The Abyss (The Island Book 3)

by Amy Cross

  I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure I agree.

  “There are some supplies onboard,” Nissa says, bounding down into the cabin and opening the cupboards. “I estimate there's enough left here to last someone two weeks. It's mostly canned food, but we can use that, right? We can take it.”

  “I'm sure as hell not leaving it behind,” Ripley says, heading to the rear of the boat and then leaning down to inspect the engine. “There was a lot of wind last night. Might've disguised the sound of a boat approaching, although...”

  He turns and looks along the shoreline. First in one direction, and then the other.

  “This thing might attract attention from other people on the island. We shouldn't be shocked if we get company later in the day.”

  He turns to me, and I nod.

  “But it's ours, right?” Nissa continues. “We got here first, so it belongs to us.”

  “It belongs to whoever can stop other people taking it,” Ripley points out. “I reckon we've got as good a chance as most.”

  “I think we should take the supplies back to Steadfall,” Nissa announces confidently, “and someone should stay here to guard the boat. I volunteer to take the first watch.”

  I shake my head.

  “You know I can do it,” she adds.

  “If this thing can be brought back up and running,” Carmichael says, heading over to help Ripley examine the engine, “and if there's any fuel left, we could potentially use it to get away from the island.”

  “And why would we want to do that?” Ripley asks him.

  “I didn't say we did. I just said it's a possibility.”

  “You guys talk too much,” Nissa says, standing in the doorway that leads down into the cabin. “Come on, we've got our hands on a real, live boat here! I've never even seen a boat before! We have to get it up and running, and then we can all leave the island forever!”

  I raise a finger, which is one of my ways of urging her to calm down a little.

  “If we did everything your way, Iris,” she continues, “we'd still be on the shore, looking out at this thing and not knowing anything about it. Come on, can't you see that sometimes we have to just get on with things?”

  I keep the finger raised. At some point, she has to understand that a little caution can be a good thing.

  “I'm going to check for more supplies,” she says, turning and clambering back down into the cabin.

  I bang a fist against the side of the boat, trying to get her to come back up.

  “Don't worry about anything, Iris!” she yells back to me. “If there's more food here, we can take it back to Steadfall and we'll be heroes! Don't you want to be a hero?”

  I shake my head, but I guess nobody's paying too much attention.

  Sighing, I head over to where Ripley and Carmichael are still checking the engine. They're discussing whether or not it could be made to work again, but it's quickly apparent that there's no fuel left. As the boat continues to gently bob up and down, snagged on the cable, I look both ways along the beach. There's still no sign of anyone else coming this way, and in truth we've seen few signs recently of other life on the island. That doesn't mean they're not out there somewhere, however, and I wouldn't be surprised if some day another Vargas turns up. The past ten years have given me a pretty cynical view of human nature.

  And then, suddenly, I realize I can hear somebody sobbing nearby.

  I look around, and a moment later Ripley and Carmichael turn to me. They must hear it too, but we stand in silence for a moment as we listen to the sound.

  “Iris!” Nissa screams suddenly. “I'm -”

  Suddenly she's cut off.

  Hurrying to the door that leads into the cabin, I'm about to go inside when suddenly I see Nissa being shoved up the steps. There's a woman right behind her, blackened and sunburned, and she has an arm clamped tight around Nissa's neck and a gun aimed at the side of her head.

  “If anyone makes a move,” the woman gasps, her voice sounding impossibly dry, “I'll blow this little bitch's head clean off her body!”

  Chapter Six

  Asher

  Many years ago

  Spitting out mud, I try to lift myself from the mud. The whole world is echoing all around me, and I can barely see properly, and a moment later I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder. I think the blast must have knocked me out for a moment, and I feel a rush of dizziness when I try again to get to my feet.

  “Asher!” a voice shouts suddenly, grabbing my arm. “We have to retreat!”

