Newt stood on the beach, arms spread out and pants rolled up to his knees as his eyes gazed out over the blue water. The salty air whipped his hair around and he sank further beneath the sand as the waves crashed onto the shore and swept over his feet.

Annie lounged nearby, eyes closed and face pointed up toward the sun. It warmed her skin, making her feel relaxed and refreshed, like a reset for her mind and body. She recalled Newt telling her they weren't going on a holiday to the sea, but this felt the closest to a holiday she had had in a long while.

"Fancy a swim?" He called out to her.

She opened one of her eyes. "Bad idea. Salt water and open wounds don't mix."

"Oh, right." He looked disappointed for a moment, then brightened. "Well, I'll just look at it then. It's still beautiful. Really shucking beautiful."

He turned back around and continued to watch the waves roll in and out. Somewhere out there, in the middle of the deep blue, were his friends. Frypan. Minho. Tommy. His heart pinged with excitement.

"You better watch out, Newt," Annie warned from behind him. "You look like you burn easy."

He tilted his head back and smiled. "Don't care."

She laughed. She suddenly felt a lightness within her, pleased at his easy-going attitude. If circumstances had been different, she suspected they might have even had an enjoyable day at the beach in each other's company.

"Want to walk to the port?" He asked as he walked over and shook his feet to release the wet sand.

She leaned back and rested her arms behind her head. "Oh, another five minutes."

He sat down next to her and stretched his legs out. He ran his hands through the warm sand, letting it fall through his fingers. He had never given much thought to beaches, but in a few days he would call one his home. He leaned back, smiling, and closed his eyes.

Five minutes turned into an hour, and after a short nap the two of them stood up, dusted off their clothes, and walked back up to the road.

The port was only a couple miles away, and in their excitement to get there and look for a boat, the journey went by quickly. Away from the ocean breeze the sun felt hot, and Annie pulled her hair up into a ponytail while Newt wiped sweat off his face with his sleeve.

The port itself was small. It wasn't attached to a city, but had a few abandoned stands nearby where people could rent water crafts or purchase swimwear. They passed a boarded up shaved ice trolley as they walked down the wooden boardwalk. The area looked like at one point it might have been able to house fifty boats, but now it was almost empty.

Still, there were a few harbored boats, mostly small and wind-powered. One speedboat was tied up, but it was rusted through and looked like it might sink any day. Near the end of the docks was a trawler in much better condition, and a few spots down from it buoyed a sleek white eighty-footer.

The large boat was named The Marilla, and it looked as if it had been taken out to sea recently. Fishing poles were still erected in their stands, and music drifted down to them from the deck. Newt moved in front of Annie, approaching the boat slowly as she followed behind.

"Ahoy!" Someone called out.

They both jumped.

A man appeared at the railing of the boat on the port side. He wore all white, except for a navy blue blazer and a sailor's cap with a gold emblem on it. A cigar hung out of his mouth, and he swirled a fancy-looking glass in his hand that contained a dark liquid.

"Uh, hello?" Newt responded.

"Welcome, weary travelers," the man said, "to The Marilla. Best ship on the seven seas though she's only been on one. I am Captain Monty. Who might you be?"

Newt looked back at Annie, tilting his head and questioning her with his eyes. Her mouth parted, dumbfounded, and she shrugged in response.

He turned back to the man. "I'm Newt, she's Annie."

"Pleasure to meet you, Newt and Annie!" He leaned forward on the railing, eyeing the cut on Newt's forehead and Annie's disheveled appearance. "You two kids look like you have a story to tell. Now, it just so happens I am a lover and purveyor of stories. You may have heard of me, Clark Montgomery?"

They both shook their heads.

"Sorry, no." Newt said.

His lopsided smile widened. "Oh no matter, my star burned before your time, surely. I was in the pictures kids, in the city of angels! At least, before the blasted solar flares hit, and all went to hell. Luckily, I'm immune to its ill-effects although most of my beloved city wasn't. I was forced out, you see. A regular witch hunt, except the witches were doing the hunting, if you catch my drift. Now I live with my Marilla."

"Your boat?" Newt asked.

"My wife!"

He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. A moment later a woman appeared, tall and tanned with flowing brown hair. She wore a sheer black kaftan that showed off her hourglass figure. Annie noticed Newt blush as he looked at her.

"Marilla, this is Newt and Miss Annie."

"How do you do," she said, with a voice like velvet.

"Snookums, they were just telling me their story – wait, no, we didn't get to that part yet, I got ahead of myself. Kids – tell me your story now, I want to know everything."

"We uh … uh …" Newt stammered.

