Page 31 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Test subject horses showed dramatic increase in aggression and agitation. We are moving too quickly on trials, but Mr. Whitman is insistent that we have a usable compound within the next sixty days. The team is operating on very little sleep.

– Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain

Lazy swirls of drifting snowflakes float on a light breeze as I wait outside the tunnel for Ellison several hours later. On this steamy day, the flakes fizzle and disappear as soon as they hit the ground.

It’s bright and sunny, the snow falling from a massive dark cloud that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the clear, blue sky. I’ve added artificial microclimates to the growing list of things on this bizarre island I wish I could talk to my mom about.

“Briar.” Ellison greets me with a bright smile. “It’s good to see you. Let’s go to my office.”

She leads me down into the tunnel, keying in a code to open the door. I can’t help thinking about the last time I took this path, with Vance beside me.

Ellison nods to two men who are walking in the opposite direction, waiting until they’re out of earshot to say, “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine. I got a few good hours of sleep.”

“Good.”

It took me no time at all to fall asleep in Marcus’s bed, and I didn’t hate waking up surrounded by the scents of saltwater, leather, and soap on his bedsheets. He was already gone when I unlocked the door and left in search of a bathroom.

On the table, he left me a fresh bar of soap, a towel, toothpaste and a toothbrush, a piece of paper on top of the pile bearing a handwritten note.

Briar,

You’re off work duty in the garden until further notice. Take the time you need. Find me if you need anything.

Marcus

Reading my name in his handwriting gave me butterflies. Ridiculous. I feel like a teenager with a crush, only I’m a grown-ass twenty-four-year-old woman who knows better.

Acting on feelings is a death sentence in the new world order. Even though I rely on logic, intuition, and experience, I’ve had several near misses with an eternal nap. I have to stay sharp, which means no more closing my eyes and breathing in the smell of Marcus’s pillow like a lunatic.

Ellison leads me down a hallway and through another secured door that requires a code for entry, and then into a room that takes me aback.

Shelves on the walls are lined with plants, artificial lights above casting them in wide arcs of brightness. Other shelves hold glass jars of medical supplies like gauze, pills, and dried, crushed plants.

There’s a loveseat with a blanket folded neatly over one side, and colorful paintings crowd the walls.

It’s maximalist, with no rhyme or reason.

An oil painting of a Black woman carrying a basket on her head hangs next to a watercolor of a portly pink pig with aviator goggles flying through the sky, his wings minuscule.

Tears prick my eyes and I clear my throat.

This is the warmest, coziest room I’ve been in since before the virus.

The last time I was in a place that gave me this feeling, it was my mom’s office.

She had a freestanding office behind our home with a big greenhouse attached to it.

The vibe was plants, comfy furniture and bright colors, and I loved it.

“Please sit.” Ellison gestures at the loveseat, sitting down in a wooden rocking chair.

I sit on the loveseat, breathing in the scent of eucalyptus. It’s one of my favorite smells.

“This place is beautiful,” I say.

“Thank you. Nova calls it my den of organized chaos.”

I smile. “My mom had one of those, too.”

“You said she was a scientist, right?”

“Yes. She was a professor at the University of Washington.”

“You miss her.” It’s a statement, not a question.

I nod. “Especially since I got here. My mom would be blown away by”—I gesture around—“all of this. Aromium, genetically engineered crops that defy anything science has been able to do yet, controlled microclimates...all of it.”

“How are you feeling today?” A crease appears between her brows.

“Right. You’re wondering why I’m here.” I smile sheepishly.

“Not at all. I hope you know you can drop in to see me anytime, even if it’s just to talk. I’ve just been thinking of you and wanted to ask.”

Today her brown hair is in a loose braid, a few strands loose around her face. She’s wearing a lightweight, flowy blue dress and looks like she could be on a tropical vacation.

“I’m okay.” I meet her warm gaze. “Vance didn’t get very far with trying to assault me.”

“I’m proud of the way you fought him. Not that I judge women who don’t fight.” She sighs softly. “I did a rotation in the emergency department when I was in school and domestic abuse was one of the hardest things I saw. Abuse is far more nuanced than many people realize. It’s not just physical.”

“What did you do before the virus?”

“I was an oncology nurse practitioner.”

