Persona (The Island Book 2) Page 11

  “I've had some bad luck over the past few days,” I tell him, tensing a little in case he prods the bruise and makes it hurt more. “It'll heal. It always heals.”

  “Bad luck doesn't really cover it,” he replies. “I also saw that you were limping earlier.”

  “I was?”

  “You didn't even notice, did you?” he continues. “You're so accustomed to getting beat up and bent out of shape, you just push on through. Typical ex-soldier.”

  “I get by,” I tell him, not wanting to seem weak. My whole body is tense, due to the effort required to keep from shivering. The forest is so cold, and my fire isn't nearly strong enough to keep me warm. “I'm not the only one. Go ask anyone in town and they'll tell you they're the same. We all have little knocks and cuts, it's impossible to live in a place like this without getting hurt from time to time.” I wait for him to reply, as the fire starts crackling a little more, offering hope. “In a place like this,” I add finally, “you don't get to sit down and nurse your wounds. A fractured rib is nothing. A few cuts are nothing. You're going to have to get used to that if you -”

  Suddenly he leans forward and kisses me again, and this time I let him for a moment, unable to reject the extra heat. Finally, however, I pull away.

  “I lied earlier,” he tells me. “You don't remind me of my wife. I just said that to cover my embarrassment. You're nothing like her.”

  “I think we -”

  He kisses me yet again, and without even thinking about it I kiss him back. For a few seconds, our mouths stay locked together until finally he's the one who pulls back. This time, I almost try to start the kiss again, to get a little more heat.

  “You're shivering,” he says yet again.

  “I am not!”

  “You -” He pauses, before smiling. “Okay. Whatever.”

  “I'm not shivering,” I continue, while inching closer to the fire in a vain attempt to get warmer.

  “When was the last time you didn't feel like crap?” he asks. “I was in the war too, remember? I've been through the same things as you, even if neither of us remember them.” He pauses. “When was the last time you had even one moment when you weren't nursing some kind of pain somewhere in your body?”

  “I don't know,” I reply, trying not to panic. I should punch him for what he just did, but instead I let him pull my tunic a little more to one side so he can examine my bruised back. “I don't care, either. Maybe that stuff mattered in the old world, but right here and now it's completely irrelevant.”

  “So you have a fractured rib,” he continues, “maybe two. You were limping on your left ankle, but that's probably not much more than a sprain.” He pauses, as if he's studying me. “You have a bruised cheek, and a nasty-looking cut on your neck that seems to be healing pretty well.”

  “So?”

  “And a bruise on your back, just above the left shoulder-blade. I noticed that earlier.”

  “I really don't -”

  “And there's some discomfort in your belly, too,” he adds. “I'm going to assume that's from when Ellis and the others gave you a kicking. You're bruised all around the back here.”

  Staring at him, I try to work out why he's bothering to list all my injuries.

  “I just need to know where it's safe to touch you,” he says finally, before reaching out and putting a hand on my waist. “Is that okay? Any agonizing pain?”

  “I...” Taking a deep breath, I realize exactly what he's trying to initiate. Ninety-nine times out a hundred I'd push him away and tell him to get lost, but out here in the forest with the fire burning so feebly nearby, I want him to stay. Anything's better than sitting here alone with just the enfolding darkness for company, and I can't bring myself to turn away the chance of warmth. “No,” I say after a moment, hating myself just a little for being so weak. “No pain.”

  He pauses, before leaning closer and kissing me again. This time I reciprocate fully, even though I know I'm probably making a mistake. For the first time in hours, I don't feel the need to shiver, and no matter what my mind might think, my body can't resist the heat.

  “I don't know if I can do this,” I whisper, as he starts loosening my tunic.

  “Don't over-think it,” he replies, slipping a warm hand under the front of my tunic and reaching up to touch my left breast. As soon as I feel the extra heat, I realize I won't be able to turn him down. “You seem like someone who over-thinks everything, Asher. For once, just do what makes you feel good.”

  With that, he kisses me again, and I don't fight back as I feel him starting to pull my clothes off. I focus on reminding myself that I'm doing this purely for the warmth of another body, that it's a way to help get me through the night, but deep down I'm worried that might not be true. Deep down, I'm scared that I might actually like what happens next.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Iris

  As soon as I try to pull myself up from the freezing water, the pit's muddy wall starts to crumble. I desperately dig my fingers in deeper, but finally I feel a sharp pain in the tips as I drop back down and splash heavily into the soupy gray water at the bottom. I try to keep my head clear, but instead, I'm briefly submerged all the way, and I feel scattered bones beneath my feet and hands as I frantically get back up. When I finally manage to life my face above the water's surface, I start spitting out the soup that managed to get into my mouth.

  All around me, the air is filled with the rancid stench of wet, rotten bodies. Every time I reach out, my hands touch either muddy walls or the remains of another poor soul who ended up dying down here. Stumbling in a fit of blind panic, I feel my left hand pressing briefly against a skull, and in the process I smear rotten flesh away from the bone. Pulling back in the darkness, I turn and stumble in the other direction, only to fall and land against yet another corpse. I cry out as I pull away, and then I stop for a moment, desperately trying to ignore the panic and find a way to think straight.

