Page 19 of Blue Arrow Island
Someone moves. The sound of a turning doorknob grabs my attention. A crack of dim night light is visible as the door opens.
Marcelle walks into the room, a small, primitive torch made from a tree branch in hand. The flickering flames highlight the harsh lines of her thin face, vitriol swirling in her eyes. The corners of her lips turn up in a cruel grin. She presses the door closed and turns the lock.
“Time to find out what we do to baby killers here.”
A hard kick lands in my stomach, doubling me over. My feet are swept out from under me, putting me in a prone position on the ground.
Instinct kicks in. I shield my head with my hands and scoot away, hitting a wall.
We’re in Marcelle’s tiny room. She passes the torch to someone else and descends on me, her hands wildly punching me everywhere. Spit lands on my cheek.
Someone else is kicking my legs. My arms are being forced from around my head and held to the ground.
I try to resist, but they’re all so damnstrong. I get a hand free and use it to claw at Marcelle’s face, hooking a thumb inside her cheek and pulling on her face with every ounce of my strength.
She mutters a curse and bites me, drawing blood. It’s warm, a droplet falling onto my cheek.
I’m beat. There are too many of them. But I won’t give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry. I hold in every moan and plea, taking my mind somewhere else.
I’m with my sister. We’re kids again, running through a clearing of wildflowers. Her smile is carefree, the sun glinting off her caramel ponytail as it swings through the air.
Mae is with me. I’m not going to die alone.
7
Life is not always a matter of holding good cards, but sometimes, playing a poor hand well.
- Jack London, The Strength of the Strong
“Hey, she’s waking up.”
My eyelids are weighted. I want to open them and see who’s talking, but I can’t.
“Briar, open your eyes.”
I’m faintly aware that my head hurts. My legs do, too. But I’ll worry about that later. I just don’t have the energy.
“Briar.” The deep voice turns stern. “Come on, we don’t have IVs here. You have to drink and eat if you want to live. Wake up.”
The musky scents of decaying vegetation and wet soil fast-track my return to reality. I’m on the island. And the voice belongs to Pax.
It takes all my energy to force my eyes open, and I immediately squint against the light. Pax slowly transforms from a blurry outline to someone I recognize.
“Attagirl,” he says. “I’m gonna help you into a sitting position so you can get some water down. It’s going to hurt, but you have to do it.”
He wraps an arm around my middle back, stabbing pains shooting through my core. I groan and try to resist the movement, but I’m too weak.
“You were beaten.” He supports my back with one arm, his other hand picking up a canteen. “Can you hold this?”
I look at him blankly. I can’t even lift my arm up, let alone hold anything.
“I need some help,” he calls over his shoulder.
“On my way, Commander.”
A woman comes to the other side of the bed, unscrewing the canteen’s cap and holding it up to my lips. I go limp, unable to stay awake any longer.
“Briar, drink the fucking water.” Pax’s harsh tone brings me out of my haze. “You want to live? Drink the water and eat the food. Mari will pour it in your mouth if you need her to.”
