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9

ANGELINE

They made the turn onto the narrow road up the mountain, Maverick driving too fast as usual. Enormous thunderheads piled black and menacing as thick fingers of pink and orange light reached through the clouds. It took Angeline’s breath away, the quiet of this place, its untouched beauty.

Up in the sky huge birds were circling the hotel, slow, graceful, gliding. Angeline thought of Petra again, the feeling she’d had when the old woman took her hands. As if Petra had grown from the earth like one of the ancient trees and was the voice of the island itself.

Please , she’d pleaded when the others couldn’t hear. Take these men and leave here. They don’t belong.

“What the fuck is this now?” Mav said as the Rover approached the hotel.

She didn’t like the edge in Mav’s voice. Lately as the pressure mounted at Extreme and Mav was getting his way less, making lots of compromises, his tantrums had amped up in volume and frequency. She felt her shoulders hike, checked the urge to soothe him.

There.

A line of men stood dressed in black and thick flak vests, with assault rifles cradled in their arms like babies, arms bulging with muscle, faces blank. In front of them another five men sat on mud-caked black-and-red ATVs, similarly clad and armed.

Petra stood at the apex of the grouping, looking severe, taller, and more powerful than she had during their last meetings where she had just seemed old and exhausted. Angeline drew in a breath.

The fierce old woman held a fighting stance, her expression grim.

“That bitch is not going to fuck this up for us,” said Mav, his voice tight. He clenched the wheel, face taut with anger.

Angeline tried to put a calming hand on his arm, but he moved away quickly as he brought the SUV to an abrupt stop, killed the engine, and climbed out, slamming the door. She followed, moving swiftly past him so that she was the first one to greet Petra.

The old woman stood firm, a patient smile etched on her face. The humming engines of the ATVs buzzed like a swarm of angry bees, menacing and low. To their right the trailer and the generator sat waiting for fueling and setup.

Angeline turned to see the other Rover approaching with Gustavo at the wheel and Wild Cody riding shotgun. Great. Perfect.

Adele and Malinka walked around the formation unhindered by the men and over to join Mav and Angeline, eyes trained on the armed gathering.

“What’s happening?” said Adele, brow furrowed with concern. “Who are these people?”

“It’s okay,” Angeline said. They’d yet to meet formally, but this didn’t seem like the moment for introductions. “We’ll handle it. Just some local opposition to our event.”

Adele was younger, prettier than she’d seemed in the pictures and video Angeline had seen. Hard to believe she was a mother of two teenagers: she was fit and fresh-faced, eyes bright, dark hair shining.

“Uh,” said Malinka. Angeline was not a fan. The girl was full of herself; she’d had a list of demands three pages long before she agreed to do this. But they needed her huge following, so they’d acquiesced. “ That’s a small army.”

Why are you here? Why are you doing this? Angeline wanted to ask each of them. Malinka at her young age had already accomplished so much. Adele was a mom with kids at home. What did they need with a game like this?

But, of course, there was only one answer ever: money. People, she learned, would do just about any asinine thing for it, especially if they didn’t have to actually earn it.

She turned away from the two women and focused her attention on Petra.

“Take your men and get out of here,” said Mav, getting in the old woman’s face. She stood her ground, though he towered over her. Two of the armed men stepped forward, and Mav took a step back, lifting his palms. “You have no right to do this.”

“Petra,” said Angeline putting herself between Maverick and Petra, keeping her voice calm, respectful. “I’m sure Anton told you that we’ve been granted our permit.”

“He did,” said the older woman. “Your permission has been granted. Legally you have a right to be here now, and there’s nothing we can do to help that.”

“Then, what is this shit?” Mav pressed behind Angeline, thrust his arm toward the obvious show of force Petra had mobilized.

Petra looked at Maverick with strained patience and barely concealed disgust, like he was the worst spoiled brat.

“A final warning,” she said directing her gaze to Angeline. “This land is—” she seemed to search for the right word “— unwell . It has been scarred, damaged by greed, by murder, untimely death, accidents. Nothing good can happen here again. That’s why this hotel sits rotting, never cleared, never rebuilt. It’s a tomb. It stands as a warning to stay away.”

The mean, white sun slipped suddenly behind clouds, the temperature dropping.

Petra’s words echoed another earlier warning. My daughter Chloe is not well. Please reject her application to this challenge. For her sake and for her family’s sake.

But Angeline pushed it aside, took a breath.

Focus.

“Please, Petra. I am going to have to ask you and your men to leave. I promise we’ll do no harm. Our money will help you in your conservation efforts.”

She knew that was important to the old woman, conserving the island, keeping it safe from encroachment. She spoke to that. “And we’ll be gone before you know we were here. I know how important this island is to you. We won’t hurt anything. It’s just a game. Just for fun.”

The high-pitched cries of the birds carried down. They were lower, their wingspans enormous.

Petra lifted a gentle hand to Angeline’s cheek, and Angeline found herself thinking again of her abuela.

