Chapter 32
“My son wants nothing to do with me, but he must be protected. I want him assigned to a leadership position where he’s out of harm’s way.
After all I’ve done in support of New America, I expect this request will be granted.
” – Electronic message from Aldous Thatcher to New America Present Soren Whitman
Marcus
Island Four is an underground maze. The tunnels here are watertight, some made of concrete and others lava tubes created by a volcano a long time ago.
Cress and Briggs, the man beside her during my questioning, are coleaders here. When the virus came, she was a dance instructor and he was in a motorcycle club. I didn’t press him on how that paid his bills. They insisted I stay the night here so we can talk more.
It’s clear they’re not sharing everything with me.
This island is geographically huge, and whatever experiments Whitman had people doing here were done underground.
The jungle provides a canopy that makes this island perfect for the ILF to sell as contaminated and uninhabitable.
From every visible angle, this place appears deserted.
In reality, it’s a hive of activity. We passed through a room of people using computers with big screens, and it reminded me of an air traffic control center. The mood was serious and tense; everyone focused on their work.
It was clearly surveillance. I suspect that with a satellite, the ILF is monitoring far more than just Blue Arrow Island. Seeing and hearing about this place gives me hope that the ILF is organized and strong enough to bring down New America.
We’re in the camp’s cafeteria for breakfast now, bright white light on the ceiling helping compensate for the lack of windows. This space looks like it was built to hold hundreds of people, and there are more than a hundred in here now.
My plate is stacked with pancakes, eggs, sausage, and toast. I’ve got coffee and orange juice to drink. There’s even syrup, which I haven’t had since before the virus.
“We’ve been trying to find Thatcher’s son for years,” Cress says. “But we were searching the mainland. We never considered he might stash his kid on one of the islands.”
“If you can spare a drone to drop a bomb on him, that would be great,” I say.
“So he’s as much of a dick as his father?” Cress scoffs. “Shocking.”
“What’s Aldous Thatcher up to these days?”
Cress looks at Briggs, who responds. “He’s Whitman’s vice president. Thatcher’s a mastermind, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, his IQ’s like one hundred sixty.”
Briggs grimaces. “He’s smart and shrewd. You wouldn’t think the skills it takes to become a billionaire are also clutch in the apocalypse, but you’d be wrong.”
“So he’s in Carson City? Same as Mae?”
Briggs shakes his head. “Whitman and Thatcher are always on the move. They never stay in the same place two nights in a row.”
“Makes them hard to catch.”
“Watch us do it anyway,” Cress says.
I’m still stunned that Mae is married to Lochlan Murphy. Briggs said she was forced into the marriage shortly after Briar was convicted of taking birth control. Briar will be devastated when she finds out.
“I know a boat’s a lot to ask for,” I say. “But if you’ll let me take one, I’ll owe you. I keep my word.”
Briggs studies me. “It’s a big ask, yeah. Especially since you worked for New America before.”
I nod. “I get that. I’ve been completely honest with you guys. I was a Rising Tide leader for less than two months. I’ve been doing everything in my power to end them since.”
Cress rests her chin on her steepled hands. “We talked it over, and we’re willing to give you a boat. But in return, you have to work for the ILF when you get back to the mainland. Immediately and until the job is done. We’re not talking about thirty days here. It may take years.”
“Done.”
She arches a brow. “I don’t like how quickly you agreed to that. What about your girlfriend?”
“Briar needs to find her sister, and her number one priority will be getting her out of Lochlan’s grip.”
“And you’d help her with that?”
I drop my brows. “I’d stand in front of a firing squad for Briar. Yeah, I’ll help her with it.”
Cress sighs. “Your devotion to her has broken a few hearts around here, you know.”
My jaw unhinges. “What the hell do you mean?”
Briggs smiles wryly. “Some of our women have surveillance crushes. You’re kind of a celebrity around here.”
That’s fucking wild. I don’t think I want to know if the men around here have been creeping on Briar.
“I assume Smythe will want you to stay with Briar and go work Mae Murphy,” Briggs says. “Smythe is our leader. But it might not be a rescue mission. We need her information.”
