Persona (The Island Book 2), Page 2

  “Let me go,” he stammers. “I won't come back this time, I swear. I'll go far way, I won't steal anymore. You'll never even see my face again!”

  “He's said that every time,” one of the men sneers. “How many times have we caught him stealing from our camp? How many more times have we spotted him but no-one managed to catch up to him? He's nothing but a common thief!”

  “I'll handle this,” I say firmly, interrupting him as I keep my eyes fixed firmly on Harry's face.

  “What are you gonna do, then?” a woman shouts from the crowd.

  “She won't do anything,” another woman hisses. “She's too weak.”

  Turning, I see the baying faces of Steadfall's residents. It's hard to believe that just five years ago, this was a barren patch of land that I decided to turn into a town. Now, somehow, we have fifty-six residents who've arrived in dribs and drabs, and we've even managed to create several small wooden huts. Progress has been slow but steady, and Steadfall has come to resemble a rickety old town that somehow functions on a day-to-day basis. Right now, however, the citizens are after blood, and when I glance back at Harry I can't help realizing that he's become a real test of my leadership. I know people have been whispering, suggesting that others should take control of Steadfall, and I can't afford to take another wrong step. I know exactly what they want me to do. Sometimes I think I should just give in and let them choose, but then this wouldn't be my town anymore.

  It wouldn't be Steadfall.

  “What happened this time?” I ask finally, even though I can already guess the answer.

  “He was caught stealing meat from round the back,” says a man nearby. “We'd hung up twenty rabbits yesterday, and this morning I went out and saw Harry hurrying off with five of them, heading into the forest. We almost didn't catch him.”

  “I was starving,” Harry gasps, his voice filled with fear. “Please, I had to eat. I needed -”

  Before he can finish, a rock hits the side of his head. Dropping down, he lets out a cry of pain.

  “Stop!” I shout, turning and looking over at the crowd. I wait a moment, but I have no idea who threw the rock at him. “No more of that!”

  “Then do something about him!” one of the women replies, with anger in her eyes. “He's always stealing from us! Why should someone from outside Steadfall get the benefit of our hard work?”

  “I've offered to let you join us,” I point out, turning back to Harry. “Why do you always turn me down?”

  “I don't like people,” he replies breathlessly, with fresh blood running down his face from the spot where the rock hit him. “Never have. I came to the island to get away from people. I didn't leave civilization behind just to jump into bed with a bunch of idiots who think they can build a town!”

  “You like our meat, though!” someone shouts.

  “I'll stop taking it,” Harry continues, “and this time I swear, you'll never see me again. I'll go far away!”

  “I'll believe that when I see it,” one of the men mutters darkly.

  “I promise this time,” Harry tells me. From the fear in his eyes, it's clear that he understands the situation. I'm the only one who can save his life. Then again, he seems to have identified me as a soft touch. He's exploiting me. “On everything that's holy,” he continues, “I swear, I'll never steal from your town again.”

  “Kill him!” a man shouts behind me. “How many last chances are you gonna give the bastard?”

  “Don't worry,” another man adds. “If she doesn't do it this time, we will.”

  I turn and look over at him.

  “Won't we?” he says with a smile, glancing at Deckard, who's watching from a few meters away.

  “Asher's in charge,” Deckard says firmly, although I can tell from the way he's looking at me that he knows I'm losing support. He's just biding his time, waiting for the moment to seize Steadfall from me. “Right or wrong, she makes the decisions around here.”

  “I've let you go too many times,” I say after a moment, turning back to Harry as I reach down and take a knife from my belt. He immediately tries to pull away, but the men hold him down. Crouching in front of him, I stare into his eyes as I hold the blade up for him to see, and I can't help noticing that the noise from the surrounding crowd has died down significantly. They gathered for an execution and now they sense blood. “I've tried so hard to be lenient,” I say calmly, making sure my voice can be heard by everyone around us. “That's what I wanted, Harry. I wanted to not have to hurt you.”

  “Just let me go,” he whimpers, with tears in his eyes. “Please, I'll run and I'll never come back. You'll never, ever see or hear from me again. I'll go all the way to the other end of the island!”

  “That's what was supposed to happen the last time,” I point out, “and the time before that, and the time before that. But you just kept coming back and stealing more of our food.”

  He shakes his head.

  “You did, Harry. You know you did.”

  “Please...”

  “So you've left me with no choice.”

  “I was starving to death!” he hisses. “I would've died!”

  “I know,” I reply, “and I'm sorry about that, but I offered you the chance to join us. That wasn't a popular decision on my part, but I thought it was the right thing to do. You turned me down.”

  “I don't want to live with you!” he spits. “I came to the island to get away from people, not to end up living in some kind of...” He pauses, as if he's not sure of the right word. “Shanty town,” he adds finally, and the disgust is evident in his voice. “What have you got here, anyway? Do you think you can actually build something that'll last?” A smile slowly grows across his muddied, blood-encrusted lips. “The first strong wind that blows through here, and your pathetic little town'll come crashing down. You're barely clinging to life as it is. Don't pretend like you're achieving anything, because all you're doing is recreating a pitiful version of the tyranny and evil we all left behind when we came to the island. This is a place for people to die, not for them to live.”

