Lies Run Deep: The Predator Prey Thriller Series: Book Two by Valerie Brandy

Author:Valerie Brandy [Brandy, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emerald Lion Press
Published: 2024-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

29

ZOE

"It's been hours. He's obsessed," I say to Mike, who's using a rock to break a piece of wood into pieces. Sweat gathers on his forehead.

"Well, you can't blame the man. His family's been on about it for generations. Do you remember when he said that's why Oxford let him go?"

"No," I answer, genuinely unsure. "When did he say that?"

"On the way back to his place. You were walking ahead. He was embarrassed. Turns out he's a bit of a joke in the archeological community."

I glance over at Francois, who's crouched beside Cassandra. The two of them are in hushed conversation, analyzing the facsimile of the paper with La Buse's symbols on it.

"Cassandra is helping him."

"Does that surprise you? She needs something to obsess over. Let's just be glad it's not us. Maybe it'll last a whole hour and I'll get some peace."

"How can Francois worry about finding treasure? Does he understand it won't matter if we're dead?" His obsession with the treasure irritates me because of its impracticality. It's an affront to the natural order of human priorities, which dictates that survival comes first, and objects come last. "Let's say he does find it. We'll be stuck on this island, starving to death, surrounded by a bunch of gold and silver. We'll have nothing to eat. No shelter. No water. No escape. But hey, we'll have gold!"

"Zoe," Mike puts down he rock he's holding, flexing his arm. He looks worn out. "Not to play devil's advocate here, but I'm trying to build a raft from four materials, and you're hunting clues left behind by maniac game-master. Are we really in a position to judge?"

"He's distracting Cassandra. This means I have to look for clues alone."

"My aunt and uncle will go with you."

"Like I said, I'll be alone."

Mike smiles. "Do you want to take Tori? Or your Mom?"

On a log at the end of the campsite, my Mom and Tori are hard at work, weaving palm leaves into rope. "No. They're fine. Your raft might be the best chance we have at getting off this rock." The raft Mike's building is only about two feet long so far. It's a scrap of a thing, uneven and splintered. I won't say it outlaid, but so far, it's unimpressive.

"That's bad news," he says, grimacing.

"You can build anything."

"With tools." He crosses his arms, looking at the pile of wood in front of him as if willing it into a different form. "This is…” he pauses. "I'm trying. I won't quit until I'm dead. But even if I can get something together that will withstand the water, I don't know.”

"What?"

"I don't know if it will fit everyone."

"It has to fit everyone.”

"It might not," he runs a hand though his hair. "If that happens, one person has to go. The rest of us might have to stay." He pauses. "I think it should be you."

"That's not an option."

"It may be our only option."

The idea of going out to sea on a raft— looking over my shoulder at Mike and everyone I love still stranded on a beach— is something I can't stomach.

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