  Turning, I'm shocked to see that Mads has already found me again. She's injured, with blood running down one side of her face, but it's actually her! And then, blinking, I remember standing in front of the warship and firing like a maniac, and I remember the explosion that blew me off my feet.

  “Asher!” she hisses. “Move! We've got orders to drop back to the original insertion point. There's more cover there, and we can regroup for another push. Right now, we're out-numbered and we're losing too many people!”

  “How do you know?” I stammer.

  “The radio came back on for a moment,” she explains. “We don't have to throw our lives away after all!”

  “We can't retreat!” I tell her. “If we -”

  “Move!”

  Pulling me between the trees, she forces me to duck as the energy beam slices through the air above us. Several more trees come down, slamming into the wet ground, as individual energy blasts are sent flashing toward our position. When I turn to look back, I see that the warship is still coming, smashing through the trees while foot-soldiers approach through the darkness below.

  “What is that thing?” I stammer.

  “Don't freak out on me now!” Mads shouts, aiming her gun and then firing several blasts at the enemy.

  “Who are they?” I ask. “Who are we fighting?”

  “For real?” she hisses.

  I turn and fire some shots into the darkness, and now I'm down to less than 2% energy on my Mag-Gun. There are shapes up ahead, hurrying between the trees, but I can't make them out properly and I can't see exactly who or what they are. I feel dizzier than ever, but at least when there was no hope, I felt I could be brave. Now that Mads is suddenly talking about rejoining the others, I find that my hands are trembling more than ever.

  Suddenly a blast fills my vision and I fall back. The shot misses me by inches, but a moment later I hear a cry as Mads slumps to the ground. Crawling toward her, I find that she's taken a direct hit to the chest, and the damage has broken through her armor. Blood is flowing from the wound, and she lets out a gasp of pain as she tries to get up.

  “Run!” she shouts. “Asher, you -”

  Before she can finish, blood starts bursting from her mouth. She tries to speak, but she simply brings up more and more blood.

  “I'm not leaving you,” I stammer, grabbing her arms, ready to pull her to safety.

  “Run!” she gurgles.

  Hearing a loud creaking sound, I turn and see that the warship has begun to turn, heading straight toward us through the forest. The circle of lights is aimed almost straight at us again.

  “Don't get yourself killed,” Mads whispers, sounding weaker by the second. “Asher, leave me! Get the hell out of here and go back to join the unit!”

  Ignoring the advice, I start pulling her across the damp ground, but after a moment I stumble and fall. By the time I've managed to get up, the warship is even closer, sending trees crashing down all around us. For a moment, all I can do is stare up at the vast lights of the machines as it starts to fly directly over us. The engines are deafening, whipping the air all around into a gale and causing the ground to shudder.

  “Run!” Mads screams, her voice barely audible as the warship's engines enter a new surge-cycle. At the same time, the blast from the cannon is burning the air.

  Nearby, foot-soldiers are screaming. Are they on our side, or are they the enemy?

  “Asher, run!” Mads shouts. “Get out of here!”<
br />
  “Medic!” I scream, hoping against hope that someone from our side will hear me. “I need a medic!” I look around, but all I see are dead bodies scattered throughout the forest. “Medic!”

  “Asher!” Mads continues. “It's too late!”

  Filled with panic, I aim my gun straight up and start firing futilely at the warship's brightly-lit underside. The shots bounce off harmlessly, of course, and a moment later I realize foot-soldiers are getting closer and closer. Turning, I aim at them and fire, blasting them as fast as possible. They return fire, but their shots miss while I manage to hit two of them almost immediately. I want to charge at them, but instead I drag Mads further away, forcing myself to ignore her cries of pain until finally I manage to duck down behind an earth-bank.

  “Okay,” I stammer, “we -”

  “Don't touch me!” she hisses, pushing my hands away.

  “I'm trying to help you!”

  “I'm dying, you dumb bitch!” she shouts, as more lasers hit trees in the distance. Reaching down, she tries touching the wound on her chest, but she immediately winces and pulls her hands away. Now, however, her fingers are covered in her own blood. “Oh hell,” she continues, “it hurts. It hurts so goddamn much, Asher.”

