Ex-Isle by Peter Clines (electronic reader TXT) 📕

in time to see the deck rushing up at him. He tried to twist out of the way, and the metal plates hit him in the forehead and shook his broken nose.

This time he did black out.

Freedom had taught Madelyn to always go for the weak spots, and the cowboy’s bruised and swollen nose had made a great target. She leaned in, ready to throw another punch, but the guard with the cowboy mustache was out cold. She kicked him twice in the leg to be sure, and thought about kicking him in the nads to be really sure, but she didn’t want to risk waking him up.

The man’s nose and mouth were bleeding a lot, and she felt good about that. Having him stare at her chest, even for just a few seconds, had made her skin crawl for some reason. She was pretty sure the guy was a creeper, whoever he was.

His knife had cut right across her boob. Through the wet suit and sports bra into her skin. The zipper had stopped it from going farther across her chest. She poked at the wound, just to be sure her body and her clothes were going to hold together.

She took the cowboy’s shotgun and knife with her. Circling around the large garden patch took her a few minutes. She tried to move casually, but with a purpose. Act like you belong there and nobody will look too close. She’d heard that somewhere. Or read it.

When she reached the second guard, he was watching the last few inches of the sun vanish behind the horizon. It was pretty, with all the reds and orange and even some purple striped back and forth. But he had his back to the cage, which Madelyn thought was sloppy for a guard.

He heard her footsteps and started to look back over his shoulder, but he was way too relaxed. She just walked up and hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the shotgun. Both hands, jerked it forward, hit him right in his mess of dreadlocks. His body spasmed, his own weapon slipped from his fingers, and then he crumbled.

She watched his body for a moment to make sure he was still breathing. These guards all needed to be knocked out, but she didn’t want to kill anyone. Not even creeper-cowboy guy.

There was a big metal barrel near the guard that looked and smelled like it was used for fires sometimes. She dropped both shotguns and the knife in it. One guard left.

Madelyn crouched by another storage container and peered over at the last man. He was looking in the direction of the cage, just like he’d been when she worked her way around him a little while ago. Clear view in front of him, but she could probably walk right up behind him.

She found a gap between one of the storage containers and the ship’s railing. It wasn’t even a foot, but it was enough to squeeze in sideways and shuffle down to the far end of the ship. It was like inching along a ledge with the ocean shifting back and forth forty or fifty feet below. She couldn’t remember ever having a fear of heights. Good thing.

Seven minutes of shuffling later, the ledge opened up into a wide space near the front of the ship. No more containers, just some hatches and little pillars and other ship-things she didn’t recognize. She slipped to the edge of the big steel box and eased her head out to look around. She wasn’t quite behind the guard, but she was close. At his eight o’clock, if she was using the term right.

How good was his peripheral vision? He hadn’t noticed her sneaking up to the cage. Or maybe he had seen her and just hadn’t said anything because she hadn’t tried to break the other heroes out. Maybe a lot of teenaged St. George groupies had been stopping by the cage in the time she’d been healing and climbing out of the oil tanker’s ex-filled hold.

If she walked back a little bit, she could curve around and come up right behind him. It was already pretty dark, and she’d just be a shadow to him if he did catch a glimpse of her. She just had to move fast and not hesitate. She wasn’t sure how much longer the other two guards would be out.

Madelyn started walking. Slow, easy steps at first, just in case he caught a glimpse of her. Then faster as she got behind him, out of his field of vision. She took long strides on her toes, not quite running so her boots wouldn’t make noise on the deck. The guard was thirty feet away. Twenty. Ten.

Her foot scuffed as she put it down. A bit of dried dirt and rust. Not a loud sound, but a different one. It stood out. The guard’s shoulders shifted. His chin came around and gave her a glimpse of Asian features.

She lunged and tackled him. They tumbled down, and her hand slapped over his mouth. He tried to yell, and she pushed her fingers between his teeth. His tongue twitched against her fingertips. He looked at her and screamed, but it was a stuttering, muffled screech around her knuckles. Then his mouth was opening wide, his tongue pulling back, and he almost gagged trying not to touch her cold skin.

Madelyn pulled herself up on top of him and slammed her forehead down against his. It was a clumsy head butt. She knew there was a certain way to do it, but didn’t know what it was. So she just smacked their skulls together again and hoped the blow would connect right.

He twisted under her and got an arm against her throat to hold her head back. He wrenched his head around. Her fingers slipped from his mouth, he took in a sharp breath and—

The cage exploded.

“She’s got the last guy,” said Barry. “Let’s