We creep closer along the tree line, hearts hammering. Zach gestures for us to stay low. The strangers on the beach bark orders, searching as if they know we're here.Suddenly, one calls out a name we all recognize: "Vasquez!" My blood chills. They're connected to him, or at least aware of his search. Elena's nails bite into my arm.Before we can decide whether to confront or hide, one of the men spots footprints near our makeshift camp. He whistles sharply, pointing inland. In an instant, we know: they're coming.