Page 41 of Blue Arrow Island (Blue Arrow Island #1)

Five Days Later

I’ve received a report of a new practice at the Rising Tide camp called “The Circle”, in which any camp member can challenge another to a one-on-one fight to the death. It’s a primal, but effective means of incentivizing hard work and cohesion.

- Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Randall McClain

It’s been raining for hours. We got caught out in it while searching on the beach, so we were soaking wet by the time we found shelter beneath the overhang of a rock formation.

It’s not a perfect setup; the wind is blasting sheets of wind at us. But I’m too cold to look for someplace better. I’m huddled against Marcus’s side, his arm around me.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

It’s been a fairly miserable five days of nearly nonstop searching.

Two days ago, Marcus found a button on the ground, so we’ve been combing the radius around where he found it as methodically as we can.

We haven’t seen any sign of Rising Tide, and there’s been minimal radio traffic from the other teams.

“That photo on the dresser in your room ... is that your mom?”

A few seconds pass and I’m not sure he’s going to respond. “Yeah. Her name was Natalie. She was an emergency department nurse.”

“Is that why you wanted to study medicine?”

“She was definitely an influence. She was a single mom from the time I was five, and there were times I had to hang out in the staff lounge for a few hours because she couldn’t get a sitter.”

It’s hard for me to imagine Marcus as a little boy. He doesn’t seem like he was ever silly or carefree.

“Can I ask what happened to your dad?”

I feel his scoff beneath my cheek. “He was a deadbeat who did us both a favor when he took off permanently.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My mom taught me everything I needed to know about being a man. She worked sixty hours a week and never missed one of my football games.”

I sit up straight so I can see his face. “Sounds like she was a great mom.”

A hint of a smile quirks at the corners of his lips.

“The best. She made me volunteer a few hours a week in the hospital day care from the time I was ten. I changed diapers, helped kids learn to read, and rocked sick kids to sleep. And as soon as I hit high school, every time I left to do something with friends, she’d ask me if I was ready to be a father.

Of course I said no. Then she’d give me this look and tell me to remember that when I thought about having sex. ”

I can’t help laughing.

His smile grows and he shakes his head. “I was a virgin until I was nineteen, thanks to Nat Wells.”

“Wells? That’s your last name?”

“Yeah.”

“So who was the lucky woman when you were nineteen?”

“Her name was Nicki. We met in a freshman history class.”

Jealousy toward someone I don’t even know burns hot in my chest. I change the subject before he tells me anything more about it.

“Have you seen Flavius today?”

“Nope. But I don’t think he’s far.”

The rain gets lighter and I stand up. “We might as well get back at it.”

“Yeah.” He’s too tall to stand up fully beneath the rock overhang, so he steps outside of it.

I can’t sleep more than a couple of hours a day. Somehow, my body knows we’re exposed and it won’t fall into a deep sleep. As long as I get enough water and some food every day, I feel okay.

Marcus has adjusted to his aromium. He has an erection most of the time and he still looks at me like he’s starving and I’m dinner, but he seems to be able to focus on the search, too.

It’s late afternoon, the heat at its peak for the day. My feet are sore from constant wetness and walking, but all I can do is let them air out once a day and try to dry my socks and shoes.

“I have to use the facilities,” I say, walking toward a grouping of trees nearby.

He busies himself checking supplies, staying in earshot but not watching. I’m crouching behind a massive tree when I see movement in the corner of my eye.

My heart drops to my stomach. It’s a jaguar, slowly stalking in my direction. My mind freezes; I can’t remember what to do when a jaguar is near. Should I run? Play dead?

It takes another step, dropping its head slightly. I stand and pull my pants back up, calling Marcus’s name without screaming it as I zip and button my pants.

A jaguar mauled that Rising Tide guy to death, and he was surrounded by people with aromium. I apologize to the universe for my thoughts about our search conditions being tough.

My sore feet and sunburned scalp don’t compare to getting my throat ripped out by a jaguar.

“Marcus,” I say, a little louder this time.

Help me.

Something thick and coiled drops down from a tree branch above me. I jolt, thinking it’s a snake, but it slithers through the air, not hitting the ground.

It’s a vine, and it’s not the only one. Vibrant green vines in a variety of thicknesses are all moving swiftly toward the jaguar. The one from the tree reaches the cat and crawls onto its back.

The animal turns and retreats, racing toward the jungle. As soon as it’s gone, I breathe again and the vines slither back the way they came, gone as quickly as they arrived. The one from the tree lightly brushes my upper arm as it goes, the touch almost ... affectionate.

“Briar, you okay?” Marcus calls.

I jog back to him, his eyes widening when he sees my face. His hand goes to the gun on his hip.

“What happened?”

“Vines.” I swallow hard, still not believing what just happened. “There was a jaguar, and I was afraid it was going to kill me.”

His eyes bulge, his gaze darting behind me. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you yell for me?”

I lower my brows. “I kind of did, but forget that. Vines came out from all over and they were going for the jaguar. They scared it off.”

He runs a hand through his hair, scanning our surroundings. “You’re sure it’s gone?”

“Yeah, but more importantly—what the fuck was that? It’s the second time vines have protected me. How is that even possible?”

He shrugs. “People and animals aren’t the only experiments on this island.”

My pulse races as realization sets in. “Are you saying plants have been injected with aromium too?”

He nods. I haven’t even processed my shock yet when his arm shoots out and he moves me behind him.

“Something just moved on the beach,” he whispers.

Not the jaguar again. I groan inwardly. We’ve been lucky to not have confrontations with predators so far, but luck always runs out.

