Vacation Therapy (17 page)

"We're fine now."

Sergio stood at the foot of the bed. “What's wrong?"

Putting my hand over the receiver, I said, “Someone called the front desk about all the screaming coming out of our room."

"I'd like to see what they would've done with a snake that size in
their
room,” he huffed.

The voice on the phone was talking again. “Are you still there?"

I uncovered the phone. “I'm still here.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. When in doubt, tell the truth. “You see, there was a snake in our room, and we just threw it off the balcony. So, that's what all the screaming was about."

"Oh.” The voice said sounding confused, and then paused. “Uh, sir? Did you know that there are no pets allowed in the hotel?"

My eyes rolled. “This snake wasn't a pet,” I began, but Sergio grabbed the phone out of my hand.

"Listen,” he said. “We didn't come to this resort to be chased by snakes. We came for peace and quiet. We came to work on our tans, read cheap trashy novels in the sun, and relax! Get it! Not fight snakes!” Sergio took a deep breath and started up again. “So, if you guys ever cleaned these rooms, and maybe, just maybe, called an exterminator once in a while, we wouldn't be fighting for our lives against huge poisonous reptiles that crawl out from under our beds."

"But sir..."

"Don't ‘but sir’ me. I'm paying good money here. I want service, not snakes. Better yet, I just want to be left the hell alone.” And with that Sergio slammed the phone down, making the bells ring. He turned to face me, calm as could be. “So, now what?"

I smiled. “I think that about covers it."

"So how do you think that thing got in here?” Sergio walked over to the bathroom door. “Could it have crawled up the sewer pipe? I don't think I'll be able to take a shower again."

He disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the shower curtain rings ride along the metal bar. I walked over to the door that connected our room to the next one. Turning the knob, it didn't budge. The deadbolt was set. I looked at the bottom edge of the door. The gap underneath didn't appear big enough for the snake. No heating or air vents were visible in the room, only the wall air-conditioner.

"I don't think it could have fit in the drain,” he said, emerging from the bathroom. He turned around suddenly, and looked back at me. “You don't think it came up from the toilet? Didn't you see
Porky's Two
? A huge snake came up through the commode in that movie.” A look of horror crossed his face and he covered his groin. “I'm not going to be using that one again. No way, no how."

"Do you think it could have crawled up four stories?"

"It could,” he said, eyeing the bathroom suspiciously, “couldn't it?"

I shook my head. Just then an idea struck. “Wait a minute, I need to check something out.” I knelt down on the floor and climbed under my bed. Sergio's sandal lay on its side with a small damp spot nearby. Inhaling, an earthly scent hung in the musty air underneath the bed. It was a familiar smell, one I had just recently encountered.

I breathed in again as Sergio's face appeared under the dust ruff on the opposite side. “Whoa. Who peed under your bed?"

That's it. The image came into clear focus: The Nike bag.

We both pushed up from the floor and sat on the bed.

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I think it was the snake. At least, that was the same smell that came from the Nike bag we found.” Suddenly, the smell from Gary's closet came back to me. It was the same one from the gym bag. “And do you know what? It was the same smell that was in Gary's closet."

"What?” Sergio's brow wrinkled as he thought, then it slowly unfurrowed. “You mean Gary was keeping the snake in his room?"

"It sure seems that way to me."

"Let's go have a talk with him.” Sergio bounced up from my bed and headed to the door. He turned around to hurry me along. “Aren't you com...?” A second later, he slapped the side of his head. “We just knocked him out."

I nodded.

"We can't ask him anything right now, can we?"

I shook my head. “I think we should just go down to supper and act like nothing happened."

"What about the snake?” Sergio asked as he headed to the balcony. “Won't we need that as evidence?"

I stood up from the bed and walked over to the patio. Cautiously, we peered over the railing. My reacher lay on the tiled courtyard, but the snake was gone.

"Where is it?” I asked. “The fall should've killed it."

"Are you sure?” Sergio asked.

"It fell four stories and landed on terra cotta tile. It should be dead. I can't believe that fall only stunned it."

"What about your Speedo?” He pointed to the reacher. “Where is it?"

