by Shade Owens
“And keep your voice down,” she said. “You’re attracting attention.”
Two young women, a dozen or so hammocks away from us, were sitting together at the base of a tree inspecting something in their hands. But every few seconds, they looked up at me, and I couldn’t tell if they were curious or annoyed.
Either way, Quinn was right—I had to be careful what I talked about and who heard it. I looked at her and sighed, and for some reason, I immediately felt better. Quinn reminded me of someone you’d find coaching a drama class or a sports team. It looked like leadership came so naturally to her—like she always knew what to do and when to do it.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was drowning.
I wasn’t a leader, at least not naturally.
She placed two strong hands on the sides of my shoulders and stared at me until I calmed down. Quinn didn’t treat me differently despite everything that had happened over the last few weeks; she wasn’t afraid of me, and I needed that.
“Okay, okay,” I breathed.
She smiled, then let me go. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
Had I had a sense of humor left, I’d have probably said, “Last night was great, Quinn, but it was a one-time thing.”
“I have fourteen women we can count on,” she continued.
“Count on how?”
She looked around and signaled me to follow her. We passed through hanging vines, cotton sheets, pinned tents, and another row of hammocks until we were nearing the edge of the city. Deep into the forest, through the multitude of narrow tree trunks stood a Norther with a bow in her hand, poised to shoot anyone who tried to run.
They probably had several of them lined up around here in the evening—it was where all the women gathered to sleep.
She brought me underneath a tall palm tree that curved so much it looked like a giant hook. Peering around to make sure no one was watching, she crouched and pushed aside a pile of crisp leaves. A shiny beetle came scurrying out, but she ignored it and reached for what looked like string bracelets.
“What is that?” I asked.
She plucked a handful of them, pushed the pile of leaves over the remainder, and stood up.
“Our communication,” she said.
“Communication?”
“You said it yourself, Brone. People here aren’t happy with you. Some of them would rather live a shitty life than lose it. But others, like me, want to get the fuck out of here.”
She slid one of the bracelets around my wrist. One strand was beige, and the other red, and they twirled around one another. She handed me the rest of them, a total of five, and took a step back.
“It symbolizes unity.” She raised a fist in the air. The same bracelet encircled her wrist, and as her forearm pointed straight up, it slid down a bit. “When you see someone wearing this,” she added, “it means they’re on our side. I’ve already given fourteen of them to my girls. We can trust them, Brone.” She bowed her head and her gaze remained fixated on me a bit longer than necessary. “With our lives.”
I scoffed, though I hadn’t meant to.
“What’s so funny?”
“You can’t trust anyone with your life,” I said.
She crossed her thick arms over her chest as if I’d called her mother ugly.
“What?” I said, returning the big-eyed look she was giving me. “It’s true. Everyone only cares about themselves in the end. Humans are selfish by nature.”
“Speak for yourself, Brone. I’ve been with these women for years. They’re family. If you don’t have that with your women, well, then I feel sorry for you. And if that’s the case, you shouldn’t be giving them those bracelets.”
I couldn’t even respond to that. The truth was, I did have that—with the Hunters and with Ellie. I hadn’t known them for years, but I’d begun to think of them as family. I swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that I’d given myself up for my friends—I’d thrown Rocket, Ellie, Fisher, and Proxy into the river to save them from the Northers.
If that wasn’t love, I wasn’t sure what was.
And now I had Coin, Hammer, and Johnson, who I truly cared about. Arenas was slowly making her way onto my list of people, but she had a way to go.
“You do have someone,” she said, tilting her head forward until I made eye contact.
“Yeah.”
“Then use that,” she said. “That love you feel. That’s enough to keep you going when you want to give up.”
I took in a deep breath, trying hard not to allow emotion to resurface.
“What’s your story, Quinn?” I finally asked.
She wiggled her bracelet, took a step back, and crossed her arms over her round belly.
“I’m a murderer, obviously,” she said plainly. “Killed my sister’s ex-boyfriend for laying a hand on her. Don’t know what happened, to be honest.” She looked all around like she was watching a holographic film being projected into the leaves overhead. “One second I was yelling at him, the next, bashing his face in, and then I had a frying pan with teeth stuck to it and he didn’t have much face left.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my jaw hanging open.
“What’s yours?” she said nonchalantly.
“That’s not what I meant when I said your story,” I said. “But I’m happy to know I’m not the only one who used a frying pan to kill someone.”
She let out a loud choppy laugh and it trailed off into the market. I hadn’t meant to be funny, but it felt good to make someone laugh.
“I meant, what’s your story on the island?” I continued. “How’d the North—how’d the Beasts catch you? And are you all from the same tribe? Same gang? Did they catch you all at the same time?”
She bowed her head grimly, uncrossed her arms, and interlocked her fingers in front of her belly. I stared at her arms, noting the colorful ink sleeves down both. But the closer I looked, the more I realized how ugly the ink was—it looked like a blotchy mess done in someone’s basement.
Maybe she’d come from a rough life.
