PARADISE PARADOX (#1 PARADISE ISLAND duology)

-- six --

The air outside hit Kera square in the face—heavy, humid, and hot. It had been freezing in Providence when they'd left, so this was like arriving in a new world, where the very notion of cold was nonexistent. A brittle, salty breeze blew through her tresses and she sniffed in its ocean scent, letting it fill her lungs. Her insides loaded with a sense of relief and her once tense muscles relaxed.

She'd only been to the beach a couple of times. A few east-coast spots that weren't much to see, and a trip her parents had won to the Florida Keys, before the pandemic. This island reminded her of the Keys. The same clear-blue, sparkling waters, the same swaying palm trees lining the white sand, the same aroma of the tropics, the sea. The overall sensation of a summer vacation, an escape from everyday life. Oh, this wasn't everyday life, for sure; but it sure as hell wasn't an escape.

The airport, as Mr. Reynolds had indicated as they disembarked, was a tiny thing—basically a shoddy shack near the beach, looking abandoned and decrepit. To her surprise, though, an elderly man was inside, manning the radio, half-dozed in his chair, and a rusted fan sprayed cool air onto his tanned cheeks. He didn't acknowledge anyone as Mr. Reynolds led the students past, strutting on towards the bigger, bulkier building straight ahead.

Kera had seen it from the stairs, coming down from the plane—a one-story, old brick structure with vines crawling up the sides, looming over window-sills, looping over the foundations. It sat a yard or two away from the beach, with a rocky pathway leading to its doors.

As the group approached, Kera saw the word Cafeteria hanging above the threshold in faded green letters.

In the distance, behind the cafeteria, were several dozen cabins, none of which were quite identical. Some were made of the same brick as the main building, some were a thick and log-like, and a few were weathered stone. All had sturdy, emerald green roofs, and seemed spacious enough to house two to three people; but Kera recalled they were meant for one person at a time.

I'll have one of those all to myself?

In front of the cafeteria was a wooden-floored patio where tables and chairs were set up for outdoor dining. A few steps downward led onto a boardwalk that lined the beach, bordered with lampposts of stringed lights, and garlands of sapphire and violet flowers hanging from a hip-height fence. This boardwalk started at the edge of the airport shack, and ended on the sand across the beach, before a cluster of large bushes. Behind those bushes, and surrounding the beachy hotel area like a giant wall, was the forest.

The forest—the one they weren't allowed to penetrate. Not that Kera craved to; its gloomy appearance didn't entice her, nor did she have any curiosity as to what it harbored in its depths. Its treetops reached heavenwards, soaring on for what seemed like miles. A shudder-inducing darkness emanated from within, as if thick leaves cloaked the woods from the sky, the blaring sunlight. The trees weren't just palm, Kera noticed, even from afar. There were figs and cedars, and she spotted a few pines, too, which seemed out-of-place considering the heat.

These trees clamped together, and she imagined breaching past them would be like entering another dimension.

Frightened at the prospect of what might live inside the woods, she spun on her heels to witness the ocean view, instead. It didn't settle her unease—there was nothing but ocean, ocean, ocean, with no end in sight. No land ahead. Nothing but a bright blue sky dipping into the water. Nothing on the horizon. No boats lurking out in the deep—and no port to keep boats, in any case—and no means to flee.

She and the other students were, well and truly, stuck. Their only way out was by plane; and said plane had departed, cruising down the runway lining the other side of the beach. Gone. Abandoning them to their fate.