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“That was it for gasoline cans,” Ronin supplies. “And I am guessing our backup propane tank was used to start the explosion.”
“Yep,” Charlie rasps out. “Saw Brent… last minute. Scurrying out from the shed. Went to shoot, then smelled gas… Turned. Saw propane tank, lit rag as a fuse…”
“We’re going for the plane,” MacManus states. He stares at Elias as if daring his bodyguard to protest. “We can hole up, sit tight. Brent won’t attack because he can’t risk losing his only way off this atoll. And Keahi won’t risk injuring her sister.”
“You’re using your ward as a human shield?” I wish I sounded surprised, but I’m not.
“I’m making a tactical decision that will keep us all safe.”
I glance at Leilani, but her face has returned to its expressionless mask, like she’s here, but not here. I have no doubt that behind that façade her mind is whirring away on its own strategic plan, but I’ll be damned if I can figure her out.
Vaughn is over it. “You do what you gotta do,” he says simply. Then to the rest of us, “Let’s move.”
I follow Ronin back to Marilee, who’s propped against the building. This far from the light, I can’t see her face, but she doesn’t sound good, her breath reduced to a whistling wheeze. It’s possible the bullet splintered a rib, dislodged a fragment into her lungs. There are so many things that could be going wrong. She doesn’t need a first aid kit, she needs an emergency room and trained medical response.
But here we go instead.
I get on one side, Ronin the other. As gently as we can, we guide her to her feet. She hisses in a sharp breath, staggers between us. For a second, I think she’s going to collapse, and I’m not sure I can bear the dead weight, but then she finds her feet, slowly shuffling between us.
Ahead of us, Vaughn seems to be having better luck with Charlie. He has the man up, one arm supporting him, the other gripping the shotgun.
We stagger through the thick smoke, coughing and hacking as hot embers float around our heads and sear our lips.
Vaguely, I’m aware of Elias, MacManus, and Lea veering away from us toward the airstrip. A lot of ground to cover with a bloodthirsty, machete-armed killer on the loose.
Is now when Keahi will make her move?
A shadow materializes ahead of us. We jerk to a halt, standing perfectly still. Chef Kiki appears in the gloom, her face a mask of soot.
“I don’t know. Where? Where to go? What to do?”
“With us,” Vaughn orders crisply. She falls in gratefully as we continue to my cabin.
The approach is trickier. The front clearing between my cabin steps and the water is pocked with a half dozen holes, dens for Crabby and his friends. We have no choice but to turn on a flashlight to pick our way through them. I think I see Crabby hunkered down to the side, watching us. I will him to be a good guard crab. Protect us and I will shower him in flower petals. I swear it.
Finally, I yank open the screen door with an earsplitting screech. If Keahi or Brent wondered where we were, they should be well informed by now.
Once inside, I swiftly dump my pile of clothes from the second bed onto the floor. Ronin deposits Marilee on the first twin bed. Charlie gets the second. That leaves standing room only for me, Ronin, Vaughn, and Chef Kiki. Nobody complains.
I scramble around for my ziplock bag of supplies. I pull out four maxi pads, two tampons, and a pile of alcohol wipes, plus one instant cold pack, a sewing kit, and waterproof matches.
Vaughn studies the collection. “Bad camping trip indeed.”
“The tampons can also be used to start a fire. Pull apart the cotton into a pile of fluff, light the cord,” I babble. “If you have Vaseline to add to the mix, even better.”
“All right then.”
Vaughn and Ronin get busy with their patients. I stay back with Chef Kiki. The diminutive French chef is trembling all over. But she holds herself together, sharp eyes taking in the scene.
“Pneumothorax,” she declares, jerking her head toward Marilee, who is gasping for air. “That one. Something has punctured her lung. Oxygen is flowing out, creating too much pressure in her chest and collapsing the lung. See the bluish tint to her skin?”
Ronin stares at her. “Do you know what to do?”
“Needle aspiration. It is not hard, but I will need supplies, starting with a knife.”
Vaughn produces a pocket knife from his shorts. “Will that work?”
“No. But we will make do. Aspiration needle?”
