by Shade Owens
“Girl,” Biggie tried.
“Shut up,” I hissed, moving toward his mouth again.
“Why is she still going?” I heard Elektra ask.
“She’s trying—” Rocket said, and just then, the man coughed hard, and I pulled away with two hands on either side of my face. He turned his head sideways, squinted, and coughed again until water came pouring out of his mouth.
Without hesitating, I lunged to my feet, picked up my bow, and aimed my arrow’s head at his tattooed chest.
Clawing at his chest, which was likely burning, he looked up at me with tired eyes.
I may have saved his life, but if this man proved himself to be a threat to my people, I wouldn’t hesitate to strip him of his second chance and kill him myself.
CHAPTER 6
“Who are you?” I asked.
He grimaced, raising a hand over his brows to block the bright morning sun. “Wh-wh-where…”
“Great,” Coin said. “The man probably doesn’t even speak English.”
Slowly, he rolled onto his hands and knees, coughed up again with a rounded back, and tried to stand. Too weak to do so, he fell back onto his knees. “Where—” he tried again.
“Kormace Island,” I said.
Sighing, he gave up trying to stand, sat down, and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Kormace Island?”
I nodded.
“You’ve gotta to be kiddin’ me.”
The words came out of his mouth with a broken accent.
“So he speaks English,” Coin said.
Biggie stepped forward with a knife in one hand and a balled fist. “Who da fuck are you?”
“Biggie,” I said, giving her a look meant to tell her to tone it down.
“I—I’m Number 73,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.
Number 73? Was this some sort of joke? I wasn’t sure how to feel about this guy. There was something off about him—both with his demeanor and his appearance. His skin, calloused and scarred, looked like he’d spent years living in the wild.
“Where’d you come from?” I asked.
As if suddenly remembering what had happened, he searched the sand in a panic. “What… What happened? Son of a bitch.” He ran two hands through his salty hair and breathed out. “It’s ruined. How… How did this happen? It wasn’t supposed to be like this… Man. The guys warned me. I shoulda listened.”
His voice was deep and rugged, even more masculine than Eliot’s. Every time he moved sideways, resting his body weight on one arm, his tricep bulged.
“Hey,” he said. “I don’t want any trouble, okay? I was only lookin’ to get out. I didn’t think I’d end up here.”
His last word made it sound as if he either despised Kormace Island or feared it.
What wasn’t he telling us?
“Get out of what?” I asked.
He hesitated, running the back of his hand against the scruff of his patchy beard. “I—I’m from Grohen Island.”
What the hell was Grohen Island?
“You don’t know what that is?” he said, sounding relieved. Quickly, he cleared his throat. “Well, it ain’t no place important and the sooner I forget about it, the better.”
Biggie planted a hand on her waist and swayed her head from side to side. “Man, I don’t think so. You ain’t gettin’ off that easy. Spit it out. Don’t be you be keepin’ secrets from us if you wanna live.”
Stepping a bit closer, I jerked my loaded bow in the air. “You heard the woman. Tell us.”
“All right, I’ll tell ya,” he said. “But you gotta promise you ain’t gonna kill me.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. What secret was so big it warranted his death?
“Grohen Island’s the third penal island for male murderers.”
CHAPTER 7
“Third?” Rocket asked.
I knew what he was talking about before he even opened his mouth to explained—Mr. Milas, Attorney General of the Department of Justice, had publicly announced that four islands were being reserved for convicts, one of them being Kormace Island. I didn’t know much about the male islands, and I certainly didn’t know anything about Grohen Island.
“So you’re a fuckin’ killer,” Coin said, clenching her teeth.
“Easy,” I said. “Let him talk.”
While I didn’t much like the idea of having a male convict around, I was curious to know more. How had he ended up here? How far away was the island? Did he know in which direction to go to make it back to the real world? Obviously, he knew more than we did about our geographical location, and I couldn’t ignore that.
He licked his pale cracked lips. “I waited years… Spent most of my life on that damn place. You have any idea how hard it is to survive that island?”
Although I wanted to say, You’re preaching to the choir, buddy, I kept my mouth shut so he could keep going.
“Men playin’ their fuckin’ lottery game.”
Rocket scoffed. “Lottery? Sounds like a party to me.”
The way he looked up at her—with a hatred so raw and primal—made me see the criminal inside of him. “It wasn’t. Not a single man has a name on that island. We’re all numbers. Each month, they pick two numbers”—he raised two fingers in the air, gangster-style—“and the guys gotta fight to the death.”
For a moment, I felt sorry for him. Sure, he seemed like the kind of guy who’d spent a lifetime in prison before being banished, and like he belonged to some notorious gang, but who was I to judge? Who were any of us to judge?
“Why would they do that?” Rocket asked.
“Population control,” he said, staring at the sand between his toes.
It was obvious by the solemn look on his face that he’d lost a friend or two to this barbaric lottery game.
“Who’s they?” Elektra asked.
Number 73’s eyes rolled up to meet Elektra’s, and his features immediately softened. Maybe it was her age that made him want to tone down his aggression.
He forced a smile, and it appeared foreign on his face. “The Council.”
