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)
A terrifying suspicion is forming. Marcus was on Island Three for a long time. It’s likely that the island is hosting experiments just like ours.
They did something to him. Somehow, they altered his mind or his memories, or maybe both. He doesn’t know me anymore.
The man I know and love is not the one walking beside me. Physically, it’s him, but all the things that make Marcus himself are gone.
Now that I’ve figured out he doesn’t know things he should, other small tells are glaringly obvious. He’s not brooding. His eyes aren’t swimming with ravenous urges to fuck me up against whatever’s in reach. He hasn’t said fuck once.
I fight back the tears welling in my throat. This is so much worse than not knowing when he’d be back. I’m coming apart inside, but I can’t let it show.
Ingrid Voss is taking command of this island. I know that for sure, and I know it’s already too late to stop it. She reprogrammed Marcus’s mind, put him on a boat with a bunch of New America soldiers and some cinnamon rolls, and we let her in without so much as an objection.
Keep your guard up. Be careful who you trust.
Marcus warned me. He didn’t know this would happen, but he wanted me to be on alert for an enemy I couldn’t see coming.
Instead, I fell right into Ingrid’s trap.
34
“Just as we prepare boys to be future New America leaders, we must also prepare girls to be their wives. This order establishes the Academy of Eve. All orphan girls aged five and under will automatically become wards of the academy, and we are finalizing an incentive plan for families who wish to secure prosperous futures for their daughters by enrolling them.” - Excerpt from a video message from New America President Soren Whitman to the New America population
Briar
No one else seems suspicious.
The Dust Walkers and Tiders are sitting at tables in the Hub, happily shoving food into their mouths.
Ingrid’s soldiers passed out containers for everyone. Inside each one was a big container of peanut butter, bread, dried meat, and dried apples. The containers were stuffed full, each with more food than we’ve been getting in five full days.
“I’ll get started,” Marcus—but not really Marcus—says from the front of the room. “If anyone didn’t get food, raise your hand and we’ll get you some.”
We. He and these New America assholes have become we. Why doesn’t anyone else seem to notice?
I try to look casual as I glance around the room. Nova’s not here. Neither is Adele.
The longer I look, the harder my heart pounds. No Chance. No Breck. No one who stood with Nova back at the beach is here. They were all armed. I have a small knife tucked into my boot and a holstered gun around my waist. There are at least three dozen New America soldiers in here, and more keep arriving. They all have guns. I can’t challenge that many people.
We’ve been taken over, but no one else in the room realizes it yet.
“The world has changed a lot since most of us were on the mainland,” Marcus says. “I’m not being hyperbolic when I say that infertility and water shortages are putting the future of humanity at risk.”
The low hum of chatter quiets, people turning to look at him.
“When Soren Whitman saw civilization crumbling in the wake of the virus, he seized control. Some of his methods were militaristic and unorthodox.”
This is a rehearsed speech. Ingrid is watching Marcus give it, probably knowing every word before it even leaves his mouth because she wrote it.
In the wake of the virus. Seized control. Unorthodox.
Not only is it a load of shit; it’s not how Marcus talks. But give these hungry people some peanut butter and they’re complacently buying it all.
Movement beside me makes me glance over. Amira is there, smiling brightly. She passes me a container of food.
“Can you believe this?” she whispers. “We were just talking about peanut butter yesterday.”
We weren’t. It’s her way of telling me to play along until we can safely talk. Marcus is rambling about how misunderstood Soren fucking Whitman is, and there’s no way I can eat while listening to this nonsense.
Some of the Tiders are nodding as he talks. We were actually making progress with some of them. Helping them—trusting them inside our camp—helped them see us in a new light.
I want to run into the jungle, scream until I have no voice left, and never come back. I did this. The Tiders are lined up like bowling pins, and Ingrid is using her brainwashed version of Marcus to roll a strike. I fought to bring them into our camp, and now my own people are dramatically outnumbered by pro-Whitman ones.
“No more living like savages,” Marcus says. “We can stop fighting just to survive. Stop fighting each other and work together. I was briefed on what’s happening back home, and it’s heartbreaking. People are dying every day because of water shortages. Women are dying from untested medical procedures by fraudulent doctors promising they’ll be able to get pregnant.”