The Feral Sentence- Complete Box Set

by Shade Owens

  “Metal?” Number 73 said. “How do you guys have metal on this island?”

  Biggie tugged on his rope. “Shut up.”

  At the same time, Coin scowled at the wire, following it to the other side. She moved carefully through long grass and flower bushes, probably afraid of making something go off. Crouching forward, she pushed the tall grass out of the way to inspect the trap.

  “Um, Brone,” she said.

  As I approached, she pushed aside a dozen yellow flowers and a handful of honeybees flew up into the air. While bees didn’t bother me, the sight of them was bittersweet; they signified life, but at the same time reminded me of death. Twice in the last two years, one of my women had died due to anaphylaxis.

  I was fortunate enough to not have any allergies.

  “You seeing this?” Coin asked.

  I had to move closer because I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. “Are those batteries?”

  “Batteries?” Rocket said, rushing to meet us around the trap’s base. “What for? And where the hell did a battery come from?”

  How was this possible? Could a battery have survived the Russian plane crash? Had there been devices on that plane containing batteries? It was a DDC battery—I’d have recognized that thing anywhere. DDC batteries looked somewhat like the old-school AA batteries, but apparently, lasted longer. Everyone I knew from my old life hated these batteries. Not only were they shaped differently, which meant older electronics couldn’t use them, they were also crazy expensive.

  Coin and I stared at each other, and I was willing to bet she was thinking the same thing as me.

  “Can those batteries even last that long?” I asked. “I mean, didn’t that plane crash over twenty years ago? What’s the shelf life on those things?”

  “It appears to be exactly that—twenty years,” Coin said, inspecting the gadget. “So, it’s hard to say.”

  “Um, excuse me,” Number 73 said, but Coin and I kept talking.

  “So, it’s probably a Norther trap,” I said. “But what does it do? Is it an electrical current? A bomb? And for all we know, the batteries don’t even work anymore.”

  Coin bit her bottom lip, then turned toward the gadget again. “Nah, it’s working. See this light?” Without touching it, she ran her finger over it, muttering to herself. “This connects to this. And this… Okay. Yeah. Hmmm. What the hell?”

  “What is it?” Rocket asked.

  Elektra jumped over a tree stump like a grasshopper, but Rocket caught her midair by her shirt. “Don’t fucking do that!”

  That was the first time I’d ever heard Rocket swear at Elektra, and I was willing to bet it had been out of fear.

  Clearing her throat, Rocket said, “Elektra, you can’t be moving fast like that around a tripwire. We have no idea what it does yet, and there could be other traps we don’t see. Are you trying to get yourself, or all of us, killed?”

  Without saying a word, Elektra lowered her head shamefully. “S-sorry.”

  Rocket clenched her fists, made her eyes go big, and growled out of frustration. “Don’t do it again.”

  “So weird,” Coin said. “I suppose this could have come from the plane, too.”

  “What?” I asked.

  Coin pointed at something. “This gadget here.”

  It was hard to tell what it was. From where I was standing, it appeared to be a small plastic box with a wooden clamp holding wires together.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Coin admitted. “I’ve never seen this before.”

  “Um, ladies,” Number 73 said.

  “What will happen if we pull the batteries out? Will it shut down whatever the weapon is?” I asked. “Maybe we can get a better idea of what it is if we open up the box.”

  Being totally out of my element, I felt like an idiot. I knew nothing about tripwires or electrical gadgets, so all I could do was ask questions and hope that somebody else had an answer.

  “I think it’s safe to take it out,” Coin said, but it came out sounding like more of a question.

  “Hello?” Number 73 said.

  “I wouldn’t do it with your fingers, though,” I said. “Use a piece of wood. It’s non-conductive. Make sure it’s a dry piece and not a damp one.”

  Coin stood up, reached for a branch overhead, and snapped off the driest one she could find.

  “You guys seriously ignorin’ me?” Number 73 cut in.

