood?” he asks.
I nod, feeling a little shell-shocked.
“Any last-minute advice for us?” Tash asks, her voice filled with fear but also a hint of anticipation. “Like, when we get down there, should we stick together or is it better to split up?”
“It's not my job to give you advice,” the soldier replies, grabbing a large white cloth bag and pulling it over to us. “What I will say, though, is that these canopy bags are vital.” He holds the bag open to reveal a pouch on the inside, with some kind of wooden handle poking out. “That's your knife,” he explains. “Officially, it's provided so you can cut your way out of the canopy when you get down there, but unofficially it's also a parting gift from the world you're leaving behind. The canopy itself is also useful, the material is waterproof and you'll see that the opening contains a series of cords. If you're inventive, you can use the fabric for a lot of different things.”
“Okay,” Tash continues, “what about -”
“Advice over. He says firmly. Get in.”
“What do you mean?” Tash asks with a frown.
“This is your canopy. You'll be lowered down in it, so get in.”
Tash turns to me, and for the first time I can tell she's scared. All the bluster and bombast is missing from her face, replaced by a kind of paralyzed fear. I feel exactly the same way.
“Great,” Tash says finally, rolling her eyes as she turns to the soldier and tries to get her swagger back, “so not only is the island full of psychopaths, but they're psychopaths with knives! Thanks for that.”
“Who goes first?” I ask, as the helicopter takes a sudden turn to the left and then slows, finally stopping to hover over a large clearing with a river running through the center.
“I don't care who goes first,” the soldier says firmly. “I just want one of you two to get into this goddamn canopy. Whoever goes second'll only be about thirty seconds behind.”
“I'll go first,” Tash says, slipping forward and climbing in. Turning to me, she forces a smile. “Seeya down there, dumb ass. Betcha I last longer than you. In fact, why don't we -”
Before she can finish, the soldier pulls a cord on the canopy's side, causing it to pull shut. “I hate the mouthy ones,” he mutters, climbing over her and attaching the canopy to a thick black rope before sliding the door open. Without further ado, he grabs the canopy and drags it to the edge before tossing it over the side. He grabs a handle on the wall and starts turning it, and when I lean forward I see that Tash is slowly being winched down to the ground about fifty meters below. The sound of the helicopter's blades is deafening, but in a strange way they're also a little comforting. After all, this is the last time I'll ever be
in any kind of vehicle.
“You're next,” the soldier says, turning to me. “Get into your canopy.”
Doing as I'm told, I can't help feeling a cold shiver in my chest as I try to imagine what it'll be like down there.
“What's wrong?” he asks, letting go of the handle and coming over to me. “Getting cold feet?”
“Is she down already?” I reply.
“Say hi to her for me,” he says with a smile. “Tell her I miss her already.”
I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly he reaches down and the canopy closes around me, enveloping me in a world of soft, eggshell white fabric. A second later, I feel myself being dragged toward the helicopter's door. I twist around, filled with fear, struggling to fight the urge to beg him for a reprieve, to tell him I want to go back to the mainland and into the mines. I actually come close to screaming, but suddenly I feel myself being pushed over the edge and tumbling down, before the rope tightens and I realize I'm being lowered. The sound of the helicopter's blades is getting further and further away. A moment later, I feel myself bumping against the soft, cold ground, and then the remains of the rope come slithering down onto the canopy's top.
I freeze for a moment, before realizing that it's done.
I'm here.
Twisting around, I fumble for the knife and pull it out of the pocket on the canopy's fabric. I push the blade through the side and start cutting, finally spilling out and landing straight in a patch of muddy ground. Gasping for breath, with my heart beating fast enough to burst, I look around and see the helicopter swinging around above us. Looking up, I watch with stunned disbelief as it flies away over the trees, until finally it disappears into the distance.
That was so quick.
A minute ago I was up there, still part of the world, and now I'm here.
I'm on the island.
“Classic mistake,” Tash's voice says suddenly.