For what feels like a long time, I stand there, wondering if I’m dead or alive. When I force my eyes open again, I find one of the century-old banyan trees that populate the island lying across the stairway.
Thank you. I shoot my gratitude heavenward. I’ve lost count of the miracles we’ve received. Certainly, KT making it back to shore, Laiyla regaining consciousness, and now all three of us cheating death. Again. But with the tree blocking our path, we’ve got another barrier to safety.
“Link arms,” KT yells. Once we do, she says, “This way.”
With KT in the lead, I bend my head to block the wind and rain and debris as we use our human chain to press on. I have no idea where we’re going, but KT exudes command and confidence, so we follow.
Then we climb a set of wooden stairs, cross a threshold, and slam a door behind us.
Inside.
We’ve made it inside—somewhere. All three of us slide to the floor, and my eyes close on another silent prayer. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
When I open my eyes again, I see we’re in one of the resort’s studio cottages at the edge of the property.
For several long moments, no one speaks, no one moves. We just catch our breath and absorb the shock of our near-death experience.
I don’t know how long it takes me to roll my head toward the other women, but I’m instantly alarmed at the sight of blood flowing down the side of Laiyla’s face. I roll to my knees and take her face in my hands, searching for the source.
“Oh, Laiyla.” She opens her eyes, but they’re dazed. “Look at me.”
“I am.”
KT mirrors my move, inspecting Laiyla, but KT doesn’t look much better. “Her pupils look okay. Laiyla, talk to me.”
“Jesus,” she says on a breath, her gaze floating toward KT. “I hope I don’t look as bad as you.”
An unexpected puff of laughter escapes me, and the terror eases.
Something outside hits the wall facing the property. We all jump and look that direction, which is when I realize the wall is made up of glass louvers. I may not have all my faculties, but I know that’s dangerous.
KT beats me to a solution. She stands and moves to the bed. “Laiyla, help me upend this mattress. Chloe, bring those chairs over here.”
It takes me forever to find my feet, and the side chairs in the room feel like they’re made of concrete. KT shoves the mattress off the bed, and Laiyla helps tilt it against the wall of glass.
“Brace this,” KT tells Laiyla, then moves the nightstands and dresser up against the mattress to hold it in place against the windows.
I get the chairs into position on the other side of the room, behind the safety of the mattress. “You two sit down so I can take a look at you.”
KT and Laiyla obey, dropping into the upholstered chairs, exhausted. I sit on the edge of the bed’s box spring, facing them, and assess their injuries. My time in third world countries taught me the value of basic first aid and lifesaving skills, but those aren’t going to do much for the discolored egg rising on Laiyla’s temple. I’m most immediately worried about her, but she’s able to follow my finger with her eyes, and her pupils are both equal in size.
“Other than the bump on your head and a few nicks and cuts,” I tell Laiyla, “you look like you’re in pretty good shape.” I turn my attention to KT and wince. “You, on the other hand, are a different story. We need to get you out of the wet suit so I can get a look at all the damage.”
We get KT to the box spring where she can lie down, and Laiyla and I dig into rips in the wet suit, tearing it away from KT’s body piece by piece. Underneath, she’s wearing a bikini, exposing a fit body with dozens of cuts, some that will need stitches. “That coral tried to devour you.”
“Could have been a hell of a lot worse. I’m still shocked I’m even alive. I never would have gone down if they’d correctly forecast this cyclone.”
“This is a cyclone?” Laiyla asks. “They said it was a tropical storm.”
A wind gust shoots something large and hard against the wall of glass, rattling the entire studio, and we all jump again. I suspect our startle reflexes will be stuck on high for quite a while.
“This is a cyclone,” KT says with confidence.
/> “I’ve been in a couple of hurricanes,” I tell them, agreeing with KT on the severity of the storm, “but not this bad. I bet this storm jackknifed. The weather changed really quick.”
KT repositions herself, resting her forearm across her eyes and hisses out a breath between her teeth. “I think I have a couple of breaks.”
I reassess her body, but nothing is obviously out of place. “Where?”