The Feral Sentence- Complete Box Set

by Shade Owens

  Fisher was right, but at the same time, I knew that had Mia been one of us—one of the Hunters—Fisher would never have suggested we abandon her simply to get ahead.

  “We need food,” Fisher went on. “Water. More weapons. We can’t stay here.”

  The sound of rain flooding the jungle finally stopped and was replaced by a gentle trickling. Light shone through a curtain of vines, forming short yellow strips inside the rock shelter. For a moment, it even felt warm.

  “Fisher’s right,” Ellie said. She peered outside, then back at us. “We’re probably in the eye of the storm right now. If we don’t move, who knows how long it’ll take for the storm to pass, which means we won’t be able to hunt.”

  “You heard the woman, let’s go!” Fisher said.

  “No!” shouted Mia’s friend. She threw her arms around Mia and began sobbing. “She’s not dead. I can hear her heart. She’s not dead!”

  I didn’t want to disobey Fisher, but at the same time, she wasn’t my leader—at least not in an official hierarchal sense. I couldn’t let someone die.

  “What’s your name?” I asked Mia’s friend.

  She glanced up at me with big red eyes. “Impa.”

  I smiled. Seriously? Another reference to The Legend of Zelda?

  “Like an imp?” Franklin scoffed.

  My eyes rolled up to Franklin. “You. Grab her feet.”

  Franklin’s nose crinkled as though I’d asked her to pick up a fresh pile of shit.

  “Now!” I said.

  I hadn’t meant to sound so authoritative, but if I wasn’t the one to step up, no one would. I reached down to grab Mia by the arms when Hammer stepped in. “I got this. We need you up front, Hunter.”

  I was both shocked and reluctant. Was this some sort of trick?

  “I’m sorry about what I did to you,” Hammer said softly. I stared at her, noting the sincerity in her one eye. The other was now nothing more than a slit across a red and blue mass of skin.

  I wanted to say, ‘I’m sorry, too,’ but the words didn’t come out. Instead, I nodded and stepped aside, allowing her to pick up Mia.

  “If you can’t keep up, we’re not waiting.” Fisher glanced at me, before stepping out into the jungle. I followed her closely, my feet sinking a few inches into the mud with every step.

  Fisher turned to me when I caught up. “I hope you know what you’re doing. This could get us all killed.”

  “It won’t.” I peered back at the others, who were all stepping out of the rock shelter, their eyes fixed up at the sunny sky. Hammer and Franklin were the last to come out with Mia in their arms. To my surprise, Impa, Everest, and Ellie stayed close to the duo, prepared to step in if Mia’s dead weight became too much to bear.

  “What would you have done if that was Rocket? Trim?” I asked.

  Fisher worked her jaw.

  “Or Flander? Biggie?”

  She let out a laugh—something I wasn’t expecting.

  “Girl, if that was Biggie, we’d all be helpin’, and we’d all be sinking knee-deep into this mess.” She flicked her toes from side to side, brown goo splashing everywhere.

  I smirked. Although a funny image, she’d just admitted that she’d stop at no length to help a friend.

  “You have heart,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have heart—at least, not much of it. I was only doing what I knew was right.

  “How much farther until we reach the Grounds?” I asked.

  Fisher looked up at the sky and the surrounding trees. “If I’m right, we’re closer than I thought.”

  “Do you really think it’s safe to go back?” I asked.

  “We don’t have much choice,” Fisher said. “It’s the only home we know. I’m hoping there are resources in Murk’s quarters. I’m also counting on the Northers’ impatience. It wouldn’t be like them to sit around and wait for survivors to come back. They’re probably long gone by now.”

  I hoped she was right. The last thing we needed was to march straight into a trap.

  We followed Fisher’s lead through the hollow forest, eyes shooting in every direction as we moved forward. Surprisingly, the women had managed to keep up by sharing the lifting duty.

  “Do you hear that?” Franklin said, running up ahead of us. She turned back around, a yellow grin stretching her face. “Home, sweet home.”

