Every Vow You Break(60)

It was about fifty yards to the line of trees at the edge of the landing strip. Her legs felt heavy, but she moved them as fast as she could, the men’s laughter still audible, even over the sound of her own frantic running.

She was almost to the woods when something large hit her back and she was dragged down onto the ground, her chin bouncing as she skidded painfully to a stop.

“Got her,” came a yell about a foot from her ear, and then she was flipped forcibly onto her back. It was the pilot, and Abigail reached up, got a handful of hair plus part of the necklace, and pulled as hard as she could, his head jerking down, puka shells scattering, and a hank of hair coming loose in her hand. He gritted his teeth and grunted.

“Bitch,” he said, and punched her in the chin. The world went briefly dark and unfocused and she squeezed her eyes shut.

When she opened them again all of the men—Eric, Chip, Bruce, and the pilot—stood above her looking down. Bruce was grinning, his teeth clenched and his lips wide apart, and Chip was breathing hard, his beard now gleaming with sweat. Eric seemed blank, almost distracted. The pilot had both her arms pinioned to the hard, wet earth. She could feel the cold and damp seeping through her clothes.

“She wet herself,” Bruce said, the words almost casual, like a stray observation, and it took Abigail a moment to realize he was talking about her, and that her jeans were soaked in her own urine.

There was a tapping sound and she swiveled her head. Chip was holding a large syringe, flicking at it with a finger. “Wait,” she said, but the pilot held her tighter as Chip crouched, then pushed the needle deep into her neck.





CHAPTER 25

For some time, she was nothing.

And then she was in darkness. She knew that even before she opened her eyes.

Someone coughed, and she lifted her head. A tide of nausea rose through her, and she put her head back down. And closed her eyes.

And then she was nothing again.



Coughing.

Not her own but someone else’s. The sound of it wet and strangled.

This time when she lifted her head the world swam but her stomach felt okay. Wherever she was, it was complete darkness, the kind of black that has no form at all. There was the smell of damp in the air, and something else, a flowery smell she couldn’t identify. She sat up, discovering that one of her wrists was handcuffed to the metal frame of the bed she was on. Her other hand was free, and with that hand she reached up and touched her face. She could feel a tender sticky scab on her chin where she’d been punched by the pilot. Her mouth was dry and tasted sour.

“Hello?” she said into the room, her voice sounding cracked and slurred in her own head.

“Hello,” came a voice back, from maybe about ten feet away. A woman’s voice, anxious, a little hopeful.

“Who’s there?” Abigail asked.

“It’s Jill Greenly.” The words were whispered. “Is that Abigail?”

“Yes, it’s Abigail. Oh my God, what’s happening? How long have you been in here?”

“I don’t know. What day is today?” And then Abigail could hear stifled crying.

“It’s Wednesday, I think. Wednesday night or it might already be Thursday. It was Wednesday afternoon when they gave me a shot of something.”

“Who gave you a shot?”

Abigail thought back to the events that had happened after the plane had come for them. Eric had arrived, telling her that he wanted to take her off the island himself. Eric and Bruce arguing, and then suddenly they weren’t. They were laughing, all of them, and it was like she was in some movie, that moment when it’s clear that everyone is evil, that the pod people are everywhere and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“It was Chip,” she said to Jill in the dark. “Chip who owns this place gave me the shot that knocked me out. But they’re all in on it. My husband, and Eric, and everyone. They’re all part of it.”

“What do you mean?” Jill said. “Who’s Chip?”

“He runs this place, but he’s in on it.”

“In on what?”

“All of it. All of them. I think we’re here to be punished or something. We’re the only women here.”

Jill was quiet for a moment, and Abigail said, “You still there?”

“I’m here. That’s what they told me, actually. They told me I was being punished for my sins.”

“Who told you?” Abigail said.

“Alec told me the night I tried to run.”

“I saw you that night. Outside of my bunk.”

Jill started crying again. Abigail waited, even though she wanted to tell her to stop crying so they could talk to each other.

She didn’t know how much time they had.

“That was you?” Jill said at last.

“Yes, you ran away from me.”

“I didn’t know what … I didn’t know what was happening.”

“Why were you bleeding?”

“Alec … and Porter …”

“Porter was the man you used to be engaged to, right? The man who showed up here, and you were upset about.”

“I don’t know if I should talk about this,” Jill said. “They’re probably listening.”

“So what? We need to know each other’s stories. It can only help us.”