Page 35 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Human test subject males showed increased aggression and emotional volatility. Increasing procreation urges is proving difficult. For our next round of test subjects, we will increase the compound’s testosterone.

- Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain

“Would you rather have no front teeth or a butthole that never stops itching?”

Marcus shakes his head, lips quirking as he rubs his jaw. “Really?”

I roll my shoulders, tired of sitting at the table in the front room of his quarters. “Just answer.”

He exhales heavily. “I guess the itchy butthole.”

“But not just a little itch, like a hardcore, driving you so mad you have to scratch it all the time kind.”

We’ve been sheltering for a couple hours, the reports Marcus has gotten over his radio about the storm going from bad to worse.

Apparently, high winds and small chunks of ice have made visibility near impossible.

But everyone in the camp is accounted for, so all we can do now is wait it out.

I’ve convinced him the time will seem to pass faster if we play Would You Rather.

“Which one would you pick?” he asks.

I smile. “I see what you did there. Like picking your butt because your butthole itches.”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t make that connection.”

“I’d choose no front teeth. But I’m not vain.”

He barks out a laugh. “I see. And I am?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Are you?”

His amused expression slides away. “I used to be, but not so much anymore. The only time I look in the mirror is to make sure I don’t cut myself while I’m shaving.”

“Bigger things to worry about?”

He nods, then says, “I thought of one. Would you rather have a beard you can never shave or be bald and you can never grow your hair back?”

“Hmm. I think I have to go with baldness.”

He flicks his gaze to mine. “You have nice hair, but you could pull off bald. I’d probably take the beard.”

I’m so used to scowling, order-giving Marcus that it’s a strange feeling to just be hanging out with him. I figured he’d be going stir crazy, not smiling and giving me compliments.

“Do you guys have a massive stockpile of food and toiletries? Like enough to last you years?”

His expression closes off, and I realize how much that sounded like I’m prodding for the information a spy sent by Virginia would want.

“You don’t have to answer.”

“We do have a lot stockpiled, and we get deliveries. You may have already figured out the supplies are supposed to be for both camps, but I stopped sharing with them a long time ago.”

I stand up and walk around, needing to stretch my legs. “And you’re hoping she’ll eventually trade people whose aromium you can deactivate for supplies?”

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I’d be open to that. I don’t think she would, though.”

“Why not?”

He leans his elbows on the table, a crease forming between his brows. “The last thing I want is to make you sympathetic toward Virginia, but she’s in a bad situation.”

I narrow my eyes, skeptical. “She has options. She could at least negotiate for food.”

“The reason she fights so hard for people on the beach when the boat comes is because she has to make this program succeed. There’ll be a day when Whitman comes to get the kids, and he’s going to expect a lot of them.”

I nod, knowing how ruthless he is. Maybe she’s just as much a prisoner here as the rest of us are.

“Virginia can’t have children.” Marcus holds my gaze across the table. “She’s known that since before the virus. The only family she has left in the world is one niece, and Whitman’s got her.”

My chin drops with surprise. “You mean like as a hostage?”

He nods, his expression grim. “She’s in his custody, that’s all Virginia knows. And the results of the aromium program will determine what happens to her.”

I put my hands on the back of the chair I was sitting in, seeing Virginia in a new light.

What if Whitman had one of my family members? I’d do whatever it took to get them back.

“Would you rather be responsible for the deaths of a lot of people you don’t know, or the one family member you have left?” Marcus asks, our light game suddenly becoming all too real.

I look down at the table’s surface, considering. “I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

My pulse races as I raise my head to look at him. “Were you and Virginia...close?”

He knows a lot about her. Things most people at Rising Tide have no idea about. It’s clear they were close, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“I knew her better than most. But we weren’t romantically involved, if that’s what you mean.”

Warmth creeps up my neck, reaching my cheeks. “I heard she has a thing for Pax.”

He grunts, looking disgusted. “Can’t imagine why.”

Static sounds over the radio. “Atlas to Command One. We just heard a loud crashing sound outside the Sub. Want me to investigate?”

Marcus picks his radio up from the table, pushing a button on the side and talking into it. “Copy that, Atlas. This is Ares. Stay where you are. I’ve got it.”

“Copy, Ares.”

He stands, picking up his radio.

“If you’re going out, I’m coming with you,” I say.

