The Island: The addictive new YA thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author of STRANGERS by C.L. Taylor

Author:C.L. Taylor [Taylor, C.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008240592
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-01-20T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 20

DANNY

Day five on the island

Danny is crouching on the large bough of a tree, fast asleep, his arms loosely wrapped around the trunk, his hands and feet scratched and bleeding, when a shout wakes him. He jolts, then tightens his grip on the tree, suddenly realizing where, and how high up, he is. It was pitch black when he fell asleep, but there’s the tiniest glimmer of light on the horizon where the sun is slicing its way through the dark curtain of night. A loud splash makes him turn sharply to his left. The sound came from beyond the rocks; the small patch of sea he plunged into, feet first, when he jumped off the cliff a couple of days ago. He holds himself still and listens, anticipating a second shout or another splash. None comes.

Could it be Jeffers? They were separated in the jungle hours ago. Josh and Jack were chasing them and Jeffers leapt the fallen tree that blocked their path and kept on running. But there was no way Danny could get over it with his bleeding foot. He peeled off to the left instead, his pulse pounding in his ears as he continued to run. He headed away from the beach, charging deeper and deeper into the jungle, adrenaline and fear fuelling each painful step. He ran until his chest burnt and he couldn’t pull another breath into his lungs, then he dropped to his knees, panting, sweating and crying with exhaustion. He didn’t care if Jack and Josh caught up with him. He couldn’t take another step.

He lay on his back on the jungle floor, panting and gasping, staring up at the canopy of leaves above him, not caring whether a tarantula crawled over his face or a snake slid up the leg of his shorts. He ran his tongue over his dry lips but it didn’t wet them. His mouth was bone dry. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself to his feet and began to make his way back in the direction he’d just come from, jumping at every sound, freezing whenever a twig grazed his ankle or arm. He needed water. Without it, and in such insufferable heat, he’d die within twenty-four hours. Anuman had drummed that into them on the boat on the way over.

Arriving on the island felt like another lifetime. He’d been so excited, apprehensive too at the thought of spending a whole week with the others. It all seemed so ridiculously childish now, when their tour guide was dead and two absolute psychopaths were charging through the jungle trying to hurt his friends.

When he finally arrived at the waterfall it was all he could do not to fall head first into the swirling pool. Instead he looked cautiously around then dropped to his belly and scooped the cool water into his mouth. When he couldn’t drink any more he dunked his head into the pool, gasping with pleasure as the cold water soothed his parched skin. He didn’t enjoy it for long.

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