"It's gone too? Who would want that thing?"

"Maybe someone used it to pick up the dead snake?” Sergio curled his hands into fists and cringed. “I wouldn't wear that suit once you find it."

"It's not like I'm going to wear that thing again anyway, especially now, you know, after that snake touched it."

"I don't blame you. I don't think I'll be able to wear my sandals again.” He turned to me. “Could I use yours?” Sergio knelt down and looked under my bed, retrieving his sandal.

"I doubt the snake touched it."

"Oh, that's good,” he said and slipped it on his bare foot.

"It probably just peed on it when you scared it out from under my bed. So I'd worry about the urine instead of the..."

"Ahhh,” Sergio yelled and kicked at me. The sandal flew off his foot. I ducked to the side, and it flew over the balcony railing, down to join my reacher below.

"Why are you two so quiet?” Tom asked. “Having too much excitement on your vacation?"

Sergio's head rested on his hand as he picked at his food. “If you only knew,” he muttered under his breath.

My hard rolls and bland mashed potatoes were untouched.

"Maybe you should ask Gary to pull a few strings in the kitchen,” Tom offered. “I'm sure he could get you something you'd like."

"I'm hungry, but not that desperate.” I had been wondering when Gary was going to wake up and how bad his headache would to be. I felt bad about his head, but I was glad Sergio hit him. That was better than the other option.

John walked up to the table and turned to me. “Have you guys seen Gary?"

"No, not since this afternoon,” I lied.

"Mike's been calling his room, and no one's seen him since he left the Club Fred table. We're worried about him."

"Has anyone checked his room?” Sergio asked.

"No,” John said.

"Maybe he fell asleep or was in the shower when Mike called,” I suggested.

"He could have slipped in the shower,” Tom added.

Sergio and I turned and glared at him, and he said, “Sorry, it was just a thought."

"I hope not,” John scratched his head. “Maybe I should go check his room."

"Did you want some help?” I offered.

"You don't have to come. You're on vacation. Relax.” John turned and started to leave.

"Wait,” I called. “Now you've got us worried. We'd like to go with you. Okay?"

"Sure, I'd appreciate the company.” John waved for us to follow.

As we walked through the dining area and up to Gary's room, guilt played heavily upon me. Sergio kept giving me worried looks as Tom rattled on and on, about what I don't know.

John knocked on the door. “Gary? Are you in there?"

No answer.

John reached into his pocket and searched for his passkey.

Sergio plunged his hand into his pocket and almost pulled out Gary's key. I shook my head sharply and slapped his hand back into his pocket.

John finally found the key and inserted it into the lock. The tumblers clicked and the door swung in.

A faint scent greeted us as John reached inside, searching for the light switch. Nothing happened.

He continued walking into the room and headed for the light next to the bed. His foot kicked something. “There's something all over the floor,” he said, shuffling his feet across the tiles. “Whoa. It's really slippery over here by the bed.” His shadow reached over toward the nightstand.

Tom, Sergio, and I stepped into the room and waited by the bathroom door.

John found the switch and flipped on the lamp. As the room flooded with light, we gasped.

The room had been tossed. All of Gary's furniture and things had been thrown around. A spray of blood covered the headboard and wall above. A dark, crimson wave ran across the pillow, down the side, and pooled on the floor. John stood in the center of the pool.

Gary's body lay on the bed in the same position we had left him, but his bruised head was covered in clotted blood. A huge, gaping hole with fragments of white glistened in the light. Gary's sightless eyes stared at the ceiling.

Sergio and Tom backed away to the door. John and I headed to the bed.

John's eyes bore into mine, seeming to wait for a reaction. When I didn't do anything, he turned back, reached over, and felt for Gary's pulse.

I knew he wouldn't find one.

"He's dead,” John said, covered his mouth, and started to gag.

[Back to Table of Contents]

"But I only...” Sergio began.

I moved back and bumped into his side, stopping him from saying any more, just as John turned to look at him.

"I mean, I...” he looked at me and then turned back to John, “...I only really met him this morning. We had lunch with him. All of us.” He waved his hands in a circle in front of us to include Tom and me. Then his whole body began to shiver.

