[Anh Ngữ] World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2) - Susan Ee (English)

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 30:
​

Spoiler

HE LEAPS for Beliel and slaps his wings into him, clearly meaning to slash through him.
Beliel spins out of the way, partly avoiding the hit. He tosses a work lamp in Raffe’s direction.
The light crashes onto the pier. It flashes with a loose connection, lighting the fighters in a random strobe light.
Blood drips down Beliel’s sneering face and arms. “Admit it. You like the new wings. Why bother with fluffy and feathery when you can have freedom and power?”
“I could ask the same of you, Beliel.” Raffe stalks menacingly toward Beliel.
“I’ve had my life of freedom and rampaging. It’s time for a change. A little respectability. A little well-deserved admiration, don’t you think?” They circle each other like sharks getting ready to attack. Beliel’s limp is gone now that he’s lured Raffe.
“Respectability and admiration are beyond you,” says Raffe. “You’re nothing but a pathetic minion for angels.”
“I am not a minion!” His face turns red and furious. “I have never been a minion. Not for devils, not for angels, not for anybody!” The randomly flashing light highlights the stark shadows of his blood-streaked face.
Raffe leaps for Beliel again. But his motion is interrupted by a net falling on him from the night sky.
Raffe rolls on the pier, tangled in the net.
Get up, get up!
All the fight rages inside me. Can I watch as Raffe gets executed? Every fiber of my being chants, No, no, no.
What can I do? What can I do?
Raffe isn’t struggling against the net like I expected. Instead, he whisks open his wings. The scythe-like hooks on his wings snag the net.
Then his wings slice up, cutting the mesh.
It falls around him like a dropped veil as he leaps up, ready for a fight.
Scorpions drop out of the sky, a couple of them landing on Raffe. He ducks but their glancing blows shove him off balance.
Raffe’s wings, arms, and legs whip around him. Three scorpions go down, writhing in pain. That still leaves half a dozen more plus Beliel. As if that isn’t enough, three more land on the outskirts of the fight.
I pluck off my bear and pull out my sword, ready to dive in.
Mom grabs my shirt and yanks me so hard that I land on my butt like a little kid.
Luckily, Raffe seems to be able to hold his own. I doubt that he’s made peace with his new wings but he’s at least learned to control them better than the last time I saw him.
He’s also a fearless fighter. I hadn’t quite realized just how fierce he could be, but now that I think about it, this may be the first time I’ve seen him fight when it wasn’t immediately after a major injury. The sword’s memories only had him fighting with a sword, which was something to see, but this is more of a ferocious dance.
I’m sure Raffe hasn’t fully recovered yet, but he’s a wonder to watch. He’s fast. Faster than the scorpions that keep trying to sting him. A single scorpion is no more a match for him than a fire ant is to a person.
He’s far outnumbered, though. Yet, he doesn’t seem that concerned as he slowly slashes his way closer to Beliel.
Beliel gets the picture and takes off into the night sky. Apparently, his evil health plan covers wing injuries because his wings seem to work just fine.
Raffe takes off after him.
I watch him get farther from me. He never even knew I was near.
He disappears into the darkness like a fading dream.
I stare at the sky where he vanished for longer than I probably should.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 31:​

Spoiler

THE SCORPIONS hesitate before the first ones leave the ground. I assume they’re flying after Raffe, but I’m not entirely sure. There’s a certain reluctance to the way they take off. Almost half of them stay on the ground, looking at each other, unsure.
These have to be the worst minions ever. Whatever was bred into them, courage wasn’t on the list. No wonder Beliel had to fight off Raffe for so long before the scorpions arrived.
Eventually, all the ones who can take off do. Half a dozen are left bleeding and dead on the splintered dock, while a few writhe and hiss in pain beside them. They don’t look like they’re capable of much harm any more, but I keep a close eye on them, just in case.
Mom lets out a deep sigh beside me. Clara, though, still seems to be frozen in fear. She’s probably going through some post-traumatic stress issues right now after seeing so many scorpions.
It’s time for us to get out of here. Somewhere safe for the night where we can cook up some crazy scheme to rescue Paige. But even I can’t stir up much enthusiasm for nutty schemes right now.
I am just a girl. I am no match for these monsters. They may have looked weak compared to Raffe, and I may have felt like an equal in some ways during my journey with him, but after seeing what I just saw, reality sinks in.
It would be suicide to sneak onto Alcatraz Island. It’s crawling with these monsters and there’s no way of getting back out.
Despite my erratic behavior, both Mom and Clara still depend on me to decide the timing of our exit out of here. We’re in the shadows and should have a decent shot of making it out unnoticed.
I listen for enemies and monsters. All I hear are the terrified sobs of the people locked in the container. The sounds are muffled now, probably to avoid attention, but the captives can’t seem to stop themselves.
The container lights up with the intermittent flashes of the work lamp lying on the ground. Behind the rollup gate, the prisoners crowd together, giving me an impression of despair and grime every time the light flashes.
I get ready to sprint from the pile of crates we’re hiding behind. But I can’t seem to leave. My eyes keep drifting over to the people locked in the container.
In theory, it would be a no-brainer to run over and let them out. It would only take a couple of minutes to free a bunch of people from whatever horrors await them.
If I had the key.
Beliel hung it on one of the lamps but now, I’m not sure which of the two lamps he used. If it was on the one he threw at Raffe, it could take an hour to find it.
I close my eyes, trying to shut out the sights and sounds of the prisoners. I need to concentrate on Paige and Mom. I can’t just be distracted by everybody who needs help, because we all need help now. Desperately.
I glance at Mom and see the terror on her face. She’s moving her lips silently and rocking back and forth. These are real monsters straight out of her nightmares. Clara is looking even worse, if that’s possible.
I need to get up and get us out of here. I need to take care of my own people.
A heartbroken, terrified sob reaches across the pier and grabs me.
I try to ignore it.
But I can’t.
That could have been Paige before those angel monsters got to her. It’s almost certainly someone else’s sister, daughter, or mom. And wouldn’t it have been a wonder if someone out there could have helped Paige the way I could help these people?
Ugh. Why can’t I shut down that stupid thought?
Yeah, all right already.
I get up from my crouch. Worry and fear intensify in my mother’s face when she sees me eyeing the path to the prisoners. I don’t have to worry about her following me. Sometimes, being paranoid really does save your life.
There’s certainly no chance Clara will follow me. She has excellent reasons to be petrified of the scorpions. But along with the fear, there’s something in her eyes I didn’t expect.
Pride.
She expects me to rescue them. She still thinks I’m a stupid hero. A part of her would be disappointed if I just walk away.
That almost makes me abandon the whole idea.
But, of course, I don’t.
I dash out from the relative safety of the darker shadows.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 32:​

