Page 20 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Training during this course will progress from static drills to dynamic scenario work. Safety protocols will be strictly enforced throughout all practice sessions.

- Excerpt from a police training manual written by Ben Hollis

Lochlan is climbing over me. He reeks of sweat and alcohol and his large belly crushes the air from my lungs. I turn my head to the side, steeling myself to endure what’s about to happen.

I gasp in a breath as I wake up, startled. The knife in my hand is poised to strike, and it takes me a second to remember where I am.

The cave. I must have fallen asleep. Since it’s always dark in here, I can’t get a sense of how long I slept. I’m groggy and thirsty, my throat uncomfortably dry.

For the first time since getting to the island, I didn’t wake up drenched in sweat. This cave is going to make a nice shelter for me as I heal and figure out my next move.

I’ll have to venture out to find food, but I’m hoping to get my water from in here. I ease my feet back into my socks and shoes, the pain not better or worse, and stand up.

I’m lightheaded, probably from lack of food. I’ll eat a papaya after I get some water.

Keeping the knife in my right hand, I tiptoe deeper into the cave, toward the murmur of water.

I don’t have to go far. In the darkness, I can clearly hear the trickle, but can’t see it. I use my hands to search, my palm landing on a smooth rock wall with water gently flowing down. I bend to inspect the ground with my fingers, hoping to find a pool of cool water.

Instead, it’s rolling along the edge of the cave floor. I follow the path for about fifty feet, where the water seems to seep into another wall.

Damn. No drinkable water source in here. That means I have to go out. I’ve got enough problems with my feet; I can’t let myself get dehydrated, too.

I leave everything but the knife, spear and canteen in the cave. As the path takes me upward, pinpricks of light filter into the cave through tiny holes in the curtain of vines. I can smell the sweet, heavy scent of the tropical flowers even from twenty feet away.

Careful to ease out at the same end I entered through and not disturb the cave’s covering, I blink against bright light when I emerge. The tree cover above is too thick for me to tell what time of day it is.

I consider waiting for the cover of night, but I’m just too thirsty. The small waterfall I bathed in yesterday isn’t too far, and I know exactly how to get back there.

A snake as thick as my forearm slithers across the ground in front of me as I walk, unconcerned with my presence. It’s black and red with an arrow-shaped head—probably venomous. I’m not tangling with venomous snakes, even though my mouth waters at the thought of grilled meat.

I’ll have other chances at small game. I say another silent thank you to the universe for sending me this knife. In the light, I can see that it’s very well made and sharp.

This weapon will give me a chance against anything I encounter. I can’t help wondering who left it in the cave, and when.

It’s mine now. I can live without everything I left in the cave if I have to, but the knife, spear and canteen will come with me everywhere.

When I exit the jungle, the sun’s position tells me it’s around late morning. I must’ve slept through the night.

Sweat is already running down my spine and gathering under my arms. I’d love to take my clothes off and sit in the cool water for a while, but I can’t.

Kneeling beside the pool of crystal clear water, I bend and splash my face. It’s a mess of scrapes, but none of them seem very deep.

Then I fill my canteen, drink it all, and fill it again. This time, I drink half of it and then dunk it below the water’s surface to get it full.

After screwing on the cap, I put the strap over my head so the canteen rests on my hip, pick up my knife and spear, and start back toward the cave.

I feel better. The rest helped. My head is clear enough now that I can think through my options and decide what to do after I let my feet heal.

“Any last words, Briar?”

My feet freeze, the voice setting off alarm bells in my head.

It’s too late for that, though. When I turn around, Virginia is standing around ten feet away, her expression a cross between furious and smug. She’s gripping a long metal spear, the corded muscles on her lean arms glistening with sweat.

“Just leave me alone.” It’s an effort to keep my voice level, a knot of panic tightening in my stomach. “You said I know too much, but there’s no one to tell. I just want to be alone.”

“I can’t allow that.”

She takes a step forward and I match it with a step back. The corners of her lips turn up slightly like she’s enjoying my fear.

This bitch. She’s got a major God complex, not unlike Soren Whitman.

“How do you live with yourself?” My voice drips with the contempt I feel for her. “You’re a woman making other women into breeding machines for Whitman.”

