got her fixed up, and they stood together.
“Stay close to us,” Jonathan said, “and if there’s shooting, hit the ground fast.”
CHAPTER 3
“LOOKS LIKE WE WERE LUCKY TO GET CHAIRS,” TYLER WHISPERED. Weary, confused guests flooded the upper pool deck, and the chairs were being gobbled up. During the day, there was always ample seating for those who wanted to sun themselves on the pool deck—and there were pool boys to fetch more if they were needed. However, in the dozens of times that Tyler had visited the Crystal Sands, there’d never been a time when every guest was here at the pool. Typically, they were strewn throughout the resort, from the kayak launch point to the beach to the bar to the golf course. Chairs would soon become a scarce commodity.
And it was hot. Every night was warm at the Crystal Sands—that’s why people came here in the first place—but the steady breezes gave relief. As the bodies packed in, each of those ninety-eight-point-six-degree heat generators raised the temps and blocked the breezes. It became apparent to Tyler after only a few minutes that it had been too long since too many had had a shower.
“I wish they’d tell what they were going to do to us,” Annie said.
“We’ve already seen what they’ll do if we don’t cooperate,” Tyler replied.
“Will you two please shut up?” hissed the woman to their right. Aged somewhere between fifty and seventy, the lady was clearly a sun worshipper, with skin that made a football look pretty. She’d taken the time to put diamond studs into her ears before being herded out of her room. Or, maybe she just slept with them in. Was that even possible?
Tyler looked at the woman, said nothing.
“They’ve told us to stay quiet,” the lady pressed.
“So, why are you talking?” Annie asked. Tyler smiled and she seemed pleased with herself.
The captors all looked like soldiers who’d bought their gear from the same store. Black on black on black, from shoes all the way up through shirts and what Tyler presumed were bulletproof vests. They carried the same guns and they all had radios attached to their vests, just behind their right shoulders. The radios ran to square microphones that looked to be attached by Velcro to the front side of their right shoulders.
Tyler counted eleven of them, all men, but there could have been more. He might also have double counted, since they all looked alike. They didn’t say much, but when they did, it was in English. Since the accents sounded Russian, he ruled out your standard ISIS nut bags, but he wasn’t sure that made him feel any better.
Best he could tell from the little he’d overheard, they referred to each other not by name, but by phonetic alphabet letters. He’d heard references to a Bravo, an Echo, and a Golf. He recognized the handles as elements of the military alphabet, so he assumed that there must be an Alpha, Charlie, and Foxtrot out there someplace. Plus more, he imagined.
Several of the other guests had dared to ask what was going to happen to them, but none of them got answers. One did get a punch in the face, though.
Over at the blue mosaic-tiled bar, two of the soldiers sat on high stools, goosenecking over a stack of wallets and purses and their contents. From what Tyler could tell, they were less interested in the valuables than they were in the credit cards and such. In fact, after they pulled the cards from the wallets, they cast the wallets themselves off to the side. They also seemed interested in passports.
It wasn’t until Tyler saw a familiar green-and-white accordion-folded striped stack of paper that he understood what they were up to. “They’re matching IDs to the guest roster,” he whispered.
“How do you know?” Annie asked, which startled him. He didn’t know he’d spoken aloud.
“The paper,” Tyler whispered. “My stepfather, Baker, won’t hesitate to spend ten grand on a new chandelier in a guest room, but the hundred bucks to replace the antique dot-matrix printer at the reception desk is a step too far. That’s the only place we use that paper.”
Tyler’s attention was drawn to an intense discussion between two of the guards, one of whom carried a megaphone that he hadn’t yet used. The other man carried a manila folder that was stuffed with papers. They disagreed over whether or not it was time to start something. The objection had to do with some people who were missing.
The captor on the left cocked his head to the side and said into his radio, “Hotel, this is Alpha. Is Foxtrot with you?” He waited maybe ten seconds and then repeated the question. “Their radios must not be working.”
“Or something happened to them,” the other one countered.
Alpha looked annoyed. “They were Sector Eight, is that correct?”
“Yes.” Tyler noted the absence of “sir” at the end. Not military.
Alpha sighed deeply. “Take a team. Golf and India. See what you can find. Leave me the list, and send Echo over to take notes.”
“You got it.” As the other man walked away, Tyler heard him say, “Delta, this is Bravo.” It seemed that Alpha was in charge and Bravo was his second. Tyler wondered if the alphabet was a rank system, with Zulu being on the bottom of the pile.
After fifteen seconds or so, a new captor arrived to take Bravo’s place next to Alpha. Smart money said this was Echo. This one had removed his skullcap, revealing yellow hair as a sharp contrast to all the black. Alpha handed the newcomer the clipboard, saving the megaphone for himself. He keyed the microphone and launched a squeal of electronic feedback. Tyler couldn’t tell if it was intentional, but it, for sure, got everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen, settle down and listen carefully. I know that you have many, many questions, but I am not in a position to answer any of them at this time. Those of you who survive your ordeal over the next forty-eight hours will be perfectly justified in contacting your travel agent and demanding a full refund.”
The alphabet men laughed, but they were the only ones.
Alpha continued, “Consider yourselves to be our captives. Anyone who tries to escape will be shot.” He paused for effect. “I assure those of you who have been separated from your children that they are being well taken care of.” If those words were supposed to be soothing, they had the opposite effect. Murmurs rumbled through the assembled crowd.
“Pay attention!” Alpha shouted. “These are unsettling times, and during unsettling times, people are most apt to make terrible mistakes. As some of you have seen all too closely, terrible mistakes bear terrible consequences. The gift of being shot with a high-powered weapon is to die quickly. The curse is to die slowly. So listen very carefully.”
In the silence of Alpha’s next pause, the sounds of snuffling could not be masked. Tyler imagined that such was the point. These people were all terrified. Tyler was scared, too, but not to the level of the parents. He got that.
“If you are a parent and you try to escape, your children will be killed first—in your presence—and then you may or may not follow them into death.”
“You’re animals.” The comment bloomed from the middle of the crowd, from an indeterminate source. The words ignited a rumble, and while Alpha seemed alerted, he did not seem to be angered.
