Persona (The Island Book 2)

by Amy Cross

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Asher

  Reaching my hand between the rocks, I fumble for something, anything, I can grab. I need to keep pulling myself through the darkness, but the effort is almost too much and my entire body aches. Still, deep down I know I can't give up, so finally I force myself to ignore the pain as I haul myself forward inch by inch.

  Suddenly another hand grabs mine in the darkness, holding it tight.

  “I'm here,” Deckard gasps, his voice filled with pain. “Asher, I've found the way out!”

  Chapter Forty

  Asher

  “Asher's alive,” Harold says as soon as we reach one of the huts at the far side of the clearing. With just a small fire burning near the doorway, there's barely enough light for me to see his face as he turns to me. “I feel it. You feel it too, don't you?”

  I wait for him to continue, but after a moment I realize that he's testing me.

  “It's okay,” he continues. “I can lip-read. Please, Iris, tell me you feel it too. Maybe Ben and Leanne are mistaken, or maybe they're lying to me, but I know Asher is alive. She's far too smart to get picked off by those idiots.”

  “You can lip-read?” I mouth.

  He nods.

  I feel a shudder pass through my chest. Harold's only the second person I've met who seems able to understand me.

  “I don't know where Asher is,” I mouth carefully, moving my lips slowly so he can read them. “I haven't seen her since I left here months ago.”

  “Lip-reading isn't always enough,” he replies. “Without a tongue, you clearly struggle to form certain shapes.” He steps closer. “It must be frustrating, Iris, not being able to talk to anyone. I'm sure you have so much to say, I'm sure you see a great deal, but -”

  I flinch and pull away when he tries to put a hand on my shoulder.

  “Where did you go?” he asks with a faint smile. “I heard the others saying that you set out to look for other towns. Tell me, did you find anything?”

  I swallow hard, before slowly shaking my head.

  “Really?” he continues. “I find that difficult to believe. Are you sure?”

  “I'm sure,” I mouth.

  He stares at me for a moment, as if he's trying to see the truth in my eyes. “You didn't find ruins, Iris?” he asks finally. “You didn't stumble across the remains of old towns out there? You didn't find the bodies of people who tried but failed to work together?”

  Again, I shake my head.

  “They are out there, you know,” he continues. “Maybe you weren't looking in the right places, but there are ruined towns on the island. Few of them are as impressive as Steadfall, although one or two even surpassed this muddy little place. Every single one of them fell, though, and can you guess why?” He waits for me to answer. “I'll tell you,” he adds once he realizes I'm not going to reply. “They fell because here on the island, mankind is a savage beast, ruled by his baser instincts.”

  “Not everyone's like that,” I mouth.

  “Oh, I know,” he replies. “There are still some hold-outs, people who cling to the idea of civilization. They even build little towns from time to time, just like this one here at Steadfall. They pretend to have recovered their own corner of peace, a sanctuary in the heart of such a terrible place, but it never lasts. The savages always turn up eventually and tear everything down. The best part is that the same is true of the wider world, the world you and the others here left behind. No matter what mankind builds, eventually some form of human savagery will tear it down again.”

  I want to turn and get out of here, but at the same time I feel as if I need to hear what he has to say. I need to understand him a little better.

  “I fought in the war,” he continues finally. “I was a medic, but still, I fought. Like Asher, I was shipped off far away to fight an enemy whose very identity is a closely-guarded secret. And like Asher, once I came back from many years on the battlefield, my mind was wiped so that I would not remember any of it.” He smiles. “Do you have a fondness for history, Iris? Do you know how things were done in the old days?”

  I shake my head.

  “Once upon a time,” he replies, “mankind couldn't wipe memories so easily. People who returned from war had no option but to remember what they'd seen, what they'd experienced. Some of them coped with it admirably, but others fell apart. The horrors of war were too much for their minds to comprehend. There are accounts of life in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, of men and women who tried but failed to fit back into society. They were haunted by what had happened to them in the war, and they couldn't be normal again.”

  He steps past me and stops in the doorway for a moment, looking out at the dark town, before glancing back at me.

  “Of course now we wipe the minds of soldiers after they come back. Not only to hide the identity of our enemy, but also to spare those brave men and women the horror that their memories will bring. And yet...” He pauses, and for the first time there seems to be a trace of fear in his eyes. “And yet there's a gap where the memories should be,” he continues. “I don't remember events from the war, but I remember sensations. I remember being terrified, I remember being absolutely certain I was going to die. I remember sorrow. I remember loss and grief. I remember fear beyond anything you can imagine. I remember a crippling sense of hopelessness. All of those feelings and more are in my soul, but they're not anchored to any specific memories. They're just in me, rattling around.”

  “Asher never talks about the war,” I try to tell him, mouthing the words as carefully as I can manage.

  “Asher feels the same way, I'm sure,” he replies. “The only difference between me and her is that whereas I embrace the chaos I feel, she tries to push it away. She tries to deny who and what she is, while I try to dig deeper and deeper into myself so that I might tear the truth out. But Asher still is a soldier, she still has all those instincts, and that's how I know with absolute certainty that Ben and Leanne weren't able to kill her. She's like me, she's a survivor, and she has passed every test I've set before her. I haven't been entirely honest about my reasons for coming to the island, Iris. You see, I -”

  He turns to me, and then he frowns.

