She backed away from the stairs and slowly closed the door.
Using an extra bedsheet she had, she tied off the staircase door’s handle, making it harder for someone on the other side to open it. She dragged her roommate’s dresser out of their room and leaned it against the door. It might not have stopped anyone, but at the very least, it would crash down when the door opened, alerting her that someone was coming.
A bigger problem was the elevator. She could call it up and pull the stop button, but she had no idea who might have been inside in the past several days. Perhaps the virus was waiting for her on the control panel.
The thought made her pause. An hour before, she’d only been worried about where she should break the next paragraph of her story, and now she was living in fear of killer microbes.
The best she could do with the elevator was to tie her roommate’s mattress in front of the opening. She wasn’t satisfied with it at all, but she didn’t know what else to do.
For the next ninety minutes, she sat on the floor watching the news, her pizza forgotten. When she finally turned it off, she didn’t go to bed. Instead, she sat down with her laptop, opened a new file, and began to type.
She knew she would never finish the story she’d been working on. She had something different to write now.
Something that would consume her.
Eleven
ISABELLA ISLAND, COSTA RICA
11:27 PM CENTRAL STANDARD TIME
“ANYTHING?” ROBERT ASKED.
A second of static, then Enrique’s voice came over the radio. “No. Nothing.”
“What about you, Evan?”
“Still clear over here, too,” Evan reported.
Thankfully the moon had come up an hour earlier, giving the spotters plenty of light to see most vessels that might approach the island.
“Great. I’ll check back in a bit.”
It had been a wild, unreal few days.
Isabella Island was a small private bump of land, sticking out of the ocean thirty-five miles off the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica. It had been purchased several years earlier by the Albino Entertainment Group—owners of hotels in Las Vegas, Macau, Greece, and the French Riviera—and turned into an island-wide resort that shared the island’s name. Twice a day, a private ferry would shuttle new guests to Isabella, and take those who had checked out back to the mainland.
The island was far enough offshore that Costa Rica was below the horizon, and, if guests wanted to, they could pretend they had found a bit of paradise in the middle of nowhere. Every Christmas, the resort ran a special deal aimed directly at singles who were looking for alternatives to spending the holidays with relatives they’d rather avoid. In fact, the humorous ad campaign they ran each year had won numerous Clio Awards, and was the main reason the island was always at full capacity during the holidays.
The management had expected to have every room occupied by Christmas Eve. What they hadn’t counted on was a worldwide terror attack.
On Thursday, December 22nd, the resort had been running at sixty percent capacity, with the bulk of guests due to arrive the morning of Christmas Eve. As usual, most of those already on the island spent their day by the water—sunbathing, jet skiing, swimming, and surfing.
One of the appealing features of the hotel was that none of the rooms had televisions. In fact, there were only five on the entire island. One in the manager’s office, one in the lobby that normally played a feed from a computer that listed the day’s available activities, and the other three in the open-air bar on the veranda overlooking the ocean.
On that Thursday, instead of being tuned to sporting events, the bar’s TVs were playing a marathon of Christmas movies off Blu-ray discs, so news of what was happening in the rest of the world didn’t reach anyone on the island until Dominic Ray, the manager, received a call from his brother over the satellite phone at a quarter to five in the afternoon. Before he’d hung up, Dominic had turned on the television in his office, and watched in stunned silence at the unfolding drama surrounding the mysterious shipping containers.
The businessman in him wanted to keep the news to himself, and let his guests continue to enjoy their stay. But he was, at heart, a man of good conscience, so there was no way he could keep this quiet.
He picked up the hotel phone and called Renee, his assistant manager.
“In five minutes, I want you to sound the tsunami alarm.”
“The alarm? Why?”
“I want to do a drill.”
“We never do drills this late in the day. We haven’t even briefed the new guests.” The last ferry of the day had made its stop fifteen minutes early, leaving eleven new guests while taking away seventeen.
“I don’t care. Just do it.”
Because of the tsunami that had struck the Indian Ocean back in 2004, the resort’s owners had been required to install an alarm and conduct weekly drills. After each group of guests finished checking in, they were given a briefing and a pamphlet that explained what was to be done if the alarm went off—make their way as quickly as possible to the hotel restaurant. The hotel itself was built in tiers up the side of the island’s only hill, with the restaurant at the top where the view was best.
Dominic reached the restaurant just as the alarm went off.
There was minor confusion at first, not only with the unprepared guests, but also with the staff who had not expected a test. Most of the employees, after a few seconds of surprise, decided it must be real, and started directing the guests where to go.
As people began streaming into the restaurant, Renee, who arrived right after the alarm was activated, counted them off. Since the island was private, management knew the exact number of visitors.
The guests were a mix of the winded, the scared, the confused, and the annoyed. Those closest to Dominic asked him what was going on, but all he said was, “In a minute.”
Finally, Renee worked her way through the crowd to where he was standing. “I think that’s it.”
“Everyone?”
“No. We’re missing five guests. Apparently there was a small group that went around to the far side.”
