by Amy Cross
Chapter Nineteen
Iris
Today
“What are they doing to the woman in that hut?”
Still holding Nissa's hand, I lead her around the bonfire. To be honest, I really don't want to risk her hearing anything she shouldn't, and I'm worried that sooner or later Ripley will do something that causes Doctor Phillips to cry out. Nissa's already curious, and even now she's looking over her shoulder as if she wants to go back and try peeking into the hut where Ripley's carrying out his interrogation.
“I hope he's not hurting her,” she continues. “I know she was mean to me, but that doesn't mean I want anyone else to do nasty things to her.”
Stopping, I turn and crouch down in front of her, and I give her the hand signal that means she should stop worrying. We're at the edge of the camp now, barely in the glow of the bonfire's flickering orange light.
“Can I go and talk to her after he's finished?” she asks. “I want to show her that I'm not scared of her.”
I shake my head.
“I want to show everyone that I'm not scared,” she continues. “I want to -”
“No,” I say suddenly, or at least I manage a word that sounds a little like no.
Nissa's eyes open with with shock.
Taking a deep breath, I try to stay calm. “No” is one of the very few sounds I can still just about make, even though I no longer have a tongue. I've been practicing on my own, out in the forest, hoping against hope that somehow I can start to talk again.
I raise my hand and wipe it across my face, which is my way of telling her to forget what she just heard.
“Was my mother ever scared?” she asks.
I pause, before nodding.
“When?”
I wish I could tell her about Vargas and Jude and Harold and all the other things that happened ten years ago, but my home-brewed sign language isn't quite that sophisticated. Sometimes I've thought that perhaps I could find a way to write it all down, but it's not as if we're blessed with vast quantities of material. Besides, she's heard the story from other people a few times, and their versions haven't been that far from the truth.
“Was she scared when she died?” she asks.
I try to work out how to answer that question. Before I have a chance to come up with anything, however, I spot something moving in the darkness beyond the fence. I flinch, worried that we might be under attack, but then I realize I can see the silhouette's figure.
It's her.
She never usually comes this close, but maybe she wants to hear Nissa's voice again. Either that, or she read the note I left earlier and she wants to know more about what's happening.
“I bet she wasn't scared,” Nissa continues. “I bet she was so not scared, and I bet she was brave, braver than anyone else here. I bet she died in a huge battle, fighting monsters and bad guys and saving everyone else on the island. I bet she sacrificed herself for the good of all the other people who live here.”
I look at the silhouetted figure for a moment, before turning to Nissa.
“I might not be like her yet,” she tells me, “but I will be one day. When I grow up, I'm going to be just like my mother. And if she could see me now, she'd be proud.”
I nod.
Behind her, about twenty feet away, the silhouetted figure doesn't move.
“Or would she be disappointed?” Nissa asks, and now there's real uncertainty in her voice. “Would she know what happened on the boat today? Maybe she'd think I'm an idiot.”
I shake my head.
“Do you think people can come back from the dead?” she continues. “I heard someone talking about ghosts once, about the idea that dead people can come back and see things and talk to us. Do you think that's true?”
I pause, before shaking my head again.
“Maybe she's out there,” Nissa adds. “Maybe somehow she can see me. Maybe she saw what happened today and -”
Suddenly there's a faint rustling sound in the forest. Nissa turns to look, just as the silhouetted figure steps out of view behind a tree. For a moment, I'm worried that Nissa might have seen, but then she turns back to me.
“It was probably just the wind,” she says cautiously. “Wasn't it, Iris?”
I nod, but a moment later I spot Asher's silhouette heading around the edge of the camp. She's being way more bold than usual, but it takes a few seconds before I realize that she's heading toward the hut where Ripley is interrogating Doctor Phillips. I hesitate for a moment, before turning to Nissa and giving her the hand signal that means it's time for her to go to sleep.
