CHAPTER 21

Redemption Lies Plainly in Truth

I watch a bloody, disheveled Harrison turn around in circles, screaming my name. There's a feral gleam in his eyes as he looks around, his gun poised and ready in his grip.

"Come out here and face me, you fucker!" he shouts, his voice breaking towards the end. Given his limp and the blood dripping from his foot, I'd guess he got bit by the bear trap.

I know that if there's a time to shoot him, it's now, so I adjust my position and take aim, and Harrison keeps screaming for me.

"You come out now and I'll spare Reed!"

I pause, staring down at him through the leaves of the tree.

Harrison cackles, looking a little delirious. "I know she's more than just your assistant. I'll spare her life if you come and face me man-to-man. Come here and face me!"

"Henry, don't," I hear Beth say from my earpiece, but her voice sounds distant, muffled. All I can hear is Harrison's crazed laugh as he talks about the woman I love.

"You are such a fucking coward!" he screams. "I will kill her slowly, I will peel the skin from her bones, crush her skull beneath my fingers, tear—"

I pull on the trigger and watch him jump away right before my bullet hits. With my position now known, Harrison takes cover behind a thick tree log and opens fire on the tree I'm perched in. I use the trunk and branches for cover, but too much of my body is exposed to his gunfire.

I shoot back at him, never quite managing to make my mark. Harrison goes through several rounds for his pistol before he switches to a backup gun, and all the while he sings the song Ambrose must be playing in his earpiece.

"Oh, lay that pistol down, babe

Lay that pistol down

Pistol packin' mama

Lay that pistol down."

If I make it out of this alive, I'm going to berate Ambrose for his choice in music.

The two of us continue to take shots at each other, going through our rounds so quickly it's becoming a race to see who's faster at reloading their gun. Unfortunately, the answer might be Harrison, because when the both of us are loading in a new magazine, Harrison finishes a couple seconds before me, shooting a bullet that hits me right in the calf.

The shot knocks me off balance, and before I can catch myself, I fall out of the tree, leaving my gun behind. I hit the ground on my side, slamming my injured leg on the ground. I bite my lip to muffle my scream, a task that becomes harder once I drag myself behind the trunk of the tree to stay covered from Harrison's insistent gunfire. I do my best to shoot him back with the pistol I had on my belt, but my aim is shit. He isn't doing much better; the blood loss and pain have made him erratic and uncoordinated, and I know I'm not far behind.

Pretty soon he and I both run out of ammo, and I know that things are about to get ugly. Harrison starts moving towards me, so I grit my teeth and force myself to my feet, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my leg. When Harrison is within arm's reach, he punches me in the face hard, nearly sending me back down to the ground, but I manage to regain my balance, though my leg screams in protest.

"I have been dreaming about this moment for weeks," he tells me, attempting to punch me again, but I duck and hit him in the gut, headbutting him as he hunches over in pain. My head throbs from the impact, but it manages to make him stumble backwards, giving me the opportunity to kick him hard in the chest, sending him toppling to the ground.

Unfortunately, I also fell to the ground because my injured leg can't hold up my own weight by itself. Harrison forces himself up, blinking rapidly as he tries to refocus his attention on me. While he hesitates, I launch forward, punching him in the face, making blood spew from his mouth onto the grassy floor. Harrison growls and returns my punch with one of his own, gripping my shirt in one hand while he hits me repeatedly with the other.

"My brother was all I had," he says through gritted teeth, tackling me to the ground, proceeding to punch and slam my head into the dirt. "You took him from me!"

I bring my knee up into his crotch, wrapping my arms around his neck so I can topple us both over so he's no longer on top of me.

"He was using his power to kill innocent people. He had to be stopped."

He kicks at my injured leg, making me yell out in pain, but that's quickly cut off when he headbutts me. He tries to get to his feet, but before he can, I grab a rock off the ground and slam it down on his injured foot, sending him right back to the floor.

"There are no innocents—only the weak and the strong."

I swing my legs around and slide across the ground, connecting my foot with his face, breaking his nose. I try kicking at him again, but he grabs my leg and digs his thumb into my bullet wound. I let out a scream, kicking at him until he releases my leg, then I take my rock and start beating it into his chest. I manage to get a few hits in before he catches my arm and snaps my shoulder back, dislocating it. I drop the rock with another shout, but I punch him with my other arm before he can even think about picking it up off the ground.

"You and your brother kill fucking children! Does it make you feel strong to bathe in their pain and blood? Your childhood sucked, so little Timmy can't have one at all? I wish I had made your brother's death as painful as I'm going to make yours!"

He spits blood into my face, frantically grabbing at my neck and shoulders in an attempt to choke me, but I twist out of his grip, wrapping my arms around his arm and waist, flipping him over my shoulder. He lands on the other side of me, and I immediately hop into his back, keeping him pinned to the ground. I grip his hair and slam his head into the ground a couple times, but he manages to push himself up and roll over, so he lands with me beneath him. He elbows me in the side, trying to headbutt me from behind him, but keep a hold on his body with my legs and one good arm, trying to keep him locked down.