"We're from Denver," Annie spoke up.

"Denver?" The corner of Clark's eyes creased with interest. "So far away from home! What are you doing all the way down here?"

Annie looked at Newt, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod to go on.

"Our city was overtaken, just like yours," she explained. "We had to leave. We came to the coast to find a boat."

Clark chewed on his cigar. "Is that right? Well, that does seem to be a familiar tale for many people. Tell me more. What did you do in Denver?

"I worked in medicine, a nurse basically, and Newt … he uh …" She paused. She wasn't sure how much to tell these strangers. But Clark was leaning forward with such rapt attention he looked like he might fall off the boat and into the water.

"Newt was injured," she continued. "I found him and took care of him. His friends left the country, looking for a safe place – a place for immunes, like us."

Clark's eyes brightened, and he leaned forward even further.

"We've been traveling together ever since," she said. "That's what we need the boat for; they're on an island in the Pacific."

He tapped his cigar on the railing, and the grey ash fell into the water below as he smiled in a self-satisfied way.

"Well, it must be your lucky day kids. Because it just so happens that Captain Monty has a boat you can use for your little ocean adventure. Free of charge."

Newt perked up. "You do?"

He nodded. "I do indeed. Problem is, I haven't been able to get the blasted thing started since we arrived. But -," he eyed Newt up and down and nodded satisfactorily. "With the help of this strapping young lad, I expect we can figure out what the problem is and get you two kids shipped out of here in a few days."

"That's generous and all but …" Newt looked at Annie and then back at the strange man. "Why exactly do you want to help us?"

"Because like I said, I love a good story Newt. Damn it, I really do. And your story has it all – drama, intrigue, danger – dare I say a little romance?" He looked between the two of them expectantly. They took a step away from each other, and Annie tugged awkwardly on the straps of her backpack.

"Very well then." He smiled knowingly. "All that's missing is a Good Samaritan to help you get over this pivotal moment, sort of a third act Deus ex machina if you will. You can stay with me and Marilla if you like. We have extra rooms and never turn away interesting company, and you two do seem quite interesting. Besides, nearest city is overrun with those blasted beasts; won't do you any good to stay there. What do you say?"

Newt turned to Annie.

"What do you think?" He asked quietly.

"It's up to you. They're no Frank and Mary but they seem harmless enough and he wants to give us a boat. If there's no city to go to, I'd rather stay here than in the bone cave again."

His brow furrowed but he nodded. "All right."

Newt turned to Clark. "All right," he said again, louder. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Permission granted! Let me lower the ramp and you two kids can get yourselves situated."

A few minutes later a metal ramp stretched from the boat to the dock, and Newt and Annie walked up it and onto the deck.

"Welcome aboard!" Clark said as he enthusiastically shook their hands. "Make yourselves at home. The Marilla only has one rule – once you're on her, there are no rules." He winked and laughed jovially.

"Come darlings," Marilla said, waving the pair over with a well-manicured hand. "I'll give you the tour."

The boat was even larger than it appeared from the outside. Marilla sashayed her way around as she moved from room to room, showing them the amenities with mild disinterest as their eyes grew wider and wider. Besides the crew quarters, it housed a large galley with a fully stocked wet bar, a sunning area on the bow, a formal dining room, and a lounge with a television, record player, and oversized leather sectional.

She paused at the top of a flight of stairs. "Let me show you to your quarters darlings."

She went down, and Newt and Annie followed. Below deck were two extra cabins and a large bathroom, stocked with all the toiletries they could ever want.

"Come up to the deck when you're done unpacking. We'll have wine." She turned and walked back down the hallway.

"So, which room do you prefer?" Annie asked, peering through the doors.

He didn't respond. She looked at him and saw he was watching Marilla climb the stairs. She snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Newt?"

"What? Oh, sorry."

"I asked which room you prefer – left or right?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I'll take right."

"Okay. Come to my room when you're done and we'll go up together."

They parted ways. Annie entered her room and immediately froze. They had decorated it in an old Hollywood theme, with rich, luxurious fabrics draping the bed and framing the windows. Golden statues rested in glass cases on the shelves, and she examined each one before reaching a vintage vanity. Its mirror was ringed with large light bulbs, and the table had a plush white chair pushed underneath.

She picked up a medium-sized silver frame, holding a black-and-white photograph of Marilla. She was smiling and smoking a cigarette, looking at someone off camera. Annie set it down and unpacked, folding her clothes neatly and stacking them on the chair. She hung Newt's jacket off the back and then picked up a soft boar bristle brush sitting on a silver tray on the table. She loosened her ponytail when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in."