She scoffs. “And who are you? Just an arrogant loner no one will miss when I leave your body for the animals to tear apart.”

I’m my father’s daughter. He was a smart, measured man, but he was also a proud one. And he taught me to never let an opponent see my fear.

Master it , he’d say. Swallow your fear whole and use it.

I walk closer to Virginia, my fingers aching from my tight grip on the knife. “You’re nothing but a bully. And I’ve never been afraid of bullies.”

That hits. A shadow crosses her face and she storms toward me, snarling.

I track her movements, evading her spear as she tries to put it in my stomach, and then my chest.

Instinct makes me toss my own spear aside. The knife is a better weapon for me, and I can use it with either hand if needed.

“You’re not special.” Virginia tries to circle me and I back away, crouching. “I’ve seen a thousand women like you, and I’ll see a thousand more after you.”

Kill her. Do it now. Strike her down.

I ignore the unbidden urges, remembering my training. Dad would tell me to play on her emotions. Make her sloppy.

“Will Pax want all thousand of them instead of you, too?”

A dark cloud of rage passes over her face. She reaches for my shirt with her free hand and I move back.

“Where the hell did you get that knife?”

I smile. “Prefer your opponents weak and unarmed, Virginia?”

She lunges at me and I evade, but she turns at the last second and changes course, sinking the tip of her spear into my thigh.

Pain blossoms in my left leg as I bring my right foot up, landing a hard kick to her chest to get her away from me.

She flies back ten feet and lands on her back. I shouldn’t have been able to kick her that hard. Whatever is making the Tiders so strong and fast, it’s in me, too. And right now, I need it.

Blood rolls down my thigh, Virginia’s spear still in her hand. It hurts like hell, but I have to channel all my concentration on this fight. I can’t outrun her. And even if I manage to escape somehow, she’ll come after me again.

She’s on her feet again, coming at me. “Maybe I’ll just keep poking holes in you until you bleed out. I’ve got all day.”

“I bet you do. You don’t care that your people are starving. I’ve heard you make sure you get enough food, so fuck them, right?”

“Who said that?” Rage pours off her.

I use the lapse in her focus, racing at her and making it look like I’m going to try to stab my knife into her stomach. At the last possible second, I lower myself to the ground and swipe my blade over the side of one of her calves. Her spear makes a whooshing sound as it barely misses my head.

Leaping back to my feet in an instant, I can feel my strength surging. I’m not just stronger, though. Every reflex is sharper. My mind has tunneled down to a singular focus: killing Virginia.

Destroy her. Make her pay. She deserves to die painfully.

I stay in a crouching position, anticipating her next move. She rushes at me as fast and hard as she can, which I didn’t see coming.

Shit. We’re both on the ground, and she knocked my knife from my hand. I start to scramble up, but she shoves me back down and climbs on top of me, punching me in the face.

She hits me again, and again, and again. Terror and pain race through every nerve ending.

All she has to do is grab my knife and I’m dead. I raise a forearm to block her next punch, planting my feet in the ground.

She’s strong, but wiry. I’m able to drive my hips up and force her off me.

I can’t see. One eye is swollen almost shut and the other one has blood in it.

Run.

That knife is the difference between life and death for me. I can’t run.

Furiously, I swipe my fingers over the eye with blood in it, trying to clear it. Virginia could be standing over me right now, knife poised to plunge into my back.

I’m not ready. I want to keep fighting. A cry of anguish rips from my throat as I crawl, my hands scrabbling for my weapon.

Please, please, please. Not here. Not like this. Not all alone. Not her.

I silently beg my family for help. I don’t want to go out like this, and if I could just have a shred of my mom’s clever problem-solving, my father’s steel will, or my sister’s fierce bravery, maybe it would be enough.

Help me. I need you.

The ground trembles beneath me. Vibrations shudder into my body, the rumble growing quickly.

Is it an earthquake? I grab the bottom of my shirt and frantically wipe my eye with it, blinking hard and begging the universe to let me see.

When I look up, I have partial vision back. There’s a crack of sight through my swollen eye and everything is a little blurry through the other one.

There’s movement off to the side, the ground still thundering beneath me.

It’s Virginia. She’s coming at me with the knife, a murderous gleam of victory shining in her eyes.

