The shadowy figure stood still, behind a large tree, the only sign in the murk
is the tiny light of a cigarette, being flicked away and stood on, as a low
chuckle came from the figure. Everything is going according to plan.

Across the shoreline, inland of the beach which washed down to the sea,
lights blinked out one by one, the inhabitants prepared and packed, some windows
showing a face, or a couple, staring out to sea, to their hope, to their
destination.

They would leave everything behind. And everything would be gone within a week.

The shadowy figure walked openly past the houses. Well, if nobody suspects,
why should it be a problem? One or two eyes are turned, but resume their
preparations just as quickly.

According to the plan.

Yes, according to the plan.