Crime

Late March, Panama City Beach.

The warm sunlight, over 25 degrees Celsius, felt incredibly pleasant as it bathed the skin. Lying half-reclined on the sand in sunglasses and only a pair of swim trunks, the breeze caressing his body brought an indescribable comfort—not to mention the endless array of swimsuits before and around him, a dizzying feast for the eyes. Perhaps this was the most blissful moment since his transmigration...

In truth, this was just Ryan's wishful thinking.

When he, Abigail, and a dozen other classmates first arrived at this so-called "Spring Break hotspot," the first thing they saw was the dense crowd of spring break students packed onto the beach. A small stretch of sand was crammed with thousands of people, a chaotic mix of arguments, laughter, and screams piling up like a noisy marketplace.

There were swimsuits and bikinis, sure, but the bodies weren't necessarily sizzling. The scene of a bunch of bikini-clad beauties and hunks from Baywatch (the famous 90s TV show) was nowhere to be found.

The silver lining was that today was indeed sunny, with the sea surface shimmering—a perfect day for sunbathing.

"Who said this was a spring break hotspot?"

"You'd have to ask MTV. After their live spring break broadcast in the 80s, this place became synonymous with spring break destinations."

"This is the only free public beach around. There really are too many people here this year."

"What do we do? Head back to the hotel? Or wait for the night scene? Does Harpoon Harry's have anything going on tonight?"

"Not tonight, but tomorrow is the local annual Beach Bash music festival, right at the bar. I heard some big-name guests are coming."

"So what about tonight?"

The Winter Music Conference was opening in a few days, and Ryan planned to hang out in Florida with his classmates for two days. Hearing the chatter around him, he turned to look at Abigail beside him. She wore flip-flops and had a large beach towel wrapped around her, completely covering her upper body.

Ryan glanced at the other single female classmates nearby—their outfits were pretty much the same.

Clearly, these girls had put careful thought into their first spring break after turning 18. It would be too boring to head back in disappointment, but the beach in front of them was so crowded there wasn't even room to lie down and sunbathe.

Ryan shifted his gaze further out. Several yachts were cruising on the sea, and someone leaped from the top deck of one, tumbling into the water with a splash.

"Maybe we could rent a yacht," Ryan suddenly suggested.

If they only rented it until tonight, even with the holiday markup, it should still be affordable.

Ryan figured everyone would go for it, but to his surprise, his classmates all looked hesitant. After hemming and hawing for a while, they finally admitted it was "over budget."

Hendersonville was just an ordinary public high school, and the students all lived nearby. High schoolers on spring break here didn't have much of a budget to work with.

"Alright," Ryan nodded. "In that case..."

He pulled a thick, bulging wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, offering to be generous for once!

Instantly, all the classmates around Ryan erupted in cheers. A few guys looked ready to call him "sugar daddy" on the spot, offering up their loyalty with maximum emotional hype. Others started scouting for boat rental companies along the coast, running errands for Ryan.

At this high school age, the students still had a simple view of money. Ryan managed to make a single dollar feel like ten. Once on board, several single female cheerleaders took turns asking Ryan to apply sunscreen, and he gladly obliged.

A little while later, Ryan appeared at the stern and sat down next to Abigail. She was standing by the railing, using a telescope mounted on the deck to observe the shore.

These telescopes were usually for scanning the distant ocean, but Abigail was using it to watch the beach.

Sensing Ryan's approach, Abigail jumped in surprise.

"We need to call the police right now!" Abigail said, her face full of panic. Then she dropped Ryan and hurried toward the cabin.

Ryan took the telescope and stood where Abigail had been. A shocking scene came into view.

Not far from the shore, on the beach, stood a group of Black college students—guys and girls, chatting and laughing. Everyone had smiles on their faces, looking no different from the other spring breakers around them. Right next to this group, barely a step away, three Black men were kneeling on the sand, surrounding a girl. The girl was completely unresponsive, letting them do whatever they wanted.

They weren't applying sunscreen. They were doing something far more vile—the kind of thing Indians are notorious for.

"Yeah, right on the beach. Send officers over now..." Abigail had come back to the deck and was already on the phone with the police.

If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Ryan would never have believed this could happen. In broad daylight, with at least dozens of people nearby, no one stopped it. Everyone just looked the other way, assuming the girl had "fallen asleep."

Abigail started shouting loudly, trying to get others' attention, but she was too far from the shore to be heard.

The police arrived at the beach within ten minutes, but there were so many people and no clear landmarks. By the time two officers trudged through the soft sand, sinking with each step, to the scene, all that was left was the woman abandoned on the beach...

Having watched the whole thing, Abigail's face was etched with terror. Spring break had once been linked in her mind to warm sunshine, sweet romance, laughter, and joy—all those beautiful words. But reality had given her a harsh lesson. For the rest of the afternoon, she couldn't muster any enthusiasm for fun, keeping her beach towel wrapped tight and never taking it off.

Ryan, on the other hand, had already moved past his initial shock. He'd used the telescope to scan other parts of the beach and found that this kind of open-air group activity wasn't limited to one spot. As for the three criminals, he'd memorized the face of one—a Black guy with dreadlocks.

That night, through conversations with others, Ryan learned that during this season, crime rates at popular spring break destinations—including indecent acts, illegal gun possession, and drug use—skyrocketed. Local radio was also broadcasting news about the City Council passing a "Spring Break Ordinance," with the city police department ramping up enforcement during the break.

It was only then that Abigail snapped out of her daze. Now she was even more reluctant to leave Ryan's side. When the group returned to shore, she insisted Ryan walk her back.

Unable to refuse her request, and out of gratitude for Abigail helping him study over the past half-month, Ryan nodded in agreement. Before leaving, he exchanged a look with a few male classmates, as if they had some kind of arrangement.

"The usual spot," one wiry guy whispered to Ryan.

Back at the hotel-style apartment, Abigail closed the door behind her.

"I'm so hungry. How about we go to Captain Anderson's Restaurant for some seafood rice later? We can grab a drink too," Abigail suggested.

Bad luck for Abigail tonight—Ryan already had plans.

"Ashley and the others are next door. You can go with them. I'm really tired today," Ryan said.

Abigail's brows furrowed. "Then go! Leave and don't come back."

A door slam followed.

"Jerk!" Abigail screamed, then grabbed her beach towel, treating it like Ryan as she tore at it. As for the black-and-white bikini she had on, she'd never even gotten a chance to show it to Ryan.

·

A few minutes later, Ryan had regrouped with the male classmates. All the girls had returned to their apartments by now.

"Next up, the real man's event—the Wet T-shirt Party!" The lanky guy who'd just spoken slung an arm around Ryan's neck. His name was Paul, the starting cornerback for the school football team—a position that usually went to the fastest runner. Paul fit the bill perfectly: narrow waist, long legs, a small head with an elongated face, eerily resembling a Doberman.

Ryan and his crew walked along the sidewalk, brushing past a black Mercedes-Benz MPV at an intersection.

Inside, a young man in a baseball cap stared out the window.

"Zimmerman, besides tomorrow's Beach Bash music festival, the day after we head to Daytona for the second show, then on to Miami to prep for Ultra Music Festival."

"Did you check the Mouse Helmet?" the young man asked.

His assistant nodded. "Want me to call a couple of local hotties to your room tonight?"

The young man shook his head. "Forget it."

Later, he felt like playing video games.

A note: The beach scene described in the text is adapted from a real case that occurred during spring break in 2015.