“But I don't want to,” she whines. “I want to -”
I indicate that the decision is final, and then I make my way back past the bonfire. I can see the interrogation hut in the distance, and I'm starting to worry that perhaps Asher came here tonight with some kind of plan in mind. Not once over the past ten years has she come this close to Steadfall. Now, suddenly, it seems that the presence of this Doctor Phillips woman has drawn Asher out of the forest. As I reach the hut, I look out at the forest, but there's no sign of anyone.
And then, a moment later, I hear a brief gasp of pain.
Whatever Ripley's doing to Doctor Phillips in there, it's clear that he's taking a very physical approach.
A few seconds later, there's another gasp, followed by a sudden snapping sound.
And then a faint but persistent whimper.
For a moment, I consider going in there and telling Ripley to stop what he's doing. The last thing I want is to think of myself as someone who condones torture. At the same time, I don't like this woman's sudden arrival on the island and I want to get to the bottom of her presence. I don't have to agree with what Ripley's doing, but I don't have to stop him either. Maybe I can just stay out of it until morning, and then -
“Bastard woman!” Ripley hisses, suddenly stumbling out of the hut, clutching his right hand. There's blood dribbling down to his wrist, and after a moment I see that the skin is badly torn.
From inside the hut, there's a faint chuckle.
“She bit me!” Ripley continues, wincing at the pain. “She bit me so hard, I think she broke my little finger! I heart it snap!”
He stumbles away toward Olivia's makeshift hospital, leaving me standing outside the hut. Just as I'm about to go inside, however, I spot the silhouetted figure out in the forest again.
“Does anyone else want to come and have a try?” Doctor Phillips calls out. “That chap wasn't nearly as impressive as he looked!”
I hesitate for a moment, before heading over to the fence.
And then she's gone.
I let out a faint cry, but the figure is already out of sight, and I know there's no way she'll heed any calls to come back. Clearly Asher was sufficiently curious to come and check whether this Doctor Phillips woman was really here, but I guess now she has her confirmation.
Whoever Nicole Phillips is, she's clearly someone who – one way or another – means a great deal to Asher.
Chapter Twenty
Asher
Many years ago
“Do you hear them?” a voice hisses in the dark, as my head is pulled further back. “Do you hear the crowd, baying for your blood?”
I try to pull free, but his grip is too tight. I haven't seen this guy, but I can tell that he's big, and I honestly don't think I can fight him off. Even as I try, however, I realize I can hear cheers in the distance.
“You tourists always make me laugh,” the voice continues. “Patrick and the others hang around and pick you guys off whenever you venture out of the buildings. Did nobody warn you what it's like down here, pretty lady? You're about to get your arms and legs ripped off, and then we'll see what those folks out there wanna do with what's left of you. Most likely, there'll be a bidding war for your organs. A nice little auction.”
I try again to break free, but he's holding me in place with just one big, muscly arm that's locked around my neck. With his other arm, he's reaching down an
d running his bulky fingers over my body.
“You wanna see what life is like without any rules?” he asks, spraying the side of my neck with hot, foul-smelling saliva. “Fine. Here goes nothing. Welcome to the abyss. This is where people show who they really are.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Iris
Today
“I say we cut her throat,” Ripley mutters as Olivia finishes cleaning the wound on his hand. “It doesn't matter what she's planning then, does it? We just cut her throat and burn her, and that's the end of it.”
“She might not be working alone,” Olivia points out, glancing at me.
I pause, before nodding.
“Then let the others come,” Ripley sneers. “We won't be so patient next time. We'll cut 'em down before they have a chance to get close.”
“Do you remember Tom Deckard?” Olivia asks me.
I nod again.
“He told me once,” she continues, “that we have a duty to welcome new arrivals as if they're friends. That doesn't mean being naive, or letting our guard down, but Deckard was convinced that we had to at least keep our optimism. He said that if we assume the worst about everyone, we'll end up destroying everything we're trying to build here.”
