Page 5 of Nightmare Island

Another massive crack of thunder drowns out my thoughts. The plane shakes so violently my teeth rattle. Enrique’s voice carries from the front, something about a storm appearing out of nowhere.

That earlier guilt that it might be my fault twists in my stomach.

The plane dips sharply, and my insides try to relocate somewhere around my ears. I gasp aloud while others cry out.

“Everyone, secure your safety belts!” Enrique’s voice cuts through the chaos.

I fumble with the buckle, finally getting it latched just as another violent tremor rocks the cabin. He’s talking to one of the girls at the front of the plane while I’m being jostled about, trying to calm my breathing.

All right, storm, you’ve had your fun. You can leave now. Look how calm I am.

My muscles strain to a breaking point as the lie threatens to strangle me.

Enrique moves down the aisle, all powerful grace and barely contained urgency. Under different circumstances, I might appreciate how the emergency lights catch the sharp angles of his face and how incredibly handsome he is. Right now, the grim set of his jaw just sends ice through my veins.

“You take pod A,” he tells the Omega in front of me, then turns those intense eyes my way. “You go to pod B. No time for detailed instructions; follow the automated guidance. The pods weren’t affected by the strike.”

Strike? Oh, double fuck.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out as he passes. “I… I don’t know what happened…”

He pauses, turning back. “What do you mean?”

I lower my head slightly, shame burning in my chest. “I have some issues. When I get stressed or scared, when my emotions go haywire, I… I influence the weather. I call storms. I’ve been thinking about my husband and…” I glance at the window where rain pounds, then back at him.

His face goes slack for a moment, processing. I brace for anger, for blame.

“Can you control it?” he asks in a low voice.

“N-no. I’ve been trying, but it’s not working.” It never works, in truth. My grip on the belt tightens until my fingers ache.

He straightens his posture, staring at me for a bit too long. “Then you’re going in pod A,” he says firmly. “We can’t risk another bolt to the jet. You need to be far from the others to give them a chance.” He leans over to the Omega in front of me, saying, “Change of plan, you’re in pod B now.”

The guilt hits me hard, but I can’t argue. He’s right. He waves for me to move now. Every eye is on me, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I want to apologize, but the words never come.

Minutes later, I’m strapped into a tiny pod. It’s barely big enough for my seat, with a wraparound window. Screens flash with instructions I have to read three times before my panic-scrambled brain can process them.

“It’s all automated. Follow the instructions and leave quickly,” Enrique adds, then shuts the door, leaving me alone with my fear and the storm I’m certain I created.

I hit the first black button, and everything hums to life, lights zipping across the dashboard. The second one, as per the instructions, is just as easy to push, and suddenly, I’m dropping, my stomach left somewhere in the jet above. For a heart-stopping moment, I’m in the pod, hovering in the air, out of the plane, then I’m moving.

The jet continues onward, smoke trailing from one side.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping the others make it to safety.

My pod’s navigation system has us going in the opposite direction, and fast. The flashing lights on the flight map on the screen reveal a landmass nearby, but right now, all I see is darkness and lightning outside. My hands grip the curved walls that feel like they’re closing in. Just when I think I can’t take any more, thunder booms, and a streak of light illuminates the world. Down below, I spot a beach fringed with palm trees and mountains rising behind it.

The pod instantly starts descending, and I scream, seeing my own death at this rate. Something’s wrong. Instead of the land, we’re heading for the beach. Impact into the water comes with a shock, my whole body rocking in the seat, shaking all over. Water crashes against the windows as the pod bobs.

“Fuck this. I don’t want to drown inside this thing.” Frantically, I search for the emergency release. A dim blue light reveals the panel, and I slam my hand on the hatch. The door hisses open.

Low waves crash around me as I tumble out of the escape pod. Aching all over from the rough landing, my legs sink into the cold water, which reaches my waist. I drag myself to the shore, my heart still racing, and collapse onto my back, gaspingfor air as the rain pelts into me. For a moment, I just lie there, letting the cool water lap at my legs.

Am I dead?

Did I crash-land in some weird heaven?

The deafening crack of thunder answers that question. Nope, definitely still alive. Lucky me.

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