What Happened In Paradise?

First Visit: What Happened to Adam

Maxwell takes Jess to his room, sets her on the bed, encouraging her to breathe.

“What was that?” she asks him between truncated breaths.

Maxwell shakes his head; he’s on his knees before Jess. He finds her eyes, trying to calm her, trying to assure her.

“What was that, Maxwell? You…you saw it, right?”

Maxwell nods. He’s finding it hard to verbalize his responses. He can’t put words to this moment. Admitting he saw it makes him feel crazy. Even admitting that he doesn’t know what it is, makes him feel crazy.

“What was that?” Jess asks again. Maxwell searches for a way to calm her while admitting that he’s just as terrified as she is. He never touched it; it never touched him. Still, he feels the slick, slimy texture of it, creeping up his back, making its way to his head.

“I don’t know. It’s gone now.”

“It’s not gone.”

“Maybe we imagined it. Some kind of fear-induced mass hysteria.”

“You know we didn’t.”

“What are we going to tell Adam?”

“The truth.”

Maxwell scoffs. “That there is a red blob in the wall? Good luck with that.”

Maxwell rises to his feet. “We need to try to get some sleep. You can have the bed.” Maxwell takes up a pillow, fluffs it. “I’ll take the floor.”

“What about Adam?”

“He knows better than to wander off. Maybe he just took a walk to the front.”

Jess climbs into bed.

“Let him come back and see the room empty. Next time he’ll rethink leaving without saying anything, even if it’s just to walk to the front.”

Maxwell is awakened by the sound of angry drumming. He yanks the pillow from underneath his head; his head slams onto the carpeted floor. He uses the pillow to cover his head, trying to block out the sound of the nighttime festivities; the sound finds him, grows louder and louder.

“This damn place is hell!”

“Are they having some kind of celebration?” Jess is also up, sounding as exhausted as he feels.

“I don’t know,” Maxwell speaks into the pillow. “But I’m asking for my money back.” He pulls the pillow off his head and screams into the room, “I want my damn money back.” Who is he screaming at? It’s not as if anyone can hear him over the drums.

There is an explosion; Maxwell springs to his feet. Jess’ lips are white, completely drained of their pink colour. Her face is pale; patches of grey smatter her face, replacing her usual glow. They stare at each other, wordless. Adam. Perhaps it’s something in their conditioning - the conditioning Maxwell has often tried to deny - but Maxwell fears the worse. By the look on her face, Jess shares the same knowledge.

It makes no sense. They both rush from the room to the back of the plantation house, to the source of the gunshot. There they find Adam lying on his back, staring up at the moon…One eye staring up at the moon. One eye, one bloody empty socket, and a bullet hole in the middle. Maxwell surveys the ground. Where is the other eye? He finds it nestled at the base of a drum - a series of drums. They sit next to Adam’s body. The source of all the noise Maxwell had heard. Perhaps this is what drew him behind the house. Perhaps he pleaded for peace and got a bullet for an answer.

There’s another body.

A few feet away from Adam lies the body of a female soldier. She wears a dour expression and a tight bun. Beneath her chin is another bullet hole. Jess is on her knees, cradling Adam’s head.

“This has to be a dream. Tell me it’s a dream.”

He wants to. He wants to boldly state that Adam isn’t dead and that they’ll be awake in an hour. He wants to swear to Jess that this is all a dream and he wants all those promises to be true.

They’re joined by more soldiers. He turns to face them.

“She killed Adam.”

“Your friend - he was acting…a bit strange.” Another soldier: young, male, lean, and fair. “He reached for her gun. She had no choice. She had to protect herself.”

“How do you even know this? You weren’t here.”

“I was here. I went to get help.” He points to another soldier. Maxwell knows this one. She’s the soldier who’d half taken Brian and Stephanie’s missing persons’ report. “He grabbed for the gun, charged at her…she did what she had to,” the young soldier continues.

“Adam wouldn't...” Wouldn’t he? He threw the old woman over the corridor. The Adam from home and the Adam of Water Island seem to be stark opposites. Maxwell sheathes his doubt, turns to Jess. He turns back to the soldier. “What about his eyes?”

The soldier straightens. “What about it?”

“Well…” Maxwell points to the eye next to the drum. “It’s there…” Maxwell points to Adam’s body. “...And the socket is over here.”

The soldier squares his shoulders. “There will be an official WIC investigation.”

“Who shot her?” Maxwell asks.

The soldiers both examine the body. The woman says, “Maybe she thought this was better than the consequences. We take these types of things very seriously, Maxwell.”

Types of things. “You mean murder?”

“Extra-judicial killings,” she corrects, “There will be a full investigation.”