She saw the door open in the mirror and Newt poke his head in.

He gave a low whistle. "This is nice."

"Simply divine, darling," she teased, imitating Marilla. She ran the brush through her hair while Newt crossed the room behind her, settling on the edge of the bed.

He let out a noise of surprise as he suddenly tilted backward.

"Whoa!" He rolled toward the center of the bed, laughing. "What's going on?"

She put the hairbrush back on the table and came over. She plopped down, causing Newt to bounce up and down in the middle.

She laughed at his naivety. "It's a waterbed."

"What? That's a thing?"

She nodded and bounced a few more times, making him laugh. "You didn't have waterbeds in the maze?" She asked facetiously.

"We didn't even have beds. Us shanks slept in hammocks or sleeping bags."

"Well, looks like you chose the wrong room then."

He turned to his side and rested his head in his hand. "I'll swap you. Mine has pillows shaped like tiny boats."

"Fat chance." She leaned back and rested her head on a velvet pillow. "Looks like the Montgomery's are pretty famous." She pointed at the awards lining the walls.

"Yeah, they're also bloody weird."

"Well, you won't find any argument there. But, it's only for a few days. Clark will help you with the boat, and then we can get out of here. He seems nice enough, though a bit heavy on the drinks."

"A bit?" He cocked his brow at her. "Understatement Williams."

A knock sounded on the door again and they both sat up.

"Everyone decent?"

It was Clark. He entered and smiled at the pair.

"Ah, I see you're trying out the waterbed." He laughed. "Boy, do I have memories of … er, nevermind."

He looked at Newt. "I can take you to the boat now, if you'd like. Annie, Marilla is pouring drinks up top."

"Good that." Newt rolled to the edge of the bed and stood up. He turned around and reached out for Annie, helping her off the moving platform.

Annie went to the galley while Newt walked down the ramp with Clark. The vessel he had offered them was the trawler next to The Marilla. Its name was The Timmy Too, and Newt preferred it. It didn't have all the bells and whistles of The Marilla, but it was more his style.

"As you can see, she looks good, but the motor won't start and I can't figure out why," Clark explained as they stood aboard it. "It's too late to work on it now but we can come down here in the morning and really take a look at it."

"I reckon we'll be able to fix it up quick," Newt said as he looked it over. "Good thing; I'm anxious to see my friends again."

Clark looked at Newt with interest. "So what happened then, Newt? Why are your friends out there and you're here?"

Newt ran his hand through his hair. He didn't really want to relive the events with this man, but felt he owed it to him, regardless.

"I ran into some trouble and they had to go on without me," he said. "It wasn't their fault, but they're my mates; I have to find them." He looked out over the open water wistfully. "They don't even know I'm coming."

"Riveting," Clark said with awe. "No man is an island, you know; what a tearful reunion that will be. Boy, am I glad I ran into you two."

He patted Newt on the back and they climbed off the boat and walked down the dock to The Marilla.

Back aboard, Marilla and Annie were sitting around a table covered with a white cloth that blew lazily in the ocean breeze. They must have just missed Marilla saying something funny because Annie tipped her head back in laughter and then took another sip of wine. Marilla smiled coyly and swirled her glass.

"Come join us darling," she said as she patted the seat next to her.

"What do you say Newt – want to join the ladies?"

"Sure."

"Good chap. I'll ring for Luann. Have a seat."

Clark pushed a button and somewhere in the boat an alarm buzzed. A moment later a girl appeared, not much older than Newt and Annie.

"Luann, get me and Newt a whiskey on the rocks – from my private collection, none of that bottom shelf piss water."

She eyed the newcomers curiously but spoke only to Clark. "Yes, sir."

Newt looked at their host with surprise as Luann walked away. "There's other people here?" He asked.

"Just Luann," he said. "A good Captain always has a crew, no matter how small. Keeps things running smoothly. Luann's father was my AD – that's assistant director for you Denver folk. We go way back. In fact, the first time I met her -,"

"Enough talk about the help darling," Marilla interrupted. "No one cares, and it's terribly gauche."

"Right you are honey bun," Clark said, patting the back of her hand.

He turned to Annie and rested his chin in his hand.

"So, Miss Annie, you said you worked in the medical field?"

"Yes, I did."

"You look awfully young. How old are you?"

"Darling, a lady never tells her age," Marilla scolded.

"It's all right. I turned nineteen in April."

"Wow. I know the younger generations are quite bright, but isn't that a bit young to be working in medicine?"

"I uh …" She looked down at her glass. "I worked for a special corporation. They weren't opposed to bending the rules, at times."