Dominic frowned. He had hoped everyone would be there, but it wasn’t surprising. “Thanks, Renee.”
He pulled out a chair from a nearby table, and climbed onto it so he was high enough for all to see him.
“Everyone! Everyone, if I could have your attention.”
The noise in the room lowered but didn’t die.
“Please,” he said. “This is important.”
It took another moment, but finally they all quieted down.
“First of all, there is no tsunami.”
Voices again, most relieved, but a few angry.
“So this was just a drill?” someone shouted.
“It’s not a drill, either.”
That garnered him several curious looks. He waited until he had everyone’s attention again, then said, “There’s something you need to know.”
It wasn’t exactly a mad rush down to the bar after the meeting, but close to it. Once everyone was reassembled there, Robert, the bartender and Dominic’s best friend, switched off Miracle on 34th Street and turned on CNN International.
Though the crowd numbered nearly two hundred, for the first ninety minutes there weren’t more than a dozen words spoken. The only reason that changed later was because Dominic told Robert that for the rest of the night, it would be an open bar. Surprisingly, only a handful of people drank more than they should have. The rest nursed their booze while they digested the unbelievable news.
It wasn’t until late that night before people started returning to their rooms. Eventually, only Dominic, Robert, and Renee remained. They sat together at a table, a bottle of barely touched Johnnie Walker Blue Label whiskey in front of them.
“So I’ve been thinking,” Robert said.
“What?” Dominic asked.
“The ferry. What happens when it comes in the morning?”
&nbs
p; “You’re thinking a lot of people will want to go home?” Renee said.
“Well, yeah.”
“Anyone who wants to go should be able to,” Dominic said. “The boat can hold up to a hundred, if need be.”
Robert nodded, and was quiet for a moment. “Good, but that’s not really what I’m concerned about.”
“Okay,” Dominic said. “What, then?”
“What if there are new guests on the boat?”
Dominic shrugged. “We give them rooms.”
Again, Robert took a second before he spoke. “I don’t think anyone on that boat, guest or crew, should get off.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dominic, there’s none of those containers here on the island.” Though there had been no search done since they’d heard the news, the staff knew the island well. If there had been a container there, it would have been spotted already. “Costa Rica, on the other hand, is one of the places that’s reported having them. What if that woman in that video they’ve been playing is right, and the containers have been spitting out the Sage Flu? Right now, we’re all safe. But if someone on the boat tomorrow morning came in contact with that stuff, then…”
Renee stared at him. “What if the boat’s tainted?”
“Right, of course,” Robert said. “We can’t even let it dock.”
“That video might be a crock. Even CNN hasn’t been able to confirm it,” Dominic argued. “It could be nothing.”
“I hope it is nothing,” Robert said. “But why take the chance? If we’re wrong, no harm.”
“If we’re wrong, we’ll get fired.”
“Better fired than letting something on this island that might harm us.”
“Or kill us,” Renee added.
Dominic looked at her. “You agree with him?”
“Dominic, you’re the one who told us about it in the first place,” she said. “You know this isn’t nothing.”
Dominic looked back at the monitor. CNN was showing a montage of the found boxes. Each time another came up, a graphic identified the new location. New York, Mexico City, Madrid, Cairo, Hong Kong, Lima. The list of locations went on and on.
He looked back at Robert and Renee. “What do we do about the people who want to leave?”
EARLY THE NEXT morning, all one hundred and ninety-three people on the island gathered once more in the restaurant. Taking turns, Dominic, Renee, and Robert explained the situation as they saw it, then Dominic presented the options.
“You can either stay or leave, that’s up to you, but if you do leave, you cannot come back. The boat should be here at 8:30. If you want to be on it, you need to be down at the dock no later than 8:10. That’s in thirty-five minutes. Questions?”
There were plenty, but most were from people needing to hear again what Dominic and the others had already said, so they cut off the questions after ten minutes.
Isabella Island was graced with a magnificent sheltered bay. The ferry’s route took it between the two offset arms of land jutting out from either side of the bay that created a natural channel between the Caribbean and the bay itself. The dock was located across the bay from the channel exit. At the moment, one of the resort’s speedboats and all three of its scuba boats were tied to the pier, waiting.
One hundred feet to the west was the swimming platform—a wooden deck built on top of two dozen airtight drums. Or at least that’s where it had been until shortly after the sun had come up, when Robert and two of the guys who helped maintain the water sports equipment had cut it from the ties that held it in place, and towed it out closer to the passageway. There, they used a couple of anchors to hold it down. Robert had tested it. He reported it was a bit wobbly, but it would do.
The first of those wanting to leave arrived at the dock a few minutes before eight.
“You can get on Scuba One,” Dominic told them.
After Scuba One was filled, Dominic and Robert directed new arrivals to Scuba Two, then Scuba Three. When the last boat was nearing capacity, Dominic worried that a second trip might be needed, but they were able to squeeze everyone on. All told, there were sixty-three who wanted off—fifty-seven guests and six staff.
