The resort had organized a "Traditional Thai Dance" performance in the Grand Ballroom in a desperate bid to maintain normalcy. It was a grotesque display of beauty against the backdrop of terror.
Liam and Sarah were in the front row, Liam's arm draped over Sarah's shoulder. They looked tired, the booze wearing off, replaced by a nagging, low-level headache that they tried to massage away.
"I feel a bit... dizzy, babe," Sarah whispered, rubbing her temples. Her skin looked strangely tight, as if it were being stretched over her skull.
"Me too," Liam muttered. "Must be the humidity."
At the back of the room, Maggie was clutching a glass of water, watching Lucas walk back in. He looked different. His shoulders were set. He didn't look like the sulking boy from Surrey anymore. He looked like he was carrying a secret.
Thomas reappeared, his face a mask of granite. He walked straight to Maggie. "We're leaving. Now. Collect the bags. We're going to the shuttle bay."
"Thomas, it's eleven at night!" Maggie hissed. "Where would we go? The doctor said the roads are blocked."
"Anywhere that isn't here," Thomas said, his eyes scanning the dancers on stage. "The performers. Look at them."
Three dancers in gold headdresses and silk costumes were moving in sync. But as Thomas watched, he saw one of them stumble. It wasn't a misstep; it was a motor function failure. Her leg twitched violently.
The music continued, but she remained frozen. A single, thick drop of black fluid hit her gold silk bodice.
She didn't wipe it. She didn't fall. She simply exhaled—a long, wet hiss that sounded like steam escaping a pipe.
"Liam," Sarah said, her voice thick. "Liam, my head hurts. It feels like... it feels like something is buzzing."
Liam turned to her. "Sarah?"
Sarah's eyes were rolling back. Her veins were pulsing a dark, bruised purple under her skin.
"Thomas," Maggie gasped. "Look at her."
Thomas moved. He grabbed Lucas by the shoulder. "Go. Now. To the room. Grab the bags."