Marcus gestures for me to stay behind him as he creeps toward the beach, machete in hand. We didn’t bring stun sticks because they’re cumbersome, but right now I wish I had one.

I draw my handgun, leaving the safety on, scanning our surroundings as Marcus keeps his gaze ahead.

When he has a clear view of the beach, his shoulders drop with relief. “It’s Flavius.”

I lower my gun. When we step onto the fine ivory grains of beach sand, Flavius is sitting midway down the shore, looking at us.

As we get closer, he walks farther down the beach. Marcus follows, both of us constantly checking the area around us for any movement. Normally, I’d marvel at the pink-and-orange sunset over the ocean, but I can’t afford the distraction.

“We’re too exposed here,” I murmur. “I don’t like it.”

“Let’s move faster.”

We don’t have to worry about walking quietly out here; the wet sand makes for quiet footfalls. Flavius looks over his shoulder, making sure we’re still following.

The melee on the beach the day I arrived here is still fresh in my mind. I’m imagining an arrow from a concealed archer hitting Marcus in the chest, my heart racing faster with every step we take.

“I don’t like this,” I repeat.

He glances back at me, nodding at the ground beside us. “Look.”

I’ve been looking everywhere but down, and when I do, my jaw drops. There are footprints in the sand a few feet away, leading in the direction we’re walking. Flavius’s large paw prints are visible right beside the footprints.

Marcus is moving faster now, almost at a jog. I manage to keep up, but it’s hard to scan our surroundings thoroughly at this pace.

“Fucking hell.” Marcus skids to a stop.

I put my hand on his arm to help stop my own trajectory. When I follow his gaze, I find a very lean man with sun-weathered skin sitting on a flat rock that’s part of a big rock formation at the shoreline. He’s holding on to a fishing pole made from a stripped tree branch.

Flavius sits beside the rocks, his mission accomplished.

Marcus stalks over to the man, shaking his head as he studies him.

“Hello, Marcus.”

“Dr. McClain.”

My pulse pounds with nervousness, though I don’t know why. This man is maybe five feet, ten inches, and he can’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty-five pounds. He has no weapons and his expression is placid.

“You really fucked me,” Marcus says, his tone harsh.

McClain pushes the nosepiece on his dark-rimmed glasses up higher on his nose, staring out at the watercolor sunset. “I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Marcus crosses his arms over his chest. “Here’s a little something you need to understand. I’m fighting a losing battle. Virginia has more numbers than I do. She has the microclimate controls back online.”

“You turned your aromium back on.”

Marcus shifts, tension tightening his muscles. “Didn’t have much choice. The Tiders are picking off my people. I need your help.”

McClain meets Marcus’s gaze. “I have to live with what I’ve done. All I can do now is not add anything else to the list.”

Rubbing his jaw, Marcus laughs bitterly. “The fire you started is raging out of control, and there’s a hose in reach. Not helping innocent people is a choice, and it’s the wrong one.”

“I can’t, Marcus.”

Marcus’s expression darkens, a storm raging in his eyes. He’s restraining himself, but I wonder if, after all the work it took to find McClain, his refusal to help will spark Marcus’s temper into action.

“You have to. It’s not too late to land on the right side of this.”

McClain’s face is lined with regret. He’s shirtless, the lines of his ribs visible. It’s hard to look at a person who seems to be straddling the lands of the living and the dead the way he is.

“I searched this island every day for nine months for the flower,” he says, his voice flat and hopeless. “That’s all I did, from sunrise to dusk. I combed every inch I could get to.”

“Don’t you know where it is from the first time you found it?”

McClain shakes his head. “A team of scientists came here to survey the island. Those flowers were dug up by a woman who filled her bags with them and was attacked by a lion on her way back to camp. We found the bags when we found her body.”

Marcus’s shoulders sink, a little more hope dying inside him. It pains me to see his resolve cracked by this man who gave up when things got hard.

“As long as we’re alive, there’s hope,” I say, moving to stand beside Marcus. “We’re not giving up.”

Marcus nods. “Briar, meet the elusive Dr. Randall McClain. And we’re not giving up. I brought rope in case we needed it. He’s coming back with us, one way or another.”

McClain smiles sadly. “I’m an empty vessel, Marcus. Tie my hands. Push me off a cliff. I no longer care what happens to me.”

Marcus roots around in his pack. “That may be true, but you’re going to witness the destruction you caused. You’re not watching peaceful sunsets while my people get hunted.”

McClain braces his hand on a rock and climbs down, his arms and legs sticklike. “I knew you’d find me. I’ve been moving for days. You’ve got people hunting me .”

“Couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy,” Marcus says stiffly as he pulls out a rope. “If I didn’t need you, I’d shoot you in the head right now.”

McClain sighs, looking defeated. “I won’t work in the lab. I won’t analyze or create anything. Even if you torture me. Finding the flowers was the only hope, but there are none.”

Marcus shakes his head. “You’re a piece of work. Are you going to walk, or do I need to carry you?”

“I’ll walk.”

McClain’s gaze lands on the knife at my waist. “I’ve been looking for that.”

Marcus ties the rope around McClain’s midsection, then secures it around his own waist.

“You try anything, I’ll knock you unconscious and carry you the rest of the way,” he says.

“There’s no fight left in me. I’m just existing until the day I die.”

Marcus scoffs, disgusted. “How fucking zen, you selfish bastard.”

When his eyes meet mine, I offer a sympathetic look. His tortured expression reaches inside me, making me even more curious about his history with McClain.

I know enough, though. McClain made aromium, which means he worked for Whitman. Which makes him my enemy.