“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
“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 whether 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.”