27
Dan knew what Mara said about people was right—they do have inherent worth. But people also have problems, big ones, and one of those problems is that they’ll often make decisions counter to self-interest just to be part of a winning team. Overnight, nearly a dozen denizens of Buildings B and C broke ranks, crossed no man’s land, and joined up with Building A. Some left notes. A few were BeachBod boss babes and disagreed with the treatment of their dear leader. Some were religious and felt Building A was more closely aligned with the church. Others just felt like Building A was better equipped to win the war, and they wanted to be on the right side of the pool deck when the smoke cleared.
They had a point.
Despite the hiccup, Dan was feeling better when the Fosters, Favas, and Ferrises met for breakfast in the lobby of Building C. Not great, because, you know, still trapped on an island during Armageddon. But he was definitely married to the love of his life now, no ambiguity there, and Mara’s pep talk—combined with the incredible make-up sex afterward—really helped. There was still the matter of what came next though, and on that, Dan was conflicted. The plane remained a factor, Alan brought it up as soon as they sat down. But the choice Mara made yesterday was paying off. There was applause when they entered the room. Plates were full, folks lined up for seconds. Stories and memories were being shared over coffee, laughter bounced from the rafters. The Hindi phrase from Mara’s speech was spray-painted above one of the exit doors.
Maybe Mara was right about that too. Maybe just doing good for the next few days was enough. Maybe—
A guard stumbled into the lobby, tripping over chairs, causing a ruckus. The entire room—a hundred people, at least—stopped to watch. He hollered for Lenny.
“Lenny! S-sir.” He was breathless, awkward, even less intimidating than some of Rico’s men.
Lenny stood, Gloria’s hand grasped his forearm. “What is it?”
“Outside. I was on the roof using the binoculars you gave me? They’re not very good, but—in front of Building A, they’re lining up those people who defected, man. They’re lining them up, and they’re on their knees. Looks like they’re…”
Alan buried his face in his hands.
“What?” Charles asked.
The guard leaned in and hissed. “It looks like—like they’re going to shoot them.”
“Oh, God,” Charles said. Mara stood, pulled Dan up with her. She locked eyes with Lenny.
“The roof,” they said.
Minutes later, the six of them stood above Building C, Dan wishing he had thought to stuff his quilted pockets with mini muffins. He was hungry. And cold, Jesus. It hadn’t snowed all night, but long enough to cover the darkened resort in about three inches of the stuff. Palm trees look funny in the snow. Multiple bonfires lined the bases of Buildings A and C, but the long stretch of pools, lazy rivers, and tiki bars in between lay undisturbed, coated in a layer of peaceful, unspoiled white, illuminated from beneath by path lighting.
It was kind of pretty.
They took turns with the binoculars. Just beyond the Sola Pool were twelve blurry people spaced six or so feet apart. They were on their knees in the snow, hands laced behind their heads, trembling.
“What is this?” Lenny asked no one in particular.
“Your bloodbath,” Alan said.
Dan thought about what Lilyanna said last night. About Lenny, about Building C. Was this all his fault?
It was still Dan’s turn with the binoculars when Rico marched from the base of Building A, theatrically warmed his hands next to one of the bonfires, and then waved. Rico wasn’t using binoculars but somehow saw Dan perfectly, like his eyes had a pinch-to-zoom feature. Dan turned away, unnerved by the sight of him. Rico always looked crazy, but now he looked like he had been dipped in crazy and marinated overnight. There was a spring in his step, a giddiness Dan didn’t associate with darkness, or cold, or executions. Rico looked like he was right at home, like he’d just returned from a long trip and he was ready to pop off his shoes, pop open a beer, pop some heads. This dude was evil personified, and he was dancing at the end of the world.
“We have to do something,” Mara said.
“Do somethin’?” Lenny asked. “They left us.”
“So we just let Rico shoot them? Lenny.”
Lenny shrugged, but Dan could feel his confliction, feel him struggling within himself. Lenny dug his foot in the snow. “Choose the side with assholes, and you’re gonna step in some shit.”
“Beautiful,” Dan said. “Thank you, Lenny.”
Mara tugged Dan’s arm. “Maybe we can talk to Rico.”
Dan opened his mouth to speak, unsure himself what would come out, but he was interrupted. Charles gasped and shoved the binoculars in Alan’s face.
“Oh, y’all, something’s coming this way!” Charles said, clutching the sides of his head. “It is!”
Alan stepped closer to the edge of the roof, leaned into the dark. He was tracking something. “A golf cart,” he said, confused. “Heading straight toward us. Who’s that driving it?”
Lenny snatched the binoculars. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Gloria, radio down. Golf cart kamikaze! Golf cart kamikaze!”
“Oh, God!” Gloria said, and she clutched the radio on her waist and shrieked into it: “Come in, downstairs! Come in!”
