An hour and a half had passed since Mr. Travis Spade had arrived on the dock of the Fiji Islands Boat Tour. Departure time was supposedly 13:30, but the hands of Spade’s watch had passed those numbers long ago. He had just two more days in Fiji, and he was wasting them waiting on a dock. Minutes felt like hours as his skin started to burn, transitioning from a nice tan to the color of the light pink hibiscus he had picked for his wife. As he sat on the edge of the dock, watching the fish swim below him, his partner was conversing with every impatient tourist. Mr. Russell Cohle was shaking hands and engaging in friendly small talk, like he had known these people all of his life. Spade was the one in charge, but today he was too exhausted to do much of anything until the boat arrived. Cohle, on the other hand, was not acting like the assistant detective – or, in his words, “sidekick” – that he was. The tourists gave him assuring nods and a few minutes of their time. After all, there was plenty of it to spare.
Spade watched beads of sweat fall from his forehead into the clear ocean and wondered how small things could make such a commotion. He pulled his passport, along with his Chicago P.D. badge, out of his pocket. He and Cohle were “secret spies,” as he told his four-year-old daughter. In reality, the men were Federal Secret Service agents and had traveled to Fiji to accept an award for their work. The awards were presented early in their trip, so they had two whole days to spare.
Spade was calm and collected, as blunt as his short, brunette hair. But of course, balance was necessary; the government paired him with Cohle, the jokester, the socialite. Despite their differences, Spade respected Cohle’s extroversion. Spade was pondering his and Cohle’s relationship when he heard the distinct sound of a motor and saw a modest tour boat pulling up.
Anxious tourists pushed into line, desperate to begin the tour. Cohle waved to Spade, yelling, “Come on, then! What are you waiting for? I paid good money for these seats!”
Spade paused before stepping on board, his foot hovering over the gap between the dock and the vessel. A shadow seemed to loom over him; shaking off the feeling, he stepped on. The tour began.
Spade studied the passengers on board: 10 people, including the guide, the captain, Spade, and Cohle. A woman sat to the right of Spade; next to her sat a well-dressed man whose accent betrayed his Italian roots. His face was pinched in a scowl and he radiated negativity. Cohle was lost in another conversation with a typical American tourist: a man who wore a floral shirt and bucket hat, and whose face glistened with sunscreen. A Latino man and woman in their thirties held hands and kissed. Spade looked away. A woman in the far back wore glasses and had a journal in her lap. Her brown wavy hair grazed her shoulders as it fluttered in the breeze. Her sea green eyes caught his. Blushing, he jerked his head forward to avoid her gaze.
It was probably 16:15 – the sky had grown a darker shade of blue. The tour guide droned on about mountains, volcanoes, and the uninhabited islands of Mamanuca, but Spade ignored him. He was thousands of miles from his home back in Chicago, and he had no one but Cohle to talk to.
The tour guide instructed the passengers to peer over the boat’s edge as dolphins swam by. Some, including the American, took pictures, mingling around the edges of the boat to get a better view. When the animals swam away, the guide advised everyone to return to their seats.
The tour group of nine passed islands, spotted several more dolphins at sunset, and watched the colors of the Fiji sky shift from a light blue to magnificent oranges and pinks. The guests began to feel anxious; everyone had assumed the tour would be over by sundown. A few people in the back were whispering nervously, staring out at the darkening waters. The sky began to lose its beauty and shift to a dark shade of navy. A few stars appeared. The group grew quiet. Sitting in the awkward silence, Spade realized the boat hadn’t changed direction in a very long time. It was dark now; the only light came from the boat’s lantern. A small reef appeared suddenly, causing the boat to bounce over it. A few women screamed, and the Italian man looked ill.
Spade stood to find the captain.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said to the guide. “Have you heard from the captain at all in the last few hours?”
The tour guide’s face shifted from smiling to perplexed. “No, I haven’t. This is not our regular route, but I just assumed that the captain wanted to give you pleasant people a little extra sightseeing. I’ll go check on him now.”
He shuffled to the hatch door and knocked politely, then opened it.
“Excuse me sir, the guests were get-” He cut off mid-sentence. Spade rushed over to the guide, who stood in the door frame, mouth wide open. Spade could see the captain’s body slumped over, his pure white uniform stained with splotches of red. Spade threw the guide aside and rushed into the room. The captain had been stabbed several times in the back. He was dead.