The rasp of my palm rubbing my stubbled jaw is the only sound for a couple of seconds.
“Come on, man. If the ILF are the good guys, how can you leave someone in that situation? Briar was assaulted by him many times. He has to die.”
“We wouldn’t leave a woman in that situation for long,” Cress assures me. “A few days, maybe. But you’ve been straight with us and we’re being straight with you. If you join us in order to use the boat, Smythe gets to assign you wherever he needs you most.”
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back, considering.
I don’t want to be split up from Briar, even for a week.
But now that I know what a shitty situation her sister is in, I can’t leave here without a boat.
There’s no way I’m going back and telling Briar I could’ve gotten us passage back home but didn’t.
“Okay,” I say, sullen. “I’ll do whatever I need to do.”
Cress and Briggs exchange a look.
“You can leave anytime,” Briggs says. “But you need to know—if you don’t do what you’re supposed to, or if you stab us in the back, you’ll disappear permanently. And if something happens to Briar, or the two of you break up, that doesn’t change what you owe us.”
I nod. “I understand. Briar and I want what the ILF does. I think she’ll want to join, too.”
“We’d love to have her.” Briggs looks at Cress. “I’m gonna go ahead and tell him.”
“Yeah, you should.”
I bristle. “Tell me what?”
“There was a volcanic explosion on your island almost a week ago.”
Air lodges in my throat. “What the fuck? I’ve been here since yesterday and you’re just now telling me?”
I get up from my seat, pacing a few steps away from them.
“There are survivors,” Cress says.
Fuck. Fucking fuck. The volcano blew and I’ve been sleeping in beds and eating pancakes with syrup. Our camp could be gone. Pax and Theron could have Briar.
“You manipulative fucks!” I point at Briggs. “You made sure to get my word before you told me Briar might be dead.”
Briggs holds my gaze as he says, “She’s not.”
“You’re positive?”
He nods. “There was a lot of damage, but she’s okay. The Rising Tide camp is gone and your people took them in.”
My stomach drops to the floor. “Are you fucking with me?”
He stands. “Like I said, you can leave anytime you want.”
“Take me to the goddamn boat.”
A man with a holstered gun approaches us, but Briggs waves him off.
I’m seething as Briggs leads me through dimly lit tunnels, the walk seemingly endless. Briar was afraid I wouldn’t come back to her; I never imagined she’d be the one in danger.
Finally, we reach a grotto, the air cooling considerably as soon as we enter the cavernous space. The rock walls are painted blue-green by bioluminescent moss and algae. Though it’s dark in the low light, the water is calm, six different boats bobbing gently up and down.
The boat Briggs stops next to has an aerodynamic shape, like a sleek paper airplane.
“This is Gussie. She’s a stealth sub,” Briggs says.
“She’s voice-controlled with a manual override.
You’re on Island Seven, so just tell the nav system to take you there.
There’s a radio inside that you can reach us with.
Don’t give any names or locations. If you’re compromised, we’d rather you sink it than let it fall into New America’s hands. ”
“How is this thing powered? You sure I can get to the mainland?”
“Yeah, you could take this thing around the world. It has a nuclear fusion core.”
“How many people can we fit in it?”
He shrugs. “We’ve had up to fifteen. The lighter she is, the faster she is. You’ll dock in Corpus Christi. Just tell the nav system you want to go to Texas and that’s where it’ll take you. Radio us when you’re on the way so we can let our Corpus Christi crew know you’re coming.”
I glare at him. “If Briar’s not okay, I’m coming back here. You better fucking hide well if I do.”
“She was alive as of this morning.” He looks at the sub. “Gussie, open.”
A panel on the sleek white vessel slides aside soundlessly.
“Go fuck yourself, Briggs,” I mutter, stepping inside.
“Save that anger for the people who deserve it.”
Gussie is as sleek and well-designed on the inside as she is on the outside. There are buttons and lights on panels, the seats in the boat oversized and covered in dark-gray leather.
I glance back at Briggs, giving him the finger as the door closes.
He grins back. “Welcome to the resistance, Marcus.”