A voice sputtered from the other end. “Go ahead.”
“We got a golf cart approaching at rapid speed! Wouldn’t you say so, Len? It’s coming from—what direction we facing? Without the sun, I don’t ever know. You know, I nevah knew even with the sun!”
“South,” Alan said.
“Coming from the south!” Gloria screamed. “It’s coming from the south, it’s approaching the Maize Pool and on a collision course for Building C!”
“We see it,” the voice said.
Dan saw it too, growing larger every second. It was definitely a golf cart, and whoever was driving was booking it. Well, as much as a golf cart can book it, anyway. Maybe fifteen miles per hour.
“Shoot it!” Lenny screamed into the radio. “This is Lenny! Your orders are to open fire! Put down that golf cart!”
There were pops of gunfire from all corners of Building C, unsteady shots, unfocused. This wasn’t the well-trained tactical assault of a competent force. It sounded more like someone skipping on bubble wrap. Pockets of snow around the approaching golf cart erupted and sizzled. But nothing could stop it. The golf cart was inevitable.
“It’s gonna crash!” Lenny screamed. “HIT THE DECK!”
He seized Gloria and dove into the roof. Dan, caught up in the moment, held Mara tightly to his chest, like that would do anything, and Charles screamed, but Alan barely flinched. The golf cart puttered out of view below and crashed.
Kind of anticlimactic, really. It wasn’t even loud, just the sound of plastic scraping against concrete, a kid dragging his toys home after dark.
Lenny stood, brushed himself off like it was nothing, like he knew that would happen. He radioed down, having shaken the panic from his voice. “Come in, this is Lenny. Please report. Who was driving the golf cart? They alive?”
“They are very much not alive, sir.”
“We hit them?”
“Uh—” The radio cut out.
“Come again. Did we hit them?”
“No. Uh, no. It looks like—yeah, we missed.”
Missed every time? They must’ve fired two dozen bullets.
The six of them shared baffled glances and then rushed downstairs to see for themselves. There was no elevator in Building C, so the stairs had to do. The wind nipped their cheeks and sliced through their makeshift winter clothing.
When they reached the ground floor, they saw it. The cart was overturned, the back wheels still spinning.
Charles screamed. The driver was…beheaded.
The driver was also a mannequin, the one from Tommy Bahama that Dan had folded into inappropriate positions last week. The poor guy was a mess. His right arm was cracked in two places, his Mojito Bay Palm Row IslandZone? Camp Shirt (available in sizes XS to XXXL) barely recognizable. No use checking for a pulse. DOA.
A brick was tied to the accelerator.
Lenny snorted. “What’s his game?”
“Sir!”
It was the same breathless guard who’d alerted Lenny at breakfast. He found a room service menu taped to the back of the cart. Written across the menu, in thick, black letters: CHANEL FIVE.
“Chanel Number Five?” Charles said. “The perfume? What sort of message is he sending?”
“He’s an idiot,” Dan said. He motioned for Lenny to pass him the radio. “He means channel five. The asshole wants to talk.”
Back on the roof with the others, Dan clicked on the radio, tuned it to channel five, and waited. He peered through the binoculars at the hostages shivering in the snow.
They were right to be scared. Dan’s stomach bubbled. He tried to shake away the feeling.
Mara gasped as the radio sputtered. Dan spotted Rico standing over an old woman. Real tough, aren’t you? Rifle to an old lady’s head. Fucking coward.
“Danny boy,” Rico said, as if greeting an old friend. “That you? Y’all sure wasted a lot of ammo on an empty golf cart.”
Dan looked to Mara. You can do this, she mouthed.
“Heya, Rico, yeah, it’s me. Listen, I’ve been thinking. I want to change my answer. I’m gonna go with…mixologist.”
A moment of silence, then: “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Still trying to guess what you wanted to be when you grew up. That’s clearly not it. Okay. Final answer: misunderstood neighborhood recluse with a heart of gold.”
“You talk a lot, Foster.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“I’m going to kill this lady now.”
That shut Dan up, at least for a minute. He turned to his crew. His crew . A couple of over-the-hill deli owners, a drunk pilot, a nurse and—what did Charles even do?
“What do I do?” Dan asked.
Lenny said, “Uh—”
Alan said, “Ask him what he wants.”
Lenny said, “Yeah, right. Ask him what he wants.”
But Dan already knew what he wanted. He pivoted, tried to stall.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Dan said. “It’s unnecessary, Rico, it’s—”
“Three seconds,” Rico said. The woman in front of Rico tried to stand, but he kicked her legs out from under her and laughed. She collapsed back into the snow.
“ Okay ,” Dan said. “Okay. What do you want?”
“You know what I want, faggot.”
“Oh, come on, Rico,” Dan said. “In this day and age? The f-word? You’re better than that.” He turned to the others and whispered, “I don’t actually think he’s better than that.”