"I wasn't there," he hisses, trying to swat me off. "I didn't protect him. It was my job to protect him."

He thrashes like a fish out of water, clawing at me and digging into my leg. I lean down and bite into his ear, pulling as hard as I can until I feel the muscle rip and blood spurt onto my face. I spit out what remains of his ear onto the ground, and Harrison manages to grab on to my fallen rock, using it to slam into my wound. I let go of him, too preoccupied by my pain to stop him from getting to his feet.

His face is covered in blood, and his teeth are stained red from it as he growls, "It should have been me. It should have been me!"

I punch and kick at the tree, not caring that my skin is splitting open and my knuckles are bruising. Behind me is where I buried my mother, in this foreign land without any church service or clothes. She'll stay here in this hellhole forever because I couldn't protect her.

"It should have been me," I sob, punching even harder. "It should have been me."

I try getting up, but Harrison kicks me in the stomach, sending me right back down.

He places his foot on my injured leg, keeping me in place as he brings the rock down on my head. "I want you to know how it feels to watch the only person you love die when you can do nothing about it. I will leave you on the verge of death, unable to move or scream as you watch me cut your little girlfriend into pieces."

He discards the rock and throws his body weight on top of me, knocking the air from my lungs. His arms wrap around my neck, keeping me in a chokehold as he continues talking. "Every time I've killed, it hasn't been personal; they were just a means to an end, an obstacle that needed to be taken care of. But I will enjoy killing you and that little bitch."

"I won't let you get anywhere near her," I wheeze out, struggling against his grip, but it's no use. With only one working arm and leg, it's impossible.

Harrison drops his voice to a whisper, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Watch me."

I watch on the camera as Henry and Harrison beat the absolute shit out of each other. Just when I think Henry has the upper hand, Harrison deals a blow that makes the tides turn, and then the cycle repeats itself. The two are so evenly matched, fueled by adrenaline, pain, and bloodlust…who will win the fight depends on sheer luck at this point.

And I have a feeling Henry's luck is running out.

I push out of my chair and march into the weapons room, grabbing on to a handgun and a magazine before I start towards the living room. Ambrose follows after me, his voice frantic. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Henry needs help or else he'll die," I respond, letting each door scan my face so I can get through.

"You can't go out there!" he argues.

"Ian is preoccupied and even if he left his spot now, he might not make it in time." Once I reach the elevator, I turn around to face him, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. "You said you didn't have any formal training in combat?"

Ambrose nods shallowly.

"I was in the CIA. I've been trained for years in how to fight," I lie. "I'm the only one who can help him now. I need you to stay here for Ian. He needs you."

Ambrose clearly doesn't like this idea, but he relents, taking a step back from the elevator doors, which have just opened.

I step inside, pressing the button to go up.

"Good luck," he tells me as the doors start to close.

I give him a nod, only allowing myself to breathe once the elevator starts moving and I'm all alone.

This might be the single most stupid thing I've ever done. I mean, what am I thinking? From the cameras, it seems like Ian and Henry are fighting off the remaining two mercs, but the cameras don't cover the whole island. There's a chance someone is out there looking to avenge their teammates. I also could just stumble into a landmine or spiked pit by accident. Sure, I've seen the map of where each trap is placed, but I don't know it by heart.

Stupid stupid stupid idea.

But if I don't at least try, there's a chance Henry might die.

When the elevator doors slide open, I sprint down the hallway to the ladder that leads up to the door to the bunker. Despite being made of metal, the door isn't all that heavy as I push it open with both hands, but it is heavy enough to make a loud thud as it hits the ground, and I cringe as I pull myself into the daylight.

If there is someone lingering around here, they're going to investigate that noise.

Stupid .

It won't be a problem as long as I keep moving. Henry is about a mile to the north, so with a deep breath, I start running in that direction, inserting the magazine into the gun and loading a round in the chamber—another stupid decision, but whatever.

I try to picture the map of the booby traps in my mind, and I think I'm doing a pretty good job at avoiding them, but I might just be getting lucky. As an extra precaution, I copy what Harrison did and throw rocks and sticks around the path around me. I hit a couple trip wires, but nothing goes off, indicating to me that the bomb or gun has already activated. That's good; it means there're probably not as many traps still active in the area.

I estimate I'm about halfway there at this point. My entire body is slick with sweat, I'm waving a gun around while moving at a full sprint, and the hem of my pants is getting stained with the blood of random mercenaries I am running over top of, whose blown-apart carcasses lie scattered around the ground like a scene from Final Destination. I'm pretty used to seeing gore, but this is a bit much for me to see. The air is already starting to smell from the bodies cooking under the heat, and I have to fight the urge to throw up.