Spade backed out of the door and slammed it shut. His mouth twitched, but he tried to remain calm. The guests were staring at him in fear. Spade craned his neck to see the guide leaning on the railing, all the color drained from his face. Cohle strode over and grabbed Spade by the shoulder.
“What’s going on? The passengers are nervous enough as is,” Cohle whisper-yelled into Spade’s ear.
“The captain is dead. No wonder we’ve been going straight this whole time.” Spade felt like his brown hair was turning gray with stress.
“Murder. Stabbed in the back,” he continued.
“So we have a murderer on the boat?”
Spade nodded and massaged his chin. He pulled his fedora down to shield his face from the passengers.
“I’ll handle this,” Cohle decided. But Spade pulled him back.
“The less people who know, the better. We need to get their alibis. We have to interrogate them one by one, even though we have limited spa-” Spade’s voice was cut off, like a knife slicing an apple. The boat lurched forward, as did the group of nine. Spade and Cohle slammed into the wall, while all of the passengers fell from their chairs. The guide fell overboard with a huge splash.
Spade leapt into action, diving over the side to save the guide. What he did not realize was that the water was very shallow; his shoulder rammed into the sea floor and his body exploded in pain.
The guide was dizzy but intact. As for the rest of the group, chaos had taken over. The door was flung open on impact, and the passengers saw the captain’s bloody body. Screams and shouts rang out. Spade managed to stand up and grasp his shoulder, scanning the wreck.
The boat had rammed into the sand with the motor still running. The couple had hopped into the water, grasping each other for support. The guide was lying flat on his back. The woman who had been sitting next to Spade and another man helped Cohle, who had somehow fallen from the boat and was knocked out. Spade noticed the woman’s strong physique and filed that observation away. Once everyone was on solid ground, Spade urged the passengers to follow him away from the boat; the motor could ignite any second. People scrambled after him. Not long after, the boat exploded, sending charred shrapnel flying.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Spade steadied his voice. “Our captain has been murdered. Obviously he was alive when we left the dock, and I believe everyone on the guest list is here. No one sneaked on or off the boat. Am I correct, sir?” Spade looked toward the tour guide.
“Let me check.” He pulled a small notepad from his pocket. “Sebastian is here. That’s me. Señor y Señora Galiano?”
The couple raised their hands to indicate their presence.
“Okay, Philip Martin?” Sebastian saw
the American man’s hand and continued, “Florencia Mariano?”
The strong woman raised her hand and said, “Please call me Flo.” Her cornrows were tied up in a bun, and her shirt sleeves were ripped off.
“All right then,” Sebastian continued. “Mr. Travis Spade? Okay. Mr. Russell Cohle? Oh, right, the unconscious one. Piero Giovanni? Okay. And finally, Gabrielle Moreau?”
The woman in glasses raised her hand, proving that one of the nine of them had murdered the captain of the ship.
The group uneasily inched away from each other, scrutinizing those around them.
“Please, stay calm,” Spade said. “If everyone is here, and no one got on or off, then one of us murdered the captain. We all know each other by now, plus we are on an isolated island, so there practically is no escape.” Spade smiled warmly, “Now, let’s get started.”
The team of nine (minus Cohle, who was still unconscious) worked on building a shelter. Señora Galiano and Gabrielle focused on finding tinder for the fire. The men and Flo gathered large branches to build a shelter. For three hours, the group worked on making a fire, building a shelter, and finding fresh water. Exhaustion was beginning to set in. Spade advised everyone to take a break and rest, and at that moment, Cohle awoke with a gasp.
“She did it!” Cohle extended his pointer finger in the direction of Flo. She reeled, shock etched on her face.
Spade pulled Cohle aside and whispered in his ear, “Cohle, you know not to jump to conclusions. Let’s be logical.”
Cohle nodded and surveyed his surroundings: charred ship and smoking hull halfway tilted into the water, along with the eight other people working hard and getting dirty. He raised himself and asked Spade about a plan.
“Well, my friend,” Spade began, “you need to direct the attention of most of the group away from me so that I can talk to each of them in private. I’ll start with Señora Galiano. Try to lighten the mood, too.” The two parted ways and headed toward their identified
Cohle kicked over a small palm tree and walked to the side where it was leaning. The tree could have been pulled up with one arm, but Cohle acted as if that were not the case. He looked strained and weak, trying to show a sign of struggle.
Cohle called out to Señor Galiano, “Hey, Señor! Necesito ayuda! Hablas ingles?” His face started to turn red, showing that he really needed help. His teeth were grinding as he “pushed” with all of his muscle.