Spoiler

THE INJURED scorpions notice me right away. My heart practically stops when they turn and hiss at me.
I can almost feel the excruciating pain of the sting, the panic of losing control of my body while still conscious. The thought of having to go through that again makes me run so hard I think I might pass out.
In my freaked-out state, I don’t pay enough attention to my footing and I slip on blood.
I catch myself from falling by doing an awkward dance of hand and sword balancing.
Focus.
Do not let the scorpions hurt you twice just because you’re freaking over the possibility.
I shove everything—fear, hope, thoughts—into the vault in my head and slam the door shut before they explode back out. It’s getting trickier to open that vault door.
The only thing in the world now is my path to the prisoners’ container. I rub the sole of my shoe on the ground to wipe off the blood.
For all their hissing and screeching, the injured scorpions stay down. I keep an eye on them to make sure they’re not crawling toward me.
Before I walk into the circle of light, I look around to make sure there are no scorpions, angels, or winged rats headed my way. It doesn’t help that my eyes are already adjusting to the light, making the shadows that much darker.
I dive into the light like I’m jumping into water.
I feel instantly exposed.
Anyone on the pier can see me now. I run as fast as I can to the still-standing light by the metal jail. All the prisoners quiet down as if holding their collective breaths.
The key is not on the standing work light or anywhere near it.
I look back at the flashing lamp that Beliel threw on the pier. The key could have flown off anywhere.
Either I commit to looking for it in this sea of splintered planks, or I give up and make sure Mom and Clara get out of here safely.
Or, I could see if my sword can cut through metal.
It easily cut through bones during my dream training, and it’s supposed to be so special. Before I can think about it, I lift the sword and slice down.
The blade easily cuts through the lock and the gate’s metal tab.
Whoa.
Not bad.
I lift my sword for the second lock. But before I can cut it, there’s a rustling behind me.
I spin with my sword still above me, half-convinced an injured scorpion has crawled over, ready to strike.
But it’s not an injured scorpion.
It’s a healthy one.
It folds its gossamer wings as if it just landed. It stalks toward me, barefoot on its much too human-like feet. Somehow, I might feel better if they had clawed feet or something else that made them look less human.
Two more scorpion angels land behind the first one.
There’s only one more lock. I spin around and chop at it with my blade.
It comes flying off. The chain-link gate hangs open now. All they have to do is roll it up and run.
Instead, the prisoners huddle in the back, frozen in terror.
“Come on!” I slam on the side of the container to shock them into action. “Run!”
I don’t wait to see if they do. I’ve just put Mom and Clara in danger of a horrifying death. I could kick myself for not convincing them to leave without me.
The gate rattles behind my back.
The freed prisoners begin to run, scattering everywhere, their footsteps pounding on the wooden pier.
I run in the opposite direction of Mom and Clara, hoping to draw the scorpions away from them.
Then I hear my mother.
She screams a bloodcurdling screech of terror.

​

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 33:​

Spoiler

EVERYONE SPREADS OUT, instinctively heading in different directions.
There are only a few monsters and a lot of us. There’s a good chance that some of us will get away.
I run toward a mass of shadows where a pink ice cream sign sticks out of a pile of broken planks. If I can get around it, I might be able to disappear into the jagged shadows.
But before I get there, something smacks my head and drapes over me.
I’m tangled in a net.
My first thought is to slice through it with my sword but I’m now surrounded by the people who were running behind me and there isn’t enough room. The more we thrash, the more entangled we get.
Shadows fall out of the sky. Shadows with insect wings and curling stingers.
They drop in random places. One on top of the shipping container, making a hollow boom. Several land in front of the old row of shops where half a dozen people were heading before a net came down on them too.
Five, ten, twenty. So many that it starts to sound like we’re in a hive.
We’re trapped.
Everyone is sobbing again. This time, the despair is so thick I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Even if I could cut through the netting, I couldn’t cut my way through all these scorpions. I slide my sword back into its scabbard to make it less noticeable.
The net stinks of fish. At first, I don’t think we can walk with it on us, but one of the scorpions grabs the edge of our net and pulls a drawstring. We bunch together as the edge closes around our legs.
The scorpion yanks us along in our net trap like it’s pulling a dog on a leash. Its stinger aims for us, hovering just within striking zone. Another scorpion walks beside us, making it clear by the rhythmic jabbing of its stinger that we should do what it wants.
I frantically look for Mom and Clara, hoping against all odds that I won’t see them.
But there they are, only two netted groups away from me. My mother clutches my teddy bear to her bosom like it’s her long-lost baby, while Clara clutches Mom’s arm like she’ll die if she lets go. They both look petrified.
I feel sick.
Sick from fear. Sick from anger. Sick from the stupidity of what I’ve done.
I came here for my sister and instead I’ve gotten myself recklessly caught. Worse, I’ve gotten Mom and Clara caught too. And looking at the large number of captives on the pier, I didn’t even free anyone either.
Several groups of netted humans converge as we’re herded toward the water. At first, I assume the scorpions are taking us to a new shipping container, but instead of a holding cell, they move us toward a boat.
“Brian!” A young woman under my net reaches her hand out to a guy trapped under another as our two groups get closer.
“Lisa!” the guy calls to her with desperation. They strain against the mesh and stretch their arms as far as they’ll go to try to touch each other.
For a second, they manage to brush fingertips.
Then our group moves past theirs, breaking their touch. The woman starts sobbing, her hand still reaching for him.
Another group gets shoved in front of Brian and he disappears into the crowd, still reaching for her.
THE BOAT is two stories high and has seen better days. The paint is so scraped that I’m convinced the boat must have been lying on its side on the roof of a ruined building before the bad guys put it to use. Somehow, it still manages to float. And it still sports the words “Captain Jake’s Alcatraz Tours” in blue, although with all the scratches, it looks more like “Alcatraz ours.”
The engine starts and we’re treated to a dark plume of exhaust. The smell of gas pollutes the air almost immediately. A human minion must be running the boat. I kind of hope it’s not Captain Jake.
Everyone gets jostled and shoved toward the boat. Scorpions begin releasing us from the nets. We have no place to run, of course, not if we want to live a few more minutes.
As the first captives begin boarding, I manage to get close enough to Mom and Clara for us to shuffle together. Mom hands me the stuffed bear like she’s been keeping it safe for me.
I slip the bear onto my sword, disguising it again. I have wild hopes of being able to take it with me and maybe using my fledgling skills to get us out of this mess.
My hopes are dashed when I see that weapons are being taken from prisoners as they board. There’s a growing pile of stuff on the dock by the boat ramp. Axes, spiked bats, tire irons, machetes, knives, and even a few guns. I would still have hope if the pile only had weapons but it also includes purses, backpacks, dolls, and yes, even stuffed animals.
There are grim-faced people—humans—taking these things from the prisoners. They don’t talk and they don’t look anyone in the eye. They just grab whatever is semi-visible on the prisoners and toss the objects onto the pile.
I stroke my bear, wondering if this is my best chance at escape. Even if I couldn’t get away, maybe I could cause enough of a distraction so that Mom and Clara could. We’re in the brief window of time when I still have my sword and we’re no longer trapped in a net so it’s now or never.
A gunshot explodes so close that we all duck.
A man who apparently didn’t want to give up his gun holds it still pointed at one of the women minions who is now bleeding on the ramp. He is instantly surrounded by scorpions with their stingers. Their fangs are so close to his face that I’m sure he can smell their breath.
He trembles so badly that he actually drops his gun and a spreading wetness stains the front of his pants.
The scorpions don’t attack the shooter, though. It’s as if they’re waiting for something.
“Here, take her knife,” says another human minion. His face is lined with grief, his eyes half-dead and shell-shocked. He grabs a kitchen knife out of a prisoner’s hand and gives it to the shooter. “Now, toss it into that pile.”
The shooter’s arm spastically jerks the knife onto the pile. He looks so frightened that he probably never considered stabbing one of the scorpions with it.
The scorpions hiss and back off, moving to patrol the crowd again.
We were all so riveted by the drama that none of us thought to escape while it was happening. So much for causing a distraction to let Mom and Clara get away.
The shooter replaces the minion that he shot as he takes weapons and bags from the other prisoners. He doesn’t make eye contact and he doesn’t say a word. He does occasionally sneak a glance at the woman he shot who is dying at his feet.
After that, there are no more incidents as everyone gets on the boat.
When one of the minions reaches for my bear-disguised sword, I have to force myself to lift the strap over my shoulder and place it on the pile myself. It takes all my willpower to do it, since a part of me wants to yank it out and chop up a few scorpions. But there must be twenty, maybe thirty of them here.
I slip the scabbard into the bottom of the pile, trying to hide as much of it as possible. Someone will eventually find it. What happens after that is anyone’s guess.
Mom and Clara pull me up and along with them. I guess I looked like I didn’t want to leave it behind. I glance back at the silly teddy bear partially buried under a pile of weapons and bags and can’t help but think that maybe I’ll never see Raffe or his sword again.
Behind me, the woman who reached for her lover cries softly.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 34:​

