Persona (The Island Book 2) Page 4

  “Like the community managers who lecture people about the war.”

  “I'm nothing like that,” I reply. “Like I said earlier, you're free to leave if you don't like how we run this town.”

  He mutters something under his breath. Just as I'm about to ask if he's got a problem with me, however, I notice that Harold has wandered out of the hut. I head over to the door and look out, only to see that he's helping one of the women as she tries to clean some tunics. To my surprise, he actually seems to know what he's doing, and I watch as he takes the soaked tunic.

  “If you do it like this,” he explains to her, turning the bowl of stones around, “and go slower, you'll get much more of the dirt out. Also, if you add some grass to the water, the enzymes should improve the overall reach.” He hesitates when he notices that I'm watching him. “I'm sorry,” he says after a moment. “I didn't mean to interfere, I just thought I could help a little. I was a doctor before I came to the island, and I...” He pauses. “Well, I just saw an opportunity to improve something. I hope I didn't step on any toes.”

  “That's great,” I reply, forcing a smile. “It's exactly what we need.”

  He goes back to helping the woman, and I watch for a few seconds longer before turning to see that Deckard is explaining some more basics of the town to Ben and Leanne. Ben seems edgy and irritable, while Leanne is like a timid little mouse, shivering with fear. Glancing back over at Harold, however, I can't help feeling that he might be far more useful. He seems intense, but he's clearly smart, and I watch for a few seconds as he helps another woman who's struggling to skin a rabbit. Pretty quickly, he shows her a new technique that she seems to already be picking up and -

  Suddenly a scream rings out nearby. A ragged, agonized cry of pain from the forest.

  Chapter Six

  Iris

  “And another thing,” Della continues, her voice echoing through my head, “you don't even know what you'll do if you find this place. Are you going to say hi to these people? Are you going to tell them about Steadfall? That might not be a good idea. They might not be so friendly.”

  “I'll decide when I get there,” I reply, before realizing that I've fallen into the same old trap again. Every time I lose my focus, I end up talking to my dead sister. This is something that has been happening more and more lately, and I need to get my thoughts under control.

  Taking a pause next to a tree, I try to refocus my mind. I can feel Della's voice nagging at the edge of my consciousness, wanting to burst back in so we can continue the conversation, but I need to keep her out at all costs. It's one thing to chat away to your dead sister all day whenever you think she might be useful, but it's another thing entirely if you can't stop hearing her voice. I started talking to her back at Steadfall because she was the only person who could hear my replies, but now I think I've taken the whole thing too far.

  Control

  I need to stay sane.

  Once I've calmed my thoughts, I start walking again. I only manage a couple of paces, however, before suddenly I realize that there's a length of wood up ahead, tied between two trees to form some kind of crude gate. I glance around to make sure that there's no-one nearby, and then I take the knife from my belt before making my way forward cautiously. By the time I reach the gate, I can see that the wood is black and charred, as if it was burned at some point, and a little further ahead there are more structures. With a creeping sense of anticipation, I start to realize that after six months of walking and searching, and imagining conversations with Della over and over again, I've finally found what I've been looking for.

  There is another town on the island.

  “See?” I imagine myself telling Della, unable to stifle a sense of pride. “I was right.”

  Chapter Seven

  Asher

  “What are you doing?” I shout, racing through the forest toward the group of men up ahead. “What's wrong?”

  As soon as I get to them, I see a beaten and bloodied figure cowering on the floor. Before I can say anything, one of the men steps closer and kicks the figure hard in the back of the head, sending him slumping across the leaf-strewn forest floor. I'm pretty sure I heard a cracking sound from somewhere in the man's body, and I wince as soon as I spot a broken and bloodied piece of bone poking out from just above his ankle.

  “Didn't take him long to try his luck again,” says Ellis, one of the gathered men. “We all told you he'd come back to steal from us. Looks like he fancied some rabbits.”

  Spotting a couple of skinned rabbit carcasses nearby, I make my way around the group of men until I'm better able to see Harry Shaw shivering naked on the floor. Already, he looks to have been beaten half to death, with one side of his chest having been attacked so savagely that several broken ribs are poking out. He has his arms up to protect his head, and he's shivering and sobbing as he waits for the next blow. I can't make out many of the words that are tumbling from his mouth, but it's clear he's once again begging for mercy.

  “You told us we can kill him if he steals again,” Ellis reminds me, his voice firm and unbending. “You said it yourself just a few hours ago, Asher. That was the sentence you gave him.”

  He stamps his foot down against Harry's already-broken ankle. The old man lets out an agonized cry of pain, only stopping when I push Ellis way from him.

  One of the other men steps closer and kicks Harry hard in the guts.

  Hearing movement nearby, I turn to see that half a dozen people have come from the town to watch. Deckard is among them, as is Ben, while Harold is hanging back a little as if he's curious but doesn't want to get too close. As Harry screams again, I turn to see his ravaged body being hauled up and held in position, as one of the other men steps closer to the old man and grins.

  “Don't torture him,” I say firmly.

  “You said we can kill him!” he sneers. “Those were your exact words.”

