What Happened In Paradise?

First Visit: Missing Three

Maxwell wakes up with a pounding headache and an overall feeling that it would have been better if he hadn't tried to fall asleep. He had tried to stay awake, but worry had worn him out enough to force sleep. He finds himself under the scratchy linen with no recollection of when he'd decided to get comfortable in bed.

"Give me a sec," Maxwell calls from his bed.

He rolls off, sits on the edge, and uses his feet to feel for his sandals. The cold tiles tingle his feet, leaving a dull sensation in the middle of his flat feet. He bends his right foot, sending his toes fishing underneath the bed for the missing footwear. When his toes don't connect with leather, he falls on all fours. His knees groan when they meet the ground and a shooting pain travels up his thigh, to his hips. He was awakened by someone knocking on his door. Now whoever is out there is banging it.

"I said I'm coming." Maxwell's voice is laced with impatience. One hand on the bed supports his weight as he clambers to his feet; his body feeling heavy and uncoordinated. If he didn't know better, he'd think he's hungover. When he's upright, he squeezes his temples to quiet the pounding in his head, then tiptoes across the cold floor to the door. Before he opens it, he spots his sandals, placed neatly by the door. Maxwell looks from the sandals to his bed, then back to his sandals. He shakes his head and slips them on. All the while, the banging rattles his door.

Maxwell swings the door open. "I said I'm coming."

"Well," Jess says, "you were taking too long."

Faint traces of natural light filter through the translucent covering; the darkness has lifted, but the sun isn't yet visible, letting Maxwell know how early it is. There is a shadow over The Villa despite the fact that the lights in the corridor are all on. Maxwell rubs the sleep from his eyes and straightens himself. He still wears the clothes he arrived in. His shirt, a last-minute online purchase - an attempt to get his mind into vacation mode before they landed - is ripe with his body odour.

"Are they back?" Maxwell asks.

Adam shakes his head, hangs it. "Maybe soon. It's still pretty early."

"This isn't like Steph."

"I agree," Jess adds. "She wouldn't have left without telling me."

"Did the old woman call the police?" Maxwell reads the fear Jess is trying to suppress and his heart is racing.

"We couldn't find her," Adam says. "But I tried calling...Every three number sequence variation of 1 and 9 that I could think of...nothing worked."

"We even tried searching the internet for emergency services...nothing came up." Jess pulls out her phone and thrusts it into Maxwell's face.

Coordinates, temperature and weather, a vague description of the island; there isn't much to discover about Water Island online. Maxwell wonders how much of this search Jess conducted before they boarded the plane. If she had seen any of this before, she surely would have insisted they vacation somewhere else. The idea of the tropics stupefied everyone, lured them in. At least we have service. Maxwell tries making an international call. At the other end, is the angry cry of static.

Adam takes the phone from him. "As I said, I've tried."

"So what do we do now?"

"We're going to go look for them." Jess seizes Adam's free hand. "Or at least try locating a police station...or a local. Anyone that can help."

Maxwell darts about the room, slipping on a clean shirt, freshening up, trying to shed some of the stenches of sweat and worry. Before they head out, they double-check all the rooms on the top floor of the villa, searching for Brian, Stephanie, and the caretaker.

"Did you guys check the first floor?" Maxwell asks.

"No," Adam responds. "Why?"

"You know Brian. He thinks 'no' means 'why not?'"

Maxwell leads the group down the stairs and walks around the rectangle that mirrors the top floor. All the doors are bolted, secured on the outside with large padlocks. Maxwell's desire to find his friends is now sharing space in his mind with his need to discover exactly what the old woman is hiding.

He climbs over the corridor and jumps into the yard.

"What are you doing?" Jess asks.

"I need to know what she's keeping in these rooms." Maxwell scavenges the yard for a discarded rod, something that can pry the locks open.

"You don't need to know anything besides where our friends are," Adam says.

"What if they're in there?"

"Really? In one of these rooms? You think the old woman overpowered Brian and locked him up?"

Maxwell shrugs. "She could have drugged him."

"So what? The caretaker is in the business of k********g foreigners? Aren't you supposed to be the rational one?"

"Rational. Not stupid." This will do.

White painted rocks are arranged in a circular shape around the roots of the palm trees. Maxwell retrieves one, rests it on the wall of the rail, and climbs over.

"What are you going to do with that?" Adam asks.

Maxwell takes up the rock, walks over to the closest door, then begins hammering it against the lock.

"Destruction of property." Adam seizes Maxwell's arm. "Breaking and entering. Are you trying to get us arrested?"

Maxwell pulls his arm free. "I'm getting into one of these rooms."

"Max...well, Adam's right. You're going to get us arrested."

"She won't call the cops. She's hiding something."

Jess looks away. That's as much assent as she will give to the situation, so Maxwell continues slamming the rock into the lock. By the time he gets the lock to loosen, his palms are red and pounding; his ears are also ringing. Maxwell tries to remember the closest building to the villa. Surely, the constant clanging has alerted someone. He pulls the lock apart then discards the broken pieces on the ground.

Maxwell pushes the door open; it doesn't budge. He tries slamming his shoulder into it; nothing. He takes a step back then tries to kick it open instead; still nothing. He searches the door jamb, seeking a way in, but the door doesn't show any weaknesses to exploit.

Adam steps up to the door and joins Maxwell's search. "Maybe it has some electronic lock on the other side."

"So why the padlocks?"

Adam shrugs. "A ruse for nosey people like you.

Maxwell glares at Adam. "This just proves my point. The old woman is hiding something."

"Do you think the old woman deserves some privacy?" The caretaker is standing in the corridor with a basket of mangoes and a large, green fruit Maxwell thinks resembles a cantaloupe until he looks more closely. "As I remember, you each only paid for access to one room."

Adam steps to the side and trips over the lock. "We're sorry."

"I'm not. Call the cops so we can tell them about our missing friends."