“So wait. That thing in the water—it wasn’t some sort of robot?” she gasped, gawking. Of course she looked beautiful gawking. Her skin was so creamy and smooth. Her eyes seemed to glow luminously, even without a trace of makeup. And her hair—well, everyone wanted Lavender’s long, luscious lavender hair.
“Not a robot,” I said sheepishly. “But I’m not really sure what it was.”
“He’s the expert,” Elena said, pointing at Paul.
Lavender turned and looked at Paul, too. He had a goofy smile on his face. I nudged Elena. Even tough Paul was disarmed by Lavender!
Lavender turned back to me. “Explain how this all went down. I’ve been worried about everyone on the island. For a few days, my Twitter wasn’t working, but suddenly, about a half hour ago, my signal came back. Right around the time I saw that big thing knock over that boat!”
I blinked. The big thing, obviously, was the creature. On a hunch, I pulled out my own phone, which had only 3 percent battery. The screen was cracked, there were a few big dings in the case, but it was still working after all the abuse it had taken—I guess there was something to be said for modern cell phone technology. To my surprise, there were two bars in the upper-left corner. Texts started to ping in: from my parents, from my sister and brother, from Hayden, and then the cycle began again and again, each text growing more panicked.
“Whoa,” I whispered. A phone signal felt like a miracle.
“The world is worried about Myla,” Lavender said. “The people who were able to make it back home, or at least to the west side, have written about the conditions. And then there are rumors about some sort of murderer running rampant? And those rumors mixed with rumors about some sort of animal … and then I see that thing rise out of the water?” She smiled nervously, tucking her beautiful purplish hair behind her shoulder. “Anyway, I’ve already called in some of my best people from the children’s charity I run. I want them down here. We need to organize rescue efforts. Though I don’t know why I’m the only one handling it. I mean, where’s Zack Frazier?”
“Actually…” I lowered my eyes awkwardly. “Zack was killed.”
Lavender’s eyes bulged. “By that thing in the water?”
“Not exactly,” I said. It suddenly occurred to me that Lavender knew who Captain Marx was. They were touted as being great friends. How was she going to handle the fact that this major producer was also a murderer? A mass murderer, actually. I swallowed hard.
But when I opened my mouth and the story spilled out, Lavender didn’t seem surprised. The corners of her mouth settled into a frown, and she shook her head with dismay … then disgust … and then astonishment. “My lord,” she whispered. “You think you know someone. How many lives are lost again?”
I tried to tally them up in my head. “Two that we know of on land … but there were definitely more.” I cringe, thinking of the growls and screams I’d heard on land. “And then Captain Marx … and all of his crew. And Mosley and Zack.” I looked guiltily at Paul and Elena—because, after all, I was the one who’d trusted Mosley to ferry us to Marx’s yacht in the first place. I wondered how he figured into the whole scheme … and why he’d led all those people to danger. Marx must have been paying him. And now, ironically, he wouldn’t get to benefit from the cash.
“So maybe … ten? Twenty?” Lavender was slack jawed. “All by this thing?”
“Diab.” I glanced toward the water as though it were still lurking there, waiting for us. For all I knew, it might have been. But I was beginning to believe what Paul said about it not being hungry anymore. The ocean felt almost like glass. The air seemed crisper, clearer. I even wondered if the creature’s contentment had something to do with the returned phone signal—like its bulk had somehow been blocking the satellite connection.
“You know, Diab might be gone now, but that doesn’t mean anyone is safe.” I gazed in the direction of Myla, but because of the darkness—and the power outage—I could only see where the land mass interrupted the sky, not any real details. “There’s no water. No medical staff. The concertgoers are getting mutinous. There are tons of fights. A lot of people are hurt, sick…” I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth. “It’s really devastating.”
Lavender nodded and started tapping on her phone. “Like I said, we’re going to get them out of there. Don’t worry, Adri. We’re going to help.”
Lavender knowing my name sent a tingle up my spine. I grinned. “Thank you,” I gushed. “You’re saving us all.”
* * *
Over the next few hours, Lavender was able to reach the remaining yachts nearby and mobilize massive rescue efforts. Her charity team arrived, too—on a fancy seaplane that landed right next to the yacht—and Lavender had them make up the rooms on the ship to serve as emergency stations for all of the sick, dehydrated, and bedraggled concertgoers coming aboard. Her personal assistant made calls to private planes in the area to arrange for flights back to various cities since some of the Mylan systems were down, but once she did, she learned that the Mylan systems had righted themselves again—interestingly, at about the same time our cell signal had come back. Perhaps the monster had been disrupting signals, too? Perhaps Captain Marx knew of this remarkable ability the creature had. Perhaps this total lack of connection and escape had played neatly into his grand scheme of running the festival—and its guests—into the ground.
At about three in the morning, some Red Cross boats set out to collect people from the island. The Mylan police arrived, too, as did the country’s defense force. I watched nervously as the vessels cut across the water and followed a line of torches as it wended over the dunes toward the concert site. I momentarily felt worried, but then I remembered—the monster wasn’t a threat anymore. And there was no murderer waiting in the trees. The rescue team on the island would be safe from those things, anyway.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do?” Elena and I kept asking Lavender, who was pacing the deck of her yacht, phone plastered to her ear. But she shook her head emphatically.
