Persona (The Island Book 2)

by Amy Cross

  He's wrong, he has to be.

  At the same time, I can hear a voice calling to me from far away. Mads is crying out, terrified and in pain, on some distant battlefield. This time, however, there's another voice, telling me to give him cover.

  “You remember,” Harold says finally.

  I shake my head.

  “Yes,” he continues, “you do.”

  “No,” I stammer, taking a step back with the gun still aimed at his face. “You're trying to make me remember things that didn't happen...”

  “You don't really believe that,” he says with a smile. “I came to the island so I could find you and take you back to the world. I couldn't admit that, of course. I had to lie and trick my way into a deal that'd let me travel here. Your town was the eighth we destroyed over the past four years. Eight towns, can you imagine that? Humans really seem to want to clump together, even when they're supposedly out here to be free. Must be something in our nature, huh?” He pauses, still watching me intently. “The others had no idea. They thought I wanted nothing more than to kill and destroy. Maybe that's my fault, maybe I enjoyed my work too much, but the war left me with certain... bad habits. Ben, Leanne and Walter believed in the cause. The world never seems to run out of useful idiots, does it? Still, at least they were useful, for a while. So few people even manage that in their miserable lives. But Asher, you and I -”

  He steps closer.

  “Stop!” I shout, still holding the gun in my trembling hand. “You're just -”

  Before I can finish, the helicopter swoops low and fast over us, racing back out to sea and then starting to turn around.

  “I wonder what my friends make of this,” Harold continues, as his smile grows. Behind him, the helicopter is already heading back this way. “When they see me on the beach, with a gun pointed at me, I'm sure they understand the situation. And they'll help me test that you haven't lost that old fighting edge that I remember so well. You have no idea how much I've missed seeing you in combat. It's almost an art-form, Asher.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but suddenly I see something moving beneath the helicopter. In a flash, I realize it's a gun assembly.

  Suddenly Harold ducks out of the way. I turn and run, just as the helicopter opens fire. Energy blasts crash into the sand all around me, but I manage to throw myself past the tree-line and into the forest as the helicopter flashes overhead. With my heart pounding, I stumble to my feet and look up, watching as the helicopter turns around and heads back this way. I start to run, desperately trying to get further into the forest so I won't be seen, but the helicopter opens fire and I dive for cover as blasts crash into the trees all around me. Fortunately I don't take any direct hits, although one shot hits a dirt bank just a few feet away. As the helicopter turns and starts coming around for another attack, I get to my feet and race between the trees, but seconds later the air is once again filled with blasts, and this time one of them glances against my waist. I pull away and slam into a tree, which sends me dropping to the ground. Breathless and desperately trying not to panic, I look up and -

  Something crashes into the back of my head, knocking me to the ground. Dazed, I turn just in time to see Harold standing over me, and he quickly slams the heel of his boot against my face.

  “You have to learn to take your chances when you get them,” he grunts, grabbing my arms and starting to haul me back through the forest.

  I try to twist free, but I'm in too much pain and I can barely even stay conscious.

  “If you came to find me,” I gasp, “why do you keep trying to kill me?”

  “To test you,” he replies, dragging me to the edge of the tree-line and then down onto the beach. “I had to make sure that you were still you, but you passed every test with flying colors. You've survived everything I've thrown at you, and that's proof that the real, old Asher is still alive. We just have to get you home and help you recover the rest of your memories. And then we'll make our move against the monsters who sent us off to war in the first place. One by one, we'll make them pay for everything they did to us!”

  Dropping me onto the sand, he turns and waves at the helicopter, which starts to descend above us, getting closer and closer as its blade whip the air into a frenzy.

  “It's time to get out of here, Asher!” Harold shouts, so I can hear him above the sound of the engines. “You'll thank me later, I promise. I'm rescuing you from the pit of your own oblivion. I mean, seriously, were you seriously trying to run an entire town? I understand that you needed to divert your mind to some practical project, but I think you went a little too far. What was that place called again? Starfall? Sadfall?”

  “Steadfall,” I murmur, struggling to stay conscious as I feel Harold picking me up. Before I can react, I feel myself being loaded onto the helicopter and pushed across the cold metal floor. I reach out, but my hands are too weak to grab hold of anything. “It's called... Steadfall...”

  “This reminds me of our great escape from Talton V,” he tells me. “You don't remember that yet, but you will. It was one of our finest moments during the war. We were heroes, Asher, but they stole that away from us. They had their drugs and their needles, and they made us forget everything that happened!” He turns toward the helicopter's two pilots. “Get us out of here!”

  “No,” I stammer, trying to roll back out, but I'm shoved further on-board and all I can do is watch helplessly as Harold climbs in to join me. I reach over toward the door, just as he slides it shut. When I try to grab the handle to pull the door back open, Harold shoves me further across the floor.

  “You don't belong on the island, Asher!” he continues. “I understand why you ran away, but it's time to go back and face those bastards! Phillips, Logan, Montreath and all the others, I've tracked them down. One by one we're going to make them pay for how they treated all of us, all the soldiers who were used in that war and then tossed aside! And when we're done with them, we'll move up and deal with the real hypocrites, the people in power! The revolution's finally coming, Asher, and we're going to be right at the eye of the storm!””