I scramble backward, my feet and hands unable to match the pace of her lunge. Instinct makes me curl into a ball so I can take the blow in my back.

Wind whooshes over me, every second feeling like a minute as I wait for the burn of the blow that will be fatal no matter where it lands.

But it doesn’t come. I look up, breath trapped in my throat, and my jaw hits the ground.

Thick green vines are winding themselves around Virginia’s body, the coils tight, perfect circles. They’re at her chest, and she’s scowling as she hacks away at them with the knife.

What the hell is happening?

Run.

The same unwelcome intruder in my consciousness that tells me I want to fuck Pax and murder Virginia is now trying to save me. I’d love to run, but I have to get that knife.

I get to my feet and stagger toward her, my pants soaked with blood from my leg wound.

This is madness. I’m too weak to use the knife on her now, but I have to get it . I need it and I also need her not to have it.

I can see well enough. I can do this.

When I get close, Virginia scowls and swings the knife at me. The vines are still twining around her, new ones taking over when she cuts one down. They’re trailing out of the jungle, more slithering out like snakes.

It’s not possible. They can’t grow that quickly. They can’t attack people. But I’m seeing it with my own eyes. Those vines saved my life.

She slices through another one, one arm raised in the air with the knife and the other one swallowed up by a coiling shoot.

I drop to one knee. I’m about to lose consciousness. I’ve lost too much blood. But I have to make sure Virginia dies, too.

For Olin. For the soldier kids who deserved so much better.

There’s a hum as something slices through the air. As my hands drop to the ground, Virginia’s scream pierces the air.

I glance up. The knife is gone. Her palm is gushing blood, an arrow lodged in it.

Someone’s running, their footsteps sounding behind me. I want to be strong enough to see who it is, but I can hardly stay awake.

I fought hard. I tried.

“Briar, get up.” The voice is clipped, worried. “We have to go now . You have to help me.”

“The...knife.”

“I got it.” She yells the next part. “Get up! We have to go or we’re both dead!”

An arm wraps around my waist, the woman groaning as she strains to get me upright.

Both of us. Dead. I don’t want to be responsible for killing someone else. I put one foot in front of the other.

“Arm around my neck,” she snaps. “Right now.”

I do it, leaning against her. A curtain of smooth black hair fills the crack of vision I have left.

She picks up her pace and I do my best to match her steps, my feet dragging.

“Come on. You can do this, Briar.”

I turn my face, catching part of her profile. “Amira?”

“Yeah. I’ve got you. Just move your feet for me, okay? You have to move your feet.”

She’s alive. How? I want to ask her, but it’s all I can do to breathe and keep from passing out.

“I’m dying,” I mumble. “Leave...me.”

“No. Just move your feet. That’s all I need you to do. We don’t have that far to go.”

I want to tell her the Tiders will find us. And then they’ll kill her, too.

I breathe deeply, my feet aching but landing solidly on the ground now. Everything hurts, but I’m alive. I was so sure I was about to die—surer than I’ve ever been—and somehow, I’m still breathing.

A wave of nausea hits. I swallow it, forcing myself to keep moving.

We exit the jungle and Amira stops next to a cluster of overgrown bushes. She eases me into a sitting position on the ground, then bends so we’re at eye level.

“Listen to me, Briar. This is really important. I’m going to get help, but you can’t come any farther with me now.”

I groan in a weak protest.

“If you follow me, you’ll get sick. Remember how we were unconscious on the boat when they brought us here?

They implanted something in us. It makes you faster and stronger.

My camp has a device that makes anyone with that implant in them sicker and sicker as they get closer, and if they keep coming, they’ll die.

I need you to hide in these bushes and be quiet until I get back. ”

I just look at her, too stunned to even nod. There’s something implanted in me?

She pulls a stainless water bottle from a pack on her back and pushes it into my hands.

“Get in there and drink water and stay awake .” She looks at the pool of blood on the ground beneath my leg. “Fuck. Get in there now and I’ll cover this up. Stay awake, Briar, do you hear me? Do not go to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I crawl into the bushes, prickly branches scraping my already raw cheeks and arms. When I curl up, there’s something hard poking into my back.

I don’t care, though. This is as good a place to die as any. At least Virginia won’t have the satisfaction of seeing the last of my life drain out of me.