by Amy Cross
“Don't bother,” I reply, feeling as if something has been pulled from my chest, leaving just a hollow cavity. “I have nowhere else to go.”
“Focus on the positives, Iris. Just because you're going to the mines, that doesn't mean your life has to be over. Despite popular opinion, it is possible to get by once you return to society. You can live a perfectly decent life, provided you stick to the rules. I can help you, maybe even... Well, we'll get to that later.” He pauses, before opening the door.
“You knew,” I say suddenly.
“What was that?”
I turn to him. “You knew my sister was dead,” I continue calmly, “and you still used her to manipulate me. You got me to give you information.” Staring at him, I can see the hint of guilt in his eyes. “And all along, you knew.”
“I feel very sorry for your situation,” he replies, “but... I still have a job to do.”
I pause for a moment, before nodding. “You do it very well.”
Chapter Fourteen
Asher
I shove a handful of leaves into my mouth and chew them as quickly as I can, before spitting the wet, saliva-filled mess back into my palm. Jude showed me how this works once, she told me that it acted as a kind of paste to keep infection at bay, and I just have to pray that it'll be strong enough to help.
Reaching down, I start wiping the paste against the injury on her head. I know I need some myself, but I use everything on Jude before sitting back and waiting, hoping, that she might start to wake up.
“Jude?” I say after a moment, my voice trembling with fear. “Please, you can't die. Don't leave me here alone.”
I wait.
No response.
Hearing a faint murmur from nearby, I turn to see that while the woman and the Australian guy are definitely dead, the guy with the stones is starting to stir despite the knife wounds in his belly. Filled with anger, I get to my feet and make my way over, and before he can get up I crouch next to him and place the blade against his neck.
“Wait!” he hisses. “Stop!”
“You hurt my friend,” I reply, trying to stay calm even though I want to cut his goddamn throat open. “You tried to kill us both.”
“Kill or be killed,” he stammers. “Help me and maybe we can work together.”
“Help you?” I glance at his belly and see that he's lost a lot of blood. “You're beyond help,” I tell him. “Even if I wanted to do something, it's hopeless. You'll bleed out in a few minutes.”
“Help me,” he says again. “Please, I don't want to die. Not here, not now, not like this. I can help you if you help me. I'm useful, I swear.”
“You didn't listen to me,” I continue. “You're way, way beyond help. There is literally nothing I can do for you, and even if I could patch you up, why would I? You damn near killed my friend. Why the hell would I lift a finger for you?”
“That's how it works,” he replies, his voice already starting to sound weaker. He winces, reaching down to his gut as more dark blood leaks out. “It's how things are on the island. You must know that, we all... I thought Cullen and Penny were strong, so I stuck with them, but now I can help you. Please, I...” He pauses, and I can tell that he's staring to lose consciousness. “If you save me,” he continues finally, as his eyes start to slip shut, “I'll tell you a secret.”
“Go to hell.”
“I know how to contact them,” he whispers. “They don't tell you, but there's a way. The ones who... I was waiting for the right time, but I know where they are, I can... Show you... I've worked it all out, the real reason for the island...”
“You're delirious,” I tell him, “and a liar, too. Everyone knows what the island's for, there's no mystery.”
I wait for a reply, but his head lolls back and I figure he's unconscious. Realizing that there's nothing left for him except pain, I turn the knife and drive it into his chest, piercing his heart. He doesn't move at all, so I guess he was probably already gone, but there's always a chance I saved him a few extra seconds of agony. Pulling the knife out, I wipe it clean against the grass and then get to my feet, heading back over to Jude.
“Hey,” I say as I kneel next to her, “are you awake?”
She doesn't reply, of course, and I feel a shiver of fear in my chest.
“You can't die on me, you know,” I tell her, as I pull a few stray strands of her hair out of the paste on the side of her head. “That's not fair. Remember what I was like when we first met? We're good together, we work well as a team. I need you.”
I wait.
Silence.
“Here's a deal,” I continue, leaning closer to her unconscious face. “If you pull through, I promise we'll do what you suggested, we'll find somewhere to set up and we'll build a place of our own. I don't know how we'll do it, I don't have a clue, but that's another reason why I need you. No more random wandering about, okay? We'll make our own place, maybe we'll even let other people come and join us, but it'll be our little settlement right here on the island and no-one'll ever be able to tell us what to do. Deal?”
Again, I wait.
Nothing.
Reaching down, I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze, before shaking it gently.
“Deal,” I tell her, before sitting back and looking around at the clearing. “Then again,” I mutter, “I guess I shouldn't move you just yet, so we kinda have to stay here for a while. I turn back to her. Even though I know it's dumb to be talking out loud like this, I can't help clinging to the hope that somehow she can hear me, and that my words might make her stronger. “We've got no choice,” I add, “so I guess this is it.” Taking the knife, I drive it into the ground until only the hilt is sticking out. “We can call it...”
I pause.
There's one obvious name, but maybe I should hold off for a little while.
