Uninhabited island

Leila came to on the scorching sand. The ocean had just swallowed the plane, hundreds of people, and her dreams of New York. Instead of a prestigious translation agency, there was a deserted beach and salt water, corroding the scratches on her face.

"Where's the service?" a hoarse voice asked.

Hockey player Herman sat in the shallows, clutching his knee. He was easy to recognize—the same haughty face from all the banners.

"Calm down," said Manager Dan, emerging from the water. He was the only one keeping his cool, accustomed to dealing with the "star's" problems.

There were almost no survivors left. Julia was running along the shore with her smartphone:

— No power! Force, you promised the best vacation!

Her companion rudely pushed the girl away:

• Shut up, we almost died!

The cold calculation of a predator was visible in his eyes.

Agatha sat at a distance, the only one who looked calm. "The island doesn't care who we were," she said to Leila, who had just approached. "Here, we're just meat. Or people. It depends on what's inside."

Leila felt her old ambition awakening. If she didn't take control now, they'd be at each other's throats by sundown.

"Listen up everyone!" she shouted firmly. "We're on a desert island. There's no communication. We need to find water, start a fire, and set up camp."

Herman chuckled:

• And who are you to command?

But he immediately began searching for a crutch. And when an alarming crackling sound came from the jungle, he instinctively shielded the women with his body.

The island stared at the six strangers with thousands of invisible eyes. Their former lives—contracts, fame, money—remained at the bottom of the ocean. Now a different game was beginning: the stakes weren't careers, but the right to see the next sunrise.