The driver slowed and Willa jumped off, thanking her. The shuttle pulled away. Willa waited for it to make the next curve, disappearing from view, and then took off at a run back toward where she’d left Charlene.
“They went up that way,” Charlene said, pointing up the runway, “and disappeared to the left.”
“That’s out of bounds for us,” Willa said, knowing the layout of the island. “Not for them because they’re Cast Members.”
“I can play a dimwit real well,” said Charlene.
“Lost and without a clue?” Willa said.
“Leave it to me.”
They hurried up the runway, following a sand path cut into the mangrove and prickly shrubbery. The surface of the sand was pockmarked with tiny dots, the result of an afternoon rain shower the day before. Interrupting this pattern were two sets of shoe prints.
“Easy-squeezy,” said Willa, pointing them out to Charlene.
Thirty yards later the trail divided, but someone had been on a morning run and the surface was disturbed, making it more difficult to determine the direction of the girls they were following.
“I think it’s that way,” Willa said, pointing to the right.
“Terrific! I was going to say to the left.”
They studied the impressions more carefully and agreed to try the path to the right. Twenty yards later, another fork; and still another after that. They were deep into the island wilderness now, the vegetation too high to see over, the terrain too flat to offer landmarks.
“Stay clear of those trees,” Willa said, pointing one out. “Poisonwood. It’ll burn something fierce.”
“Maybe we should turn back,” Charlene said. “Two lefts and a right, right?”
“Three lefts and a right,” Willa said, “wasn’t it?”
“I thought it was two.”
“Oh, brother. We should have left markers or something.”
They looked behind at the path, hoping to make out their own tracks. It wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Charlene said.
“I think we should whisper,” Willa whispered. “I hear something.”
They were quiet then, and, sure enough, the sound of voices carried through the jungle. But not from the direction where the path led. Instead, the voices came from their left, from inside the thicket of plants.
Charlene waved Willa ahead to a patch of sand free of the main path that showed the same distinctive tracks they’d been following. She pointed into a dark spot where the sunshine did not penetrate. They made some faces at each other; their silent sign language said, Do we dare? What do you think? I don’t know. Let’s go for it. Okay.
They crept through twisted, dark branches where the ground grew spongy and the smells were of decay and salt and marsh. After several minutes, Charlene turned back to look at Willa. The voices were clear now. They picked up the conversation in the middle.
“…bound to attract attention.” A boy’s voice, possibly a man’s.
“No kidding.” One of the girls.
“My manager, for instance.”
“How? How will he get here?”
“Golf cart.”
“So maybe someone forgets to plug it in tonight.” A different girl’s voice. “Maybe it has no charge. Maybe it’s dead.”
“He can use any Pargo he chooses, and a bunch of them have gas motors.”
“So maybe a fallen palm tree is blocking the way. Maybe he has to backtrack and it takes time.”
“I suppose that could be arranged,” the boy said. Definitely not a man now that they listened more closely.
“It shouldn’t take long to off-load,” said the other.
“Like how long?”
“It’s just a box. A heavy box. That’s why you need to supply the Pargo. The pilot is going to claim engine trouble. Forced emergency landing. The box is being taken off to lighten the load. It all fits.”
“Yeah, I got it. Don’t sweat it.”
“Do we look like we’re sweating?” one of the girls asked caustically. “If we’re sweating, it’s only because it’s so incredibly hot on this island.”
“It’s nicer on the beach,” the boy said.
“Shut up, would you? Do we look like we’re on the beach? I mean, seriously? It’s got to be a hundred degrees out here. It’s the jungle!”
“There are bugs,” the other girl said.
“Look, shut up. All we care about is that you do your job and get the box aboard the ship.”
“Tonight. Forward gang.”
“Correct,” said one of the girls.
“Whatever you have to do to make that happen, we don’t care. Just so long as it happens.”