“He sounds like an idiot,” Ripley mutters. “Whoever he was, he sounds hopelessly -”
Suddenly he lets out a gasp of pain. He tries to pull his hand away from Olivia, but she holds it firmly while glancing at me with a faint smile.
“Sorry,” she says calmly. “I'll try to be more careful.”
Getting to my feet, I step around the fire and look out across the camp area. Now that morning has come, everyone is working hard. Nissa usually loiters near the men who chop wood, begging for a chance to wield an ax and complaining that nobody will let her, but this morning there's no sign of her. I know I shouldn't let myself get worried too easily, but at the same time I'd like to at least spot her once, just so I know that she's fine. Making my way across the open space, I continue to look around until finally I reach the spot where several women are skinning rabbits.
There's still no sign of Nissa.
“I haven't seen your little pal,” one of the women says. “If that's who you're looking for, she's not been around here all morning.”
Stepping past her, I head toward the huts at the far end of the clearing. I'm still not allowing myself to panic, not yet, but deep down I've got a feeling that Nissa might be trying in some way to prove herself. The encounter with Doctor Phillips on the boat yesterday clearly left her shaken, and I'm worried she might have come up with some harebrained scheme. All I need is to spot her, so I know she's here and she's safe, and then -
“Iris!”
Turning, I see that Carmichael is hurrying this way.
“I don't want to worry you,” he says as he reaches me, “but we might have a problem.”
***
“It's not my fault the poor fool ran away after I bit him,” Doctor Phillips says, rolling her eyes, “and it's not my fault that while he was gone, nobody was guarding the door. And it's definitely not my fault that during that short period, the little girl came in and spoke to me.”
She stares at me for a moment, and slowly her smile grows.
“She was only here for a few minutes,” she adds, “but we did have time for a little chat.”
“What did you say to Nissa?” Carmichael asks.
“Ask her yourself.”
“We would, but we can't find her.”
“Oh?” She chuckles. “Well, that's odd. I wonder where she might have gone.”
I step closer to her, and for a moment I want to grab her neck and shake the truth out of her.
“Relax,” she continues with a sigh. “My hands and ankles are bound, and I'm not in the habit of biting people. I didn't hurt a hair on her head. Nor would I have done, even if I'd been able. The truth is, that little girl has more intelligence and more strength than the rest of you put together. I came here to find Asher. I genuinely had no idea that I'd find a little copy of her.”
“What did you say to her?” Carmichael asks again. “Where is she?”
“I don't know where she is,” Phillips replies, “but as for what I said to her, don't you think it'd be unfair of me to discuss such things? I had a private conversation with the child, and what was said is really none of your business.”
“You're going to tell us,” Carmichael sneers, “and you're going to tell us now.”
Stepping past the chair where Phillips is restrained, I head over to the assortment of sharp flints and stones that Ripley was apparently planning to use. Spotting a knife on the ground, however, I pick it up and head back to the chair, and then I grab Phillips and pull her head back before placing the knife's blade against her neck.
“Oh,” she gasps, “are you threatening me?”
Staring down at her, I wait for her to tell me what she said to Nissa.
“You won't hurt me,” she continues, even as I press the blade harder against her skin. “What use would I be as a corpse? Why would -”
Suddenly she lets out a gasp of pain as the blade slices through her skin. The cut isn't too deep, not yet, but a moment later a trickle of blood runs down her neck.
“Ow,” she says with a faint, pained smile. “You're really trying to act tough, aren't you? Shame your -”
I slice the blade across her skin, and she lets out another gasp as more blood runs from the wound. I've by no means cut deep enough yet, but now I can see a flicker of fear in her eyes.
