PARADISE PARADOX (#1 PARADISE ISLAND duology)

-- eleven --

The bushes once clustered before the forest, shielding it, enclosing it in darkness, had been singed by the deadly wall of sparkles, and destroyed by the massive logs. The pinkish glow was the only thing preventing Kera and the others from waltzing out and being free at last—but they all knew one step into said glow would rip them to shreds, like Misty. Her mangled body—both halves of it—remained slumped on either side of the barrier as proof that they hadn't imagined it.

In a rolled-up, long sleeved shirt that clung to his tall torso, Mr. Reynolds arrived as close to the sparkly, slicing barrier as possible without touching it. He peered at it from one end to the other and tutted.

"I would say I warned you, but that seems a bit unnecessary at this point." His voice was tremulous, yet it held a certain disdain, a disappointment in it that didn't match up with his regular behavior.

If Kera hadn't known better, she'd say he seemed to pity those stuck on the other side, to care for the two who'd paid a hefty price—their life—to realize they couldn't get out.

Other students had arrived after Mr. Reynolds, and were gathering around him in a semicircle. Some turned away, too grossed out to witness the goriness of Misty's corpse; a few crouched low to inspect the upper half of her body; and a few more were staring at the logs, astounded, appalled, and likely trying to figure out if someone had been squashed beneath them.

Had they seen those logs shimmy out of nowhere and impale and smash that poor guy? Kera couldn't erase the image from her head, and another bout of nausea bubbled up somewhere between her gut and her throat.

Ms. Moreno, with one hand clamped over her mouth, stood nearest Mr. Reynolds. Her expression, contrary to his, felt more genuine; her dark eyes bulged in shock, and her shoulders were hunched, her extremities stiffened.

Kera's group had squirmed closer to Mr. Reynolds upon his arrival—to better hear him, or to have a better chance to somehow drag him through the blockade of sparkles; she wasn't sure.

Miles' fists kept bunching at his sides, and Vick was pacing, his gaze wandering from one end of the woods to the other. Jessa had recovered from her faint spell but she was deathly pale and shaky; one of her friends was helping her stand straight. Kera had crawled at first, not trusting her legs to keep her up; but Miles had helped her, and now they were there. A dozen feet from Mr. Reynolds, who held the key to their escape. He'd come to gloat, to berate them—and then he'd deactivate this magical bullshit, right?

"Trespassing automatically breaks the three Golden rules, as you were informed. I also told you that such an action adds additional punishments to your tab." Mr. Reynolds cleared his throat, and any students who'd been focused on anything else drew their gazes to him. "You went and did all of it, didn't you? Well, there are consequences. Actions always have consequences."

Kera half expected him to pull out his police baton and whip them all senseless with it. Or for him to tell them they'd be locked up in a dank jail once back home, and in the meantime they'd all be sealed inside their cabins.

Mr. Reynolds rubbed at his short-cut curls and glanced at the undergraduates before him—bruised and bloodied for some, worn out, clothes ripped, charcoal smears under their eyes.

Not a drop of sympathy came from his tone as he said, "Your punishment is to remain on that side of the island. Forever."

Kera gasped and smacked a hand to her mouth; Miles and Jessa—the boldest of the group—cackled.

"The fuck we are," said Miles, taking a dangerous step closer to the sparkles.

Mr. Reynolds tensed, his arm muscles twitching; but he didn't reprimand Miles. He instead stared at something behind the group, prompting Kera to flip around and search for the source of his interest.