Page 57

Nigel snatches the bottle from Ezra’s hand before he can give me any as a powerful gust of wind blows through, and clean air is replaced by the putrid smell of decaying flesh, now thick on my tongue.

The severed souls that haunt us.

The air is suddenly thicker, the stench revolting, and the buzzing hovers in the air like an apocalypse. Completely unnerving, given what’s near us.

Flies. Maggots. Insects feasting.

Nigel is already puking before we register the mountain of bodies next to us.

All thirty-two of them are piled near each other or on top of one another, and in the early evening light, some of their eyes are still open as we walk by.

Their bodies are still decaying, frozen in time from that fateful night. The colder weather must have partially preserved the bodies, or at least, the remnants that were picked at by vultures and rodents before the snow fell and the temperatures dropped. A few of them have been pulled away and torn apart by animals, rotting where they rest… what’s left of them anyway.

“Keep moving,” Nigel gripes, still gagging from the sight and smell of those dead bodies melting into the earth. I hope he dies from that tainted water. Karma at its best. Once again, this shows me how sick he is because he led me right here. He must have forgotten they were so close.

Inside, I’m screaming, but I don’t dare laugh. The utter disdain on his face tells me he will kill me if I do. Then I will be converted into a pile of bones.

I shudder as I stare at these poor dead souls, none of whom I really knew. Surviving instead of them fills me with a deep sense of guilt. Each was an athlete, a cheerleader, or a leader in the community and school. They will be deeply missed by their community, but I won’t be. I was barely a blip in my father’s life before this school year started.

They are faceless now… The only identifiers are what’s left of their Armani suits and the fabric of their blue cheerleading outfits. I can’t help but gape at them, and Nigel, who has recovered from his vomiting, smirks at my reaction. All the blood rushes from my face, and Ezra merely stands a few feet away, scowling.

“Oh, suck it up. It’s not like you haven’t seen this before,” he says to Ezra.

“Dude, have some fucking respect,” Ezra barks. “You might not have given a shit about them, but these were my fucking friends.” I smile because it’s nice to see the old Ezra again—the one who hated Nigel. I miss the days when they loathed each other and Ezra had a backbone. I was completely unnerved when they became inseparable, back before that fateful night when this island became truly divided.

Nigel scoffs and keeps walking past the cemetery as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He actually starts whistling to himself as he glides ahead, and Ezra shakes his head.

I finally make eye contact with Ezra, though he doesn’t give me any hint of emotion other than the blank stare he’s been giving me for the two days I’ve been with him. His face is entirely unreadable, and I wonder if he—among others on this island, including myself—is simply shutting off his emotions to cope with the stark realities that we live in. That would explain Ezra’s sudden lack of interest in Naomi and how he became a shell of the alpha athlete I knew only months before.

I need to find a way to reawaken the essence of his true self, and Maison holds the key to that. I can sense that he genuinely cares, not necessarily about me, but about the people in his life. The mere mention of Maison brings him to life. Maison seems to have that effect on everyone, even in death—except for Micah, who seems to want to erase him from existence.

My eyes glance down to Ezra’s hand as I walk, and I’m immediately reminded that it might not be so easy when I see his thumb twitching—sticking out from the four scarred nubs where his fingers used to be.

I watch him, even as he turns his head back to keep an eye on me, and I wonder how he survived that, how he’s coping with the loss of his fingers, and how he and Nigel survived this deep freeze, if not on the airplane.

Most importantly, why does Ezra have this strange loyalty to Nigel?

I guess it’s not like he’d be welcomed by the others, so perhaps he has no other choice. This island is truly divided, and I have no idea whose side I’m actually on.

My heart sinks thinking of Micah with Naomi and how quickly things have changed. She’s now the one wearing my clothes, eating my food, and sleeping in my spot, all the while plotting to steal from Micah by wrapping her lips around him. Or, perhaps, he was her goal this entire time. If she’s the reason why he hasn’t come after me, I will never speak to him again.

That’s unforgivable.

We finally pass the bodies and head north along the tundra. Slowly, we start to veer west. To my relief, we begin a descent into the lower terrains, where the land is lusher and the number of death pits reduced. The clear sky is now an inky black as dusk settles upon us, and I’m not sure how long they expect to keep going. We must be close to wherever they are taking me.

Nigel is ahead, and I wonder if I could push him into one of the open pits in the earth if I were fast enough. He would fall into oblivion, and no one would miss him.

I’d be doing this world a favor.

Nigel abruptly stops in front of one of these said death pits. “We’re here,” he says sweetly, turning around to look at me.

I narrow my eyes in confusion, straining to see any sign of movement or life.

Just darkness and ice.

He pushes me, and I fall into that darkness, landing with a maddening thud.

“Fuck,” I cry out as I land hard and a sharp pain snakes up my hand, the wind stolen from my lungs. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to will away the pain. As I regain my senses, I turn my head around, standing on all fours—almost catlike—to get my bearings.