Spoiler

THE WATER slaps onto the boat’s side while the deck rolls back and forth. We shuffle onto the ship, and before long, we’re gliding through the dark waters.
Alcatraz is legendary for being the most inescapable jail of all time. Just the sight of it in the dim light makes me want to run away. I think about diving into the water with Mom and Clara and taking our chances, but others beat me to it.
A couple runs for it. It’s Brian and Lisa, the couple who had been separated by the nets. My heart races with hope that they’ll make it. We’re not so far off that they can’t swim to the other side, freezing or not.
But the scorpions are fast.
So fast that three of them zap their stingers to tag the couple on their way out the doors.
They don’t chase them though. They just let the pair make their own choices. It takes time to become paralyzed, but I know the excruciating pain and stiffness starts immediately. By the time the couple reaches the edge of the boat, they’re dragging their feet.
It would be suicide to jump. They’ll be paralyzed long before they can reach shore.
But the other option is to stay frozen among the scorpions, completely at their mercy.
Tough choice. I really feel for them. I’m not sure which I’d choose.
They choose to stay on board. Brian leans against the rail as if thinking about jumping, but he can’t seem to commit. Lisa lays her head down on the deck beside him.
I understand. Anyone who is alive now is a survivor. They’ve done what it takes to make it this far, and they can’t help but keep going. Brian slides down the rail and lies beside Lisa, twitching and losing control of his muscles. The scorpions mostly ignore the couple, seemingly bored as they leap off the boat to fly while others land on deck and walk around.
A scorpion bends over and plucks Brian’s glasses off his face. It tries to put them on upside down. When they fall, the scorpion picks them back up and tries again. As if it wasn’t already weird-looking enough with a man’s body, dragonfly wings, and a scorpion tail. Now, it looks around with one cracked lens on its wire-rimmed glasses.
I feel oddly naked without my sword. I keep reaching for the soft fur of my stuffed bear and remember that it’s not there any more. I sit between Mom and Clara, three unarmed women surrounded by monsters.
Just a couple of months ago, tourists sat this boat with cameras and phones, taking photos, yelling at their kids, kissing in front of the city skyline. They probably roamed around in their newly bought sweatshirts, totally unprepared for the cold summer winds of San Francisco.
Now, there are hardly any children and none of them are running around. There are only a couple of older folks mixed in with the others, and only a quarter of the crowd is women. Everyone looks like they’ve gone too long without a shower or a good meal, and all our attention is focused on the scorpions.
They leave us alone for now. Most of them are not as beefy and broad-shouldered as I imagined monsters would be. Some of them are outright scrawny. They’re not made to muscle their prey. They’re designed to use their stingers as their main weapon of choice.
They all have tails that look like they’ve been on steroids. Fat and muscular, unnaturally bulging, and grotesque. If I look closely, I can see a clear drop of venom at the tip of each stinger, as if keeping the pipes in working order.
One of the scorpions wears a pair of pants. But the pants are on backwards and hanging with the zipper open to allow for the tail. There’s something about it that bothers me but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
As the scorpion pulls up its pants with its all-too-human-looking hand, something glints. My stomach clenches in sick dread as I realize what it is.
It’s a wedding band.
What is a wedding band doing on a monster’s hand?
It must be just some shiny thing that it got from one of its victims. Like an animal playing with a toy. Or maybe it discovered that rings were good for hitting, like brass knuckles.
Yeah, that must be it.
And it’s pure coincidence that it’s on the ring finger.
IN A FEW MINUTES, Alcatraz looms in the dim light. I lean back as if I could make the boat slow down. By the time we land, I’m trembling all over.
My imagination keeps wandering to what might happen to us here. I try to corral it back, but I’m not entirely successful at it.
The island seems to be a giant rock. The water is probably hypothermia-cold, not to mention filled with sharks or thrashing scorpions or toothy demons from hell.
So this is how it all ends.
The world destroyed, humans imprisoned, my family scattered.
The thought makes me angry. I hope the anger burns up all other feelings because it’s probably the only thing keeping me on my feet and moving right now.
A lot of the prisoners are cringing and sobbing, not wanting to come out of the boat. People and animals aren’t that different. We can all tell when we’re being led to slaughter.
The island dock is similar to the one on the mainland—spiky, dark, damp. The cold bay winds blow through my shirt, giving me goose bumps. I’m colder than the temperature calls for. I brace myself to face what’s coming.
But nothing can prepare me for what’s happening beyond the dock.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 35:​