  “The person who cut your tongue out,” he continues. “Did you gain revenge?”

  Staring at him, I see that there's a kind of anger in his eyes now.

  “Revenge is one of the most vital of all human emotions,” he adds. “When someone does something to you, it's natural to want to make them pay. Those who preach forgiveness are just... self-deceiving fools. There are no lengths to which I would not go, in my pursuit of those who have wronged me. Do you not feel the same?”

  “She's dead,” I try to mouth to him, hoping he'll understand.

  “Never mind,” he mutters. “I suppose I wanted to talk to you, because it's the closest thing right now to talking to Asher. You know her better than anyone else in this miserable town, don't you?”

  He pauses, and I swear I can see a hint of admiration in his gaze as he stares at the fire. If I didn't know better, I'd start to wonder whether he really wants to kill Asher or whether, instead, he wants to somehow get her on his side. At the same time, it's hard to believe that he could feel that way after just a few days here at Steadfall.

  “I need to be alone,” he says finally, clearly troubled by something. “Go. I shouldn't have...”

  His voice trails off, but I quickly hurry past him and head out into the darkness. I half expect Harold to call me back, but when I look over my shoulder I see that he's still in the doorway, still staring down at the fire. For a man who seems to have taken control of Steadfall so easily, a short conversation about Asher appears to have brought a remarkable change. Maybe it's just because they both fought in the war, but I can't shake the feeling that his interest in her is somehow deeper and more fundamental.

  “You look exhausted,” Olivia says suddenly, coming over and putting a hand on my arm. “You should sleep.”

/>   Turning to her as she guides me across the clearing, I see that she's smiling. How can she be so calm, after everything that's happening here?

  “There's a sickness here in the camp,” she explains, as she leads me to one of the other huts. “We've started to isolate people who've been affected. There are ten who are ill right now, plus Mary and Emma who died. I think we're starting to get on top of it, though. Harold has put some new rules in place, and hopefully the disease, whatever it is, won't spread to anyone else. Things were looking bad for a while, but now -”

  Suddenly she coughs, and she immediately looks at her hands, as if she's checking for blood. Seeing none, however, she forces another smile.

  “It's nothing,” she tells me, swallowing hard. “Iris, I know a lot must seem to have changed while you were away, but sometimes change is necessary. Things just weren't working out with Asher, but it's not our fault that she reacted so badly in the end. Honestly, if Harold hadn't showed up to take the lead, I think the whole of Steadfall would have collapsed. We must simply mourn Asher and move on.” Stopping as we reach the entrance to one of the huts, she turns and kisses my forehead. “Now go to sleep, like Harold said. He has our best interests at heart, and tomorrow's the start of a new dawn.”

  I watch as she walks away across the dark clearing, and I can't help feeling as if she – like everyone else here – has lost her mind. Harold seems to have them all on his side, as if they don't suspect a thing, and it's clear that I need to be smart if I'm going to make the others see the truth. Turning and looking out toward the dark forest, however, I can't shake the feeling that despite everything I heard tonight, Asher is still out there somewhere. She wouldn't let herself get dragged out of her own town and killed. Harold's right. She's way too smart for that.

  Glancing back across the clearing, I can just about see Harold, still standing in a distant doorway and staring at the fire. Whatever he's planning, I need to find a way to get rid of him fast. First, though, I need to work out how to find Asher.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Asher

  “Nearly there!” Deckard calls back to me as we continue to wriggle through the narrow gap. “I can feel fresh air on my face!”

  I open my mouth to ask if he's sure, but suddenly I realize that the darkness up ahead seems a little fuzzier somehow. Twisting around and pulling myself through the next gap, I hear Deckard gasping as his silhouette slips out of view, and then I tumble after him, finally landing on the cold, wet grass. Rolling onto my back, I look up and see to my astonishment that we made it out.

  Above, a blanket of stars fills the night sky.

  “There,” Deckard grunts, “did you... Did you ever really doubt me?”

  Turning, I'm shocked to see the extent of his injuries. A heavy black wound has crushed part of his chest, just below the left side of his collarbone, with blood glistening in the moonlight. There's another wound a little further up, on the side of his neck, with more blood dribbling down.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Me? I'm fine, but what about -”

  “Are you sure?”

  Looking down at my chest, I realize that somehow, almost miraculously, I made it out with no broken bones or blast wounds. Scratches, sure, and more aches to add to the list, but I'm basically fine. Turning to Deckard again, however, I can't shake the nagging fear that his injuries are far more serious.

  “We have to get you fixed up,” I tell him.

  “Later.”

  “Deckard -”

  “There's no time,” he says firmly, and it's clear that although he knows I'm right, he's not going to stop to treat his injuries. “Anyway, what would you fix me up with?” He tries to move, but instead he lets out a gasp of pain as he slumps back against the grass. “The plan worked. That's the main thing.”

  “Seriously?” I reply. “In what possible way was that your plan?”

