I’m in the mountain exhibit at the zoo.
The laughter at my capture dies down just as a large figure emerges from the cave behind Duke. It’s the guy with the strong, square jaw.
“Nice work, Panthers!” he shouts, stepping into the crowd.
Strong Jaw and Henry fist-bump.
Duke joins in. “Two down, four to go,” he says, then sets his dark eyes on me. “And tell me… Why is it you’ve come so willingly… What’s her name?” He looks to Shiloh.
“Olive. My name is Olive.” Duke’s eyes glaze over.
He glances down, laughing a little under his breath. It oddly reminds me of Will. Then, staring back at me, Duke raises his eyebrows and sneers. “So, Olive, why weren’t you tied up and dragged here like the others?”
“We made a deal for Charlie. He was—”
“What? What deal? We don’t make deals!” Duke shouts at everyone.
Shiloh scoots closer to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. Please, just listen.” She pulls him away so all I can hear are murmurs.
They quietly go back and forth until Duke yells, “Fine! Take her and tie her up with the boy.” He rubs his temples and strides back into the cave.
I’m picked up by the armpits. Henry and Strong Jaw not-so-gently carry me away toward the boy I assume—hope—is Lewis.
Please, please let him be okay.
Like a rag-doll, I’m carried into the cave where darkness swallows me. It isn’t until my eyes adjust that I see there are torches lighting a never-ending rock hallway that dips deep down into the mountain. I’m Alice descending on a crueler version of Wonderland, and this is one messed up rabbit’s hole.
At the end of the tunnel, we enter a large cavern, a single fire in the middle, three more tunnels leading off the room.
I’m beginning to grasp the appeal of this place. It’s like our cave-tree, but high up, out of reach from most animals and us, their enemies. Just as I’m thinking on the weather and wondering how cold it gets way up in the clouds at night, something on the far wall catches my eye. Written in chicken scratch on the stone is a large list. The letters are red.
Lifeblood
1. Loyalty—Panthers who stray are left behind.
2. Superiority—This island is ours and ours alone.
3. Revenge—Those deserving will meet their punishment.
My eyes linger on number three, then I’m dropped to the ground. They tie me to a huge rock next to a quiet lump that must be Lewis.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum leave—no doubt going to consult with the Mad Hatter, the Queen of Hearts, and one of those wildling flying monkeys who’s escaped from Oz to join the effort.
Does Alice lose her mind in Wonderland? There are probably entire books on that subject.
Once their footsteps have dissolved into the rock walls, I nudge at Lewis. “Hey,” I whisper. “Lewis, can you hear me?”
Silence.
“Lewis?” It comes out as a fearful whine and I kick some part of his body harder than I should.
“Ow,” I hear.
“Damn it, Lewis. You scared me.” I kick him again.
“Ow, quit it.” His forehead and squinting eyes peek up out of the shadows. “Are they gone?” he asks, his voice barely registering, muffled beneath a scrap of material over him. “They think I’ve passed out or something.”
“Yes, they’re gone.”
Lewis exhales as if he’s been holding his breath for days. “Good.” His hands tied at his waist, he leans up onto his elbows, coming out from under the fabric like a turtle poking out of its shell. He’s still squinting and I notice he looks different.
“Your glasses—”
“Broken. Figure it was about time, I mean, it’s a miracle they ever lasted this long.”
“Can you see?”
“It isn’t so bad.” But he strains his eyes to see me. “The dark doesn’t help.” Lewis takes a good, most likely blurry, look around the room, then rounds back at me, shaking his head. “What happened? How’d you end up here? Where’s Charlie? The others?”
Ugh, where do I start? My stomach instantly aches.
“So much has happened. We’re in trouble.” He scoots closer, clears his throat, and stares at me, waiting for the explanation I can’t find the words to articulate. “Charlie got sick. He’s allergic to coconut—”
“No kidding?”