  Keeping my eyes fixed on him, I move the knife's blade closer. I don't want to do this, not in cold blood, but I know that the people of this town will turn on me if I back down now.

  “Helicopter,” a voice says suddenly.

  Turning, I see that several people are looking up at the sky, and sure enough a moment later I realize I can hear a helicopter not too far from here. More new arrivals for the island, I guess. More people who've fled civilization and come to try living out here, far away from the madness of the old world. I remember years ago, as a child, watching an execution in a small square in one of the urban areas. Four dissidents were shot, and their deaths struck fear into the hearts of everyone who was there that day. I remember sobbing, but I was forced to watch every moment, and not a day has gone by that I haven't remembered the moment when those bodies slumped to the ground. There were people baying for blood back then, too, but I remember swearing that I'd never be like them. And now here I am, about to carry out an execution.

  The crowd waits for me to do the deed, but with a sickening sense of dread I realize I can't go through with it. I can't do the wrong thing just so that I'll be popular.

  “Let him go!” I say firmly.

  Immediately, a roar of disapproval rises up from the crowd.

  “With one difference this time!” I shout, although I doubt anyone can hear me. Turning, I see the fury in their eyes, and I wouldn't be surprised if someone came rushing over to attack me right now. “With one difference!” I continue. “Listen to me! I've decided to let him go, but it's not going to be like last time!”

  I wait, but they're yelling at me, calling me a coward.

  “Listen!” I shout. “If you just -”

  Before I can finish, a rock flies from the crowd, almost hitting me in the face. I manage to duck out of the way just in time, and then I turn to see scores of angry faces jeering at me. Any one of them could have thrown that rock.
That's how deeply unpopular I've become.

  “Silence!” a voice suddenly booms, louder than all the rest. “Shut up! Let her speak!”

  As the crowd starts to quieten again, I turn and see that it was Deckard who got them back under control. He smiles at me, but we both know he was just demonstrating his power once again. Without him, I'd have lost control long ago.

  “We're letting him go,” I continue, raising my voice so I can be heard over the constant murmur of disapproval all around me, trying not to let them realize that I'm worried, “but this time there's a difference. This time, I'm giving an order that if he's ever seen here again, there's no need for him to be brought to me.” I look around at the angry eyes staring at me from the crowd. I know full well that I'm taking a huge risk here. “From now on, anyone who catches Harry Shaw stealing from the camp is authorized to execute him.”

  “You should just do it yourself!” a woman sneers.

  “Not in cold blood,” I tell her. “Not like this. If you don't agree with my decision, I'm sorry, but it's final. Steadfall will not be the kind of place where a frail old man is knifed in front of a baying crowd. I refuse to let that happen.”

  I wait, but to my surprise I find that although plenty of people are muttering their disapproval, no-one seems willing to outright challenge me. I still have some authority left.

  “Don't let me down,” I say firmly, turning to Harry. “I'm taking a risk for you.”

  “I'll leave,” he sobs, “I swear!”

  “Now let him go,” I tell the men who are holding Harry down. “I'm sick of the sight of him.”

  As soon as he can get free, Harry stumbles to his feet and then staggers away. Several more rocks are thrown at him, and some hit his back as he runs toward the treeline and finally disappears into the forest. I look down at the knife in my hand and try to imagine how I'd feel if I'd executed him, and deep down I know that it would have been the wrong choice. Still, as the crowd starts to disperse, I can hear more muttered comments of disapproval, and I feel as if one day this moment will be used again me. Plus, I have no doubt that sooner or later, Harry will be back to steal from the town again, and someone will kill him.

  “An interesting decision,” Deckard says as he comes over to me. “For a moment there, I thought you were actually going to execute the old man.”

  “That's not how we do things here,” I reply.

  “It's not?” He smiles. “Well, maybe for now. You should know that a lot of people here are unhappy with your recent decisions. You could've won a few of them around if you'd showed strength and killed that miserable old thief.”

  “I know,” I reply, turning to him before glancing at the hand-carved Steadfall sign that I put up five years ago, “but then I'd have had to take that sign down, because this wouldn't be Steadfall anymore.”

  “Unless -”

  “Can you send a group to look for the new arrivals?” I ask, interrupting him. “Usual procedure. If anyone wants to come and join us here, they're welcome. The canopy rules apply, though.”

  “I've already sent some men,” he replies.

  “We need more wood, too,” I tell him. “I was thinking -”

  “I've sent a group to cut down trees by the ridge,” he continues, interrupting me. “They left at dawn, should be back tomorrow.”

  “Okay, good,” I reply, even though I feel as if he's trying to take control. “Meet me in my hut at sundown and we'll go over some things, as usual.”

  “As you wish,” he says with a smile. “You're the boss.”

  He turns and walks away, and immediately a couple of men hurry to join him, keeping their voices down as they talk. After a moment one of them glances back at me with fearful, distrustful eyes, and I have no doubt they're telling Deckard how much they hate my decision, and how they're sure it's a sign of weakness. He's probably lapping it up, too, and enjoying the idea that slowly but surely the entire town is turning away from me. It's just a question now of when, not if, he makes his move.