Charles waved it off, like, No worries, I’ve heard worse.
“Turn over Lilyanna, I let them go,” Rico said. “You don’t…well—”
“Can you give us a moment?”
“What?”
“Just a moment, Rico. Thank you. Be right with you.”
Dan turned his back to him.
“So, he’s lying, right? He’ll kill them even if we turn her over.”
“What if he’s not?” Mara asked. “We can’t gamble with their lives.”
Lenny huffed. “We don’t negotiate with assholes.”
“Since when?” Charles asked. “Did you slide a Building C mutiny booklet under our doors that I missed? Because Lenny, darling, it feels like you’re making this up as you go.”
“ They defected,” Lenny said. “ They chose to join up with Building A after everything they’ve done. They signed up for this. We don’t owe them nothin’, far as I see it, and that’s all I’ll say about that.” He crossed his arms, having won the argument with himself.
“You’re a real man of the people, Lenny,” Dan said.
Gloria brushed her husband’s arm. “Len, are you sure? That’s Bobby and Angie Cavallari over there, the ones we met at the swim-up bar. From Philly.”
Lenny didn’t respond, the cement drying on his decision with each passing second.
Dan turned to Alan. “Want to jump in here?”
Alan shrugged. “It won’t matter.”
“It won’t matter,” Dan repeated.
“You can’t trust the word of a man like Rico. It means nothing. Listen, I counted seven guards earlier. That means, at most, he’s got three guards on the plane. We could head there now, we could—”
“Fuck’s sake,” Lenny said, and he snatched the radio and binoculars from Dan’s hands.
“Listen up, motherfucker. You piece of shit. You don’t scare me, pal. Think you’re a real big man because you took some old people hostage, that it? You’re nothing. Trash. Bet you ain’t such a big man without that rifle.”
“Lenny!” Dan dove for the radio, but Lenny shoved him away.
“And you ain’t getting Lilyanna. She’s ours, okay? Get that through your skull. You failed your job, asshole. ’Less you wanna come get her yourself, come on down here yourself, Rico , because we got something real nice for your ass. Quit the bullshit. You ain’t scaring anyone today, hombre.”
Lenny wheezed when he finished, glanced around for validation. Mara’s chin quivered. Dan didn’t breathe.
Rico snorted into the radio. “That it?”
“That’s it,” Lenny said.
They saw the flash before they heard it. Mara screamed, Gloria screamed, Charles gasped and said, “No, no, Lord, no.” Dan held Mara, clutched her tightly to keep from hitting Lenny in the face, to keep from hurdling over the side of the building and rushing Rico himself.
Lenny approached the edge of the roof, his mouth agape, muttering, “I didn’t think—I didn’t think he would really—you gotta believe me, I didn’t think for one second—”
“Which part of your experience with Rico Flores made you think he wasn’t capable of that?” Alan asked. “That woman’s blood is on your hands, Lenny, you—”
Lenny let loose a primordial roar and rushed Alan, tackled him to the surface of the roof, his fists like missiles. Alan caught him with an elbow to the nose, and then Charles joined in, shrieking and clawing at Lenny like a cat in heat. Mara screamed, “Dan, do something,” and Dan jumped in, pulled at someone, pushed at someone else, yelled something like “You assholes, we’re adults, we’re adults.” Gloria screamed Len, “That’s enough,” and that distracted him long enough for Dan to yank him onto his back and off Alan. Dan lay on top of Lenny for a moment, rising and falling with the weight of his breath, like Sam Neill on that sick triceratops in Jurassic Park .
Rico laughed through the radio. And that was a dick move too, because he had to intentionally hold down the button for them to hear.
Alan climbed to his feet with Charles’s help and ran his forearm over his mouth. He spit. “You’re going to get us all killed, Lenny. We’re all going to die because of you.”
Dan shifted off Lenny, gave him space. Blood dripped from his nose, and Gloria came down to cradle his head. He let out a great big sigh, like he was exhaling everything that’d happened in the last week, all of his rage, all of his fire. He traced a sad L in the snow with his finger.
For Lenny or loser ?
“He executed an old lady, bro. Just shot her, no hesitation.” He sat up, and Gloria used a scarf to wipe his eyes. “Ah, shit. I didn’t think people like that really existed.”
“They’ve always existed,” Alan said. “There just aren’t shadows to hide in anymore.”
The radio buzzed.
“Every half hour,” Rico said, “until she’s back. Ticktock.”
Dan opened the door to find Lilyanna with her legs crossed on the edge of the bed. She applied lipstick, making faces in the vanity mirror.
“Who gave you lipstick?” he asked.
She smacked her lips together and shut a clamshell case in her lap. “Big day today, Mr. Foster. A girl wants to look her best.”