“I told the girl to go out into the forest,” she says finally. “I told her that whatever she wants to know, she won't find the answers here in this miserable little joke of a settlement. Honestly, after all this time I thought you'd have made a more impressive town, but this place is pathetic. I'm sure little Nissa realized that, especially once I pointed it out, and deep down she must have realized I was telling the truth.” She pauses, still staring up at me. “And you know I'm right, don't you?” she adds. “The truth... the thing she's looking for, the thing she wants most in the world... It's out there in the forest. It's waiting for -”
Before she can finish, I slice the knife across her throat. Filled with anger, I toss the blade aside and head to the door, before stopping and looking back at Phillips.
She's clearly in pain, but the knife didn't cut her jugular. Instead, there's simply some blood running down from her neck to her collarbone, but she'll be fine.
“What are you so worried about?” Phillips asks, keeping her eyes fixed on me. “Apart from the murderers and the rapists and the cannibals and the psychotic lunatics out in that forest, what could possibly hurt a nine-year-old girl? She'll be fine!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Asher
Many years ago
“No!” I scream, but it's too late. The chains pull tight, hauling me up from the ground and swinging me wildly through the air as a spotlight aims straight at my face.
The roar of the crowd is deafening. Something slams into me from behind, sending me swinging wildly to the far side of the chamber, where I feel a thick hand grab my ankle. I try to kick the hand away, but another hand grabs my other ankle and I'm pulled closer and closer. I wriggle wildly, trying to get away, and a moment later some kind of fluid sprays against the right side of my face.
“Leave me alone!” I shout, trying to kick the hands away as I feel somebody grab my foot. “Touch me again and you die!
A roar of laughter fills the air, and I hear a loud metallic screeching sound as the spotlight swings across the chamber and aims once more at my face. At the same time, I finally manage to kick the hands away from my feet, which at least allows me to swing back to the center. Hanging down from chains that are wrapped tight around my wrists, I try desperately to get free, but I can already feel the chains' metal edges starting to tear through my flesh.
“I told you she was a feisty one!” a familiar voice calls out. “She came down here to save us, but it hasn
't quite worked out how she expected!”
There's more laughter, as I turn and look around at the crowd. There are hundreds of people packed into this small theater, and I can see men and women and even children watching me with hunger in their eyes. Some of them are eating, others are drinking, and many of them are holding what look to be homemade poles and spears. While some members of the crowd are wearing masks and oxygen equipment, others are bare-faced and almost naked.
“She's an ex-soldier,” Patrick continues. “I bumped into her tonight, and I immediately knew she'd be a good sport. Believe it or not, luring her here was a piece of cake. I guess she thought we'd be pleased to see someone from one of the towers.”
“Let me out of here!” I scream, struggling again to get free of the chains. I can feel blood trickling down my arms now, but I have to keep trying. “Let me -”
Suddenly I feel a massive jolt of pain run through my back. I swing wildly, and for a moment I can't see anything at all. As my eyesight returns, I look around and see that a woman from the crowd is holding a stick out toward me. At the end of the stick, there's a small electrical charge gun that's flickering with power. The bitch just stuck that thing into my back and gave me a shock.
“Do you wanna try that again?” I sneer.
She cackles with laughter and swings the stick at me. I manage to swing out of the way, but then she tries again and this time she hits my left knee. Another burst of pain ripples through my body, and this time it takes several seconds before I'm able to swing myself away.
“She's fit and healthy!” Patrick shouts. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think this is gonna be an all-nighter. I know I promised you dinner, but I think she might have to be breakfast again.”
“No!” I shout, as the woman swings the stick at me again. This time I manage to kick the tip away, but this only causes her to laugh as she adjusts her grip and tries again.
The stick's tip digs into my chest and I scream as another bolt of energy ripples through my body. I try to swing away, but the tip remains attached to me for several more seconds, only moving away as I feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. For a moment, I can't move my body at all, and I can feel thick saliva dribbling down my chin. Finally, however, I force myself to stay awake, and I see that the bitch is already getting ready to poke me again. She's grinning like a maniac, and the people in the seats close to her are cheering her on.
