Chapter 43: Cabin 4, Night 4
The screen door of Cabin 4 slapped shut behind Briv with a finality that made him flinch. The air inside was still and warm, heavy with the scent of bug spray and male sweat that the ceiling fan did little to disperse. It was a stark contrast to the lush, predatory energy of the main beach.
Jim was already there, sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk like an overgrown child, his phone—devoid of signal but full of downloaded content—glowing in his hands. The tinny sounds of exaggerated moans escaped his cheap earbuds. He didn’t look up.
“So,” Thomas drawled from the corner, his voice a soft, melodic counterpoint to the room’s grimness. He was meticulously folding a pair of linen trousers, his movements fluid and precise. “The great trial. Was it everything you dreamed?”
Briv ran a hand through his hair, his mind still replaying the image of Alya being led away to a different cabin, her smile looking a little too forced. “It was a mess. Sand everywhere. Chris making stupid jokes.”
“I heard Cabin 2 is already a non-stop party,” Thomas said, a knowing glint in his eye. He placed the folded trousers neatly into his drawer. “Valentina apparently has no off switch. And those two… what are their names? Kofi and Andre? Let’s just say they’re sharing everything.”
Jim pulled one earbud out. “Who’s sharing? Are they fucking? Already?” His voice was too loud, his interest blatant and unpolished.
“It’s just gossip, Jim,” Carmen said, her voice a calming presence from the doorway. She had to duck slightly to enter, her tall frame seeming to absorb the room’s awkwardness. She offered Briv a small, sympathetic smile that he desperately wanted to believe was genuine. “No one knows anything for sure.”
“I know what I saw,” Thomas murmured, turning his attention to a silk shirt. “Body language doesn’t lie. That cabin is a powder keg.” He let the statement hang, a carefully placed piece of kindling.
Briv felt a familiar, hot twist in his gut. Alya was in Cabin 1. Who was in there with her? That slick Korean guy, Kim? The old, muscular Logan? He paced to the window, looking out at the darkening jungle. “This is stupid. We shouldn’t be listening to this crap.”
“Why? Scared your little actress is getting a better script?” Thomas asked, his tone deceptively light. He wasn’t looking at Briv, but the barb hit its mark.
“Shut up, Thomas.”
“I’m just saying. This is the game. We’re all players.” Finally, he looked up, his gaze sweeping over Carmen. “Some of us are just better at understanding the rules than others.”
Jim, oblivious to the tension, blurted out, “I’d share with Valentina. I wouldn’t even care if those other dudes had been there. I’ve seen stuff way wilder online.” He blinked, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “What? It’s true.”
An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the whirring fan and the distant crash of waves. This was the atmosphere in Cabin 4: a low-grade, persistent discomfort. It wasn’t the explosive charge of Cabin 3 or the visceral hedonism of Cabin 2. It was a swamp of insecurity, manipulation, and social ineptitude, each man isolated in his own particular brand of unease.
Carmen broke the silence, her voice gentle. “I think everyone is just nervous. It’s the first night. No one knows what they’re doing.” She walked over and sat on the edge of Briv’s bunk, a deliberate act of solidarity. “I miss my person too, Briv. It’s okay.”
Thomas watched the exchange, a faint, unreadable smile on his lips. He saw the way Briv slightly relaxed at Carmen’s words, the vulnerability she so easily accessed. He filed it away.
Jim, however, stared at Carmen’s long legs stretched out from her shorts. “You’re really tall,” he said, with the tonal grace of a falling anvil.
Carmen laughed, a genuine, warm sound that seemed to push back the room’s gloom. “I get that a lot.”
“It’s cool,” Jim added, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “I like tall. In this one video, there was this tall German woman who could—”
“Jim!” Briv and Thomas said in unison, one voice exasperated, the other amused.
Jim just shrugged, popping his earbud back in. “Whatever. You guys have no culture.”
Briv let out a long breath, the fight going out of him. He looked from Jim’s oblivious face to Thomas’s calculating eyes, and finally to Carmen’s kind, understanding smile. This was his team. A porn-obsessed teenager, a snake in velvet gloves, and the one person who seemed genuinely decent. He felt a crushing wave of loneliness for Alya, and a terrifying, sudden understanding of just how long and how isolated this game was going to be.
The momentum of the night was shifting, the initial shock wearing off into a deep, simmering anxiety. In Cabin 4, the battle lines weren't drawn in passion or rivalry, but in the quiet, desperate struggle to simply not feel entirely alone.