Page 37

Rodger

Sam

I can just barely see Zane from where I’m hiding. The rain’s a slow drizzle; from experience, I know it’s going to shift to a downpour soon.

The tripwires are in place. They’re something we added after they took the Rock Candy. Every week, we’ve been testing them to make sure they’re not buried too deep. And to think I almost suggested Zane should use them for securing the new bathroom platform.

I give the end of the wire a test, raising the bit in the jungle just an inch. It’s going to work—as long as they come up the path and not straight through the underbrush.

Dante’s up on the platform. He’s watching to make sure they don’t launch a second tender.

I’m not thinking about how my gut stirred watching Haley and Penny run for the cave. No good can come from that.

Focus, Sam.

Under cover it’s swelteringly hot, and sweat runs down the side of my face.

There’s a trio of flies buzzing around too.

I ignore all of it. If ever there was a time I needed to focus, it’s now.

I need to keep her and my whole crew safe.

This clusterfuck is my fault, after all.

I should never have left the shipyard. The Rock Candy had already been mucked with, and I should have seen it.

No, we’re coming out of this, and I’m going to fucking take down the people who left us here.

I glance back at the ocean. Their damn boat is slower than anything. They must have another ship to come alongside cargo ships. When they get to the bay, they launch a tender. I think I see four men on board, which might give us a chance. Even without the gun.

I’m fucking hoping this gives Calvin and Haley a chance.

It’s something that the five of us talked about a while ago.

We went round and round about whether to tell Haley or not.

We took a vote about whether we should tell her.

Three to two against. Zane and Easton wanted to tell her.

There’s no way she would have gone with Calvin, if we had told her.

No way. We’re planning on giving up our lives if it means saving her.

Fuck, I hope I get to see how pissed she is when she finds out we left her out of the plans. That means she’s alive and I am too.

I almost swung the other way with Zane sitting on my shoulder like the good angel saying, “She’d want to take care of Penny.” Calvin and Dante, they wanted her to start living in the cave that very day.

But it all comes down to what we believe the pirates know about us.

And our theory was that they don’t know Haley’s here and they most likely didn’t get a good look at Calvin, not in the twilight.

So if the pirates attacked, it would be Easton they’d want.

As Rocky’s son, and an Olympian, his picture has to have gone around the world.

If they find Easton straight out, they’d most likely kill us all.

If they didn’t, they might take us all prisoner. Which is better than dead.

I’m hoping they’re all as horrible a shot as the guy back on Chicken Beach. Not that Easton’s arm getting hit wasn’t bad. Again, not dead. That’s what I want for all of us.

But they only put four of them on the tender. We have a fucking chance. They’re betting on us just welcoming them like saviors. Or being so weak from hunger that we’ll be no trouble to defeat. We’re fucking neither of those things.

Calvin’s been attacked by pirates before, back when he was on a cargo ship. But I’ve never come face-to-face with them. The closest I’ve ever gotten was the ship that motored by my six when the Rocky Candy was adrift. Then there was nothing I could do. But now, this is our home. Our turf.

At first, it felt like it was hopeless. Like back on the Rock Candy when I watched and waited to see if they would notice me. This is our island, and we’re going to protect the damn thing and the woman we love.

In my peripheral, I see Dante scramble down the treehouse ladder and take position. He holds up one finger and then four, confirming what I saw. One tender with four men on it. Dante moves into position on the other side of camp.

“Attention castaways. We are here to save you. Surrender.” A bull horn squeaks off.

The speaker’s English is stilted with a French accent.

It’s one I think I remember hearing on the radio.

“Come out of the jungle. No harm.” They’re not on the beach yet.

Their old outboard motor is loud enough to hear over the crashing waves.

I can’t see Zane’s eyes roll, but I know they do. If it wasn’t the same pirate ship that took the Rock Candy and shot a bullet through Easton’s arm... maybe we might have believed them.

Then the motor’s off. Do they tie it off?

Or run right up the beach? I risk the slightest movement, peeking out from my green palm frond cover.

The best fucking idea. They’re out of the tender.

I signal as much to Zane and give him a nod.

I’m clenching my jaw tight enough it ticks all the way in my chest. My palms are sweating around the bamboo handle.

