Page 10 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)
In law enforcement, we all face danger, provocation and disrespect. How we respond in these situations is a reflection of our character. Emotion is a part of our job. Our duty is to always maintain emotional control in high-stress situations.
- Excerpt from a police training manual written by Ben Hollis
The next morning, I wake up more rested and clear-headed than I’ve been since I got here. Before, I was like a kite on a still day. I knew I wanted to get off this island, but it was a huge, intangible goal that was overshadowed by just trying to survive.
Seeing the emotionless child soldiers being drilled yesterday was the powerful gust of wind I needed to fly.
It all makes sense now. Whitman is using the people of Rising Tide to breed soldiers. Those kids are probably being psychologically programmed along with all the physical training. I don’t know where their supernatural skills come from, but that’s beside the point.
It’s cruel to create children just so they can serve. No matter the cause. I can’t worry only about myself now that I know the truth.
“Hey, kid.” Billy passes me a wooden bowl of murky, watery broth.
My stomach roars in protest, but I smile at him and say, “Thanks, Billy. It looks good.”
A corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “It’s an old family recipe.”
I sit down by myself at a table. Pax told me to meet him here at eight this morning. I felt guilty snoozing my way through the camp alarms at five thirty and six o’clock, especially when Rona had to get up to come to work. The extra rest was nice, though.
I’m not sure what time it is, but I know it’s not eight a.m. yet. I take my time with the warm broth, sipping it slowly. Some people at other tables are talking and laughing, while others stare forlornly into empty bowls. I wonder how many of them know what’s happening to the children here.
“You’re fucking dead!”
I snap to attention, setting my bowl down. Everyone in the dining shelter turns to look at the man who yelled. He’s stalking toward us, his blond hair unkempt and his expression unhinged.
A woman stands up from her seat as he walks into the shelter, putting a palm on his chest. “Hey, take it easy.”
He pushes her arm aside. My skin prickles with awareness of approaching danger.
His furious attention is locked onto someone, and people are starting to get up and scatter.
I’m on my feet, about to move, when the man wraps his hand around the back of another man’s neck.
He yanks him from his seat, the other man yelping with alarm.
“You got her pregnant! You fucking asshole. You knew I wanted her.”
Before I can even process what’s happening, the wild-eyed man is shoving the other guy into one of the shelter’s thick wooden support posts.
His hold on his victim’s neck lets him smash the man’s face directly into the post, the squishing and crunching sounds with each hit sending my heart rate soaring.
“You! Fucking! Knew!” He slams the man’s face into the post over and over again, blood running down the wooden surface.
“Adler, stop.” A tall, muscular man wearing a four bracelet barks the order, putting his arms around the attacker’s midsection to pull him away.
The body of the man he killed falls limply to the ground. His head is halfway gone, the force of the hits so powerful that it broke his skull into pieces.
“What the hell happened?”
Virginia Marsden races up to the two men. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a close look at her. She’s lean, like everyone here, the lines in her face making her look like she’s in her early thirties. Her blond hair is secured in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.
The four, who’s holding on to Adler, waits for him to speak, and when he doesn’t, he locks eyes with Virginia.
“Rodriguez was sitting here eating when Adler pulled him up and did that to him.” He gestures at the body on the ground.
A muscle in Virginia’s jaw tics as she turns to Adler. “Well?”
Adler’s expression has morphed from madness to contrition. He looks like a different man now, fear swimming in his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have done it.”
She shakes her head. “What a waste. You could have called him into the circle.”
His shoulders slump. “I know. I just...my rage just took over. I couldn’t control it.”
She pulls a knife from its holster on her hip, then turns to look at those of us still gathered here. There are around three dozen people, all of us silent. Some are deliberately looking away, but others, like me, can’t help but look at Virginia.
“Briar.”
My stomach rolls as she says my name. How does she know who I am? And what could she possibly want from me?
“Y...” I clear my throat, keeping my chin up despite my worry. “Yes?”
“Which of our tenets did Adler violate with this attack?”
Peace, order and prosperity. I almost say peace, but I change my mind at the last second. She didn’t want the dispute to be avoided; she wanted it to take place in the circle.
“Order, Commander.”