Spoiler

SPOTLIGHTS BLAZE along the buildings, lighting up the walkway as we trudge onto the island. Everywhere I look, I see stone and concrete. Peeling paint and rust stains drip down the walls of the nearest building.
Four scorpions work near a shipping container that has a chain mesh gate like the one on the mainland.
They grab glossy entrails and body parts from buckets and toss them onto the concrete. The gore lands just out of reach of the trapped humans in the metal container.
The stench is unbearable. These people have been trapped in that cage for way longer than I want to know. I can tell not just by their stench but also by the fact that they are stretching their emaciated arms to try to grab the entrails and chopped-up body parts just out of their reach.
These people make sobbing, groaning noises. Nothing aggressive, just desperate. Their arms are too skinny, like they’re already dead but don’t quite realize it yet.
They can’t be meant to be turned into new monsters or even to be fed to them. They’re too abused, too underfed. How hungry would you have to be to reach out for raw, chopped body parts?
“Stupid as dirt in so many ways,” says a familiar voice. “But they still have the devious, twisted instincts of humans.”
It’s Beliel, the demon. His stolen white wings spread out behind him, a heavenly backdrop to his oversized body. He stands behind the scorpions who are tossing the chopped-up gore that’s plopping onto the ground.
A heart gets tossed onto a broken board, snagging on a giant splinter.
Beside Beliel stands an angel whose toffee-colored hair and gray feathers are windblown. He wears a light gray suit that quietly conveys taste and elegance.
Even without his trophy girls, I recognize Archangel Uriel, the politician. He’s the one who secretly orchestrated Raffe’s wing switch to keep him from being a competitive candidate in the upcoming angels’ election. As if that wasn’t enough to make me despise him, he likes to walk around with matching girls who are terrified of him.
“Are you referring to the locusts or their toys?” Uriel’s wings spread out partially behind him like a body halo. In the soft light of the aerie hotel, his feathers looked off-white with a touch of gray, but now in the harsh light of the utility lights, his wings look gray with a touch of midnight.
Locusts?
“The locusts,” says Beliel. “The humans are stupid as rocks, too. But they’re too tortured to use instinctive ingenuity. The locusts thought this game up themselves, you know. I was impressed. As devious as any demon from hell.” He sounds almost proud.
He must mean the scorpion monsters. I always imagined locusts to look like grasshoppers, not scorpions, so I don’t know why he calls them that.
“You’re sure the ones you trained will teach the others?”
“Who can tell, eh? Their judgment is clouded, their brains have shrunk, they’re probably insane from the metamorphosis. Hard to predict what they’ll do, but this batch did get extra attention and do seem more capable than the rest. They’re as close to a leader group as you’ll get.”
A scorpion with a white streak in its hair gets tired of the game and walks up to the container of humans. The forest of skeletal arms withdraws back through the chain mesh. The captives’ feet scrape the metal floor as they shuffle away from the monster.
The scorpion stands tall in front of the dim interior. Then he tosses a bit of gore into the cage.
The night is instantly filled with metallic scuffling, animal grunting, and half-screams of frustration and desperation.
The people inside are fighting each other for the bloody scraps. For all I know, it could have been one of their own who got dragged out and turned into torture bait.
“See what I mean?” Beliel sounds like a proud papa.
I pick up my pace, wanting to get past the container as soon as possible. But the others move at the same speed, careful not to draw attention to themselves.
My arm is clamped in a viciously tight grip and I’m yanked so hard that my neck feels like it’s about to snap. A scorpion with greasy hair dripping down to its shoulders pulls me out of the herd.
The white-streaked one who threw the body parts to the prisoners looks at me, interest lighting its face. It walks over to me.
Up close, its shoulders and thighs are massive. It grabs me out of the first scorpion’s grasp and drags me behind it, holding both my wrists in one hand.
It’s headed for the torture container with its desperate victims.
Skeletal arms reach through the metal mesh with their unnaturally long fingers.
I can’t get enough air into my lungs and what I do manage to breathe in makes me gag. The stench up close is ferocious.
I skid on something lumpy and slippery, but the monster’s grip is so tight that I stay upright.
My heart has practically stopped with the realization that I won’t be going up to the stone building, but instead, will be joining the tortured victims.
I drag my feet and resist. I struggle, trying to loosen one of the monster’s hands. But I’m no match for its strength.
A couple of steps before the opening, the scorpion throws me up against the metal mesh.
I slam into it, grabbing the chains to keep myself upright.
The second I hit, the darker shadows in the back of the box scuffle toward me.
Hunched with sharp angles accentuating arms and legs, rags dragging on the floor, they shove each other out of the way to reach me as fast as they can.
A scream tears from my mouth as I frantically push myself back.
Arms reach out like a forest of bones sprouting through the chain mesh.
They grab my hair, my face, my clothes.
I thrash and scream, trying not to see their skeletal faces, their mangy hair, their bloodied nails.
I twist and yank, desperate to get out of their grasp. There are a lot of them, but they’re weak, barely standing on their feet as I pull away.
White Streak makes a series of screechy noises that sound suspiciously like a laugh. It thinks this is funny.
It grabs me and drags me toward the stream of people coming from the ferry.
It never intended to dump me into the torture bin. It just wanted to tease the prisoners and, I guess, me.
I’ve never looked forward to killing anything before. But I’m certainly looking forward to killing this one.
WE WALK UP the paved path toward the main building, which sits at the top of the island. Above us, swarms of scorpions fly in what looks like massive chaos. There are so many of them, they actually create wind that blows in unnaturally changing directions. I know from what I saw earlier that there’s a practice pattern to their flight, but from here, it looks and feels as if we’re in the middle of a giant insect’s nest.
There’s not a regular angel in sight. This can’t be their new aerie. From what I’ve seen, angels prefer the finer things in life, and Alcatraz isn’t exactly a high-class resort. This must be some kind of human processing center.
I look around to see how Clara and Mom are doing. Clara is easy to spot with her jerky skin and shriveled body but my mother is nowhere to be found. When Clara sees me searching, she looks around too, seemingly surprised to find that my mom is not beside her.
No one seems to be looking for a missing prisoner. I’m not sure if this is good or bad.
I can’t hear a thing beyond the insect buzzing of the scorpion wings, but our guards make it clear where they want us to go. We climb toward the stone building on the giant rock that is Alcatraz, following the path walked by so many prisoners of the past.
The weird wind whipsaws my hair all around my head, reflecting what I feel inside.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 36:​