He pulled a fresh cigar out of his pocket. "Would I have heard of it?"

"Probably," she said as he clipped the end off. "WICKED?"

He dropped the cigar on the table and stared at her. "You worked for WICKED?"

She glanced at Newt, hoping she wasn't sharing too much."Yes?"

"Well I'll be damned!" He slammed his hand down on the table. "Before I left Hollywood, I was working on a movie about WICKED. It was going to be my pièce de résistance. Had it all lined up – script was written, locations were scouted, the works."

"I was going to play Chancellor Ava Paige," Marilla said, taking a sip of her wine.

Newt's drink caught in his throat and he coughed, glancing at Annie with wide eyes.

"So what happened?" Annie asked, ignoring him.

"We got shut down. They must have heard what I was doing because suddenly the funding fell through and all the copies of my script disappeared. So there I was, last film to my name being 'Baby Takes a Holiday' - a studio cash grab that makes a mockery of my entire resume, blasted piece of trash …" He cleared his throat. "Anyway. It's not like I was going to paint them in a bad light, I just thought the whole ordeal was fascinating. We'd had films about the flares, but none about the company trying to sort the whole thing out."

"Yeah, they uh, they never liked people prying into their business." Annie said.

Clark turned to Newt. "So then did you work for WICKED too?"

"Um …" He tapped his fingers on his glass. "In a way."

"Well, isn't this just kismet, plain and simple?" Clark picked up the wine bottle and topped off Annie and Marilla's glasses. "This is a real honor. Sure, I have my professional issues with them, but what WICKED did for this country, looking for a cure when all hope was lost … it's just spectacular. Heaven knows I'm a sympathetic man, but the less of those … things, out there, the better."

"Have you ever run into one of them out here?" Newt asked.

"A few times. That's what my telescope is for. Not just for star gazing, no, sir. I watch through it, and if I see one coming toward the port – bam! – I take care of it before it gets here. Disgusting creatures."

Newt raised his eyebrows over his glass but said nothing.

Marilla coughed and everyone turned to look at her.

"Enough talk about that darling, you know how it raises your blood pressure," she chided.

"Sorry cookie."

"Newt," she said, changing the subject. "Your accent is just divine. Tell me, where were you born – London? Cambridge?" She stroked the edge of her wine glass as she gazed at him.

"London, yeah."

She tapped her chin with her long fingers. "I did some theatre in London, a long time ago. Perhaps you saw me sometime – I played the ineffable Lady Macbeth."

"No, I never was able to make it to the theatre much." He glanced at Annie, who hid a smile behind her glass.

"Pity," she said. "The London Times wrote that I was a revelation. A 'convincing display of the descent into madness – taut and rife with passion' it said."

Luann reappeared and set two glasses down on the table. Clark picked his up, and clinked it against Newt's.

"Cheers. To our new friends. May we soon become like old friends."

Newt smiled and picked his glass up, tipping it back to his mouth. He almost coughed, but managed to choke down the liquid. It burned as it traveled and spread a pleasant warmth throughout him as it finally settled in the pit of his stomach. He took another sip, which went down much easier.

They continued to drink their expensive libations and avoid talk of the flares until they felt warm and relaxed. Newt only understood about half the conversation going on around him, but Annie seemed to be enjoying herself, and that put him more at ease. He tuned them out, thinking about what he was going to do first on the island once they arrived. After awhile Marilla stood up and held out her hand to Clark.

"Let's retire darling, I really am quite sleepy."

Clark stood up and threw his napkin on the table. "It's been a pleasure," he said to his guests.

He gave Newt a firm handshake and Annie a kiss on the back of her hand and then waved his hand over the table.

"Don't clean up, Luann will take care of everything. Newt, we can go back to the boat after breakfast. Caviar and mimosas at nine. Goodnight you two." He gave them a wink and then strode off the deck with Marilla, hand-in-hand.

Once they left, Annie relaxed in her seat and swirled the wine around in her glass. She peered at Newt, wondering what he was thinking. He had gone silent awhile back, only nodding occasionally to acknowledge that he was still listening.

"You all right?" She asked.

"That was, uh, interesting," he said after a minute. "All that talk, about WICKED and the flare. Think he saw me coming through his telescope?"

She set her glass down and leaned forward, stretching her hands across the table. "Don't worry about it Newt. We'll be out of here in a few days and they'll be none the wiser. Besides, you've been fine, and they're immune anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"I suppose …" He swallowed the last of his drink and sat back. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a golden glow on his pale face. "Do you want to go to bed?" He asked.

"Not yet. You go on without me. I'm going to stay up a little longer."

