“Lacrishia, what about the boat?” I ask. “Do we know any weird surprises about it? Like, is it easy to motor?” Outside, distant thunder regurgitates unpleasant memories: Briggs and his team, all seasoned men, struggling to pilot the boat through a dark storm. Are we going through all this trouble just to drown at sea? My dad taught me sailing, but I was ten and this motored patrol boat will be a totally different story.

“It’s a simple craft.” Lacrishia nods, dabbing the sweat under her eyes. “I’ve driven something slightly smaller, but Darcy is the real captain.”

“It’s a good thing we’ll have her with us,” I reply cheerfully. Relentless optimism is the only defense against this looming aura of doom. If I’m upbeat, it’ll be contagious to the others.

Fake it ’til you feel it, Major.

“The trick will be timing,” Molly adds. “We scouted the bay before coming here. About an hour ago, Miss Manners boarded the boat with some staff randos and took off.”

“Yeah, and Karaoke Bill lost his shit,” Jack adds, sharing a wicked smile with Alan and Vance. I’m unable to connect the dots about why Bill would care enough to make a scene about the boat making a supply run, but Molly clarifies:

“He thought his family was going to be on the boat. Remember that letter he got? Anyway, no one showed, and he just—”

“Lost. His. Shit,” Jack repeats, and the Beginners nod vigorously with fiendish delight. A collective cackle ricochets off the cavern walls with such fearsome power, it awakens my own starved animal. Good, the voice growls. Let Bill know what it feels like to have your family ditch you in the dirt.

“The boat ride from Nightlight to mainland Costa Rica is an hour, give or take,” Lacrishia says, clearly anxious over the villainous detours our conversation keeps taking. “So basically, in half an hour, Ramona is gonna dock—”

“Good riddance—” Alan mutters, but Lacrishia raises a silencing finger.

“She’s probably going to call Drew’s family and let them know Nightlight is going to take care of everything, blah, blah, blah. She definitely doesn’t want anyone coming to Nightlight to see for themselves. After that, the staff will turn the boat around and return here. That means in two hours, we need to have Darcy and be ready to rock.”

The jocular attitude in the sanctum vanishes. Pins and needles invade my bloodstream over the idea of two hours. In two hours, we’ll know if we’re heading home…or if we’re dead meat. At least Miss Manners is out of the picture—and Karaoke Bill is distracted with his own family drama.

“Well,” I announce, stepping into the crowd, “who’s ready to go home?”