Page 103 of The Island

Oh my God.

The drone zoomed out to sea and headed south.

What was happening?

She crawled to the edge of the cliff again. No sign of Olivia or anyone else.

“We have to get down there, Owen. I’m going to lower you and I’ll be right after.”

Owen shook his head. “No, Heather! You don’t know what you’re doing! You have no plan. You never did! All you’re doing is running. I’m going back the other way. Maybe in that ordnance place I can find a grenade or something and fight those people!”

“You can’t do that, Owen.”

“Watch me. I’ve had it with you ignoring all my ideas. I’m leaving! I’ll get a weapon and I’ll get Olivia and we’ll get out of here by ourselves.”

“No, please don’t,” she said, trying to grab his arm.

He snatched his hand away from her and began heading south, back the way they’d come. “You’re weak and you have no plan. You don’t…you…I can do better on my own. You’re shit! I’ll find a grenade or dynamite, and I’ll take them all on instead of us taking it.”

She watched him go, muttering to himself.

It would, of course, be easier with just her and Olivia.

Easier to hide, easier to run.

Owen had always been the more difficult of the two children. There was something unspoken between him and his dad, some unresolved anger. She was often the target of Owen’s rage and frequently got caught in the cross fire between him and Tom. She had tried to make things better but clearly had only made things worse. Part of this was her fault. She had underestimated how much the kids would dislike her. She had thought she would win them over. But it didn’t work like that. Not at the ages they were. Carolyn had warned her. Carolyn had an older sister and cousins. They are going to hate you, Carolyn had said. It was too soon after their mom…

She should have said no to Tom. But the big new house, the car, Tom’s reassurances…

And really, if you looked at it, she had done her best by all of them. She had tried her damnedest.

Without either of the kids, she would have a much better chance of survival. Perhaps she could swim over to the mainland by herself or negotiate a way out.

The distance lengthened between her and the boy.

She closed her eyes.

He would be dead by nightfall.

Oh, yes, if she were alone, her chances would increase exponentially.

She imagined it for one beat, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

She sighed, opened her eyes, and sprinted after him.

She skidded to a halt in front of him and said, “I was wrong, Owen. Wrong about the seawater distilling. I should have listened to you. We need you. Me and Olivia. Stay with us, please, OK?”

He was crying. He’d been terrified she was going to let him go. He wiped his cheeks. Sniffed.

“Will you stay with us, Owen? Will you help us?”

“OK. I guess I can’t leave my sister.”

“Thank you,” she said and put her arm around him and they went back to the edge of the cliff. Heather lowered him slowly, her left shoulder aching. Owen was heavier than his sister. The shoulder with the shotgun wound began oozing blood.

She tried to release him but Owen did not want her to let go.

“I’m going to break my legs,” he whispered.