The Abyss (The Island Book 3)

by Amy Cross

  Then again, occasionally I spot a flash of movement as one of the enemy troops moves in front of the ring of lights, so I guess I'm not completely blind out here.

  “Go to hell!” I scream, firing at a silhouette that briefly runs in front of the lights' bright glow.

  I don't know whether I hit anyone, but it's not like I have any other option. Right now, all I can do is stay right here – on my belly in the cold mud – and shoot anything that moves until eventually one of the lasers hits me, at which point I at least won't know much about what happens. So long as they get a clean shot and blow my head off, there'll be no pain.

  “I got one!” Mads shouts triumphantly, before tilting her gun and firing in toward some nearby trees. “I swear, I saw the bastard fall!”

  “That's great!” I reply, firing in the same direction as more blasts tear through the air just a few feet above us. “If we can get one more between us, that'll even everything out when they eventually blow our asses away!”

  Chapter Three

  Iris

  Today

  “What would my mother have done about the boat?”

  Turning, I find that Nissa has caught up to me as we make our way through the forest. I've been walking alone so far, with Ripley and Carmichael a little way up ahead, but I guess I should have known that Nissa would want to talk eventually.

  “Would she have been cautious,” she continues, “or would she have gone in there and dragged the survivors out?”

  Even if I had a tongue, I don't know where I'd begin answering that one.

  “I bet she'd have gone in with all guns blazing,” she says with a smile, as if she likes the idea of her mother having been a bad-ass. “I bet she'd have taken charge of the situation and done everything right. Not that you don't do things right, Iris, but I've overheard people talking about my mother. They all seem to think she was this amazing leader who fixed problems every time they came up. I bet if she was still around, no-one'd dare try setting a trap for us.”

  I hold a finger up, which is my way of reminding her to be cautious.

  “I know,” she continues with a sigh, “but I'm the daughter of a great warrior. It's only natural that I'm a lot like her. I am like her, aren't I?”

  I think about it for a moment, before nodding. I'm sure Asher would hate to be described as “a great warrior,” but the last thing I need right now is to burst this kid's bubble. Besides, the boat at the beach is probably going to turn out to be nothing more than a heap of junk, so hopefully we can get back to our normal routine by nightfall. That's what I'm counting on, at least, because the alternative – the idea that the outside world is finally coming to disturb us again – is too horrible to contemplate.

  “But there's something I don't get,” Nissa continues. “If my mother was such a great leader, then...”

  She pauses, but I know what she's going to ask.

  “Then why did she die?” she adds finally, furrowing her brow. “Shouldn't she have lived forever, or at least for as long as other people? I know no-one wants to talk about it much, but I'm nine now. Don't you think I'm old enough to know the truth about what happened to her?”

  “There it is!” Ripley yells up ahead, and I see that he's pointing toward the glittering ocean that's now visible between the trees.

  And sure enough, I can just make out the sight of a small white yacht that looks to have run aground on the cable that surrounds the island.

  “Okay,” Nissa says loudly, “let's go get these -”

  She stops as soon as I put a hand on her shoulder, and I follow that move up with a brief wave of my hand, which is supposed to encourage a little caution.

  “It's just like the others described,” Ripley says as I reach him. “It looks like an old pleasure yacht. The kind rich people used to take out for fun.”

  Peering between the trees, I can see that he's right. The yacht seems to be about thirty feet long, and it sure doesn't look like something you'd use for a vast journey across the ocean. Nevertheless, here it is, and there's no obvious sign of damage, at least not on this side. I take a step forward down the hill that leads to the beach, but so far I can't see anything to suggest that there are people on the yacht. Not living people, at least.

  “Wouldn't the cable have fried them?” Carmichael asks as he comes with me.

  I shrug.

  “Maybe the hull protected them,” Nissa suggests, stopping next to me again. “Or maybe they have some kind of defensive system. Or maybe the cable shorted. Or maybe -”

  I hold a hand up to indicate that she needs to quieten down for a moment.

  “It could be a trap,” she whispers. “My gut's telling me it's a trap.”

  Glancing down at her, I can't help raising a skeptical eyebrow. She's nine years old and she's already claiming to have a gut instinct when it comes to traps. I admire her confidence, but I'd quite like her to exercise a little more caution. Just enough to keep her from getting killed as soon as a real threat shows up.

  “That cable is supposed to be an insurmountable barrier,” Ripley points out. “Nothing should be able to get through. Or even close. I'm surprised that boat hasn't already burned to cinders.”

  “Maybe the cable's broken,” Nissa suggests.

  “Impossible,” Ripley replies. “They'd never let that happen.”

  “Who wouldn't?” she asks.

  “The people who run this island. The government.”

  “But maybe -”

  “Can you shut up for a moment, kid?” he adds, clearly getting impatient. “I'm going to take a closer look.”

  He starts making his way down toward the beach, and after a moment Carmichael goes with him.

  “Maybe nobody's maintaining things like the cable anymore,” Nissa says after a moment. “After all, people have said that it's been years and years since the last new arrivals came. Maybe the government forgot all about us.”