“You two saved us,” she said. “If it weren’t for your bravery facing down that monster in the water—and Marx—he’d probably be scheming to blow up the whole island.”
Lavender laughed, but I could see the uneasiness in her face. I still hadn’t grasped what Marx had done, either. The planning it had required … and the sheer duplicity of it all. Solstice was actually a scam. Even to Zack Frazier. How many more people would have perished before the weekend was through if we hadn’t stopped Marx? How many more lives would have been lost because of his greed?
I wandered back to the chaise lounges on the top deck to sit with Elena and Paul—we were way too keyed up to sleep. My phone flashed with incoming texts—I’d managed to reach out to my parents, telling them I was okay, and they’d sent back Hallelujah responses with almost no scolding. I received another interesting text, too: Maybe it was a scam, but it said it was someone from CNN. Heard you are a writer and already did some digging on the Solstice situation. Want to write something for us? We’ll publish your byline.
I wasn’t sure to believe it, though. So I called Hayden. “Oh my God,” he said. “I was so worried about you. What the heck is going on there?”
“I’ll explain everything in a little bit,” I said, overjoyed to hear his voice. Only a few hours ago, I thought I’d never hear it again. “But before that—did you by any chance contact CNN on my behalf?”
There was a pause. Hayden laughed sleepily. It occurred to me that he was awake in the dead of night. “Maybe I did,” he said. “But it was before the news came in that people were dying. You should write back to the CNN guy if he’s gotten in touch, though. No one could write this story better than you.”
I couldn’t help but grin. So it was real. What did I have to lose? And hell, I certainly had a story to tell.
“You know, Adri,” Hayden added. “I’m so, so sorry I sent you down there. You could have been killed.”
I licked my lips.
It was hell … but it was also still the experience of a lifetime. Just never in the way I’d expected it to be. “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I got a lot of perspective. And now I’m thrilled to be coming home.” I hiccupped nervously. “I’m, um, really excited to see you.”
I could tell Hayden was smiling. “I’m excited to see you, too.”
As I came around the corner to the chaises, Elena and Paul jumped up like they’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.
“Uh, hi…?” I said, a confused smile spreading across my face. I noticed Elena straightening her blouse. Paul wiped his mouth. I wanted to giggle. I swiveled from Elena to Paul, then back to Elena again. They were an unlikely pair, Paul so rough around the edges and surly, Elena such a sweet, slightly naive glamour girl. But then, who was I to judge? Paul was a great person. He cared about his island. He even cared about the rich teens who’d invaded his island and made ridiculous generalizations about his people. He was way better than Steve, that was for sure. I gave Elena a surreptitious thumbs-up. You have my blessing, I hoped I was telegraphing. Go for it.
As I clomped back down to the main deck, I saw a lantern swinging from one of the very first boats that had come to dock. The little craft was crammed with huddled Solstice guests. They filed off dazedly, barely noticing Lavender standing over them in all of her splendor.
“Found these guys bobbing at sea,” one of Lavender’s assistants, a bearded guy named Jessie, proclaimed. “I think they were trying to get back to land, but they got a little turned around.”
Water dripped off people’s clothes and bodies. Some collapsed on the deck instantly And then I noticed a familiar, dark-haired figure pushing ahead of some others like he owned the place. “Hey,” Steve sneered to Jessie, his lips turned down crankily. “Where’s my water? You promised us water.”
Jessie just rolled his eyes, and then helped the next person off. “In a minute, dude. Be patient.”
Steve wrinkled his nose like a reprimanded toddler. Good, I thought. I knew it wasn’t right—I should feel sorry for Steve, as he’d been stranded at sea for hours—but it felt like poetic justice that Jessie was ignoring him. And the most poetic justice of all? That soon enough, he’d see his girlfriend in somebody else’s arms.
CNN BREAKING NEWS: NINE DEAD ON MYLA ISLAND, MUSIC MOGUL TO BLAME.
By Adrianna Sanchez
MYLA ISLAND: They went to Myla Island to have the weekend of a lifetime. Flocks of wealthy teens and twentysomethings eagerly boarded planes bound for Myla in hopes of spending three days in luxury accommodations, hoping to soak up the sun, eat gourmet food, and listen to their favorite bands.
But that’s not how it worked out at all.
The world held its bated breath to hear about the spectacle of the Solstice Festival. It seemed like a dream come true: all the planet’s hottest acts on a tropical island, playing to thousands, offering up-close-and-personal private performances, against the backdrop of deep woods and brilliant sunsets. But for the first day, social media was silent. There were barely any tweets or posts about the concert. It was hard to know what was happening there. Soledad Carson, from Philadelphia, PA, was a concert attendee. “That’s because no one had a cell signal,” she said. “Not a single one of my friends. We couldn’t call our families, couldn’t call each other if we were separated … It was scary.”
Things got even worse when fans got to the actual concert site. Instead of seeing towering hotels, glittering swimming pools, and a professional stage setup, they were plunked onto a barren field with few public bathrooms, a single food truck, and zero shade. “I got sunburned, like, immediately,” said Jordan Lowe, 23, from Los Angeles, CA. “There was really nowhere to escape.”
