Dying on the beach was a problem. The same birds he’d pretended to be worried about stealing the omelet could pluck away at him, and carry some of his diseased flesh back to the resort.
And swimming out to sea? He didn’t know if he was strong enough to get to a point where the currents wouldn’t pull him back to the island.
Someone else might not have cared, but he was the manager. The safety of the guests was his responsibility, even if it meant protecting them from him.
So how the hell was he going to do that?
As he tried to come up with a solution, his stomach clenched again.
27
The knock on the door was loud and unwanted.
Martina pulled the spare pillow over her head, and turned so that her back was to the noise.
Another knock. “Hey, Martina. Wake up.”
“Who’s that?” Riley asked sleepily from the other bed.
Martina glanced at the clock and groaned. A few minutes after eight. Only five hours since she’d fallen asleep. She flopped onto her back and yelled, “Just a minute!”
The evening before, she and her former teammates had decided that staying together made a lot more sense than going their separate ways every night. So, after Martina picked up Riley, they had all gone over to the Carriage Inn and taken rooms.
They’d ended up talking into the wee hours of the night, which was why she hadn’t planned on getting out of bed until noon.
She sighed as she stood, and shuffled over to the door. Sunlight poured in the moment she cracked it open. She blinked several times and finally settled on a squint so she could see who thought waking her was a good idea.
It was Noreen. She was dressed and looked anxious.
“What’s going on?” Martina asked.
“I heard a car.”
“What?” Martina said, not quite understanding the significance.
“I heard a car. Sounded like it was racing. You know, really loud. It was—” She pointed to the south. “That way.”
“So what?”
“Martina! A car! Not one of ours. I’m the only one up.”
Martina looked out at the parking lot. All her friends’ cars were still there. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“When did you hear it?”
“Five minutes ago. Tires squealing and everything.”
“Hold on.”
Alert now, Martina closed the door.
“What’s going on?” Riley asked.
Martina went over to her clothes and pulled on her jeans. “Noreen thinks she heard a car.”
“Seriously?”
“We’re going to check it out.”
“Can I come?”
“How you feeling?”
Riley considered the question. “Still a little stuffy, but my throat’s better, and I don’t feel as tired.”
“All right. Hurry up.”
By the time Martina finished dressing and using the bathroom, Riley was ready to go.
They decided to take Noreen’s car. Though the morning was cool, they kept their windows down so they could listen for the other vehicle.
“It had to have been somewhere in this area,” Noreen said as they passed the police station. “I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Riley said from the backseat.
“Me, either,” Martina chimed in.
Noreen looked both frustrated and disappointed. “I know it was a car.”
“I believe you,” Martina said. “It’s just not here now.”
As they continued down China Lake Boulevard, they scanned the parking lots and side streets, looking for any signs of movement, but there was none.
They passed Ridgecrest Boulevard, Carl’s Jr., and finally Walmart, where the road took a gentle curve to the west along the southern edge of town.
Noreen pulled her car to the side of the road. “It must be gone,” she said, defeated.
“It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll hear it again,” Martina said, though she was beginning to wonder if her friend had dreamt the noise.
Noreen pulled a U-turn and headed back into town.
As they were nearing Ridgecrest Boulevard again, Martina said, “Let’s make a stop at CVS. Pick up some drinks and snacks. I’m buying.”
Though no one laughed, Noreen did crack a smile.
“Maybe they’ll have a container of Pringles. Barbecue favor,” Riley said. “I love — watch out!”
Riley screamed the last part as a shiny, black Ford Mustang roared into the intersection directly in front of them. Noreen slammed on the brakes while Martina instinctively braced herself against the dash.
They all watched as the other car raced across their path, barely getting out of the way before they skidded behind it. The driver of the other vehicle, his face turned toward them, looked as surprised to see them as they were to see him.
The moment they were out of each other’s way, the Mustang began to swerve. The driver tried to compensate by cutting sharply to the left. He overcompensated and his tires lost their hold on the road. The car flipped up then over and over and over, coming to rest back on its wheels partially in the entrance to the Denny’s parking lot.
“Oh, my God!” Riley said.
Martina threw her door open and raced down the asphalt toward the other car.
The roof was crushed halfway down, the safety glass of the windshield an ocean of cracks. The rest of the car was dented and twisted.
She reached the driver’s door and looked in. The airbags had deployed and now lay deflated over the steering wheel and across the door. The driver was slumped to the right.
She jerked on the handle, but the door wouldn’t open.
“Hey! Hey, are you all right?” she yelled.
The guy didn’t move.
As she circled around to the other side, she saw Riley and Noreen running over. The passenger door was also jammed.
“The windshield,” Riley said, pointing.
Martina looked at the front window. The upper corner nearest her was out of the frame. She climbed up onto the hood and kicked down on the glass. It moved. After several more stomps, there was enough of a gap to allow her to pass inside.
The driver still hadn’t moved.
“Hey,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
No response.
She hesitated, unsure what to do. If he’d broken his back, she knew she shouldn’t move him. Then again, if he had broken his back, would he have to stay in the car forever?
She said a silent prayer, hoping she wouldn’t hurt him, and then pushed him into sitting position. When the Mustang had driven by them, Martina had only had time to register the driver’s surprise, but not get a good look at him. She’d assumed he was an adult, but the guy she was looking at couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen.
She tried to check his pulse, but he tensed and jerked his hand away as he groaned.
At least he was alive, but there was something definitely wrong with his wrist.
She grabbed his chin and wiggled it back and forth. “Wake up. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Another groan, then a wince as his eyes parted.
“Good,” she said. “You’re with me, right?”
She wasn’t sure if he was moaning or saying yes, so she decided to assume it was the latter.
“What’s your name?”
“Cra…”
She waited.
“Craig,” he whispered.
“Okay, Craig. Can you move your legs?”
Another wince. “I don’t know.”
“Give it a try.”
She watched as each of his thighs moved up and down.
“Excellent. I’m going to undo your seatbelt. Then you and I are going to crawl through the window.”
He looked dubious.
“It’s the only way out,” she told him. “Are you ready?”