“I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been here. Fifteen years, if I were to guess.”
“But what about—” I cut her off, pointing at her hair. It was a washed-out pink mixed in with bleached blond. It looked like she’d been dropped on the island a few months ago.
She grinned from ear to ear, revealing stained yellow teeth. “Had a little fun with my girls awhile back. We played around with lemon and fruit juices.”
“So if you’ve been here for fifteen years, where’ve you been hiding out?”
“We weren’t hiding,” she said. “We were living our life south of here. A small gang, but it was nice, you know? Everyone took care of each other and worked together to keep shit going. We were all dumped here together from Swanson Juvenile Facility.”
“Juvenile?” I cut in. I wasn’t all that surprised to hear it, but it still upset me every time. How the hell was the government getting away with this? “How old were you?”
“Don’t let the name fool you,” she said, pointing a finger in my face. “We were the country’s most well-known juvenile center. Kids killed each other every other week in that place. I was fifteen at the time—”
“Fifteen?” I cut in. “Who sent you here?”
“Jesus, Brone. What’s with the interrogation?”
“Just answer me.”
She cocked an eyebrow, then reached for her septum ring and played with it. “The government. Who else?”
“Which government?”
She pulled back and placed two hands on her hips, obviously getting annoyed with my questioning. “Canadian, why?”
CHAPTER 6
“So it’s true,” Coin said, clicking her fingers in the air. “Man, I knew it!”
“Keep it down,” I said, my eyes rolling toward a group of women around a campfire. “We’ve already attracted way too much attention these last few days.”
The sun had begun to set, and women gathered near the
sleeping area—some ate their supper’s leftovers, others gabbed away after a long day of work. The air was dense and humid, more humid than most evenings, which attracted big-winged bugs around us.
A gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, turning them upside down.
“Looks like a storm’s coming,” Johnson said, glancing at the greenery above us.
“How do you know?” Hammer asked.
Johnson, her frizzy-haired head still tilted back, took a deep breath and blew it out. “My mom used to say that was how you know a storm’s coming. See that?” She pointed straight up at the nearest tree. “How the leaves are turned upside down?”
“Man, no one cares,” Coin cut in. “Brone, talk to us.” She slid forward in her hammock, her shoulders rounded and her eyes big. “Did she say anything else? Is the Canadian government involved, too?”
Hammer scoffed. “I doubt it. They probably paid the states to use their island as a one-time thing. Canada’s way too liberal to pull something like this. What’d you say the name of the facility was? Swanson?”
I nodded.
She slapped Johnson on the shoulder seeing as she was the only one sitting at arm’s length, and Johnson gave her a dirty look. “I saw that on TV—the Swanson fire.”
“What’re you talking about?” Coin asked.
“In 2070,” Hammer continued. “I remember the year because it’s the year I got sent to this hellhole. It was February, and it was all over the news. How haven’t any of you heard about it?”
Everyone stared at her, so she kept going. “Apparently, the whole facility went up in flames and no one survived.”
I gawked at her. “Um, well, that’s bullshit. A bunch of them are here.”
“Must’ve been a cover story,” Johnson said, rubbing the arm Hammer had slapped.
“I feel like we’re in a fuckin’ TV show,” Coin said. “Man, why the hell would they ship a bunch of juvenile convicts here, then burn the damn place up and make it look like an accident? If they wanted to get rid of them that bad, why didn’t they actually burn them?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on. For some reason, they wanted the bodies here, on the island.”
“Don’t make no sense,” Coin muttered, rubbing her hands through her fuzzy hair.
I let out a long breath, then pointed at the bracelet around her wrist. “So, are we clear on the bracelets?”
Everyone nodded.
“Don’t tell anyone about them, and if they ask about them, you tell them it’s the latest style. If they ask for one… send them to Quinn. She’ll sell them blue ones.”
They all nodded again, but then Coin furrowed her brows and glared up at Arenas. “How do you know we can even trust each other?”
“Back off,” Arenas said, which was the first time she’d spoken since standing face-to-face with Coin in the fighting ring.
“Are you fuck—” Coin started, but she lowered her voice when she caught my eyes. “Girl, you didn’t even hesitate in that ring. You came at me like you didn’t even know me!”
“Yeah, and you just stood there,” Arenas said. “No wonder Murk never chose you to be a Battlewoman. I’m sorry, okay? You think I wanted to hurt you? You think I wanted to fight?” She moved her head from back and forth, her bold attitude resurfacing. “Chica, it was a life-or-death situation, and if I have to choose between me and someone else, I’ll always choose me.” She jabbed a finger into her chest, breathing hard, her small shoulders bouncing up and down. It was apparent she’d been holding this in for quite some time.
“Hate to take sides, here,” Johnson said, “but the girl’s right.”
Coin’s hateful glare rolled toward Johnson, who raised two hands and added, “Like I said, I’m not taking sides. But you guys were put in a situation where only one person comes out alive. If you want to live, morals are out.”
“You’ve never been in that situation,” I said, “so how would you know?”
