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)
“Fuck! Fine!” Rona storms out from under the meat table.
Blood trickles down my arm as we run out of the shelter, holding on to each other for support.
We run, our arms locked together. The water comes up past our ankles, and it’s sloshing around like an angry ocean of waves.
“Hurry!” I call out.
We make it to the stairs, both of us grabbing on to the railing with both hands and forcing our way up one step at a time, the wind battering us.
I didn’t make it this far to only make it this far.
Rona’s hands cling to the back of my shirt as I fight my way to the door and get the key out. I block the wind with my body, getting it in quickly and opening the door.
The door whips open and slams against the wall. Rona and I both grab it and push, but it’s not enough. It barely moves.
I wedge myself between the back of the door and the wall, using my whole body to push on the door. Rona does the same, both of us straining from the effort.
Finally, it closes. I hold it shut while Rona flips the horizontal metal security bar into place and latches it.
Suddenly, it’s quiet. Water pours off of us, pooling on the wooden floorboards.
I drop into a sitting position. I can’t move anymore. I can’t even think. So I just sit, waiting for my heart to slow to its regular pace for the first time in several hours.
11
Awareness is the most important part of defense. Trust your instincts and always pay attention to your surroundings. When interviewed after use of force incidents, a majority of officers stated that they sensed something was wrong before the incident began.
- Excerpt from a police training manual written by Ben Hollis
Twenty-four hours later, the rain hasn’t let up. It’s a roaring sheet of nonstop hammering against the metal roof. The roof held through the worst of the wind, which came while we were both sleeping.
It was a battle for a few hours, the storm howling in its dogged effort to pull off the sheeting above us, and the roof rattling at times, but never giving in.
Rona and I are both dressed in our dry second set of clothing, our clothes from yesterday hanging by the door on makeshift rope clotheslines. They’re still dripping, everything so soaked it will take days to dry.
“So...how are you feeling?” I ask Rona.
I can’t see her in the pitch black of the windowless room, but I think she’s awake. For around twelve hours, I slept through much of the storm, but I don’t know how much she slept. We’ve just been lying on our sleeping pallets for hours, only speaking occasionally about the storm.
It takes her about thirty seconds to respond. “I don’t know. I’m okay.”
After all this time alone in the darkness with my thoughts, I’m feeling restless. I get to my feet and stretch my arms, reaching my fingertips toward the ceiling.
We usually work and sleep different shifts, so I don’t usually get to talk to Rona, especially now that I don’t work in the kitchen anymore. I test the waters.
“Weird things have been happening to me since I got here. Did you go through anything like that?”
She hums a note of amusement. “Yeah.”
I hesitate, then say, “But we aren’t supposed to talk about it, right? People here run faster than they should be able to and can pick up things they shouldn’t be strong enough to pick up. I shouldn’t have been able to run as fast as I did yesterday, and—”
“It’s the island.”
I twist my body at the waist, first to the left and then to the right. “What does that mean, though? That the island is magic?”
“I guess so.”
“Does it bother you? Not knowing for sure?”
There’s a shuffling sound as she gets into a sitting position. “Nope. I’m just trying to stay alive. Not get beaten to death in the circle or starve to death.”
There’s a tinge of bitterness in her voice. I should just drop it, but I don’t have any other allies here. I’m not just in the dark in this room right now, but in every respect of this place. Whatever is responsible for the changes in people here—even if it is magic—it seems to be cumulative.
The fours can run the fastest and jump the highest. They’re the ones chanting “peace, order, prosperity” the loudest.
I’m worried that the slower I am at finding answers and trying to get off this island, the less I’m going to want to. I don’t want to become a loyal soldier and breeder for Whitman. I won’t.
“Has there always been a food shortage here?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been here for like...six months? I guess it’s been worse lately, but it’s all about how much fish and game the hunters can get.”