He steps past me and stops in the doorway for a moment, looking out at the dark town, before glancing back at me.
“Of course now we wipe the minds of soldiers after they come back. Not only to hide the identity of our enemy, but also to spare those brave men and women the horror that their memories will bring. And yet…” He pauses, and for the first time there seems to be a trace of fear in his eyes. “And yet there’s a gap where the memories should be,” he continues. “I don’t remember events from the war, but I remember sensations. I remember being terrified, I remember being absolutely certain I was going to die. I remember sorrow. I remember loss and grief. I remember fear beyond anything you can imagine. I remember a crippling sense of hopelessness. All of those feelings and more are in my soul, but they’re not anchored to any specific memories. They’re just in me, rattling around.”
“Asher never talks about the war,” I try to tell him, mouthing the words as carefully as I can manage.
“Asher feels the same way, I’m sure,” he replies. “The only difference between me and her is that whereas I embrace the chaos I feel, she tries to push it away. She tries to deny who and what she is, while I try to dig deeper and deeper into myself so that I might tear the truth out. But Asher still is a soldier, she still has all those instincts, and that’s how I know with absolute certainty that Ben and Leanne weren’t able to kill her. She’s like me, she’s a survivor, and she has passed every test I’ve set before her. I haven’t been entirely honest about my reasons for coming to the island, Iris. You see, I—”
He turns to me, and then he frowns.
“The person who cut your tongue out,” he continues. “Did you gain revenge?”
Staring at him, I see that there’s a kind of anger in his eyes now.
“Revenge is one of the most vital of all human emotions,” he adds. “When someone does something to you, it’s natural to want to make them pay. Those who preach forgiveness are just… self-deceiving fools. There are no lengths to which I would not go, in my pursuit of those who have wronged me. Do you not feel the same?”
“She’s dead,” I try to mouth to him, hoping he’ll understand.
“Never mind,” he mutters. “I suppose I wanted to talk to you, because it’s the closest thing right now to talking to Asher. You know her better than anyone else in this miserable town, don’t you?”
He pauses, and I swear I can see a hint of admiration in his gaze as he stares at the fire. If I didn’t know better, I’d start to wonder whether he really wants to kill Asher or whether, instead, he wants to somehow get her on his side. At the same time, it’s hard to believe that he could feel that way after just a few days here at Steadfall.
“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.
Chapter Forty-one
“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.”