The girl stops before us and points across the courtyard.
“There!” she says. “That building! The big old house. On the water. The Governor’s Mansion. That’s it! Good luck!” she cries, and turns and runs off in the other direction.
I sprint for the building, Logan right beside me.
We run across the massive field, thigh-deep in snow, on the lookout for slaverunners. Luckily, they aren’t on to us yet.
I feel the wind burning in my lungs. I think of Bree, being taken somewhere for sex, and I can’t possibly get there fast enough. I’m so close now. I can’t let her be hurt. Not now. Not after all this. Not when I’m only feet away.
I force myself forward, never stopping to catch a breath, even as the wind burns my lungs. I reach the front door and am not even cautious. I don’t stop to check, but just run into it and kick it open.
It bursts open and I continue running, right into the house. I don’t even know where I’m going, but I see a staircase and my instinct tells me to go upstairs. I run right for it, and I sense Logan right behind me.
As I reach the landing at the top of the steps, suddenly a slaverunner bursts out of a room, his mask off. He looks at me, eyes open wide in shock, and reaches for a gun.
I don’t hesitate. Mine is already out, and I raise it and shoot him point blank in the head. He goes down, the gunshot deafening in this contained area.
I continue to charge down the hallway and pick a random room. I kick the door open and am horrified to find a man inside, on a bed, having sex with a young girl, who is chained. It’s not Bree, but still, the site sickens me. The man-a slaverunner without his mask-jumps up, looking at me in fear, and scrambles for his gun-but I raise my gun and shoot him between the eyes. The little girl screams as his blood splats over her. At least he is dead.
I run back down the hall, kicking open doors as I go, room to room, each filled with another man having sex with a chained girl. I move on, searching frantically for Bree.
I reach the end of the hall and there is one final door. I kick it open, Logan behind me, and charge inside. As I do, I freeze.
A four-poster bed dominates the room. On it lies a large, fat naked man, having sex with a young girl, chained to his bed. This man must be important, because beside him sits a slaverunner, standing guard.
I aim for the fat man, and as he turns I shoot him once in the stomach. He crashes to the ground, grunting, and I shoot him a second time-this time, in the head.
But I’m reckless. The guard aims his gun at me, and I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s about to shoot. It was a stupid mistake: I should have taken him out first.
I hear a gunshot, and flinch.
Somehow, I am still alive. I look over and see that he is dead. Logan stands over him, gun drawn, and I realize the gunfire was Logan’s.
I look across the room and see, chained to the chairs, two young girls. They sit there, fully clothed, shaking with fear, clearly next in line to be brought to the bed. My heart soars, as I see that one of them is Bree.
Bree sits there, chained, terrified, eyes open wide. But she’s safe. Untouched. I made it just in time. A few more minutes and I’m sure she would have been at the mercy of that fat man.
“Brooke!” she screams, hysterical, and bursts into tears.
I run to her, kneeling down and hugging her. She hugs me back as best she can with the chains on, crying over my shoulder.
Logan appears and, having grabbed the key from the dead slaverunner’s belt, unlocks them both. Bree jumps into my arms, giving me a hug, her whole body shaking. She clings to me as if she’ll never let go.
I feel the tears pour down my cheeks as I hug her back. I can’t believe it: it’s really her.
“I told you I’d come back for you,” I say.
I want to hold her forever, but I know we haven’t time. Soon this place will be overrun.
I pull her back and take her hand. “Let’s go,” I say, preparing to run.
“Wait!” Bree yells, stopping.
I stop and turn.
“We have to bring Rose, too!” Bree says.
I look over and see the girl beside Bree looking up at us, so hopeless, so lost. It is odd, but she actually resembles Bree; with her long black hair and large brown eyes, the two of them could pass for sisters.
“Bree, I’m sorry, but we can’t. We don’t have time and-”
“Rose is my friend!” Bree yells. “We can’t just leave her. We can’t!”
I look at Rose, and my heart wells up at the sight. I look at Logan who looks back disapprovingly-but with a look that says it’s my call.
Bringing Rose will slow us down. And it will be another mouth to feed. But Bree, for the first time in her life, is insistent-and our standing here will only slow us down. Not to mention, Rose seems so sweet, and reminds me so much of Bree, and I can see how close they already are. And it is the right thing to do.
Against my better judgment, I say, “OK.”
The four of us burst out of the room, and as we do, we meet two guards, charging us, reaching for their guns. I react quickly, shooting one in the head, while Logan shoots the other. The girls scream at the gunshots.
I grab Bree’s hand and Logan grabs Rose’s and we sprint down the stairs, taking them two at a time. A moment later we burst out the house, into the blinding snow. I see guards charging us from across the yard, and only hope we can find a way off this island before we are completely overrun.
THIRTY-TWO
I look around frantically, trying to figure some way out of here. I scan for vehicles, but don’t see any. Then I turn around completely, and find myself scanning the water, the shoreline. And that’s when I see it: right behind the Governor’s mansion, tied up to a solitary pier is a small, luxury powerboat. I’m sure it is reserved for the privileged few who use this island as their plaything.
“There!” I say, pointing.
Logan turns and sees it, too, and a moment later, we sprint for the shoreline.
We run through the snow, down to the shore, right up to it. It is a beautiful, shining, motorboat, big enough to hold six people. It bobs wildly in the rough water and looks powerful, like a thing of luxury. I have a feeling that this boat was used by that fat, naked man having sex with those girls. All the more vindication.
It is bobbing so wildly, I don’t want to risk Bree and Rose trying to board themselves, so I lift Bree and place her into it, while Logan lifts Rose and places her in.
“Cut the rope!” Logan says, pointing.
I turn and see a thick rope tying it to a wooden pole, and run over to it, extract my knife and cut it. I run back to the boat and Logan is already standing inside, grasping the pier to keep it from floating away. He reaches out a hand and helps me down into it. I check over my shoulder and see a dozen slaverunners charging us. They are only twenty yards away, and closing in fast.
“I got them,” Logan says. “Take the wheel.”
I hurry over to the driver’s seat. Luckily, I’ve driven boats all my life. Logan shoves us off and takes a position at the back of the boat, kneeling and firing at the oncoming soldiers. They duck for cover, and it slows them down.
I jump into the driver’s seat and look down, and my heart drops to see there are no keys in the ignition. I check the dash, then check the front seats frantically, my heart pounding. What will we do if they aren’t here?
I look over my shoulder and see the slaverunners are closer now, barely ten yards away.
“Drive!” Logan screams, over the sound of his gunfire.
I get an idea and check the glove compartment, hoping. My heart soars to find them there. I insert them in the ignition, turn the keys, and it roars to life. Black exhaust comes gushing out, and the gas gauge pops all the way. A full tank.
I hit the throttle and am jerked backwards as the boat takes off. I can hear the bodies falling behind me, and
