CHAPTER IV: BUNKER PORT
I get up and go down to the hostel restaurant to have some breakfast. From the stairs I can hear the hustle and bustle that has formed in the bar. This is frustrating, after last night, I feel sorry for having to endure another hustle and bustle. The restaurant is full and I look around the crowd for a place. I see Monica, who is sitting alone, so I go over to her table and she invites me to sit with her.
—Nomad, where were you yesterday? —Mónica asks me—. I was calling you, but you weren't picking up the phone.
—I was in Palm Road all day —I reply.
“On Palm Road?” Monica asks me, surprised.
—Yeah, didn't you hear about Nicki's accident?
—Of course, the party ended when the police arrived —he answers—. Luckily, it was nothing serious. Were you there?
—I helped her out of the water and the Bassets invited me to their house for helping her. Then I went with her and her brother Justin to a party at a Mia's house.
—And how did it go?
—It wasn't as nice as I expected —I tell him—, although the neighborhood is very nice.
—It's normal that you didn't have a good time —Mónica tells me—, it was a party on Palm Road.
"Nothing there is what it seems," I tell him with great conviction.
—Of course! —says Monica—. The Palm Road people are only interested in material things, they have no feelings. Besides, they don't care about the injustices on the island —adds Monica—. By the way, speaking of injustices, would you like to come to a demonstration?
"A demonstration?" I ask him, surprised.
—Yes, in Bunker Port —he answers—. My friends and I are going because a colleague lives there and the President of Nomad Coast wants to auction off the area. There are several construction companies interested in buying the land to demolish and develop it. The demonstration is being organized by a political group on the island and neighborhood associations of Bunker Port, but we are going separately. Are you in?
I don't know what to say to this. I remain silent for a short moment, but finally I say:
—I have never been to a demonstration.
—It doesn't matter, there's always a first time for everything —Mónica interrupts me, insisting that I go.
—Well, I'll go, but you should know that I don't have a revolutionary character —I add in response to his insistence.
—You don't have to be a revolutionary to fight against injustice —he answers me with a smile—. Go up to your room, you'll have to take something with you, we're going to camp there. I'll wait for you here, I've already got everything ready.
I'm not keen on the idea of going to a demonstration, but since I haven't been to Bunker Port yet, I agree. I finish my breakfast, quickly grab my backpack and decide to embark on a new adventure in Nomad Coast. At the door of the hostel I meet Monica again, we go out and get in her car to go to Bunker Port.
On the way to Bunker Port, I can see Nomad Coast from the window of Monica's car on a sunny morning that shines all over the island. The road is right next to the coast and the beach dazzles with its golden sand and the sparkle of the water, which is calm and crystal clear. In Bunker Port everything is very different from what I have seen so far in Nomad Coast. A beautiful, unspoiled beach stretches along the coast to a stone pier where, nearby, stands a giant Ferris wheel and a little further away a lighthouse next to a port. A few feet from the shore there are beach houses spread throughout the area; whoever lives there must be very lucky. Finally we reach the part of the pier where the demonstration is taking place. There is a crowd of people with banners and flags against the President, who are calling for his resignation and the end of the auction of Bunker Port.
Monica parks near the demonstration and as we dive into the tide of protesters, we meet her group of friends.
"I'm bringing someone else," Monica warns. "I finally got him to come."
—You sound familiar to me —says Fabio, who was a TASURF finalist.
—Of course you've heard of him! —Mónica intervenes again—. He was with us at the surf tournament party, or don't you remember?
—Fabio, wake up! —Jordan exclaims—. Don't you remember that he saved Justin Bassett's sister when the Palm Road snobs started messing things up?
—Oh, okay —Fabio recalls—. With everything that happened at the competition, my mind was elsewhere. Nice to meet you again, my name is Fabio.
Fabio shakes my hand. Jordan shakes mine too, and we start talking about surfing and how unfair the jury was with their final decision. Shortly after, Lena and Dafne appear, whom I also met at the Playa del Dorado party .
—They're already eating your head off with surfing —Lena tells me—. Guys, accept it once and for all, you suck at surfing.