  Suddenly there's a faint splashing sound nearby, as if something moved.

  Breathless and exhausted, I immediately start climbing again. The top of the pit is only about fifteen or twenty feet above me, and I'm convinced I can get out of here if I just focus. Hearing a groan over my shoulder, I turn and see that one of the other people down here is trying to move toward me. The gray-green flesh is sloughing off his bones and it's hard to believe he's still alive, but after a moment he tilts forward and splashes face-first into the moonlit water. I stare at the back of his head as he floats slowly toward me, and finally I realize that he lacks the strength to get up again. There are no bubbles in the water, and it's pretty clear after just a few seconds that he's dead. Nevertheless, as he drifts closer, I reach out with my left foot and give him a gentle kick, sending him back over toward the far wall.

  Nearby, an almost-submerged woman lets out a slow, pained groan. Her eyes are fixed on me, but she doesn't seem to have the strength to move at all.

  “Help,” she whispers, barely managing to open her ravaged mouth. Scraps of flesh are hanging down from her rotten lips, exposing her few remaining teeth. “Help me...”

  Staring at her, I quickly realize that even though there's nothing I can do, I still have to try.

  “Please,” she continues. “Get me... out of here...”

  Wading through the water, I try to work out where I can take hold of her. Finally, figuring that I have no better options, I put my hands under her arms, hoping to at least lift her out of the water.

  “Please,” she gasps, “just...”

  I start lifting her up, but she immediately lets out a groan of pain. A moment later I hear several small splashes, and in the moonlight I'm just about able to see the lower part of her chest falling apart, dropping its rotten remains into the water.

  “Help me,” the woman whispers, “please...”

  I try to adjust my grip on her arms, but I'm too late and suddenly her entire left shoulder comes loose, slipping from my hand and crashing down into the water. There's b
arely any blood, since most of her body has turned to pulp, but she lets out a final, pained groan as the organs from her belly and chest splash down into the soup, along with her right arm, until I'm holding little more than her spine, a few ribs and her head. For a moment, all I can do is stare at the horrific scene, but then I quickly drop what's left of the woman. When her head hits the water, it quickly sinks from view and I wade back, desperate to get away.

  After a moment I hear another groan from nearby, and I turn to see a younger woman with just her face and part of her neck visible above the water-line. She gasps, as if she's trying to say something, but it's clear that these people are beyond help.

  Turning, I start climbing again. This time I dig my fingers deeper into the mud, although I quickly notice that my last effort led to two of my fingernails being torn away. Still, I take a moment to steady myself and then I start hauling myself up, pushing through the agony in my arms. My fingers start slipping, but I force them deeper into the mud and continue to climb, finally getting further than before. Somewhere deep in the mud, I feel the tangled end of a tree root, so I grab on tight and use it as an anchor to pull myself up higher. Letting out a grunt of pain, I keep going until I feel my right hand reaching the top of the pit, and then -

  Suddenly I feel a sharp pain across my knuckles. Instinctively I pull my hand away, and I quickly tumble back down the muddy wall. I manage to grab hold at the last moment, so that I don't crash into the water and get completely submerged, but when I look at my hand I see that something sliced across the flesh, and a moment later I hear someone laughing high above. Even before I look up, I know that it's Walter, and there's a knife in his left hand.

  “You can't get out,” he tells me, as if he finds my efforts amusing. “Just accept your fate as a contributor to the great soup that I'm making. You know, it's perfectly safe to drink if it's boiled first, so you needn't worry about your little taste earlier. When it's not boiled, though, and it's brought up and treated with some extra ingredients and a little sunlight for a few days... Well, let's just say that there's a deadly sickness that has a tendency to spread across the island, and the sickness is incubated right here in this pit. Every so often, a new sample is prepared and introduced to another growing community. It doesn't spread fast, and only five or ten per cent of people actually become ill, but those who do...”

  He starts chuckling.

  “Well, let's just say that they don't last long after the symptoms start to show!”

  Again he laughs, as if he's genuinely proud of what he's created.

  “It's a miracle of life, isn't it?” he continues. “When it's cold, the soup makes people ill, but when it's warm it provides nourishment and vitality. We live in such a strange world, one that constantly surprises. Don't worry, though. Only a fraction of the people exposed to the sickness ever fall ill. That's the whole point. It's supposed to weaken communities, not kill them off too easily. Harold wouldn't like it if they dropped like flies.”

  Reaching up, I try yet again to climb out of the pit, but I feel as if I might be about to faint. I lean against the wall for a moment, trying to get my breath back. After a few seconds, however, the smell of soupy human flesh starts to fill my nostrils and I feel my stomach twisting, as if I'm about to throw up.