  I want to tell her that's not how it works, but then again I guess I have to admit that she might have a point. After all, ten years ago I heard a radio message from Harold Mars, promising swift and brutal revenge against this island, and since then...

  Nothing.

  “Come on!” Nissa says suddenly, running down the slope that leads to the beach.

  Hurrying after her, I almost lose my footing several times. By the time I reach the edge of the forest and stumble out onto the sand, I see that Nissa has caught up to Ripley and Carmichael, and that all three of them are standing at the shoreline. I look both ways along the beach, to make absolutely certain that there's no sign of anyone else, and then I start heading over to join the others.

  “We can't get too close,” Ripley says, turning to me. “As far as we know, the cable is still active.”

  “Then why hasn't it burned the hull of the boat?” Nissa asks.

  I turn to her.

  “Someone told me about electricity,” she continues. “I learned a lot, and -”

  “Can someone shut that kid up?” Ripley mutters, wading a little further out into the shallows but then stopping again. “The glow at night has been intermittent for a while now. It's definitely possible that the charge has been dropping, but we still can't risk it. In the old days, if anyone swam too close to the cable, they got fried.”

  “But it's not like that now, is it?” Nissa continues. “Look for yourselves!”

  I place a hand on her shoulder, hoping to calm her down a little.

  “Hello?” Carmichael yells, putting his hands up to his mouth in an attempt to amplify his voice. “Is anybody there?”

  We all wait, but all we hear is the sound of the waves, along with occasional bumps as the tide tries to dislodge the boat from when it's become caught on the cable.

  “Maybe it's a trap,” Ripley mutters.

  “Or maybe they think we're a trap,” Nissa points out, before turning to me again. “It's obvious there's no electricity there! Not anymore! We have to go out and take a look!”

  I shake my
head.

  “Why not?” she asks.

  I cross my wrists together, which is our sign for something being too dangerous.

  “But it's not!” she whines. “Come on, it's obvious! We can go out there!”

  “Think about this for a moment,” Ripley says, as I turn to him. “There's no way a little yacht could have happened to sail out here without somebody noticing. There's supposed to be no shipping within miles of the island. Anyone who wandered this close should have been intercepted long before they hit the perimeter. Which leaves us with two possibilities. Either they were let through deliberately, or for some reason the government decided not to stop them.”

  “Or couldn't stop them,” Carmichael adds.

  I turn to him.

  “We don't know what's been going on in the outside world over the past decade,” he continues. “Maybe there have been changes.”

  I shake my head. If I could speak, I'd tell him he's a fool.

  “It's possible,” he says. “Things might have gotten better.”

  “Or worse,” Ripley interjects. “Things might be a thousand times worse out there. Things might be so bad, the government doesn't even need to bother thinking about us. Maybe they control everything now.”

  “Either way,” Carmichael continues, “we have to be extremely careful how we deal with this yacht. We can't make any sudden, rash decisions.”

  I pause for a moment, before nodding.

  “So we need to come up with a plan,” he adds. “A calm, careful, methodical plan that -”

  “Hey, you guys!”

  Startled, I turn and look for Nissa. At first I don't see her, but then to my horror I spot her standing on the yacht, waving her spears at us.

  “I told you it's safe!” she yells. “Come on! We've got to find out where this thing came from!”

  Chapter Four

  Asher

  Many years ago

  Another laser beam rips through the air above us, missing the top of my head by inches. That must be the tenth shot that's come close over the past couple of minutes, and I'm very much aware that we're riding our luck out here.

  “They're probably going to come around behind us!” I yell, looking first to the left and then to the right in case there's any sign of enemy soldiers trying to sneak up on us.

  “Use your visor!” Mads shouts.

  “It's broken!”

  “What did you do to it?”

  “I don't know, but does that really matter right now? The point is, it doesn't work!”

  Spotting movement ahead, I aim my Mag-Gun and fire, blasting a tree. I have no idea whether or not I hit anyone, but I can't afford to waste ammunition by firing blinding into the dark. My heart is racing and I know that within a few minutes we're going to be sitting ducks. Looking over at Mads' gun, I see that she's already down to less than 10% of optimal energy, but she's still firing freely.

  Either she doesn't realize she's low, which is unlikely, or she figures it doesn't make much of a difference either way.

  “Oh hell,” she says suddenly, turning to me, “I think I know why the main weapon hasn't been used on us.”

  I watch the ring of lights coming closer and closer, and then I glance at her. “Why?”

  “It's me! It's the tech I'm carrying! What if they want to capture me alive, so they can use it?”

  “They probably have that kind of tech already!” I point out.

  “But maybe they think ours is better.”

  “I don't see how that helps us,” I reply, before spotting movement in the distance and letting off a single shot. “If we attack, we die. If we try to retreat, we die. If we stay here, we die.”

  The lights under her skin briefly light up as her skeletal implants start running more simulations. I can see the fear in her eyes, and I know the results of the simulations are being entered into her stream of consciousness. I honestly can't imagine what it'd be like to have a computer feeding its data directly into my brain, but right now I'm glad that at least Mads has this capability.

  “There's nothing,” she says finally, looking toward the circle of lights. “The computer just expects us to try to take out as many of them as possible before we die.”

