The hum of the private plane vibrated softly through the floor, mixing with the occasional clink of ice in plastic cups and the muted laughter of his old friends.
Ryan blinked awake, the sleep still clinging to him like a fog. Outside the window, clouds rolled by like soft mountains, the sun cutting golden streaks across the sky. Somewhere below was the ocean-and beyond that, the island.
He stretched, stood, and glanced toward the cabin. The others were already deep in conversation, scattered across the wide leather seats and narrow aisle like a patchwork of the past.
"Look who finally woke up," Tasha called from the back, lifting a cup of ginger ale like a toast. "Detective Dreamy's alive."
Ryan smirked. "Tasha. Still doing stand-up, I see."
"Only when the audience is this easy." She leaned back with her boot propped on the seat in front of her. "Come on, Keller. We're playing 'Where Are They Now.' You're up."
"Pass," Ryan said, walking down the aisle. "I've had enough interrogation for one lifetime. Too much going on with the police."
"Too bad," said Derrick, rising from a seat near the middle, arms out wide like a game show host. "This isn't optional. Reunion rules: everyone spills something."
Derrick looked exactly the same, somehow. Same cocky grin, same effortless charisma. He wore a designer jacket over a white tee, and his watch probably cost more than Ryan's apartment.
Ryan sighed and dropped into the seat across from them.
"All right," he said. "Fine. I'm a cop. Still. Doing the usual-breaking up fights, chasing idiots, paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Actually the other day I turned in this kid who stole some car. Was about 19 but cried as much as a newborn baby."
"Still single?" Tasha teased.
"And still breathing," Ryan replied. "That's good enough for me."
Across the aisle, Emily smiled softly. She hadn't spoken much yet, just watched the group with quiet amusement. Her hair was longer now, a warm brown curtain tucked behind one ear. She looked calm, but her eyes were distant-like they were somewhere far off.
"I'm working with the CDC now," she said when the spotlight turned her way. "Research team. Mostly pathogen tracking. Viruses, mutations, that kind of thing."
Tasha raised a brow. "So if there's ever some kind of pandemic, we're in good hands?"
Emily paused for a fraction too long.
Then she smiled. "Hopefully, you'll never need to find out."
"Ominous," Ryan muttered. "I feel safer already."
"Relax," Luke chimed in from a few seats back. He wore a faded bomber jacket covered in patches, headphones around his neck. He looked like he hadn't slept since graduation. "If there was some kind of disease capable of causing a pandemic, it'd be a lab thing. Some deep-state experiment gone wrong."
Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, here we go."
"No, seriously," Luke said, leaning forward. "You've seen the articles, right? About abandoned military installations, test islands, secret viruses?"
Derrick laughed. "Dude. You know this is my island, right? You're literally coming to my party. You think I'd throw a rager on top of a biohazard?"
"I wouldn't put it past you," Ryan said.
"Hey, the place is clean," Derrick insisted. "It used to be government-owned, yeah. Some bunkers, old comm towers, boring Cold War crap. I just built over most of it. There's a beach, a private pool, a bar, and a whole-ass chef who makes some amazing lobster. I got a fishing boat too so if you catch anything, give it to him and you'll have a fantastic meal."
"Fancy," said Tasha. "I'll give it a solid twelve hours before we break something."
They all laughed. For a moment, it felt like high school again. Like nothing had changed-no years between them, no distance, no awkward memories.
Ryan looked around at the faces. All older, all worn in different ways. But still them. Still his people.
"I missed this," Emily said softly, as if reading his thoughts.
"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "Me too. Plus, someone's gotta keep you guys from doing something stupid."
Outside, the clouds began to thin. A shimmer of ocean below caught the light.
Derrick stood up and pointed. "There she is."
Everyone turned to the windows.
Far in the distance, an island began to emerge. Green hills. Rocky cliffs. A long, curved beach. The glint of sunlight off the roof of a house-no, a mansion-near the shoreline plus a few other smaller buildings speckled across the island.
It looked beautiful. Serene. Isolated.
Ryan felt a flicker of something in his chest. Not fear, but unease. Its as if he knows something will happen but he doesn't know what. Like something deep in his bones knew: this place wasn't on the map for a reason.
He leaned back in his seat as the plane began its descent. Eyes drifting shut again.
In his dreams, something screamed below the surface of the earth, like a darkness clawing its way out of the depths, jagged and decayed fingers trying to find a way to get to the people above. Its skin was decayed with bits of flesh hanging from its bones.
Ryan jerked awake, breath catching in his throat. Sweat beaded across his forehead. The hum of the engine settled back into his awareness.
What the hell was that? I've never had any dreams like that before...
something was off.
The cabin was quiet. Too quiet.
The seats around him were empty-no laughter, no chatter, no sign of the others.
Across the aisle, one man sat alone. Pale gray hoodie. Hood up. He was leaned back, seemingly asleep-until he shifted, and without turning his head, spoke.
"Nightmares?"
Ryan blinked. His throat was dry. "Yeah... something like that."
There was a pause-long enough to stretch the air tight.
Then, the man turned slightly toward him. A scar curved across his jaw. His eyes were dark, unreadable. When he looked at Ryan, it was like he was seeing through him.
"You've got the tattoo," he said flatly.
Ryan frowned. "What?"
The man nodded toward Ryan's neck. Reflexively, Ryan reached up and touched the side of his skin-just below his jawline, almost tucked behind the collar.
His fingers brushed the edge of a small, faded tattoo-a symbol he'd long forgotten. A jagged ring. Three interlocked lines inside it. Like a crest or a barcode stylized into a shape.
"Anyone connected to the 1995 bioweaponization program had one," the man said, voice calm but cold. "Didn't think any of you were still walking around."
Ryan stiffened. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The experiments," the man replied, eyes still locked on his. "You don't remember? Or maybe they just told you to forget."
A beat passed.
"They ever affect you, Keller? Nightmares. Visions. Anything strange... beneath your skin? Do you even remember your own childhood?"
Ryan's heart kicked into his ribs.
"Who are you, and how the hell do you lnow my name?" he asked.
But the man just leaned back again, pulling the hood farther over his head.
"You'll find out soon enough."
Ryan glanced around. The other passengers were suddenly back-Tasha mid-sentence, Luke was cackling at his own joke. Emily stood near the aisle, stretching.
Ryan turned back to the seat across from him.
Empty.
No hood. No scar. No sign anyone had ever been there.
"Did anyone else s-"
The intercom crackeled to life before Ryan could finish, followed by Derrick's obnoxious voice, "Well, everyone, it seems we have finally landed in paradise. Be sure to gather all of your belongings and wait for the arrival of everyone's favorite charismatic host, me, on the beach for the best island tour you'll ever see!"
Everyone stood up, gathering their bags and heading towards the door.
Derrick stops me just before I leave.
"Hey, dude, it looks like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, just some bad dreams." I replied quietly, and I walked away quickly before he could question me further.