The Forbidden Trilogy (57 page)

He heard other voices around her, filtered through her own
mind and awareness.

They told her to push, to stay calm, to breathe.

He said the same, sending her his strength, his healing, his
power.

Then panic arose. The baby! What were they saying? He
couldn't hear. Sam faded out. She moved farther away from him, away from the
world. He knew what that meant. He couldn't let that happen.

'Sam, no! Don't go. Fight, dammit. Fight! Take my power.
Take my strength. Whatever you need from me, take it. Keep yourself safe. Keep
our baby safe.'

"Drake, I need you. I miss you. Why did you leave me
and— Ah!"
She whimpered in pain like a kicked puppy.

He focused, sending her more and more until the last drop of
his power poured into her, and he felt their connection breaking—

"It's a girl, Drake. Ana's here."

She was gone.

The sharp blade dug through the soft wood, slicing the final
branch off the long tree limb. Lucy stood and tested it—perfect height and
weight for a walking stick. She took a quick inventory of her bag: a computer,
useless for now; tear gas, not especially helpful at the moment; a baseball
cap.

An image pushed into her awareness: Robert had worn a cap
like this. Her mind replayed the moment when the bullet tore into his chest,
and his cap flew off his head as he fell to the ground. She pushed the memory
down, burying it with the others.

No time for that now. Must focus. Must survive.

She put on the cap, needing the protection from the sun, and
continued her inventory of the bag. The phone and walkie-talkie still didn't
work. She had one more bottle of alcohol, useful if they needed to clean a
wound; her water bottle, now almost empty; and one more can of stew, which was
Luke's.

A cacophony of sounds created a symphony in the jungle. It
was beautiful, in its own way, though Lucy didn't want to consider too closely
what kinds of creatures were making those sounds. She focused instead on the
bigger picture as she packed up her supplies and began her hike. The trees, the
sky, the sound of the ocean in the distance—if she hadn't been stranded, she
might have enjoyed this place.

First stop: she needed to find the waterfall again, or
another source of fresh water, and refill. Then she'd look for food. How hard
could it be to find something out here?

Whatever strength she'd derived from the canned stew waned
as the hours passed. She couldn't find the waterfall they'd been to earlier. In
fact, she couldn't find anything that looked familiar. No matter how far she
went, everything looked the same. She'd never been the best at outdoor
scouting. Her strengths lay in computers and hand-to-hand combat. Missions that
required breaking in—infiltrating a secure area and neutralizing a threat, hacking
into high tech computer systems—that's what she was good at. Hunting and
foraging? Not so much.

She tried to remember what Mr. Hatler had said about finding
your way back to camp and foraging for food. The information was in her brain
somewhere, if only she could access it. In the meantime, she kept walking and
walking and walking. Her tired legs and sore body begged for rest, but she
couldn't stop without finding water. She'd saved a drop of water in her bottle,
but it would do little good. It served merely as a psychological tool to make
her feel like she still had some left.

Just as hopelessness started to win over perseverance, Lucy
pushed through another set of trees and into a clearing. Energy surged through
her at the sight of a river, and she ran to the water, praying it was fresh.

At the first sip, she smiled and sank her hot, sweaty face
into the welcome cold. She drank her fill and refilled her water bottle, hoping
that she could find her way back here from her rendezvous point with Luke.
Given the greenery around the river, maybe she could also score some food. Once
food, water and shelter had been taken care of, they could focus on getting off
this island and back to their assignment.

She closed her eyes and rested against a rock, her hand dipping
into the water as she daydreamed about food. It took all her strength not to
eat her brother's stew, but after drinking himself into a stupor, he was going
to need food and water more than she.

Stupid idiot. You don't get drunk and dehydrate yourself while
stranded with no food and water. I should kick his ass.

It was easier to be mad at Luke. Lucy couldn't afford the
alternative: being scared out of her mind. He'd never acted like this before.
He'd always been there for her, no matter what. She couldn't lose her brother
in this. Besides Sam, he was all she had.

