The Island Read online

  Copyright 2015 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  Dark Season Books

  First published: November 2015

  “The revolution never came. We all waited, but it didn't happen. Eventually we just had to accept that the world was never going to change.”

  In the near future, it's not hard to end up on the wrong side of the law. Every lie counts, every minor mistake. Build up enough points, and you'll be hauled off to work for the government. The only possible escape is the island, a remote wilderness with no rules and no laws. But if you choose to go to the island, you can never come back.

  Everyone knows that only crazy people go to the island.

  Arrested for a crime she didn't commit, Iris soon discovers that she already has a long criminal record she never knew about. When her world comes crashing down, she makes the ultimate choice and invokes her right to be sent to the island. There, she quickly discovers the horrors of a land where anyone can do anything they want, free of all rules and laws. She also meets Asher, a mysterious girl with a dark past and a crazy plan to establish her own town in the midst of the island's chaos. First, though, they both have to face a deadly group with a taste for human flesh.

  The Island is the first book in the Steadfall series, about two people trying to establish their own order in a mad world, and about the horrors that take place when humanity is let off the leash.

  The Island

  (Steadfall book 1)

  Prologue

  “Steadfall?” the first soldier says with a frown, once he's wiped more moss from the battered old wooden sign. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Who cares?” the other soldier mutters, kicking the sign over and taking a couple of steps forward, before stopping when she sees a tell-tale glint of human bone poking out from the muddy ground. “Some of these people, man,” he continues. “God knows what the hell they got up to. If you ask me, they were just a bunch of savages. That's what happens to people when they leave civilization behind. They just turn into apes. It's like they de-evolve.”

  She glances around, just to make sure that there's still no sign of anyone in the forest, before crouching and using a gloved hand to wipe some mud away from the piece of bone. After just a couple of seconds, she finds a partial human skull staring up at her, with the section around its temple and crown having been crushed.

  “Case in point,” she mutters. “No respect for the dignity of the human body. Corpses just left out to rot in the sun.”

  She glances at the nearby buildings. Several crude wooden huts have been set up on either side of a battered dirt road. Some of the buildings have signs above their doors, declaring them to be owned by various people, while one is apparently some kind of doctor's surgery and another is a mess hall.

  “It's almost like they tried to make a town,” she continues. “I'd like to have seen that. A bunch of dumb grunts, playing house with pieces of old wood.”

  “Nice,” the first soldier says with a smile, adjusting the grip on his gun as he watches the tattered old tent in a clearing just a few hundred feet away, beyond the last of the wooden huts. “What do you think this was, some kinda settlement?”

  Reaching down, the second soldier starts gently lifting the damaged skull from the mud, although she quickly finds that the back has been shattered. Fragments of bone fall away, and finally she has just the front and most of the jaw in her hands, with the rest slipping between her fingers and dropping back down into the mud. Chuckling at some brief thought, the soldier turns the skull around, examining the cavity where once there would have been a brain.

  “Looks like someone got a hell of a whack to the back of the head,” she mutters, poking a finger through one of the eye sockets. “I guess these people really did become brutes, huh? I mean, I knew things were bad on the island, but I never knew they were this bad.”

  Getting to her feet, she turns and props the broken skull on top of the sign, just above the spot where the word Steadfall has been carved.

  “There,” she continues, “now -”

  Before she can finish, there's a sudden shuffling sound from the tent. Both soldiers turn and instinctively raise their guns, but the sound is soon over.

  “Some kind of animal?” the first soldier whispers, with obvious tension in his voice.

  Without replying, the second soldier takes a cautious step toward the tent. A moment later there's another bumping sound, and this time the faint shadow of a human figure can be seen on the other side of the fabric.

  “Halt!” the first soldier shouts, stepping forward with his gun aimed at the tent. “Come out with your hands up!”

  They both wait, and finally they're able to hear a sniffing sound from inside.

  “Is it...” The second soldier pauses. “What the hell, is someone crying in there?”

  “I don't give a damn,” the first soldier replies, taking a couple of steps forward through the mud. “Come out now,” he shouts, “and raise your hands, or we will consider you to be a hostile presence! This is your final warning!”

  He pauses, but although a scrabbling sound can be heard from inside the tent, no-one emerges.

  “It probably isn't dangerous,” the second soldier points out, keeping her voice low. “It's probably just some dumb, scared -”

  Without waiting to hear another word, the first soldier opens fire, spraying the tent with bullets for a few seconds until one of the main poles collapses, bringing the fabric down. As he lets go of the trigger, the soldier spots a human figure stumbling beneath the fallen fabric, so he quickly fires another burst, hitting the figure several times and causing it to slump down. Letting go of the trigger again, the soldiers sees several patches of blood already soaking through the fabric now that the figure is completely still.

  Job done.

  “Are we...” The second soldier pauses for a moment, clearly a little shocked. “Are we gonna mention this in the report?”

