Dark Fey Captive (Resurrection Chronicles: The Breakwater Settlement #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

ARENA

The floating dock rocked underfoot as I stepped off the boat, maps clutched to my chest and gaze locked on the churning, murky waters of Lake Superior.

Falling in wasn’t an option. Taking the boat out to the trade station hadn’t been either.

Yet, there I was, fighting the wind for balance as it whipped my shoulder-length brown hair into my brown eyes.

“Don’t look at it, Arena,” Lettie said from behind me. “I should have brought Baxter. He would’ve helped distract you.”

Baxter, my roommate’s emotional support Chiweenie, wasn’t allowed to leave the island. He made too much noise. But Lettie was right about needing to distract myself. A panic attack out here was the last thing I wanted.

Deliver the maps and get back to land, I silently told myself.

Tearing my gaze from the water, I focused on finding Gwenora, The Breakwater’s lead trader.

I spotted her on the central dock, standing with her back to the ramshackle wall of the floating trade center’s main structure.

Protected from the lake’s wind, her ash blonde hair wasn’t trying to blind her like mine was as she spoke to two visitors I didn’t recognize.

No surprise there, though. I rarely left the island, and visitors weren’t welcome there.

Gwen’s gaze caught mine as I approached, and she smiled.

“Here she is, gentlemen,” she said. “Arena has maps of Huron. You’re lucky she was still in the area.”

As if I ever left it. However, I didn’t say anything to contradict her.

Most people trading at The Breakwater, the floating trade station positioned a few hundred meters off Devils Island’s eastern craggy shoreline, didn’t know about the island’s settlement.

Hidden among the trees at the center, the settlement remained invisible from both the water and the trade station.

Smoke screens concealed cooking fires, allowing life to continue as normal.

Well, post-world-devastation normal.

What happened six months ago still kept me up some nights. The chaos. The terror of seeing people attacking other people for no reason.

Death was terrifying. But coming back from it with an insatiable need for human flesh was scarier. If I never saw another undead again, I’d die happy.

“How detailed are your maps?” the older of the two men asked, pulling me back to the moment…and the rocking underfoot. “We heard there might be a trade settlement somewhere around Manitoulin Island.”

I perked up at the name, remembering it, and started shuffling through the collection in my arms, my fear of the water and the undead momentarily forgotten.

“Manitoulin is a large island in northern Huron,” I said in case Gwen didn’t know. “It’s part of a cluster of islands. I’m curious if they’re as rocky as the Apostle Islands, or if they’d be a good place for setting up a farming settlement.”

Devils Island had kept us alive through the initial wave of infected attacks, but it wasn’t ideal for long-term settlement. We didn’t have enough land to keep livestock as an alternate food source, let alone enough to grow the vegetables we needed.

Finding the map, I handed it to Gwen, who opened it against the trade shack’s wall. I’d been obsessed with maps since arriving on the island, studying them for places where humanity might have survived beyond our little corner of the world. So I knew this one well.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the island. “I think these smaller ones are your best bet for finding a settlement. They’d be easier to defend. But I haven’t heard of anyone who’s been that far north yet to confirm it. I hope you’ll come back and tell us what you find.”

The older one nodded.

“Sharing information kept us alive so far. I guess if you don’t hear back from us, we didn’t survive. Speaking of surviving, avoid Silver Bay. All the infected are dead.”

Infected. That’s what most people called the undead, since whatever caused them to reanimate could spread with a single bite.

A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold, spring wind.

“Dead infected are a good thing, right?” Lettie asked nervously, her fingers plucking at my jacket sleeve. I knew it wasn’t to gain my attention, but for contact. Lettie scared easily and needed comfort often. Physical contact helped, which is why she had Baxter.

“Usually. But…” He shook his head. “Not the way these died. Their heads were torn clean off, not cut, and they were piled up. Bodies and heads.”

“You’ve heard the whispers on the radio ‘bout big grey men,” his companion said. “Hulks who aren’t human? Rumor is that tearing off heads and leaving body piles is their calling card.”

“Not saying we believe it, but best to stay clear. Just in case.”

We took all safety warnings seriously, even the ones about the supposed “big grey men” who sounded more like a Bigfoot urban legend than reality.

A month ago, a trader had sworn to Gwen he’d seen one.

She’d shared his account of a demon nearly seven feet tall, with grey skin, pointed ears, unholy eyes, and fangs with the community.

Supposedly, it hadn’t wanted his supplies.

It had only asked if he had any women and children.

Lettie hadn’t slept that night. She’d snuggled Baxter, whispering into his ear until morning. Hopefully, we wouldn’t have a repeat of that tonight. We shared a bed.

Gwen nodded to the men, her expression solemn.

“Words of wisdom to live by. If it’s not human or alive, run and hide.

” She rolled up the map and handed it to them.

“It’s dangerous on land, gentlemen. Stay safe.

