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Do not talk about what you saw. Not to anyone. If you tell the others, there will be more danger. You didn’t believe me before. I ask that you believe me now. Forget about what you saw. Leave here. Forget it all like a dream.”
    Gary nodded. “Believe me, I want to.”
    Gary returned to the other three, who waited for him on the sand. He told them, “I need a drink.”
    â€œI think we all do,” said Rodney.
    They secured a private table in the hotel’s open café. Even Sam and Carol ordered strong drinks.
    â€œI still have tremors,” said Rodney.
    Carol looked at her surroundings, hugged herself and started to cry. Sam put an arm around her.
    â€œWe’re going to be okay,” said Gary. “We’re safe.”
    After the drinks arrived, he told them about his conversation with Jamarqui. He shared the warning that they not discuss the experience of the red storm.
    â€œThe last time we ignored his warning, look what happened. I don’t want a repeat. Let’s take an oath here, now, the four of us, that we just bury this experience, evil spirits, whatever the hell it was…” He looked into their faces. “That means we never mention it to anyone, not on the island, not to our spouses. Starting today, consider me superstitious, consider me scared…”
    He grew silent. Then Sam spoke up to the group. “I’m going to pray for us,” he said. “I recommend all of you do the same.”

Chapter Ten
    On the ride back to the island’s small airport, the seven Chicagoans sat on the wood benches in the back of the pickup truck, a study in contrasts. Kelly, Emma and Jake engaged in lively chatter, reflecting on highlights of the past week and the consistently flawless weather. Rodney, Gary, Sam and Carol sat in silence, faces stoic, emotions cold.
    Emma attempted to engage with her husband, offering him lotion, commenting on the unusual orange tan spread across his arms and face. He shook her off.
    â€œYou coming down with something?” she asked.
    He shrugged.
    â€œIt’s probably the ice cubes from our drinks,” said Jake. “I bet that’s what got me sick. It’s not like they are going to use bottled water for ice cubes.”
    â€œMy stomach’s fine,” said Gary in a firm tone that cut off any further discussion about his condition.
    Arriving at the airport, the passengers began climbing out of the pickup truck. An airport worker loaded their luggage on carts.
    Emma waited in the truck for several minutes before crying out, “Gary, you know I can’t do this by myself.”
    Wordlessly, Gary returned to the pickup truck and thrust his hand at her. She clasped it, leaned on him and delicately descended the stepstool, her face tight with pain.
    Once her feet reached the ground, Gary abruptly let go. She nearly lost her balance. He turned and headed to the main building.
    The driver stood by his vehicle, smiling and wishing the travelers a safe ride home. Sam stopped and stared at the man. An awkward moment passed before Sam wordlessly continued on his way.
    Seeing this, Kelly approached the driver and thanked him, semi-apologizing for the chilly behavior of some of the others. “It’s been a great trip. We’re just very tired.” She gave the driver a ten dollar tip.
    As Carol and Jake reached the entrance to the airport building, a thin, dark-skinned island man and his young son greeted them. The man carried a large piece of cardboard populated with a variety of dusty, out-of-fashion sunglasses. “One dollar,” he said. “Sunglasses, one dollar.”
    â€œOne dollar,” echoed the small boy, smiling, eyes bright, face weathered beyond his young years.
    Carol looked at them both and responded, immediate and firm.
    â€œNo.”
    Jake turned to look at his wife, surprised. Without slowing her stride, she entered the building.
    Inside Cassidy International Airport,