Intent on searching for answers they would never find, the humans had grown rather boring. Yes, the island mused, it was time for some fun. After all, it was noon. It was the best hour to bleed. * * * Paulo glanced at Carmen. She smiled, feigning politeness, but before her bland mask slipped into place, he glimpsed the hate on her face. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t care for her much either. She played the part of a team player, but not well. Paulo didn’t understand why she bothered to pretend at all. People only pretended when they had something to hide. He watched her, carefully, waiting for a slip. The air stilled, as if the very breeze itself had been inhaled. Rives noticed the lull at the same moment Paulo did. “Gate at one o’clock,” Rives said abruptly. “Mid-beach.” Paulo spun to look. Above the sand, a gate stretched to its full height and locked into place, then an eerie, utterly still moment passed before it began to roll. The wild gates still unsettled Paulo; thinner than the solstice gate, the wild gates writhed and glittered and moved, shifting as if they were alive, like heat-seeking missiles.