"You're really bad at surfing," Fabio teases.
—No way, guys, you were great —Dafne intervenes.
—Well, it's true that it wasn't our day, next time it will be, we have a year to prepare —says Jordan.
"You can sign up for Surf Bay Academy," Lena suggests sardonically.
—Of course, I'm dying to share a desk with Noah Ross —Fabio tells him ironically—. When the Palm Road guys stop invading your father's surf academy, then I'll be happy to go.
This is followed by laughter. Shortly afterwards, the demonstrators begin to mobilise. Such is the fury of the political groups and neighbourhood associations that the police are on the lookout for their every move. Monica's group follows the tide of demonstrators with banners on which is written in giant letters:
PRESIDENT RESIGN, NO TO DEMOLITION
The activists are fervently demanding an immediate halt to the sale of Bunker Port. Suddenly, a fleet of armoured cars appears from a distance. People start booing them and a police cordon immediately blocks their way. Some of the protesters try to get past them, but the police thwart their attempts. Suited men wearing very dark black sunglasses get out of the massive black cars that have just arrived. They are followed by a tall man with piercing blue eyes and a serious face. His horse is chestnut, well-groomed and dressed in a suit. The whistles and boos increase and some protesters even throw objects at them.
"This is Blaine, the President of Nomad Coast," Monica tells me, amid the hustle and bustle of the demonstration.
—But if the construction companies are interested, why are they attacking the President? —I ask Monica.
—Because he is the architect of everything —he answers me—. He is a very powerful person, he is the one who draws the lines of the system and who holds the reins of the island; however, today we are here to try to prevent it.
Surrounded by his bodyguards, Blaine steps onto a platform guarded by police, taps the microphone twice, and begins to deliver a speech that is followed by thousands of boos and whistles.
—Neighbors of Bunker Port —says the leader of Nomad Coast— My goal has always been and will always be to improve the lives of all the inhabitants of the island. Although many of you are against the auction of this place, you are not aware of the improvement that the construction and reconstruction of Bunker Port would mean for our island and for all of you. I know that many of you do not want to leave behind what is part of your lives, I know that feeling, but it can continue to form, in a better way, with new opportunities and advances that will make us all progress together in Nomad Coast —this is followed by countless whistles—. We just have to shake hands and walk together, with nothing external to separate us…
The protesters continue to boo him and some try to attack the president of Nomad Coast, but are quickly repelled by his bodyguards. Since they cannot get too close, some start throwing all kinds of objects at him. The police intervene and many of the Nomad insurgents charge at the officers. The situation becomes violent. The president leaves escorted by his guards. They get into the cars, but the protesters surround them and it is impossible for them to escape. Police reinforcements arrive. The demonstration turns into a turbulent riot and Monica takes me by the arm to get out of the tumult.
“Guys, let’s get out of here!” Jordan shouts over the commotion. “Let’s get back to the open field.”
—The Nomadic Action people have messed up again —says Fabio—. They don't fight for the cause, they just do what they are told from above.
—The demonstration was supposed to be peaceful —Dafne says—, we won't achieve anything like this.
"We have to have hope," Monica intervenes, "we can still do something for this place, we just have to be smarter than them."
We return to the vacant lot, where the Bunker Port residents are camping. A boy approaches us. He is tall and has golden skin, wearing a brown sweatshirt with retro-style letters printed on it that say: Bunker Port. His face looks familiar and suddenly, I realize who he is. My mind goes blank. I realize that it is Alex, the boy who was arguing with Troy at Mia's party. I don't know how to react, he caught me watching them arguing, he will probably say something to me for having reprimanded them with my gaze that night.
—Alex, you missed it! —Fabio says—. The Nomad Action people screwed up again, the president had to leave with an escort and the police had to intervene.
"We're not going to achieve anything like this," says Alex. "These people think that by showing their dissent in a violent way they're going to do something good for Bunker Port."
—But at least they rebel —Lena intervenes.
—Nonsense! They are just political party puppets —Alex replies—, they say yes to everything, they don't care whether Bunker Port is auctioned or not, they just do what they are told.
