Page 18 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

There are dozens of failures for every one breakthrough. But those moments of progress are the most exciting of my career. Of my life. I’m starting to believe we can do this.

- Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain

Water leaks from the bamboo door to my earthen prison, a stream hitting my hair and rolling down my shoulder. It’s raining. I can feel the same rain the Rising Tiders can, which connects me to the real world.

I’m not completely alone. I hate that I have to keep reassuring myself of that. It’s ironic that I like to keep people at arm’s length, but I also fear being alone. Physically alone, that is. Inside, I’ve been alone for a long time, because it’s better that way. Safer.

“Roses. I haven’t done roses yet.” I return to one of the mental exercises I’ve been doing for the three days I’ve been stuck down here. “Kingdom: plantae. Phylum: magnoliophyte. Class: magnoliopsida. Order: rosales.”

Light from above silences me. I look up hopefully.

“Hey, are you okay?”

It’s Pax. The first day I spent down here, I was a ball of fury who wanted to tell both him and Virginia to go fuck themselves. But sitting alone in darkness for so long has mellowed me considerably.

“I’m okay.” I stand, droplets of water dripping from my clothes. “Can I get some water?”

“I’m sending the buckets down. I’m sorry it took me so long to get back.”

At least he’s here. He comes once or twice a day, bringing me a bucket of water to drink and a bucket to pee in.

I’m exhausted. I only sleep for short stretches down here. The water at the bottom of the hole has finally receded into the ground, so I’m not sitting in water anymore. I’m still soaking wet, though, the humidity not allowing any part of me to get completely dry.

Marcelle occupies my thoughts. I run through how I can attack her in the circle.

If my mind stays intact, I can beat her.

That’s a big if , though. The longer I’m down here, the more thoughts of killing Virginia and fucking Pax flood my head.

I don’t want power, and I don’t want to be on this island, but I’ve started fantasizing about killing her and taking over as Pax’s co-commander.

I’m losing control of my mind. It’s getting worse, and as someone who believes in science, I have to follow the evidence.

I’m eventually going to lose the battle I’m having with myself.

What started as an occasional urge or thought has now become a powerful mental refrain that’s getting harder and harder to fight.

I’d rather be dead than lead this camp on its twisted mission. And dead or alive, I’m beaten. Whitman and Lochlan will have won. That’s the hardest pill to swallow—knowing I’ll never get to make them answer to my blade for what they’ve done.

The buckets arrive and I untie them from the rope Pax used to lower them. Then I tie on the two buckets I already had, one of which is empty and one which is a third full of pee.

It’s a really ungraceful situation, trying to pee in a bucket when you’re in a muddy hole and it’s dark. I can smell myself, and I’d give just about anything for a toothbrush and some toothpaste.

“You hanging in there?” Pax asks.

Like I have a choice. I could be breaking down mentally and he’d walk away and go about his day. Seeing who Pax really is when I need his help makes me loathe whatever power is making me want to screw him in every possible position.

“Doing fantastic,” I deadpan, looking up at him. “Some guys opened the cover and pissed all over me last night; that was fun.”

He shakes his head. “That shouldn’t happen. I’ll look into it.”

“It’s been three days. I need to get out of here if I’m going to have a chance in the circle. Can’t you please let me out of here?”

I despise this woman who’s begging a man for help.

It’s against everything I am. But this place is a different kind of hell, and I’d say anything to get out.

I’m losing myself, and the process may be over by the time I’m allowed to climb up the ladder.

I don’t want my final days of my mind still being partly mine to be spent in a dank, dark prison.

If it comes to ending my life to avoid becoming a robot soldier breeder, I want to let nature do it.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it down here.

I’ll eat some poisonous berries and curl up beneath a tree or free-fall from a tall cliff and let my last sensation be the wind caressing my face as I plunge to a quick end.

“I can’t.” Pax’s grimace is apologetic.

I scream inside, wanting to tell him he’s an impotent little bitch who isn’t a co-commander at all. He’s under Virginia’s thumb. She makes the decisions and somehow makes him feel like he has power when he actually has none.

Silent tears slide down my cheeks. I sit down and pull my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on my knees and wrapping my arms around my legs.

