Anything not nailed down sails through the air—branches, stones, umbrellas, tables, chairs. The wind peels shingles off roofs and siding off buildings, shooting the now-lethal weapons through the air. I try to get my feet under me, but my legs are weak, my brain is fuzzy. My vision fluctuates, and my head throbs.
The other women pause, and we crouch, heads ducked, restoring some strength. When we move again, I’m stronger, less dependent.
A thundering crack rips through the air behind, and to our left. I turn to look, but my head swims, and all I hear is Chloe’s screech before all my senses are assaulted with what sounds and feels like lightning striking at my feet. Energy crackles through my body, the ground rolls underneath me, debris pummels my head and body. The only grounding force I have is the other women, our arms still intertwined and locked, creating a human chain.
When I manage to pry my eyes open against the wind, I see one of the century-old banyan trees on the property lying at an angle across the stairway only feet in front of us. We’ve cheated death again.
“This way.” KT drags us in another direction.
My mind is so cloudy and confused, I would follow a mermaid into the storm-raging sea. KT serpentines around debris until we stumble across a threshold into some kind of shelter, slam the door and collapse to the floor.
Inside. We’ve made it inside one of the resort’s studio cottages.
For several long moments, no one speaks, no one moves. I can only assume the other two are doing what I’m doing, catching my breath and absorbing the terrorizing situation.
We just teetered on the razor’s edge of death. Death. As in killed. Gone for eternity. No more drinks with friends, no more shopping on Rodeo Drive, no more searching for Mr. Right. Not even another eye roll for my parents.
This still doesn’t feel real. Even soaked and battered by the storm, I feel oddly numb. Wooden, even.
Chloe roles to her knees and takes my face in both hands. She has nicks and scrapes everywhere, blood trickling down her forehead and cheeks.
“Oh, Laiyla.” Her soft words make me refocus on the way she’s looking at me, as if in pain. She lifts my head until we’re at eye level. “Look at me.”
“I am.” But not really. Black spots float in from of my eyes, blocking parts of Chloe’s face.
“Laiyla.” KT’s face swims into view. I recoil at the sight of blood covering the right side of her head and deep scratches on her face. “Her pupils look okay. Laiyla, say something. Talk to me.”
“Jesus, I hope I don’t look as bad as you,” rolls out of my mouth.
Both women sag on dual exhales and short-lived laughter.
KT moves to the wall of louvered glass windows and shuts them, blocking out the rain and wind. “Laiyla, help me upend this mattress. Chloe, bring those chairs over here.”
KT is already shoving the mattress off the bed, and I grab one side to help tilt it against the wall of glass.
“Brace this,” she tells me, then moves the nightstands, desk, and dresser up against the mattress to hold it in place against the windows.
“Okay,” Chloe says from behind us. “You two sit down so I can take a look at you.”
KT and I sink into the two upholstered chairs, and Chloe sits on the edge of the box spring, facing us. She assesses my face and gently feels around my head, avoiding the egg I see swelling in my peripheral vision. She lifts her index finger and says, “Follow with your eyes. Good.”
I evidently pass whatever test she’s given, because she focuses on KT and winces. “You, on the other hand, are a pretty big mess. Let’s get you out of the wet suit.”
Outside, the wind sounds like a freight train. Rain hammers the windows. Gusts rock the small building.
KT lies back on one of the two twin box springs remaining on the bed frame, and Chloe and I leverage rips in the wet suit material to ply the suit from her body, piece by piece, until KT is down to her bikini. She is intensely fit. If she were a guy, I’d describe her as ripped. But she’s got some hefty gashes in those long, toned limbs that make me suck air between my teeth.
“It’s not that bad,” KT says, surveying the damages as Chloe gets to work cleaning and inspecting the wounds. KT props herself up with her hands behind her. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse. The coral down there is some of the most stunning I’ve ever seen, but I never would have gone down if they’d correctly forecast this cyclone.”
“They didn’t forecast a cyclone,” I say. “They said it was a tropical storm.”
As if my terminology insults Mother Nature, dark shapes ricochet off the glass, making us all jump.
“That,” KT says, her breath hissing out in a stream, “is a cyclone.”
I can’t quite figure this woman out. She leans a little more toward the masculine than the average woman. “Are you military or law enforcement or something?”
“No, why?”
“Because you’re hardcore. Badass. What you did out there was fucking intense. Anyone else would have drowned.”
Her gaze holds on mine. “You’re the reason I didn’t drown. If you hadn’t come down to the bottom of the steps, there was no way I could have made it through another pounding. I was an inch away from giving up.”
A spring of bubbles erupts in my chest, and unexpected tears sting my eyes. Maybe from her sincere appreciation, maybe from the aftermath of the near-death experience.
KT turns her gaze on Chloe. “And I wouldn’t have made it up the stairs without both of you.”
She reaches out and gives our hands a squeeze, then lies back, resting her arm across her forehead, then casually announces, “I think I have a couple breaks.”
“What?” Chloe asks, alarmed. “Where?”
She takes a deep breath and winces. “Rib, and maybe my left foot.” Then she grins, and her normally broody expression melts into a rare and stunning kind of beauty. “Sorry, Chloe, I’m going to opt out of your ‘deep breath’ clinics.”
“Ha-ha,” Chloe says with a good-natured smirk.
I laugh, hard and unexpectedly. The pressure immediately creates knifelike pain in my head. “Oh, shit. Ow. Ow, ow, ow.”
“The adrenaline is waning,” KT says. “That’s when all the pain kicks in. I’m going to look like an eggplant for weeks.” To me, she says, “You’re going to look pretty rough too.”
I think of my parents and the fuss they’ll make. Maybe I’ll extend my vacation so I can heal before they see me. I seriously can’t take one more you-stupid-girl look from either of them.
More shapes blow past the building—a lounge chair, an umbrella, a small tree, something. They bounce off the glass, making us all jump again.
After a moment of nothing but the storm filling our ears, KT lays her head back on a groan and stares at the ceiling. “I’d give my right arm for a juicy cheeseburger.”
“With double patties,” I add dreamily, “extra cheese, a basket of fries—”
“Animal style on both,” Chloe says, referencing the gooey combination of cheese, fried onions, and Thousand Island dressing used by the well-known American restaurant In-and-Out Burger. “And a milkshake. Thick, creamy chocolate.”
I gasp dramatically. “Chloe, you cheating little spirit junkie.”