  “What the hell do you want?” Coin said, squeezing her branch so hard it snapped in two.

  I wanted to tell Coin to tone down her hatred for the man being that he was the reason I hadn’t walked right into the wire, but he started talking before I could say anything.

  “That box right there,” he said, pointing with his tied hands, “is an alarm. It either emits a loud sound, or it alerts someone nearby.”

  Coin scoffed. “Alerts someone? Like a communication device? That’s not possible. I get that the Northers were pretty resourceful, but ain’t no way did they figure out how to rewire some electrical box and use it to receive signals.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m only telling you what I see, and I’ve seen lots of these before. You got a question about weapons and shit, I’m your guy. That’s what I did before things got outta hand. Arms traffickin’.”

  Coin didn’t say anything.

  How could she? This guy obviously knew what he was talking about. But had the Northers been that smart? Had they seriously rewired something and made it their own?

  “I mean, all it takes is one electrician,” I said. “Maybe they had one.”

  “Who are these Northers?” he asked.

  “The enemy,” I said plainly. “But they’re dead now.”

  “They were convicts, too?” he asked.

  I nodded. What was he getting at? Why was he asking so many questions?

  “Well, unless one of them smuggled a battery on this island, those Northers ain’t the ones who built this.”

  I parted my lips, but nothing came out.

  “When did they die?” he said.

  “About two years ago.”

  “What about that plane you’re talkin’ about?” he asked. “When did that crash?”

  I was getting annoyed with his questions, but it was obvious by how curious he was that he was only trying to figure it out.

  “I don’t know,” I said, searching the others. “Twenty, thirty years ago.”

  A smug smile spread across his face and he clicked his tongue. “Man, then you got some other enemy on this island, ’cause them Northers ain’t the ones who built this.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  My words came out cold and defensive. The last thing I wanted was another enemy, especially one capable of setting up advanced tripwires.

  “See that battery right there?” He pointed at the DDC batteries—four red and black cylinders the size of my pinky. On them were the letters LR in bold font.

  “Those right there are of the latest models that came out for that battery. The LR model came out in 2072, so this battery didn’t come from that plane.”

  “Okay,” Rocket said. “But like you said, someone could have smuggled it in.”

  He elevated his chin, almost as if amused. He already knew the answer to all of this, and he was taking his time revealing it. “You said they died two years ago.”

  “What’s your point?” Rocket asked, sounding as impatient as me. “Maybe this trap has been sitting here for years.”

  For the first time, Number 73 laughed. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but shelf life don’t mean shit in this heat and humidity. You’d be lucky to get a year out of those batteries in this nasty ass weather. And you see that wooden clip? It’s clean. No mold, no moisture, nothin’. This trap looks brand fuckin’ new to me.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “You don’t believe him, do you?” Rocket asked.

  How was I supposed to answer
? Of course, I believed him. What reason did he have to lie? It was clear none of us wanted to believe him. That’s probably why Rocket kept pestering me about it. Maybe she wanted to believe the trap was an old Norther trap so badly that she kept asking me the same question over and over again, hoping I’d answer differently.

  She peered back at Number 73 and rolled her eyes. “The guy’s some low-life gang member. Maybe he’s trying to get something out—”

  I didn’t have to say anything for Rocket to understand my glare. We were all here for the same reason—because we’d made a mistake at one point in our lives. Who was she to judge him? Most of my friends on this island had done stupid things, but not once had I thought them to be lowlifes.

  Besides, he’d saved us; there was no telling who that alarm signaled.

  “Well, you know what I mean,” she said, trying to correct herself. “Plus, he’s a dude. He’s probably trying to scare us.”

  I turned my head sideways. “Scare us? What for? Look, Rocket, I get that you’re freaked out, but you trying to blame the new guy isn’t doing you any favors. If you think about it, he’s right. The thing looked pretty new to me, too. He stopped me from stepping on the tripwire. He didn’t have to do that.”

  “She’s in denial,” came Elektra’s voice.

