Page 31 of Blue Arrow Island
I need time to think about the robotic soldier children, the thoughts I’m having that aren’t my own, and the Dust Walkers. I don’t have that luxury now, though.
You’ve got more in the tank than you think.
My dad used to say that when Maven and I started dragging on training runs. I try to remember the sound of his voice saying those words as I run. He’s not here, but he’s still with me. I want to make him proud, and that means I can’t quit.
I slide in the mud again, and this time I land on my hands and knees. I push myself up carefully and keep moving.
Water gushes down the sides of the trail, the rain getting heavier. Hair that has escaped my ponytail is plastered to my face, a section of it in my eyes. I shove it aside with a frustrated groan.
I’m running, my head down so I can keep my eyes on the mud path. For a guy who’s supposed to be fearless, Pax left me in the dust without a second thought.
That’s a thought for later. Run, Briar.
More than two hours in, the path is so flooded I’m splashing through water. The front of one of my boots catches onsomething and I’m thrown. My head hits something hard, my teeth rattling from the impact.
Pain blossoms inside my head. I can’t get a full breath. Instinctively, I reach behind my head to see what I hit. A tree.
I curl up, turning my face toward the ground to get a break from the rain. With every shallow breath, I get a nose full of earthy soil and decaying leaves.
I’m not dying here. Not in this jungle, not on this island. Every day since the virus has been hard in one way or another. And so damn lonely.
My parents begged me to stay on the small island where my summer botany internship was being hosted when the virus hit, to minimize my chances of getting it. Then the electrical grid and cell towers went down.
It took me more than a month to get to their house, and when I did, it had been ransacked by looters. The virus killed almost everyone, and I know my parents and sister are most likely included in the death toll.
But not knowing for sure, or how, or when, or if they were together—those are the things that haunt me. I didn’t just lose my family but also the only people in the world I could trust.
Friends who were part of the research project turned on me, and on each other. If not for the small revolver my father insisted I keep with me at all times, I never would have made it back to the mainland.
I have to be close to Rising Tide. Bracing my hand against the tree, I turn and get to my knees, a wave of anger hitting me out of nowhere.
This island might be sentient. The scientist in me can’t believe I’m even having the thought. But there are no scientific explanations for thoughts that aren’t my own popping into my head, or children who can jump twelve feet into the air.
Somehow, this island may be inside me. Inside everyone here. It may have an agenda, and if it does, it’s not good for any of us. But it can’t have me. I’m not rolling over and letting this place mindfuck me.
I don’t have my family, but I have everything my parents taught me. I have a bond with my sister that can’t be undone by anyone—or anything.
Biting off a groan, I rise to my feet. My head aches and I can hardly see through the thick sheets of rain. The inches of water pooled at my feet shouldn’t have been able to accumulate in a matter of two hours, but on this island, there are no rules.
I put my head down and keep going. As long as I’m not running into trees, I’m still on the path. And as long as I keep moving, I’ll get there.
A gust of wind slams into my chest as I leave the jungle, sweeping my feet out from under me.
“Briar!”
Pax reaches down to help me up, his hair blowing in every direction and water trails running down his bare chest.
“Take shelter in your room!” He’s yelling, and it’s still hard to hear him over the howling wind and pouring rain. “There’s a hurricane coming!”
I nod and head toward the room I share with Rona, my boots sloshing through standing water that almost reaches my ankles.
Hardly anyone is out at camp. I pass a few fours running with backpacks full of supplies, but no one else. A rectangular section of metal roofing just misses slamming into me as it blows past.
I need to get into the room soon. Staying out in this is too dangerous.
Clutching onto the handrail, I climb the stairs to our second-level room. A hunger pain punches me in the gut. Billy, Olin and Rona would normally be working in the kitchen now, but they’re probably all holed up in their rooms like everyone else.
The housing is built from mortared concrete blocks, so it should be a safe place to ride out a hurricane. And hopefully, a dry one. I really want to get out of my soaking wet clothes and boots.
