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Back Surrender Your Sons Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. Author’s Note with Content Warnings
  2. CHAPTER ONE
  3. CHAPTER TWO
  4. CHAPTER THREE
  5. CHAPTER FOUR
  6. CHAPTER FIVE
  7. CHAPTER SIX
  8. CHAPTER SEVEN
  9. CHAPTER EIGHT
  10. CHAPTER NINE
  11. CHAPTER TEN
  12. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  13. CHAPTER TWELVE
  14. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  17. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  19. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  20. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  21. CHAPTER TWENTY
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  31. CHAPTER THIRTY
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  41. CHAPTER FORTY
  42. EPILOGUE
  43. Acknowledgments

Molly strangles her spear, resigning herself to wait with the others. “The boat’s on its way back,” I say, addressing the campers as a group. Their faces contort in the flames; several of them look nauseated with suspense. “Does anyone have a watch?”

“I can tell time good,” Alan offers meekly from the back.

“Perfect. After we go inside, you let Lacrishia know as soon as thirty minutes have gone by.”

“Why?” Lacrishia asks.

“If we aren’t back in thirty minutes, leave us and get everyone to the boat.”

Variations of “No WAY” explode from the crowd in a chorus, ending with Marcos groaning, “You gotta be kidding me…”

“I’m not saying, like, we’re all dead in there, but Lacrishia is right: some of us have to get off this island tonight, and a group of us staying behind stands better odds at living than if we all left Darcy alone. You all have the evidence, you can warn the right people. Molly, you know the FBI is trying to find this place. Help them find it.”

“That’s the plan,” Lacrishia agrees soberly. After seeming to bite back a chest pain, Molly finally nods.

“In and out,” I tell Marcos, squeezing his hand. “Then we go home.”

Marcos steels himself, raps his spear against the ground, and nods. He unhinges the lighter from his belt loop, flicks it open, and the path to the bunker illuminates. “Like old times,” he says, dimples flaring.

The night we met, Marcos guided me through the darkness with his lighter.

I vault myself onto tiptoes and press my lips to his. The softness is brutally brief.

As we reach the bunker’s gate, the mangrove roots (which really, really look bloodstained) space further apart, allowing us a pocket of space to slip inside. The gate opens wider with shocking ease. I expected it to creak like a haunted house, but instead, it glides open with such soundlessness that I’m put even more on edge. Before I step inside, Marcos lets out a sharp “Whoa.” I stop myself with a jerk and follow his gaze to an iron plate above the gate. The message is Nightlight’s familiar greeting: SURRENDER YOUR SINS. But this sign has been vandalized with a dark, textured substance glistening in the flame, making it read:

“Okay,” Marcos says, “that might be blood.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THE BUNKER