Spoiler

ONCE WE enter the building, the noise and wind quiet down. Instead, there’s a low moan that echoes off the walls. Not just the moan of one person but the collective moans of a building full of people.
I am in hell.
I’ve heard about the horrid conditions of some foreign prisons, places where human rights are a distant dream seen only on television or read about by university students. What I didn’t realize is that the guards, the awful conditions, and being trapped are only part of the hell.
The rest of it is in your head. The stuff you imagine about the screams you hear from parts unknown. The image you make up of the face of the woman who cries non-stop a few cells from you. The story you piece together incorporating the gurgling, clanging, and the high-pitched sound of what can only be some kind of electric sawing.
We’re crammed into old prison cells decorated with rust and streaky paint. Only, they don’t hold one or two of us per cell the way they were designed to. It’s standing room only.
Good thing the cot takes up space, otherwise, the scorpions probably would have crushed more of us in here. As it is, a few of us can sit on the cot at a time, which lets the injured take a break and will come in handy when we’re calm enough to rotate for sleep.
As if this place isn’t hellish enough, an alarm goes off at random intervals, echoing through the building and putting us all on edge. Also, every few hours, a group of us gets marched down the hallway, which is even more nerve-wracking.
No one seems to know what happens to those who are taken away, but none of them come back. The guards who escort these groups are a couple of humans with a couple of scorpions as backup. The human guards are stoic and talk as little as possible, which makes them even scarier.
Over these fear cycles, I lose track of time as I doze in and out. I don’t know if we’ve been here for hours or days.
When a door clanks, we know another group is leaving.
As they march past us, I recognize a few of the faces. One is the father who was separated from his son. His eyes search frantically for his boy among those of us left behind bars. When he finds him, tears stream down his face.
The boy is in the cell across from mine. The other prisoners gather around him as he shakes with tears, watching his father march away from him.
One of the men starts to sing “Amazing Grace” in a beautiful, deep baritone. It’s a song whose words many of us don’t know, including me, but we all recognize it in our hearts. I hum along with everyone else as the doomed group walks past us.
CIGARETTES. Who knew they’d be such a problem at the end of the world?
There are a few smokers in our cell, and one of them passed them around. We’re jammed together so no matter how hard the smokers try, they can’t help but blow into someone’s face. In California, you might as well spit on someone as blow smoke on them.
“Seriously, can you please put that out?” a guy asks. “Don’t you think it’s bad enough in here without you polluting the air?”
“Sorry. If there was ever a time when I needed a cigarette, this is it.” The woman squashes out her cigarette against the wall. “A double latte sounds great too.”
Two other prisoners continue smoking. One of them has tattoos on his shoulders and along his arms. The designs are intricate and colorful and were clearly done in the World Before.
There were gangs here in the Bay Area before the angels came. Not many and they stayed in their small territories, but they were here. They’re probably the reason the street gangs grew so fast. They were already organized and established. They were the first to take over the stores and then they started recruiting.
My is that this guy was one of the original gang members. He gives off an air of the ‘hood that Silicon Valley engineers just can’t copy, regardless of what they’ve done on the streets in the past couple of months.
“What you worried about, vegan boy?” asks Mr. Tattoo. “Lung cancer?” He leans over to the other guy and fake-coughs in his face, exploding smoke all over him.
Everybody tenses up. People shift out of his way, but they can’t get far. We’re trapped so closely that if there’s a fight, we’re all going down. It’d be like being caught in a blender. No matter what you do, you can’t help but get sucked in.
As if the tension isn’t thick enough, the alarm goes off again, scraping our nerves.
You’d think that if there was a real gang member in the group, everyone else would back off. But you’d be wrong.
The valley isn’t just filled with mild-mannered, smart engineers. According to my dad, who was once a mild-mannered engineer before he became the most educated convenience store clerk around, the valley is peppered with high-risk, high-octane CEOs and venture capitalists with mega-alpha personalities. Movers and shakers. Entrepreneurs on speed. The kind that the President of the United States came to visit for dinner.
Now, we live in a world where those Ivy-league-educated mega-alphas are jammed up behind bars with the likes of street-schooled gang members like Mr. Tattoo, arguing over who has the right to smoke. Welcome to the World After.
Mr. Alpha is a big, blond, thirty-something guy who probably worked out regularly back when gyms were worth visiting. I’ll he has a charming smile when he wants, but right now, he looks like his nerves have been stretched about a foot farther than they can go, and the only thing keeping him from breaking is his sheer willpower.
“I’m allergic to cigarette smoke,” says Alpha. “Look, we all need to work together to survive this.” He grinds out the words between his teeth, clearly trying to keep things cool.
“So I should put out my goddamn smoke for you? Piss off. No one’s allergic to smoke. They just don’t like it.” Tattoo takes a deep drag off his cigarette.
The third smoker quietly stubs out his cigarette, looking like he hopes no one notices him.
“Put the cigarette out!” There’s real command in Alpha’s voice that can be heard even over the shrieking alarm. This is a guy who’s used to being heard. A guy who used to matter.
Tattoo flicks his still-glowing stub at Alpha. For a moment, everyone relaxes. But then Tattoo pulls out a fresh cigarette and lights it.
The alarm shuts off but the plunge into silence feels worse.
Alpha’s face and neck turn a bright red. He shoves the other guy, looking like he doesn’t care if he gets beat to a twitching pulp. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe this is an easier out for him than what the angels have in store for us.
The problem is, he’s making that decision for the rest of us too. A fight in a cell the size of a coffin means a whole lot of injuries for everyone at a time when we can’t afford to have any.
People start backing up.
I’m in the front corner, beside Clara. Bodies are already jostling us against the bars. If the panic gets aimed this way, we could be crushed against the metal bars. We won’t be killed but bones could be broken. Not a good time for broken bones.
In the center of the cell, Mr. Tattoo whales on Alpha. Alpha, though, is not to be underestimated.
He grabs a guy’s jacket and swings the bottom of the zipper at Tattoo’s eyes. It hits a woman in the face.
Tattoo swings his arm back for a sloppy hit and his elbow smacks into an old man’s neck.
The man falls back into Clara, making her bang her head against the bars. I’m trying to mind my own business, but this is not going to end well for any of us.
I weave my way to the fighters and grab Tattoo’s shoulders.
I jam my knee into the back of his. I’m careful to make sure that I shove his knee straight forward so that I don’t knock it out. A broken knee in our situation is a death sentence.
As he collapses down to my height, I pull his shoulders toward me and grab his head in a sleeper hold. I grip his forehead with one arm and clamp his neck with the other.
I squeeze my arms, letting him know I mean it. I’m not trying to choke off his air. Choking off the blood to his brain is faster. He has three to five seconds before he loses consciousness.
“Relax,” I say. He instantly does. This man has been in enough fights to know when it’s over.
Alpha boy, on the other hand, doesn’t know when to stop. By the look of his bulging eyes and crimson face, his fear and frustration are still slamming around inside him. He swings his leg back, kicking someone else in the process, and gets ready to kick Tattoo like a soccer ball as I hold him.
“You land that kick and I swear to God I’ll let him eat you alive.” I lower my voice and try to sound as commanding as I can. But Mr. Tattoo is most likely thinking about how skinny and short my arms are. It’s probably registering right about now that my voice is female.
I’ll be in a world of hurt if I don’t establish control while he’s on his knees. Because when he’s towering over me and looking down at the top of my head, he might start getting ideas.
So I do something I would never do in the World Before.
Even though he gave in, I choke him out anyway. His body crumples to the floor, head listing.
He’ll be out for a few seconds, just long enough for me to take care of Alpha boy. And when these two come back to their senses, lying helpless on the floor with me towering above them, they’ll get the message loud and clear: I am dominant here. You live or die at my mercy and I say when you fight and when you don’t.
It all sounds good in my head.
Only it doesn’t play out that way.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 37:​