  I could hear the Working Grounds’ waterfall—a powerful roar in the distance.

  “Grab anything you can before we get any closer,” Fisher ordered, sliding the Norther’s mask she’d stolen over her face. “Anything you can use to fight.”

  The women rummaged through rotten debris as they searched for sticks on the forest floor. I prepared my bow, and together, we moved in slowly.

  I remembered this path—although now, it was completely open and colorless, whereas when I’d first been brought to the Working Grounds, we’d tramped through layers upon layers of bushes and plants to make it out into the main area.

  The moment we set foot on the Grounds, it was like looking at an unsaturated image. Everything was completely gray, including the water. It was nothing like it had been before the attack—full of bright greens surrounding the bay of turquoise water.

  Even the sand was gloomy. But something else caught my eye… something far more disturbing than colorless sand and dark water.

  Across the bay’s shore were several ash-coated bodies lying still. Franklin stepped forward, prepared to inspect the graveyard, but Fisher threw a hand across her chest.

  “Wait.”

  Fisher crouched and slithered forward in the mud, scoping out what remained of our home.

  “We move around the edge and go straight into the waterfall,” she ordered, gesturing a loop in the air.

  “But what if—” Franklin tried.

  “There’s nothing you can do for them,” Fisher said. “They’re dead. And if by some miracle one of them isn’t… they will be by nightfall. We can’t walk out into the open like that.”

  We followed Fisher’s lead along the forest trees which had once formed a circular enclosure around the Grounds. Although not completely hidden from sight, now that the trees were nothing more than leafless trunks, it was far safer than exposing ourselves in open space.

  I stared at the bodies as we made our way to the waterfall. Although covered in ash, they didn’t appear to be burned. I wondered if they’d been injured in the Village and had attempted to seek shelter at the Grounds.

  As I observed the scenery, I noticed something else—all stations had been left intact. Had the fire not spread to the Grounds? And then it dawned on me: the waterfall’s mist must have protected its surrounding area from the wildfire’s flames.

  The Needlwomen’s station was still set up at the forest’s edge, across the bed of water. Maybe there were arrows or weapons lying on the ground. And then I saw it.

  Food.

  “Fisher,” I said quickly. “There.”

  Fisher’s eyes lit up. At the edge of the waterfall was the Farmer’s station, which, aside from being drenched, was still in once piece. The garden had flooded, which was to be expected, but the meat’s storage unit—a wooden rack with uneven shelves and an angled roof to protect its contents from the rain—was just fine.

  There were slabs of meat across its top shelf, and beside the rack, a boar’s bloody carcass.

  “Do you think the meat’s still good?” Fisher asked.

  “Ve only put cured or smoked meat on ze top shelf,” Everest said. “I’ll go grab vat’s still safe to eat.”

  She scurried toward the Farmer’s station while remaining as close as possible to the forest’s edge. Fisher led us inside the waterfall. It was as dark and moist as I remembered it.

  I followed Fisher’s broad, fur-outlined figure and the sound of her footsteps, which were delicate and calculated.

  “Do you think she’ll make it?” I whispered.

  Fisher’s head turned toward me. “What?”

&
nbsp; “Mia,” I said. “Without Tegan—”

  But suddenly, Fisher was tackled onto the stone ground, a loud crash resonating throughout the entire cave.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Goddamn Northern piece of s—”

  I heard a punch, and then another, and another.

  “Stop it!”

  “I’ma kill you! You hear me?”

  Another hit.

  “I’m not a N—”

  And another.

  I ran toward the sound of the fight and grabbed whoever was on top, but a hard fist knocked me right in the mouth, pushing my tooth through my bottom lip.

  “Don’t move!”

  The sound of rapid footsteps echoed around us, and dim orange lights spread across the rock ceiling above. There were three of them standing there—one holding a torch in each hand, the others on either side of her pointing hunting spears at us from above their shoulders.

  Fisher was lying flat on her back with someone straddled on top of her.

  “Coin?” Fisher asked, tearing off her mask.

