The humid air hit like a wall the moment they stepped off the plane. Thick, warm, laced with salt and blooming flowers. It smelled like summer. Untouched. Wild.
Derrick stood near the path with a stupidly wide grin, sunglasses on, tropical shirt half-unbuttoned. He raised his arms like a cruise director welcoming a new batch of tourists.
"Welcome, my friends, to my island!"
A dirt trail wound ahead, carved between tall tropical trees and lined with flickering solar lights embedded in stone. The sound of waves crashing nearby mixed with the hum of cicadas. Somewhere deeper in the forest, birds shrieked and branches rustled with unseen life.
"Come on," Derrick said, shouldering a canvas pack. "I've got a whole walk planned. First, we hit the ruins, then the old Cold War junk, then paradise."
They followed him in a loose, joking parade.
Ryan walked near the back of the group, quiet, eyes roaming.
The jungle here wasn't untouched, but it wasn't entirely tamed either. Trees had grown tall and hungry, roots curling over broken stone paths and moss-covered concrete. Occasionally, they passed strange shapes hidden in the underbrush—low walls, collapsed archways, statues eroded by rain and time.
"This place used to be a trading outpost back in the 1700s," Derrick called back. "Then it got abandoned, then the military moved in for, like, fifty years. They shut it down in the 90s and boom—my realtor sends me this hidden gem."
Luke let out a low whistle. "I'd ask how much it cost, but I think I'd cry."
Derrick smirked. "Let's just say it's more affordable when no one wants to touch it. I dunno why."
Tasha raised an eyebrow. "You mean when it's probably haunted."
They passed a crumbling wall covered in carved symbols—weathered markings half-swallowed by vines. Emily lingered near it, running a hand across the stone with a thoughtful frown.
Ryan glanced at her. Something felt off with these ruins, and Emily could feel it too.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Just… these symbols. They look like a blend of Polynesian and something else. Maybe local dialects or lost language variants."
Derrick clapped his hands. "Alright, nerd moment's over. Onward!"
They walked deeper.
The forest opened up into a clearing where a squat military bunker stood half-buried in the hill. The rusted metal door was chained shut, a long-dead keypad hanging limp beside it.
"Old communications station," Derrick explained. "There are three more like it scattered around the island. I was gonna demolish this one, but the vibes were kinda cool. Plus, no signal here without the old antennas."
Luke walked up and knocked on the door. It echoed dull and heavy.
"Still sealed?"
"Yeah. And before you ask—yes, I tried to break in. Bolted tighter than Fort Knox. Probably just old wires and rats inside anyway."
Ryan stared at the door. Something about it made his skin crawl. Not fear, exactly. More like pressure. Like something was leaning against the other side, waiting.
I'll find something to break in. This is too suspicious. I don't know what is there, or if anything is even going on, but this place is a start.
He turned away.
They reached a modern guest house next—glass walls, wooden decks, hammocks swinging in the breeze. A chef waved from a nearby kitchen as if he'd been waiting just for them.
Ryan tried to relax, but his mind kept drifting. To the hooded man. The dream. The tattoo on his neck he'd never remembered getting. The way the guy had said his name without ever asking for it.
Do you even remember your own childhood?
He shook the thought off and rejoined the group as Derrick continued the tour.
They passed through a stretch of ruins older than anything else on the island—stone pillars swallowed by roots, steps that led to nowhere. The air felt cooler here, quieter. Ryan watched as Tasha and Luke climbed a wall to take selfies. Emily crouched to examine what looked like a stone basin at the center of the ruins.
"Maybe a ceremonial site," she murmured.
Ryan didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on something else—a steel hatch, barely visible behind a collapsed wall, half-covered in moss and vines. The edges were rounded. Industrial.
He stared for a second longer than he meant to.
Then someone shouted behind him—Derrick had opened a cooler stashed by a fire pit and tossed cold drinks to the group. Laughter rippled across the ruins again. Music played from a speaker someone had pulled out. It was starting to feel like a real reunion.
"We're heading back to the main house now," Derrick announced. "Dinner, drinks, beach vibes. And tomorrow: full send party mode."
They all cheered, heading back toward the path.
Ryan lingered one last moment at the ruins before following.
By the time they returned to the mansion, the sun had started to set, streaking the sky in deep gold and pink. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze as the waves lapped at the shore just beyond the infinity pool.
The mansion was ridiculous—three stories tall, open-air lounges, balconies on every level. A live-in staff handled everything, and the fridge was already stocked with enough alcohol to drown a small country. Dinner itself was full of crazy foods such as an assortment of fish, shrimp, and other sea creatures, along with laughter, questionable jokes, but an overall heartfelt and fun reunion.
That night, after dinner, most of them gathered on the patio, drinks in hand, music playing softly as the stars blinked into view.
Ryan stood off to the side, leaning on the balcony rail. Below him, the jungle sprawled out like a shadow. Somewhere in the distance, he could see the silhouette of the ruins. And beyond that… darkness. Forest. Stone. Whatever was underground.
Something wasn't right.
He felt it in his gut. His skin. His bones.
But for now, everyone was laughing. For now, there was no mysterious bad stuff, no nightmares, no whispers clawing at the edge of his mind.
For now, the island was paradise.
But somewhere below the surface, something that was nagging at him like it wanted to be found…