"All right. Come get me if you need anything." He reached out and squeezed her hands before standing up, then headed toward the stairs.

Annie poured another small glass of wine and stood up from the table. She was tired, but she also wanted to look through this famous telescope of Clark's. Ever since she was a young girl, she had been fascinated by stars. Probably because she spent most of her time holed up in WICKED's headquarters with limited access to the outdoor world. Books had been her best friends in those days, but there was a difference between reading about something and seeing it with your own eyes.

It stood nearby, shining in the night. She lowered one eye to the lens and closed the other. It was pointed at the road leading up to the docks, and she adjusted it until it focused on the constellations above.

The stars were coming out, and the cool breeze felt wonderful on her wine-flushed cheeks. She closed both eyes for a moment, relishing the way it felt to be in the lap of luxury once more. She felt like her old self again, and for a moment the world melted away and she was back in her apartment, standing on the balcony and looking up at the beautiful Denver sky.

But that was gone. Even if she felt like her old self, she could never go back to that life again. Her stomach dropped at this realization. So much had changed just over the span of a few days. Her thoughts turned to Newt, who was anxiously waiting to leave this place and reunite with his friends. A wave of guilt came over her; he had been forced to give up so much more than she ever would. She pushed the telescope away and turned around.

"Oh!"

Luann was standing near the table, cleaning up their glasses.

"Don't mind me," she said. "You can keep looking if you want."

"No, it's all right, I'm done." She stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking at the girl. "Uh, do you need any help?"

"I've got it."

"All right. I'm, uh, going to bed then." She walked toward the stairs and then paused.

"Luann, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said as she emptied Clark's ashtray into a waste bin.

"Are Clark and Marilla ... are they okay people?"

She turned and looked at Annie. "How do you mean? Okay how?"

"Like, are they trustworthy?"

"I've known the Montgomery's since Hollywood," Luann said matter-of-factly. "Always kept my father employed, always treated me fairly. I have no ill to speak about them if that's what you mean. Sure, sometimes Mr. Montgomery is in the cups and Miss Marilla tends to watch herself in the mirror a bit too long. But when they left town a couple months ago, when everyone - including my own father - got sick, we came to this boat together. I'm grateful for those two, and I'd do anything for them. So, no, to answer your question - I have nothing ill to speak about them."

"Okay, sorry," Annie said, sensing her clear agitation at even being asked. "It's just been a … long journey, you know? We have a lot riding on their hospitality and I don't want to screw it up for my friend."

"Your friend will be fine," she said. "You get to bed now."

"Okay. Goodnight Luann."

"'Night."

Annie walked toward the staircase and disappeared below deck. Luann cleared the rest of the dishes, and then folded the white tablecloth into a neat square, holding it up to her stomach. She looked up at the stars and sighed.

Below deck Newt lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt exhausted, but also restless. He thought perhaps the whiskey had an adverse effect on him; more likely it was everything Clark had said about cranks – about him – that was getting to him.

He knew it still lingered below the surface, but being reminded of it stung. He thought about what Annie had said, about how he'd been fine so far and it didn't really matter. But it did matter; it was a part of him whether he thought about it or not. He turned over, stuffing the pillow against his face.

He wondered for a moment what Annie was doing. If she was having trouble sleeping too. If so, maybe they could hang out in his room together for a bit, talk some more about Clark and Marilla, maybe sneak some whiskey from the Montgomery's collection. He liked the way it made him feel, sort of bold and reckless. It was the way he used to feel, in those first few months in the maze. That damned maze.

He heard the floor creak outside, and a knock came softly at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened slowly and his heart sank as he saw a head of brown hair came through.

"Marilla!" He pulled the sheets up over his bare chest.

"Just checking that you have everything you need."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, good." She entered the room further and began to run her fingers over his belongings. "Because if there's anything you need … anything … I'm just one floor up."

"Good that." His voice cracked.

"Well …" she gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I won't keep you. Sleep tight, darling. Don't let the monsters bite." She winked and then turned around and slinked out, closing the door gently behind her.

Once she was far enough down the hallway, he jumped up and locked his door. He laid back down, trying to rationalize her visit. Maybe she was just being friendly. Maybe she had had a little too much wine and was feeling restless too. He thought of Annie next door, and hoped she hadn't heard Marilla in his room. He suddenly shook his head – why did that matter?

He turned over, stuffing the pillow into a tight ball again, and squeezed his eyes shut. The gentle rocking of the boat slowly lured him out of reality and he drifted asleep, his last conscious thought being of the ocean, the beach, and his friend's familiar faces.