“Yes, sir, I do.” Galiano raced over and helped Cohle with the tree, then began talking to him. Spade pulled the woman over and asked for her attention.
As Señora Galiano made her way over to Spade, he picked up a coconut and asked her to chop it for him. It took her well over five minutes, so Spade gave up and moved on.
“I need to know everything that happened on that boat Señora Galiano,” Spade calmly stated, “I work for the Chicago PD, so I handle things like this all the time.” Spade showed her his badge.
“Please, call me Luciana. Anyways, I got on, saw a beautiful volcano, and crashed onto this beach,” she spoke with an accent, but her english was clear enough for Spade to understand.
“Did you get up at all during the boat ride?”
“Only to look at the dolphins. Other than that I believe everyone was seated.”
Spade had a puzzled look on his face. He also only got up to view the dolphins. He saw no one else get up and head to the captain’s room. At that moment, he realized that the murder was committed when the tour guide was showing the group the dolphins. That meant that Sebastian was out of question. However, he would still need to question them all.
“I am sorry for interrupting your thoughts, sir, but am I free to go?”
Spade nodded his head in the direction of her husband, “Sí Señora. Would you be a dear and fetch me Señor Galiano?”
“Of course, and please, call him Antonio,” she answered, then strolled off to her husband.
The two exchanged a few words and nodded to each other, which put Spade on edge. Antonio approached the detective and nodded warmly. Spade explained the situation and showed him the same badge. He gave Antonio a coconut and asked if he could break it for him. He did so easily, and gave the coconut back to Spade to drink.
“Sir, could you explain your entire experience while you were on the boat?” Spade questioned.
The man gave Spade a very decent explanation about his ride on the boat, as well as information that he and his wife stuck together the entire time. During his alibi, Antonio was fidgeting with a shell, moving it back and forth between his fingers.
“I just want to make things clear,” Spade exclaimed, “You are telling me that you and your wife never left each other’s side. You also said that the only time you saw the captain was at the beginning of the tour. Therefore, there is no possible way for you or your wife to have committed this murder.” Antonio nodded assuredly, staring into Spade’s eyes. Spade took one more sip from the coconut and tossed it to Antonio, who caught it in both hands. Spade led him to the beach and departed of him, making his way to his next interviewee: Flo Mariano.
Flo had no trouble keeping up with the guys. In fact, she was one of two sole providers on the island, along with Antonio. Spade called her over and stopped her halfway through cutting some palm fronds.
“I am sorry to disturb you,” Spade said, “I just had to ask you a few questions.” She accepted his request and sat down on a log. Her ripped off sleeve-holes were drenched in sweat. Her muscle tone shone bright, and she seemed somewhat exhausted and very anxious. Spade sat her down on a log and began his interrogation.
Throughout the discussion, Flo said the same type of thing: only got up to see the dolphins, never saw anyone in the captain’s office, etc. What was strange was that every single person said the same thing. If that were the case, the captain would be alive and the ship would be back in Fiji by now. After a long day of interrogation, Spade went to sleep with one eye open. He wasn’t sure if that night would be his last. He expected everyone to be doing the same thing: keeping their distance and having trouble sleeping.
Spade found Cohle the next day and relayed all of the information to him. “Here is what we have,” Spade exclaimed, “You and I are out of question, I presume. I was with you for most of the time.”
“Don’t count anyone out of suspect, Spade,” Cohle’s voice sounded somewhat menacing when he said that.
“Fine. From my evidence, I can assume that you and I did not do it. We are still in question, but my present evidence proves us innocent.”
“What present evidence might that be?” Cohle replied.
“The witnesses of Gabrielle Moreau and Philip Martin. Both of them are positive that we never entered the captain’s room. Now, suspects: Mrs. Luciana Galiano seems frail, so I am unsure if she would have been able to thrust a knife into a grown man’s back. Mr. Antonio Galiano, however, could most definitely have done it. This goes the same with Flo Mariano, Piero Giovani, Sebastian, and possibly Philp and Gabrielle. Giovani says that he saw a woman enter the captain’s room, but Martin thinks it was a man. I asked each person to cut up a coconut for me. Here is what I came up with: Piero, Antonio, and Flo chopped up the coconut with one slice. For Sebastian and Philip, two or three. The other two women took a lengthy amount of time to break open the coconut. As per usual, when chopping a coconut, you use your dominant hand to chop and your non-dominant hand to hold the coconut in place. Everyone, except for Philip, used their right hands to chop. So, if we are able to get to the wreckage, maybe we can examine the body and see who killed the captain and how.” Spade let out a breath and took a second to recover. “Now, let’s go unsink a sunken ship.”
