Believing I can make a stabilizer gives Marcus and the others hope, and I don’t want to destroy that. I could keep switching out variables, but I know in my gut it’s not going to change anything.
There are so many scientific possibilities. A stabilizer might be able to help someone whose aromium was injected recently, but not someone who has had it a long time. Just like aromium, it might affect people differently.
“Aphrodite, I’m looking for you.”
Stella’s voice over the radio pulls me from my daze. There’s no one left on the island who could be monitoring our radio communications, but using our call signs is a habit. Stella’s team only uses call signs with each other, and they use numbers.
I push the button on the side of my radio and speak into it. “I’m on my way up.”
Marcus has been gone for five days. So much has happened in that time. We’re in survival mode, just trying to keep everyone safe and fed.
I go up the ramp and the guards open the Sub door. Muddy droplets splash onto my boots as the door rises. It’s still raining hard.
The dull pounding of rain on the roof of the Sub never went away last night. It was there when I drifted off to sleep after several sleepless hours, and it was still there when Amira woke me up for our shift on watch.
I’m not sleeping well, which is no surprise. It’s not a matter of if Theron will strike, but when. And even though there’s noproof, I’m still suspicious that he has Tiders in our camp ready to jump ship and join him when he invades.
I walk through the muddy camp, dark-gray clouds rolling above. I don’t mind the rain. It’s a cleansing of sorts. We’ve worked tirelessly to clear the ash residue the volcano left behind, but it’s dirty, endless work. The rain has already restored the ground to its natural state. This is what our garden and livestock pasture needed.
Stella is probably in the Hub. That’s where all the Tiders are, because no one can work in the downpour. When I walk into the Hub, there are people gathered at tables, but the rain hammering the metal roof drowns out everything else.
I scan the room, looking for Stella. Though I don’t see her, something else makes me do a double take.
Three female Tiders are sitting at a table, the other five chairs filled with people from our camp. The Tiders are teaching them how to weave the baskets and mats they make. They soak a natural fiber similar to bamboo to make it pliable, and then use it to make baskets so airtight they can hold water. They also use the woven fibers for sleeping mats and rugs.
One of the Tiders at the table is Marcelle. She hasn’t noticed me. Georgie is trying to weave the fibers, and Marcelle gives her instructions. I’ve never seen Marcelle in an unguarded moment. She looks like a different person than the snarling hell beast I know.
“There you are.” Stella approaches me. “We couldn’t send fishing crews out in this weather. They didn’t want to sit in here so Pax took them to the farm. I guess they’re building new stalls.”
“Who’s with them?”
“That’s the thing. It’s just Wyatt and Chance. Chance’s aim is improving, but ... I don’t know, I feel like we’re too spread out.”
Chance’s left arm was amputated below the elbow after a jaguar attack, and he’s still learning to use weapons and fight with only one hand. He’s been training with a prosthetic Wyatt made him with a morning star in place of a hand. With Chance’s strength, the spiked metal ball would easily crush a skull if he wanted it to.
It’s hard to keep the Tiders and our camp guarded around the clock. We have thirty people on our two command and two security teams, and we’re running everyone hard. It takes sixteen people to keep our camp perimeter secure. Nova and Amira are doing perimeter shifts now. I have one in a few hours.
It’s impossible to see through the heavy rain, but we do our best. Hopefully it’s just as hard for Theron and the Rising Tide exiles to see us, too.
“I think Wyatt and Chance can handle it,” I say. “Pax will back them up if they need it.”
She huffs, aggravated. “He’s the least trustworthy one out of all of them. You’re naive for trusting him.”
I don’t respond because I don’t want to argue. I don’t fully trust Pax, but he saw me kill Dion and Grady for breaking a rule; he doesn’t want us to turn on their shield and kill every Tider in our camp, because he’d die, too.
“I’m putting him back to work,” Stella grumbles. “Why should the rest of us do guard duty in the pouring rain for hours on end when he’s doing nothing?”
I follow her gaze to Olin. He has many of the children—both our camp’s own and Rising Tide’s—gathered into a circle. The other caregivers are tending to the babies, which is a lot of work. Olin is keeping up with the kids who are old enough to sit and pay attention, and some of them are only two.
I smile when I see the kids making “Baby Shark” motions with their hands, Olin grinning as he leads them in the song. Thekids from our camp are laughing and smiling, but the Tider kids are stone-faced.
Except ... one of them is half smiling. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one of the Tider kids express any kind of emotion.
“Olin’s working harder than we are.” I give Stella a pointed look. “Leave him alone.”
“Nova can break the tie.”
I’m done with diplomacy. “Stella, he’s the only consistent thing those kids have had since the volcano erupted. For fuck’s sake, leave him alone.”