“Yeah. He’s really sick and when I left him to search for fire-building stuff, the Panthers found him, then me.” I drop my head toward the floor. “I didn’t have a choice. They were going to throw him off a cliff because he was dead weight, so I made a deal.” I swallow, keeping my head down because I can’t look at him for the next part. “It was me they wanted—payback for Jack. Plus, they already knew where the cave-tree was, and—”
“Wait. How did they know where the cave-tree was?”
I glance up. “Because you told them. I mean, no one blames you, you had no—”
“Olive, I didn’t tell them. They kicked me around, broke my glasses, and eventually hit me over the head and brought me here, but I never told them.”
There’s silence between us as I realize what’s happened. What I’ve done.
“Olive?”
No.
My stomach no longer aches, it whirls.
I’m spinning.
The entire cave tosses in circles around me, and all I can do is shake my head as hot tears I can’t begin to hold back pop from the corners of my eyes.
“It’s all my fault,” I say, staring up at the ceiling.
“What’s your fault?” Lewis asks from some far-off place.
The spinning stops with a jolt like someone pulled the safety lever on a nightmare of a carnival ride.
“What’s your fault?” he repeats, louder, closer.
“I led them right to our front door.” I stare into his eyes because I can’t escape the truth, not now. “Shiloh told me you showed her where the cave-tree was, that they already knew. But… God damn it!” I kick my feet against the rock floor. “Once we’d gotten to where they found you, she had me lead the way as part of the deal. I was supposed to act like I was leaving the Lions, switching sides. If I did that, they’d let Charlie go back to the cave-tree so Tilly could take care of him.”
“And you did it?”
I nod. “If I didn’t go along with it, they said they’d blow our home up.” I kick my heels into the floor again. “Of course, that was a lie, too. They didn’t know where our home was… But they do now.”
And that’s when we hear it.
A dying bird shrieks across the sky.
A sharp crackle pops in the distance like a firework, tearing a wound down the center of my heart.
The crackling is followed by the ka-boom of an exploding coconut bomb.
Celebration ensues: laughter, cheering, running footsteps.
Chapter Thirty-One
Punishment
It’s been days since the explosion that may or may not have destroyed our cave-tree and everyone in it. I seesaw back and forth between numb robot and emotional basket-case.
Worse, I can’t escape the horrible images of Bug and Charlie, Will, Jude and Tilly all sprawled out along the forest, blown to pieces…
The dreams are worse—so real—when the cave is still and the island sleeps. It’s the same scene each time: from high on a cliff, I see my family, their bodies bloodied and broken, but I’m unharmed. Then an arm wraps around my shoulders and Duke cackles in my ear. “We did it,” he says, then sneers.
I wake in a cold sweat on the verge of hyperventilation, sit up, take in my surroundings, and remember where I am. All of that, only to fall back asleep to the same nightmare. It plays on repeat like a bad movie marathon. I fear my wounded heart can’t take it any longer. Each night it tears a little deeper. Bleeds a little faster.
The only Panther who’s acknowledged us thus far is Strong Jaw Guy—Noah, we figured out was his name after hearing Shiloh argue with h
im over the fire. I’ve tried talking to him each time he brings us food. But all he grants me in return is dried mystery meat and silence.
Lewis and I live in eternal darkness, unknowing of the time of day, whether it’s cloudy or if there’s a full moon. I miss the sun, the stars, the breeze, the smell of ocean mixed with forest. This place smells like sulfur, dirt, and death.
His mouth open in a wide yawn, Lewis stretches his body out into a long plank and begins exercising. It’s his wake-up ritual, so it must be morning. Or, so he thinks. Hands and feet tied, he attempts awkward sit-ups and leg lifts, convinced if we get out of this dark cave of despair, there will be a fight.
While Lewis pants, struggling to do backward push-ups with his wrists tied together behind his rear, we hear the familiar footsteps of Noah. For some reason, he barely lifts his feet from the ground, so his steps sweep and swoosh against the floor like a heavy broom.
