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pulled out when he started complaining of headaches and never came back for the rest of the day.” Malcolm looked thoughtful for a few moments, “I think that’s what happened to Billie.”
    “Doesn’t explain the reasoning though.”
    Malcolm looked surprised. “You are very shrewd,” he smiled. “That part, I’m not sure of yet. But I think we’re being exposed to something. Why else would you send thirty strangers to a remote island?”
    Rayne nodded and bit her inner cheek; she didn’t want to blubber in front of this amazing man.
    “You have anyone waiting for you at home? Parents, friends, partner? Because there’s always hope that they will also sound the alarm.”
    At that, Rayne blinked a few large fat tears.
    “Hey, hey, hey...don’t cry, Love. We’ll be fine; I’ll figure it out.” Malcolm propped up onto an arm and, with his free hand, gently stroked the tears away. “I would never normally say this, but you are just breaking my heart.”
    “This is the worst date I have ever been on.” Rayne sniffled, muffling her choked laugh. Malcolm beamed back, and despite the matted blood on his face, he looked more handsome than ever.
    “What do we-” Rayne’s voice was cut off by a delicious kiss from Malcolm. He snaked a hand through Rayne’s damp hair and cupped her head ever so gently. The danger and rush of surviving pumped wildly in her veins, Rayne couldn’t help but return the deep kiss.
    “So,” Rayne managed breathlessly, “what do we do now?”
     

There was blood everywhere. It coated the walls, the floor--there were even spurts on the ceiling. Rayne held a double-ended canoe paddle in both hands and braced herself; this was not in the brochure.
    Rayne stood in the middle of the killing floor, a secret chamber within the airplane hangars where the “resort” managers checked out their guests. Bile threatened to spill out from Rayne’s throat, but she swallowed firmly and started to breathe through her mouth.
    A large stainless steel table sat to the side of the room. Installed at regular intervals were several built-in circular power-saws sitting idly, the teeth riddled with shards of bone and strips of tissue. Beside the table stood large dripping containers filled with the putrefying meat of their fellow guests. Rayne could see a tuft of matted magenta hair poking out through one of the mounds.
    Rayne crinkled her nose as she walked around the room to see if there were any hidden holding chambers or computers. Earlier, Malcolm had stolen a biohazard suit from a wandering worker and handed it to Rayne; he pocketed a small taser found on the suit’s belt to complete their disguises as captor and captive. Since leaving the shack, they had clambered and slipped down the forest hillside following fresh tire tracks leading back to the airport. It was the only clue they had.
    They entered the hangar with the most footprint tracks leading inside, Rayne wearing the yellow biohazard suit and holding the paddle as though she confiscated it from Malcolm. The hangar concealed a suite of industrial-like office rooms and was eerily quiet. With no one to stop them, Rayne followed a small trail of blood to what she would learn was the killing floor, while Malcolm followed footsteps that led further down into the building. He had shown Rayne a flash drive which he hoped to load onto an encrypted website that would alert his friends to send help. Finding a computer was their prime goal. Lost in the horror of the bloody room, Rayne almost missed the hissing voice of Malcolm behind her.
    “I think I found the place we need, but we need to make a distraction first. Follow me.”
    Rayne stepped out of the blood and wiped her feet on a nearby cloth before running after Malcolm and back to the undergrowth. Malcolm scurried down the forest running parallel to the hangar, coming to a stop at the two-thirds mark.
    “You’re not going to like this, but I think there are surviving guests in this part of