Page 34 of Blue Arrow Island
Rona and I are both dressed in our dry second set of clothing, our clothes from yesterday hanging by the door on makeshift rope clotheslines. They’re still dripping, everything so soaked it will take days to dry.
“So...how are you feeling?” I ask Rona.
I can’t see her in the pitch black of the windowless room, but I think she’s awake. For around twelve hours, I slept through much of the storm, but I don’t know how much she slept. We’ve just been lying on our sleeping pallets for hours, only speaking occasionally about the storm.
It takes her about thirty seconds to respond. “I don’t know. I’m okay.”
After all this time alone in the darkness with my thoughts, I’m feeling restless. I get to my feet and stretch my arms, reaching my fingertips toward the ceiling.
We usually work and sleep different shifts, so I don’t usually get to talk to Rona, especially now that I don’t work in the kitchen anymore. I test the waters.
“Weird things have been happening to me since I got here. Did you go through anything like that?”
She hums a note of amusement. “Yeah.”
I hesitate, then say, “But we aren’t supposed to talk about it, right? People here run faster than they should be able to and can pick up things they shouldn’t be strong enough to pick up. I shouldn’t have been able to run as fast as I did yesterday, and?—”
“It’s the island.”
I twist my body at the waist, first to the left and then to the right. “What does that mean, though? That the island is magic?”
“I guess so.”
“Does it bother you? Not knowing for sure?”
There’s a shuffling sound as she gets into a sitting position. “Nope. I’m just trying to stay alive. Not get beaten to death in the circle or starve to death.”
There’s a tinge of bitterness in her voice. I should just drop it, but I don’t have any other allies here. I’m not just in the dark in this room right now, but in every respect of this place. Whateveris responsible for the changes in people here—even if it is magic—it seems to be cumulative.
The fours can run the fastest and jump the highest. They’re the ones chanting “peace, order, prosperity” the loudest.
I’m worried that the slower I am at finding answers and trying to get off this island, the less I’m going to want to. I don’t want to become a loyal soldier and breeder for Whitman. I won’t.
“Has there always been a food shortage here?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been here for like...six months? I guess it’s been worse lately, but it’s all about how much fish and game the hunters can get.”
I take a deep breath before continuing. I have to trust someone, and so far, Rona is the closest thing I have to a friend here, other than Olin.
“Do you know what they do to the kids here?”
“The kids are raised together because it’s more efficient. We can’t have women sitting around with babies on their tits all day. It’s hard enough to survive here even with all the women contributing.”
I don’t understand it. Rona sounds like everyone else here. Indoctrinated. And technically, we’re all prisoners. But the Rising Tiders seem almostgratefulto their captors. I don’t care what anyone says—I’ll never think this place is anything but fucked.
“But...what’s everyone trainingfor?” I ask. “I saw the kids in their camp and they’re a bunch of mini soldiers. It was creepy and sad. None of them were smiling or laughing. They were training like we do.”
Rona’s sigh is weary. “We don’t smile or laugh, either. Just wait. I’ve seen people brought back from the jungle in pieces after the Dust Walkers got ahold of them. Or the jaguars.”
“Do you ever think about trying to get out of here?”
She snorts derisively. “Out of here? Like out of this camp?”
“Off the island.”
“And go where?”
“Back to the mainland.”
