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.”
“I’m sorry,” Dominic repeated. “But we’re not taking any guests right now. We’ll get you a refund or you can reschedule in the future.”
“I’m not rescheduling. I planned to be here now, so I’m coming.”
One of the resort staffers on Scuba Three pulled out the gun Dominic had given him from the safe that morning, and pointed it at the guy.
“Holy fuck.” The blond man jumped back, hiding behind an interior partition.
“I told you. The resort’s closed,” Dominic said. He pointed the megaphone toward the front of the Albino Mer. “Carlos, take the ferry out. And don’t come back tonight.”
Quickly, Scuba One moved in next to the swimming dock. When he was close enough, Robert jumped off, holding a gas can, and started dousing the timbers. When the crewman at the back of the ferry saw what he was doing, he shouted toward the pilothouse.
Someone up front must have seen what Robert was doing, too, because the Albino Mer’s engines suddenly revved up, and the boat pulled away.
Once Robert was done and back on Scuba One, the staffer who was with him pulled the boat back several feet. Robert threw a lit book of matches across the growing water gap. With a whoosh, the swimming platform turned into a blazing beacon in the middle of the bay.
The Albino Mer made a big circle around the burning structure as it cut through the water back toward the passage to the sea. All its new passengers were pressed against the cabin windows, staring at the burning wood that moments before had been their bridge to the ferry.
Without being told, Jalen guided the speedboat behind the ferry, and he and Dominic followed the Albino Mer all the way back to the open sea. When they reached the end of the passage, they stopped and watched the ferry until it passed out of sight.
“All right,” Dominic said. “Take us back home.”
It was Robert’s idea to post sentries. He argued that others might flee the mainland and try for the safety of Isabella Island. Dominic hoped he was wrong, but it was a good idea, so a schedule was drawn up from the names of those who remained. The first watchers were given walkie-talkies and positioned around the central hill so that all directions could be seen.
Those who weren’t on watch gathered in the terrace bar where the TVs continued to paint a darker and darker picture of the rest of the world. Then, in the middle of the afternoon, CNN carried a live speech from the president of the United States. He confirmed their worst fears, that the substance being pumped out of the shipping containers indeed appeared to be the deadly Sage Flu. He also put his entire country on a twenty-four-hour curfew. Many other nations quickly followed suit, including Costa Rica. For a good thirty minutes, no one in the bar said a word.
When the time for the arrival of the afternoon ferry approached, Dominic was sure it wouldn’t come. But he and Jalen went out to the passage in the speedboat again, this time with Robert and Evan — one of the resort’s guests — in the second speedboat.
Every few minutes they’d check in with the spotters to see if the Albino Mer had appeared on the horizon, but there continued to be no sign of the ship, so they returned to the resort.
Sleep that night was something that came only in short chunks of twenty or thirty minutes at most. Around four a.m. Dominic gave up and went down to the bar. He wasn’t surprised to see that nearly half the other residents were there.
The news on CNN that Christmas Eve morning brought more of the same. If any of them had been hoping for something that looked like it might turn the situation around, they were disappointed.
It was around ten thirty when the radio crackled.
“There’s a couple of white spots on the horizon,” the voice said.
Robert, who was sitting next to Dominic, picked up the walkie-talkie. “Who is this?”
“Norm Lee.”
They checked the handwritten duty sheet. Lee was positioned facing west toward Costa Rica.
Robert pushed the SEND button on his radio. “Which way are they headed?”
“Can’t tell yet,” Lee said.
A few minutes later he reported back.
“They’re getting bigger.”
Robert looked at Dominic, concerned.
“They could be headed out into the Gulf,” Dominic said. “Might miss us by miles.”
“Or they could be headed here. If they are, we need to be ready.”
“What if we can’t scare them off?”
“Did you guys hear me?” Lee asked. “They’re getting closer.”
Robert picked up the radio. “Heard you, Norm. Hold on, okay?” He looked at Dominic. “We have to keep them off the island. There’s no way we can know if they’ve been exposed or not.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” Dominic asked, feeling like Robert hadn’t answered his first question.
“We can’t let them on.”
Dominic stared at his friend, suddenly realizing that Robert had answered his question. “You mean kill them?”
Robert was quiet for a second. “Only if we have to.”
“I don’t know if I could do that. I don’t know if any of these people here can do that.”
“Dominic, stop thinking like you’re still running a resort. The resort’s gone. This place, this is our survival. Anything out there beyond the beach…” He pointed toward the ocean. “Is death. If we let anyone in, it’s the same as putting a gun to each of our heads.”
Intellectually, Dominic could grasp that, but in practice?
“Hopefully they’ll just pass by,” he said.
They didn’t.
Forty minutes later, it was clear the two boats were headed for Isabella Island.
With Robert taking charge, they set out in the two speedboats with four volunteers and the full complement of the resort’s weapons — three handguns, a shotgun, and all four scuba spearguns.
Robert was at the wheel of the first speedboat, with Dominic sitting nervously in the seat beside him. Between Dominic’s feet was the megaphone. He hoped that was all they were going to need.
They sped across the bay, through the passage, and into the open waters of the Gulf. The sea was rougher than it had been yesterday, perhaps matching the mood that had engulfed the planet. The speedboat jerked up and down as it plowed through the choppy swells.