  “I didn't say you can drag it out like this,” I reply, forcing my way past him. My mind is racing but, before I can work out what to do, Deckard pushes through. I watch in horror as he holds a knife up to Harry's throat and slices through with one quick, clean motion. Blood bursts from the poor man's mouth and his eyes widen with shock, but he quickly drops to the forest floor. After hitting the ground, he clutches his throat and writhes in pain, gasping for air.

  “We weren't finished,” Ellis tells Deckard, evidently annoyed at having had his victim snatched away.

  “Yes,” Deckard says firmly, turning to him, “you were. Asher said to kill Harry if he stole again, but that doesn't mean you can turn into animals.”

  On the ground, Harry has fallen still. His dead eyes are staring at me.

  Ellis opens his mouth to reply, but finally he backs down. Turning to walk away, he nevertheless gives Harry's corpse a final kick. “Should've happened a long time ago,” he mutters darkly, casting a scornful glance toward me. “At least someone had the guts.”

  “Asher would've just let Harry go again,” a voice mutters from nearby. “She's too soft.”

  As the crowd stares to disperse, heading back toward the town, I turn and see Harold watching me with a frown. After a couple of seconds he turns and follows the others, leaving me with just Harry's corpse and, a little further away, Deckard. For a moment, I can't help watching as blood drips from his knife.

  “It had to be done,” Deckard says firmly. “I thought you'd be grateful. At least he didn't get tortured and beaten for hours first.”

  “I was hoping there'd be another way,” I tell him.

  “This won't be the last time,” he replies. “As Steadfall gets bigger, it becomes more of a target. We have to be ready to defend ourselves.”

  “So what do you want to do?” I ask. “Cut Harry's head off and stick it on a pole, to warn people away? Should we just give up and become savages?”

  “I want to know that when the next threat arrives, you'll be able to do what it takes.” He stares at me for a moment, as if he's trying to work out w
hether I have what it takes. “I'm telling you, Asher, it won't always be scrawny old men we're up against. One day we're going to attract some serious attention, and when that -”

  “I don't need a lecture,” I reply, interrupting him as I reach down and grab Harry's hands. “I know you're right.”

  “Where are you going with that?”

  “I'm going to bury him.”

  “Why? It's a complete waste of time and energy.”

  “We bury our dead,” I say firmly. “We're not animals, despite what some people might think.” I start to drag Harry away, heading toward the spot we've been using as a makeshift cemetery, but I can tell that Deckard is still watching me. The displeasure and contempt is almost oozing from his soul.

  “I saw you kill Vargas once,” he calls out to me. “That was why I decided to stick around. I was impressed, I figured you were tough! What changed?”

  “Nothing changed,” I mutter under my breath. “I just don't enjoy killing.”

  “The people of Steadfall aren't happy,” he adds. “They're starting to doubt you. I'm on your side for now, but you can't show weakness. You have to make them see that you're strong! You have to -”

  “I know what you want!” I shout suddenly, unable to hold myself back as I turn to him. “You want to push me out and take over! You want to run Steadfall yourself! You think I'm losing control!”

  “If I thought that,” he says calmly, “I'd have done something about it by now. Asher, I'm trying to -”

  “Make your move, then,” I continue, almost trembling with rage. Letting go of Harry's hands, I step toward Deckard. “If you want to get rid of me, now's your chance. Don't be a coward, don't go around plotting behind my back. I'm right here.”

  I wait, but he simply watches me with a slight frown.

  “Do it,” I say firmly.

  “Asher -”

  “Do it!” I shout, taking another step toward him while holding my hands out to make myself an easier target. “Let's get this over with, Deckard. Don't be a coward!”

  “I'm not going to fight you, Asher,” he replies, still maintaining that infuriating sense of calm that nothing ever seems to puncture. “I'm trying to help you. I believe in this town, and I believe you have every right to run it however you see fit. If I felt I couldn't live under your rules anymore, I wouldn't try to kill you. I'd leave.”

  I pause for a moment, but it's clear that he has no intention of making his move right now.

  “I have to get on with burying Harry,” I mutter, turning and grabbing the old man's arms.

  “Do you need help?”

  Ignoring him, I continue to drag Harry away from the town. I know he's right, I know the people of Steadfall need a leader who can inspire them. I just don't think that I can be that leader. When I get to the next ridge, I glance back the way I came and see that Deckard is already walking toward town, and suddenly it strikes me that I might have been wrong about him. Somehow I've become a simmering ball of defensive anger, and I need to calm down before I explode.

  Once I reach the makeshift cemetery, I start digging a grave for Harry. At least when I'm working, I have less time to over-think things.

  Chapter Eight

  Iris

  Standing in the center of the clearing, I look around and see the horrific truth.

  Ruins.

  This town is nothing but ruins.

  There were clearly several wooden structures here once, not entirely dissimilar to the huts that Asher and the others built at Steadfall. All that's left of them, however, are some charred beams loosely tied together. As I make my way over to take a closer look at one of the structures, I feel something loose and dry against my bare feet, and I look down to see that there's ash everywhere. A few burned knives have been left scattered around as well, along with crude wooden pots and bowls. Reaching the nearest structure, I put a hand on the wall and give it a gentle push. It's still fairly sturdy, despite the inferno that must have raged at some point.

