My stomach growls, but the thought of food has bile rising up my throat. Bob didn't make it back. Sierra killed herself. And all the other dead passengers are piled carelessly in the sand, a heap of limbs covered by nothing more than scrap metal torn from the plane.

"I have been speaking with Tom for the past hour or so," Jason says, his much too calm voice cutting through my thoughts. "He's filled me in on what he and his team found when they hiked across the island. Obviously, ...