Page 55 of Blue Arrow Island
Both of us. Dead. I don’t want to be responsible for killing someone else. I put one foot in front of the other.
“Arm around my neck,” she snaps. “Right now.”
I do it, leaning against her. A curtain of smooth black hair fills the crack of vision I have left.
She picks up her pace and I do my best to match her steps, my feet dragging.
“Come on. You can do this, Briar.”
I turn my face, catching part of her profile. “Amira?”
“Yeah. I’ve got you. Just move your feet for me, okay? You have to move your feet.”
She’s alive. How? I want to ask her, but it’s all I can do to breathe and keep from passing out.
“I’m dying,” I mumble. “Leave...me.”
“No. Just move your feet. That’s all I need you to do. We don’t have that far to go.”
I want to tell her the Tiders will find us. And then they’ll kill her, too.
I breathe deeply, my feet aching but landing solidly on the ground now. Everything hurts, but I’m alive. I was so sure I was about to die—surer than I’ve ever been—and somehow, I’m still breathing.
A wave of nausea hits. I swallow it, forcing myself to keep moving.
We exit the jungle and Amira stops next to a cluster of overgrown bushes. She eases me into a sitting position on the ground, then bends so we’re at eye level.
“Listen to me, Briar. This is really important. I’m going to get help, but you can’t come any farther with me now.”
I groan in a weak protest.
“If you follow me, you’ll get sick. Remember how we were unconscious on the boat when they brought us here? They implanted something in us. It makes you faster and stronger. My camp has a device that makes anyone with that implant in them sicker and sicker as they get closer, and if they keep coming, they’ll die. I need you to hide in these bushes and be quiet until I get back.”
I just look at her, too stunned to even nod. There’s something implanted in me?
She pulls a stainless water bottle from a pack on her back and pushes it into my hands.
“Get in there and drink water andstay awake.” She looks at the pool of blood on the ground beneath my leg. “Fuck. Get in there now and I’ll cover this up. Stay awake, Briar, do you hear me? Do not go to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I crawl into the bushes, prickly branches scraping my already raw cheeks and arms. When I curl up, there’s something hard poking into my back.
I don’t care, though. This is as good a place to die as any. At least Virginia won’t have the satisfaction of seeing the last of my life drain out of me.
PART TWO
18
We train differently than recreational shooters. When you’re in a high-stress situation, your body enters fight-or-flight mode. Fine motor skills slip and your heart rate spikes. You may even experience auditory exclusion and not even hear your own gunshots.
- Excerpt from a transcript of a police academy course taught by Ben Hollis
“Briar, can you hear me?”
Droplets of water splash onto my face. I gasp and try to sit up, but everything hurts—even breathing. Best not to move, then.
“I’m here.” A hand slides around mine. “It’s Amira. You have to hold on.”
Hold on. To what? There’s nothing but pain and exhaustion, and I can’t take any more.
