Page 60 of The Island

“We have to, don’t we?”

“But your plan was to take the ferry. They control the ferry. We have no other way of getting off the island.”

“Maybe we could get some branches and make a raft or try to swim it,” Olivia suggested.

“You saw the tiger sharks?” Hans said.

Olivia nodded.

“We’ll think of something else,” Heather said. Neither of the kids was a great swimmer, and the current looked strong. “But we have to get away from here.”

Hans shook his head. “No. This is not an American Rambo game. This is foolishness.”

“What’s your plan, then?” Heather asked.

“We should announce ourselves clearly and distinctly with our hands over our heads and then we should walk down there and demand to be taken over on the ferry.”

Heather stared at him. “Are you insane? You know what’s going to happen if you go down there.”

“What?”

“They’ll kill you.”

“No, they won’t. I haven’t done anything.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“We have no water. No food. In this heat, we will be dead by nightfall,” Hans said.

“We’ll find water,” Heather said.

“There’s no fresh water here. The only spring is at the farm in their aquifer. How could we last one day without water in these temperatures?”

Heather had no answer to that.

Both kids were paying attention and looking frightened.

“What are the men doing now?” Olivia asked.

“Matt’s down on the sand trying to figure out if we swam for it,” Heather said.

“We should have put some tracks on the beach,” Olivia whispered.

“We should have. I didn’t think of it,” Heather admitted.

“We tried it your way. It did not work,” Hans said. “We have no alternative but to give ourselves up and make them see reason.”

Heather turned to Petra, who nodded. Petra appeared to be on the side of her husband now. Heather had lost the argument. She looked east. The massive yellow sun was already several degrees above the horizon and beginning to torch the island. It was indeed going to be another searing day. Concealed by the long grass, Heather reached into her pocket and pulled out the penknife. She slid out the short blade.

“I have decided. We are going to go down there and surrender,” Hans said, getting up.

Heather dived on him and pushed the penknife against his throat. “No!” she said.

“You’re going to kill me?” Hans said, apparently unfazed.

“You know how sharp this thing is. You saw what it could do.”

“You’re going to cut my throat?” Hans said.

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