  “I have to go and check on my other friends,” Walter tells me, “but I hope you're not going to try climbing out again, young lady. I can assure you that I've left a nasty little surprise up here, so if you're smart, you'll just stay down there in the pit and wait for the end to come. Make your peace with whatever god you believe in, and reflect upon your life a little. I was following you from the moment you left Steadfall. My friends and I know all about that little town, and I promise you it won't last much longer. They're already there, destroying it from the inside, just the way they destroyed all the others. We simply won't tolerate any attempts to organize a community on the island. Whenever anyone tries, we step in and make sure that it fails. Miserably.”

  With that, he turns and walks away. I can hear him tramping across the forest floor, his footsteps receding into the distance, and after a moment I look up at the top of the pit and realize that I can just about make out the stars high above. I have to find a way out of here, but my arms feel as if they're on fire after all the attempts I've made to climb out. For a moment, it occurs to me that I could just stay down here and let the inevitable happen. After all, I've managed to survive for five years on the island, which is longer than most people. Is there really anything to live for in such a miserable place? For just a few seconds, the will to live seems to seep out of me, leaking into the soup liquid all around.

  “You have to get back to Steadfall,” Della whispers in the growing darkness. “There might still be time to warn Asher and the others.”

  “They're probably all dead by now,” I imagine myself replying.

  “There's still a chance, though,” she points out. “After the way you betrayed Bran and the others five years ago, don't you think you should try to do the right thing for once? This might be a way for you to set things right.”

  I pause for a moment, trying to find the strength to agree with her. All I can feel, however, is the cold soup lapping at my waist, soaking through the fabric of my tunic to chill my flesh.

  “Or are you just a coward?” Della's voice continues, sounding further away now. “I always thought you were a better person than that, Iris. I always looked up to you as my big, tough sister. Was I wrong?”

  Even though I feel as if I can't possibly climb again, I know deep down that I have to keep trying. Taking a deep breath, I try to imagine what kind of 'nasty little surprise' Walter might have left up at the top of the pit, but I tell myself that he might just have been trying to scare me. Hearing a faint gurgling sound from nearby, I turn just in time to see the woman in the far corner sinking beneath the water's surface, joining the other bodies that are slowly decomposing and adding their remains to the soup. Realizing that I'm not ready to join them yet, and that I have to try one more time to warn Asher, I dig my fingers into the muddy wall and staring climbing yet again.

  The pain in my arms is excruciating, and I feel several times as if I'm about to fall. Somehow, though, I manage to keep going until finally I'm almost at the top. I pause for a moment, trying to summon the energy I need to haul myself over the edge, and then I reach up with my left hand and grab the top of the pit.

  I let out a cry of pain as my fingers slice down onto a set of metal spikes that have been left in the grass at the top. This time, when I try to pull my hand back, I find that the spikes are too deeply embedded in the flesh, which at least means that I can't fall back down.

  Telling myself that I need to be strong, I realize that I can use the spikes to my advantage. Reaching up with my right hand, I slowly force it down against the spikes, letting the metal dig through my flesh so that at least I'm no longer in danger of falling. Now that I've impaled myself up here, I just have to work out how I'm going to find the strength to haul myself up and over the edge to freedom, because right now – hanging here with my soaking wet tunic weighing me down – I feel as if I can't possibly move another inch.

  “You're going to die like this,” Della's voice whispers from down in the pit. “You're not strong enough to get out.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Asher

  He moves slowly down my body, kissing my bare flesh and avoiding all the cuts and bruises. No matter how much I tell myself that this is a mistake, I can't bring myself to push his warmth away. My mind is screaming for me to stop, but my body craves the warmth and refuses to let go.

  Chapter Thirty

  Iris

  Suddenly I realize I can hear Walter heading back this way. His feet are trampling through the dark undergrowth and he's whistling too. He thinks he's in complete control and he might be right, but I've got one final chance to get out of here. Still hanging at the top of the pit, shivering in my soup-soaked tunic and with my hands impaled
on the metal spikes, I know that failure now will mean death down there in the pit far below.

  This is it.

  Life or death.

  “What have we got here?” Walter says suddenly, as I hear his footsteps getting closer. “Don't tell me... Can it be true?”

  Looking up, I watch as his silhouette appears above me. There's just enough moonlight for me to be able to see the delight in his eyes, as if he genuinely enjoys the fact that I'm fighting back.

  “Well,” he continues, “I'm impressed. Truly, genuinely impressed. You might not have very much longer left in this world, my dear, but at least you've put up a good fight. Better than anyone else who's ended up down there, that's for sure. I'm almost tempted to let you go, but of course that isn't possible. You're very admirable, though. Very admirable indeed.”

  I wait, hanging in darkness, to see how he'll free me from the spikes. If he simply cuts my hands off, I'll have no chance, but if he actually bothers to slip the hooks out of my flesh, I might be able to do something.

  “Let's see,” he mutters after a moment, and I feel him taking hold of my right wrist. Sure enough, he starts slowly lifting it up, and the pain is immense as he slides my hand free of the spikes. As soon as he turns his attention to my left hand, I use my right to grip the pit's muddy edge. My fingers are already slipping through the cold mud and I know I won't be able to stay up here for long, but I try to summon every last ounce of strength as I feel Walter starting to lift my left hand free from the spikes.