Escape from Incel Island by Margaret Killjoy

Author:Margaret Killjoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strangers in a Tangled Wilderness
Published: 2023-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Things are not looking good for Mankiller Jones. No, indeed, they are not. She and her fellow mercenary, Dr. Morrison, infiltrated Incel Island to rescue data for the US Army only to discover they’d been set up. The US Army wants the two of them dead, because the US Army wants an excuse to bomb the entire island and be done with the open air prison once and for all. Unfortunately, the murderous incels of the island are all too willing to play their part in the government’s schemes.

Nearly all the various power players of Incel Island are after them: King Harold Dickson, who wears the golden crown, has set out to see them dead. So has Pepe, the king of the Volcels. The Nice Guys have allied themselves with the General, who has just landed on the beach in force cutting them off from escape. Greg, the tour guide with hi-tech weapons, has a legion of angry, entitled men in the forest armed with spears. Even our hero’s ally, John Kohn, recently turned on them—though he met a just fate at the tip of Mankiller’s spear.

Yet Mankiller and Morrison are not alone! Nice Guy Kevin has proven true to his moniker. And the Convent of sisters who are all on the island for various and strange reasons has offered them refuge.

If only that refuge were not currently besieged. If only it were not about to be set aflame.

How, then, will our heroes ever…

Escape From Incel Island?

•

“What do we have for accelerants?” I asked, opening every box and crate and eying every piece of furniture for how quick I could smash it apart and how fast it would burn. It’s fairly hard to set a log cabin on fire. Way harder than it sounds. At least, without gasoline.

“There’s straw in the mattresses,” Sister Killingsworth said.

“Good, that’s a start. Let’s get those up against the walls. Anything else?”

“Pig fat?” one of the sisters asked. “We could smear it on the walls, it might help fire spread faster.”

They were adapting quickly to the idea that we were going to burn their house, laboriously constructed, to the ground. Imminent death is good for clearing the mind, sometimes.

“Black powder,” the other nun, Sister Patton, said. She was nearly as tall as me, thin as a piece of taught rope.

“How the hell do you have black powder?” I asked. “And why haven’t we been using it?”

“The uh… the shark… figgers…” she started saying.

“The sharkfuckers,” one of the younger sisters supplied.

“They make it,” Sister Patton continued. “No one on the island has the capacity to smith a good enough barrel to make use of it yet, but we’ve been stockpiling some just in case. We trade them knitted blankets, rope, fresh pork, whatever we can for their fish and black powder.”

“I don’t think I want to know who the sharkfuckers are,” I said, “but they probably just saved your Convent. We didn’t need to burn the place down specifically, we just needed a distraction. A huge fucking explosion is one hell of a distraction.

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