“Yea,” Maxwell says. “That makes three investigations. We’re still waiting for the first two to be completed.”

“Hey! Get away from there!”

“What?” Before Maxwell can respond, the female soldier is on Jess.

“Get off me,” Jess screams. “You’re hurting me.”

Maxwell grabs the soldier’s ponytail and yanks her head back. “Get away from her.”

“She is interfering with our investigation.”

“Give her a moment.” Maxwell wraps the ponytail around his hand, tighter. The soldier hasn’t released Jess and it doesn’t appear that she intends to. He pulls harder. “Give her space to grieve.”

“Stop!” The soldier behind tries to get their attention. He moves around them, goes to the front, tries to secure their attention. “Stop! You are destroying evidence.”

Each time Jess gets closer to Adam’s body, the soldier pulls her away; Maxwell yanks the soldier by the hair. Indentations in the grass; boots sunken in, anchoring conviction, they are destroying evidence. There are new tracks across the grass, sections where grass has been uprooted, revealing the mud underneath. There will be no way to discern the old scuffle from this new one, but if Jess needs another moment with Adam, she will get it. Maxwell reaches for one of the drums and slams it across the back of the soldier’s head.

Another gunshot. He spins, falls on his ass; he scurries backward, bumping into the soldier he’s just knocked unconscious. A large group of WIC soldiers is now gathered behind the plantation house. Maxwell desperately wants to flee.

“Jess,” he whispers.

Jess gasps, finally noticing the group of soldiers.

The soldier Maxwell has knocked unconscious squirms behind him. He must not have hit her hard enough. He moves away from her, repositioning his body in such a way that he has a view of the mass of WIC soldiers as well as the soldier that’s stirring. She blinks, rubs the back of her head, the spot where Maxwell hit her.

“Maxwell?” She utters his name like a question. A sweet, gentle, tentative question that sounds oh so familiar. Tears pool in Maxwell’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“What’s happening?” The female soldier blinks rapidly; she starts to breathe faster; she shuffles across the grass, bumping into Jess, causing her to tumble onto Adam’s lifeless body. The soldier turns; screams - ear-shattering and soul-rending.

“Back away from the body.” A voice calls out from the sea of soldiers. “You will be escorted to your rooms.”

Maxwell looks over to Jess, she’s already clambering to her feet. She nods at him. Maxwell stands, turns to face the soldier swarm, then back to the young man standing over Adam. He wanted to preserve the scene; he can be reasoned with.

“We expect transparency,” Maxwell says.

He says nothing.

“And international cooperation,” Maxwell adds. “Can we find an embassy...or a consulate on the island?”

“We handle our own affairs,” the young soldier says.

“I don’t trust you with any of our affairs.” Maxwell turns; the army of soldiers part allowing him to pass. They’re not escorted; they find their way to their rooms on their own. They decide to stay in Maxwell’s room. Maxwell doesn’t want another encounter with the blob and he doesn’t want Jess to be alone.

“I guess this wasn’t so lucky after all.” Jess opens her palm to reveal the seed that the caretaker had given her. No hint of grey, the seed is blacker than the night sky; obsidian. “I don’t know why I trusted that crazy woman.” She tosses the seed across the room; it bounces off the wall, rolls underneath the bed.

“I think you should still keep it.” Maxwell doesn’t know what to say to take away Jess’ pain. Adam is gone; the others are gone. Jess is still here, and she needs to keep that seed. He’s so certain of something that makes no sense. Also, it occurs to him all too late that he’s being insensitive. He reads Jess’ expressions, planning his apology before she lashes out.

“Adam had it. What good did it do him?”

“I thought…he threw it out.” Again, his focus is flawed. He looks down, follows the path his thumb takes as they trace the lines in his hand.

“It’s mine…was mine. I slipped it into his pants when I laid out his clothes.”

Maxwell continues to follow the line of his thumb.

“I needed to believe that old woman. I needed to feel as if something could mark us as safe.” She turns to face Maxwell. “Because Maxwell, we aren’t safe. We aren’t safe on this island. It’s like we’ve entered the Bermuda triangle and there is no way to get out. We’ll die here and become folklore back home.”

“Do you…do you want to leave? Our flight isn’t for a few days but we can try changing it.”

“It won’t matter, Maxwell.” Jess falls back, rolls on her side, then pulls her body into the foetal position. “We were marked for death the moment we arrived on this island.”

Maxwell opens his mouth to say something. What? What can he say to numb her pain and heal her despair? He closes his mouth again, pulls the sheet up over her, tucks her in. In the morning they’ll decide if they will leave their friends behind and save themselves. Not much time.