198

As the fishing boat grows closer to the coast, the motor cuts and the man peers at you on the beach. The man rises from his seat at the wheel; a long-barrelled pistol dangles in his hand. You reach for your weapon, and the tall figure revs the engine and turns the boat back toward the open river.

"What was that?" Heather asks. You shrug and shake your head. The lagoon is only a short stretch of beach away, so you round up the group and walk along the rock-covered path toward the helicopter. You straddle the coastline and march toward the lagoon in the distance. The forested countryside falls away to mountains ending abruptly at a rocky shore where white waters roll and splash against the surface. As you cross the coarse beach, you confirm it is a helicopter resting in the shadows, though the black tarp conceals all but a blade of its rotor.