Clearly, there was nothing to smile about, but it was almost as if he were trying to be sweet with her, which was a bit unexpected given his badass appearance.
“What’s that?” Elektra asked.
“The men in charge on the island. They control everythin’, and anyone who stands up to them gets cut to pieces. I mean—” his eyes shot toward us, the adults, and Rocket shrugged one shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she said. “This kid’s tougher than she looks. She can handle anything you have to say.”
He nodded, looking relieved.
“What’s your crime?” I asked, standing stiff with shoulders drawn back.
The last thing I wanted was for this man to think he had any sort of advantage over us due to his size. We were the ones with the weapons, and this was our land. He had to understand that leaving his island didn’t make him a free man—we were in charge here.
He scoffed. “Which one?”
“If you expect us to let you live,” I said, “you’d better tell us about who you are and why you got sent to the island in the first place.”
He rounded his shoulders and twirled his thumbs. “Dumb gang shit, ya know? I was young. Shot up some kids from another gang. Spendin’ years on an island changes a guy.”
He averted his gaze and waited for me to say something. What had I done, saving this man’s life? We knew nothing about him.
His stare made its way from my lips to my chest to my hips, and I became uncomfortable.
“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Biggie snapped, stomping toward him.
His hands bounced up by his face like springs. “I—I’m sorry. I mean no disrespect. You gotta understand. I haven’t seen a woman in years.”
Rocket side-glanced me. “This is a bad idea, Brone.”
“I mean no harm, I swear,” he said. “I ain’t gonna stir any trouble. I’m not a bad guy, okay? I made a mistake. I’m not
that guy anymore. Ain’t that why y’all are here? ’Cause of some dumb shit you did in your younger days?”
Everyone exchanged a look. That was exactly why most of us were here, but there were also many other criminals on this island who didn’t feel any remorse for what they’d done.
So, was it true? Had this man changed since he’d been convicted? Was he a dangerous gang man, but a harmless guy outside of the gang life? I wanted to believe he was a decent guy—I truly did. The last thing I wanted to think about was some male criminal raping my women to satisfy years-worth of fantasies discussed on an all-male island.
“Listen,” he said, hands still floating in the air. “I can be useful, okay? I’m real good with my hands. I can build you anythin’ you want—”
“We already have the area covered,” Coin said sharply.
With arms crossed over her chest, she squeezed her fists to make her muscles bulge out intentionally, then sucked hard on her golden tooth.
I jerked my chin out at him. “What else you got?”
He hesitated, and then as if being struck over the head with a newspaper, he stiffened his back. “What ‘bout that plane that came this way? Did it land? I saw it before I crashed against that damn rock. I’m real good with engines if anything’s wrong with it. If you got someone who can fly it, it could be our ticket outta here.” He then gave me a full up-and-down look. “But I’d also be willin’ to bet you can persuade the pilot to take us home with that bow of yours.”
His dark eyes lit up and he smiled, revealing two canine teeth that stuck out over his other crooked teeth. Somehow, they suited him, giving him a vampiric appearance.
“You’re talking about stealing a plane from someone,” I said plainly.
He hesitated, then shrugged.
“Yeah,” he said, matter-of-factly. “If me stealing some government employee’s plane’s what I gotta do to get my ass off this island, I’m gonna do it.”
CHAPTER 8
“This is insane,” Rocket hissed, glancing back at Biggie and her new puppy.
Number 73 walked with his head bowed and rope fastened around his neck and wrists. At the other end, Biggie held onto the rope like a leash, tugging hard every time he slowed his pace.
Did I like the idea of stealing from someone? At this point, I didn’t care anymore. This guy, whoever he was, was right. The plane likely belonged to some government agency, and if that was the case, I wouldn’t hesitate to take it. My one concern was for my people.
A few years ago, I’d have taken the Hunters and Ellie with me, and left everyone to rot on the island. But ever since the war had ended, I’d developed relationships with my women, and no way was I abandoning them on this island in exchange for freedom. If freedom was even a possibility, I’d have to find a way to make sure everyone got off the island safely.
“Ya know,” Number 73 said, “if the plane thing doesn’t work out, I can build you all a boat. Couldn’t do it on Grohen ’cause men kept tearing it down. Seems like this island’s pretty calm.”
I searched Coin, who appeared to be as uncertain as I was.
It wouldn’t have been the first time we’d contemplated building some sort of ship and sailing out to sea, but where would we go? Who was to say we wouldn’t die traveling across the ocean? We had no idea where we were, or how to reach land. Furthermore, what if patrol boats sat nearby, waiting to take out any prisoner attempting to sail away?
“How’d you know you’d reach land with that raft of yours?” Coin asked, glancing back at the man.
He shrugged, an arrogant look on his face. “Went based on information I got from Number 109. The dude was one of America’s baddest hackers.”
I stopped walking and turned around. “What does hacking have to do with murder?”
He scoffed. “Lady, you must be delusional if you think the government ain’t all corrupted and shit. This guy was responsible for stealin’ millions of dollars and breaking through government firewalls. The government didn’t want to keep him around, so they said he was responsible for some guy’s death and shit.”