Spoiler

I’M  ABOUT to grab Alpha when we’re hit by a force so hard I can only describe it as a cannon full of ice pellets pounding into us. The force slams me back against the wall. But unlike a cannon shot, it doesn’t stop.
It takes me a second to realize that it’s a bruising spray of water shooting from a fire hose. So icy and intense, it freezes the air in my lungs.
When it finally stops, I am a battered piece of wet cloth lying limp on the floor.
Rough hands grab my arms, and I’m jerked up and dragged out of the cell. In my strained fight for air, I vaguely notice that men with grim faces also drag out Tattoo and Alpha.
I stagger up so that I’m shuffling beside my captors. It’s better than having my arms pulled out of their sockets. Once it’s clear that I’ll walk without resisting, one of the guys lets go of me and helps the two pulling Tattoo. He’s become conscious and is struggling in fear and confusion.
My guard walks up to Tattoo and slams a punch into his belly while the other two guards hold him still. I cringe in sympathy. After that, we all shuffle down the center hall without resistance.
The guards lead us into a brick passageway with peeling paint, and we pass through a metal door. A faded sign says:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
The door opens to a narrow stairwell that makes a hollow metallic clang as we walk down. The space below feels industrial, almost factory-like. A lattice of giant water droplets hangs from the ceiling almost to the floor.
As we get closer, I get a better look. There are things curled inside the water droplets.
People.
Naked and curled in fetal positions. Unconscious and suspended in the water.
There’s something familiar and horrifying about them.
I keep expecting to see one sucking his thumb or twitching but none of them are actually doing those things.
“What’s this?” asks a man in the middle of the room, glancing our way. He wears a flannel shirt over jeans and holds a clipboard in his hand. With curly brown hair and hazel eyes, he looks like a college student doing research. I’d assume he’d be an okay guy in any other setting except this one.
“Troublemakers,” says my guard.
“Take them to the back,” says the distracted man with the clipboard. “The last row could use a little help.”
Tattoo, who is now walking on his own without causing trouble, is the first to be led into the field of water droplets. Alpha’s guard pulls him along next. Until now, my guard has let me walk on my own without touching me. Now, he grips my arm as if afraid I’ll make a run for it.
“Which ones, Doc?” asks my guard.
“Any of them will do so long as they’re in the last row,” says Doc as he walks past us toward an office with a window overlooking the droplets.
We enter the water-droplet matrix. The first row contains people.
As we walk to the back of the room, the people inside the droplets begin to change. It’s like seeing a time-lapsed video of fetal development.
By a third of the way into the matrix, they have tails.
By halfway back, they’ve started to grow gossamer wings.
By two-thirds of the way, they look recognizably like scorpion monsters.
The cavernous room is filled with scorpions in various stages of development.
Hundreds of them.
And they all start from humans.
When we reach the last row, the scorpions look fully formed, complete with hair down to their shoulders and teeth that have gone from human’s to lion’s teeth. The ones in this last row are shifting, alert, and watching as we approach.
This lab is several generations ahead of what I saw in the aerie basement. It’s more systematic, with the fetuses looking more robust and dangerous. How many of these scorpion factories are there?
Tattoo begins struggling against his guards again. There are three of them, and for all his muscles and attitude, Tattoo’s fighting skills are sloppy and untrained.
He yanks his guards, the muscles on his neck and arms straining against their hold. The guards are about to shove him into a droplet when he jerks unexpectedly, knocking one of the guard’s elbows into the droplet.
The thing in the water moves so fast I’m not sure what’s happening.
One second, the guard is holding Tattoo’s shoulder as his elbow breaches the water.
The next second, the guard is halfway into the droplet with his legs kicking the air and the water turning bloody.
We all stare in awe as the guard defies gravity—and I don’t know how many other laws of physics—by hanging there, partway in, partway out. Inside the droplet, the monster pumps venom into the guard’s neck while it sucks on his face. Clouds of blood swirl around them in the impossible droplet that somehow maintains its shape and contains the liquid despite being punctured by the guard’s body.
Tattoo’s eyes are huge as he realizes what’s in store for him. He looks at me and Alpha. He probably sees the same expression in our faces.
After him, we’re next.
Alpha nods to Tattoo like they’ve just agreed on something. I guess there’s nothing like a grisly impending death to make people overlook their differences. They grab one of the remaining guards still holding Tattoo. Ganging up, they shove his head into another droplet.
The scorpion in the droplet slithers around in the water to latch onto him. The guard frantically pulls back, instinctively pushing his hands against the droplet for leverage.
His hands slip right into the water.
Then, he can’t get them out either.
His back, neck, and arms strain to pull himself out.
His feet slide forward. But not an inch of him comes back out from the droplet.
The guard begins convulsing. Every muscle of his body trembles with his muffled scream as he pushes desperately against the scorpion fetus.
I can’t look any more.
The rest of the guards, no longer outnumbering us, run. Two run to the back door while my guard runs in the other direction.
The gurgling of the bubbles and scuffling of the victim’s shoes against the floor grates against my raw emotions. But before long, both victims quiet down as they become paralyzed.
The place is suddenly too quiet.
“Now what?” asks Tattoo. Despite his muscles, he looks like a lost little boy.
We all look around at the forest of monsters suspended in droplets.
“We get out of here,” says Alpha.
The hissing of a scorpion comes from the back door.
We run through the matrix toward the front stairs, careful not to bump into any of the droplets.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 38:​