We look forward to your visit next month.

Remember, we’re interested in batteries of any kind. ”

They nodded and waved farewell as they backed their boat away from the dock.

“Relax,” Gwen said. “You’ll find more maps where we’re going.”

With my thoughts lingering on Silver Bay and what might have happened there, it took a second for what she said to register.

“Going?” I echoed.

“Asha’s having trouble breathing. Probably some cross-contamination in last night’s dinner. We need you to fill in.”

Gwen started down one of the eight long docks that extended from the central platform. I didn’t. I stood there, knees locked and chest growing tighter by the second.

When Gwen had radioed for me to bring any Great Lake maps I could spare, I’d assumed a trade, not a supply run.

A boat ride to the trade station and back I could manage—sort of.

A longer boat ride? That was a different story.

It wasn’t that I thought I shouldn’t risk my life for supplies like everyone else. I was just really terrified of water.

That made me a risk. I knew it, and so did everyone else.

The growing tightness in my chest was making it harder to breathe, and I glanced at the water. The very thing protecting us from the infected and everything else trying to kill us sent me into a full-blown panic attack if I got too close.

However, we’d lost too many people in the last six months to think I wasn’t past due for a turn.

Seventy percent of the settlement’s residents were women and children.

And half the remaining men were too old or injured to go out.

Everyone who went for supplies had to be able to run, be of sound mind, and be an adult.

I could run. I could think clearly. And I was thirty.

What I couldn’t do was swim.

Or float.

I sank like a rock every time I’d tried as a kid, until I’d developed the fear that kept me from the water permanently.

Lettie rubbed the back of the lightweight lifejacket I wore over my coat.

“I brought an extra Xanax if you need it,” she said softly.

The temptation to accept was real, but she needed them more than I did. I was only afraid of water. Well, and the infected. Lettie was afraid of everything, especially the unknown. Baxter wasn’t for show, and when he wasn’t enough, the meds kept her from spiraling.

“Thanks, but I’ll try to suck it up first.”

“Do you want to close your eyes again?” she asked. I’d done that on the way over, silently lying to myself that I was on an amusement park ride—on land.

Nodding, I took her hand and let her guide me, trusting her to keep me away from the edge.

To distract myself as she led me forward, I focused on what would come after the boat ride.

Scavenging.

Searching for supplies on the mainland, where the undead roamed, was as dangerous as swimming was for me. But since the world fell, it was the only way to get what we needed. Food. Medicine. And especially batteries to light the darkness and keep the radios working.

The radios were our only connection with the remaining small pockets of people struggling to survive.

Settlements like ours existed. Few and far between, but still there.

And we talked thanks to the radio. That was how we’d learned about the infected movement last month, and how most had dropped dead.

Actual dead, not undead.

Supposedly, the remaining ones were slower, but I still felt woefully unprepared for the boat ride and for what waited ashore.

“You’re doing great,” Lettie said. “Five more steps and then one down.”

Her hold on me shifted. I felt the gangway dip as I stepped onto it and pictured myself dangling over water. My hands started to shake.

“Arena, repeat the mainland rules,” Gwen ordered.

“Stay quiet. The infected are attracted to sound.” I forced myself to step forward. “Stay still when they’re nearby. They’re attracted to movement.” Another step. “Climb to escape. Most of the ones that are left don’t have the coordination or brains to figure out how to climb.”

“Get ready to take a big step down,” Lettie said.

I hurried that last step, preferring the boat to dangling over the water.

“And if you get separated?” Gwen asked, catching my hand to help me down.

“Hang a pair of underwear somewhere high and visible from the water to signal I’m safe and need to get my ass out of there,” I continued, letting her lead me around the boat that rocked more than the dock had.

“If the search party should give up on me for any reason, hang a bra to signal things have gone tits up.”

“I wonder if the bra is still where Eddie hung it,” Lynn said, her voice flat.

Guilt wormed in under my fear.

We’d lost Eddie, Lynn’s husband, a few weeks ago, before the smart, faster infected had died. Those infected had been able to climb. And open doors. And set traps.

“Lynn, you’re up top,” Gwen said, settling me into a seat.

After a few steadying breaths, I risked opening my eyes. The boat was large, and I was in the center, as far away from the water as I could get. It didn’t help, though. My chest tightened at the sight of all the water around us, making it harder to breathe.

“Wave to Maggie,” Gwen said as she started the engine.

Maggie stood outside the door of the center shack. She smiled and waved, then pointed to her ears.

I nodded at her reminder. The settlement needed batteries, but so did Maggie. They were her lifeline, powering her hearing aids. She could communicate without them, but maintaining our fleet’s engines and surviving scavenging runs would be almost impossible.

“Hang tight, Arena,” Gwen said, backing up the boat. “I’ll get us there as fast as I can.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, watching the boat turn toward the gap in the breakwaters the islanders had erected to protect the trade station.

“Ashland.”