A few hours later, Spade and Cohle were in their pants, looking more and more like tribal men as the days progressed. The two waded out until the warm ocean lapped at their necks. Their tip-toes were no good, so they finally began to swim. The boat crashed in shallow waters, but slowly floated to the barrier of the reef. The swim was especially difficult for Spade, as his shoulder was swollen and purple. After about five minutes, the pair reached the wreck and pulled themselves aboard. That shadowy feeling Spade felt when he first stepped aboard the boat fell upon him once more. The boat was turned at such an angle that the chairs were piled against the captain’s door, and it was impossible to stay on both feet. For this reason, the pair slid from the back of the boat onto the pile of charred chairs. The explosion had burnt most of the equipment on board to a crisp, and Spade was just hoping it didn’t do the same to the captain. After several minutes of hauling chairs off the door, Cohle was able to pull the knob open. Once the door swung open, a horrid sight lay before the mens’ eyes.
The captain’s bloody body was floating in water, his face looking at the sky. His eyes were bloodshot and the water around him was faintly red. Spade tried surveying any scene of the crime, but Cohle found the first clue. Or clues. Laying in the sand were two daggers of different sizes, both glimmering in the sunlight. Cohle jumped into the tight room that was full of water and submerged himself to search for the knives.
Cohle came up with a knife in each hand and a smile plastered on his face. The two swam back to shore and examined their loot. One blade was a long dagger that was mostly black. Spade turned the knife over and saw a small print on the bottom of the knife: Made in Italy. Spade turned to Cohle, who turned to him with the same sense of shock.
“This pocket knife has initials A.G.” Cohle muttered. Nine people, and two of them were murderers. Cohle and Spade swam as hard as they could to the base camp.
“Sebastian!” Spade cried, “Flo! Seize Antonio and Piero right this instance!” Cohle ran up and tackled Piero, and Sebastian followed suit, doing the same to Antonio. Luciana screamed and Gabrielle leapt into action, trying to pull Cohle off Piero. Flo grabbed her by the waist and flung her away from Cohle. This was an all out brawl.
After about a minute of intense struggling, everyone calmed their nerves. Piero’s face was red with anger and Antonio seemed about ready to kill someone. Well, another person. Everyone’s eyes were zipping back and forth between everyone. Spade could smell the paranoia in the air.
Spade brought the two blades from his bag and shoved them in the mens’ faces. Instinctively, they moved their heads to avoid getting stabbed, but then Antonio drew his face closer. He read his initials and his mouth dropped open. Piero’s face was full of anger, but now with a hint of confusion along with it.
The nine passengers slowly sat down in a circle, like kids at a campfire. Philip asked if he was in the book Lord of the Flies to try to lighten the mood, but daggers, both physical and mental, were being pointed in every direction.
Gabrielle was the first to speak, “Can we please all try to handle this properly without viciously attacking each other? Mr. Martin is right, we are all becoming savage. What we do know is that the only person with the initials A.G is Antonio Galiano. We also know that Piero is the one from Italy, and such a lavish blade could only come from a man of money. As we can tell by Piero,” Gabrielle gestured towards Giovanni, indicating his expensive clothes that were now tattered, “He seems to be a man of money.”
Spade looked around at the group, surveying each and every person. Every person with a story to tell. An alibi. Each one of them full of truths and lies, and Spade had to sort out which was which.
“Let’s have an open discussion about this. First we can start with me. Does anyone believe me to be guilty? If so, raise your hand and tell me why you do.” Spade waited for a response, and only one person raised their hand: Antonio.
Antonio began his assumption: “Well, you cannot be considered innocent without any examination. You could be directing any and all evidence away from you. You are the perfect suspect, the one that no one suspects!”
Spade thought about Antonio’s comment, directing any and all evidence away from you. He put the thought in the back of his mind and moved on to the next person. One by one, people revealed their sneaking suspicions about each other:
“Gabrielle is so shy and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. She seems weak but is probably holding herself back.”
“Antonio is strong, has a dagger, and is trying to direct attention to other people.”
“Both of these blades are made specifically for right-handed people, and I know for a fact that Flo is right handed.”
Piero thought it was Flo. Flo thought it was Cohle. Cohle was positive that Antonio and Piero did it together. Sebastian was looking around wildly, trying to keep up with the conversation. Luciana had nothing to add, and Philip was far beyond confused.