  As she speaks, the left side of her face lights up. The computer attached to her skull is running overtime, probably trying to find a way to save her.

  “I know what it's going to do,” Mads says suddenly, her voice filled with horror. “Oh God, I know what's coming next.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “I'm going to get you to the medics!”

  “They put a billion-dollar computer inside me!” she hisses, as more blood runs from her mouth. “Do you know what that means?”

  “It means -”

  “It means those of us who entered the program were given a warning at the start. If we get hurt real bad, the computer will save itself, no matter what.”

  “I don't know what you mean.”

  “Kill me!” she gasps, grabbing my gun and trying to aim it at her face. “Kill me before it does what it's going to do!”

  “What's it going to do?” I shout.

  “The computer's attached to my bones!” she continues. “It's a skeletal enhancement! When the chips are down, the computer is programmed to save itself, no matter what that means for the rest of me!”

  “Mads -”

  “Damn it!” she gasps. “Okay, I want out! If anyone can hear me, I've changed my mind!”

  She taps at her communication badge, but there's no tell-tale beep to indicate a connection has been made.

  “I don't want this anymore!” she screams. “I'm withdrawing my consent! I gave it before, but I'm withdrawing it now and -”

  Suddenly she reaches up with her left hand and grabs the side of her head. Still screaming, she starts digging her fingertips into the skin around her cheek and temple.

  “Mads, what are you doing?” I shout. “I'm going to get you out of here!”

  “It's ejecting the flesh part!” she screams, as tears stream down her face. “It's -”

  Before she can finish, her own hand starts ripping her skin and flesh away. She lets out a pained gurgle, but I can only watch in horror as she tears her face clean away from the front of her skull. Blood pours from the wound, and one of her eyeballs gets caught on a fingertip, causing the pupil to get ripped away. Mads' fingertips scrape against the exposed bone as she finally pulls her face clean off, and a moment later she tosses the lump of bloodied flesh to the ground.

  And then she screams again.

  Her mouth opens wide and she lets out an agonized cry, but her hand is already scraping her exposed skull again, this time tearing away her scalp along with all the flesh on the left side of her head. Pushing her helmet aside, she rips the flesh away and then throw it aside, and now all I can see is her skull with various electrical components attached to her jaw and cheekbones. The computer's lights are flickering wildly, but Mads' hand is still scraping away as much flesh as possible until finally she lurches forward and starts gouging a hole in the side of her neck.

  “Mads,” I stammer, “what -”

  She gasps again, but then she turns and looks straight at me. Her remaining eye is twitching in its socket, although now I can see several small cameras arranged in a circle on the bloodied bone of her forehead.

  “Extraction activated,” a calm voice says, speaking from a speaker embedded in her neck. “Subject -”

  And then a shell slams into the ground right behind her, blasting her forward with such force that her bony face hits the side of my forehead and knocks me out cold.

  The last thing I feel is an immense wall of heat, and I hear the sound of somebody screaming. It think it might be me.

  Chapter Seven

  Iris

  Today

  “Steady, lady,” Ripley says, as the boat bobs gently beneath our feet, “don't do anything rash.”

  The sunburned woman – her skin peeling and blistered – still has her arm wrapped tight against Nissa's throat, and she still has a gun aimed at the side of her head.

  Nissa, meanwhile, is sobbing uncontrollably, and her whole body is trembling. A moment later, hearing a faint tapping sound, I look down at her feet and see that she's soiled herself.

  “I thought she said there was no-one on the boat!” Carmichael whispers.

  “She's nine years old,” Ripley points out. “She might be cocky, but that doesn't mean she knows what she's doing.”

  “Iris,” Nissa whimpers, “please -”

  Before she can finish, the woman pulls her back and tightens her grip around her neck.

  Nissa cries out, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

  I hold my hands up, hoping to calm things down a little.