Robert looked at his watch, then back at the sea. “We should be able to see them by now.”
Dominic put a hand over his eyes to cut the glare. The bay was on the east side, facing away from Costa Rica, so the boat had to come all the way around the calmer end of the island on the right. There was no sign of it yet.
When the ferry still hadn’t shown up ten minutes later, Dominic had one of the employees hand out bottles of soda to those waiting on the boats. Water would have been better, but as Renee had pointed out, it would be smart to hold on to the water they had for now.
“Maybe they’re not coming,” one of the staff members standing on the beach with them said.
It was a definite possibility, Dominic thought. Who knew how crazy things had gotten on the mainland?
But a few minutes later, Robert said, “There it is.”
The medium-sized, two-deck passenger ferry had just peeked around the corner of the island. They watched it until it was almost to the seaside mouth of the passage.
“You’d better go,” Robert said.
Dominic hesitated for a second, then nodded and jogged out to the speedboat where Jalen Dunn, the speedboat pilot and water-ski instructor, was waiting. As soon as he was on board, the boat pulled away from the dock and raced across the bay.
Dominic glanced at the repositioned swimming platform as they passed by. Was that really all that would be standing between them and potential death? He didn’t have time to ponder it, though, as the speedboat suddenly entered the choppier water of the passage.
Ahead, he could see the ferry entering the other end.
“How far do you want to go?” Jalen yelled.
“This is probably good,” Dominic hollered back. “We want to make sure they get in far enough that they don’t just turn around and leave.”
Jalen throttled the boat down to a point where the motor held them in place with the moving current. Picking up the electronic megaphone Robert had put in the boat earlier, Dominic nervously played with the switch.
The wait seemed to take forever. When the ferry was about two hundred feet away, he could stand it no more. “Now,” he said.
Jalen revved up the engine, and drove the speedboat all the way around the ferry and back up the other side, slowing and matching the bigger boat’s pace as it came abreast with the bridge.
As they’d circled around, Dominic had tried to determine how many people were on board. He saw a handful at most, which made him feel better. They had been expecting at least fifty people on this trip alone.
On the bridge, he could see one of the ferry’s crew glancing over at their boat. He raised the megaphone.
“Attention, Albino Mer,” he said, using the ferry’s name. His voice echoed across the water, just above the sounds of the engines. “Attention, Albino Mer.”
This time the door at the side of the bridge opened, and Carlos Guzman, the boat’s captain, looked out.
“Good morning, Carlos. It’s Dominic.”
Carlos put his hands around his mouth and shouted back, “What’s going on?”
“There’s a problem with our dock,” Dominic said, using the story he, Robert, and Renee had worked up. They worried if they went with the truth, the Albino Mer would leave without taking those who wanted to go home with them. “One of the pillars has rotted through. Stable enough for our smaller boats, but didn’t think we should chance it with you.”
“So what are we supposed to do?”
“Already got it worked out,” Dominic said.
A few minutes later, as the two boats cleared the end of the passage, the floating platform came into view. Scuba One was already pulled up next to it, with the other two boats approaching quickly.
“We’re going to use the platform to transfer everyone,” Dominic said through t
he megaphone.
“Would be easier if the boats just tie up to our ramp in back.”
Of course the captain was right. “Pull up beside the platform,” Dominic said as if he hadn’t heard the other man. He glanced at Jalen. “Take us over there.”
Jalen increased their speed, taking them toward the platform and cutting off any further conversation. By the time the Albino Mer completely cleared the channel, the speedboat was tucking in behind Scuba One.
“Get them out there,” Dominic yelled across to Robert. He didn’t want to give Carlos any excuse to try anything other than using the platform.
The Albino Mer slowed as it approached the other side of the platform. For a moment, it looked as though it might even stop before it got there, but it continued to slide forward through the water.
“Once it gets here, start boarding right away,” Robert said loudly enough for the passengers who were already on the platform to hear. To those still on his boat, he said, “Off. Everyone off.”
The moment the last guest left Scuba One, Robert pulled away, and Scuba Two moved into its place.
As soon as the Albino Mer stopped, Dominic caught a glance of three people who were definitely not crew members looking like they intended to get off. But as planned, those waiting on the platform rushed on to the ferry the moment a crew member removed the chain from the boarding gate, preventing anyone from disembarking.
Passengers from Scuba Two immediately took the platform space vacated by the passengers from Scuba One. Once they were all off their ship, it moved to the side, and Scuba Three moved in, unloaded, and pulled away.
In this manner, there was a continuous stream of passengers right up until the end.
Dominic tensed as the last five people climbed on board the ferry. As he’d expected, the three he’d seen earlier approached the now freed-up gate. He raised the megaphone again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “The resort is currently closed. You will need to stay on the ship.”
The one in the lead, a blond and burly guy of maybe twenty-five, shouted, “What are you talking about? I’ve got a reservation. I’ve already paid for this. I’m coming off.”
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2 Page 9