  “Hell, no.” The first soldier makes his way over to the tent and takes out a knife, using it to rip the fabric open. He quickly finds a pair of bare, pale legs underneath, so he tears the fabric a little further until finally he's able to see the rest of the bloodied corpse. “She's dead,” he mutters, holding the flap of fabric open for a moment as he stares down into a pair of glassy eyes. Finally he drops the fabric over the corpse's face and turns to the other soldier. “Come on, let's keep moving. We've got several more miles of this hellhole to cover before sundown.”

  With that, they both head off, making their way toward the far side of the clearing. The bloodied corpse waits in the ruins of the tent for wild animals to come and pick it clean, while the broken skull is still propped on top of the sign, directly above the name of the settlement: Steadfall, carved into the wood many years earlier.

  Above, a black helicopter swoops low through the sky, searching for survivors.

  Chapter One

  Iris

  Ten years earlier

  The revolution never came, but the posters are still in the streets. They're peeled and faded now, and most of them have long since been pasted over with other messages, but a few are poking out here and there, calling 'ordinary people' to arms. I don't know why they were left up, but I guess the government decided they were no threat. After all, only fools still think there'll be a revolution.

  The world is set.

  This is just how things will be forever and ever and ever.

  You can't fight the system. If you try, y
ou'll be crushed. All you can do is try not to get noticed, and work your way up from the mud. You've got to play the cards you were dealt.

  ***

  I've never seen so much rain in my life. It only takes me a few seconds to run from the stadium entrance to the cover of the fog converters, but I'm quickly drenched. I stop to catch my breath, but after a moment I become aware of two Avvarian Queens watching me from nearby, their face masks flickering with deep intent; I know I shouldn't be scared of them, but I've heard more than enough stories so I figure I need to keep moving. Turning, I watch as a large Schiff mining drone makes its way over the street, its blue warning lights flashing in the rain. Some kids are throwing rocks at the engines, but it's just a game. They don't actually expect to bring the damn thing down.

  God, imagine if they did.

  There'd be soldiers everywhere within an hour.

  Sensing movement nearby, I turn and find that one of the Avvarian Queens has come closer and is sniffing my shoulder. I force a flat smile as I duck away and hurry back out into the rain. The broken pavement has already begun to sink into vast pools of mud, so I jump from one section to another, all the while getting pounded by cold rain that has already begun to soak through my clothes. I head toward the concessions awning, but I quickly spot a hooded figure loitering and I figure I don't want to take any risks, not with the rumors that have been going around lately. Instead, I run around the back of the nearby stalls and grab a loaf of bread. I don't hear anyone shouting at me, but I duck down anyway and crawl between the legs of the crowd until I emerge next to the side of the old hotel.

  Damn it, I'm soaked.

  Still, almost home.

  I wriggle past several bystanders, while trying to shove the loaf into my shoulder bag. Great, wet bread. A few groping hands reach out at me, fumbling for a feel through my clothes. One particularly rough hand manages to briefly cup my waist, pressing the soaking cold fabric against my flesh, but I manage to keep going and finally I slip through the crack in the hotel wall. Turning, I glance back out at the rain-lashed scene and watch the mass of merchants and customers as they swarm through the marketplace. I like the fact that no-one ever notices me, that they just think of me as some dumb kid darting and scurrying through the crowd. I'd hate to be the kind of person who gets noticed.

  Suddenly there's an electronic whining sound, and the masks of the two Avvarian Queens lean down toward me, their shiny black goggles reflecting my face.

  Ducking back, I maintain eye contact with them for a moment, before finally they stand and walk away. God knows what they wanted with me, but I doubt it was anything good. Those monsters have gained a certain reputation for body-part smuggling in recent years, and they're just one of the many reasons why responsible parents don't let their kids anywhere near this part of town. If I ever have kids, it won't be until I've gotten well away from here.

  I wipe matted hair from across my face as I duck down and crawl deeper into the crack in the building's foundations, and then I turn and shuffle backward until I feel my bare toes slipping into a hole in the wall. With a satisfied and relieved smile, I drop down into the darkness.

  Almost home.

  More Schiff vessels are passing overhead, making the walls shake, but there's also something moving deep underground, causing the broken tiles to rattle. I slip my hips through the letterbox-shaped hole in the wall and let the rest of my body slide through, then I twist around and crawl along the vent before finally pushing the grille aside and dropping head-first down onto my bed. I quickly roll off, so as to keep the sheets as dry as possible, and then I stop for a moment as I try to work out what I should do next: peel my clothes off and try to dry them on one of the vents, or just let them dry on my body. After all, if the vent doesn't do anything, I'll have to put them back on wet later, and I hate that feeling.

  Dry on my body, then.

  The Schiff vessels move on and the floor becomes still, so now the only sound comes from the market above ground. Thousands of people buying and selling, bartering and arguing, shouting, running, pushing and screaming. I'd rather be anywhere else. Good job I only had to spent eight hours up there today.

  And at least now I'm home.