  “They think we're dead, don't they?” he replies, forcing a faint smile even though his eyes are filled with fear. “Right about now, Ben and Leanne will be getting back to Steadfall and telling Harold that they saw us die. More importantly, that they saw you die. He'll be bolder now that he thinks you're gone, he'll start taking risks, and that's when he'll start to become vulnerable. We only get one chance to take him down, but that's one more chance than we had earlier.”

  “You're bleeding,” I tell him, reaching out to touch the wound on his chest before thinking better of it. I don't even know where to begin when it comes to dealing with an injury on this scale.

  “They have guns and grenades,” he replies, sounding a little weaker than before, “and probably more besides. I'm pretty sure they had some kind of night-vision back there, otherwise they never would've been so accurate with their weapons. One thing we can count on, Asher, is that they're definitely not following the rules of the island. They were sent here to do a job, and they'll go to any lengths to get it finished. We're just lucky Harold's a psychopath, or the whole town would be dead by now.”

  “How do we fight back?” I ask. “We only have knives and rocks. It's like a pair of prehistoric cavemen going up against modern soldiers.”

  “Speak for yourself,” he replies, starting to laugh before the pain kicks in again. He winces and tries to sit up, but after a moment he has to settle back down. “I'm not going to be very mobile right now,” he continues, “but that doesn't mean I'm useless. Help me up.”

  I shake my head. “You need to rest and -”

  “Fine!” he hisses, pushing me away. “I'll help myself up!”

  He lets out a grunt as he tries to get to his feet, and finally I put an arm around him, figuring that I have no option but to help. As he leans against the rock-face, however, I suddenly feel a little dizzy.

  “Asher,” a voice whispers, “don't leave me.”

  I freeze, instantly recognizing that voice.

  “Mads?” I whisper, turning and looking across the moonlit patch of grass. There's no sign of her, of course, but at the same time I feel as if a long-forgotten memory is somehow leeching back into my mind. I was with Mads when she died. I'd forgotten until now, but she was hurt, she was really hurt, and there was blood all over -

  “Asher?” Deckard says suddenly.

  Turning to him, I feel a shiver pass through my chest.

  “Are you okay there?” he asks. “Looked like you were zoning out for a moment.”

  “I'm fine,” I reply, not wanting to admit that I lost my focus. There'll be time for memories later. “We don't have long, though.” I glance around one more time, but there's definitely no sign of Mads. For some reason that I still don't quite understand, my memory seems to have been triggered by something, and now thoughts of the war are slipping back to me piece by piece. “Carly said ten people were sick now,” I continue, turning back to Deckard as I once again tell myself to focus on what's happening right now. For a moment, however, I can't help thinking about Carly's death. “They're cowards,” I mutter, feeling a flash of anger. “They shot her in the back.”

  “Don't let anger rule you,” Deckard replies. “We'll deal with Ben and Leanne when the time comes, but Harold's the one who's in charge. If we can bring him down, the other two should be relatively easy.”

  “We can't just go charging in,” I point out. “Even if he lets his guard down a little, Harold isn't going to make any huge mistakes. He's too smart.”

  “That's why we have to plan carefully,” Deckard tells me. “They have proper weapons, which means our only advantage is the fact that they think we're dead. As soon as we blow that advantage, we're back where we started.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but for a moment I feel as if Mads is close. Turning, I look across the darkness and spot a figure on the ground, writhing in agony. I want to go to her, to help her somehow, but I blink a couple of times and she quickly disappears.

  “Asher!” Deckard says firmly. “Stay with me!”

  “I am!” I stammer, turning to him.

  “
You're not,” he continues. “You're losing it, I can tell. Whatever's going on in that head of yours, you need to stay focused on the situation we're dealing with. There'll be time to daydream later!”

  I glance at the spot where I thought I saw Mads, but of course there's no sign of her now.

  “Sure,” I mutter, turning back to Deckard. “I'm fine.”

  “Flashbacks?”

  I shake my head, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that he's not convinced.

  “We need to scout the place out,” he continues, limping forward through the darkness. He's clearly in agony, and when I try to support him, I find that he accepts my help. For the first time ever.

  “And then what?” I ask.

  “And then we come up with an amazingly brilliant plan,” he replies, “that wipes that son of a bitch off the island for good.” He glances at me. “I get it, Asher. Sometimes I used to have trouble focusing. I used to let my mind wander and I'd end up staring into space while I was thinking about my wife, about what might have happened to her after she reached the island. Sometimes the past is just too tempting.”

  “Your wife might still be alive,” I point out, as we make our way across the sloping rocky ground.

  “You don't believe that and neither do I,” he replies, “but after all of this is over, I have to go and find out for sure.” We walk on for a moment, and I can tell from his pained gasps that he's in agony. “She used to have this little tattoo,” he continues with a faint smile, “on her left shoulder. It was a picture of a boat that we saw once when we were on vacation. We promised ourselves that one day we'd buy a boat just like that and sail around the world. I couldn't believe it when she got that tattoo, but she said it was to remind us of our dreams. We had no chance of ever being able to afford something like that, of course, but the hope kept us going through the darkest days. Until she finally snapped, anyway.”

  “I'm sure there's a chance you'll find her,” I tell him.