She shook herself and sat up. Time to look for food. Resting
wouldn't help if all she did was worry. In the lake, a pair of eyes rose just
above the surface and stared straight at her.

Oh, wow! An alligator. Or is it a crocodile? What's the
difference?

This time her memory served up something useful. An
alligator had a wide, U-shaped jaw, while crocodiles usually had a longer, more
pointed jaw. A crocodile's fourth tooth on its lower jaw stuck out over their
upper lip, while an alligator's stayed in its mouth. Crocodiles had a special
gland in their tongues that could get rid of excess salt, so they tended to
live in saltwater habitats. Alligators had these glands too, but they didn't
work as well, so they preferred fresh water. Both were carnivores who tore
their prey apart.

The creature lifted its head—U-shaped jaw, no tooth, and
definitely in fresh water. Alligator.

Lucy tensed to run, but one last bit of information stopped
her: people ate alligator, she was pretty sure.

She drew her knife and took a fighter's stance, then
considered her opponent and shook her head. A knife wouldn't work. She'd be
alligator food before she could even get close enough to do damage. Her martial
arts skills were useless here, too. But what if she couldn't find any other
food? Maybe a spear would give her the distance she needed, but it would have
to be heavy and sharp to even dent the thick skin.

She found a few sticks, but none that would really work. The
wood was too soft, or too thin. She looked at her walking stick. Maybe if she
tied her knife to it? Nah, it would still be too dangerous, and she would lose
her only weapon.

My gun! Duh! Can't believe I forgot about that.
She
pulled it out of her holster and aimed at the creature in the water. The right
shot could take him down immediately. Then she'd have to get him out of the
water, because....

Does he have friends?
Her hand wavered. Didn't
matter; she had to risk it. For meat. For life.

She held her arm steady, body straight. The alligator held
her gaze, unafraid, unaware that she was about to end his life.

End his life. Again.

How many deaths would be on her head when this was over?
Would the alligator feel pain? Would it die fast or slow? Could she eat a
creature that she'd made suffer?

Her arm lowered, her body refusing to do what her mind tried
to convince it was right. The alligator blinked, then sank back into its watery
home as if it had all been a test, and he her teacher. Had she passed or
failed? She didn't know.

Her stomach growled, proving that on some level she had
failed. Hunger chewed through her, gnawing at her insides.

The sun lowered. It would be dark soon, and she had to get
back to camp, but what would they do without food?

She walked downriver toward what she now knew was the ocean,
and spied a group of trees that looked familiar. She searched, thinking they
might be banana trees, but all she found were fat green leaves that would
surely look appealing to some creature, just not her—not without a high-speed
blender and some strawberries.

She kept walking, frustrated and starving, and finally
stepped onto the sandy beach. She wasn't too far from camp, but far enough to
require a short rest. She leaned against a tree, giving in to the despair and
loneliness that had been fighting her all day.

Salty tears leaked down her face. She missed her bed at the
mansion, and the other kids, and of course Sam. She'd hoped to be there for the
days leading up to the birth of Ana. She was just so lonely—a longing that
Luke's presence couldn't fulfill. She wanted to share herself in a way she
never had, to find an intimacy she couldn't get from Luke or Sam. She wanted
what Sam had with Drake.

Well, before he became a douche bag and left her. Better
to be alone than fall in love with an asshole.

At least she didn't have to suffer the kind of pain Sam was
going through. She couldn't even imagine that agony. Still, the comforts of
home, the friendships and showers and food—she missed these things.

Will we ever get off this damn island and back to our own
life?

Something hit the side of her head and shattered her
thoughts. "Ouch!" She put her hand to head and saw blood. "What
the hell?" It didn't seem too severe, just a bit of a lump and some
dizziness.

She drew her gun and looked around, and couldn't decide
whether to laugh or curse when she saw her assailant. A coconut lay a few feet
away, a bit of her blood smudged on its surface.
Attacked by fruit. Real ni—

Fruit?

