Amy Cross - Persona

“I need to be alone,” he says finally, clearly troubled by something. “Go. I shouldn’t have…”

His voice trails off, but I quickly hurry past him and head out into the darkness. I half expect Harold to call me back, but when I look over my shoulder I see that he’s still in the doorway, still staring down at the fire. For a man who seems to have taken control of Steadfall so easily, a short conversation about Asher appears to have brought a remarkable change. Maybe it’s just because they both fought in the war, but I can’t shake the feeling that his interest in her is somehow deeper and more fundamental.

“You look exhausted,” Olivia says suddenly, coming over and putting a hand on my arm. “You should sleep.”

Turning to her as she guides me across the clearing, I see that she’s smiling. How can she be so calm, after everything that’s happening here?

“There’s a sickness here in the camp,” she explains, as she leads me to one of the other huts. “We’ve started to isolate people who’ve been affected. There are ten who are ill right now, plus Mary and Emma who died. I think we’re starting to get on top of it, though. Harold has put some new rules in place, and hopefully the disease, whatever it is, won’t spread to anyone else. Things were looking bad for a while, but now—”

Suddenly she coughs, and she immediately looks at her hands, as if she’s checking for blood. Seeing none, however, she forces another smile.

“It’s nothing,” she tells me, swallowing hard. “Iris, I know a lot must seem to have changed while you were away, but sometimes change is necessary. Things just weren’t working out with Asher, but it’s not our fault that she reacted so badly in the end. Honestly, if Harold hadn’t showed up to take the lead, I think the whole of Steadfall would have collapsed. We must simply mourn Asher and move on.” Stopping as we reach the entrance to one of the huts, she turns and kisses my forehead. “Now go to sleep, like Harold said. He has our best interests at heart, and tomorrow’s the start of a new dawn.”

I watch as she walks away across the dark clearing, and I can’t help feeling as if she – like everyone else here – has lost her mind. Harold seems to have them all on his side, as if they don’t suspect a thing, and it’s clear that I need to be smart if I’m going to make the others see the truth. Turning and looking out toward the dark forest, however, I can’t shake the feeling that despite everything I heard tonight, Asher is still out there somewhere. She wouldn’t let herself get dragged out of her own town and killed. Harold’s right. She’s way too smart for that.

Glancing back across the clearing, I can just about see Harold, still standing in a distant doorway and staring at the fire. Whatever he’s planning, I need to find a way to get rid of him fast. First, though, I need to work out how to find Asher.

“Nearly there!” Deckard calls back to me as we continue to wriggle through the narrow gap. “I can feel fresh air on my face!”

I open my mouth to ask if he’s sure, but suddenly I realize that the darkness up ahead seems a little fuzzier somehow. Twisting around and pulling myself through the next gap, I hear Deckard gasping as his silhouette slips out of view, and then I tumble after him, finally landing on the cold, wet grass. Rolling onto my back, I look up and see to my astonishment that we made it out.

Above, a blanket of stars fills the night sky.

“There,” Deckard grunts, “did you… Did you ever really doubt me?”

Turning, I’m shocked to see the extent of his injuries. A heavy black wound has crushed part of his chest, just below the left side of his collarbone, with blood glistening in the moonlight. There’s another wound a little further up, on the side of his neck, with more blood dribbling down.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Me? I’m fine, but what about—”

“Are you sure?”

Looking down at my chest, I realize that somehow, almost miraculously, I made it out with no broken bones or blast wounds. Scratches, sure, and more aches to add to the list, but I’m basically fine. Turning to Deckard again, however, I can’t shake the nagging fear that his injuries are far more serious.

“We have to get you fixed up,” I tell him.

“Later.”

“Deckard—”

“There’s no time,” he says firmly, and it’s clear that although he knows I’m right, he’s not going to stop to treat his injuries. “Anyway, what would you fix me up with ?” He tries to move, but instead he lets out a gasp of pain as he slumps back against the grass. “The plan worked. That’s the main thing.”

“Seriously?” I reply. “In what possible way was that your plan?”

“They think we’re dead, don’t they?” he replies, forcing a faint smile even though his eyes are filled with fear. “Right about now, Ben and Leanne will be getting back to Steadfall and telling Harold that they saw us die. More importantly, that they saw you die. He’ll be bolder now that he thinks you’re gone, he’ll start taking risks, and that’s when he’ll start to become vulnerable. We only get one chance to take him down, but that’s one more chance than we had earlier.”

“You’re bleeding,” I tell him, reaching out to touch the wound on his chest before thinking better of it. I don’t even know where to begin when it comes to dealing with an injury on this scale.

“They have guns and grenades,” he replies, sounding a little weaker than before, “and probably more besides. I’m pretty sure they had some kind of night-vision back there, otherwise they never would’ve been so accurate with their weapons. One thing we can count on, Asher, is that they’re definitely not following the rules of the island. They were sent here to do a job, and they’ll go to any lengths to get it finished. We’re just lucky Harold’s a psychopath, or the whole town would be dead by now.”

“How do we fight back?” I ask. “We only have knives and rocks. It’s like a pair of prehistoric cavemen going up against modern soldiers.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, starting to laugh before the pain kicks in again. He winces and tries to sit up, but after a moment he has to settle back down. “I’m not going to be very mobile right now,” he continues, “but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. Help me up.”

I shake my head. “You need to rest and—”

“Fine!” he hisses, pushing me away. “I’ll help myself up!”

He lets out a grunt as he tries to get to his feet, and finally I put an arm around him, figuring that I have no option but to help. As he leans against the rock-face, however, I suddenly feel a little dizzy.

“Asher,” a voice whispers, “don’t leave me.”

I freeze, instantly recognizing that voice.

“Mads?” I whisper, turning and looking across the moonlit patch of grass. There’s no sign of her, of course, but at the same time I feel as if a long-forgotten memory is somehow leeching back into my mind. I was with Mads when she died. I’d forgotten until now, but she was hurt, she was really hurt, and there was blood all over—

“Asher?” Deckard says suddenly.

Turning to him, I feel a shiver pass through my chest.

“Are you okay there?” he asks. “Looked like you were zoning out for a moment.”

“I’m fine,” I reply, not wanting to admit that I lost my focus. There’ll be time for memories later. “We don’t have long, though.” I glance around one more time, but there’s definitely no sign of Mads. For some reason that I still don’t quite understand, my memory seems to have been triggered by something, and now thoughts of the war are slipping back to me piece by piece. “Carly said ten people were sick now,” I continue, turning back to Deckard as I once again tell myself to focus on what’s happening right now. For a moment, however, I can’t help thinking about Carly’s death. “They’re cowards,” I mutter, feeling a flash of anger. “They shot her in the back.”