Chapter 2
“I can’t stress this strongly enough: never break your cover. You’ll see terrible things and want to stop them, but your value to the cause lies in being a long-term, deep-cover agent.” -Decoded message from ILF handler Hiro Tanaka to ILF undercover operative Flint
Six years ago
Briar
The ferry finally lurches away from the dock in slow motion, but at least we’re moving.
I’ve been waiting for this moment since sunrise. For the entire past week, actually. My summer internship through my school is on a small, rugged island off the coast of Washington with no electricity, running water, or cell service.
I might as well be on the moon. This is a perfect location for several years-long research projects university faculty members are conducting, but it’s the worst possible place to be when shit’s hitting the fan on the mainland and I’m worried about my family.
“Are you hanging in there?”
Alden Cosgove, the professor leading the internship, approaches and wraps a hand around the rusty guardrail I’m standing in front of. His bushy gray brows are knitted together in concern.
I nod slightly, my shoulders sinking with a sigh. It’s been seven agonizing days and nights since we last went ashore and he got a message through the university’s intranet that was relayed through a friend of my mom’s.
Tell Briar to stay where she is, no matter what’s happening, and that we love her and we’ll always be with her.
I thought I was going to throw up when my professor passed me his phone so I could read the message. The terror I felt was bone deep, like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I was already worried because it was unusual that no texts or phone messages popped up on my phone when we reached the shore and reconnected to the internet. The first four weeks of my internship, I had messages waiting from my parents and Mae at least once every day I’d been out of touch.
Mom was always her sunny self, telling me she hoped I was learning a lot and wearing sunscreen. Dad kept me apprised on the score of every Mariners game I’d missed that week. Mae was Mae—she’d leave long voicemails about random things like her new favorite coffee order.
That’s us, though. We’ve always been a tight-knit family.
I placed calls to all three of them immediately, but got no response.
Same with texts. I tried everyone I could think of who might be able to reach them, eventually calling the police in my hometown and asking if they could check on my parents.
We’re only responding to emergencies due to the spread of the virus.
The knot that formed in my stomach was like a boulder.
I spent all our time on shore trying to reach someone—anyone—who might know more.
Other students and professors went to the tiny pub and general store in the small town, and by the time we all got back to the boat and traded information, we knew the world was on the cusp of something terrible.
We’re all science majors, so hearing things about the virus like airborne and highly communicable set us all on edge.
It was two non-scientific words that brought most of us to tears, though—martial law.
The pub wasn’t serving food, but was selling water for exorbitant prices, and the general store was boarded up and guarded by people with machine guns.
It’s been a week since then. I wanted to set out for home immediately when I got the message from my mom, but Professor Cosgrove begged me to listen to my parents and return to the island with the group.
I trust my parents, so I went. It’s been the longest, most hellish week of my life.
The hour and twenty minutes it takes us to reach the mainland feels like an eternity. The small ferry stays docked at our island in case we have an emergency, so we haven’t communicated with anyone in the past week.
Around me, other students shoulder their backpacks and prepare to get off the ferry. But I close my eyes, denying reality for a couple more precious seconds.
“What the hell?” someone mutters from nearby.
I should know who said it, but my head’s swimming, the world a fog as people around me react to what’s happening.
“I always have internet access here,” someone says. “Do you guys have it?”
I wanted to hope for the best when my phone didn’t connect to the internet like usual. An outage, maybe, unique to one cellular provider. But deep down, I knew. My mom pretty much told me in her message a week ago.
Stay where you are, no matter what’s happening. That means nationwide—if not global—catastrophe. The virus I heard about on my call to the police department a week ago has to be the catalyst.
The rapid spread of a new virus means a few things for sure: gridlock in supply chains, hospitals overwhelmed, panic buying of essentials, and often an economic stall.
That’s a best-case scenario, and the lack of cell service makes me suspect this isn’t one.
“What should we do?” Walt, a fellow student, asks Professor Cosgrove.
Cosgrove pushes his glasses up on his nose and clears his throat. His expression tells me he doesn’t really know, same as the rest of us.
“We stay together,” he pronounces. “We’ll go check the pub and general store.”
Greta, the student I share a tent with on the island, scoffs. “They had guns last time. And we have nothing. I have a backpack with dirty laundry and some cash. That’s it.”
There’s a murmur of agreement.
How many times did I shake my head with doubt when my dad gathered the family at our kitchen table and talked to us about emergency plans? While I was a typical teenager focused on social media, skincare, and boys, he was planning for every disaster that could befall us.
Global pandemic was on the list. If I’m overreacting and this isn’t a worldwide pandemic and my parents are actually okay, I’ll weep with relief.
