Chapters (72)
- Dedication
- Prey Island Map
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- CREED
- SIX
- BILLIE
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- JIRO
- TWELVE
- BILLIE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- ROW
- TWENTY-TWO
- BILLIE
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACHILLES
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- CREED
- THIRTY-NINE
- BILLIE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ROW
- FIFTY
- BILLIE
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- TO CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE…
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY KENDRA
“Rifle is out of bullets. Pistol has. . .” he empties the clip. “Three bullets left. Knives aplenty.”
We glance at Achilles. “I don’t carry guns,” he says as if we don’t already know that. “My machete is sharp enough though.”
“So we need more weapons,” I say again. “Tomorrow, we’ll use the day to gather supplies.”
Jiro shifts in his spot, trying to get comfortable. “We’ll need something for crossing over to Predator Point. Here is my suggestion.” He leans forward and scratches at the rock. “We make tiny rafts made of wood. They’ll look like driftwood—”
“Wouldn’t they be able to see us on rafts?” Row asks with a frown.
“Yes,” Jiro nods. “But these aren’t for floating on top of. They’re for floating beneath.”
I straighten. “We’re going to be in the water with the sharks?”
Creed tilts his head. “If we move slowly, languidly, we won’t attract the attention of any sharks. They’ll be curious but they can be redirected.”
“Which reminds me, we need to move at night,” Jiro adds. “So you won’t be able to see the sharks anyway until they’re right up on you. Even then, you might miss them.”
I grimace. “Great. This just gets better and better.”
Jiro continues. “We’ll use the reeds to put makeshift straws through the raft so we can breathe as we move. The goal is to look just like driftwood floating around the water if the patrol comes. If one of us bleeds, we can get on top of the rafts to avoid the sharks.”
Achilles studies everyone. “Anyone sporting a wound? Mine is mostly healed.”
“Nothing fresh,” I say. “Everything is mostly pink with new skin.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to start off on the wrong foot,” Achilles grunts, laying back down. “Or without a foot.”
Row’s face pales. “I don’t think I can do this. . .”
“Then we can leave you on the island,” Creed says, staring at him. “You’re a Hound now. That means they’re not going to kill you.”
“I. . .” His eyes rove around the group and land on me. “No, I’m going.”
Creed claps him on the shoulder. “That’s what I thought. Now, another issue.” He holds up his gun. “Salt water is hell on guns and we’re going to have to fasten them beneath the raft. When we reach the shore for Predator Point, we’ll have to shake out as much water as possible or they could seize up on us. They’ll be useless in a matter of hours once the corrosion starts kicking in.”