The Island

31. Cracks

Jordyn

We remain in that position for a few minutes, surrounded by the sound of my own crying and the water washing away the blood beneath us. Eventually, Ezra pulls away. He holds me firmly at arm's length away.

"We can't stay here," he says softly. "Whatever's behind that door is important. Neil was ready to die keeping us out. We have to go in."

I nod feebly, swallowing back a knot in my vocal cords.

"Are you going to be able to make it? I can't do this alone," he continues, letting go of me.

I take a shaky breath and look over at Sam's unconscious body. The three of us have to make it out of here. I have to get myself together.

"I'm fine," I whisper, looking back at Ezra. He nods and offers me a steady hand. How can he be keeping it together? How desensitized is he?

"I'll get the keycard," he says after I'm standing on my own. "You make sure Sam's alright. I think Neil just knocked him out."

I nod and shuffle away from my position. Keeping my eyes away from Neil's disfigured body is hard, especially when I can see the blood running over my dirty, slightly-blue feet. Gritting my teeth, I kneel beside Sam and focus on him. I unfold his limbs and cradle his head in my hands. He's heavier than I would have thought, but it's all dead weight.

When my hand meets the side of his head, it comes away dampened by red. The wound must be worse than Ezra thought. I press clean fingers against the soft skin of Sam's neck, feeling for his pulse. It surfaces beneath the layers of dirt, skin, and blood, kissing my fingers to comfort me.

"He's alive," I say to Ezra as his shadow appears behind me. "Bleeding pretty bad, but alive."

"Good," Ezra says, kneeling beside me. "Now, let's get him up."

With one of us on each side of him, we work together to lift Sam off the ground. Dragging him through the water is more difficult than picking him up, even though it's such a short distance. Ezra groans with every step, blood still trickling from the long cut that runs from his shoulder to his hip. The jumpsuit hangs open like the mouth of a dog, flapping with every ragged step.

When we reach the door, Ezra digs the keycard out of his pocket and thrusts it through the card reader. The red light on the side blinks yellow before turning green. Ezra pockets the card, and the doors slide open.

Inside the room is a wall of screens. Floor to ceiling videos of The Island surround us, casting strange colorful shapes onto the floor. Four abandoned black chairs sit around the room.

Ezra and I drag Sam to the nearest chair and put him down as gently as possible. The chair gives for a second under his weight. Maybe it's supposed to do that. Ezra walks away without a second thought, even though I gasp and reach for Sam like he's about to tumble to the ground.

"You were right," Ezra says as he circles around. I notice that he's standing at a small black table with three-dimensional letters. A keyboard, my mind tells me. "It's a control room."

He leans over the keyboard and taps one of the buttons. A bright beam of light shoots out of it, onto his chest. I squeal, but he just steps out of the way with a laugh.

"Holographics," he informs me. As I watch, a perfect replica of The Island forms on the empty space in the center of the room. It's exact--down to the shack leaning haphazardly against a tree and the shattered alcove we once slept under. I circle around the holograph at a loss for words.

"Watch this," he says, reaching above the image. He flicks a short tree, and it tumbles to the ground. The room around us trembles. "Oops. I didn't know that was right above us." With a shrug, Ezra turns back to the keyboard and picks up a small black box with a white circle in the center. He places his palm over the orb and rolls it. The Island turns under his touch, then zooms in and out.