It didn’t take long for concertgoers to start grumbling about the conditions. Many blamed Zack Frazier, the mastermind behind the festival—or so everyone thought—though Frazier later stated that he had arranged for proper accommodations to arrive and that he was baffled that everything was late. “It’s like people didn’t even get my messages,” he said.
The line for the ferry to take them back to the airport began to build, but that was when a new complication arose: The systems were down at the airport. Flights were grounded, potentially for days. Combined with sudden, pop-up storms in the area, people were literally stranded on Myla Island with little food, water, or medical supplies.
And then the real trouble started.
Myla is divided into two principalities: There is Myla West, which is fairly developed, with several towns, a capital, and lively commerce. And then there is Myla East, which has long been barren and plagued with troubles. The Solstice Festival was on the eastern side of the island, which baffled many of the Mylans—and which was not expressed clearly to interested concertgoers when they bought their festival passes. Because Myla East is its own entity—bought by a front conglomerate two years ago—the western residents had no jurisdiction over what decisions were made with the concert, nor were they consulted for thoughts on how they could help make the concert a success.
Naturally, when concertgoers realized that the festival site lacked resources, they began looking elsewhere on the island for help. Their uneasiness was intensified when it was announced that another concertgoer, Eric Jedry, had died in an accident during a hike on some rocks near the beach. But as it turned out, Jedry’s death was not because of a fall. And when the concertgoers headed off over the dunes, they would face the same enemy Eric did: a yet-unidentified creature called Diab that has long been part of Mylan lore.
Able to move on land and sea, Diab is a massive predator and extremely dangerous to humans. It attacked seven concert guests, including Jedry, within twenty-four hours. But not a single festival guest knew of this danger before heading to Solstice. Nor were they warned, when they set foot on Myla East, that they should never, ever leave the festival site. Many blame Zack Frazier for this oversight, but there is someone else who was acutely aware of this creature’s danger.
Captain James Marx, music mogul.
Marx, 54, is the producer behind twenty-four Grammy-winning albums. He has been touted as the man who launched the careers of dozens of young singers, including Lavender, who was attending the Solstice Festival as a headliner. He was the silent owner of Myla East. And it was Marx, documents show, who persuaded Frazier to hold Solstice on this part of the island—prior to this, Frazier had been considering other locales, including Barbados, Witch’s Rock in Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic. Through emails obtained by this news organization, Marx—though not using his real name but an alias he developed to represent his front company—convinced Frazier that Myla East was untapped, unknown, and therefore very, very VIP. “It will be like their own private island for a weekend,” he wrote. He did not add, however, that it would be their own private island they’d have to share with a monster. Marx’s browser history shows that he was very aware of the creature’s existence: Many of the pages he recently browsed were of the lore of the creature that lurked on the island.
Paul Mackey, Myla Island resident and student of marine biology at the University of Myla, studies the possibility of the creature and its behavioral anomalies. In early June, Mackey signed on to work for the concert, allegedly because he wanted to make sure the guests remained safe. “I tried to warn Zack Frazier about the thing on our side of the island,” Mackey said. “And it seemed like he’d hear me, but the next day, he’d blow it off. It seemed like someone got to him. I only realized later that it was probably Marx.” Frazier respected Marx, those close to the business scion and internet genius say. He took his opinions very seriously. And so if Marx said there was no creature and no reason to worry, Frazier believed him.
Even when the deaths started to occur, Frazier, probably at Marx’s encouragement, kept a level head and tried to find other answers for why they might be happening. But once the mass murder of six concertgoers in the wooded area outside the concert side occurred, he might have changed his mind.
Details are unclear, but several sources saw Frazier run from the concert site and over the dunes. “He was heading toward the yachts,” a guest said.
That was the last time anyone saw him alive.
Several concertgoers, including the writer of this article, confronted Marx on his yacht to explain that Diab was real. That was when they encountered Frazier’s dead body. “My theory is that Frazier finally believed what I’d been telling him, went to convince Marx, maybe figured out Marx had known it all along, and was killed for it,” Mackey, who was among the group that confronted Marx, said. Evidence also shows that Marx had hired a local Myla resident, Mosley Louis, to lead a group of concertgoers through the trees—“toward safety”—but instead lured them straight into the monster’s jaws. “Sources say Marx was paying him handsomely,” Mackey says. “But I can’t believe anyone on my island would do that to innocent kids.”
It is believed that Marx was orchestrating the mass deaths on Myla Island in order to claim the purchase of the land as a loss on his insurance. Records show that he had a policy that insured Myla East for 2.3 billion dollars, as Marx expected to develop the land for tourism. With the presence of a monster, however, there was no way any of those plans could come to fruition. He would have made a great deal of money: Marx had purchased the land for a little less than one million dollars. And his plan almost worked, until he, too, perished from the Diab of Myla Island. The giant beast ate not only Marx but the rest of his crew of three, Mosley Louis, and all of the fixtures, furnishings, and materials that made up Marx’s 100-foot yacht. No one has seen Diab since.
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