  “Fish?” the woman said. She had dark brown skin and a shaved head with only a narrow strip of hair reaching down to the base of her skull. She was built like a bulldog—short and stocky.

  Franklin ran up to the scene of the fight and grabbed the woman—Coin—by the back of the hair, then raised a fist. Coin’s lip curled up as she anticipated the blow, and I noticed something gold glimmer from inside her mouth—a gold tooth. Coin, I realized.

  “Stop!” Fisher shouted, her words repeated around us in a diminuendo.

  Franklin released her grip, and the rest of our crew caught up, including Everest, who stood clueless with two big pieces of meat in either hand. “Vat’s going on?”

  Coin climbed off Fisher and grabbed her by the arm to help her up. “Yo, I’m sorry, man. I thought you was one of them Northers.”

  Fisher wiped her bloody nose. “No sweat.”

  “You guys are Murk’s women?” I asked.

  Coin nodded. “We barely escaped… I’m sure y’all noticed da bodies out there. We weren’t all so lucky.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fisher said.

  Coin shook her head. “Ain’t nobody to blame but them Northers.”

  “Did you see anyone from my crew? Any Hunters?” Fisher asked.

  “Naw, sorry, man,” Coin said. “It all happened so fast.”

  A deep moan rumbled behind us, and Coin’s eyes followed the sound. “Someone hurt?”

  “Arrow,” Ellie said, popping up beside me. “She’s awake, but the blood is starting up again. We need to lay her down and put pressure on the wound.”

  “Let’s go,” Coin said, throwing her head toward Murk’s quarters.

  I licked the rusty taste of blood from my bottom lip, feeling the split with my tongue. But the warmth of someone’s hand grabbing mine immediately pulled my mind away from the pain.

  “You okay?” Ellie asked.

  “I…” I stuttered. “Yeah. I’m good.”

  She held on a few more seconds before letting go and falling back with Mia, who was now groaning and squirming. I swallowed hard and shook the weakness out of my legs.

  How did Ellie always manage to make me feel so weak?

  When we reached Murk’s quarters, relief and sadness enveloped me. Where was Murk, anyways? Was she dead? Was she hiding? There was a strange emptiness as we walked in—a void that had once been filled by Murk’s presence.

  Hammer and Impa rushed Mia to the back of the room, where a pile of leaves formed a bed. There were torches fastened all around the room, offering a cozy, camp-like atmosphere.

  The woman who’d been carrying the two torches slipped them into empty sconces on the wall, before turning back toward us. “Have a seat.”

  There were blankets of fur positioned sporadically across the floor, and several leaf-constructed beds were lined up against the back wall.

  My attention was suddenly drawn to that wall, where Murk’s chalk drawing was still intact. She’d been staring at it the last time I saw her—a drawing of a gazelle with surrounding birds which supposedly depicted the meaning of freedom on Kormace Island. I remembered thinking that she was probably high, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  I dropped down into one of the fur blankets, appreciating the soft texture against my aching skin. I’d never been so tired in my life. The entire room was filled with a warmth I hadn’t known in days. I listened to the sound of the torches burning—a sound similar to the crisping of paper in a campfire—and I began to drift away.

  * * *

  “Not too long, sweetheart,” my mother said, pulling my marshmallow stick out of my hands. “You see that? That’s all you need. A nice golden color.”

  I slid off my wool-knitted mittens and with my tiny fingers, pulled the melted marshmallow off the stick’s pointed tip.

  My friends at school always thought it strange that every year, on Christmas day, my mother would make it a point to light a fire in our backyard and roast marshmallows, no matter how cold the weather was.

  She’d always dress me up in layers, even if I ended up looking like a marshmallow myself.

  As I sat chewing on the sweet gooey treat, I smiled up at my mother and thought to myself: this is exactly where I want to be on Christmas day.

  * * *

  “Hey, sleepy.”

  Ellie was lying sideways beside me with her head in her palm and a smile on her face. And although I wanted to return the smile, I couldn’t.