—Well, let's try it our way, says Monica. Maybe we can get something.
"I find it very difficult," Alex answers, hopeless.
We remain in the vacant lot all day. The residents of Bunker Port, who are against the auction, not for political reasons but because they long to lose their own homes, begin to put up tents and light fires to keep out the cold of the night. Monica's group does the same. While we set up camp, Alex keeps questioning me with his eyes. He knows who I am, but he hasn't deigned to speak to me yet. Monica hasn't introduced us because the opportunity hasn't arisen, since Alex is constantly running around, so nervous that he can't sit still.
As night falls, we sit on some palm tree trunks lying around a candle and eat roasted marshmallows while we talk. Alex keeps looking at me, I know he wants to tell me something, but he can't find the opportunity to do so. Monica's friends talk about island gossip and topics I'm not aware of. Jordan takes out his acoustic guitar and starts playing a few chords followed by a chorus of voices. Dafne and Summer get up and start dancing to the music. At that moment, Alex also gets up and takes the opportunity to approach me, now that his friends are distracted by the music.
Alex sits next to me.
—Hey, you didn't see or hear anything that happened at Mia's party —she says suddenly, almost whispering—. Forget that I talked to Troy and don't say anything to them under any circumstances.
“Why?” I ask him suddenly. “Are you hiding something?”
Alex remains silent for a few moments.
—It's none of your business —he answers me.
—I understand that you don't tell me —I tell him—, but you shouldn't hide it from your friends.
"If I tell you, promise me you won't tell them," he says with some confidence.
-I promise you.
—Everything you heard that night has to do with the demolition of this place —Alex says.
—What do you mean? —I ask him.
—Look, I've been in Bunker Port all my life, I'm the grandson of the lighthouse keeper, I've been working at the lighthouse for a long time, and there's no way I want Blaine to buy this place —Alex tells me bluntly—. But no protests or camps will change anything, the only thing that can stop this from disappearing is money. That's why I turn a blind eye when the drug boats pass by the dock that have business with Troy, the guy you saw me arguing with at the party. I need the money to stop this place from disappearing, my life is here and I'm not going to lose it for anything in the world.
—But is there another way to get the money legally? —I ask him.
—There isn't one —he answers—, looking away is the quickest and most profitable way to get it.
“There has to be one,” I insist. “You’re risking too much for this place. If you get caught, you’ll lose everything.”
—I will do whatever it takes to ensure that the Bunker Port lighthouse continues to rise above the dock and continue to illuminate with its splendid light the course of all the ships that sail these seas.
—Why is the lighthouse so meaningful to you? —I ask.
—One of the first people to arrive on this island was my great-grandfather. He was the one who built the lighthouse and guarded it throughout his life. My grandfather honored his legacy by taking responsibility for the surveillance and maintenance of the lighthouse. When I was a child, he used to take me to the lighthouse at night, and from up high, we would watch the ships sail under the light of the stars. For my grandfather, the lighthouse was not just a point of orientation for the ships, it was much more than that. He used to tell me that the lighthouse represents your purpose in life, it is the guide that lights your way and keeps you focused on what really matters.
While looking into my eyes, Alex says:
—Keep your headlight on…
I remain in suspense by the words he just said to me.
—That's what my grandfather used to tell me. Keep your lighthouse on, Nomad, because I'm not turning it off.
I don't know what to say to him, his words have pierced me so deeply, as if when he uttered them, an arrow of astonishment pierced my heart. I come out of my daze and say to him:
—I will help you, we will find a way for you to save Bunker Port.
—Believe me, I've been trying to find a solution for months, but money doesn't fall from the sky and for now Troy is my only option —he tells me, looking downcast.
—Forget about Troy, he's not clean —I tell him—. We'll find a way…
Saying this, we look at each other in a knowing way and together we join the dance that has formed around the candle. We stay in Bunker Port all night and the next morning, when we turn on our phones, we see on social networks and in all the digital newspapers of Nomad Coast, that a date has already been set for the day and time of the Bunker Port auction.
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