Page 30 of Cabin Fever

“Hey. HEY!” we hear behind us, and both spin to see Theo stumbling back from the table. Finn looks like he’s in a standoff, and as Dahlia and I run up to see what’s going on, I realize that’s not far from the truth.

The single most self-possessed animal I’ve ever seen stands on the picnic table. It looks like a raccoon, but smaller and insultingly cute. And it has Theo's dry bag in its jaws.

The dry bag containing his phone, wallet, and the key to the orange Jeep.

“Pygmy raccoon,” Theo says, in a strangled voice. “They're endemic. Critically endangered. There's maybe three hundred of⁠—”

“I don't care about his conservation status, Theo,” Dahlia shouts. “He has the car key!”

The raccoon, unhurried, backs toward the scrub line with the bag. Finn tries the slow approach, grabbing whatever leftover food he can find, holding it out. I swear, the animal looks at him with something like boredom before it turns and disappears into the jungle.

Finn crashes in after it and comes back with scratches, leaves in his hair, and no bag.

“Okay.” Dahlia spins in a slow circle. “So the raccoon has our key.”

“And my phone,” Theo adds.

“Less important right now, babe.”

“Maybe Dad’s raccoon story wasn’t so exaggerated after all,” I murmur, and Dahlia shoots me a look.

I jog back to our towels and pull out my phone. 3:12. All aboard is 5 o’clock. We’re fifty-one minutes away with a Jeep that is now a sculpture on the empty side of an island. And my phone says NO SERVICE.

The next twenty minutes are straight from a movie. Theo and Dahlia jog north up the road to flag anything with wheels. The woman at the food stand lets Finn use her landline to call who we think might be her cousin, but since we don’t have a translation app, he has to try and make do with whatever he remembers from high school Spanish.

I search every inch of the Jeep to see if there’s a spare key stashed somewhere. I’m completely defeated when Finn walks back over.

“Do you know how to hotwire?” I call to him.

“Yeah, thanks for asking. Didn’t want to offer prematurely.”

I turn and lean against the door. “What are we going to do?”

He looks up and down the dirt road. No sign of Dahlia and Theo. “Well. We’re either going find our way back to town and get a hotel, or we’ll be hunting down the trafficking ring that took your sister and my best friend.”

Chapter Eleven

Somehow, Finn properly communicated our location and predicament to whoever he talked with on the landline, and the three of us are now sitting in the back of a very unsafe pickup truck. We gave Dahlia shotgun because, bride.

“Miguel's truck has a chicken crate bungee-corded to the hood, Harper. It does not do the speed limit,” Theo says.

I scoff. “I’m just saying, there’s technically still time.”

Finn stifles a smile and looks in the opposite direction. Theo’s about to have a meltdown, and neither of us wants him to know how funny Finn finds it.

Theo runs a hand through his hair. “The bachelor and bachelorette parties are tomorrow. If we don’t make it back . . .” He mutters something under his breath.

I want to say that missing two parties would have done a lot less damage to the wedding than his stupid pride, but hold my tongue. Mostly because I don’t want to get chicken poop in my mouth.

At 4:42, we’re just down the street, but the traffic is gridlocked. Miguel looks back and shrugs. The universal sign for a man who’s done all he can do.

So Finn hands him cash, and we bail. Then we’re four sunburned adults pounding down a cruise-port sidewalk. Dahlia loses a sandal and hops to retrieve it. Finn grabs my hand, pulling me so fast, I think I might faceplant on the concrete.

We make it by ninety seconds, arriving at the top of the gangway soaked in sweat, sunscreen, and ocean salt.

Dahlia hugs me at the elevator bank, fierce and sudden. “Best day since, I don't even know.”

And that’s Dahlia for you. Half an hour ago we were bouncing around in a chicken truck not knowing whether we’d make it back to our ship, and all she remembers is the beach, the adventure, and the tacos.