  Appearing beside Rocket, she offered a hotshot smile. “When she gets scared, I mean. Rocket starts talking a lot. Like, more than me.”

  “I don’t get scared,” Rocket growled.

  Forcing a smile, I reached for Rocket’s shoulder. “It’s okay to get freaked out, you know. You don’t think I’m panicking inside?”

  Her flat features made it obvious she didn’t think that whatsoever. “You’re always so composed, Brone, like everything’s gonna work out no matter what.”

  “Well, everyone has their way of dealing with stress,” I said. “You talk a lot… I go quiet.”

  When she didn’t say anything, I cleared my throat. “Listen, even if the trap’s new, it doesn’t matter. We took out the fucking Northers, you hear me?”

  This made her smile. She nodded, reminding me of a preteen trying to regain confidence after losing an athletic championship.

  “You’re sure we killed them all, right?” Rocket asked. “I don’t remember seeing Zsasz’s body after the fight.”

  I stopped walking and Coin bumped into me.

  “Whoa,” Coin said, unsticking her clammy skin from mine.

  The frightened look on Rocket’s face made me want to projectile vomit. I parted my lips, but nothing came out. Although I hadn’t killed Zsasz, I’d cut her in numerous places and left her to bleed to death. This, in my mind, was far better than being merciful and ending her life with a single blow.

  And what was Rocket trying to say? Did this trap belong to Zsasz? Did she have enough intelligence to make something like this? Even if she did, where the hell had she gotten the battery from? It didn’t make any sense.

  My heart skipped a beat and I swallowed hard, freaking out inside. My cheeks felt so hot it was like I was standing next to a fire.

  Without warning, Rocket threw her arms up in the air. “See, nothing! You stand there like a goddamn statue.”

  “What—” I said.

  Rocket slapped her forehead and let out a childish chuckle. “I’m messing with you, Brone.”

  Clenching my teeth, I stared at her. “That was your idea of a joke?”

  Rocket tried to say something, but it came out like a squeal. She was laughing so much that her eyes disappeared entirely, and tears started slipping out at the corners. Elektra, standing tall behind her, laughed until her eyes watered, too.

  Slowly, a smile crept on my face. How could I stay serious when these two were laughing their heads off? Even Biggie and Coin, who hadn’t heard any of what Rocket had said, joined in on the laughter.

  Still smiling, I let out a frustrated growl and pretended to strangle Rocket by the throat. “I can’t believe you!”

  “What’s so funny?” Number 73 asked.

  I shook my head as if to say, It isn’t important, and kept walking.

  Behind me, Elektra kept whispering something in Rocket’s ear, and the two of them would start laughing again. She was no doubt making comments about the whole Zsasz joke.

  Although I didn’t want to dampen the mood, we needed to remain quiet and vigilant. We’d already come across a tripwire—what other traps had been laid out?

  “I need you guys to watch everywhere,” I said.

  Like a soldier, Rocket cleared her throat and gave me a brisk nod.

  I’d contemplated moving to shore and traveling outside of the jungle, but we had no idea what other enemies lived on Kormace Island. If Number 73 was right about the trap being brand new, it meant someone else was out there.

  All I could hope for was that the trap had been placed simply for hunting purposes. For all we knew, some Rogue was surviving this island by using advanced tactics.

  It was the feeling of not knowing that bothered me.

  We continued our path, glancing through the trees every so often to inspect the shoreline.

  Across the shore, the afternoon sun beamed down on the ocean water, making it teasingly inviting. My shirt, cool and damp, stuck to my sweaty back. I wiped the back of my neck, feeling dirt and grime roll up into little bits.

  What if this was all for nothing? What if Biggie was wrong and the plane hadn’t even landed?

  If we didn’t find anything soon, I’d have to give up and order everyone to return home. We couldn’t travel the entire island for something we weren’t even certain about.

  As if reading my thoughts, Coin whispered, “Are we even sure it landed?”