Spoiler

A RUMBLING echoes through the cavernous room. Rows of droplets sway, threatening to fall. I hate to think about what will happen if they drop. In my mind, the water is already splashing on the floor and the monster fetuses are uncurling as we run past.
The structure on the ceiling that dangles the rows of droplets slowly shifts back. Is that water splashing behind us or is that my imagination?
The matrix moves back one row, then stops.
The eerie feeling of running through transparent wombs makes me feel even more surreal as the scorpion fetuses change in every row back to humans. By the time we reach the new first row of empty droplets, a hollow clanging of footsteps echoes down the stairs ahead of us. We skid to a stop, looking around.
The only place left to go is the raised office that overlooks the monster matrix. We run up the few steps to the office and rush in.
Doc, the guy in the flannel shirt and jeans, looks up from taking notes on his clipboard in front of an ancient TV set.
Alpha grabs a pen with one hand and grabs Doc’s hair with the other. He points the pen near Doc’s eye, ready to stab.
“I’m going to poke this through your eye unless you get those monsters off our backs,” whispers Alpha. I still think he used to be a company guy, but he looks like he really means it. Maybe life in an office is tougher than I thought.
“One human is as good as another to them,” says Doc staring at the pen. “They won’t be searching for you.”
As if to prove his point, he shifts his eyes toward the large window that overlooks the lab. A group is coming into the factory below us. Several scorpions usher in a line of dirty, naked people.
In front of them is the new row of empty water droplets.
One of the human minions stands in front of the group. We can hear him below us through the open door as he says, “It’ll be better for you to just do as you’re told.” He actually sounds like he believes it and is doing them a favor by letting them in on a secret. “Otherwise, this could be you.” He nods to two of the other minions.
They grab the nearest person and drag him down a few rows, where they shove him into a droplet.
Even from here, I can hear his gurgled scream of muffled terror. The half-formed scorpion jerks as if trying to sting its prey with the stinger it doesn’t yet have, then it latches on with its still human mouth.
I look away while I can.
The naked people in front of the door stand frozen, both mesmerized and horrified.
“Your choice,” says the guy who I assume is the foreman. “You can be like him.” He points to the scorpion victim. “Or you can choose to step into one of these water thingies without any trouble. The first fifteen people to volunteer to go into the water get it.”
Everyone steps forward.
The foreman starts picking people at random and they slip into their watery cages.
“How do I breathe?” asks a large man whose body is already in the droplet with his head sticking out.
One of the human minions shoves the man’s head the rest of the way in without answering.
The question seems to occur to all of them as soon as they’re in the water. I guess the whole situation was so weird and surreal that the victims must have figured these details would be taken care of for them. Or maybe they just assumed they could pop their heads out to breathe.
When they realize that they’re trapped and can’t push back out, their faces shift from anxiety to panic.
The front row of droplets swings and jerks erratically as the new inhabitants freak inside their watery cages. Bubbles fill the droplets as the last of the victims’ precious air seeps out of their mouths. A few scream underwater. Muffled echoes bounce off the walls of the lab.
The remaining people back away, now clearly regretting their decision. But the minions grab them and shove them into the droplets. It’s an easier job for them because I realize now that all the first people they picked were the biggest and strongest of the victims.
By the time it becomes obvious that this is no bargain, only the weakest of the group are left.

 

[Đông Tịch]

World After (Penryn & the End of Days #2)
Author: Susan Ee
Genre: Fantasy thriller