Where was I? I was classifying the rose, and I stopped on...family. I scoff inwardly, longing for even ten seconds with my own family. Just to look at them one more time. To draw strength from my dad’s hand on my shoulder or my mom’s contagious laugh.

It’s just me, though. I’m alone. The hole darkens as Pax flips the door closed, confirming my solitude with a light thud.

So, roses. Family: rosaceae. Genus: Rosa. Species: various.

A few hours later, I can feel my racing pulse in my temples as I listen to the commotion above me. People started yelling about five minutes ago, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

The voices are frenzied, sounding rushed. If there’s another hurricane coming and they leave me down here, I won’t survive. Even with the extra endurance this fucked-up island gives me, I won’t be able to tread water for days.

I don’t want to drown. My instincts are screaming at me to claw my way out of this hole. If the walls were dirt, I’d already have dug enough footholds to get out. The smooth metal walls taunt me, reminding me I can’t outthink monsters who imprison people for questioning them.

“The boat’s coming!”

My spine straightens as I make out a woman’s words. She has to mean a fresh batch of prisoners for Rising Tide and the Dust Walkers to fight over.

Panic claws its way up my throat. If Pax dies on the beach, I’m dead, too. I’ll die of thirst, which is a horrible way to go.

I force myself to breathe deeply, quelling the terror that’s threatening to take hold of me. Throwing up, which I’m close to doing, would dehydrate me at a time I can’t afford to be depleted.

Do something, Briar. Don’t just sit here. Do something.

“Let me out!” I yell, standing up. “I can help you!”

This might be my only chance to get out of here before Marcelle calls me into the circle. I cup my hands around my mouth to amplify my voice.

“I can fight! Let me out, and I’ll fight with you!”

I listen for the span of a few frenzied heartbeats. Nothing. The voices have gone quiet.

Putting my palms on the metal lining my prison, I groan. I want to pound my fists against the wall and rage, but my dad’s training won’t allow me to. A hand injury will only make things worse.

“You cocksucking, piece-of-shit island! Just give me a fucking chance!”

A crack of light enters the hole. I tilt my chin up and the brightness grows. The man standing there looking down at me isn’t Pax this time.

It’s Olin. My jaw drops, tears springing to my eyes.

Then he walks away.

“No! No, please! Come back!” I cry out in frustration. “Help me, Olin! Please!”

Something appears at the top of the hole, but it’s not Olin. I squint, dropping to my knees when I realize what it is.

The ladder. He’s lowering the ladder into the hole for me. I want to sob with gratitude, but there’s no time for that. He must be using the opportunity of everyone leaving camp for the boat to free me.

I spring back up and reach toward the ladder, relief flooding my entire body when I wrap my hands around the sides of it to guide it to the ground.

It’s barely secured in the mud when I scramble onto it, the mud on my boots making my foot slip on the second rung. I force myself to slow down, keeping both hands and both feet on the unsteady ladder.

When I reach the top and feel the ground beneath my feet, Olin is smiling at me, the chaos of his coarse, bright-red hair a beautiful sight. I can tell from the flare of his eyes that I look and smell like a neglected farm animal, but I don’t care. I throw my arms around him in a hug.

“I owe you my life, Olin.” It’s hard to get the words past the lump of emotion in my throat. “Thank you just isn’t enough.”

He pulls back, his brown eyes brimming with seriousness when I meet them. Bending, he picks up a reed-woven bag from the ground and passes it to me. Then he reaches into his pocket and passes me something that looks like a folded-up leaf.

When I unfold it, I see that he’s used something to scratch words onto the leaf’s surface.

RUN FAR. HIDE. THEY WILL COME FOR YOU.

I flick my gaze up to him. “You mean Virginia and Pax?”

He nods and rushes to get the ladder from the hole and hang it back up on the building wall. As soon as it’s secure, he closes the cover to my underground cell.

Then he returns and picks up the last things on the ground, two spears. He passes me one and keeps one for himself, pointing at the jungle as he backs away.

He wants me to go.

“You’re going to the beach? To fight for the people on the boat?”

He nods, his lips set in a solemn line. When he points to the jungle again, it’s more emphatic, his brows lowered.

“Come with me. If they catch you, you’ll be in huge trouble.”

He shakes his head, points at the jungle again, spins away and breaks into a run. I only watch him for a second before I shoulder the pack and turn in the opposite direction, heading straight into the jungle.