“I’m aware of the corruption,” I said coldly.
“Anyways, he told me he got a hold of the penal island maps. No one listened to him, but I did. Everyone thought he was a weirdo. I mean, he was. Talkin’ to himself and shit all the time.” He shook his head and laughed, likely seeing this hacker’s face in his mind. “He’d talk real fast, too, like he was on dope. Told me how we ain’t as far as we think we are, and the islands ain’t all that far from each other, either. I mean, the last thing I wanted was to end up on another island, but hey, this one beats an island full of men.”
He smirked at his own comment but didn’t look up.
“You must be real happy,” Coin said, her eyes narrowing. “You landed the jackpot, didn’t you? An island full of women.”
It was obvious she hated the guy, and she wasn’t shy about making it known.
He clicked his tongue. “Well, I ain’t complainin’ about that.”
Biggie tugged so aggressively on his leash that he tripped forward, but caught himself in a run. “Chill out, I’m only playing!”
“You’d better learn some respect, boy,” Biggie said, her voice deepening. “You have no idea what we’ve been through on this island. You hear me? This ain’t some fuckin’ fantasy island full of women for you to pick from. We clear?”
He nodded quickly, eyes aimed at the jungle floor. Biggie was quite a bit taller and thicker than him. With her at our sides, I felt safe. If he tried to pull anything, she’d knock him out in a heartbeat.
We continued walking in silence, with Number 73 breathing heavily behind us. It sounded like he either had a sinus infection or a deviated septum. Although I knew it wasn’t his fault, I couldn’t help but get annoyed at the sound.
“Can you breathe through your mouth?” I said at last.
He looked up at me, shocked, and parted his lips.
When I faced forward again, I caught Rocket smirking beside me.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“You okay?” she asked, still smirking. “You seem a little… tense.”
I was tense. Not only were we searching for some plane, we now had a male murderer with us who had every intention of stealing that plane. For all we knew, he’d try to force us to take off the moment we found it, and I’d be forced to kill him. No way was I leaving my people behind, and it was doubtful that if we found a plane, he’d be willing to turn the other way and return to our Village with us.
Besides, how could we be certain that our return home wouldn’t result in us being shot down from the sky? If it was a government plane, certainly, there was some sort of communication protocol before flying in unauthorized airspace. And to top that off, how could we even go home, anyway? We were convicted murderers. If we were found roaming America, we’d be thrown back in prison or sent back to the island.
Was it at all possible that the plane was, in fact, private? That it had somehow managed to land by fluke? With that thought in mind, something hit me. What if the plane had landed due to insufficient fuel? Not only would we be left without a functional plane, but people from the outside world would be stuck on the island.
There were so many possibilities, and the decisions fell on me.
I’ve been through far worse.
“I’m fine,” I said, staring straight ahead. “I’m in my head, trying to prepare for different scenarios.”
“I get it,” Rocket said. “It’s a lot on one person. Even a badass like you.” This time, she nudged me and playfully dropped her head on my shoulder.
I parted my lips, not knowing what to say, when Number 73’s husky voice blew up behind us.
“Stop!”
CHAPTER 9
Biggie’s face contorted so severely that she resembled an alien. “Yo, what the f—”
“Biggie,” I hissed, staring at Number 73.
His eyes, two huge brown balls, searched the ground at my feet
. He hadn’t shouted out of anger—something was wrong.
“What is it?” I asked.
With his wrists still tied in front of him, he pointed his patchy chin toward my ankles. Slowly, my gaze fell toward the ground.
A mere inch away from the skin of my legs was a thin metal wire stretching from one tree to another. Before I could open my mouth, Number 73 lowered his voice and cut in. “Tripwire. Did your leg touch it?”
Checking one more time to be safe, I shook my head.
He raised his hands in front of his chest and shook them gently. “Back away slowly.”
I moved away, wincing. What if I had touched it and didn’t know? Was something about to explode? What the hell was this thing? In a panic, I followed the wire to the tree on the left, where it twirled around its bark several times.
Coin stepped forward, knees bent as if prepared to jump ten feet into the air. “Where’d this come from? It looks like… it looks like metal.”
“Maybe an old Norther trap,” I said. “They were hunting for us in the Dead Zone, remember?”
“Norther?” Number 73 asked.
No one answered him.
Coin rubbed her chin, seemingly unconvinced. “We aren’t in the Dead Zone anymore.”
“No,” I said, “but they were all around us. It wouldn’t have stopped them from placing traps around the Dead Zone’s perimeter.”
“I don’t know,” Rocket said. “You’re telling me this thing’s survived over two years without being tripped on?”
“Well,” I said, trying to understand it myself, “the Dead Zone isn’t far back from us, and we all know how barely anything goes through there. So, yeah, maybe it’s been sitting here with nothing to disturb it.”
“Or it’s an Ogre trap,” Elektra said. “Right? Aren’t Ogres the crazy ones? Maybe they did this.”
“Ogres?” Number 73 quirked a brow.
Again, we ignored him and I shook my head. “Ogres are too primal for this. They don’t work with metal.”