Chap 39:​

Spoiler

TATTOO QUIETLY closes the office door, shutting out the noise below.
Alpha yanks Doc’s head back, still holding the pen to his eye. “How can you live with this on your conscience?” growls Alpha.
“Asks the man who’s threatening to stab a fellow human being in the eye,” says Doc.
Tattoo leans over Doc. “Your human privileges are being revoked, asshole.”
The office has a desk, a chair, and old-fashioned bell jars of flesh-colored blobs that I don’t want to look at. I wouldn’t be surprised if this stuff was used back when Alcatraz was a real jail for real criminals.
“I’m a prisoner here, just like you,” says Doc through gritted teeth. “I do what they make me do, just like you. And just like you, I. Have. No. Choice.”
“Yeah,” says Alpha, “only unlike us, you’re neither monster Gerber food nor bio-mass for whatever these things are.”
Behind Doc, there are several rectangular boxes the size of books. Each one has a picture taped to it with a name written below. I’m about to scan past them when one of them catches my eye.
The felt-tip letters on one of the boxes read PAIGE. The grainy picture is as bad as it gets, but the dark eyes and pixie face are unmistakable.
“What are these?” My heart is thumping fast, telling me to forget about it.
“The human race is being wiped out and you think I’m happy about it?” asks Doc.
“What’s this?” I hold up the box that says PAIGE.
“Let me guess, you’re bravely fighting to free us,” says Alpha.
“I’m doing what I can.”
“Behind the scenes, no doubt,” says Alpha.
“Way behind the scenes, bro,” says Tattoo.
“Hey!” I say. “What is this?”
They finally look at me holding up the little box with Paige’s name and picture.
“It’s a video,” says Doc.
The alarm bells shriek again, echoing off the walls.
“The hell is that?” asks Tattoo. “And why does it keep going off?”
“There’s some crazy lady on the loose,” says Doc. “Keeps propping open emergency exits. Triggers the alarm. Are you going to let me go?”
Well, at least my mom must be doing okay.
“I want to see this video,” I say.
“Seriously?” asks Tattoo. “Want popcorn too?”
“I think that’s my sister.” I lift the video. “I need to see this.”
“Paige is your sister?” asks Doc. He seems to really notice me for the first time.
It sends a jolt through me to know that this man knows Paige.
Doc tries to come to me but Alpha yanks his hair back.
“Stab me in the eye or let me go.” Doc busts out of Alpha’s grip, looking ready to punch him.
“I need to see this video.”
“If that little girl was your sister,” says Doc, “I’m afraid she died in the aerie attack.”
“No, she didn’t,” I say.
He blinks at me in surprise. “How do you know?”
“I was just with her yesterday, or however long it’s been since I got here.”
Doc’s eyes focus so intensely on me that it’s as if I’m the only one in Doc’s world right now. “She didn’t attack you?”
“She’s my sister.” As if that answers the question.
“Where is she now?”
“I think she came here. We followed.”
The alarm turns off and we all relax our shoulders a little.
“Don’t got time to watch a video, sweetheart, are you crazy?” asks Tattoo. “Take it with you.”
“It’s Betamax,” says Doc. “This is probably the only Betamax player left in the Bay Area. It’s ancient, like everything else that was left around here.”
“What’s Betamax?” I ask.
“Obsolete video format,” says Alpha. “Older than you.”
“So you can’t see it anywhere but on this machine,” says Doc.
“What’s your plan?” I ask Alpha and Tattoo. “Is there any way I can watch this and meet you guys?”
They look at each other, and it’s clear neither of them has a plan.
“We take him captive and walk out of here,” says Alpha.
“Then we all die,” says Doc. “I mean no more to the locusts than you do.”
“Locusts?”
“Those things.” He nods toward the window. “That’s what the angels call them. Not sure why. These things will be the end of humanity.” He fades into his own world for a minute as he looks out over the scorpion factory, then seems to remember us. “Look, if you want to escape, tonight is the time to do it. There’s something scheduled that will have all the locusts flying off on a mission.”
“And we believe you why?” asks Tattoo. He’s found a letter opener from somewhere and is checking out the edge.
“Because I’m a human being and so are you. That puts us on the same team, like it or not.”
“How long will the creatures be gone?” asks Alpha.
“Don’t know.”
“What time will they leave?”
“I only know what I just told you. Tonight will be your best and only shot.”
“If they’re gone, we could free everybody,” I say, thinking of Clara and Mom and everyone who sang “Amazing Grace” when those people were marched to their deaths. Now I know where they went.
“Hard to sneak out with everybody in tow,” says Alpha.
“There’s no sneaking with that boat,” I say. “Unless you plan to swim with the sharks to get out of here. The more people, the better chance that some of us will make it.”
“If everyone’s running,” says Alpha, “it’s guaranteed a lot of us won’t make it.”
“If we leave people behind, it’s guaranteed that none of them will make it,” I say.
“Girl’s got a point,” says Tattoo.
Alpha takes a big breath and lets it out slowly.
“Cell keys are in the guard room,” says Doc. “Convince the human guards that you’ll free everyone, including them. They’ll get the keys, spread the word, and unlock the cells for you.”
“You’re lying,” says Tattoo.
“I’m not. You think there’s a single person here who wants to be here? You think we wouldn’t all bust out if we could? You just need to convince them their chances of survival are greater with you than against you. That’s the part that’s going to be tougher than you think.”
“Why aren’t you all leaving tonight if the guards are gone?” asks Alpha. “Why wait for us to break everyone out?”
“Because there’s only one boat. And when they leave, it’ll be docked in San Francisco, not here. This is Alcatraz, gentlemen. They don’t need guards. They have the water.”
“Can we swim it?” asks Tattoo.
“Maybe. For the right athlete who has trained for it and isn’t afraid of sharks. Someone in a wet suit and swimming during the day, with a backup team on a boat. Know anyone like that?”
“There’s a way out,” says Tattoo. “Think, little man. Or I’ll make sure you’re the first one to get thrown into the water tonight.”
Doc watches me. I can almost see the gears in his head cranking into overdrive. “I’ve heard the boat driver is locked up on the pier when the boat docks there. I might be able to get this girl onboard.” He nods toward me. “Maybe she can free the driver and talk him into bringing the boat back.”
“I’ll go,” says Tattoo. “I’ll take one for the team.”
“I’m sure you will but it needs to be her,” says Doc.
“Why?”
“There’s a team here recruiting females for the aerie. When they leave, I might be able to make sure she’s included. So unless you’re a young female, you can’t have a ride out.”
Tattoo assesses me. He’s trying to decide if I’ll bolt the second I get to the mainland.
“My mom is here and so is my friend,” I say. “I’ll do everything I can to help with the escape.”
The guys look at each other again as if having a silent conversation.
“How do we know the ferry driver is going to risk his life coming back for us?” asks Alpha. “Is his mom here too?”
“She’ll just have to be persuasive,” says Doc.
“And if she isn’t?” asks Tattoo.
“Then we’ll find someone else to drive the ferry,” says Doc confidently.
“If you’re so sure, why haven’t you done this already?” asks Alpha.
“This is the first time all the creatures and angels have been scheduled to leave. What makes you think we wouldn’t have done it without you?”
The guys nod. “You up for this?” Alpha asks me.
“Yeah. I’ll drive the boat back myself if I have to.”
“It’d be great if the boat doesn’t sink on its way here,” says Alpha.
“Right,” I say. “I’ll talk someone into it who knows what they’re doing.” I sound more confident than I feel.
The alarm shrieks again, echoing off the walls and assaulting our ears.
“Maybe you can get that woman to help you,” says Doc. “She can show you all the exits.”
“Go,” I say. “Get the cell doors open when the time comes. I’ll free the boat captain on the mainland.”
Tattoo and Alpha eye each other, both looking unconvinced. The alarm shuts off again.
“Unless you have a better plan?” says Doc.
The men nod to each other. “You better be telling the truth, Doc,” says Tattoo. “Or you’ll be shark bait by morning. You get me?”
Alpha looks like he’s about to ask if I’ll be all right, but then, maybe remembering where we are, he turns to leave.
“If you see that emergency-exit woman,” I call after him, “tell her Penryn sent you. Take care of her, okay? I think that’s my mom.”
Tattoo gives Doc one last glare and leaves.