Chapter 30
“It is my great pleasure to name you my new vice president. Together, we can grow our country to greatness. The strongest must protect the weakest, even when the weakest are resistant. Peace, order, and prosperity.” – Electronic message from New America President Soren Whitman to Aldous Thatcher
Briar
The air in the lab is stale and still. It’s also cool, though. I run a hand over my sweaty temple and sit down, my gaze landing on the stool McClain used to sit on.
It’s too empty in here, and not just because I’m alone. McClain was always thinking ahead to his next idea. If this doesn’t work, we’ll try that. My mom’s brain worked the same way. She was never out of options.
I’m out of options. Viable ones, at least. I want to believe I’m capable of making an aromium stabilizer.
I’m Lucy Hollis’s daughter. But I was a nineteen-year-old with one year of general education classes when the virus came.
Even though I learned a lot from my mom over the years, it wasn’t the kind of knowledge I can use to make a stabilizer for a chemical compound I don’t even know the ingredients of.
McClain was the hope that filled this space. The vibrancy. He wore his guilt like a floor-length coat, but his brilliant mind was still trying to atone for his wrongs.
Believing I can make a stabilizer gives Marcus and the others hope, and I don’t want to destroy that. I could keep switching out variables, but I know in my gut it’s not going to change anything.
There are so many scientific possibilities. A stabilizer might be able to help someone whose aromium was injected recently, but not someone who has had it a long time. Just like aromium, it might affect people differently.
“Aphrodite, I’m looking for you.”
Stella’s voice over the radio pulls me from my daze. There’s no one left on the island who could be monitoring our radio communications, but using our call signs is a habit. Stella’s team only uses call signs with each other, and they use numbers.
I push the button on the side of my radio and speak into it. “I’m on my way up.”
Marcus has been gone for five days. So much has happened in that time. We’re in survival mode, just trying to keep everyone safe and fed.
I go up the ramp and the guards open the Sub door. Muddy droplets splash onto my boots as the door rises. It’s still raining hard.
The dull pounding of rain on the roof of the Sub never went away last night. It was there when I drifted off to sleep after several sleepless hours, and it was still there when Amira woke me up for our shift on watch.
I’m not sleeping well, which is no surprise. It’s not a matter of if Theron will strike, but when. And even though there’s no proof, I’m still suspicious that he has Tiders in our camp ready to jump ship and join him when he invades.
I walk through the muddy camp, dark-gray clouds rolling above.
I don’t mind the rain. It’s a cleansing of sorts.
We’ve worked tirelessly to clear the ash residue the volcano left behind, but it’s dirty, endless work.
The rain has already restored the ground to its natural state.
This is what our garden and livestock pasture needed.
Stella is probably in the Hub. That’s where all the Tiders are, because no one can work in the downpour. When I walk into the Hub, there are people gathered at tables, but the rain hammering the metal roof drowns out everything else.
I scan the room, looking for Stella. Though I don’t see her, something else makes me do a double take.
Three female Tiders are sitting at a table, the other five chairs filled with people from our camp.
The Tiders are teaching them how to weave the baskets and mats they make.
They soak a natural fiber similar to bamboo to make it pliable, and then use it to make baskets so airtight they can hold water.
They also use the woven fibers for sleeping mats and rugs.
One of the Tiders at the table is Marcelle. She hasn’t noticed me. Georgie is trying to weave the fibers, and Marcelle gives her instructions. I’ve never seen Marcelle in an unguarded moment. She looks like a different person than the snarling hell beast I know.
“There you are.” Stella approaches me. “We couldn’t send fishing crews out in this weather. They didn’t want to sit in here so Pax took them to the farm. I guess they’re building new stalls.”
“Who’s with them?”
“That’s the thing. It’s just Wyatt and Chance. Chance’s aim is improving, but ... I don’t know, I feel like we’re too spread out.”
Chance’s left arm was amputated below the elbow after a jaguar attack, and he’s still learning to use weapons and fight with only one hand.
He’s been training with a prosthetic Wyatt made him with a morning star in place of a hand.
With Chance’s strength, the spiked metal ball would easily crush a skull if he wanted it to.
It’s hard to keep the Tiders and our camp guarded around the clock. We have thirty people on our two command and two security teams, and we’re running everyone hard. It takes sixteen people to keep our camp perimeter secure. Nova and Amira are doing perimeter shifts now. I have one in a few hours.