“You can choose the name,” I continue finally. “When you wake up and get better.”
Chapter Fifteen
Iris
“All prisoners must remain orderly during transit,” the automated message says for the thousandth time as we shuffle forward. “Transit time is estimated at two hours and forty minutes.”
Ahead, on the far side of the huge hall, several large transit buses are waiting for us to board. All around me, other prisoners are either staring at the buses with stony-faced expressions, or are making nervous small-talk and little jokes about life in the mines. I had no idea there'd be so many of us today, but I guess the prisons are always full to bursting point.
Still, all I can think about is my sister.
And Bran.
Since Logan made me face the truth, it's as if barriers have come down in my mind. It's hard to believe how easily I was able to fool myself, to construct an imagined reality, but I guess I was desperate for some way to stay focused. All those times I talked to Della about my ten year plan, I was really just talking to myself and using Della to give myself motivation. Now the motivation is gone and I feel an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. My future is all about the mines now, and about disappearing into the darkness. There's a part of me that hopes I'll never come back, because coming back would mean having to work out what to do with my life after I'm released, and it would mean accepting what I did to Bran and his friends. Maybe in some twisted way, those soldiers did me a favor by framing me for robbing the old woman. At least I'm not living a fantasy anymore.
“Get a move on,” a familiar voice mutters, bumping into me from behind.
Turning, I see the woman from last night, the same one who taught me about the orphanages.
“Nice,” she says with a smile. “That eye looks painful. You can thank me later, when you realize people leave you alone more 'cause they think you're tough. You were too pretty before.”
I turn away from her. It's tempting to ask her to finish the job on me, or to get her to tell me how I can end this misery as quickly as possible. As we all shuffle forward a few more paces, I watch one of the buses heading away, with
another swiftly gliding in to take its place.
“I heard they got taken to the city,” a female voice says nearby. “I doubt they'll be coming back from there.”
“Darius Locke was a blowhard,” someone else replies. “He just wanted the attention.”
I turn and see that two elderly women are talking in the next line.
“What did you say about Locke?” I ask. “Was he captured?”
They both turn to me, and for a moment they seem almost offended that I dared speak to them. “He and his friends were picked up in sector G, or H or something, last night,” one of them says finally. “It was on the news in the main office when I was being processed, the government found where he was hiding and sent a whole squadron of soldiers in to tear the place apart. Got a whole load of his friends, too. They didn't even bother with a trial, they just whisked them off to the city and we all know what that means.”
“What does it mean?” I ask, trying not to panic.
“It means they've already decided what to do with them,” she continues. “They're not gonna use them for propaganda, in case they become martyrs, so they'll just quietly disappear.”
“Move on!” a guard shouts, and I realize that in my daze I failed to notice the line moving. There are just a dozen or so people ahead of me now, and as the latest bus moves off, another arrives and I can tell this is the one I'll be taking.
I take a few more steps forward, while trying to make myself believe that Logan will keep his word about Bran.
“Back to the mines,” says a woman nearby, with a heavy sigh. “Great. Nothing to do down there except work and think. The work I can handle, I've never been afraid of hard work, but it's the thinking that gets to me. All that time to go over and over every goddamn mistake in your life. I reckon at least half the so-called accidents down there are actually just people who can't take their own thoughts anymore and step in front of a machine. Maybe that's not such a bad idea.”
I step forward as the bus begins to fill. Just a few more seconds now until I climb on-board.
“Six months in the mines,” the woman continues, “feels more like six years to a troubled mind. There's no -”
Turning suddenly, I push past her and hurry back against the flow of the lines, forcing my way back toward the entrance at the rear of the hall. My heart is pounding and I feel as if I might pass out at any moment, but the thought of going down into those mines and spending six months in darkness with just my regrets and guilt for company... It's too much, and I'll do anything to avoid it, even if that means embracing the one alternative that's open to me, the one thing that I thought was only for the truly insane.
“Where the hell do you think you're going?” a woman asks as I slip past her.
I don't reply. Nothing matters anymore except getting to the guards at the rear of the hall and telling them what I want. It takes a moment, but finally I reach them just as two guns are raised toward my face.
“What's up?” one of the guards asks, with a smirk on her face. “Decided you want an appeal against your sentence?”
“I -” I start to say, before stopping as I realize the madness of what I'm about to do. “I...”
“If you need to pee, that's tough,” the guard continues. “Get back in line, prisoner.”
“All prisoners must remain orderly during transit,” the automated message says yet again. “Transit time is estimated at two hours and forty minutes.”
“I invoke my right to...” Pausing, I feel as if I can't get the words out, but finally a kind of strength seems to solidify in my chest. “I invoke my right to choose the island instead.”
The guard stares at me, as her smile slowly fades.
“Don't be ridiculous,” she says finally, tapping the barrel of her gun against my shoulder. “The island's for lunatics. You're not a lunatic, are you? Get back in line.”