  Shaking my head, I squinted out toward the shore.

  “You guys talkin’ about that plane?” Number 73 said.

  When I turned around, Biggie held his rope tightly in her fist, and with her eyes, threatened to tug at it as a way of telling him to shut up. But when she caught me watching her, she loosened her grip.

  “It landed,” he said smugly.

  Biggie arched an eyebrow and leaned her body back to give him a feisty up-and-down look. “How da hell do you know that for sure?”

  He threw his chin out toward the breaks in the trees, where bright yellow light shone in.

  “’Cause,” he said. “See those wheel lines?”

  At the same time, everyone rushed closer to the edge of the forest.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  He was right—again.

  In the sand were two lines that ran all the way down the beach and around a rocky bend.

  “Bet you he landed somewhere around there and taxied around that cliff,” he said.

  “Taxi?” Elektra asked.

  “He?” Coin said, slapping two hands on her waist. “The hell makes you think the pilot’s a man? See, this is why I didn’t want you to save this guy, Brone. Sexist fuckin’ prick.”

  “Who you callin’ sexist?” Number 73 grimaced.

  For the first time, his anger came out. His brows, dark and unevenly shaped, came so close together they cast a shadow over his eyes. “You don’t know nothin’ about me, so keep your damn opinions to yourself.”

  “What?” Coin asked, puffing out her chest. “Now I’m not allowed to have an opinion? You’re the man, right? So we should be listenin’ to you.”

  Scoffing, he rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he was fuming inside. “The fuck is wrong with you? I ain’t got nothin’ but respect for women. You’re treatin’ me like I’m some goddamn rapist ’cause I’m a man.” Saliva sprinkled off his pale, peeling lips, and he wiped it with his tied hands. “Like I came here on purpose to take advantage o’ you all. It ain’t like that. Like you, all I want is to go back home. I got a wife and a little girl waitin’ for me.”

  “Sure, that’s the perfect—” Coin started.

  “Both of you, shut the fuck up,” I said. “Enough of this battle of the sexes bullshit.”

  Befo
re Coin could keep arguing, I jabbed a finger in the air at her. “You’ve obviously had some shitty experiences with men, and I get that.” Redirecting my pointed finger at Number 73, I added, “But all this guy’s done for us is help us. So, you need to tone it down and stop picking fights for nothing.”

  “And you,” I said, now glaring at Number 73, “you’d better get your anger under control.”

  He nodded, almost expressionless.

  Still glaring at him, Coin crossed her arms and tightened her lips.

  Out of nowhere, Number 73 smiled sweetly and nodded at Elektra. “Hey, kid. Taxiing means drivin’ the plane on land. Usually to get ready for takeoff, or to get out of the way after landing.”

  Elektra beamed. “Let’s go find the taxi plane!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Although not well-versed in airplane terminology, I knew it was a private jet by its size and slick appearance. It reminded me of the type of plane you’d see in the movies—the type men and women wearing fancy suits and matching sunglasses—typically presidential staff—would walk toward on the runway.

  Two red streaks were drawn on either side of its body, and its wings were positioned overtop of the plane. Its body, which was unlike anything I’d ever seen before, reminded me of a whale. Its belly was curved and fat, which wasn’t at all what I remembered planes looking like. Four propellers sat at the front of the wings—two on each side. Unlike large passenger planes I’d seen before, these weren’t hidden inside of large cylinders; they were open, like mini helicopter blades. Along the side of its tail was written E905—or at least that’s what it looked like from this distance.

  “Holy shit,” Coin said, slapping a hand on Biggie’s chest.

  Biggie grimaced and peeled her fingers off. “Don’t you be touchin’ my titties.”

  “Sorry—” Coin mumbled, staring at the plane. “I don’t see anyone, do you?”

  Rocket turned to me. “It’s like they just left it there.”

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “The pilot,” Number 73 said, “man or woman… could be sittin’ inside. And that thing is probably a Cyclone.”