It’s impossible to see through the heavy rain, but we do our best. Hopefully it’s just as hard for Theron and the Rising Tide exiles to see us, too.
“I think Wyatt and Chance can handle it,” I say. “Pax will back them up if they need it.”
She huffs, aggravated. “He’s the least trustworthy one out of all of them. You’re naive for trusting him.”
I don’t respond because I don’t want to argue. I don’t fully trust Pax, but he saw me kill Dion and Grady for breaking a rule; he doesn’t want us to turn on their shield and kill every Tider in our camp, because he’d die, too.
“I’m putting him back to work,” Stella grumbles. “Why should the rest of us do guard duty in the pouring rain for hours on end when he’s doing nothing?”
I follow her gaze to Olin. He has many of the children—both our camp’s own and Rising Tide’s—gathered into a circle. The other caregivers are tending to the babies, which is a lot of work. Olin is keeping up with the kids who are old enough to sit and pay attention, and some of them are only two.
I smile when I see the kids making “Baby Shark” motions with their hands, Olin grinning as he leads them in the song. The kids from our camp are laughing and smiling, but the Tider kids are stone-faced.
Except ... one of them is half smiling. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one of the Tider kids express any kind of emotion.
“Olin’s working harder than we are.” I give Stella a pointed look. “Leave him alone.”
“Nova can break the tie.”
I’m done with diplomacy. “Stella, he’s the only consistent thing those kids have had since the volcano erupted. For fuck’s sake, leave him alone.”
“Just because we’re all doing our jobs, don’t assume we’re all okay with this situation. We’re all tired and hungry and sick of not even having enough energy for a shower.”
I roll my eyes. “Put your tiny violin away, I don’t give a shit. Marcus will be back soon and you can tell on me.”
Our radios both crackle at the same time.
“This is Artemis. I need a restock on arrows. I just used six to put down a lion that was coming into camp.”
Amira’s message brings me back to reality. I sigh softly and lock my eyes onto Stella’s.
“I’m sorry. That was bitchy of me.”
“I’m sorry, too. I’m tired and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Would you rather restock Amira or stay here?”
She shrugs. “I’ll do either, but you’re already soaking wet and I’m dry, so I won’t be mad if you go restock her.”
“Sure. If you need a nap, call me and I’ll come relieve you.”
“I’ll be okay.”
I go into the kitchen, where Vadim and another kitchen worker are working on what looks like soup. Vadim’s dark braids are gathered and tied at the nape of his neck.
“V, can you spare anything at all for the people on perimeter guard?”
“How about some dried mango and bananas?”
“That would be great. Thanks.”
He sets down the knife he’s using to chop dried spices. “I’ll pack some for each of them. How many?”
“Sixteen.”
The kitchen is usually buzzing with activity, no matter what time of day it is. It worries me that only Vadim and one other person are working.
“How are the supplies looking?” I ask.
He bends his knees to reach a base cabinet, and he pulls out a large container, moving it to the counter.
“We’ll make it work. The chickens are producing plenty of eggs again. We’re making bread and soup for tonight’s dinner with bigger portions than usual. Soup is easy to stretch.”
“My mom used to always make soup on rainy days.”
He smiles. “My grandmother used to say soup feeds the belly and the soul.”
I tie up the small burlap sacks he’s filling with dried fruit. Our camp keeps stores of canned and dried foods just in case of emergency, and that foresight is keeping all of us alive right now.
“Thank you,” I say as I tie the final bag closed.
“Of course.” He walks over to the stove and picks up a slice of bread, offering it to me as he says, “You missed breakfast.”
I shake my head, my growling stomach giving away my hunger. I was so revolted by what Dion and Grady did that I won’t take a single bite more than my share of our rations. Our perimeter guard usually only gets one meal a day on rations, so I’m not giving them more than anyone else will get today.
After tucking the fruit bags into the small pack on my back that holds my canteen and extra weapons, I pick up a one-gallon water jug I can fill and top off the perimeter guard’s canteens with.
“Briar,” Vadim calls as I’m about to exit the kitchen.
“Hm?” I look over my shoulder at him.
“Remember—there can be no rainbow without a cloud and a storm.”
My smile is the first genuine, warm one I’ve felt in a while. “This is one hell of a storm, so hopefully that means one hell of a rainbow.”
“Indeed.”