As with the last two mornings, he brings us water and a small meal of unidentifiable meats and, of course, coconut, a reminder of Charlie and the horrible deal I made with people I should have known wouldn’t keep to their end of the bargain.
“Either of you need to go?” Noah asks, dropping our breakfast on the floor before us.
We shake our heads in unison. Yes, they’re feeding us, but it isn’t much and water is even more scarce. Lewis says they’re making a point, punishing us by depriving us, showing their power. And I believe him. From what I’ve observed, these Panthers, while royally messed up kids, are just that—kids. When stripped of their anger and tough exterior, I bet they’re not much different than Lewis and me.
With his broom of a foot, Noah kicks our bowls closer to us, not doing much for the pounding I’m desperately fighting in my head. Then he nods and leaves us to eat without use of our hands, bending to the floor and slopping our food like animals.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lewis asks, mouthful of slop in his cheek.
With the sweetness of coconut turning my stomach over, I answer by pushing my portion away with my foot, because right now, I’m in emotional basket-case mode with no end in sight.
“If you don’t eat, you’re going to die and then what?” He shrugs, eyes wide, waiting for the sad lump I’ve become to speak.
“We’re all dying eventually, Lewis. Does it really matter?” It’s harsh, but I can’t get past this thick, desolate cage of misery I’m in. Unfortunately for him, he’s stuck here with me.
“It matters to me,” he murmurs under his breath. Turning away, I curl into myself, assuming the same position I’ve been in for far too long.
I appreciate his words but don’t respond. I don’t deserve any of it. Not coconut. Not the sun or stars. Not the breeze. Not Lewis’s kind words.
But I don’t get to make those choices.
What I do or don’t deserve is in the hands of other people. People who hate me. People who think the only thing I’m deserving of is punishment. They want revenge. And it’s coming.
I know it’s coming.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Heroes and Bullies
“Shiloh’s from some small town in Spain, ahead of your time—” Lewis raises his eyebrows as if he can’t fathom it. “She’s the one making the bombs, some sort of child genius. Also, pretty brazen. She was with a group of girls who had snuck out of their boarding school the night she got here. They were chased, nearly caught, but managed to hop a train where they met up with a group of guys one of them knew. No details after that except they tried to get into a club, but instead, she ended up on the island. She was the first of Duke’s members.”
We’ve been alone all day, and Lewis is ignoring my balled-up body language, rambling on about what he overheard while pretending to sleep. Each night, the Panthers gather around the fire for a meeting. But since I arrived, and Lewis “woke up,” they’ve conducted the meetings in hushed whispers.
Before that, they mused over how they had ended up here, trying to crack some code that would get them home. But Lewis said it was bizarre, more like giving thanks and less like brainstorming. And it gets weirder. They still perform their closing ceremony and not at all quietly: they stand, closed into a tight circle, and recite their Lifeblood laws. We’ve entered into some bizarre teen cult. If they start passing out Kool-Aid, I’m tossing my own body over the cliff.
“Tommy is from Hawaii, closer to Will’s time.” Lewis goes on like he’s checking off a mental list. Trying to puzzle things together. “He and Jack were runaways, but also pretty skilled at skateboarding and surfing.” That sort of explains the jumping from tree to tree and gravity defying balance. Wildlings. “It’s how they made money to get by. Doing tricks and entering competitions. Apparently, their next gig was going to be to ride a dangerously tall wave, hoping to make a name for themselves or prove something. They paddled out to sea, got cold feet once they saw how huge it was, and high-tailed it back to shore. Except it wasn’t the same shore. Duke found them washed up on the beach.”
“And Henry?” I bite my lip, remembering I’m punishing myself and should be silent.
“Henry?” I can tell Lewis is smiling. He clears his throat. “Henry’s from closer to my time and grew up in a rough neighborhood in New York City. According to conversations between him and Noah, they were friends and came here together—kind of like Will and Duke. They’d fallen into a gang, made the wrong people angry, and were running for their lives from a car full of guys shooting at them. They ducked into an alleyway and, well, you can guess what happened…”
“They ended up here.” I open out of my ball slightly.
