No Stone Tells Where I Lie by Madeline Kalvis (jenna bush book club .TXT) 📕

ashamed or pretend that everything is fine, some part of you wants someone else’s life to be ruined. Isn’t that right? It’s only fair.”

“Blood for blood is not justice.”

“But I didn’t say just, did I? I said fair.”

Emma tried to shut her eyes. “I'm not a monst-”

“That's enough.”

Emma's feet lurched forward. A little sensation came through her fingers as she steadied herself against the outside corner of the pub. Around the corner a light was on in the fourth house on the right. The thick curtains were drawn, blocking most of the light. They were green with little flowers and filthy, matching the wallpaper. Red was inside pouring himself a whiskey with shaking hands.

“I won't kill anyone.”

“Of course not.”

“I won’t help you.”

“You will. There are rules. There are consequences.”

“You’ll have to kill me. And you can’t do that, because you need me.”

“I told you before, I wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s all up to you.”

“I won't. I won't hurt anyone. Not even me. I won't let you.”

“Who said anything about you?”

“I am better than this.”

“That's the worst lie you've told yet.”

“I can still do one good thing.”

Emma saw her foot lift off the ground. She slammed it back in place. It slid backwards against the ancient cobbles, grinding the pebbles and moss under her shoe. The muscles in her legs burned as they fought each other. She twisted her hip around to face the other way and the pain forced the air out of her lungs. She heard the pop and felt her ankle give out. Little pulls and tears screamed up and down her thigh.

She managed to lift her leg and put it in front of her, in the direction of the hill. She closed her eyes and forced herself up the slope. Despite the pain each step came easier, until the accumulated damage forced her onto her hands and knees. Sometimes her hands found purchase on a cobble or hard-packed earth. Other times she scraped at loose rocks and gathered slime under her nails. One slab of concrete gave way under her grip, cracking into two jagged pieces that split the flesh open down the length of her forearm. She crawled past the humming generator and through the little weeds growing around it. Dawn was coming and the wind was dying.

Inside the station it was quiet. The usual strum the wind made against the metal shell was gone. Emma felt in the dark that she was still not alone. She didn't waste time trying to reach the lights and followed the red dot of the radio receiver. It took three tries to get into Evan’s old chair and reach the handset, but as soon as she pulled it down, the radio came to life. Presets and levels spoke to her, illuminated by orange back light. One frequency was marked in a sloppy hand “Royal Navy – Diego Garcia.” She set the dial and activated the handset.

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Uh... is this the Navy?”

“This is NSF Diego Garcia. Identify yourself.”

“My name is Emma Cambourne. I'm a constable on South Alderney Island.”

“Where?”

“It's... I'm at Broken Ridge Station, with the BAS.” Emma hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s been an accident. The Governor General has died.”

A long moment passed before the voice came back. “If you need emergency medical assistance, I think you need to contact Royal Perth Hospital.”

“This isn’t a medical emergency.” She winced at the pain biting at her legs and snapping up her spine. “We need to arrange an evacuation. We can’t stay here.”

“Slow down. And move the microphone away from your mouth. Who’s in charge over there?”

Emma angled the handset away from her face and realized she was panting. “I am.”

“Whoever you are, you need to contact the BOT’s government office in London. We’re not authorized to do anything close to what you’re requesting.”

“I don’t think there is a government office.”

“Can you explain what the hell is going on down there that requires an evacuation?”

“It’s a bit complicated. I’m afraid you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I will, I promise, but you need to send someone. Please. We need help. I am asking you for help.”

The faint crackling of dead air continued for several seconds.

“I need to talk to my CO. Stand by.”

Maybe they wouldn’t come. Maybe she would have to wait until Beatrice came back next month. But word would get out to someone. Someone on the outside would be reminded of South Alderney and the people trapped there. She had to hold out until then.

Then again, maybe they would come. She had to convince them.

The station was quiet again, except for the crackle of the radio. Emma listened to the stillness. With the wind gone she could hear the village waking up at the bottom of the hill. Her mouth tasted like metal. She felt eyes on her from no particular direction.

“You’re trapped here with me.”

Emma didn’t realize it was her own voice and not the other, until she continued.

“You are going to sit here with me, in this spot. You are not going near Red, or anyone else, as long as I’m alive. We are going to sit here until people remember this place. And when they come here, I am going to tell them exactly what you are.”

“That could be some time. And we have a lot to talk about.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I can wait.”

“So can I.”

The radio crackled. “Broken Ridge?”

“Yes. Affirmative? Yes.”

“We’re trying to get in touch with the BOT government office now. Can you please explain to me what is happening on your end?”

“Not all of it. But I can tell you how the Governor General died. First I need something from you.”

“What’s that?”

“what is your name?”

“AB Foster.”

“You sound young. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four. What’s your point?”

“It helps to match a person to a voice. Humor me one more time. Do you like the Navy?”

“It’s better than working at the DVLA.”

“OK. I think I’m ready. Let me try to start at the beginning.”

Next to the bank of electronics was a