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“All right if I take him and the boys back to camp?” Sofía asks. “I have my first aid kit there.”
“Just give me a second,” Emmy says, wanting to consult with Sam before Charles runs off.
“I’ll go back and get it,” Sofía says. Emmy gives her a thumbs-up, which she can’t see in the dark.
“Em, everything okay?” Sam’s voice is garbled across the radio channel.
Emmy hears Sofía’s feet thud as she runs into the night. She fills Sam in on the scant details, keeping the story brief and factual as she tries not to betray the fear collecting in her stomach. Accidents aren’t allowed on Santa Cruz. Dutifully, she recites this joke to every boatload of visitors that arrives on the island. She believes it too. Except this doesn’t seem like an accident. Smuggler’s Road, the trail along the bluffs above the shoreline, is far enough away from the edge that you couldn’t trip and fall. If someone landed on the rocks below, they leaped on purpose. And a fall is the only logical explanation for how they would have ended up that far from the beach. She shivers. Could someone have come to Limuw to die?
“I’m on my way,” Sam says.
As she waits for Sam, Emmy instructs everyone to return to their tents. She needs to determine who is still out on the island. Because accident or not, there are several people unaccounted for. Too many more chances of someone getting hurt in the unending night.
“I don’t know where Ray is.” Charles’s voice cracks.
“Will isn’t back.”
“Cassie either.”
“Or Trish.”
The parents rattle off the names of their wives and husbands scattered across the island. The frustration mounts in Emmy with each name uttered, those parents who went off without a plan, with only fear and a headlamp to guide them.
“Hopefully they had the good sense to return to camp. That’s why I need everyone to go back to their campsites, so we can get an accurate count of who’s still missing.”
In the distance, Emmy sees the lights from Sam’s UTV. The huddle of parents and campers remains tight around her. Sam hops out of the vehicle, and Emmy heads over to him. As they commune, so do the parents, devising their own plan. Although Emmy and Sam have never been in a situation like this before, with so many people unaccounted for across their land, their first responder training kicks in. Without debate, they agree that Emmy will head to the beach to inspect the body, if there even is a body, as Sam cross-checks the camper list to see who is still out looking for the boys, unaware that they’ve been found.
Emmy feels calmer with Sam around. She’s certain that when she walks the coast, she won’t encounter a body. The night and the ocean were merely playing tricks on Charles, who was scared and fearing a tragedy.
“Folks, please,” Sam says in his booming voice. “I know you’re concerned. The best thing you can do right now is head back to your tents and let us do our jobs.”
“What if the person on the beach is alive?” someone says. “I’m a doctor. Let me inspect them.”
“You’re a plastic surgeon,” another man says. “Let me go.”
“You’re a GI. What exactly are you going to do that I can’t?”
The two doctors begin comparing medical school degrees, residencies, and internships.
“Gentlemen,” Emmy intercepts. “I’m a medic. It’s part of my training as a law enforcement ranger.”
“A medic?” the GI scoffs. “No. I’m coming.”
“Me too,” the plastic surgeon insists again.
“I’ll go,” a voice emanates from behind them. “I have more emergency training than the two of you combined.”
They all shift their lights to land on Sofía, who’s holding a first aid kit. “That is if it’s all right with you, Ranger Emmy?”
Sofía’s face is resolute. If Emmy’s being honest, she could use the help. She’s kept up with her training, but she’s had little experience using it. Assuming there is a person on the beach.
“Let me clean up Charles quickly,” Sofía adds.
She guides him to a nearby picnic table and has him sit. Sofía is efficient. Proficient. When she’s finished, she shows Charles how to apply pressure to the wound. “You won’t need stitches. When I get back, I’ll bandage it up for you. Keep the pressure on.”
Charles wobbles a little as he stands. His son grabs his hand and escorts him toward camp with the other parents.
Sam uses his flashlight like a shepherd’s crook, compelling the rest of the parents toward the upper loop. “Let’s all stay together now.”
Sofía finds her son and gives him a kiss.
“Go with Lei and Charles,” she says to her son in curt Spanish. “Do not leave Lei’s tent until I’m back. You hear me?”
He nods. Knowing she can’t see him, he adds, “Sí, Mamí.”
“Say, Charles?” Emmy jogs over to Charles, who has made it about one hundred feet toward the upper loop. “About where did you notice the person along the rocks? Did you cross to the other side of the pier, or did you walk to the right, if you were facing the ocean?”
Charles thinks for a moment. “I went to the beach, then turned right.” He points in the direction of Little Scorp.
“Do you know how far you walked?”
“It was so dark. I-I-I’m not sure.” He stammers like he’s trying to keep from crying. One of the mothers at his side awkwardly places her hand on his back, then removes it, in an effort to console him.
“That’s okay,” Emmy says, even more certain there’s no body. She checks her watch. It’s nearing four. The tide will be lower than when Charles was out on the rocks an hour ago, so she’ll walk until the coastline disappears into the water, certain it will be farther than Charles had walked. She’d like to give it an hour, when the first glow of dawn will make it easier to see the rocks. If there really is a body, though, she needs to get to them as soon as possible. She has a good floodlight, a sharp headlamp. They will have to do.
By the time she arrives at her vehicle, the two doctors and Sofía are waiting in the UTV. Emmy turns on the engine and floors the gas. As the car barrels down the dirt road, the UTV’s modest headlights illuminate a path like a tunnel ahead of them. They pass the Visitor Center, formidable in the dark, to the beach, where the storm continues to build. Angry gusts of wind slap their faces through the open sides of the vehicle, but they are all focused on the thin strip of light ahead, the possibility of a body beyond.