  “Hey,” I mutter, getting to my feet and forcing myself to smile. Despite the pain in my thigh and the hunger in my belly, I have to keep a happy face so that Della won't get scared. I start brushing mud off my shirt; God, I remember what my mother used to say to me when I was a kid and I got this messy. After a moment I head over to the old desk in the corner and start setting out the loaf and vegetables I managed to pick up while I was at the market. I don't know why, but my hands are trembling a little. They've been doing that lately. “You okay down here?”

  I wait for a reply, before turning to her. Sitting on the other bed, my sister Della takes a moment to finish working on whatever she's drawing, and then she glances at me. I can immediately tell that something's wrong.

  “What?” I ask.

  She stares at me.

  “What?” I look down at the patch of water around my feet. “I'm dripping. I know. Don't worry, I'll keep away from you.”

  “Did you steal that food?” she asks.

  “I -” Pausing, I can't help feeling that for an eleven-year-old, she's remarkably good at making me feel bad. “It was gonna get thrown out eventually,” I tell her, which I guess is partly true. “It was all in the scrap heaps already.” That's a total lie.

  “I thought stealing was wrong.”

  “So's starving,” I tell her. “Don't worry, no-one's going to miss the stuff I took.”

  “Mum always said stealing's wrong,” she replies, looking back down at her piece of paper. “No matter what.”

  “I got us a feast,” I tell her as I head over and sit on the dusty floor next to her creaking bed. After all, if I'm going to keep these wet clothes on, I should at least try not to mess up my sister's sheets. Setting the muddied newspapers on my lap, I start unfolding them until I reveal the parcel of raw potato shavings. “They've still got the skin on,” I continue, hoping she'll be happy, “so they're extra good for you.”

  “You first,” she replies cautiously.

  “There's nothing wrong with them.”

  “I know, but I think you should eat first.”

  Scooping a handful of shavings into the palm of my hand, I hold them out for her. “Eat,” I say firmly, trying to copy Mum's tone of voice. Mum always got both of us to behave.

  Reluctantly, she leans forward and eats the shavings straight out of my hand. This is weird, I know, and messed up, but at least it works.

  “Have you slept today?” I ask.

  She shakes her head as she chews.

  “Why not?”

  She swallows. “I don't -” Coughing suddenly, she leans forward and I immediately start patting her back. I turn and reach for her inhaler, but I don't give it to her, not yet. She has so little medicine left, and I need to save it for the really bad attacks.

  “It's okay,” I tell her. “Soon we're going to get out of here, I promise. This isn't forever.” She's still coughing, so I pat her back harder. “I reckon in a month, maybe two, we'll be able to move on. There are places out there that are much nicer than this and there's nothing stopping us, not really. We'll be fine.”

  I wait as she stops coughing. I want to hug her, but I'd just get her all wet.

  “Come on,” I say with a smile, “there's no need to get all sentimental. We'll be okay so long as we stick together.” Realizing that she's scared, I put a hand on her knee, just as more Schiff vessels rumble overhead, shaking the walls again.

  “Do you promise?” she asks, her voice filled with fear. “Will we really be okay?”

  I nod, but I can tell she's not convinced.

  “Are you forgetting the ten year plan?” I continue, grabbing one of my old journals and tossing it onto her lap. “Refresh your memory. It's all worked out and we're smack-bang on course.”

  Opening the journal, she s
tarts flicking through tattered pages full of my spidery handwriting.

  “I told you the beginning would be hard,” I continue, “but I also told you we'll get somewhere good eventually, and I meant every word. That plan didn't just plop out of my brain one day, you know. I worked on it for a long time, I revised it constantly and made sure it was completely realistic. It's a good plan.”

  “And we'll be rich one day?” she asks cautiously, as if she doesn't dare believe me.

  “We'll be stinking rich,” I reply, kissing the top of her head. “You can rely on me. I swear to God, I swear to more than God... I won't let you down.” I pause for a moment, watching her face as she continues to look through the journal. Every day that we spend here is another day that I'm letting her down, but I know I can save us if I just take a little time. I want to tell her again how everything's going to be fine, but finally I remind myself that words are cheap and actions are more important. Ignoring the ache in my back, I get to my feet and head back over toward the hatch above my bed. “I'm gonna have to go out again,” I mutter. “Might as well do it while I'm still soaked. Just hold tight and I'll be back soon, I promise. The ten year plan requires a lot of leg-work and running about right now, so there's not much time for sitting here chatting. You trust me, don't you?”

  She turns to me, and finally she sticks her tongue out.

  I do the same.

  “That's good,” I add after a moment. “Hold tight. I'll be right back.”

  I don't know it at the time, but these are the last words I'll ever say to her.

  Chapter Two

  Asher

  He's coming.

  Racing between the trees, I don't dare to look over my shoulder. I focus instead on staying on my feet as I scramble down the muddy slope, half running and half falling.

  Suddenly I feel a hand trying to grab me from behind. I cry out, almost tripping, before ducking down and weaving between two bent pine trees. If I stop, I die.