I don’t think so, though.
“I have a gun.” I shrug off the army-green canvas backpack that was my dad’s.
Cosgrove gapes at me. “A gun?”
I unzip a side pocket on the bag and take out small, folding scissors. Everyone watches as I set my bag on the ground, squatting down.
I hope to hell you never need this, Briar. But I need to know you have it, just in case.
I cut through the thick fabric of a pocket inside the bag that’s sewn completely closed. The scissors aren’t made for such heavy-duty work, so it takes me a solid minute to free the pistol concealed inside.
Sun glints off the silver barrel as I pull it out, several people gasping.
“What the fuck,” someone mutters.
“Is that thing loaded?” Greta asks.
“Not yet.”
I use the scissors to cut into another pocket, where my dad put ammunition. When I remove it and start loading the gun, Cosgrove steps closer to me.
“Briar, wait. That’s a very dangerous weapon. Do you know what you’re doing?”
I load and insert my magazine, then look up at him. “Yes. My dad was a Marine and a police academy instructor. He taught me well.”
He doesn’t look reassured. “Maybe you should wait to load it, though.”
I stand up. “If I need to use it, I won’t have enough time for that. I’m going to check the general store first. No one has to come with me. I’ll report back.”
“I’ll go,” a fellow student named John says.
“Let’s slow down and talk this out.” Cosgrove puts his palms out in a calming gesture. “It’s important that we stay together.”
I tuck the pistol into the waistband of my shorts. “We don’t have enough drinking water to go back to the island for another week. We need to find out what’s going on.”
My mother’s message has been running through my head all week, never louder than it is right now. Stay where you are, no matter what’s happening.
I’m my mother’s nature loving, inquisitive daughter, but I’m more my dad’s. He taught me to always be assessing. Assess everything: where you are, who you’re with, what you might be able to use, potential threats.
Staying on the island means staying in the dark, and I can’t do that for another hour, let alone another entire week.
Cosgrove’s sigh is defeated. “Okay. We’ll go to the general store together.”
My flickering flame of hope is snuffed out when I make out the general store through the binoculars I had in my backpack. I used them for spotting birds and whales on the island, but they’re coming in clutch for locating armed guards.
The small, rectangular building’s windows are all boarded up, but there’s a gaping hole where the front entrance once was. It looks like the store has been picked clean; the shelves I can see are empty. Three armed men sit near the front entrance, using the building to protect their backs.
I lower the binoculars, my stomach churning on the walk back to the rest of the group. I couldn’t risk anyone making noise, so I went alone.
“Well?” John’s brow furrows with concern when he spots me approaching.
“There’s nothing left there. The armed guards are protecting the gas stored under the pumps.”
“Shit,” Greta says.
I couldn’t have said it better myself. My phone is powered down and buried in my pack, in hopes I’ll be able to get service at some point.
“So what do we do?” Eric, a student I haven’t talked to much, looks at the faces around him. “We can’t call the police.”
“We could hike to the closest town,” John suggests. “Then we could—”
Greta cuts in. “What if we run into more people with machine guns?”
“Let’s just take a moment,” Professor Cosgrove says. “We don’t want to overreact.”
“I’m not going back to the island,” John says. “I need to make sure my girlfriend and my family are okay.”
Cosgrove rubs his temple, looking irritated. “All we know is that we don’t have cell service and the general store and pub have apparently been...”
“Looted,” I finish for him. “I’m leaving. My parents live about an hour from Seattle, so I’m—”
“Briar, no!” Cosgrove raises his voice, adamant. “Your mother is a very smart woman and she told you to stay where you are.”
I meet his gaze, reminding myself he wasn’t raised by Ben Hollis. He doesn’t plan for the worst.
“I’m a smart woman, too. We don’t have enough food and water to survive on the island.”
“But what if that’s how we survive the virus?” Greta asks. “What if your mom told you to stay where you are because of the virus?”
I exhale softly. “I get what you’re saying. I don’t expect anyone to go with me. The island might be the best choice for some of you.”
Cosgrove wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. “We have to stay together.”
“I’m not staying,” John says firmly. “I have to get back home to Ohio.” His gaze flicks to mine. “Can I come with you?”
I nod, taking off my pack so I can adjust the straps to fit better for traveling. “Anyone who wants to come with me can, but we’re going where I want at my pace.”
“Briar.” Cosgrove gives me a pleading look. “Think about this, please.”
I give him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Professor. This is the right choice for me.”
Straps adjusted, I reshoulder my pack and make sure the pistol is secure in my waistband.
I can’t stay here and do nothing when my parents might be in danger. My mother’s message sounded like goodbye, but if there’s even a chance I can help them, I have to try.