“I have the right to go there,” I tell her, as my sense of panic starts to fade. Somehow, this actually feels like the right thing to do. “It's the law, it's the one law that matters to me right now, and you can't talk me out of it.”
I pause, before holding my hands toward her with the wrists pressed together, ready to be cuffed. For the first time in days, my hands aren't shaking.
“My name is Iris Bloom,” I continue, “and I demand to be taken to the island.”
Chapter Sixteen
Asher
I spend four days alone, clearing the area and trying to come up with a plan, before finally one evening I hear a rustling sound nearby and turn to see that Jude has begun to sit up.
“Hey!” I shout, hurrying over and kneeling next to her. “Careful. Just stay down for now.”
Her eyes are barely open, and she hasn't looked directly at me yet. Instead, she reaches up with one trembling hand and touches the wound on the side of her head, where I've been adding fresh paste three times a day.
“No,” I tell her, gently moving her hand away, “don't disturb it.”
I wait for her to say something, or at least for her to look at me, but she still doesn't seem quite awake yet. Instead, it's as if she's in some kind of daze.
“We got attacked,” I continue, figuring that maybe she doesn't remember. “There were three of them, there's no way we should have survived, but I think you played dead for a moment and then you saved the day. You're a hero.” I force a smile, hoping that she might show some hint of recognition, but there's nothing. “You took a couple of big whacks to the head, though,” I explain, “and you got knocked out. I was worried about you for a while, but I've been keeping busy, trying to tame this place. I thought we could settle down here, at least for a while. Does that sound good?”
When she doesn't reply, I lean closer and look into her eyes. I feel a shiver in my chest as I realize that while her left pupil is enlarged, the right pupil is pinprick small.
“It's still early days,” I tell her, trying to stay calm and cling to the hope that she'll be fine. “Let's not rush your recovery, okay?”
I wait, but she doesn't seem able to focus on me. Her lips are trembling a little, as if she's trying to get some words out, but finally she starts to settle back down. Her eyes slip shut and after a moment I check her pulse again, but she's still alive.
“Just rest,” I whisper, before leaning down and kissing her forehead. “You're going to be fine. I promise.”
Chapter Seventeen
Iris
“You realize this is madness, don't you?” Logan asks, sitting on the edge of the desk as he watches me with a cautious expression. “Iris, the island is for -”
“I don't care,” I say firmly, keeping my eyes fixed on him. “It's my right.”
“The island is for political dissidents mostly,” he continues with a sigh, “although... Well, granted, lately it's become a little more open. You're absolutely correct when you say that you have a right to go there, all prisoners have that right, but please, you have to be serious. The island is a permanent move, it's the end, it's ridiculous to choose to go there when all you have to do in the mines is work for six months.”
“I don't care,” I tell him, struggling to hold back tears. “I choose the island.”
He pauses for a moment, still eying me with concern. “Do you even know why the island was established?”
“Everyone knows. This is an informed decision.”
“The island was -”
“I know!” I tell him, and for the first time I let a little anger slip into my voice. “I know,” I say again, more calmly. If I shout, I'll start crying, and there's no way in hell that I want this bastard to see my tears.
“The island was established as an alternative,” he continues. “By the twenty-second century, humanity had reached crisis point. We were no nearer to getting off this little planet of ours, but it was becoming increasingly clear that certain individuals within the global population needed to be able to leave society and strike out alone. That wasn't possible by then, because the whole planet was under th
e control of one government or another. In the old, old days it was possible for dissidents to run off to some new, uncharted land and start again, and humanity needed that option to still be available for people. Otherwise, we'd have carried on killing one another.”
“I know all this,” I reply. “I went to school.”
“I think you might need a refresher,” he continues, “because if you really understood the island, you wouldn't want to go there.” He pauses for a moment. “The island was established in the middle of the Pacific Ocean as an artificial land mass with no rules, no laws, no government, no cameras, no technology, no anything. Just land, some grass, trees, a few rivers and animal species... Anyone who wanted to leave human civilization behind was allowed to go there and try their best, free of society's so-called restrictions but also without any of its benefits. At first, people who went there weren't even allowed clothes, they were dumped naked onto the ground and left to fend for themselves. Eventually they were given one gray tunic to wear and a knife so they could hunt, but apart from that, they were on their own.”
“That's what I want.”
“And it's estimated that between ninety-five and ninety-eight per cent of people who go there, are dead within their first day. Do you want that as well?”
“I want to get away.”
“Going down into the mines -”
“I want to get away and never come back.”
“Most of the people who go to the island are hardened criminals,” he continues. “No-one sane or smart would ever -”
“I'll take my chances.”
He sighs. “You're better than this.”
“I'm a common criminal,” I point out.
He sighs again.
“If I go to the mines,” I continue, frustrated by his refusal to accept my decision, “I'll spend six months in the darkness, with only my thoughts and memories for company, and I think we've already established that I don't deal with those situations too well. I'll end up jumping in front of a machine to end it all. At least if I go to the island, even though I won't last long... At least I'll be free.”