Spade then questioned everyone once more, “So who had a relationship with this captain?” He collected everyone’s passports while he was asking the question.
Philip, Gabrielle, Cohle, and Spade himself had no relationship whatsoever with the captain. Sebastian said the captain was his boss, and Luciana said that they had met before. Antonio agreed with that. Piero recognized the name. Flo searched her mind and found something interesting, judging by the expression on her face.
“I…” Flo paused, “I remember him from somewhere...” She rubbed her forehead and dove into the depths of her mind.
Spade dismissed the meeting in order to talk to Cohle alone. He gathered nine shells that were all unique. Spade assigned each of the shells a name: the largest one was Philip, the one that had a small barnacle was himself (due to the fedora), the smallest one was Luciana, and so on. He arranged them in a line and began to speak about each one of them.
Spade began his claims with a long intake of breath, “So, you and I are out of question. Time and time again we have been proven innocent: Miss. Moreau and Mr. Martin’s own truth can attest to that. As well as the two blades that we discovered.” Spade slid two of the shells aside. “Philip Martin is not one of the murderers, for he was taking pictures, he is left handed, and he supposedly has no reason to kill the man. I am assuming that Gabrielle is also innocent. Luciana wouldn’t hurt a fly, but her husband would. His own presence is aggressive and he seems perfectly able to commit this type of murder. Not to mention his own pocket knife as one of the weapons, even though it was most likely staged.”
“Well, we can’t count them innocent just yet. I think that Antonio and Piero killed the captain.”
“Of course, but we need to expect the unexpected, which is the expected in this case.”
“You are only making things more complicated. I say Antonio and Piero are both the murderers because their knives were used.”
Spade and Cohle continued to argue for a while, until the sun began to sink. More names were exchanged. Flo. Sebastian. Gabrielle. After getting nowhere, the men just grabbed sticks to bring back to the fire.
“Yeah, these plants are wicked cool!” Philip’s voice was heard by Cohle and Spade.
“I agree. These aren’t like the plants you’d see in Wisconsin, that’s for sure.” Gabrielle responded. Spade saw Gabrielle, Piero, Sebastian, Flo, and Philip all by the fire. Luciana and Antonio were talking just out of earshot by the shelter. The group sitting by the fire was engaged in a simple conversation, given the extremely tense situation.
“How do trees even use photosynthesis? I learned that in grade school, but I never really understood it. So they use it to convert sunlight into food? That’s wicked interesting.”
Spade’s eyes lit up. “Philip, repeat what you just said,” he exclaimed quickly.
“That’s wicked interesting?”
“No! Something about plants…”
“Oh, photosynthesis! Yeah, I learned about that a wicked long time ago.”
Spade shouted in delight, “Yes! Photosynthesis! Photo...synthesis! Philip, you genius!” Spade reached for Philip’s camera, which sat on the log beside him.
“Hey, what gives? That’s my camera!” Philip complained.
“Wait, he’s onto something!” Flo exclaimed, “You took a ton of photos when we were watching the dolphins!”
Spade clicked through each photo, searching quickly for a sign. Most of the pictures were dolphins, but some of them were of the passengers. A picture of Flo and Piero shaking hands. Spade tipping his hat to the camera. Sebastian and Cohle gesturing towards the dolphins. Gabrielle looking out over the railing. Only one photo featured Antonio, and Luciana wasn’t in it. Spade was clicking too fast. He went back a few pictures and found the one piece of evidence that solved the entire case. A picture of Piero and Sebastian smiling, but in the background was Luciana walking quickly, with a small bulge in her pants pocket, just big enough to be a pocketknife…
Just then a loud shout rang out among the camp. Everyone turned their heads to find Antonio lying on the floor, clutching his stomach. Spade saw Luciana run into the jungle.
The group ran to Antonio’s side, viewing what had just happened. A bloody spot was growing in Antonio’s chest, and he was writhing in pain.
“Go get her!” Piero told Spade, “We'll make sure he is ok.”
Spade nodded and ran off in the direction of Luciana. Cohle veered into the jungle, trying to find a shortcut. Spade ran down the beach, sweat already starting to form. His shoulder throbbed, but he was so close. So close to solving this mystery. Spade was only able to see moving trees and leftover tracks. He tried to catch up, but Luciana was fast. Like a fox. A sly, sly fox.