Just a little farther.

Suddenly, something knocks me off my feet and falls on top of me. After my brain catches up with what just happened, I look up to see one of the mercs holding me down by the wrists. From my research into Harrison, I know this guy is his second-in-command, and he looks pretty fucking mad. His face is stained red with blood, his hair is matted with dirt and dust, and there's a crazed look in his eyes that makes my stomach drop.

"Well well well," he croons, grinning down at me. "You must be Ms. Reed. I know someone that would love to meet you."

I instinctively start struggling against his grip, but he's too strong. He begins laughing at me, amused by my reaction. He's like a lion watching a gazelle slowly be surrounded by his pride. I can see my gun on the ground a few feet away; it taunts me as much as the man pinning me down does.

"I'm going to enjoy watching John carve into your soft, delicate skin," he whispers, his mouth so close to my face I can feel his hot breath fan against my cheek.

I hear Henry's voice in my head instructing me how to get out of a situation like this. He trained me for this. I can't fight against his strength, but I can make him fight against physics. I headbutt him, immediately pressing my pelvis up against his. He lets go of my wrists to catch himself, so I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. I shove one of his arms between us, allowing me to roll us over so I'm on top of him. I don't have time to get my gun, so instead I grab a rock off the ground and start slamming it down into his face. I manage to get a few blows in before he shoves me off of him. I scramble to my feet just as he does, and just as he tries to grab me again, I kick at his chest as hard as I can, making him stumble back into a very familiar bush. It's the one Henry told me to avoid at all costs when we first got onto the island.

Mr. Second-In-Command falls ass first onto that bush, and he barely has time to process what's happened before an automatic landmine goes off, making him explode right in front of me. I watch blood and guts fly towards the sky, and I shield my face from getting splashed with them. I then hear a wet thud, and I find his head where the bush used to be.

I can have a mental breakdown about seeing a head blown off of a body later , I tell myself as I grab my gun off the ground, fighting an intense wave of nausea. My hands are starting to shake, and I've only been sweating more since the decapitated guy attacked me.

"Henry needs me," I whisper, reminding myself why I'm out here in the first place. I chant that phrase over and over again as I run the final stretch between me and him, and my legs move faster than they ever have before, my lungs heaving harder than they've ever heaved.

I just hope I'm not too late.

Harrison's grip around my neck gets tighter, and no matter how hard I pull at his arm and gouge at his hands, he doesn't let up. He's not going to relent until I die, and I'm starting to think there's no other way this ends. A minute or two more and I'll suffocate to death. That is, if he doesn't break my neck first.

The sinking reality that I'm probably going to die doesn't stop me from trying to fight him off. If I'm to die, I'm going to go out fighting. I'll be damned if I let this fucker have the satisfaction of seeing me give up.

Just when my vision starts to get a little spotty, I hear a gunshot ring through the air. I look up just in time to see the bullet hit Harrison in his right eye. His grip loosens on my neck, then he falls backwards, allowing me to stumble my way to freedom. I unceremoniously fall onto the side of my body that's mostly unscathed, and I find the still body of Harrison in a similar position—on his side, his head leaning against the ground. His one good eye stares right through me, and a chill runs down my spine at the alternative reality I see there, the person I could have been.

I expect to see Ian when I look over to where the shot came from, but I find a sweaty, disheveled Beth. She pants and shakes as she runs over to me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I want to give her shit for coming up here, for risking her life, but the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, "Thank you."

My gratitude makes her cry harder. "You're such an asshole."

I try to laugh but it hurts too much, so it ends up more as a coughing fit that I wince through the whole time. "For thanking you?"

"For nearly dying." She kneels next to me, cupping my face between her palms. "Your life isn't yours to give away, H. Your life is mine, understood? You're never going to jeopardize it again."

"So, bossy," I whisper, smiling up at her.

"Beth?" I hear Ian's voice ask. He shows up at my other side a few seconds later, sweaty and a little bruised up, but otherwise not injured. "What happened?"

"She saved me," I inform him, letting out a slight whimper when Beth brushes against my dislocated arm. "Or what's left of me. Think you could fix me up?"

Ian rolls his eyes playfully, unable to hide a grin. "Some things never change."

Slowly, he and Beth help me up, and we start to move at a snail's pace towards the bunker, with Ian taking most of my weight while Beth hugs my torso, partially to help me stand but also just to hold me, and I hold her right back, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"I think we need to find another island," Beth remarks, looking around at the horror movie surrounding us. "We can't stay in the bunker forever, and if we come up here, it's a bio hazard."

"I'm sure we can help out with that," Ian chimes in. "But are you sure you two want to stay out here? With Harrison and his crew dead, you don't have to hide anymore. You could go anywhere, do anything, be anything."

Beth and I lock eyes, and when she gives me a bright, beautiful smile, I know we're on the same page.

"We have everything we need right here," Beth answers, and I couldn't agree more.