“That seems like a tough job. Was it rewarding?”

The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Oftentimes. Also heartbreaking. Stressful. It helped that I’m an incurable optimist.”

I glance at a painting of a vase of flowers on her wall, taking a reassuring breath before looking back at her. “I need to ask you about aromium. How long will it take for it to be completely out of my system?”

Her brows drop down a notch. “What are you feeling that makes you think it’s still affecting you?”

My cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Just...I don’t know.”

She sits back in her chair, hands folded in her lap.

“Aromium has two different components. There’s the physical side, which, as far as I’ve seen, affects every person the same way.

You get stronger, faster, and need less sleep and food.

These effects strengthen over time. Once the aromium is fully bound to your DNA, you hardly need any sleep or food at all.

Just water. And I’m sure you saw how strong and fast the fours were. ”

I nod, remembering the pregnant women who ran mile after mile in the hundred-degree heat, sprinting it all.

“Then there’s the other part of aromium, which was designed to amplify certain urges and emotions. That component proved...difficult.” She presses her lips into a thin line.

“What urges and emotions?”

“Well, we didn’t know which ones we’d get when we injected our first test group, but?—”

My chin drops and my heart speeds up. “Wait. You were part of that?”

There’s a pause before she responds. “Regretfully, I was.”

“Is this Whitman’s project to make super soldiers?”

Her smile is tinged with sadness. “Nearly everyone who was working on it didn’t know that was the purpose, but yes.”

“So you got out when you realized?”

She nods. “As soon as I could.” She leans forward. “Anyway, the aromium amplifies the desires to protect and procreate at any cost. So anger, jealousy, attraction, spite—those are all heightened. Knowing that, how are you feeling differently than you did before aromium?”

I don’t want to lie and say it’s anger. She might think I’m a danger to others. I swallow my embarrassment and tell her the truth.

“It’s, um...attraction.”

Her smile is half-amused, half-sympathetic. “And that’s the only thing?”

With a cringe, I nod.

“Well, I don’t know if this will be good news or bad news, but aromium’s effects end immediately upon deactivation.

If you’re feeling an attraction to someone, I think it’s because you’re genuinely attracted to them.

” A laugh bubbles out of her. “Oh, honey. Your expression. I promise it will all be okay. I went through the same thing when I fell for an annoyingly quiet introvert who cracks her knuckles individually every night in bed.”

My lips quirk up. “Nova.”

“She’s grumpy, I’m sunshine. She looks before she leaps, and I guess that’s probably good for me. Not to mention that I can’t not smile when we’re together. I’ve tried. Can’t do it.”

“I love that,” I murmur.

“This place is hard. Having someone special really helps. Whether it’s romantic or just a great friend.”

This is definitely not good news for me. I was convinced I’m too rational to get butterflies when Marcus is close, and to fantasize about him on top of me, scowl and all.

“And you’re positive?” I ask. “Because this person I’m...you know, feeling this way for, he’s not my type.”

“Could it be situational?”

I frown. “You mean like I’m only attracted to him because we’re on this island?”

“ Or ,” she says gently, “because he was swift and certain with justice to someone who wronged you?”

I laugh and bury my head in my hands. Awesome. Now she knows it’s Marcus. I must be completely transparent.

“That’s definitely not it. I’m actually pretty angry at him for treating me like a criminal and making me stay locked up with Vance every night. And I’m not celebrating what happened to Vance.”

A few seconds of silence pass before she speaks again. “One reason I think Marcus is an effective leader here is that he doesn’t celebrate it, either. I was opposed to his black-and-white approach to punishment here, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?”

She sighs softly, her expression troubled.

“We tried confinement. Most of the time, people were bitter about it and that led to even worse offenses. It’s easy to forget that many of the people sent here really are violent criminals.

Some are good people who only stole to feed their dying families or used birth control.

But some...some people here are predators and murderers.

Marcus’s system is the best way to keep the good people safe and deter the others. ”

A soft knock sounds on her office door. She gets up to answer it.

“Henry’s waiting to have his stitches removed,” a male voice says.

She nods. “I’ll be right in.”

I stand up from my seat, taking one more look around her office. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

She walks me back the way we came, her voice low so the people passing can’t hear her.