Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I curl up, turning my face toward the ground to get a break from the rain. With every shallow breath, I get a nose full of earthy soil and decaying leaves.
I’m not dying here. Not in this jungle, not on this island. Every day since the virus has been hard in one way or another. And so damn lonely.
My parents begged me to stay on the small island where my summer botany internship was being hosted when the virus hit, to minimize my chances of getting it. Then the electrical grid and cell towers went down.
It took me more than a month to get to their house, and when I did, it had been ransacked by looters. The virus killed almost everyone, and I know my parents and sister are most likely included in the death toll.
But not knowing for sure, or how, or when, or if they were together—those are the things that haunt me. I didn’t just lose my family but also the only people in the world I could trust.
Friends who were part of the research project turned on me, and on each other. If not for the small revolver my father insisted I keep with me at all times, I never would have made it back to the mainland.
I have to be close to Rising Tide. Bracing my hand against the tree, I turn and get to my knees, a wave of anger hitting me out of nowhere.
This island might be sentient. The scientist in me can’t believe I’m even having the thought. But there are no scientific explanations for thoughts that aren’t my own popping into my head, or children who can jump twelve feet into the air.
Somehow, this island may be inside me. Inside everyone here. It may have an agenda, and if it does, it’s not good for any of us. But it can’t have me. I’m not rolling over and letting this place mindfuck me.
I don’t have my family, but I have everything my parents taught me. I have a bond with my sister that can’t be undone by anyone—or anything.
Biting off a groan, I rise to my feet. My head aches and I can hardly see through the thick sheets of rain. The inches of water pooled at my feet shouldn’t have been able to accumulate in a matter of two hours, but on this island, there are no rules.
I put my head down and keep going. As long as I’m not running into trees, I’m still on the path. And as long as I keep moving, I’ll get there.
A gust of wind slams into my chest as I leave the jungle, sweeping my feet out from under me.
“Briar!”
Pax reaches down to help me up, his hair blowing in every direction and water trails running down his bare chest.
“Take shelter in your room!” He’s yelling, and it’s still hard to hear him over the howling wind and pouring rain. “There’s a hurricane coming!”
I nod and head toward the room I share with Rona, my boots sloshing through standing water that almost reaches my ankles.
Hardly anyone is out at camp. I pass a few fours running with backpacks full of supplies, but no one else. A rectangular section of metal roofing just misses slamming into me as it blows past.
I need to get into the room soon. Staying out in this is too dangerous.
Clutching onto the handrail, I climb the stairs to our second-level room. A hunger pain punches me in the gut. Billy, Olin and Rona would normally be working in the kitchen now, but they’re probably all holed up in their rooms like everyone else.
The housing is built from mortared concrete blocks, so it should be a safe place to ride out a hurricane. And hopefully, a dry one. I really want to get out of my soaking wet clothes and boots.
My room key is still safely stashed inside my bra. I get it out, stumbling from the force of the wind. It’s hard to see, but I manage to get the key into the keyhole.
I swing the door open, my eyes scanning the dark room for Rona.
She’s not here.
I huff in aggravation. Of course she’s not here. Not getting electrocuted or shot with an arrow back at the waterfall are the only things that have gone right today.
I step inside, taking shelter while I think about it. She could be sheltering in someone else’s room. I don’t think she’d be looking for me, because she knew I was with Pax.
As much as I want to close the door behind me and strip off my soaking wet clothes, I can’t do it. I lock the door back up and head toward the stairs, cupping a hand over my eyes so I can see through the downpour.
It’s getting heavier. I hold on to the railing as I go down the stairs, knowing time is critical. Soon this hurricane will be uprooting trees and killing anyone who dares get in its way.