Spade dodged through trees and jumped over branches, avoiding bushes and large sticks. At one point he ran into a small clearing, which was surrounded by trees. A bush was separated down the middle, so Spade decided to follow that. Before he knew it, he was running up a volcano-type rock, trying not to fall off the edge or sprain an ankle. He made it to the top, but gasped as he saw the scene that was occurring up there.
Cohle had apparently made it up to the top first, as a knife was being held to his neck by the one and only, Señora Luciana Galiano. The innocence that her image portrayed was no longer in existence, instead replaced with a villainous aura. Cohle was struggling, but Luciana kept a firm choke-hold around his neck. So much for not being able to chop a coconut.
“Back away. That’s my one and only warning,” Luciana declared. Spade kept his distance, but slowly inched his way around her, forming a circle.
“Who was the other murderer?” Spade asked.
“I’ll let you find that out for yourself, if you survive these next five minutes.” Luciana answered. Spade searched for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. To his dissatisfaction, there was nothing. Cohle’s face was turning purple, and a woman’s scream echoed from the base camp. Everyone was in trouble.
Cohle stared helplessly into Spade’s eyes, begging for assistance. Spade began to sweat even harder, trying to figure out what to do. He then came up with a plan.
“So, how did you do it?” He asked calmly.
Luciana went on about her elaborate plan to take Antonio’s knife and use it to kill the captain. Spade inched closer with every word she said.
“But why?” He questioned.
“Because,” she began, “he was my father in law. He abused my mother and disgraced my siblings and I. It was the only way to avenge my mother.”
“Did you ever consider consequences? Or maybe the unexpected?” Spade asked. He looked at Cohle, who gave a small nod of understanding.
“Well of course I di--” Luciana wasn’t able to finish her sentence, for Cohle elbowed her in the gut and flipped her over his body. Spade ran to Luciana, who was already getting up. Before Spade could reach her, she swung her arm upwards, giving Cohle a nasty cut on his chest. He screamed and fell backwards, leaving Spade alone in the fight against a murderer.
Spade was fast, but Luciana was faster. Every punch he threw, she dodged it and was able to hit or narrowly hit Spade with her blade. She knew about his hurt shoulder, and she used it to her advantage. She would hit it hard, sending waves of pain into Spade’s head and causing his vision to go a little blurry. Spade brought his leg up to kick her, but she ducked down and swiped the remaining leg out from under him. He tried getting up, but she had pinned him down.
“Say your last words, Travis Spade,” Luciana growled those last two words, bringing the knife closer and closer to his throat. Her knees pressed his aching shoulder into the ground. Spade thought that this was it. He would never see his daughter again.
“Expect…” Spade was having trouble breathing, “the unexpected.”
At that moment, a large wooden stick came from the sky and smashed Luciana on the head, causing instant unconsciousness and probably a very large bump. Holding that stick was Flo, with Gabrielle next to her.
Spade stood up and rubbed his head. Luciana was unconscious and Cohle was in agony. Flo and Spade picked up Luciana and Gabrielle served as a walker for Cohle. Flo explained how Sebastian attacked the rest of them and tried to use the Italian knife to kill someone. She said that her and Piero jumped on him and Philip was able to hit him on the head. The reason Spade heard a scream was because Sebastian cut Gabrielle on the leg.
Everything was adding up. Sebastian wanted him dead probably because of the pay that that he received, and Luciana wanted him dead for abusing her family. Luciana used Antonio’s knife and Sebastian bought one that was made in Italy. During the dolphin watching, Sebastian distracted them all as Luciana snuck into the captain’s room, using her unknown strength to stab him multiple times in the back. Then Sebastian took his turn while Philip was taking pictures.
The murderers woke up tied to a tree, while the rest of the group focused on healing their wounds and getting rescued. After three more days, the group was found. A rescue boat noticed their S.O.S fire and pulled them on board. Everyone had a cut or a bruise that needed examination.
Spade sat on the deck and watched as the dock of the Fiji Islands Boat Tour came closer and closer. Only five days ago, ten people left this dock in search for a new discovery. What no one expected, however, was to come back battered, beaten, and minus one member. Two of them were murderers. One of them was dead. Six of them were injured. Spade pulled his fedora down over his face as he stepped over the gap between the boat and the water. No more shadows. Last time he was on this dock, he was a shy man who needed a partner to speak for him. But this experience taught him to be a social leader in the scariest of times. The truth was revealed, and those tiny beads of sweat, Luciana and Sebastian, two innocent beings, made a very large commotion in that sea of those people’s lives.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.