After one boy seemingly recoiled from Noelle, which did not exactly help her ongoing attempt to keep it together, a fellow glasses-wearer stepped up to answer. Penny gave an explanation for the rather unpleasant condition of Jessica before asking if she'd seen a little girl yet. “No, not yet,” Noelle replied with an edge of frustration, thinking of Lucy and not whoever Penny was talking about. “Or, um, a sword.” She glanced between the other kids, starting with Aurora who was talking to herself about being stuck in a swimsuit. A sudden spike of self-consciousness hit Noelle as, for the first time, she realized she'd been thrust into a crisis in a black one-piece and flower-patterned purple sarong. Instinctively her eyes flitted to Jude, who appeared to be purposefully trying to avoid looking at her for perhaps understandable reasons, and Haywood, who managed to look away just in the nick of time.

Jessica, however, provided a distraction by launching into another session of over-enunciation, beginning with a comment directed toward Penny. If one thing was obvious, Noelle thought, it was that these kids didn't know anything more about their collective situation than she did. Probably less, in fact. It'd been a foolish hope that one of them might have answers, but part of her had hoped nonetheless. Answers would have to wait, but that was fine; knowledge came secondary to the safety of her children. As she took a direct insult Noelle's face turned to a sort of resigned, suppressed unhappiness, the kind of 'why do I have to put up with this crap' expression that came included in teachers' training manuals. “W-well!” she said, still trying to sound upbeat and composed despite realizing she'd wasted time that could have been spent searching. However, her voice was strained to a higher pitch. “It sounds like we all have children to find! So, please keep an eye out.” She paused for a brief moment. “If any of you see a little boy or girl with dark hair that turns orange toward the end...um...let me know!”

Still trying to keep smiling, Noelle waved before turning to head back to the others. Not far away, where a stream flowed down from the jungle to form a furrow in the beach, a new figure emerged from the underbrush. He must have been around fifty, a stocky, hairy man with a neat, businesslike cut in the process of going gray from black. Over a white wifebeater he wore an unbuttoned sea-green Hawaiian shirt with a starfish pattern, and he wore a pair of black slacks, making him look like someone who'd been spending most of his vacation in a bar. A whole heap of jewelry and ornamentation hung off him, including an expensive-looking watch, two bracelets, three necklaces, and a piercing in his left ear. Behind him followed a panicky, mousy-looking woman with stringy blue hair, one of the potbellied dads who'd joined the volleyball game, and two teenagers that provoked a reaction from Haywood the moment he saw them.

“Liv! Milo! Hey!”

The youths ran for one another, coming to an awkward stop a few feet away. Liv, a hefty ginger with a seriously pissed-looking resting face, and Milo, a tall, stick-thin beanpole of a guy with big green eyes that seemed to be wide all the time—the buds he'd mentioned to Jessica as fellow Banzai Blasters. Together the three made an odd trio, but they looked happy to see one another again.

“Hey, you guys good?”

“Yeah, 'xcept I bruised my ass on this rock.”

“A frog jumped on my face after I got dumped in the river!”

Haywood glanced at the other group. He noticed that the bald-headed father was carrying little Maggy, the girl who'd been subjected to a sandcastle-based rollercoaster of emotion before everything went nuts. “Oh hey, that's one problem solved.”

“'Scuse me,” speaking officiously, the decorated man held up his hands to get the attention of both groups on the beach. “Hello, hi, how are ya. The name's Lou. I'm takin' charge of the situation.” He crossed his arms. “Until further notice, we're at groun' zero of a heinous terrorist attack, and we don't know who did it. Whoever it is could stab us in the backs any moment, so I ain't takin' any chances. If ya know what's good for youse, you'll stick with us 'til we figure it out. Capiche?”

He glared at the beach parties expectantly.