I’ll play the part of an eager Rising Tider while I have to. No more questioning anything. I could easily end up like Rodriguez if I’m not careful.
She nods, turning back to Adler.
“Robert Adler, for taking the life of another Rising Tider outside of the circle, I sentence you to death.”
He shrinks back, another four joining the first one to hold him in place. He screams, the sound cut short when Virginia swiftly runs her knife across his throat.
I’ve seen a lot of violence and death since the virus came, but I still feel the same horror every time. We didn’t unite to rebuild after most of the planet’s population was wiped out without warning; instead, those of us who remain are killing each other.
It’s disappointing, but not at all surprising.
Of all the ways I’ve seen people die since the virus came, I think beheadings are the worst. It’s horrible watching someone’s head get lopped off their shoulders. A head without a body is a shocking sight, as is a body without a head.
But seeing that guy Rodriguez go from eating breakfast to no longer having a face in less than a minute was a violent wake-up call for me. If I’m going to get through this, I have to be smart. Careful.
“Watch it.” Pax grabs my elbow and pulls me back a couple of steps.
“What did I do?”
“You were about to step on a scorpion.”
I look back, finding a dark-brown scorpion that blends in perfectly with the forest floor. It has a venomous stinger, and though I have my pants tucked into my boots Rising Tide style, I wouldn’t have wanted to risk a sting.
Pax is taking me on a long trek through the island’s jungle to search for edible plants. I’ve already put three samples in the woven reed basket he’s carrying on his back.
We’re taking one of the paths Rising Tide’s hunters use. It’s washed out in places and it requires walking single file.
It feels like we’ve been heading away from camp for around three hours. My clothes are soaked completely through with sweat—not the best look for a woman in a white T-shirt.
I’m curious how big this island is. Based on the scarcity of game, I assumed it was fairly small. Now, I suspect it’s just been so heavily hunted that there isn’t much left.
The dull thunk of raindrops on the canopy far above us signals the start of an afternoon rain shower. They’re usually fast, furious and short. Only a few stray drops make it to us; the rest are stopped by the dense tree ceiling.
Pax turns and calls to me over his shoulder. “This kind of ruins my surprise, but hopefully you’ll still like it.”
The thick jungle opens up, revealing the source of the dull roar I’ve heard in the background for the past fifteen minutes or so. A towering waterfall, about four stories tall, gushes into a crystal clear spring at its base. Even as the rainfall intensifies, I stare at the waterfall with awe.
It’s spectacular. The first beautiful thing I’ve seen in this tropical hell. My throat tightens as I think of my mom. This is one of those moments that sustains me in a world without her. Everything is connected, like she said, and the part of her that loved nature will always be with me.
I open my arms and look up to the sky, the waterfall’s spray and the rain washing over me. This island is like a rose, and all I’ve seen until now are the ugly, prickly thorns. The waterfall is the velvet-soft, bright pink flower I get to inhale the sweet scent of now.
The children I saw yesterday should be playing here, splashing and swimming and laughing. I wonder if they even could if they were brought here. I need to believe it’s at least possible.
The rainfall lightens. At the edge of the spring, a trailing vine with a yellow flower grows, and I bend to examine it.
A splashing sound makes me look up. Pax is knee-deep in the spring, wearing nothing but a grin.
“Come on in. It feels amazing.”
By his loaded tone, I know he’s not just talking about the water. My quick glance at his naked body makes a needy ache bloom between my thighs. I want to strip my clothes off and go to him, my breasts heavy, sensitive and desperate for his touch.
I close my eyes. Where is this coming from? I don’t find it sexy that he brought me here and got naked when I wasn’t expecting anything like this. Even if I wanted to have sex with him—which I don’t—I can’t risk getting pregnant.
Having babies is natural. It would make him so happy.
The thoughts popped into my head unbidden, making me gasp and grasp my forehead. How did that happen? Did Pax put those thoughts in my head?
I know it’s impossible, but my gaze goes to him anyway. His eyes are molten, hunger written all over his face as he palms his erection and strokes himself.
“Don’t fight it, Briar. You want this, too.”
The ache between my thighs intensifies. I do want it, but I also don’t. My mind is fighting itself.
It would be nice to just feel good for a few minutes. To not worry about anything else.