He nods, staring off toward the fire, thinking, squinting. “I swear we’re closer to figuring it out, finding the common denominator that will get us home. But there’s still something missing.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask, giving up on being silent.
“Yes, please share. What are you thinking?” Shiloh cuts in. She hovers above us, long hair draped over one eye like a black curtain.
Lewis and I bite our tongues.
“Oh, come on, Olive. We’re friends, remember?” The way she says it, all fake-sweet and high-toned, reminds me of Lesley and makes me want to kick her again. Something in me snaps.
I sit up. “We are not your friends and you know it. I kept my end of the deal and you totally broke yours!”
“You didn’t see that coming?” She narrows those mossy eyes, flipping her hair off her shoulder.
“I should have… I should have told Will the truth. He’d have—”
“He’d have what?” Duke asks.
I gasp. Damn it.
Yet again, he’s appeared out of nowhere. The ghost. Dark marks under his eyes, shadows over his face that gives him the appearance of a floating skull.
“Please, enlighten me. What would truthful, honest, good ol’ Will have done? He does always do the right thing, doesn’t he?” All I can do is stare, my heart in my throat because the guy scares the shit out of me. Duke smiles wildly back at me. He’s up to something. “No? Well, that good boy act doesn’t fool anyone, but I don’t have to tell you, do I? I’m sure you both know all about our Will.” Duke raises one eyebrow.
Our Will?
“He isn’t who he claims to be, now is he?” Duke sits down next to us. I try to scoot away a bit. Then Shiloh leans down, whispers something in his ear, smirks at me, and leaves.
Lewis glares at her back.
“Huh, you two still seem confused. How about I remind you of the story in case you’ve forgotten. I’m sure he’s shared it with his fellow Lions—Will, always one to be honest, and all.” Duke takes a moment to stare at us. To breathe. To draw out this God-awful moment to be in his presence.
And to think I had the half-assed idea I could somehow get to know him. Make peace? As I stare back, I can’t see how that would ever be on the table. Maybe defending ourselves, fighting back when necessary, is the only way. Though the idea feels gross against my mind.
Duke sits up stra
ighter. “The night Will and I entered the island through the corn maze, I was running from him, not the other way around. You see, sweet, compassionate Will gave poor little David—or Mule as Will and his friends so lovingly called me—daily beatings.”
Both Lewis and I yell in protest then Duke puts his hand up.
“Think about it!” he shouts. “Look at how much bigger, stronger Will is. Does he really have you all believing I want to rule this island and that’s why I fight?” Duke lets out a long hyena laugh, raising his thin eyebrows so they nearly reach his hairline. “While, yes, the island would be much more pleasant without Will and his good-time gang, what I want is revenge. To rid this island of Will and anyone who follows his lies—something I didn’t have the power to do back home. That’s what I want—and what I’ll eventually achieve.”
“I refuse to believe it.” I shake my head and scoot away.
Lewis stares from me to Duke and back.
With a burst of quick movement, Duke makes up the space I’ve put between us.
“You think this—THIS—stands for Panthers?” He shoves his chest and the “P” in my face. “Think again.” He sits back, wrapping his arms around his middle and glares into the fire. “It’s an old scar. One of many. This one just happens to show on my skin.” Duke bows his head down to the floor. When he looks back up at us, I swear, the Mad Hatter has the shine of tears in his eyes. “I was running from Will, his bat, his beatings, that night in the maze.”
I open my mouth to argue because he’s a jerk and a liar but an image of Will fills my head and I can’t see anything else. That day he took me over the cliff and the story he confided in me. The story of how he’d found the spot searching for a place to end his life, how his childhood wasn’t ideal. Had he been trying to tell me something? He said he “wasn’t the person he could have been.” Though, isn’t that true for everyone? Couldn’t we all do better?
Duke swipes the undersides of his eyes with his knuckles, smearing the black war paint across his cheeks so they look like ink blots. He stands.
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