Page 62 of The Darkest Hour

Son of a bitch.

While Havoc had been my protector on the raft.

Now on solid ground, everything had changed.

And the island’s isolation provided a different kind of threat—one that might come from the man standing beside me.

Shit.

I gritted my teeth.

Yeah. . .the bear. I definitely pick the fucking bear.

The Ghosts of the Island

Onyx

Why didn’t he just give me the bag? Did he intend to overpower me? Or was he nervous that I would use the weapons against him?

Each possibility was a thread in a web of doubt and fear, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it. We needed food and shelter, and we needed them now.

Light rain started to fall again, softly landing on my skin.

Havoc stalked off toward a line of trees. “I’m going to see if those are actually coconuts. I hope to God so.”

“You want me to hold the bag for you?”

“No.” He didn’t even glance back at me. “I’ll need it.”

Fuck face.

But I knew better than to pick a fight with Havoc now. Not when our survival was on the line.

I’ll kick your ass later.

He disappeared into the line of trees, leaving me alone in the soft pitter patter of rain.

I shivered as a chilling breeze blew through my soaked body suit.

Okay. He’s possibly getting us food. How can I help us too?

I scanned what looked to be an abandoned beach with no sign of human life. The sand was bright white in the moonlight, scattered with driftwood and debris. Broken shells and seaweed littered the shore.

I spotted something further away.

What’s that?

I headed in the object’s direction, and after five minutes at a rushed pace I realized it was the remains of a small boat that lay tilted in the sand.

Alright. This is interesting.

I approached the boat, lowered myself to the sand, and peered under it.

The sight that greeted me made my stomach twist.

What the hell? No. That can’t be it.

Lifting the edge of the boat, I uncovered a large skeleton, its bony fingers still gripping a rusted gun.