I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and hugged his quaking body next to mine. Sergio glanced at Gary one more time and quickly looked away. I gave him another gentle squeeze to try and calm him down.

"Did he act...strange?” John walked around the foot of the bed and faced us.

Tom shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.

"When didn't he?” Sergio asked.

Squeezing him a little harder, I began, “He seemed to be trying to get something from us, but I don't know what."

"I do,” Sergio whispered. His body trembled.

"Maybe he was feeling guilty about the snake being thrown on the jungle cruise and was worried that one of us would sue,” I interjected before John could ask him what he meant. “We had lunch with him and then he signed us up for a snorkeling trip, but that was the last time we saw him. Right, Sergio?"

He nodded his head slowly.

John stared at us, then turned to Tom, who asked him, “Shouldn't you call security...?” Tom motioned toward the bed.

"I will,” he said, heading back toward the phone, and then turned around. “I don't think I should use that phone. Can I use yours?"

"Sure,” Sergio responded, before I could answer.

I couldn't believe he just offered our phone in our room.

"What?” he asked.

John didn't wait for our answer. He pushed between Tom, Sergio, and me and headed down the hallway to our room. Tom followed close behind.

Sergio turned to me as we stepped through the door. “What's your problem? We have to cooperate or they'll start to suspect us,” he whispered.

"I know, but we have the machete in our room. Remember?” I made a clubbing motion. “I don't think it's a good idea to invite them in, do you?"

"I didn't think about that.” His body began shaking even more violently.

"Maybe he won't notice it,” I said, and hurried Sergio to our door before John used his passkey. “Are you going to be all right?” I asked, worried that Sergio was starting to go into shock.

"I'm fine. I'm just a little cold,” he said, and I released him. He hugged himself and rubbed his hands over his arms, trying to warm up.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my room key, hoping I could get Sergio to lie down before he passed out. But just as I inserted the key into the lock, a strange thought came to me. I turned to stare at John this time. “How did you know which room was ours?"

John hesitated for a moment. “You wrote it on the sheet when you asked me to charge the beach towel to your room.” He motioned toward the door, encouraging me to open it faster.

The key turned, the lock clicked, and I swung the door open.

John pushed past me and headed straight for our phone.

Before we could follow, footsteps echoed up the hall. Tom stepped back and watched as a guest's head bobbed up the stairs, “I should go make sure Gary's door is closed.” He motioned down the hall.

I didn't have a chance to respond before Tom hurried back to Gary's room.

"Let him go. I'm glad I'm not the one standing guard,” Sergio said. He looked down at his hands and started rubbing them together. “I touched a dead man.” His face blanched. “I should go wash my hands, right now.” He grabbed at his stomach and rushed into the bathroom.

Gary hadn't been dead when we carried him to his room. I wanted to call after Sergio, but I couldn't with John there. Standing in the threshold, I wasn't quite sure which way to go, or who to follow. Finally deciding, I entered our room.

John flipped his long hair away from his face as he looked up from the phone. His eyes went to the bathroom. “Is he gonna to be okay?” he asked me.

"I hope so.” I looked around our room. Where had Sergio put the machete? I couldn't remember if he picked it up from the hallway after we had dragged Gary into his room, or had he left it in there?

Before I could search any further, Sergio emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pant legs. His face still looked pale and his eyes hollow.

"Are you all right?” I asked.

Sergio held up a finger as John spoke into the phone. “Geoff? Can you come up to 417? We have a little problem up here.” There was a pause, and he started again, “We have another body.” Another pause and he nodded. “I'll do that right away.” He hung up the phone and walked over to me. “I have to stand guard by the...” He swallowed hard. “...by Gary. Can you take care of him?” He motioned to Sergio.

"Sure,” I said, and John left.

Sergio stood staring at the floor, body trembling uncontrollably.

I walked into the closet, pulled a light blanket off of the shelf, and wrapped it around his shoulders. Gently, I guided him to his bed and encouraged him to sit. “Maybe you should lie down."