He furrows his brow as he walks into the bedroom, where he stores his weapons. “I’ve only got storm gear for one.”

“I don’t need special gear.”

He stops zipping the heavy raincoat he’s putting on, giving me a look. “I’ll just be getting soaked while I try to figure out what made the crashing sound.”

“Better two sets of eyes than one.”

His eyes stay locked on mine as he pushes the button on the radio. “Ares to Athena. What wind speeds do we have out there?”

An invisible thread tugs on me, beckoning me to move nearer to him. I keep my feet rooted in place, but all I want is to be closer to him. Close enough to see the flecks of brown and gold in his mossy eyes and smell the leather-and-saltwater scent that’s so unmistakably him.

Nova responds a few seconds later. “Athena to Ares, fifty-three miles per hour.”

“Copy, Athena. Thanks.”

He shoves the radio in his pants pocket and gives me a pointed look. “There’s got to be debris flying all over the place out there. Just stay dry in here and I’ll be back soon.”

“It’s not safe to be out there alone.”

He shrugs. “It’s not safe to be out there at all. But I have to make sure our walls are still standing.”

“I can help. You can either let me come, or I’ll follow you.”

He narrows his eyes, aggravated. “Are you ever going to listen to me? Just once?”

“I do listen to you ...” I look away. “Sometimes.”

He huffs out a single-note laugh and I hear him unzipping the jacket. “Put this on.”

“No, I’m not?—”

“Yeah, you are. If you’re coming, you’re wearing the gear.” He slides out of the jacket.

“I’ve been wet before,” I argue.

His brows jump to his hairline and his eyes lock onto mine as he smirks. “I’d love to hear more about that later.”

I bury my face in my hands, mortified. “You know what I meant.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about the effect I have on you.”

I shake my head. “I should just let you get swept away. You deserve it.”

“I’m twice your size. If anyone’s going to get swept away, it’s you.”

I take the jacket from him and put it on, the sleeves hanging past my fingers and the jacket’s waist hitting me mid-thigh. When he tries to pass me his rain boots, I shake my head.

“My feet will fall out of those, Sasquatch.”

He unlaces his regular boots and puts on the knee-high rain ones. When he walks over to his weapon wall, a realization hits me.

“If you’re still getting deliveries of supplies from Whitman, he doesn’t know what’s going on here. He thinks you’re still supplying both camps.”

He’s quiet as he secures the belt of his holster around his waist, then glances at me. “Yep.”

Excitement swirls in my stomach. Marcus has shifted the power dynamic, and I’m giddy over the prospect of being even a small part of that.

“Okay, this is ... I was in before, but now I’m a hundred and ten percent in. Making a fool of Whitman and blowing up his plans for robot soldiers? Let’s fucking go.”

His eyes land on my tattoos, his hands working on securing his shoulder holster. “You said when we questioned you that you’re here because he did that to you.”

He’s asking me— without actually asking—to elaborate on the minimal explanation I gave for the ink when he and Nova were low-key interrogating me. But I don’t even want to think about what Lochlan did to me, let alone recount it.

“He deserves to pay for a hundred reasons, and that’s one of them. He’s a festering sore on the asshole of humanity. He’s ruined countless families and lives. And he bought all that control. He’d be nothing without his money.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

I look at the black X marks on my hands. “I took birth control so a man I was forced to marry couldn’t get me pregnant. In what fucked-up hellscape is that a crime?”

His expression softens as he passes me a handgun. “Keep that dry if you can.”

“How are you doing it? Does he still think there’s research going on here?”

He nods. “Yeah. But I can’t keep the charade up forever. It could all blow up at any moment. That’s why I need to find McClain. He’s the key.”

It’s the first time he’s told me the name of the man who owned the knife before I found it.

“But what if he’s dead?”

He drops his brows, looking grim. “Then I’ll move on to Plan B , which is ... messier.”

My heart pounds as I follow him out the door of his quarters, which he locks behind us. We’re both silent as we descend the ladder, the roar of the wind and steady pounding of ice on the roof reminding me what we’re about to walk out into.

Marcus stops in front of the exit door, giving me a serious look. “You have to listen to me out there, Briar.”

“I will.”

He arches a brow, skeptical.

“I will.” There’s a note of annoyance in my tone. “Let’s go.”