“Come on, come on, come on! We have to go! There’s another one of those planes heading here right now! The boat’s leaving in a minute!”
A door near the other end of the hall opened and a woman stuck her head out. “I thought we had at least five more minutes,” she said.
“Not anymore.”
“But my things.”
“Leave them!”
She looked back in her room as if she wasn’t sure she could do that.
He ran over to her and yanked her into the hall. “Go! Now!”
Whatever she saw on his face must have convinced her that her life was more important than her suntan lotion and bikini, because she turned and ran toward the stairs.
Robert followed her as far as the end of the hall and then yelled back toward the rooms, “If you think it’s better to stay, you’re wrong! But don’t wait until it’s too late to change your mind. We’re not coming back!”
He allowed himself a pause, in case any more of the doors opened, but none did. He only hoped that meant no one was left on this floor.
He repeated the run-and-knock technique on the next floor down, rousting three guests. As he started to leave the hall, he heard raised voices coming from behind a closed door near the middle of the corridor. He retraced his steps until he was standing outside it.
One voice was male, the other female, arguing in French. Robert was unable to understand what they were saying.
He pounded on the door. “Open up! The boat’s leaving!”
The voices fell silent for a moment, and then the man shouted back, “We are staying!”
The woman started yelling in French again, and the man yelled right back.
Robert recognized the man’s voice as belonging to a guest named Bertrand Tailler, which meant the woman was his girlfriend, Aubrey Deniel. The few times Robert had spoken with them, Bertrand had done all the talking, giving Robert the impression the woman was shy, didn’t speak English, or was not confident of her skills.
“If you stay, you will likely die,” Robert said. “At least this way, you have a chance to get out of here.”
“I think it is likely we die if we go!” Bertrand replied.
Robert heard movement, like someone running toward the door, then the woman screamed and Bertrand started yelling at her again.
“Please,” the woman yelled. “Please. I…I go!”
Bertrand shouted over her, probably trying to drown her out, but Robert had heard enough. Turning away from the room, he mule-kicked the door a few inches from the knob.
“Leave us alone!” Bertrand yelled. “We are staying! Leave us alone!”
Robert kicked again and heard the doorframe crack. As he cocked his foot back for another shot, the ferry’s horn filled the air.
His kick moved the door an inch. Two more hits and the door flew open.
“The boat leaves in one minute!” he yelled as he rushed inside.
Bertrand was near the windows at the other end of the room, his arms wrapped around Aubrey. She looked at Robert, her eyes pleading as she struggled to get out of her boyfriend’s grip.
“Let her go,” Robert said. “You can stay if that’s what you want, but if she wants to go, she goes.”
“It is better for her here! Now go! We are staying.”
The horn blasted again.
Even if he left at that second, Robert knew making it in time would be a close call, but he couldn’t leave the woman like this. In a sudden surge of frustration and anger that had been building for the last couple of days, he rushed forward and sent a punch flying over Aubrey’s shoulder directly into Bertrand’s face.
Stunned, with blood beginning to pour out of his nose, the man released his grip and staggered back.
As Aubrey pulled away, Robert turned and put a hand on her back, urging her toward the door. “Run!”
A few feet before she reached the hallway, she glanced back. The fear on her face became mixed with worry and her step faltered.
“Go! Go!” Robert told her.
She looked unsure.
“Now!”
She raced out the door.
Robert, a few steps behind her, stopped just inside the room, intending to give Bertrand one last chance. But as he turned, Bertrand was leaping through the air right at him. There was no question of Robert getting out of the way.
Bertrand smashed into him, sending him falling backward into the hallway with the Frenchman on top of him.
“You bastard!” Bertrand said, swinging his fist. “Everyone will die because of you!”
The blows landed solidly against the sides of Robert’s head, until he was able to twist to the side and shove Bertrand away. Like a punch-drunk boxer, Robert climbed awkwardly to his feet and shuffled down the hall toward the stairs.
Bertrand ran at Robert again. His pounding feet gave Robert enough warning and he was able to jerk to the side right before Bertrand would have hit him.
As the man flew past, he flung out an arm and grabbed a handful of Robert’s shirt. The yank was hard enough to twist Robert around and knock him off balance. Backward he fell again, his head smacking into the corner where tile met wall.
His whole world went black.
Estella had found more than a dozen people gathered in a meeting room just off the bar. It didn’t take much to convince them to get on the boat. By the time she finished running through her assigned floor, she had located five others and sent them running for the dock.
She contemplated heading upstairs to help Robert, but worried they might miss each other. She waited for him instead on the sand at the bottom of the stairs to the bar.
When the horn sounded, her already racing heart beat even faster.
“Hurry up,” she whispered, her gaze glued to the upper portion of the hotel.
With each passing second, she became more and more worried. Where was he? He should have been back by now.
The horn blared again.
“Robert!” she yelled.
She glanced back at the boat, and then at the resort, then ran up to the bar deck and over to the stairwell. But as she opened the door intending to head up, she heard someone racing down toward her.
Robert, she thought. Thank God.
She stayed where she was, holding the door open. But the runner wasn’t Robert.
It was a woman Estella had seen around but never talked to.
As the woman rushed through the open door, Estella grabbed her. “Where’s Robert?”
Tears were running down the woman’s cheeks and she had terror in her eyes. She said something in French that Estella didn’t understand.
“Robert,” Estella said. “You see?” She pointed at the woman and then at her eyes.
“Oui. Robert. Coming.”
Estella’s relief at hearing this was tempered by the woman’s sobs.
“Get to the boat,” Estella said, motioning toward the dock. “The boat.”
The woman seemed to have stopped listening. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her eyes shut as the tears continued to flow.
Estella realized the only way the woman would be able to get to the ferry on time was if Estella took her there. She looked toward the stairwell.
Robert was coming. The woman had said that much.
It would be all right.
Putting an arm around the woman’s back, Estella said, “Vamos.”
She quickly led the woman off the deck and across the beach to the dock.
Renee was standing on the gangway to the boat. “Where’s Robert?” she called.
“He is coming,” Estella said. “He should be here any moment.”
She escorted the woman on board, then asked one of the other passengers to help the woman find a seat. Estella returned to the gangway and started to exit the boat, but Renee grabbed her.