Island of Shipwrecks by Lisa McMann Page A

risk from the enemy in Artimé, where, as you may recall, they are now sending beasts to kill us! We must hurry to tear down the wall and move toward an organized attack before they have time to prepare a defense against us. Once we have defeated them, we will finally be at peace.”
    He looked around the bland faces of the people of Quill, and for a moment, Aaron felt disgusted by them all—every last one of them had no opinion, no goals, no fire inside them. Not like he did. His fire to take over the island was stronger than ever. Why couldn’t he get them to call up their anger, like he had done within himself? He felt like giving them all slivers in their fingers to see if that would garner a response.
    â€œLook alive!” he pleaded, and the people of Quill started,afraid. “Allow your rage to build so we can let it loose against the enemy!”
    A few more weak responses came from the audience, but it was disorganized at best, and soon everyone was quiet again.
    Aaron sighed, exasperated. This wasn’t going at all the way he’d planned. Maybe the Quillens had used up all fifty years’ worth of their rage in the last battle.
    â€œJust . . . okay, we’ll work on the rage part. But now, you will please help me take the wall down,” he said, beginning to feel very impatient. “Necessaries, you will join the Quillitary efforts, beginning in the area next to the gates of Artimé and moving out in both directions, all the way around the island. It will be dangerous, but you’ll see it will be worth it in the end. When I’m finished here, please make your way to the Quillitary officers and await your instructions.”
    Mrs. Stowe gave her husband a searching glance, then silently reached for the twin he was holding. He put the girl into Mrs. Stowe’s arms alongside the other, and before he let go, he gripped his wife’s hand and squeezed. Mrs. Stowe looked up into his face. She squeezed back.
    Aaron, feeling more and more like he was losing the attentionof his entire audience, wrapped up his speech. “And everyone—get ready to fight.”
    This time he didn’t wait for any lackluster reaction. Instead he marched out of the amphitheater to the road and climbed into the car that waited for him. He put his arm out the window and waved Liam over to join him, leaving Gondoleery behind to go in the next car.
    â€œTake us to the Quillitary,” Aaron barked to the driver.
    The ride was silent but for the chug and squeal of the jalopy. Aaron stared stone-faced out the window, and Liam looked at his hands, clasped in his lap.
    Soon they arrived at the Quillitary grounds. Aaron and Liam went inside and made their way to the little house where General Blair lived. The door stood ajar. Aaron pushed it and found the general alone.
    The man looked up from the table where he was eating a lunch of Favored food. “Well?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What kind of response did you get? Lots of cheers?”
    Aaron’s face burned. “My people are exactly as responsive as we trained them to be,” he said. “What more would you expect? A shout? A rousing song? None of that’s allowed, soof course their silent stares indicate all are properly ready to proceed with this plan.”
    â€œFair enough.” The general finished chewing and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “When the wall is down, and when you have solved my oil problem, we’ll talk about this plan of attack.”
    â€œGood,” Aaron said, but he’d forgotten about the oil problem. He looked down his nose and said with a hint of disdain, “I’ve prepared the Necessaries to start the work on the wall. Your Quillitary is instructing them now, so I’m assuming you have an excellent idea of how to carry out the task after so many years of wanting the wall down.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll