-Punta Arenas, Costa Rica, Tuesday, 7:21pm CST-

Heart hammering, head light with anxiety and despair Sophie dug her heels into the ground and stood defiantly against the nightmare in which she found herself. She couldn't do this, the woman found herself doubting, as with a cool level head she took charge of the situation, absorbing all information the riotous din that surrounded her had to offer. This was beyond her pay grade, and so far out of the executive assistant's league that she felt as though she were crushed beneath an insurmountable peak, it's tremendous weight bearing down onto her chest. Yet here Sophie stood in the midst of a total evacuation, barking orders.

No one had been prepared for the catastrophe that was the escape of the Indominous Rex, nor the resulting devastation. Contact with central control in the park itself had gone quiet more than an hour ago after some sort of militaristic coup. Without clear direction from the team that had - in theory - drilled for something like this, those on the mainland did their best to orchestrate everything from afar.

Paper strewn across the floor, screens lit with inconsistent live feeds, phones ringing endlessly, and radios shrieking with malevolent static as the haphazard team of telecommunication technicians, shipyard hands, desk jockeys, and even a ragtag handful of hospitality workers tried to maintain some semblance of control while they waited for support.

Caught in the frenzy Sophie found herself rushing about the center, relaying messages unable to be passed via choked phone lines, panic tightly pent in her voice. A manila envelope was clutched in her arms, her last tenuous grasp on what reality had been only hours ago. The destitute woman had just returned to work after a generous vacation, and had been brought here by Mr. Masrani himself to help ground the enigmatic man, and keep him on target. For, as luck would have it, just as Jurassic World was preparing to unveil it's latest wonder, the Costa Rican government was making preparations to sue the park, the brand, Masrani Global, and by extension Mr Masrani himself. The two had come to meditate, and now she found herself a soldier at war.

"The Highlander isn't responding." came a voice from somewhere along the bank of computers.

"Raise them again!" Sophie snapped. Wasn't it maritime law that you had to answer a distress call when you got one? Rich bastards couldn't possibly care less, she thought grudgingly of the people on the yacht, while the heroic little fishing boats they'd radioed chugged their way straight towards Isla Nublar, engines roaring.

"Don't bother, God damn nieto de putas!" Mr Jimenez, the gray haired harbor pilot shouted, his furrowed brow beaded with sweat as he leaned over a console muttering to himself.

Sophie felt a sharp pang of rage. They had to keep trying, they needed as many ships as they could get! With only five ferries, and over twenty-thousand people that needed evacuating, every moment and every ship counted. Rushing between phones, picking them up and having brief but terse conversations on each line she weighed the price of contradicting him, in the end choosing not to.

"¡Habla despacio, habla despacio!" Sohpie found herself shouting to the frantic man on the other end. "Please slow down, my Spanish isn't that good! ¡No-no hablo bien español!"

"Do we have somewhere for all these people to go yet?" a young woman interrupted, coming to Sophie for direction, her gaze pleading. "We'll need to disembark and get those ships out of the way, because once they all start getting closer to the dock, we'll have a bottleneck." she went on.

Blinking as she stared at her Sophie could tell that the girl was doing her best to make herself understood, but the question waited in the air unanswered for several seconds. Did they have some place for the people to go? Her mind a frantic whir of machinery, the concerned mother stood unmoved as she tried to banish the vile thoughts that consumed her, pushing her own mounting fears and sorrows down with a conscious effort, as she tried to puzzle out a meaning to the girl's words. Then something clicked.

"Yes," Sophie sighed, a sense of relief and some amount of control granted her by this knowledge. "The Red Cross has secured a large hangar just off port. They are setting up triage tents, cots, food, water, and supplies there. All evacuees are to be sent to the hangar." she said with a clear confidence, before adding, "They are also taking blood donations, we need to find a way to spread the word."

Nodding the young woman scurried away.

"¡Habla despacio!" Sophie called out again, turning her attention back to the phone, the brief moment of control and serenity passed.

It was as she began fretting that Jimenez let out a bellow of rage, fists slamming against the desk as he spit curses at the screen. "We've had a collision," he announced after a moment, anger replaced by a soft spoken sense of defeat and remorse as he sank into a nearby chair. "It's my fault, I should have double checked the courses I radioed the ships to follow."

"The Maria is taking on water!" Someone called from the back of the room.

Jimenez nodded as if his suspensions were confirmed. "Freighters can't exactly…" he paused as though trying to remember the idiom, age and exhaustion more evident on his sea weathered face than before "...turn on a dime. Call back the La Orilla, we have to rescue those people before it's too late."

"We have to keep working on the evacuation!" Sophie yelled a surge of maternal fear consuming her as she rushed towards the man, panic clear on her face, and a waver in her voice.

"And what do you propose we do?" The man asked, turning towards her with exasperation, "Let those people drown?"

"My son is on that island!" the woman heard herself shrill, all benevolence and resolve forgotten in an instant.

"And-" Jimenez began, giving her a collected look, "-he may very well have been on the Maria. What would you have us do?"

Knees threatening to buckle, Sophie could scarcely see the man past tears which she had refused to let fall for so long. Instead she took a long steady breath, allowing it out between her teeth in short chuffs, as though she were in labor. Her stomach in knots, the woman had been battling against the images conjured by her mind of her son, torn apart by some beast, or trampled beneath the heels of fleeing masses. Now, she could see him, almost as clear as day, trapped on a ship, water rising, then his poor, sweet face paled by death, eyes wide as he drifted into the darkening void of the sea.

"Oh god," she whispered, shutting her eyes against the heinous visions, cold fear numbing her body she began to quake. Ben was out there, alone and in pain, and she wasn't there to protect him, again. She couldn't do this, she thought, she just couldn't do this. She couldn't let him down again.

"The La Orilla, please." Jimenez reaffirmed to whoever might be listening, while Sophie - braced against a chair - remained quiet, sullen tears falling to the floor. She couldn't let those people die, no matter how scared she was for her baby. They were each someone's baby, after all.

Trapped in place, Sophie found herself swallowed by a grief she so desperately refused to let defeat her as the others raced on about, much work still to be done. It was a hand on her shoulder that broke the woman free of her dark, disembodied trance. Startled, she looked up to see Jimenez watching her with a pained gaze.

"Go, get some air," he murmured gently, "You could use a break." He adds when she opens her mouth to protest.

Glancing around at the frantic rush it felt like Sophie's absence couldn't be afforded, but she couldn't afford not to, the woman admitted to herself as she shakingly made her way to the stairwell.

Away from the endless cacophony that had been all consuming, and apart from the others Sophie found the air in the emergency stairwell to be cool and refreshing. Sinking slowly to the steps, the woman tried to breathe a little easier, and relish the peace she had found in this hellstrom. Forehead resting against a concrete wall, the woman realized just how tired she was, and how heavy her bones felt within her body.

Beginning to drift away Sophie was roused by the startling sensation of the envelope slipping from between her fingers, and she jolted upright, gripping it tightly. She stared at the parcel for several minutes, with a heavy heart. She had been asked to come here to help combat growing tensions between the Costa Rican government, the cumulative interest of the investors, and the label that was "Jurassic World."

It had been up to her to facilitate meetings with the Costa Rican board of Tourism to discuss the drastically lacking revenue to the nation - whose world wide allure was it's primary means of economic revenue. Additionally a little birdie had told her that they had also planned to bring up the monumentally increased amount of pollution, litter, vandalism, and petty theft in high traffic areas relating to the visitors to Jurassic World during their oftentimes brief stay in the mainland. So, tactfully Sophie had prepared for both battlefronts, hoping to get ahead of the game before the jackals in suits got involved.

Sophie let out a sigh, Mr. Masrani had hoped to broker goodwill between the government and his company. He had never wanted to take advantage of them - not in the way John Hammond had intended to at least - and had come to help. The man had researched several ways to help increase tourism and profit back to Costa Rica itself, and planned to invest in the building of a hotel on the mainland, financing expeditions through the natural beauty the country has to offer while educating visitors about the prehistoric world and the dinosaurs that resided within. Thus it would benefit both the nation which had experienced nothing but inequity and misfortune since Jurassic World's grand opening, and the park as well.

But, that was this morning, before the Indominous Rex, before all of the chaos and destruction. That was before Mr. Masrani had died. Now what was the point? The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. Mr. Masrani was dead. Dead. Sophie struggled desperately with that knowledge. He had always seemed to be an untouchable, imposing, and immovable force of nature. Charismatic and kind to a fault even as his business evolved, growing out of his reach and knowledge, he had always been a powerful Titan, in a world of lesser beings. And now he was gone.

If-if someone as powerful, and seemingly invincible as Mr Masrani could die- the mother thought, stopping herself abruptly. She refused to allow herself to go down that avenue, even as she allowed the once precious documents that she had been clinging to all day, slip from her grasp.

"Ben." she whimpered as the tears she was fiercely trying to restrain began to flow, "Oh Ben!"

Curling into the cool embrace of the wall the woman felt as though she could finally let it all out, when with a ticklish sensation her phone began to vibrate. Jumping, Sophie quickly yanked the device from her pocket, eyes wide. The heady exhilaration of hope flooded through her veins only to be snuffed out, when she recognized that it was not Ben, but his father Joseph. Feelings of hope were quickly replaced by grief, and a bitter sense of abandonment. The woman whose heart still ached with a tormented love for the man, considered dismissing the call entirely, but didn't.

Taking a breath she pushed all of her doubts and fears deep, deep, down, with a practiced care before answering. "Hello?" She said, voice thick with sorrow.

"Where are you?" Joe asked in a rush. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," She replied with a measured breath, "I'm fine. I'm in Costa Rica, on the mainland."

"Where's Ben?" The man's voice wavered, "Where's my son?"

"We-we've got everyone we can muster going to help with the evacuations, cruise ships, yachts, every local fishing boat equipped with a radio." Sophie said, nervously rattling off everything the makeshift relief crew had been able to accomplish. "The Red Cross has set up a hangar for evacuee intake-"

"Sophie-" Joseph tried to interrupt, but the woman couldn't bear facing the dark reality of the situation head-on, and found herself unable to say it out loud. Not to him.

"Word is that the US military has raised the Coast Guard," She fumbled on, gaze wandering about the small enclosed space as she wiped feverishly at her tear streaked face, "So, between that and-"

"Sophie!"

"And we-"

"SOPHIE!" Joe finally shouted, cutting through her stammering, "Where's Ben?"

"I don't know." she whimpered at last, ripping her mass of curly blonde locks from it's tight bun in an attempt to alleviate her growing headache. "I don't know! I just don't know!" She cried, wailing loudly as someone ran past. "Oh God Joseph I don't know where our baby is!"

Unable to contain herself any longer, the grieving woman tore at the buttons of her fitted blazer, unable to take a deep enough breath as she curled in on herself. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" She repeated with remorse, allowing herself to be vulnerable with her estranged husband. "He won't answer his phone! It's my fault, he's on the island out there somewhere, or on a boat- Oh God Joseph some of the boats are sinking! What if he drowns? What if he drowns? What if I never see him again, and nothing I'm doing to bring him home matters?" She hysterically begged for answers from him.

"I don't-" Joseph started though, clearly he was fighting his own war against the pain, anguish and sorrow in his voice as he paused to snuff his nose. "I don't know babe. I just- He's going to be alright."

His words hitting her like a sour note, the crying woman asked, "How do you know?"

"I don't." He admitted, the sound of his resolve breaking clear to Sophie, "I just- I..." The man trailed off, only the sound of his crying to be heard. Cradling her phone as though it were precious and frail Sophie listened, as weeping, she bitterly felt closer to her husband in that moment than she had in years.

"If," Joseph started uneasily after several long minutes. "If the worst happens-"

"Don't!" Sohpie screamed, stomach knotting so violently she felt a wash of acid coat the back of her throat.

"Just listen to me!" the man pleaded fearfully. "If the worst happens ...does he know I still love him?" He whispered before the question came again in the shout of a lost man, searching hopelessly for a way out. "Does he know I love him?"

Air knocked completely from her body, Sophie found herself shocked into silence by the wrenching pain she felt for him. She'd spent so much time angry at Joseph, hating him for abandoning her and their child when they needed him most that she forgot how badly he was suffering, and how much he hated and blamed himself for what happened. Like she blamed herself.

"Of course Ben knows you love him!" She said, choking back tears, struggling to reassemble her fractured armor. She wished she could be stronger, that she could hold Joe, and prayed that somehow, by some miracle, Ben was alright.

-Portland, Oregon, Tuesday, 6:53pm PST-

With the obnoxious tic-tic-tic of his hazard lights blinking, Joseph Pincus sat on the side of the road, his head resting against the steering wheel, where he had hastily parked when the grim news came over the radio, interrupting his evening commute with a deafening fanfare. The glass face of his cellphone hot against his ear the man cried freely, listening to his wife scream in some echoing hall, nearly half a world away. He had failed as a father a long time ago, he had no pretensions otherwise, but now as he sat so far removed from her, leaving her to fend off this grief on her own Joseph knew now that he had utterly failed as a husband too.

The sound of mourning ate up the line, as an angry blue car sped past, horn blaring. Trapped in a hell of his own mind Joseph's heart battered against his ribcage as he listened to the quiet, but ongoing news broadcast coming from the radio. Hope dwindling with every word spoken by the radio host the man found himself engulfed by fear, insecurities, and his own condemnation. His son was lost. Alone and trapped somewhere, that by all accounts, he had no means or assurance of leaving. The thought gutted the man, who loved his boy more than life itself as he sat chest heaving.

Of all of the man's many regrets, leaving Sophie and Ben was by far his greatest.

After a while Joseph found his voice again. "I'm sorry," He started, "I'm so sorry!"

"For what?" Sophie choked out between sobs.

"For everything." He murmured, his voice trembling, "For leaving you, for blaming you! I never- I never should have said the things I did. It wasn't, isn't your fault!" There was another bout of silence from the other end, as teeth clenched hard he let out a howl of anguish as he bore his soul. "It's was my fault, and that's why I had to lea-"

"Oh God, Joseph no-" Sophie cut in.

"Would you just listen to me?" He bellowed, striking the dash in frustration. He had to get it out, the man thought. She had no idea what he's been feeling, and what shame he'd been harboring, just in case, in case it was already too late to tell his son. "I blamed you, but it wasn't your fault. It was mine. I'm Ben's father, it's my job to protect him, to keep him safe, and I failed!" He declared, voice breaking, "I should have seen what was happening, I should have known!"

"Jose-"

"I should have known!" Joseph roared, rage flooding through his bloodstream as he struck that dash again and again with knuckles quickly bloodied. "And I should have killed that son-of-a-bitch when I had the chance! I should have killed him! I should have- I should have never stopped hitting him- Not even, not even to hold Ben! Oh fuck I should have just killed him!"

Unleashing his wrath upon the vehicle he kicked, hit, and struggled for several minutes, forgetting the phone for a moment, - his only connection to his wife - and fracturing it's screen in the melee. Panting Joseph doubled over only to find the car suddenly confining, a tumultuous claustrophobia overtaking him. Hastily exiting the car he began to pace back and forth along the roadside as he seethed and wailed to the heavens above about the injustice of it all.

"Joseph?" Sophie's voice was scarcely a whisper, one he barely heard over the pounding of his own heart.

"I should have known," He wept, "I should have known…And then, I just couldn't face him, not after I failed like that, after-after he'd been hurting so badly. I-I just couldn't and I ran away...I ran away!" The phrase hung heavy in the air with pointed damnation before he went on, crouched in the soil, head in his hands.

"Sophie, does Ben know it's not his fault?" He asked the heart-torn question, sputtering on the saline taste of tears and mucus, thick as it collected at the back of his throat. "He was just a little boy, I should have protected him... I should have known... Does-does he know I love him? Please God, please let him know I love him!" He sobbed lying back into the rut on the side of the road heedless of any passerbys.

Sick to his stomach, chest aching, eyes closed against the dwindling twilight, he listened with a dire need for Sophie to say something, anything.

Please, he thought, please, I just want to hold my little boy one more time.

-Punta Arenas, Costa Rica, Tuesday, 8:09pm CST-

Mouth covered with trembling fingers Sophie listened to her husband's lament, eyes squeezed shut against her tears. It hurt to actually hear Joseph blaming himself the way he did, even as she was guilty of the same crime. Though what pained her even more was the realization of how long she had hated him for leaving them behind, having thought that he found her at fault, even if she was. She had been the one to invite that monster into their home, if anyone was to be held accountable, it should have been her.

"Joseph," She said meekly. "Joseph, sweety I need you to do me a favor and take a deep breath. Listen to me, Ben loves you so much. He knows that you love him too. He might have been confused, and hurt in the beginning, but even if you never talked to him about it, I think he knows why you had to leave."

"I didn't- I didn't mean to just-" Her husband whispered.

"I know." Sophie nodded, pushing her own hurt aside, "I know. Where are you?"

"I-I'm pulled over, I was on my way back to the apartment when I heard the news." The man mumbled, his words striking the woman with a harrowing epiphany. How had she never noticed that he didn't call it "home," before now?

"Are you alright to drive?" Sophie gently questioned.

"Yeah, I think so," He confirmed.

"Then I need you to get off the phone, and go. I've got a lot that still needs to be done here." The woman explained, calm and controlled by sheer force of will. "I'll call you later."

"Alright," Joseph agreed.

Sophie moved to hang up, when he called to her abruptly by name. "Yes?"

"I love you."

Fresh tears threatening to be her undoing the woman's heart beat a little bit lighter. "I love you too." She replied, taking a moment after hanging up to steel herself before she stood and turned back towards the door beyond which the loosely cobbled together command center awaited.

-The Pacific Ocean, 550km South West of the Costa Rican Mainland, Tuesday, 8:36pm-

It all happened so fast. How anger and outrage could turn into fear and loss in an instant was beyond Roxie. She stood there dazed, time had stopped, the air in her lungs stolen away, the rampaging beat of her heart, pained and arrhythmic. The kids, she thought with worry disjointed to the problem at hand, they had to go back for the kids. She'd been screaming it at the top of her lungs when she was wrestled aboard the ship. Her hands still ached from striking at the brutes who had refused to let her go. Now, as she stared with frightened brown eyes, for a dreadful instant she couldn't even remember why she had been so upset, as sheer terror lanced through her.

"Dave?" She breathed, watching the lifeless figure lying crumpled at her feet, too scared to move, to touch him, to hurt him any more than he already was. "David?" tears running down her cheeks the woman fell to her knees turning the man over, watching with horror as his head rolled limply to the side.

Panic stricken, the normally well composed woman let out a scream that caught the attention of her fellow passengers who turned to gawk and stare at the scene playing out before them. "He's dead!" She wailed, hands flying briefly to her mouth. "You killed him, he's dead! He's dead!'' She repeated, pulling his weighty figure into her lap as she stared up with harsh accusation at the man who wielded the electric prod, earning murmurings from the crowd.

"He-he was being combative!" The man said in a defensive rush as he sensed the growing tensions around him. The park logo emblazoned on his shirt akin to a neon target when viewed by the ravaged, and destitute vacationers who now directed their attention towards him.

"I was being combative!" Roxie shrieked, "Me! He was trying to keep me from wringing your neck!"

"I-I didn't mean to, I didn't realize-"

"Those things were calibrated for dinosaurs you fucking moron! What did you think was going to happen?"

As she was yelling a man with thinning hair and a heavy limp from a freshly injured leg shoved his way through the onlookers. "I'm a firefighter." He murmured in terse explanation before pressing his fingers tight against Dave's throat, eyes closed in concentration as he focused on drowning out the rocking motion of the ship. "We got a pulse, but no respirations." He announced after a minute, pulling the ragdoll that was Dave roughly to the deck.

"Stop!" He commanded when Roxie, irrational with fear, tried to pull him back to her, "Look at me," The man commanded, his piercing gaze holding hers with a level of authority, "I'm going to begin chest compressions," He explained, getting to work as he spoke, "I need you to go to the cabin and find me an AED. This is a cruise ship, they should have at least one." Roxie nodded her vague understanding but made no move to get up.

"Hey!" The man snapped sharply, his voice strained with effort, his own breath coming in short bursts as he worked on Dave, a small, grim faced line of volunteers forming behind him to take shifts. "A-E-D, say it."

"AED." The woman repeated, struggling against her shock, trying but failing to turn away from her co-counselor, her friend.

"Good," The first responder nodded, "Now go get it."

Wheezing past the lump in her throat Roxie stood, quaking, before she was finally able to tear herself away. Wandering through the massive crowds of people, all color, all sound fading out around her she struggled with slow heavy limbs against a growing tide of despair. Apologies fervently and repeatedly whispered, as the frightened, dirty, hordes cramped so tightly together created a fluid barrier between her and the cabin, the woman marched on. Blood rushed to her head as she began to feel time slipping through her fingers. However Roxie was quick to resort to her elbows and shouting as she finally forced her way through the throng.

Once inside it took her only a moment to locate the large plastic box with a lighting crossed heart on the front. Ripping it from the wall she ignored the crewmen demanding answers of her as she dove back into the sea of bodies. Tripping and falling over people on her return, Roxie struggled, cursing and damning her fellow survivors until at last she found Dave where she'd left him, though the sight chilled the woman to her core. The life had completely drained from Dave's face leaving it pale white, his lips had gone blue, and his eyes, half open, stared glassy and devoid of light at the darkening night sky.

Seeing her gaping, needed equipment in hand, the first responder shouted for everyone to move. Suddenly a wide circle formed in the crowd as the man made quick work of shredding the downed counselor's shirt while the stoney faced woman pumping with great effort moved aside momentarily.

"Christ he's hairy." The man commented, yanking the AED from Roxie's hand as she watched numbly beside him. Then before she could even fully grasp the situation, the firefighter slapped a pair of adhesive pads onto Dave's chest and side before tearing them off again leaving red and angry, but hairless skin behind. Applying fresh pads he turned on the device which gave the bystanders orders before with a shrill beep as a final additional warning sent a pulse of electricity through Dave's body.

At the box's order, chest compressions resumed.

Please be alright Dave, please, Roxie prayed silently, looking up to the heavens, blinking hard against the blinding floodlights which illuminated the ship. Trying to shake herself free from the shock Roxie took her place to relieve a volunteer. Fingers interlocked it was a surreal feeling to be working on an actual person, let alone the harrowing reality of that person being her friend. Over and over, she pumped, unable to keep her gaze from trailing up to his face, to keep her mind from thinking the worst, to acknowledge the feeling of how quickly Dave's body was beginning to grow cold.

Tears raining down as she worked Roxie couldn't help but scream. "David don't you dare die on me!" She shouted, her arms feeling weak with grief, her efforts failing as she crumpled and gave into her mounting sorrow. "You can't leave me like this!"

There were hands on her in an instant, pushing and pulling her out of the way, voices shouting. Roxie fought to get back, clawing her way through the swarm of people until someone grabbed her by the back of the shirt, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "It's alright, it's alright, just let them work. I've got you. I've got you." The woman whispered softly, kneeling on the ground even as Roxie fought against her.

Contending with the other woman for only a minute Roxie felt herself sagging into the embrace. Latching onto the stranger Roxie let herself cry as she listened to the others fighting to save Dave behind her, the mechanized doctor ordering everyone to stand back as it released another jolt.

The kids, Roxie thought forlornly, they hadn't seen or heard from them, there was no sign that they had made it off the island safely. She'd failed. Failed to do her job, to protect them, to make sure they got out of there in one piece. It had been her idea to talk to Claire Dearing, her plan to leave them in the care of an intern, her arrogance that assured her that everything would be fine. She had lost sight of reality, shirked her responsibilities, and neglected her duties as caregiver and temporary guardian of the campers, and now for all she knew they were dead, and it was all her fault.

Languishing in the woman's sweat and lavender scented embrace, Roxie trembled with her mourning as the added weight of David's fight for life burdened the counselor's soul further. Still, the stranger clung steadfast, a hand smoothing through the frightened woman's hair and low, hopeful words whispered in a voice that sounded thin and frail with age. After what felt like an eternity wrapped in those safe comforting arms, Roxie heard a collective sigh of relief, and some weary laughter. Turning she saw people hugging, and high-fiving.

"We have life," The balding man announced, spotting, then waving Roxie over with a smile.

Scrambling on her hands and knees the head counselor made her way to Dave's side. His complexion slowly returning to him he took a shallow breath, eyes moving back and forth under their heavy lids. Awash with relief, and heart filled to the brim and ready to burst, Roxie began crying anew, this time with tears of joy as she lay her head on the man's chest. Listening to and treasuring the beat of his very tired, but very much still working heart Roxie clung to him as tightly as she could.

Several hands pat the jubilant woman on the back or shoulder as the rescuers made their way slowly and anonymously back to their own loved ones. Her body drooping after a while as the tension and anxiety of the day slowly ebbed out of her muscles Roxie found herself dozing off when with a loud, crinkling sound of a thin metallic sheet found its way to the pair. Glancing up with uncertainty the woman stared quizzically at the smartly dressed shipman, until she noticed that they were not alone in receiving this gift, as emergency blankets and water bottles began circulating through the crowds.

"Thank you," She whispered, her voice a hoarse croak.

Sitting up Roxie got to work tucking the man in all around, until proudly surveying her work the counselor couldn't help but smile. He looked like take-away, she thought. As she watched Dave began to rouse slightly, head turning from side to side, brows knitting as he moaned with discomfort, calling for his mother, before settling down again. Getting comfortable next to him Roxie soon found herself combing her fingers through his hair as she thought bitterly about the campers, hoping against all hope that they were aboard this, or another ship. It was as she was toying with his tacky, but signature headband that the man came round again.

"Feels like- hit by- bus-" Dave groaned, a hand shuffling without much coordination beneath the blanket before he went limp with unconsciousness.

Her heart bleeding, and gaze soft Roxie watched him with caring devotion for several minutes until a man carrying a toddler, a slightly older child clinging to his leg in terror made his way towards them. "Excuse me," He began with a sad smile, "I couldn't help but hear you earlier, before we left, ...the island... but, you have kids you were looking for?"

"Six," Roxie said, nodding before realizing the need to clarify, "Campers, actually, we're-we're their counselors. We got separated. I just- I-" Before she could form any more coherent words the woman found herself overwhelmed with tears.

The father placed his hand on Roxie's shoulder and offered another smile. "It's alright," He comforted, "I'll sit here with him, if you want to go look for them. No guarantees you'll find anyone, but you can try, right?"

Roxie's heart skipped a beat, she was torn between staying with Dave who clearly was far from out of the woods, and searching for the children. Dave needed her, but so did they. "Are you sure?" She asked, looking up at the man who slowly lowered himself to the ground.

"Yeah." The man nodded, pain clear on his face.

"Will you look for my momma too?" the little girl with tangled pigtails asked looking up at Roxie with a sad hopefulness.

The girl's father winced, lips pressed together in a firm line as he tried not to cry, turning to look at Roxie he slowly shook his head. "Go find your campers." He said busying himself with unfurling an emergency blanket of his own, ushering his little ones underneath it.

Nodding her accord, afraid to trust herself with much else, Roxie found her footing, wiped her face clean ,and took a deep breath. The urgency of her previous journey forgotten Roxie found herself looking at the haggard groups of evacuees with different eyes as she plodded through the crowds. Every face seemed aged by decades, dirt and blood clung to people as they started with wide vacant eyes as shock takes hold. Many evacuees clung to mangled and broken limbs, bleeding heads, or the unseen damages to their internal organs, stomachs clutched like school children desperately trying to get out of gym class.

Then, flies buzzing, there were the bodies. Dozens of them, people who had made it, people who should have been safe, but their injuries were just too great. Stepping over one such wretch, Roxie swallowed her pain, and approached a small group of people huddled together near the center of the deck.

"Excuse me," she began, startling the family who turned towards her. "Have you seen a girl with pink hair, a little black boy probably wearing a yellow jacket, a-another girl-" Roxie stopped struggling to go on, realizing that having left before most of the campers were even awake she had no idea what they were wearing, let alone if they had managed to stay together.

Eyelids fluttering as she battled against herself, she felt a hand on her own and looked up at the family. They all seemed to have the same lost expressions on their faces, but the woman who had reached out towards Roxie moved a little bundle of tinfoil towards her to see.

"We found him," she explained through a light German accent as she uncovered a sleeping little boy whose body was adorned in scratches and bruises. "Do you know him?" she asked. Roxie shook her head. "Do you know- Was hast du gesagt, er hat gesprochen?" she broke off turning to the man Roxie assumed was her husband.

"Vietnamesisch." the man muttered through a face battered a swollen, before closing his eyes and hunkering down.

The woman mouthed the word to herself before turning to Roxie again, "Vietnamese?"

Roxie shook her head, "No, sorry. Best of luck."

The woman found herself wandering once more, stopping to ask a group here or there, her voice mingling with those of dozens of others as they all called out for someone they loved. "Kenji!" Roxie shouted, picturing the cocky, disrespectful teen she found herself most at conflict with, wishing that she would spot his carefully maintained hair, or his gaudy red shoes, or heaven forbid heard another uncomfortable and unwanted compliment about her derriere. No such luck.

"Sammy!" She went on, ducking around a choked poolside, chairs covered with unclaimed children, their watchful guardians poised nearby. If the cowgirl was anywhere she'd be here, the counselor thought, looking at all the sad little faces of kids who couldn't doze no matter how exhausted they were, crying for parents who weren't there and cared for by strangers. Glancing about at the swarm of littles corralled together in that central location, she didn't see any sign of the girl.

Milling her way past them, her gaze falling upon her feet, the woman felt herself losing hope when a thought struck her. "Quick, how many teeth does an Allosaurus have?" She asked loudly with a tearful smirk. If ever she was unsure of Darius' location on one field trip or another there was one simple, sure-fire solution: ask a dino question and from somewhere the answer would be shouted. Looking around she saw only hatefulness and scorn cast towards her the accusing faces of people who just didn't understand.

Unsure of where to even begin looking for Ben, the woman peering under every staircase, in every nook and cranny. She was half convinced that she would find him, as ever she did holed up somewhere with a book ignoring the unpredictable world around him for the safe, controlled dangers of literature. It was as she did that she caught sight of a flash of pink. Rushing through bodies she practically ran to the head of cotton candy tresses, grabbing them by the shoulder with a relieved, "Brooklynn!"

The young person who turned to stare back at her with nervousness in their eyes, pulled out of her grip and stepped back. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" Roxie apologized, her voice quavering as her optimistic faith was shaken to its foundation. She had been so sure. "I thought you were-"

"No, it's alright." They nodded, understanding the situation in an instant, pulling Roxie into a hug. "I hope you find who you're looking for."

Roxie nodded. Shuffling about like a zombie, her gaze downcast the woman tried to pick out running shoes, if anyone could beat the clock it would have been Yasmina. Through her tears, the reality that none of them - not one of them - had made it safely aboard the ship weighed heavily upon her soul. For over an hour, she kept it up, refusing to let hope die until she was certain, at last, she gave in and trudged her way to the rear of the boat where her newfound friend was waiting, a water bottle held out for her to take.

"Anything?" He asked in a whisper, his girls sleeping restlessly.

"No." Roxie said, relishing the cold clear taste of the water as it soothed her dry, aching throat that couldn't get enough.

Leaning slightly, the man gave her a side hug. "I'm so sorry," He apologized, the earnesty in his voice conveying the true sincerity with which he spoke.

"What about you?" Roxie asked after a minute, wrapped up in her own loss and fear, she hadn't given much thought to anyone else. "I'll watch your kids while you go look for your wife." she offered scooting closer and reaching towards the girls, hating herself for not considering this sooner.

"No," He said meekly, still fighting himself, "It's ok, they're young enough that they should forget... I just hope one day they can forgive me, because God knows I'll never forgive myself... but uh-" The man paused, swallowing hard as he began to tremble, "Electric wheelchairs can only go so fast, and I- uh- I had to protect our girls- so..."

Roxie felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle, her stomach in fiendish knots. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to have to make a decision like that. Sorry didn't quite cover what she wanted to express to the man, yet no other words seemed right either. Instead she touched his arm and left it at that.

"He uh, he was looking for you, I think." He said after a bit, nodding towards Dave. "He wasn't awake long, but, he wanted a 'Roxie?'"

"That's me." The woman nodded, extending her hand to shake. "Roxanne."

"AJ." The kind father replied. They shook, and while Roxie continued to relish her water he settled back and tried to rest with his girls as his tears finally came to life.

Left alone with her thoughts, and not even a single star to be seen as light pollution drowned them all out, Roxie stared hard at the dark spot on the horizon where she knew the island resided. They were still there, she thought broodingly. With no way to know for sure, and only her gut instincts to guide her, the woman felt grimly certain of this even as determination built to check every docking ship bow to stern. It was as she gave into her melancholic thoughts, of what terrible deaths her young wards might have suffered, or what heart-rending choices they might have been forced to make that Dave began to stir.

His eyes - blurry and unfocused - moved about sluggishly before alighting on Roxie's face. "Roo." He sighed with a palpable relief, "Kids?" He groaned, trying his best to stay awake.

"No." Roxie whispered, running her fingers through his hair again, "They're not here."

Watching as tears began to stream down the man's face, Roxie wished that she had more comforting news to give her white knight who had stepped in the way, intervening in what very well could have been a fatal assault. Dave shivered after a minute, his teeth clattering together noisily. "Cold." He muttered helplessly.

With this at least, Roxie felt as though she could help. Lifting the noisy blanket the woman slid underneath what she felt was already a surprisingly warm sheet. Nestling her head into Dave's shoulder, an arm draped gently over his body, still connected to the electric probs. "Better?" she asked.

"Ow." Dave muttered going rigid with discomfort. "Feel like-"

"You were hit by a bus?" She offered with a grin.

"Yeah." He wheezed trying to force himself to relax.

"They're going to be alright." Dave said after a minute, catching Roxie who was trying to be quiet as she cried by surprise.

"How do you know?" She asked doubtfully.

"Because," Dave replied simply, "They have each other."

Roxie weighed this concept in her mind for several minutes, before finding hope within the words. "You're right," She croaked, "They do have each other."

Lying together the counselors were just two among thousands, crying out their loss, but in their sorrow there was also promise, and that faith was a lot more than what others had left to them. It was that tenuous thread that they clung to, as tightly as they held one another.