  Again I reach for the door, as the helicopter rises from the ground. I see the tops of the trees far below us, and I quickly realize that we're about to head back over the island and then toward the mainland. For a moment, everything starts fading to black, but I force myself to sit up just as the helicopter swings out toward the sea and then dips, turning fast so it can speed back across the island.

  “I'm going to need to get this checked out,” Harold mutters, wincing as he examines the wound on his shoulder. “I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're such a good shot, since -”

  Turning, I slam my weight against the glass partition that separates us from the two pilots in the front of the helicopter. The glass holds, however, and I simply slump back down, but somehow I find the strength to try again and again, finally letting out a grunt of pain as I fall to the floor for the fourth or fifth time.

  “There's no point fighting this,” Harold continues. “Be smart, Asher. I'm sure you had fun on the island, maybe it was even therapeutic for you in some crazy way, but those days are over now. I couldn't let you rot there for the rest of your life, that would have been obscene. The people of the world need us to make a stand and change things!”

  Forcing myself to sit up, I look around, hoping desperately that I'll spot some kind of weapon that has been just tossed aside. There's nothing, of course, but after a moment I see a fire extinguisher tucked under one of the seats. It's big, it's heavy, and it's better than nothing.

  “Asher -”

  Grabbing the extinguisher, I'm about to pull out the pin when I realize that the main nozzle arm might be more useful. Using all my remaining strength, I twist the nozzle free, and sure enough the broken end is sharp enough to use as a weapon.

  “Asher!” Harold says firmly, as if he suddenly senses danger. “You need to grow up and remember who you really are! We're on the same side here, I came all this way to fetch you! W
hat do you think you're going to achieve by -”

  Letting out an angry cry, I throw myself at him. The helicopter lurches, flashing over the forest, but I manage to land directly on top of Harold and drive the broken metal shard into his belly. He gasps, and I see pure shock in his eyes as I twist the shard and then pull it out.

  “She doesn't have the killer instinct,” I hear a voice whispering in my ear, from my days at the training academy. “She always hesitates.”

  “Asher,” Harold gasps, “it's me! We're friends, remember? We both hate the same -”

  I drive the shard into Harold's belly again, then again and again, stabbing him as hard as I can. With each thrust, I move a little further up his body until I drive the shard into his chest. He stares back at me, his eyes filled with shock, but when he puts his hands on my arms I immediately realize that he's too weak to fight back.

  “They took our memories,” he whispers. “Without those, we're not ourselves. I can give you all your memories back, Asher. I can make you... I can... make you... remember who you really are...”

  The pilots are shouting from up-front, but I don't care if they manage to break through and shoot me. All that matters right now is that I make Harold pay, and I slowly start twisting the shard in his chest. No matter what I do, however, he doesn't scream or beg for mercy, and he doesn't even try to push me back. With blood running from one side of his mouth, he simply stares at me with an expression of confusion, as if he can't believe I'm doing this even as I continue to drive the shard into his belly.

  “They tossed us aside after the war,” he whispers finally, sounding weaker than before. “We can... Asher, we have to make them pay for...”

  Suddenly the helicopter takes a sharp turn, sharp enough to send both of us clattering off the seat and down onto the floor. I lose my grip on the metal shard, which tumbles away, and then I turn to see Harold bleeding profusely and clutching his gut. His blood is sloshing around on the metal floor now as the helicopter tips one way and then the other, and I can tell the pilots are trying to knock me off my feet. Turning, I see that one of them is frantically trying to get the partition open, and then I glance back at Harold and find that he's staring calmly at me, although blood-loss is making him look increasingly pale.

  Struggling to the door, I try to pull the handle, only to find that it's secured somehow. Filled with panic and determined to get off the helicopter before it's too late, I pull back and lean against one of the seats, and then I start kicking the window. Just when I'm starting to think I might have to try something else, the glass cracks a little, and then it shatters when I give it one final kick. The helicopter tilts around, and I know I don't have long left. Crawling through Harold's blood, I reach the broken window and then start to haul myself out.

  “Stop!” Harold calls out.

  Looking over my shoulder, I see that he's reaching out to me.

  “Asher, we can fight them!” he stammers, with more and more blood pouring from his belly and chest. “It's not just us, there are others too!”

  I want to grab the metal shard into his gut again, to really finish him off, but he's clearly going to die before he can get medical attention. Instead, I look out the window one last time and see the tops of the trees flashing past below the helicopter, and then I haul myself through the gap. I know this is probably suicide, but I'd rather die on the island than live on the mainland. I belong here now, away from the rest of the world and away from anyone who wants me to remember my past. As the tree-tops flash beneath us, I drag myself out through the broken window.

  “Asher, I know who we were fighting!” Harold shouts. “Asher, they lied to us! Asher, listen to me!”

  Without even hesitating, I throw myself clear of the helicopter.