  I can hear the engines of the warship starting to boom through the forest now. The lights are just part of the advance weaponry system, and I know that the actual ship itself is hundreds and hundreds of meters long. Each warship is fronted by a ring of weapons that burn bright as they fire, and most tactical analyses have assumed that they're unstoppable. We've certainly never identified any kind of weak-point in their defenses. I've seen these things in the daylight, albeit from afar, and I know that there's no way we can simply hide and let a full-loaded warship simply sail past. It'll be on top of us in about two minutes' time, and then we'll either get blasted apart by laser fire or crushed into the mud.

  “We've got no choice, then,” I say finally, feeling a cold shudder pass through my chest. “This is it.”

  “Maybe we can try something else,” Mads suggests.

  “You know that's not possible,” I reply. “If we run, we'll have our backs to them. At least if we move forward, we can keep firing until the end. And who knows? Maybe the two of us can take out four or six of even eight of them. That'd be a net gain or our side, right?”

  “It wouldn't be much of a net gain for you and me,” she points out.

  “At least we'd die fighting,” I mutter, checking my Mag-Gun one final time. My hands are trembling, but at the same time I know there's no other way out of this mess. And in some small, crazy way, I feel just a little calmer as I run through the pre-attack checks that were drilled into my mind back at the academy. I mean, sure, I now have slightly less than 10% of my ammunition remaining, but I can still cause some damage.

  “They're going past!” Mads hisses suddenly, nudging my arm and then pointing past me. “Look!”

  Turning, I see several silhouettes in the distance, running between the trees. They must be able to see us, but evidently they don't think it's worth coming over and trying to take us out.

  “Bastards!” Mads continues. “I heard about this. Sometimes they just don't bother engaging, not if they don't see any benefit. Way to make a girl feel special.”

  “They know they can just grind us into the dirt as they go past,” I mutter.

  “So let's prove them wrong,” Mads replies, suddenly grabbing my hand and squeezing tight. “Asher, it has been an absolute pleasure.”

  I open my mouth to ask what she means, but then I realize she's saying goodbye.

  “And I'll miss those nights,” she continues, “when I used to sneak into your bunk. I know what I used to say at the time, but deep down, I kinda woulda maybe been interested in sneaking in again later on. If we'd survived the war, that is.”

  “Me too,” I reply, before I even know what I'm saying.

  “So let's not get sentimental,” she adds, letting go of my hand and quickly checking her weapon. “There'll be time for that if we wake up somewhere cool once we're dead. Get ready to go on my mark, okay? And take as many of these bastards out as you can manage.”

  I nod, even though I'm terrified.

  “Ready?” she continues.

  I nod again.

  She hesitates, and I can tell that she's not entirely sure about this. The threads of light are glowing beneath the skin on her cheek and neck, which means the computer is running at full processing power. And then, just as I think that maybe some other idea is going to present itself, Mads adjust her grip on her gun and then yells:

  “Now!”

  We both stumble to our feet at the same time, standing right in the path of the vast circle of lights.

  Screaming, I aim forward and start firing, blasting the lights with laser beams. Mads is firing too, and even though I know the odds of actually damaging this monstrosity are low, it feels good to actually make a stand.

  So I keep screaming and firing, even as the noise of the engines becomes deaf
ening, and even as the lights become blinding. I keep screaming right up until the moment when a vast explosion tears the ground from beneath my feet and sends me flying through the air.

  Chapter Five

  Iris

  Today

  “There's nobody onboard,” Nissa announces proudly as I haul myself out of the water and onto the boat. “I've already checked!”

  Struggling to get over the edge, I finally manage to clamber onto one of the seats. Ripley and Carmichael are already checking the boat's far end, but I take a moment to catch my breath before turning and scowling at Nissa.

  “Impressed?” she asks with a smile.

  Getting to my feet, I head over to her. If I could speak right now...

  “Okay,” she continues, “I get it, you're a little bit mad, but I knew it was safe to swim out here. The boat's hull showed no sign of charring, and there was no light in the water. I've learned a lot about how electricity works, and it was blatantly obvious that for whatever reason, the cable isn't working. At least not at this part of the perimeter.”

  I raise a finger to my lips, letting her know she should shut the hell up for a few minutes.

  “Once I got onboard,” she adds with a grin, before turning to the others, “I checked to make sure that there's nobody hiding anywhere.”

  Ripley opens a door that leads down into what looks like a cabin.

  “There are just some old-fashioned charts in there,” Nissa explains.

  “The odds of a drifting boat just happening to end up here are infinitesimally small,” Ripley mutters. “It has to have been steered her intentionally.”

  “That's what I thought too,” Nissa announces.

  Ripley turns to me and rolls his eyes. Clearly I'm not the only one who's finding Nissa to be a little hyper today. More hyper than usual.

  “The weather's been pretty good lately,” Carmichael points out. “I used to have a pretty good idea of how to navigate a boat, but...”

  His voice trails off. He stares out at the sea for a moment, before turning to me.

  “Do you find you forget stuff over time?” he continues. “Stuff from your life before the island?”