  “What happened here?” Della asks. “It must have been something bad, mustn't it?”

  Judging by the size and sheer number of these old wooden buildings, I'm certain this must be the town that I heard about. For the past couple of years, new arrivals at Steadfall have occasionally mentioned an unnamed town out here near the foot of the mountain, a town that sounded even larger and more successful than the settlement that Asher had built. Asher and Deckard told me the stories couldn't be true, but over time I began to think that there had to be some truth to what we were hearing. When I set out to locate that town, I expected to find either a thriving community or nothing at all. It never occurred to me that I might discover, instead, that the town had been destroyed.

  Who would do such a terrible thing? And how?

  “I don't like this,” Della's voice whispers. “Turn around, Iris.”

  Stepping around the wooden structure, I lean through what's left of the doorway, figuring that -

  I freeze as soon as I see them.

  Huddled inside on the floor with a series of thick ropes tied around them, there are several dead bodies. Most of them have been burned so badly, there's nothing left but their bones, although a few have scraps of flesh still clinging to their skeletal faces and one even has some singed hair that somehow survived. As I take a cautious step forward, I start counting the skulls, and I realize that there are at least fifteen corpses here. While taking care not to get too close, I crouch down and take a closer look at one of the bodies, and for a moment I stare into the empty, hollow sockets of its skull. Its mouth is hanging slightly open, and I can't help wondering how these people ended up being tied together like this.

  “This'll be you one day,” Della says.

  She's right.

  Ever since I arrived on the island, I've known that there's a brutal death waiting for me. I doubt anyone ever gets to live out a peaceful life here. Whether it's Tash or the old man, everyone dies in agony.

  Just like these people.

  One day it'll be my turn.

  Spotting some scraps of wood in the corner, I make my way over and see that a series of deep scratches have been carved through the surface of each piece. When I pick one up and take a closer look, however, I realize that the scratches seem to have been designed to obscure some text that had earlier been carved into the same wood. It's hard to make out too much, but after a moment I'm able to make out a few consecutive words:

  BUILT AFTER ONE YEAR

  A little further on, I find another legible passage:

  DECIDED ON A NAME

  Turning the piece of wood, I see more scratches on the back, along with another section that I can just about read:

  TO GROW, WE DECIDED TO

  After reading a few more scattered sections on the pieces of wood, I start to realize that I've found some kind of journal or record, as if the people of this town were taking care to note down their history. Whoever destroyed the place, meanwhile, seems to have gone to great lengths to obliterate everything that was written. It would have been easy to just burn the pieces of wood, of course, but instead they seem to have been broken up and scratched, which strikes me as being kind of dramatic. My guess is that the text was destroyed in front of the people before they were burned, as some kind of demonstration that they were being wiped from history.

  It's almost as if someone enjoyed destroying this town.

  After gathering the pieces of wood up, I step back out of the burned hut and take a moment to collect my thoughts. I've seen plenty of death since I arrived on the island, of course, but this is the first time I've seen death that seems so organized. It's clear that these people were rounded up and tied together, and then the hut was burned with them inside. That's not the usual chaos of the island, it's something more clinical, something that reminds me of the world I thought I'd left behind. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the nearby forest for a moment, but there's still no sign of anyone being close and, besides, it's clear that the fire happened a wh
ile ago. The pieces of wood in my hands might very well be all that's left of this town and its people. I turn and look back into the hut, and for a moment I try to imagine the screams of those people as they were burned to death.

  There was a town here, but someone came along and burned it to the ground. Whoever's responsible, they must still be on the island somewhere.

  Chapter Nine

  Asher

  “You're in trouble.”

  As I make my way through the center of town a short while later, I turn and find to my surprise that Harold is suddenly walking alongside me. He seemed so remote and distant earlier, so it's a surprise to find that he suddenly wants to talk.

  “I am?” I ask cautiously.

  “It doesn't take a genius to understand what's going on here,” he continues, keeping his voice low so that we won't be overheard. “You're in over your head. This Steadfall settlement was never supposed to get so big, but people have gravitated toward it because they're scared of the forest. The whole thing is getting out of control and you're struggling to maintain order. Sooner or later -”

  “Fine,” I reply, interrupting him, “those are all valid points, but I really don't need you to spell it all out to me. You're new here, you don't understand everything that's been going on.” We walk on for a moment, and I'm suddenly not so glad that he's following me. “Let me guess. You and your friends don't like the way I run things around here. You agree with Ben that there should be a democracy.”

  “People are talking about overthrowing you.”

  “I'm sure they are, but there's always -”

  “No,” he adds, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to turn to him, “I don't mean in general. I mean specific people are talking about a plan to push you out and take control of your town. I've heard them.”

  I open my mouth to tell him to go to hell, but the word catch in my throat. I've known for a while now that whispers are spreading, but it's still a shock to have that fact so boldly confirmed.