That refocused her. Coconuts were a complete nutrient. She'd
heard that coconut meat and milk, blended with a banana, came very close to the
nutritional make-up of mother's breast milk. She had no idea how she knew
that—probably something Sam had said in all her motherhood reading—but still,
mother's milk was the perfect meal. Even without bananas, coconuts could get
them through this ordeal quite nicely.

She grabbed the one that had attacked her and studied it.
How the hell was she supposed to get it open? She slammed it against a rock,
and milk splashed all over her, along with bits of shell and meat. Using her
knife, she dug out the soft insides and ate what she could. Once she'd
finished, she identified more in the tree. If she could get them down, she and
Luke would have plenty of food while they worked out a plan.

Hope blossomed in her.

She sheathed her knife, pulled out her sweatshirt and spun
it into a tight rope, then wrapped it around the tree and used it to shimmy up
to the top.

The climb went slowly, with her feet slipping a few times,
but eventually she got high enough to cut down several coconuts. When a small
pile rested under the tree, she climbed down and shook out her sweatshirt, then
created a carrier and stacked a load of coconuts in it.

She couldn't carry them all, but what she had would get them
started, and she could come back for more when they got hungry. The tree sat
close enough to the river that this would be a good "cafeteria" for
them.

The coastline wound its way west, and Lucy followed the
setting sun toward the original location where they'd washed up. It was time to
make camp and get some food in Luke.

She arrived fifteen minutes later, puffing and just about to
lose her grip on the sweatshirt carrier. No sign of Luke, so she found dry wood
and started a campfire. The crackling fire and cool ocean breeze made it easy
to pretend she was just camping on the beach, something they'd done for
training a few times.

To pass the time, she took out a few coconuts and used trial
and error to figure out the best way to open them without ruining the food—or
her clothes. After a few more epic messes she finally got it. First, she
drilled a small hole into the shell, to drain the milk into a large leaf or to
drink straight from the coconut. Then she carved a line around the top, and cut
it open so they could eat the meat inside.

Happy with her accomplishment, she called for Luke, hoping
he was nearby and would come eat with her.

He didn't answer.

What if something had happened to him? What if he'd gotten
sick and passed out? Worst-case scenarios filled her mind. She used the fire to
make a torch, grabbed a coconut—he had to be starving by now—and stepped out
into the darkness.

She stuck to the path they'd walked that morning, not sure
where else he might be, and not wanting to explore the whole jungle in the
dark. The hill loomed before her, with the crash site on the other side. She
didn't want to go there again, but something pulled at her. The sphere pulsed
softly. She'd almost forgotten she had it, but the reassuring warmth gave her
strength, and she walked over the hill and toward the plane.

Luke sat on a rock near the crash site, drinking a bottle of
rum.

Lucy rushed to him, tears in her eyes, angry and sad and
relieved all at once. She took a breath, about to yell at him for leaving her,
when she saw the heartbreaking sadness on his handsome face.

"Hey, Bro, I found food." She held out the
coconut.

He looked up, but didn't smile. "Nice."

He didn't take it, so she sat next to him and cut it open.
"Here, you need something in you besides rum. Try it."

Luke stared at it as if it was poison, but then his hunger
and thirst kicked in and he snatched the coconut and sucked it dry.

She showed him how to open it up so he could get to the
meat. "I have more back at camp. Plus I saved your stew. But for now, drink
my water. You need it."

He took the bottle and drank greedily.

"So, I know where we can get more food and water. Now
we can focus on our mission. We still have all of our supplies. The base camp
can't be far from here. It could even be on this island. It's huge and we've
barely scaled the surface of it. We should at least try."

Luke shrugged. "Maybe."

Lucy's temper flared despite her resolve. "Maybe?
What's that supposed to mean?" She stood up and faced him. "If we
don't do anything, Rent-A-Kid's going to do the same thing to those kids that
they did to us. Is that what you want?"