Page 27 of Here for a Good Time

TEN

Despite my protests that the last thing I want is to be treated like an injured Bambi, the other three agree that I need the longest amount of uninterrupted rest, and so they give me the last watch shift.

After swapping with Leila, I sit in the same spot for a long time, hunched over on my knees, blinking incessantly to make myself stay awake.

I consider going for a short walk, but the whole point of this is that I’m watching over the group.

There’s also the small but aching fact that my ankle needs all the recuperation it can get.

A task. I need something that will keep my brain busy, but not my body.

You want a task? I’ll give you a task! my brain seems to taunt with a smirk. Various hypothetical scenes involving my parents begin to flash through my mind like one of those old View-Master toys.

Them getting a call with some random police officer telling them that their only child is dead. Them and Zwe’s parents opening the door to our apartment and my mom breaking down before she’s even crossed the threshold. Them having to plan their own daughter’s goddamn funeral.

I take a deep breath, willing my lungs to expand and take in more air.

Recognizing that I’m spiraling and catastrophizing, I scramble to redirect my active imagination toward something else.

Plot. I can plot out a new story. Zwe said it best: nothing distracts me like a good book.

I shake out my shoulders as I open a blank document.

An excruciating four hours later, and after going over my two pages of single-spaced 12-point font enough times to make sure I haven’t missed anything, I wake everyone up at our agreed time, although I’ve been wanting to wake them for a solid hour and a half by this point.

“It doesn’t make sense,” I say as Zwe crawls into a sitting position.

“What doesn’t make sense? Mornings? Sunrises?” He yawns and wipes the sleep from his eyes. “I know they’re a relatively new concept to you, but believe it or not, they’ve been around for a while. Some might even say since the dawn of time.”

“I knew I should’ve lured a family of bears to eat just you—” I scowl. “No, this.” I plop my laptop down on his lap.

He rubs his eyes, squints, blinks, and at last gestures at the device. “I’m going to need some more context here.”

“I plotted it out, and it doesn’t make sense.”

“You plotted what out?” Antonio asks. He takes a swig of water (river water, which he swears is drinkable although I still have my doubts), gargles, then spits into the pit.

Leila makes a gagging noise. “Ew! What is wrong with you?”

“What? We have to put it out anyway,” he says defensively. “You want to hang out with my morning breath all day long?”

“We wouldn’t have to if you kept your mouth shut—”

“Which we all know I’m not going to,” he says, beating her to it. “But what did you plot out, Ms. Poe? A new book? How many are you working on right now?”

“No, I plotted all of this.” I wave around, trying to encompass the whole island in one gesture. “I plotted what happened. What’s happening . I took everything we talked about yesterday into account, and it doesn’t make sense. There are too many holes. It’s not adding up.”

“I’m still lost,” Zwe says.

I talk as rapidly as I scroll, highlighting the key points.

“Why hasn’t anyone found us? It feels like no one’s even tried .

Yeah, it’s a big island, but there’s, what, eight of them?

At least? You don’t need eight people to guard a group of resort staff in one spot.

These people have guns and buggies. We should’ve heard something. ”

“We’re pretty deep in the forest,” Leila says, looking around as though to really emphasize her point. “People who aren’t familiar with the wilderness don’t typically stray from marked paths. Even if you have guns and buggies.”

“That’s the other big thing,” I say. I throw my arms open again. “ Who are these people? Are they familiar with this place? Why did a group of people take over a remote island resort? A villain needs a motive. What’s their motive? What do they want?”

“Didn’t we agree that it was money?” Zwe offers. “You know, like they did at the other resort.”

“That’s what I thought at first.” I refer back to my plot.

“Money” was the first thing I’d plugged in, too, but that led to a dead end.

“But what money? What, they’re going around and looting all the designer furniture in the rooms?

The organic spa products? Breaking into the cash registers at the bar and restaurant?

Which also doesn’t make sense because it’s a resort, and the majority of people are going to have the charges billed back to their room.

Rooms are paid by card. If they want the hotel to transfer their money, they’re going to need internet.