  The worst part is, I think they might be right. I'm not cut out for this, I never was. People always say that I'm strong, but I don't know what that means. I just wish Iris was still around. Running this town was much easier before she lost her mind and took off on her crazy journey to the south.

  Chapter Two

  Iris

  Stopping in the tall grass at the edge of the forest, I crouch down for a moment and pull a thick, yolk-filled sac from a bush and hold it up high. After tilting my head back, I squeeze the sac until it bursts and then I let the sweet, seed-filled mixture run down my throat. Once that's done, I tear the empty sac apart with my hands and then swallow the lining. They might not taste so hot, but these things provide enough energy for a good day's activity. They've kept me going, although they leave my hands feeling impossibly sticky.

  They're also one of the easier things to eat when you no longer have a tongue.

  “Hungry?” a voice whispers nearby.

  Turning, I see my sister Della watching from a few feet away. I know it's not really her, of course. Back in my old life, before I came to the island, I thought I was looking after Della, keeping her safe. Eventually I discovered that she'd been dead for years, and that I'd been imagining her. Lately, however, I've started to imagine her again, and I actually enjoy these imaginary conversations. Talking to myself is better than talking to no-one, and at least with Della I can pretend I still have my voice. I don't care whether that makes me mad or not. I just care about keeping my head straight.

  “You're getting weaker,” she continues, telling me what I already know. “You need proper food.”

  “I'll find some,” I imagine myself telling her. “I'm okay, I promise.”

  “You can't keep doing this forever.”

  “I don't plan to. I'm just looking for -”

  “You'll never find it,” she replies, as I imagine her interrupting me. The voices in my head can be argumentative sometimes. “Even Asher didn't believe you'd find it when you told her you were leaving. Remember how she begged you to stay and help out at Steadfall?”

  “I'm going back soon. I just need to keep searching for this place first.”

  “You'll die out here if you don't turn back right now,” she tells me. “It's a miracle you've made it this far.”

  “I don't believe in miracles.”

  “Where are you, anyway?”

  “Near the southern tip.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Turning, I look around for a moment. Blinking furiously, I realize that I might have lost my bearings a little. I thought I was close to the very farthest end of the island, but now I'm starting to think that I inadvertently doubled back, that I might be heading toward Steadfall again. I'll have to wait until tonight to be sure, and then I can check the stars.

  They'll tell me which way to go.

  Getting to my feet, I take a moment to look around and then I set off again. It's been six months since I left Steadfall and set out on this journey, and I've considered turning back several times. I know Asher thinks I'm a fool, that I'm placing too much faith in whispered half-truths and stories cooked up by dreamers. She might be right, but deep down in my gut I have this feeling that there really is something out here at the island's southern tip. Either way, I have to know for sure, and it's not as if I was able to help much back at the town. Asher's strong, she's got everything covered, whereas I still find it hard to be around people. Five years after Vargas cut my tongue out, I'm still plagued by nightmares, and I still find it difficult to turn my back on people. Plus, the more I imagine myself talking to my dead sister, the more I feel as if I'm considered an outcast, a freak.

  “How can there be another town on the island?” Della asks. “It doesn't even make sense.”

  “People talked about it.”

  “Crazy people. Idiots.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “So you seriously believe that you'll find it? Another town, maybe even bigger than Stea
dfall?”

  “If it exists, I want to make contact.”

  “Liar. You're just out here because you couldn't handle life at Steadfall. You don't like being around people.”

  “Then why do I keep imagining you?”

  “I'm not real,” she replies calmly, “and I'm dead. And you can make me go away whenever you want.”

  So I do. After all, while talking to Drella can be useful sometimes as a means of organizing my thoughts, she can also become pretty antagonistic. I already know that this journey is a long shot, that I might not find the other town even if it does exist, but at the same time I can't turn back. I need to know for sure whether Steadfall is the only major town on the island, or whether other people have had the same idea as Asher.

  Trudging through the undergrowth, I ignore the temptation to talk to Della again. Instead, I focus on keeping my mind silent.

  Chapter Three

  Asher

  “Of course she let him go,” a man grumbles as he pours berries into a pot. “You didn't seriously think she'd step up, did you? She's too weak for that and -”

  He stops as soon as he sees that I'm walking past, and we briefly make eye contact before he turns and starts working with the berries again. His two friends also conspicuously turn away, but I keep walking rather than challenging them. Nearby, several dead rabbits are being prepared for cooking, but once again I can't shake the feeling that some of the people are eying me with suspicion, maybe even contempt. By the time I've made my way to the edge of the clearing, I turn and look back at the town, and I can't help wondering if Steadfall is becoming too big for me to control. Maybe I should just turn it over to Deckard and move on.

  “You made the right decision earlier,” a voice says suddenly

  Turning, I see Olivia carving some wood nearby. Sometimes I think she's the only person left in this town who's actually on my side.

  “With Harry, I mean,” she continues. “I'm glad you didn't murder him in cold blood.”

  “I came close.”