  I missed my mom, my friends, my life.

  They were all gone.

  “Hey,” Ellie said, noting the pain in my eyes. She reached a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in against her chest, gently rubbing her fingers through the back of my hair.

  Although I didn’t want to cry, I couldn’t help myself. Everything came pouring out. It hurt so much. I sobbed on and on, my wet face pressed against Ellie’s neck. I reached an arm around her and dug my fingers into her skin.

  I’d never experienced so much pain before.

  “My mom…” I said. “The Hunters… Rocket. Trim… Biggie. Everyone.”

  She stroked my hair and held me tight until the tears finally stopped. I sniffled the snot back up into my nose and pulled back, my eyes fixated on hers.

  “How do you do it?” I asked.

  She smirked at me. “Do what?”

  “Stay so positive all the time.”

  She looked up toward the ceiling and shrugged. “I’ve been here a long time. I went through it too, you know—the grief. You feel like everyone you love in the real world has died because you know you’ll never see them again. And then, people you learn to love on the island do die… But you can’t hold onto it. It doesn’t fix anything.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to start bawling again.

  “There’s a secret, though,” she said.

  My eyes lit up.

  “Hope.”

  “Hope?” I repeated.

  “Exactly,” she said. “Hope. Faith… I refuse to believe that I’ll be stuck in Kormace for the rest of my life. Think about it—if word gets out about the government’s corruption, reporters will be all over that, and eventually, they’ll come back for us.”

  I pondered this for a moment. It had never crossed my mind. My idea of hope had always been to build a raft and hope for the best.

  Maybe Ellie had a point.

  Maybe, despite all the horrors this island had to offer, there was still hope.

  I stared into her soft brown eyes, suddenly feeling reborn. She must have sensed my change in mood, because her thick lips formed a crooked smile, and she slowly pressed them against mine.

  I stopped breathing.

  I didn’t understand what was going on, but I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to.

  I lay there, enjoying the feeling of her soft plush lips as butterflies filled my stomach.

  “Wooooooo!” someone shouted and everyone cheered, creating an echo across
the cavern walls.

  Ellie pulled away and laughed. “Sorry. I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you.”

  I smiled. If I put too much thought into it, I’d freak myself out. I’d never identified as a lesbian, or bisexual, for that matter. And the last thing I wanted to do was introspect or ponder my sexuality.

  Whether stuck on Kormace Island forever or not, only one thing mattered most above all else—if something made me feel good, I’d welcome it with open arms. There was enough negativity on this island to last a lifetime.

  The savory smell of smoked meat then filled my nostrils. A shadow darkened the space around me, and I looked up to find Fisher bent over with a piece of brown-edged, red meat dangling inches from my forehead.

  I tore it out of her hands and swallowed it so fast, I barely tasted it.

  “Whoa, whoa, now,” Fisher said. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  “For now,” Everest said. “Zat’s ze last of ze smoked meat ve have. Rest, ve vill have to cook up. But it von’t last us very long. Ve vill need to hunt—”

  “Yo, White Mountain,” Fisher said through hard chews, “would you shut up and let us enjoy this moment? Most of us haven’t eaten in days.”

  Everest threw both hands into the air and walked away. She reminded me of a grumpy grandmother who always felt underappreciated by her grandchildren.

  Fisher plopped herself down beside me and handed me another piece of meat.

  “Guess what?” she said.

  I stared at her. What the hell did she have to be so happy about? Had she found Murk’s stash of funny leaves?

  “Was chattin’ with Thompson over there.” She pointed her chin out at one of Coin’s friends—a young Native woman with a long French braid over one shoulder. “She saw Trim and Rocket… said they got out after the fire started. Headed south like us. We must’ve just missed ’em.”

  I sat up.

  Fisher was grinning from ear to ear. “If those two are alive, you can bet your ass the others probably are, too.”

  I glanced at Thompson, who was sitting with both legs pressed up to her chest, one arm dangling over her knee. She held a cigarette or a joint.

  Maybe they had found Murk’s stash.