Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 110757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110757 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
“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.