They pull the tender onto the beach. It’s at such an angle that I can’t see exactly what they’re doing. But the waft of gas fumes tickles my nose. I’ve always loved the smell of gasoline, but that changes now.

These are only the first two obstacles we’ve laid out. Zane’s controlling the first one. I’ve got the second one.

Their boots are closer. Zane pulls, and it hits the first guy’s boot. He drops onto his chest. A sand cloud puffs up around him, obscuring whether we got either of the others, but at least one has tumbled into the first. He’s swearing in a language I don’t know.

Zane holds his position. The other two are sweeping side to side while the first one tries to get up.

The one in the back is coughing while the other is yelling into his radio.

The pirate in the sand pushes up, and sand pours from his shirt and gun.

I’m holding the bamboo and the wire, waiting, holding, holding.

.. waiting for the other two to step forward.

At last, one of them lifts his left foot, then his right foot comes down, and I pull it.

I yank as hard as I can. It cuts right through his boot, and he drops.

His radio flies out of his hand. And now Zane and I both dart away in opposite directions—because that was the plan, that we’d both create motion after the second wire was triggered.

They’re swearing and muttering, and general chaos erupts.

My throat is raw and dry, but I can’t afford to let fear take control.

I can’t afford to fail. Haley’s life depends on it.

She’s the reason why we were all living this last year.

The bond that keeps us waking up every morning.

My reason for living. I’ve never known what this kind of love is before.

But I will willingly give my life if it means she lives.

The thought of them hurting her? Of even touching her? No, I won’t let it happen.

My heart beats in my ears with each strong step I take away from camp. The plan will succeed. I’ll protect her with everything I have.

I round the map tree, around the backside to where I meet up with the path. Zane should be heading the other way into the thicket.

I can hear them now. There are two behind me. The others must have taken off after Zane. Two... I can do this. I can do this. Hopefully they’ve been slowed down by whatever damage the wires did to their legs.

I thunder down the trail toward the derelict, away from Easton, away from Haley and Calvin, away from my Penny.

I’d rather stay and fight. But bringing a knife to a gun fight?

Never a good idea. I need them to chase me.

And then end up finding Haley instead? No, they’re on my tail. They’ll take the bait.

It’s always loud here—birds, the water, buzzing insects—but now all I can hear is the sound of my feet hitting the sand of the trail. When I turn off the path, each dried palm frond crunch echoes in the base of my skull.

I need to get them to the derelict. It’s one of the two locations that made the most sense.

If they don’t fall for my ruse, I can fall back and use the heavy side planks of the one wall that’s left as cover before swimming around the edge of the rocky bay.

That’s the plan, but there’s no way I’m letting that happen.

My steps are elongated, and no matter how hard I try to run without making a sound, I’m thundering. I’ve never run this hard—not even the time in high school when I thought I could be a track star at tryouts. Not even the time when I thought my sister was going to run into traffic.

My thighs are cramping. I’m darting in and out on the trail.

Off the trail, I make my way to a stream, crossing it.

I jump past where the stream ends, emptying into the ocean.

I’m close but not quite to the derelict.

I’m heading down to an area where I can hopefully fight them off, protect myself from any bullets that might fly.

Loud voices scream and yell, “Americano! Americano, come back here. We won’t hurt you. We won’t hurt you.” He screams in a French-Asian combo way. Like shit you won’t hurt me. Why is that AK-47 strapped to your chest if you didn’t plan to hurt me?

I pass the trail where I know Easton will have gone and continue into the jungle.

Part of me wishes I had done this weeks ago, months ago, back when I was still making fire every day at the derelict, working on my surprise to make Haley paper.

Back when I had my tools here, tools I could use as weapons.

Now, my hope is they follow me into the other pit.

I need them to be close but not too close.

I jump to the left and hide behind one of the large banyan trees. I need to wait. The pit’s up ahead. They need to be closer, close enough that they fall for it. I hear them coming, and I take steps. I go. I run next to the pit, careful not to trigger it myself. Nimble steps to the side of it.

The two of them come up behind me.

“Stop right there!” one yells.

But I don’t. I keep going. I hear the palm fronds and bamboo break, the hole opening up, swallowing them. One of them screams, but the other one hasn’t been caught. I hear the gun cock.

“Stop!” he yells and fires next to me.