“I’m getting too old for this,” he whispered to himself. Simon was blindfolded, heading God knows where, via an air-conditioned van. He was sure he wasn’t alone, but they had been instructed not to talk. He wasn’t going to start breaking the rules now.
But he shouldn’t complain, because he agreed to this. He signed all the paperwork. I should have asked a lawyer to check them out, he thought belatedly. The invitation was just too good to pass up, and the danger and uncertainty attached to it appealed to his adventurous side. The organizers knew him, knew his background, and yet they still invited him.
“What the hell, I need to know what happens next . . . ,” he told himself, and at sixty years old, with his spanking new senior citizen’s card in his wallet, this might be the last big adventure of his life.
She was excited and scared at the same time. She felt the familiar feeling of flying, so she was sure she was on a plane. Going to where, she wasn’t sure. After the two-hour van ride, they were ushered into a plane. She still had a blindfold on, and she was excited. Someone helped her up the steps and strapped her in. Something big was going to happen, she could feel it. The anticipation was in every pore of her body, and her heart was beating fast.
Philip wondered what the people back home would think when they found out he had gone on a trip without letting them know. He was sure there would be some kind of commotion. Not that he would be missed, specifically, but . . . well, they would need to know where he could be found. The attraction of this retreat for Philip, apart from the deal and the money, was the chance to disappear, at least for a while. To regroup. He needed to regroup, desperately. Plus, there was Stella, of course. An opportunity he just couldn’t pass up.
He felt the spray of water on his face. After the land and the air trip, he was now on a boat, going who knows where. Not too fast, but still pretty fast enough that the sea water sprayed his face from time to time.
This is it, Maggie thought, when the motor of the boat stopped. After hours of travel, she had arrived where the retreat was going to be held. Her last manuscript copy was in her bag, with the required seven copies already submitted before the trip started, and although it hurt to write it, she knew she had to confront it when the time came for the reading. She would also need to deal with her gut feeling about this whole exercise and how she had a sneaking suspicion that this was all staged to get her here, at this point.
Well, I am ready, Maggie thought. Bring it on.