“You don’t understand,” said Petra. She brought her hand back, clasped the other at her heart center. “I’m not worried about protecting this island or the land. It can take care of itself. It has and will, long after I’m gone. Just as the earth will be here and will heal itself after it has ejected the virus that mankind has proven itself to be.”

Angeline shook her head, folded her arms around her center. “Then, what do you want from us?”

The look of pity on the old woman’s face cut Angeline deep.

“I’m trying to keep you from hurting yourselves.”

It happened fast.

Maverick pushed past Angeline, rushing toward Petra, yelling, pointing his finger at her, aggressive. Angeline grabbed for him, his powerful arm filling her grasp. She couldn’t even make out what he was saying. He was roaring. Petra didn’t give an inch, staring him down.

But then two of the men were on him, moving with speed and intensity, bringing him hard to the ground while Maverick kept raging. She heard her own voice screaming in protest. Time pulled and slowed.

She tugged with all of her strength at one of the men, trying to get him off Mav, but he was like a slab of concrete, didn’t even acknowledge her efforts.

Gustavo moved in, yelling, too.

But he was blocked by two other men who were now pointing their guns.

Gustavo lifted his palms, stopping short, face ashen.

Her heart stuttered with terror. It was chaos. Anything could happen: she braced for the sound of gunfire. Then Adele moved in.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Adele said like she was on a playground somewhere, reprimanding unruly children. “Let’s take this down a notch, gentlemen.”

Angeline felt her tension build until she exploded.

“Stop,” yelled Angeline at no one, at everyone. “Stop this right now!”

Her voice, clarion and strong, seemed to cut the gray morning.

Everyone froze.

An eerie silence fell, leaves whispered in the wind that was picking up, blowing up dirt from the ground.

“Please,” she said, her voice softer, directed at Petra. “We truly don’t want any trouble. But we’re not leaving.”

Something passed between the two women. She saw Petra acquiesce without submitting, a kind of wise retreat. Understood between them: things would move forward. There was nothing either one of them could do, really. Except be around to clean up the mess. Men, boys , would have their way. It had always been so.

Petra said something in Portuguese that Angeline didn’t understand. But then the armed men who were pinning Maverick climbed off him. They were calm, unruffled as if they’d exerted no effort while Maverick thrashed and raged, scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. Both with close-cropped hair, identical thick mustaches, along with the other men who had come forward they moved back into their formation, still pointing their guns. Maverick came up behind Angeline.

“You are going to fucking regret that,” he said, his shaking voice betraying how scared he was.

“Regret,” said Petra, still with that patient smile. “You know the taste of regret already, don’t you? How it’s an acid in your throat.”

What was that supposed to mean? The way she looked at him, with such disdain, like she knew something about Maverick that Angeline did not.

“You don’t know shit about me,” he said weakly.

“Stop,” snapped Angeline.

“What?” said Mav, quieter like a chastened child. “She doesn’t.”

Petra kept Maverick locked in her gaze. “You go back again and again, try to rewrite the truth. But the past won’t be rewritten, no matter how hard we wish it.”

Maverick swallowed hard, looked away.

Then she shifted her attention to Angeline. “This is your last moment to make the right choice. You can’t save them. But maybe you can still save yourself.”

A breath, a beat where anything could happen.

A breath, a beat where Angeline could go climb in the Range Rover and drive away, back home, back to the life she had thought she was going to have.

But no. She stood her ground beside Maverick. Why? She didn’t even know. Maybe it was love. Maybe not.

Finally, a sad nod from the old woman, and then another quiet command. The ATVs roared to life, and moving with agility and grace, Petra climbed on behind one of the bulky men.

Their exit was loud, with some of the men making big circles, whooping loudly around them, then heading off down the road, the roar fading in the night. The other men followed on foot, slowly, footsteps rhythmic, a metronome of warning.

And then they were alone.

Adele, Malinka, Wild Cody, Tavo, Angeline, and Mav stood in a loose circle, stunned, staring at each other. They’d all stowed their phones. Adele looked the most worried. Malinka seemed like a child, confused, not smart enough to be scared. Wild Cody, who was younger, taller, more ruggedly good-looking than Angeline had imagined him, had a seen-it-all-been-there-twice-and-got-the-T-shirt set to his lined and ruddy face. He wore that stupid wide-brimmed leather adventure hat that Hector had been on about.

“Okay,” said Mav, dusting himself off and flashing a wobbly smile to Angeline, who felt so dizzy she wondered if she might pass out. White stars danced in the periphery of her vision.

Maverick cast his eyes around to the silent group, dropped a strong hand on Angeline’s shoulder. His palm was hot, slightly shaking. But when she looked up at him, he had pasted on that grin that hid everything from everyone but her. He was Extreme Maverick, up for what was next, no matter what kind of wipeout had preceded the moment. She loved and hated that about him, in equal measure.

“So,” he said, “are we ready to go live?”