  “Who are you?” the woman asks, with her eyes fixed on me.

  “We're from the island,” Ripley tells him. “We -”

  “I want her to talk!” the woman sneers, still watching me. “Not you two assholes!”

  “She can't talk!” Ripley continues. “She's got no tongue!”

  Figuring that I need to prove that he's telling the truth, I open my mouth and do my best to let the woman see my tongue's gnarled stub. As soon as I do so, an expression of disgust fills the woman's eyes.

  “What the hell's going on in this place?” she mutters. “I thought it was supposed to be survival of the fittest around here?”

  “Help me, Iris,” Nissa sobs, “I just -”

  Suddenly she screams as the woman pulls her back even tighter.

  “I don't like kids!” the woman hisses into her ear. “The only reason you're still alive is that I might need to trade you for something!”

  Tears are streaming down Nissa's face now, and her bottom lip is trembling. For the first time in a while, she looks like what she is: a scared nine-year-old girl who's way out of her depth.

  “You don't want to hurt a child,” Ripley says after a moment. “You're still the only one here with a gun, so you might as well let her go as a sign of good faith. Then maybe we can talk about what you want.”

  “We don't even know that she's got ammunition,” Carmichael whispers. “She might -”

  Suddenly the woman raises her gun and fires into the air, before quickly aiming the gun at the side of Nissa's head again. Nissa lets out a terrified shriek and squeezes her eyes tight shut, but the woman keeps hold of her.

  “I've got enough ammunition to have just wasted that shot,” the woman points out. “Trust me, I'm not too worried on that front.” She pauses, before looking past us and watching the beach for a moment. “Am I here? Am I finally here?”

  “That depends where you think you are,” Ripley mutters.

  “Don't act smart,” the woman replies. “Is this the island? The one where they send people?”

  “What's your name?” Carmichael asks.

  “Eve,” the woman snaps back at him. “That's what you can call me, anyway.”

  “Well, Eve,”
Carmichael continues, “you look like you've had a long journey. That's some nasty sunburn you've got. I'm guessing you've been out at sea for a long time, all alone.”

  “Not alone,” Eve replies. “Not at first, anyway. There were three of us, we can call the others Adam and the snake, but they...”

  Her voice trails off, and I can't help noticing a faint twitch that seems to be afflicting her left eye.

  “How did you get past the patrols?” Ripley asks. “The government has patrols in these waters, to prevent -”

  “You're kidding, right?” Eve snaps, before starting to grin. As she smiles, flakes of burned skin lift from the sides of her face and reveal the pink flesh beneath. “The government hasn't given a damn about this place for a long time now. They told everyone the place had been shut down and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. It was only blind faith that gave us any hope of finding you at all, but a friend gave me the coordinates and I trusted him. If you think the government still has the time and resources to give a crap about this goddamn island, then you're even dumber than you look. Which would be quite an achievement.”

  “Tell us, then,” Carmichael says, taking a step toward her. “What's going on back in the real world?”

  “It's hell,” Eve replies. “We're losing the war, that's what's happening. There are explosions in the streets nearly every day, and I'm not even from the worst-hit city. The government keeps pumping soldiers out to restore order, but it's not working. They don't even have enough soldiers, so they use badly-trained kids instead, and they only end up making the situation worse. It's all falling apart.”

  “Are you serious?” Ripley asks, with a hint of wonder in his voice. “After all these years, are those pricks finally losing control?”

  “Yeah, don't celebrate too fast!” Eve sneers. “Might just be that the next pricks who come along are gonna be even worse!”

  “That's hard to believe,” Ripley mutters.

  “Do you know what you're talking about?” Eve shouts, tightening her grip around Nissa's throat but suddenly aiming the gun at Ripley's face. “Have you been there recently? Or have you been sitting here on this island, oblivious to the crap that's going on in the real world? We're losing the war! And no matter what you thought of the government, at least they had things under control! At least there was order in the streets!”