Page 95 of Blue Arrow Island
We went into the Sub, which is what they call the underground area the tunnel leads to, and he got us each two handguns, a bow and arrow for himself and a stun stick for me.
He set the stick up to activate with my thumbprint and told me it works like a super Taser. I feel safer with it in hand as we head into the jungle.
“We both know you doubted me.” I give him a knowing look.
“I did underestimate you,” he admits.
“You aren’t the first.”
He’s leading the way back to the spot where Amira hid me in a bush, walking a worn dirt path. A line of sweat trails down his spine, rolling all the way past the waistband of his shorts.
“Do you just not like shirts?”
He grins at me over his shoulder. “It’s more than a hundred degrees. I soak every shirt with sweat by nine a.m., so I save the laundry team some work and just don’t wear one a lot of the time.”
“God, those people must have to wash so much sweaty underwear.” The thought of track marks added in with the sweat makes me cringe on their behalf.
“We have big tubs with hand cranks. A few of ’em are set up behind bikes, so right before sunrise some of the laundry people ride around camp and the pedaling turns the cranks for them.”
“They scrub their hands bloody at Rising Tide. And hardly have any soap.”
If he responds, I don’t hear it. After another minute, he stops and I follow suit. He listens for a few seconds. A roar cuts through the chatter of birds, making me break out in goose bumps.
“Lion,” he whispers. “But it’s not close.”
That’s not much consolation. But he starts walking again, so I do, too.
“Where does the electricity come from?” I ask.
He hesitates for a second before answering. “We have solar and hydro sources.”
“So if aromium is Whitman’s experiment, did he have the camp built? The Dust Walker camp?” I immediately regret calling it that. “Sorry, I don’t mean to offend you.”
“We don’t mind being called that. The Tiders mean it like we’re Luddites because we’re against aromium.”
I hum with amusement. “That’s kind of funny considering all the technology you guys have in your camp.”
“Most of them don’t know what we have. They just know what Virginia tells them.”
“And Pax. You never mention Pax, but they’re coleaders.”
“In name only. Virginia’s running that show.”
He’s right about that. It occurs to me that he knows a lot about Rising Tide. More than an outsider would.
“You didn’t come here with the scientists’ camp, did you? You were a Tider.”
“Yep.”
He pulls out a bandanna, wrapping it around his forehead and tying it behind his head. It’s already brutally hot, only a few snowflakes making it through the thick jungle canopy.
“What did you do before the virus?” I ask him.
“Med student. First year.”
“Really?”
He turns to glance over his shoulder at me. “Why does that surprise you?”
