The beach was slowly emptying out. People gathered their towels, flip-flops, and kids, chatting in low, tired voices as they headed toward the paths that led back to town or the hotels. Some were still laughing about the fight, others complaining about sand in their shoes or how they needed a shower.
Then a guy in swim trunks stopped dead in his tracks. He lifted one hand to his eyes, staring out at the dark water.
"Hey… something is coming," he said, voice rising a little.
A woman next to him turned too. She squinted, then pointed.
"Yeah… lots of people. Boats and ships are heading toward here."
More heads turned. Small speedboats cut through the waves first, white foam trailing behind them. Behind those came bigger vessels—coast guard-style ships with flags flapping, and even a couple of sleek yachts that looked way too fancy for emergency response. They were moving fast, straight toward the island.
