Emma inspected the Glock with clinical detachment. "Learned this on set."
"Don't they use props?"
"Sometimes real ones." Her fingers dismantled the firearm with practiced ease. She scrubbed the barrel interior with her shirt hem, polishing the firing pin. "You should kiss this beach. The sand saved your life."
I chuckled at her phrasing. "Jammed the chamber?"
"No. Grit in the hammer mechanism weakened the striker's impact." With swift precision, she reassembled the pistol and tossed it to me. "Try it now."
I tucked it into my waistband. "Let's not waste bullets. We need to clean up first."
——————
Saltwater transformed them.
Emma emerged like Aphrodite from the waves—flawless even with seawater dripping from her golden hair. Kate's freckled, acne-speckled cheeks gave her a girl-next-door charm.
"Your skin's incredible," I told Emma sincerely.
"Obviously." She flicked her hair.
Kate waded closer. "Emma, you must be younger than me?"
Emma's eyes narrowed. "Good skin equals youth now?"
"Relax, superstar." Kate squeezed water from her tank top. "No paparazzi here. I'm 24."
Silence.
"26," I offered.
Kate turned to Daisy, who stood knee-deep, staring at her reflection.
"Not asking your age," Kate clarified. "Aren't you washing up?"
Daisy blinked, then mechanically splashed water on her face.
"25," Emma finally admitted.
Kate whistled. "You look 19."
Emma's smirk held genuine pleasure—until Kate suddenly pointed inland. "Thief!"
Jack crouched by our supplies, rifling through bags.
I drew the Glock. "Drop it!"
He bolted with two water bottles. Murderous rage surged—those were survival now.
The chase was futile. Jack moved like a jackrabbit.
"Lost anything else?" Emma panted when we regrouped.
"Just the water. Check your stuff."
As we inventoried, Daisy pressed an orange into my palm. "Eat."
Her kindness stunned me—until I really looked at her.
Bloodstains washed away revealed a face that belonged on vintage Hollywood posters. Where Emma channeled Monroe's voluptuousness, Daisy had Hepburn's ethereal grace—high cheekbones, a Cupid's bow mouth, and almond eyes that held quiet amusement.
A sob shattered the moment. Emma curled over her empty bag. "That bastard took my only water!"
"I'll get it back," I vowed.
Daisy wordlessly offered her orange. Emma devoured it without thanks.
Kate rolled her eyes.
——————
Total losses: two bottles. Not catastrophic.
Kate attacked a leather suitcase's combination lock. "There's gotta be more supplies."
I said nothing. Leather required blades—and tonight, I'd carve it open to feed Emma.
After twenty futile minutes, Kate kicked the luggage away.
I gestured at scattered clothes. "No one's changing?"
Kate crossed her arms. "Not with you ogling."
"What if I leave?"
"Still no."
"Scared Jack'll catch you mid-change?"
"Fuck off," she snapped, but her lips twitched.
Emma held up a sundress. "David, guard duty. We're washing up properly."
"In the ocean? I can still see—"
"Through six feet of water? Get X-ray vision first."
Daisy piped up: "Me too."
Soon all three waded in, clothes discarded on shore. Sunlight turned their bare backs into luminous marble sculptures.
I changed quickly, then scanned our surroundings: endless beach to the left, dense palms ahead, and to the right—
The wreck.
The Boeing's nose still speared that ancient banyan tree like some modern art installation. An idea struck: the cockpit might have valuables.
I yelled toward the ocean. "Hurry up!"
No response.
After five minutes of their oblivious splashing, I jogged to the shoreline.
Three heads whipped around. Three bodies submerged.
"Out now," I ordered.
Kate laughed. "Fuck off, creep."
"Serious business. Move it."
"Turn around first!"
I grinned. "What if we become blood siblings? Then we could bathe together."
Daisy actually considered this before Kate splashed me. "In your dreams, pervert."