They shut down the Wi-Fi, and there’s no regular cell service here. ”

“Maybe they turned the Wi-Fi back on? While we were out?” Antonio offers.

“Maybe,” I say. “But why gather everyone then? Why didn’t they repeat what they did at the other resort and just quietly hold one person at gunpoint to transfer the money? Why go through the trouble of rounding up every individual person? I don’t think it’s the same group.”

“Well—” Leila starts.

But I need them to hear the whole thing first.

“My second thought was ‘What if they wanted to rob the guests at gunpoint?’ That makes sense. The people who can afford a place like this are people with money. But then that leads to the next plot hole.” I open a palm at myself, then at Zwe.

“ We’re the only guests here. So either they didn’t know about the resort’s booking glitch and assumed it would be packed with multimillionaires, but that also doesn’t add up because a job this big, surely they’d have planned every detail beforehand, or they did know about the glitch and that there were no guests currently here, but they still came anyway because the guests’ money isn’t what they’re after.

“Another thing—the only two ways onto this island are by water or air. We would’ve heard them if they came in a helicopter, but we didn’t, so it must’ve been a boat.

There are security cameras on the pier. There are security guards patrolling the grounds.

Unless they rowed in on a dingy little rowboat, someone should’ve seen them approaching.

How did they get in undetected? Too! Many! Holes!”

I’m out of breath by the time I finish, and the three of them stare at me like I’ve entered full Mad Scientist Mode.

Even Zwe, who has seen me turn into this version of myself when I’m neck-deep in plotting and replotting a book, looks concerned, as though he’s worried I’m suffering heatstroke or tripped and hit my head on a very large rock while they were all asleep.

“So what,” Leila asks slowly, “ are they after?”

“That’s my question!” I say. My fingers curl with a shot of adrenaline and she rears back slightly.

Upon realizing that I look like I’m about to strangle her, I give an apologetic grimace and place my hands down in my lap.

“It’s too many inconsistencies. You know what the three biggest motivations in a plot are?

” I’m on a roll now, but I’m buoyed by the fact that none of them have been able to tell me I’m wrong.

My delivery might be unhinged, but the content stands up.

“Money, power, and love. ‘Power’ makes no sense because it’s not like they want to take over running the place. So it’s either ‘money’—”

“Or love,” Zwe finishes. There’s a deep groove between his brows as he looks up, as he thinks, turns it over in his head. My favorite beta reader. Not a single plot hole that Zwe Aung Win has missed.

“Or love,” I echo.

“You figured all of this out on your laptop?” Antonio asks. For the first time since we met, he’s speechless.

“Like I said, I plotted.”

“This is all very impressive,” Leila starts.

“And I don’t want to be dismissive of what you’re saying in any way whatsoever.

But… I don’t really see what the point of all of this is.

Our priority should still be how we get off of this island.

And then we can pass on all of this information to the authorities.

They can get in touch with the staff at Second Heaven and see if there are any overlaps between the two cases. ”

“But don’t you think we’d have a better chance of escaping if we figured out why they’re here?

Then we’d know who they are and what they want, and that in turn would give us a better sense of how their minds work,” I counter, pushing past the feeling that I’m being dismissed.

“Because if these people aren’t the same ones who robbed the other resort, then—” I swallow, chancing a glance at Antonio.

“—we don’t know how dangerous they are, and what they’re capable of.

Shouldn’t our new priority be to free everybody else?

If this group isn’t after money, then that changes everything. ”

“I… don’t know,” Leila muses. The three of them have the same unconvinced look. “It feels like we’re wasting time with every second we’re not moving.”

“Yeah, Mr. Zwe said yesterday that it’s a good sign that they’re taking care of everyone,” Antonio points out. “As long as they’re doing that, then we should focus on getting help. Besides, what if we make them mad by going back and trying to free everybody?”

“But we don’t know what the stakes are,” I press. It’s basic character development. Who is your protagonist? What do they want? What’s standing in the way of them getting what they want? What’ll happen if they don’t get what they want?

“Stakes?” Leila asks.