“Look, guys,” Hammer cut in. “It’s over, okay? You’re both still alive thanks to Brone. So how about we all shut up and move forward?”
To think that a year ago, Hammer had jumped me in the forest and threatened me at knifepoint was all too surreal. She wasn’t that woman anymore—she’d changed so much, both physically and emotionally, that I didn’t even recognize her anymore. Anytime tension started to build, she’d try to defuse it.
I was lucky to have her.
“So, about these bracelets,” she added. “What’s the purpose? Solidarity?”
“Something like that,” I said.
“I hate to say it, Brone, but that’s not much of a plan,” she said.
“It’s not a plan,” I said. “It’s the start of a movement. We can’t start fighting back without knowing how many of us want to fight back. It’ll get us killed. We need a symbol—something that lets us know who’s with us and who isn’t. When the time’s right, we’ll take a stand.”
I wasn’t sure when the time would be right, but all I kept thinking about was what that woman had told me from behind her prison bars. It had sounded like she’d been reciting lines from a poem—like she’d memorized every word for me.
“We’re alive. Fisher made it. We’re coming for you.”
When were they coming? And who were they, exactly? I hoped to God that the Hunters weren’t stupid enough to come on their own. They needed reinforcements—more Battlewomen if they hoped to stand a chance against the Northers. Had they found more women to join their society? Had they received new drops? There was so much uncertainty it made me sick to my stomach.
I couldn’t bear the thought of my friends coming to our rescue only to get themselves killed.
They needed to be prepared, and we needed to be ready to help them help us.
“Try to keep your heads low for the next little while,” I said, my stare lingering on Coin and Arenas a little more than the others. “That means no fighting.”
Arenas flicked two fingers in the air as if to say, You got it, and Coin gave me her usual nod.
But the sound that followed next was the last thing I’d have expected to hear.
“W-w-why don’t we r-r-run?” said Tegan.
Everyone’s mouths hung open as they turned their attention to Tegan. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, her bony knees pressed up against her chest. Her shaggy brown hair hung over most of her face and swayed from this way and that every time she jerked her head to move the hair out of her eyes.
She didn’t look up, though. Instead, she stared at her curling toenails and scratched at the skin of her bare feet. “W-w-why fight? If we all r-r-run at the… the same… the same time.”
I looked at Hammer, then at Coin. Was Tegan onto something? Yesterday, that was precisely what I’d intended to do—to run. What if Tegan was right? What if we all ran together? Dozens of us. How on Earth would the Northers catch us all?
“What about those who don’t follow?” Johnson said. “We leave them behind?”
“We c-c-c-ome back,” Tegan said. “With the H-H-Hunters.”
Why hadn’t I thought of this? It was much more realistic to escape, gather strength, and attack the Northers from the outside than it was to attempt to fight back from within. I wanted to throw my arms around Tegan, but I could tell from her body language that she didn’t want anyone near her.
“Tegan’s onto something,” I said, my voice turning into a whisper. “Think about it. If there are dozens of us running in the same direction, it’ll be impossible for them to catch us all. There are what? A dozen Northers spread out around the city’s perimeter?”
“Thirty-two,” Sumi said.
I swung around to spot Sumi standing behind me, arms crossed over her flat chest, and her large hood pulled forward, making the burn scars on her face and head less visible.
Her dark eyes darted back and forth. “And I’d suggest you find somewhere else to talk about this.” She then playfully pinched the red and beige brace
let around her wrist and offered us a crooked, lipless smile.
CHAPTER 7
Alice Number Two came storming toward us, a blanket over her head and her legs covered in mud. She was yelling something with her mouth wide open and one arm waving out from underneath the blanket, but the heavy rain and strong gusts of wind masked her sounds entirely.
It was like watching a television show on mute.
When she finally reached us, she tore the blanket off her head, which hadn’t helped her stay dry, and gave us an impatient, unimpressed stance—both hands on her hips and her weight shifted onto one leg.
“Get your asses out there,” she ordered.
“Are you kidding?” Arenas said, and a loud clap of thunder erupted in the sky. She then made her eyes go big as if to say, My point exactly.
“I don’t care if it’s raining,” said Alice Number Two. “Get out there and do your job.”
“I think it’s being done for us,” Johnson said, and Coin burst out laughing.
“Girl’s got a point.” Coin waved a finger toward our station. “All that water’s cleanin’ everythin’ for us.”
“That water,” sneered Alice Number Two, “ain’t prepping meals for everyone.”
“No one else is working,” Johnson said. “And we barely got any sleep all night.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.
It had rained most of the night, and every few hours, flashes of lightning illuminated the sky above us before the thunder kicked in, shaking the trees around us.
I was cold, wet, and exhausted. The last thing we needed right now was to get even wetter and colder. She was being ridiculous.
“No one else has a job as important as you,” she said. “People need to eat.”
“They can eat fuckin’ bananas today!” Coin growled.
Alice Number Two took a long, exaggerated breath through flared nostrils. “Unless you want Zsasz involved right now, I suggest you get off your asses and get to work.”
