AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This is not a vacation farewell.
I push the uneasy feeling away as I guide the boat through the dark night waters, my thoughts right away shifting toward the person I am doing this for.
Callie.
I need her like I need the air to breathe.
Baby girl, just hold on a little longer.
3
CALLIE
So,we are here.
We are still the Outcasts, I think when I realize that we are brought to what looks like the secluded part of the resort and shoved into a bungalow.
The ride to the Westside was grim.
We took a boat, four other boats following, as an escort of what looked like ATVs roared on the southern dirt road along the coast in the distance, their headlights flickering among the trees.
The ride was silent. My heart beat heavily but not because of my fear of water. The memories of Kai prickled me with guilt.
The day after the Block Party. Bonfire. Scars. Tattoos.
All my fault.
I batted away tears, but they kept coming. And I kept glancing at Archer’s silhouette at the helm, wondering if I could push him into the water. Maybe if Archer drowned, everything would change for the better.
The Westside started looming in the distance as we veered around the island like Las Vegas when you approach it from I-15. The lights from the Ayana Resort, flickering across the hill, multiplied as we got closer. When we finally reached the docks, the resort area that stretched for several miles ahead and above up the hill shone with its majestic cheerfulness.
“Garden Bungalows,” Archer said to one of the guards as we got out of the boat and walked off without looking at us.
The sound of music trickled from the distant villas or bungalows—whatever they were, it was hard to see in the dark. Distant voices. This place was alive, unlike the desolate Eastside that’s more like a camping village. This looked like civilization. There was normal life here.
Before we knew it, Archer was gone like we were some random delivery, not even Amazon Prime.
And now, it’s suddenly very quiet.
Too quiet.
Too… comfortable.
Our shabby outfits are in stark contrast with the luxury decor of the bungalow as Katura and I slowly walk to the center of the room, studying the matte-black floors and walls and minimalistic furniture with stainless steel frames that glisten in the light of the arc lamp.
There are two beds with expensive white sheets and swans made out of towels. A little open kitchen with a marble kitchen island. The windows are floor-to-ceiling.
“Wow,” Katura whispers.
There is a phone on the side table.
A phone!
Katura notices it too, walks up and picks up the receiver, listening to the tone as she reads the directory.
“You can connect to the office, food delivery, lab, surveillance center…” she reads out loud.
I simply walk to the bed and sit on the edge.