  For a moment, I tumble through clear air. If this is my last moment, if this is how I die, then at least -

  Slamming into the tree-tops, I immediately feel branches snapping under my weight. After a couple of seconds, however, I hit part of a trunk, and this time my entire body shudders as the impact sends me deeper into the forest below. Hundreds of broken branches scratch my face and tear my clothes, and I feel bone after bone being shattered as I fall through the trees, until finally everything goes black.

  I'm unconscious before I hit the ground. Ghosts are waiting for me in the dark. Ghosts and memories.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Iris

  Three months later

  “Haul it in!” a voice shouts. “Haul it in now!”

  Turning, I watch for a moment as several people lug a crop-filled canopy through the town's main gate. I have no idea what, exactly, they've got in there, but I'm sure someone'll manage to turn it into a meal. We still eat a lot of wild rabbit, but at least the diet around here is diversifying a little. Some wild pigs were recently found near the island's eastern shore. I have no idea where they came from, but they've made for a welcome change to the menu.

  “Iris!” George calls out excitedly. “Iris, over here!”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I see him waving at me frantically. He's been busy working on some kind of secret project for a while now, although he was never willing to show anyone what he was doing. Now, however, he suddenly seems keen to share, so I make my way over. When I get around the side of one of the rebuilt huts, I'm surprised to see a large section of wood that he has somehow managed to fashion into a meter-wide disc.

  “It's a wheel!” he says proudly.

  I can't help frowning.

  “I know just one wheel isn't very useful,” he continues, almost breathless with excitement as he holds the disc up for me to get a closer look, “but it's a proof of concept.” He runs a hand along the edge. “See how smooth it is? That took real work, Iris, and craftsmanship! I'll only get faster, too, so I think we might actually end up with wheeled transport! Sure, it'd be great if we had horses to pull them, but at least we can have wheelbarrows!” He waits for me to reply, and it's clear that he's extremely pleased with himself. “What do you think?” he asks finally. “Should I keep going?”

  I pause, before nodding.

  “I can have another one done within the next two weeks,” he explains.

  I nod again, and then I watch as he gets back to work. It's strange to think that a man could be so pleased with himself for making a wheel, but I guess he's right when he says it could have some practical applications. I stick around for a few minutes as he starts cutting more wood, and then I make my way to the other side of the hut and stop for a moment, watching the town as its inhabitants go about their business. It's hard to believe that Steadfall didn't fade away after everything that happened a few months ago, but something about this place seems to keep attracting people. Now that the sickness has passed, we can look to the future. Whatever was in that foul soup that caused people to become ill, it died off, and I didn't get sick even though I fell directly into a pit of the damn stuff. Walter mentioned that it required a few extra ingredients, so I guess I was lucky.

  Meanwhile, we're gaining two or three new arrivals every month. They come from other parts of the island, though, not from further afield. It's been a while now since the helicopters came to drop anyone on the island. Sometimes I wonder whether the rest of the world has forgotten about us.

  I still feel a shiver whenever I head out to the south-east and see the crude cemetery that contains the bodies of everyone we lost. Deckard, Elizabeth, Carly, and so many more... The list is too long, and sometimes I find myself staying awake when I should be asleep, going over and over the events of that awful night. There were even times when I felt we should shut the town down as a mark of respect, but eventually I realized Steadfall was somehow taking the decision out of my hands. For reasons that I still can't quite fathom, people seem to believe in the town's ability to survive. It's almost as if Steadfall refuses to die.

  We rebuilt the huts, of course. After all the bodies had been taken out and identified, we started again with every building in the entire town. It w
as a tough job, but somehow we got it done. I just wish Asher was able to see it, and to help out. Everyone talks about her all the time, and a lot of people have faith that one day she'll be among us again.

  I'm not so sure.

  “Any news?” a voice asks.

  Turning, I see that Miranda is working nearby, peeling the skin off a duck.

  I shake my head.

  “Asher's strong,” she continues. “If anyone can come back from what happened, it's her. We all know that.”

  I want to ask her what she means, exactly, by that word. Strong? What really makes a person strong? I sure as hell don't feel strong, and I'm not sure Asher would feel particularly strong right now, if she could feel anything at all. A moment later, however, I realize that someone is waving at me, and I turn to see that Olivia is trying to get my attention from one of the other huts.

  “Asher's going to be fine,” Miranda continues, as if she thinks she can make it true simply by saying the words. “I know it. I feel it deep down.”

  Making my way across the busy clearing, I finally reach the hut where Olivia is waiting in the doorway. Before she can even say anything, however, I can see from the expression in her eyes that there's no good news.

  Slipping past her, I step into the hut and see Asher's unconscious body still laid out on a crude, makeshift bed. The light in here isn't very strong, but when I get closer I realize that the thick bruises covering her entire body have barely changed since the last time I was here. When we finally found Asher after she'd fallen from the helicopter, I honestly thought she was dead. She had so many broken bones, so many cuts and tears, she looked less like a human being and more like a chunk of meat that had fallen from the sky. Somehow, however, she's managed to cling to life long past the point where most people would have given up. She's stayed unconscious, most likely comatose, but her body refuses to die.

  Her mind, on the other hand, shows no signs of life.